I am very excited, O Loyal Reader.
I’ve never been a much of a dancer, but you can bet in just a few short weeks I will jig the jiggiest jig ever jigged, so jiggy that Will Smith will record a new song called “I Thought I Was Gettin’ Jiggy Wit It, But It Appears John Pseudonymous Has Even Bigger Willie Style.”
You see, the reason I intend to throw my hands all up in the air (and possibly even wave them like I just don’t care) is because in a fortnight I will have completed The Semester From H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks. As I’ve explained previously, this is largely due to the two statistics classes I have been This!-Is!-Sparta!-ing.
I realize my work for this fine publication has been spotty, and will admit that as the term draws to a close, I’m very preoccupied with smearing Braveheart-blue warpaint on my face for this final fustercluck of papers, proposals, and stattacks (that’s a word I just created at this very moment that means “the act of attacking statistics problems, either with or without a Light Saber”). I’d feared I would not have sufficient time to complete a Twincident this week, but as luck would have it, I was struck this morning with a jolt of…well, I wouldn’t necessarily call it inspiration, but, it’s…well…
For those who don’t know, when you write a blog, an inevitable consequence is a special brand of spam. No, I’m not everyone’s least favorite canned meat–I’m talking about unsolicited electronic messages. I’m sure you’ve all received emails entreating you to send your personal info to the Prince of Narnia to help him move his fortune for half of it in return, or from mail-order brides desperate for love, or, of course, links to pictures of people in their birthday suits.
Blog spam is a little different, appearing as post comments. Often it is poorly translated from a foreign language or even computer-generated, offering product recommendations in creative syntax. For example, here’s a gem I received a while back:
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My spam filter catches pretty much all of these, so they rarely see the light of day, but every once in a while, one slips through.
Which brings me to the real reason I’m writing this post. This morning, WordPress alerted me that I had received the following comments on an old post of mine:
This may be the most fantastic thing I’ve read all day–and bear in mind it had some pretty stiff competition (my statistics textbooks are riveting). I just can’t help picturing someone who has chugged three Red Bulls intently shouting these disjointed strings of awesomeness at his/her/its computer screen.
And as I’ve pored over these masterpieces several times during the course of the day, I can’t help but wonder… Sure, at first glance they appear to be ridiculous, but do they actually mean something? I just can’t ignore the oddly serious, persistent repetition.
He set up a fine example to all of us. He set up a fine example to all of us.
Who? Who did? Jesus Christ? Gandhi? Chuck Norris?
He struck his attacker on the ear. He struck his attacker on the ear.
Edward Norton? Mike Tyson? Who? You can’t leave me hanging like that! And then you tell me:
You can never turn the clock back.
Is this a riddle? Should I call Robert Langdon to see if he can decipher this Da Vinci Code? Will the answer be shipped to me free with any purchase of Ugg boots?
After staring at this genius drivel for longer than I’d care to admit, I just had to cut myself off, as I still had so much warpaint to put on.
Call me superstitious, but just a week ago I received a chilling visit from The Ghost of Christmas Future, and I’m wondering if this is a prophet issuing gravely important instructions for survival. And that is why I am sharing this with you all, hoping against hope that you just might be able to decode these messages and share their true meaning with me, perhaps in the comments below. I’ve also decided to leave the comments in their original location so that you may communicate directly with the source if you so choose. I sincerely appreciate any help you can offer in resolving this dire emergency.
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If not, you can never turn the clock back.