That which I consider blog-worthy tends to fluctuate depending upon a variety of influences. A current example of that would be this particular article here. I didn’t set out to write it. It was just a very early hour, I couldn’t sleep and so far I haven’t really said anything. Consequently, this will never make it into the blog.
Even if I end up writing into this some awesome drivel that has substance and deep meaning, it’s too late. I’ve already lost interest. This will never be anything more than scrap paper, and that’s if by chance I accidently push the print button. Not too likely.
I am more prone to push delete. Unbeknownst to most, there exists in cyber space, a large, flexible, web-like basket that catches all deleted items. It makes no difference what it happens to be, a doctoral thesis, a Shakespearean sonnet or Wanda’s shopping list. Everything ends up in the same place.
I have never seen this delete cyber basket but I have heard stories. I am told it is constructed of a stretchy, gauze-like thread, whose surface, under a subatomic microscope would look like billions of tiny fish hooks, almost Velcro like in appearance, but more stickie than the surface of a Gummy Bear left abandoned in the driveway, in August.
That’s why, whenever Google is asked to retrieve anything from a deleted file, specially trained technicians, wearing eleven finger gloves, must reach in – a flashlight between their teeth, and carefully locate and extract said document using coated kitchen tongs. As you would imagine, this is a very time consuming and expensive process. Safety glasses and hearing protection are mandatory, along with a pre-signed waiver, releasing Google from any real or imagined retrieval mishaps.
In fact, the more I think about it, it’s best to just print the thing off and use the backside for scrap paper.
Feel free – push PRINT now.
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