To blog or not to blog, that is the question; Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous relatives, Or to take arms against a sea of BMs, And by opposing, enlighten them. To blog, to type; No more; and by a blog to say we end The heart-ache and the carpal tunnel That flesh is heir to — 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To type, to blog; To blog, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub, For in that sleep of death what blogs may come, When we have shuffled off this information superhighway, Must give us pause. There's the respect That makes calamity of so long life, For who would bear the barbs and scorns of blogging, Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised entertainment, the internet's delay, The insolence of , and the spurns That patient merit of th'unworthy takes, When he himself might his keyboard a bare bodkin make? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary mouse, But that the dread of something after the blog, The undiscovered web from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, And thus the native hue of the p.c.'s resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great wit and humor With this regard their currents turn awry, And lose the name of the Pea
BACK AWAY FROM THE CRACK,BACK AWAY FROM THE CRACK!!!!! Can't be a BM none of us ever finished reading that Mac da Beth guy and it wasn't in Cliff Notes.
How about if we have a major sporting event without Referees, Umpires, Judges or Stewards? I Love that a 65 to one shot did ...
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We think we saw these photos before...are we afflicted with "deja vu"???
ODE TO THE PEA
To blog or not to blog, that is the question;
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous relatives,
Or to take arms against a sea of BMs,
And by opposing, enlighten them. To blog, to type;
No more; and by a blog to say we end
The heart-ache and the carpal tunnel
That flesh is heir to — 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To type, to blog;
To blog, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death what blogs may come,
When we have shuffled off this information superhighway,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life,
For who would bear the barbs and scorns of blogging,
Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised entertainment, the internet's delay,
The insolence of , and the spurns
That patient merit of th'unworthy takes,
When he himself might his keyboard
a bare bodkin make? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary mouse,
But that the dread of something after the blog,
The undiscovered web from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of the p.c.'s resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great wit and humor
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of the Pea
BACK AWAY FROM THE CRACK,BACK AWAY FROM THE CRACK!!!!! Can't be a BM none of us ever finished reading that Mac da Beth guy and it wasn't in Cliff Notes.
What the!@#$%^&*()!!@#$%^&??????
"Poppy, get your own material."
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