Thursday, June 5, 2014

Blug Pado


   As we stand on the threshold of Death By Polyviri — with cryptoshenanigans poised to flog all functionality from our SSL, Putin ready to foist an unpalatable alphabet on half the world’s population, and the UKIP-primed frothing at the skin pores to starve the NHS of staff and flood every mind with reborn niggardliness — it’s worth remembering that way back on the cusp of this bold, new millennium, thousands of people fled their homes and sought refuge in the mountains out of fear that some crazy BUG was about to initiate worldwide social and economic meltdown.  And those people were wrong.

    We live in times of low level panic.  It’s palpable, darlings. 

    Right now, a pan-globe “shrieking Graham Norton” tipping point moment is avertable, containable —and virtual.  Most of us have yardsticks against which to measure the present viralising of ways and means previously germ retardant.  So it’s down to us to remain calm and poised while one or two folk let slip the vertebral attachment of certainty twixt imaginary chicken head and imaginary chicken body (directed only by reflex, and shedding feathers as its legs pound hither and thither in search of outlet for cluck).

    Those Millennium Bug people who fled to the mountains did so only because they believed the world was doomed.

    What a shit, shit, shit, shit future of which to conceive — and be prepared to act upon!

    To those who would despoil, divide and demean, I say:

    Blug Pado!




VIRUS

1 a very small living thing that causes infectious illnesses.
2 a set of instructions secretly put onto a computer or computer program, which can destroy information. When a computer that has a virus makes a connection with another computer, for example by email, the virus can make copies of itself and move to the other computer.
3 a program that sends a large number of annoying messages to many people's mobile phones in an uncontrolled way.
4 a negative or unhelpful idea, implanted in naive minds by chance or accident, that either spawns into a monster or dies a hapless death depending on the prevailing level of overall humankind wankiness.

Image c/o Prawny at www.morguefile.com

4 comments:

fairyhedgehog said...

But how will they sell newspapers (or news programs, or whatever) if they don't instil a bit of panic in us all?

Whirlochre said...

To be honest, I think that's what pop stars are for.

You can't move these days for talk of some trendy pop star whapping their baps out.

fairyhedgehog said...

I never thought I'd be grateful to pop stars but if they give us some relief from the FearPanicOhMyGod news stream then maybe I should be.

Or we can always hope one of the Royal Princes will do something monumentally tasteless. That's always good for filling column inches.

Whirlochre said...

Maybe Wills and harry should lick each other's faces. That would be monumentally tasteless on 2 levels.