Putting the Unlucky into Thirteen

Not very superstitious and yet, submitted for your consideration on this Friday the Thirteenth: At some point Wednesday (the 11th) afternoon, Pacific time, the good folks of Google, whose world wide web of intrigue and dominance includes the people who run 'blogger' the platform of this mass deception, spit the bit, seemingly.

What possibly happened (my speculation is as good as anybody's since Google is as close-mouthed after a meltdown as the Chernobyl Chamber of Commerce) is their host servers were taken off line for scheduled maintenance and, in this case, that was followed by unscheduled calamities in the process of trying to get back on.

Google got around to sharing its travails with its millions of perspiring and expiring artists and artistes about forty hours after the trouble started. It's kind of hard to send a note to everyone who uses your service since we all are on different schedules and use the tools in different ways. I suspect many of its customers won't ever realize they were/are off-line, while others, judging from some of the comments to the status board were hyperventilating.

One note I found amusing was a demand, more or less, "Fix this colorful expletive deleted adjectival descriptor now! My readers insist on my writings being delivered every day!" I'm thrilled to know there are people whose lives are actually more empty than mine--just wish I knew where they were so I could stand closer to them.

Anyway, at some point this afternoon (Eastern Daylight Time) all of blogger incrementally returned on little cat's feet. If you'd wondered 'how can I miss him when he never goes away?' Bad news, sweet cheeks. You blew your chance. See you in the next life-wake me up for meals.
-bill kenny