Analog – The Meta-Bug

I’m f’in’ sick of WordPress. Like so many tech things (yeah, I’m looking at you, MS Word), it once provided simple solutions to long-standing problems, then decided to justify its own existence by continually finding more “solutions” (an interesting word to use where a problem didn’t previously exist).

I have limited time. I want to write, I don’t want to spend time doing research on how to use ridiculously arcane writing and publishing tools only because some coder decided that in order to justify his inflated salary that he (playing the percentage game here) is going to complicate my life.

So fuck this, I’m sending out The Meta-bug by snail mail. Themetabug.com will remain alive to announce new issues, which (if I calculate correctly) should be about once every 7.83 months. Since nobody reads this, it shouldn’t be much of a worry, or a burden to me.

NB: I’m not writing this blog for you (vide supra). It’s an exercise for me, and the intended audience is my children (which should keep the material comfortably PG-insert current age of youngest child.

THEREFORE: If you want to receive the analog version of The Metabug, please send an email to themetabuginprint@gmail.com with your address and any compromising photos you may have of Walter Brennan.

Cost:

To my friends: Absolutely 100% free. Why would I make people I care about pay for something that has no value? Whodya think I am? A member of the EOB family?

To people I don’t know: Send me an SASE (if you know what that is) along with anything else you think will improve your karma level in the universe.

To Evil Orange Blob Worshippers: Absolutely 100% free. I have my reasons.

To people who say they are my friends in the hope of getting a free copy: Go to make love to your own behind. (Once said to me by an irate Italian whose English skills were less than he imagined.)

How to open a cat’s mouth

This is one from the archives, it never made it into a journal. I’m guessing I took this picture (in truth, someone else must have taken it, because those are my hands–I think) when I was still doing some veterinary journalism, and that it was for an article.

Writing used to be a great gig. I would write a number of articles per year. I’d do research, interviews, and then an editor would go over them with a fine tooth comb. Sources would be checked. Interviews would be transcribed. I would rewrite them to the editors’ specs, and then we’d go over the final product. For all of this work, I’d get paid enough to make it worth my while, and in my best year freelancing made up about a third of my income.

Then came the internet.