The message went out across the blogsphere. Find out what Evil Glenn daydreams about. At first I was a little skeptical. After all, what does the Undead Lord of the Internet need to daydream about? Surely all of his fantasies are instantly fulfilled by his minions.
But on further reflection, I had to agree with the thought that after typing “Indeed” or “Heh” for the hundredth time of the day, his mind was bound to wander a little. The question then became, what way to find out what he was thinking?
After a few days of tinkering, and using parts from my old desktop computer, a microwave, my vacuum, a TV dinner, an old hand-crank phonograph, a roll of Reynolds wrap, a small black and white TV (I was going to use a color one, but then I remembered reading somewhere that we dream in black and white), a handful of paperclips, two coconuts, all of the odd numbered cards from a poker deck, and a bar of soap, I managed to construct a machine to read daydreams.
I call it the…
DAYDREAM READER™
Or D. Reader™ for short. (And let me tell you, I was starting to dread what I was going to see in Evil Glenn’s head.)
I plugged the machine in and turned it on. After fumbling around in the dark for a few minutes, I found the breaker box and flipped the switches back on. As I started back up the stairs, the lights went back out again. This happened about four more times before I realized two things.
One, the D. Reader™ was obviously meant for a 220 circuit instead of the 110 house current available.
And two, unless I unplug it before I hit the breakers, I was going to be going up and down the basement stairs all day.
With this realization, I grabbed the D. Reader™ and headed to my job, where I knew that I could find a good 220 connection. I snuck in the back, and set up.
I turned the main dial to Blogger and the secondary dial to Gets more hits than me. When I hit the start button, there was an instant response. Across the screen, two words were scrolling by, over and over:
Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women Naked Women...
“Wow” I said. Then I looked down at the Identity window at the bottom. “Oh great,” I thought, “it’s just Harvey. I should have guessed.”
I quickly made an adjustment to the secondary dial and set it to More well regarded than Harvey
The display lit up again, this time with:
Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen Naked Firemen...
“Huh?” I checked the Identity window. Just as I suspected, Susie.
This time I was taking no chances. I grabbed a Sharpie™ and wrote on the secondary dial Dark Lord of the Blogsphere
At first, when I hit the start button, nothing appeared. But then, in tiny words, so small that I had to use a magnifying glass to read them, I saw the words:
I wish I had morals…
Well, I guess when you’ve got everything else, you daydream about the one thing that you can never have. And for an undead lawyer ruling the blogsphere with an iron fist, the least attainable thing of all has to be "morals."
Words to live by.
(Of course this could be all made up. It is a filthy lie after all!)
"unless I unplug it before I hit the breakers, I was going to be going up and down the basement stairs all day."
LOL!
Sounds like something *I'd* do :-)
Posted by: Harvey at October 8, 2004 09:43 PM