Prometheus Steals Comments from the Gods
For the purposes of this post – and my ego – I am Prometheus.
And I have put myself at great peril, to steal for you – FROM ZEUS HIMSELF! – the gift of COMMENTS! Never before encountered anywhere throughout the wide expanse of the world of web, these “comments” will allow all mortals visiting The Sporadical the freedom to let their opinions known, instigate and extend discussions, make weirder the already strange, point out grammatical errors, play the game Who Has the Biggest Conceptual Penis?, naively and emotionally defend commonly held beliefs under the hypnotic power of a largely self-imposed peer pressure, warm themselves at night and better prepare food that isn’t Tastykakes.
You know nothing of these things now, but surely from this great addition to humanity will evolve complex systems of science, philosophy, politics, and art which will propel the human race to almost limitless advancements never before dreamt of…for there were not even dreams before this, the gift of comments.
I had hoped to wait until the comment system was developed enough to allow proper registration of participants in order to better facilitate a reliable community, provide for greater flexibility in adding future user interactivity, and further protect against SPAM. However, I grew tired, bored, and itchy waiting for Dexterdouglakis, the obsessive-compulsive God of Computer Science, to work out all of his many paranoid database issues.
This was not undertaken as an emotional or philosophical reaction to recently being suckerpunched in the face by bored teenagers. However, as an emotional AND philosophical reaction to recently being suckerpunched in the face by bored teenagers, I have decided to add the mediocre ornament of POLLS to The Sporadical.
Check it out…over there…in the sidebar…
Come on…you’re…not even looking…
It’s got a yellowish background.
CLICK SOMETHING GODS DAMN IT!
This feature, an already antiquated and pointless exercise, will very quickly be severely abused and abstracted by myself to the point that not even a humorous, ironic, or juvenile connection can be made between the topic polled and any of its available choices. Enjoy, but remember that there is in fact a right answer to all of these polls and the GODS are watching.
The price I pay for stealing you these gifts? I am to be chained to a rock whereupon my ever-regenerating liver is to be eaten nightly – and sometimes in the late afternoon if Tastykakes are not to be found – by a giant ravenous raven. The dinner guest was originally slated to be an eagle, but I fought hard for the raven because they are darker…and cooler…and therefore, most importantly, makes me much more attractive to goth chicks. Additionally, the species forms an overly simplistic, sophomoric and unnecessary alliteration with the word ravenous. I’m gonna call him Squiggles – or NO! Wriggles the Ravenous Raven! We’re gonna be best buds.
Oh…and Zeus can go fuck himself. I never liked my liver anyway.
I’m Thomas K…and I’m not.