Alarming News: I like Morgan Freeberg. A lot.
Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler: We were following a trackback and thinking "hmmm... this is a bloody excellent post!", and then we realized that it was just part III of, well, three...Damn. I wish I'd written those.
Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler: ...I just remembered that I found a new blog a short while ago, House of Eratosthenes, that I really like. I like his common sense approach and his curiosity when it comes to why people believe what they believe rather than just what they believe.
Brutally Honest: Morgan Freeberg is an intriguing guy...[he] asks great questions and answers others with style, flair, reason and wit. On the blogroll he goes. Make him a part of your regular blogospheric reading. I certainly will.
Brutally Honest: Morgan Freeberg is brilliant.
Common Sense Junction: Misha @ Anti-Idiotarian never ceases to amaze me. He keeps finding other good blogs. I went over to A.I. this morning for my daily Misha fix and he had found this guy named Morgan Freeberg in Fair Oaks, California, that has a blog, House of Eratosthenes. Freeberg says its "The Blog That Nobody Reads" but it may now become the blog that everybody reads.
Jaded Haven: Good God, Morgan, you cover a topic from front to back with a screwy thoroughness I find mind boggling. I'm in awe of your thought proccesses, my friend, you're an exceptional talent. You start by throwing in the kitchen sink, tie in someone's syphilitic uncle, bend around a rip tide of brilliance and bring it all home in a neat, diamond dripping package of an exceptionally readable moment of damn fine wordsmithing. I love reading you.
Mein Blogovault: Make "the Blog that No One Reads" one of your daily reads.
Philmon: When Morgan meanders, stick with him - he's got a point and it'll be worth it in the end. He's not a hit-and-run snarky quip kind of guy. The pieces all fall into place like tumblers in a lock and bang! He's opened a cognative door for you.
Rightlinx: Morgan at House of Eratosthenes is one of the best writers out there. I read him nearly every day because he manages to provide an interesting perspective, even though I don't always agree.
Poetic Justice: Cletus! Ah gots a laiv one fer yew...
With what must surely rank highly among the raspiest mental-sighs possible, I pull out the file folder marked “technology working against us, giving us more work to do,” and prepare to file the following article therein:
ATTENTION ALL WELL-INTENTIONED ACQUAINTANCES, THE NEW AND THE ANCIENT, THE INTIMATE AND THE CASUAL: MORGAN KARLSSON FREEBERG IS NOT DEAD OR DYING. Not yet. He is nowhere near Bloomfield, California, the location of the last update from his “I work when I damn well want to” newfangled overpriced GPS emergency-signalling device. He has not been bitten by a venomous serpent. He has not been run off the road by an inebriated wine-country-touring hippie piloting some five-ton SUV. He is not lying in a ditch, bleeding out under the moonlight, with a severed artery. He hasn’t been dragged under the wheels of a semi truck and turned into hash. He hasn’t suffered a myocardial infarction and been reduced to a pile of aluminum-human-flesh roadkill in the middle of Highway 1.
Morgan K. Freeberg has not been in Bloomfield for a good thirty hours now; he is a good seventy or eighty miles past that point, with a belly full of red beer and white pork tenderloin. Which would be a reasonable deal if he paid twice for it what he did. Morgan K. Freeberg is in Calistoga, and his biggest worries on earth are that he needs to install a new bike tire (which has been acquired, and is sitting in an armchar in his hotel room), and about 185 miles into his bicycling-vacation, his ass & thighs hurt like a sonofabitch. But he’s buck-ass naked as the day he was born, sitting in a hot tub, with bubbles, remedying that. Drinking more beer. On the other hand, he’s alone…on the other hand, that’s getting fixed too, tomorrow night. So the celibate lifestyle is getting fixed, the super-sore ass is getting fixed…we have laundry facilities tomorrow afternoon too, so that’s also getting fixed. No venom from the wildlife, no injuries, no broken blood vessels. All’s good. Everything’s fine.
I have several hundred dollars sunk into this “GPS spot” device which doesn’t work. Yes, that is a problem. But I think I figured it out: If you put in alkaline batteries, as opposed to lithium, the device will do what it’s supposed to until the charge runs down to 90%, then it will just blink its lights at you. That would explain everything; it would explain why the reviews are so evenly divided between “It does exactly what I wanted!” and “I can’t believe I got taken on this piece of shit.” It isn’t the location, and it isn’t whether you have sweat-soaked bicyclists’ headbands packed on top of the transmitter; it’s the batteries.
Only thing is: I put the batteries in, that arrived with the device.
Whatever. I appreciate everybody’s concerns, but I am not in Bloomfield, I am in Calistoga. I’m sitting in a jacuzzi drinking beer, blogging. I’m just fine. Doing better than you.
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.