Fast women: can't avoid 'em.
In spite of the leaps and bounds made in the speed of computers and of the internet I hardly met one woman in the workplace who didn't complain that her computer was slow, and that the internet was unreliable at best, and unreliable and slow the rest of the time. A curious phenomenon leads us to look for a cause.
I have been trying for the last two decades, unsuccessfully.
I have just found that part of investigation is writing in plain language, because the bringing of facts together means that no-one's credulity is being tested when bizarre conclusions are reached.
Such as when the facts suggest our grandmother was duplicitous with us.
Accusing someone of being duplicitous is a very different kettle of fish from accusing them of lying. But when my grandmother was being accused of being a liar, this was simply denied.
Duplicity is a symptom of a conspirator. The fact just presented suggests the multiplication of conspirators by the addition of two.
If a woman is in a conspiracy, her husband is part of it: a marriage is a conspiracy.
Kicking up of dust seems to be the game, and we don't intend to join in. Thus I must consider the possibility that the world is in a conspiracy against me.
A man is a conspiracy of one, unless he takes to publishing every word that enters his head.
At least in this day with adequate computers and annoyingly temperamental but fast internet, I needn't bribe someone in order to publish every thought that enters my head.
"Don't do it again."
It's obvious that telling a boy that computers are slow is to provide him an opportunity to contradict that assertion and talk about technological progress. Publishing every word that enters my head is something I gave a try, but found I was omitting the avoidance of contradictions. And then we need to work out when enough is enough, admit that while Englishmen divided themselves with the word gay, that word doesn't carry the implication that we are happy in our ignorance, and for the most part, when we're left alone, that is just what we are.
Version control is a bitch. My two dogs gave me the idea that it is better to follow the instructions at work, and sit in the sun with them at home.
But the thought came to me that I found the true beginning, so that unless I take to adding to a great heap of emotionally charged sparks, the obvious thing to do just makes me say, fuck!