>From deep in prehistory, way back when bangpaths ruled and the stain that is Facebook had yet to spill upon the land: (I'm not the author)
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous bullshit, or to take words against a sea of whinings, and by opposing, encourage them? To killfile, to post; No more; and by that post to say we end The lameness and the thousand natural followups That idiocy is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To killfile, to post; to post: perchance to flame: ay, there's the rub; For after that post what flames may come When we have killfiled this mortal foil, Must give us pause: there's the respect That makes calamity of so long thread; For who would bear the quips and scorns of posters, The harasser's wrong, the net.cops' contumely, The pangs of afterthoughts, the propogation delay, The incoherent sentence and the burns That impatient merit of the wordy take, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare screen? who would postings read, To grunt and snort under a weary thread, But that the dread of postings after killfiling, The undiscover'd comment'ry from whose bourn No quotings return, puzzles the will And makes us rather those kills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus curiousity does make readers of us all; And thus the monitor's hue and resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale font of thought, And enterprises of great pith and moment With this regard their discussions turn awry, And lose the game of interaction. -- Soft you now! The fair AltaVista! Nymph, on thy drives Be all my posts remember'd. -- John Hasler j...@sugarbit.com Elmwood, WI USA