Just as I thought I was getting over my cold, it appears to be travelling south from my head to my chest. My throat is tickling today, and I'm feeling a bit miserable with it all. But perhaps it's not this bug that's infested my scone; perhaps it's just all the shit I read lately. Maybe I shouldn't read it, but it draws me in with its tractor beam, and I'm powerless to resist. I'm referring to the comments on social media threads about the hacking of Ashley Madison. I might have to go on Ebay and see if I can find one of those old fashioned silk screen printers, and cut out some white cotton squares approximately 1' x 1', and have them all printed with a big, bright scarlet 'A'. Then I can sell them, so all the self-righteous tools out there can go and arrange for them to be pinned on the shirt fronts of all these people whose details have been exposed by the hackers. Big, bright As stuck to their bibs, telling tales of infidelity, a la Hester Prynne from 'The Scarlet Letter'. Now I've got the song 'Lipstick On Your Collar' stuck in my head, as in 'Lipstick on your collar/Told a tale on you-oooo...'. Although from now on it'll be hackers on the website, and everyone will know because you've got a big A stuck on your shirt front. I can probably retire on the proceeds, but then I could not live with the hypocrisy of knowing I had profiteered from something that is seriously pissing me off! No, it's not the cheating spouses, it's the outrageous breach of other peoples' privacy committed by the hackers, and the self-righteous attitudes of everyone commenting.
Why is a perfectly legal activity, ie adult consensual sex, suddenly the concern of every carbon-based life-form sitting at a keyboard? No, affairs are not ideal; but unless you're the aggrieved partner, it's nobody's fucking business! As I've mentioned before, what if a wronged partner self-harms knowing their humiliation has been made so public? Also, who knows what's going on in a marriage that would make a person join a site?
I really think social media has just become a larger scale version of a bunch of pinafore-clad women, their hair tightly wound in curlers, yacking over the back fence about what they had said to so-and-so about such-and-such who was doing this-and-that with what's-his-face.
Seriously, I have read comments decrying the fact paramedics have been found using the site, and they should be setting an example. Paramedics like sex? Who'd-a thunk it? Not only that, it would seem some public servants and politicians enjoy sex, too! Oh, my giddy aunt! Listen, people, don't worry about what these people are doing, and just follow your own moral compass, okay?
When Mr Bingells and I first moved into our house, a previous dim-bulb occupant had put a whole heap of stones in the garden beds, ostensibly acquired from a nearby quarry. It was a bitch getting all the rocks out, and in putting the rocks there the previous occupant also brought in some onion grass, too. I've gotten the rocks out, but appear to be fighting a losing battle with the onion grass. No matter. My point is, I might have to hide the rocks I've removed from my garden lest some puritanical uptight twat who needs a good solid crap finds them, and takes them as ammunition for a public stoning of one of the alleged cheaters.
As I've mentioned in a previous post, I don't really approve of cheating per se. But it's not my freaking business what someone else does. It's not affecting me. It's legal. Someone's possibly having a mind-blowing orgasm, and good luck to that person if that be the case.
It seems not only is the world getting smaller, so is everybody's capacity to use common sense.
Well, I shall be on my way. I have to collect Master 11 from school for a check up with his neurologist, who is in town.
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