Endless Mike Jambox

Jambox Ringtones Have Arrived.
VICTORY!

We’re just fanatics
each of us on its course
wind no object.
Any objection at all muttled by the soft airstream
created by the fans and filtered air they breathe.

Simply fanatics,
each finds his niche and it just clicks.

We cannot jump high enough. What do we want?
If we knew, we could tell.

You. You who we breathe, who we scream
to as if there is anything more
than a simple human boy or girl standing between us.

Biology, children, is the first defender of denial.
And the cats are no more kittens than the kittens are. . .

The spinning wheel is a trove.

After three years with the appropriately effective "emailaccount.com" as my email address, they have disappeared! Try it! The web address simply does not exist anymore. Maybe, at some point, they will reappear. But for the time being, that being the last four or five days, the website has simply not existed.

It is as if the stocks have plummeted and the board has taken the money and run. It's as if a government has left its people dangerously ill prepared for catastrophe. It's as if the rich have sent the poor to die! It's as if a band member has quit! It's as if the tenents have just up and left, with three months rent due.

I wonder if the guys at emailccount new this was coming, and just didn't, couldn't tell everyone because the strain on the server would be just too great, when the six or so of us with an "emailaccount" address would stampede to the doors, years worth of back email in tow. And where would we go? These tired, huddled masses, crowding at the doors of varied domains, with nothing, absolutely nothing in tow?


"Now I've got new shoes..."

billyfrolic@yahoo.com I know, it sucks. I went with yahoo in the opaque hope that tomorrow, yes tomorrow, the lost island of "emailaccount.com" will appear across the distant horizon. On that tomorrow, I will be of the first of the sailors, the first of the map writers, to chart the mysterious beast. I will go to the ordained place and I will dig. I will dig until I find, upon typing my individual[(s)?] "screen name" the trove of messages, addresses, contacts, and records I now go without.

billyfrolic@yahoo.com

This cat is way cooler than anyone else involved in the production/causation of said events. Sheesh. Except for the kid, who apparently is spending way too much time hiding around daddies "secret crop." YOU PUT THE CAT WHERE AND THEN FORGOT ABOUT IT!?!?!?