The poll numbers are going up. They keep rising. So far, only one person has decided that determining the best lightbulb-fixer is a stupid endeavour - the other eight - okay, six - feel that there's something to be said for this.
But who are you people?
I just
don't understand it. I ought to ask Jules to help me rant, but as far as I can tell, she's busy growing Venus flytraps in her bathtub. (Noshe'sdefinitelynot.) And spilling cucumbers on her keyboard instead of bread. (And hummus. Definitely hummus.)
So here are the possibilities:
- The spammers are back and compulsively answering our poll. It's easy to imagine they might get bored of their Viagra-advertising campaigns after awhile.
- The non-conformist sheep tailed Saere in and are now launching air strikes while we're not looking.
- Lobotomized zombie folk click a link, end up on the Ughy Club front page, their brains implode because they can't figure out how to navigate the site, and they click the poll because it's the only thing that looks vaguely familiar. (And then they die before they can explain.)
- (And this is the best one.) The folk who meander this way are so much like ME that they want to participate in our research into optimum-lightbulb-fixing, but they're so SCARED of us that they don't SAY ANYTHING.
And this, comrades, is very very sad. We must take action. We must squander rhetorical devices such as anaphora because I've got JFK on the brain right now ... if you can read this:
SAY POTATO!p.s.
Why would you paint your wife like this, Henri Matisse?
