About Insecure Connections

About Insecure Connections
It's 4:32am, almost time for bed. (Remember I work on the night shift.)

You may notice that on many of my posts the warning 'insecure connection' appears in the URL window above. This is because the protocol for HTML has changed from 'http' to 'https' since I first learned the markup language in 2000. I type in my HTML manually here, which means that I would have to insert an 's' between every 'http' and corresponding colon for thousands and thousands of links in my account to get rid of the warning on every page. Now, I know I had this blog updated to the new code for months, and that I updated the code on my imaginary talk show blogs, but somehow all those links that I amended with the letter 's' have been changed back to http. So the warning is back. And the post in which I discussed this technical discovery earlier this year is missing. Amending computer code is backbreaking work that I resent having to do more than once - especially at the hands of assailants I shouldn't have had to even suffer once.

You can see how those jerks, who want everyone to love them with my songs and blogs, would benefit from such warnings appearing on my good clean posts. When will their stinking crimes ever end? I'm very angry right now. How am to sleep? God, does life ever suck for an honest man in this stinkhole of an internet. You assholes want to warn everyone about an added letter to your protocol? Why didn't you ever warn the public about all the stinking filthy fraud they were getting from your stars? I hate your rotten website. I hate this boring, untalented planet. This earth is GOD DAMN HELL for an artist who doesn't want to use his talent for evil. You've proven it to me. I hate Bill Gates. I can't wait for him to die. I just hope I don't die first, of abuse on his criminal playground of an internet, even though I'm decades younger than the prick.

2 1/2 hours later: If there are any Netflix viewers reading, I feel I must warn you that I have been drinking heavily, as well as smoking and languaging. I've been lamenting about all the horrors I've endured here on Bill Gates's internet, a technology I might have been much more successful without. And I've had a vision. This super rich nerd-tyrant - let's call him Phil - dies and finds himself sharing a blackboard with Dennis Richie. Richie is working on a strange mathematical expression, the twisted logic of which provokes Phil to say, "You'll never get anywhere with that." To this Richie abandons the pointless calculation and starts to chalk out a brilliant new idea, whose simplicity and elegance have an intoxicating effect. "Yes, that's more like it," says Phil, when, to his shock, the other picks up a brush and erases the new work, turns, and, pointing to the remaining mathematical failure on the blackboard, says dryly: "But that's you, Phil!"
  
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