Things are looking up
Uplit on June 16, 2024.
Things are looking up. I don’t need to worry anymore. Things aren’t just looking up, they’re looking so far up that I got dizzy and fell over on my buttocks. Then I ended up in the emergency room with a sprained neck and whiplash. But things are still looking up, up, up.
Things are looking up. I don’t need to worry about gnomes nibbling my nostrils nor gnutes purloining my pancreases anymore. I don’t need to worry about the skeezle-wumpus in my over-stove cabinetry trying to claw my face off every time I forget it’s there and open those cabinets in search of potted meat, catfood, or potted cat meat. Things are looking up, up, up.
Things are looking up! I don’t need to clatter my floozies nor baste my turkeys anymore. They’re all basted—no explosive kitchen calamities happened this time. My kitchen, its refrigerator, its defrigerator, and even its ceiling and floor are still wondrously intact. This newfangled autobaster is sure paying for itself! (But the gnomes nestled in my sock drawer still aren’t.)
Things are looking up! I stood in my yard and looked up for hours until my neighbors gathered ’round to gawk and stare, thinking I must’ve gone barmy again. Then a bird pooped in my eye. But things are still looking up, up, up.
Things are looking up!! I don’t even need to twickle, twibble, tweet, twit, or twat anymore! CompuServe still exists—at least for those of us with authentic Macintosh Performas and a resilient browser cache. AOL might have bit the big one, and Twitter is an ex-parrot now, but CompuServe is still clanking and clattering along… somewhere out there, beyond the sea, while Yippies browse Slashdot in Firefox and yuppies surf the Lake Athabascan waves on the backs of painted turtles. (I am still considering retiring from the Internet and taking up turtle farming in Canada. Just watch me!)
Things are looking up!! I don’t need to mark my calendar anymore. My automarking calendar takes care of itself. I don’t need to wind my clocks anymore. My autowinding clocks take care of themselves. I don’t even need to open my doors! (No, they don’t open themselves; I ripped them off their hinges and made a fort out of them.) And bestly, I don’t even need to open cans of catfood for Nurdlebutt anymore. The giant stack of dead owls at the end of my driveway takes care of feeding that vicious little feline for me! Things are so, so looking up, up, up!
I can now rest, relaxed and unworried. I can rest assured. Everything takes care of itself around me.
Things are… looking up. I don’t need to worry about flushing my toilet anymore. I don’t even need to use toilet paper anymore. I don’t even need a bathroom anymore! I don’t even need my palatial, eleventy-floor abode anymore! I don’t even need anything anymore! Things are looking so up, up, up, and up, that I don’t even need to—