081613 #worm And no sooner is the sweat stuck to my tattoo like a Nipponese fairy merchant, than it happens. A-gain. Table. Chairs. Bad, bad, bad rusty pipe music. Old bashful computers; they don't make them like that any more. God I think I miss those old, harmless computers, with their wan screens, their steady fans, and their utter, absolute, unthinkably sublime dumbness—most of all. Clickity-click, snippity-snap, whirrdley-pop. But we'll get back to those little boxes of inert imagsperation in a lil' while. Right now I've got customers.