"Waterloo. Couldn't escape if I wanted to."- Confucius
Hubris, it would seem, is the downfall of us all. Whether it is a slow and steady walk up to the top of Mount Giantegohead, or a quick trip on the ski lift, sooner or later we will all come crashing down.
It can happen in small ways. The other day, I got the hiccoughs. Not too unusual. I tried to cure them with my own patented method, and it seemed to work. Remarking "See, hiccoughs are really very easy to cure", I was later cursèd with another two bouts of funny squeaky noises.
That was manageable. This plight, however, is not.
Latvians, wherefore have thou forsaken me?
Was my humble Google Translate offering not enough? Did it even turn you against me?
Whatever it was, I am truly sorry.
For those of you who can't read my stats page (and that should, theoretically, be everyone but me. If you can read it, aren't there more important things to hack? Presumably someone is constantly hacking the Daily Mail website, or else there wouldn't be the continuous stream of semi-digested bile and half truths that passes for journalism there), Having gone from a peak of 45 Latvians visiting this esteemed website, a large number of them in one week, I have somehow managed to fall to 44 Latvians having visited it. Someone hated it so much, they travelled back in time to prevent themselves ever reading it in the first place. But, hey. I got arrogant. Almost 50 people from one country read my stuff, so I naturally assumed I was now some kind of celebrity god figure. It seemed like a logical conclusion. And then they abandoned me...
Touché, Latvia.
No comments:
Post a Comment