The Internet Has
Fleas, Fleas, Fleas
by Ramrod Hurley 

If your e-mail last week was slower in arriving than Delta Burke squeezing through the eye of a needle, you may have read the reason why. Unless you get your news from the Internet, in which case you’re probably still waiting for the page to load. But then, how in the hell are you reading the commune? Looks like I’ve caught you in your little ruse.

But that still doesn’t explain the Internet slow down. The papers (or news monitors) like to confuse the big fat lazy audience (yourselves) with talk of “viruses” and “Internet worms” and all of that nonsense, but those of you who have any experience with the Internet know two things: Always spell the Internet with a capital “I,” and always seek alternative sources of news in this corporate-dominated world.

It pays to get a second opinion. In this case, the talk of computer worms and vicious Internet programs is merely to confound you while they find a way to exterminate the real nuisance: Phone line fleas.

That’s right, fleas. Why do fleas live on dogs’ asses? It’s not for the premiere location, let me tell you. Everyone knows fleas seek thick, luscious hair to live in; like my own. But washing your hair even once a week (when it’s possible, we don’t all have a lot of free time) can keep your hair free of fleas. And there must be more people out there doing this than me, since dogs have become flea havens rather than human heads. But even dogs get baths, which leaves the life of a flea a lot like the life of a hobo—as one cartoon from my youth excellently depicted.

The solution? If you’re a flea and seeking relatively safe, unwashed hairy places your options are extremely limited, with France being so far across the ocean. But fortunately, the United States is refurbishing its phone lines with a brand new product called fiber optics. That’s right—fiber optics. As in hairy phone lines. A flea’s dream.

Scientists who study the behavior of fleas, and surely there must be some kind of creature like that out there, would quickly realize fleas have been taking to the phone lines in the past four years as they’ve become flea-friendly places to reside. The dogs are happy about it, I’m sure—I see tails wagging; but what about us Internet-using humans? It’s left us with crowded fiber optic lines to contend with, and even the expanded bandwith capabilities can only handle so many fleas and baud-per-minute or whatever the nerds say.

My first encounter with fleas occupying the phone lines occurred back when I maintained my site, www.poopoftheday.com. I experienced countless hours of downtime and even my AOL ISP support couldn’t explain the problem. My website host tech support stayed on the phone with me for hours, even after several attempts to convince me he had other things to do. He tried to sell me on the idea of viruses, worms, being severely incompetent and not knowing what was going on, which was all just a lame attempt to get me off the phone. Then he admitted the line was occupied by fleas, explained the fiber optic thing, and said he was looking into finding a way to destroy them—then the phone cut off. Apparently the fleas had gotten into even the voice lines. I tried calling back, to no avail.

Is there any answer to this unanswered problem? No, I just said there wasn’t. I’m sure leading service providers are seeking Internet-safe flea-repellent cable lines, and they’re probably working with the Hartz people on it, but until then, we’re just going to have to deal with the slow-downs. Unless you want to start giving your phone lines baths, and I’m not about to do that.

Tom Cruise: Gay? No Way!
And what does Tom Cruise get for all his humiliation? Well, $10 million. But the guy will probably never pay on the bill, he’s a gay porn actor, for Christ’s sake. How much money is in gay porn? Don’t answer that as I never, ever want to know.

Ushering in a New commun Era
All of this depends, of course, on the length of Red Bagel’s absence. Any regular readers of this column know Bagel is a charitable lunatic who excels only at one thing, and that’s somehow making money from a nearly-bankrupt Internet publication.

A Mission of the Utmost Impertinence
Readers will remember the conspiracy of such great import I have told you nothing about it, and that at the last column it came to a head deserving of popping. This is where I go now, loyal readers, and I take with me beloved anachronism Sampson L. Hartwig as a human shield; that is to say, loyal companion.

I Am Gathering a Troupe for a Journey
As you may know, I have tried gathering a group before through classified ads, hoping to attract mercenaries and those with a death wish to follow me into the danger, with me firmly in the back; but no such luck. I will have to go this mission alone, and take some commune staffers with me.

Star Wars as You Know it No Longer Exists
The possibilities of this might confound you, as they easily confounded me, and occasionally still do when I approach the problem not expecting an ambush. I have a friend who is well-versed on time-travel and film history, and for the sake of this article let’s call him Steven Hawking.