The Blog

How big are chances, should they ask themselves, first off, the lonely sucker in the island, for so seductively streamlined snack of their bottled message to slip away from this horrendous horde of Order Elasmobranchii at ready to swallow it on sight?

Or could it fail to give the pretext to a cruising environmentalist of the Greens Genus to spit out an enraged swearword addressed to an anonymous fucker polluting the planet’s ocean with his Goddamn bottles?

~ ~ …and so forth… ~ ~… und so weiter… ~ ~

Scarce and far between are genuine co

Multi-billion-eyed attention of the global community got stuck to Facebook*, Twitter** or whatever else passes for OK in your neighborhood.

(*The organization is a

** This one too is ba

No one is up and sca

(And if at this here passage at least a single tear of warm empathy is not swished off an eye, let them, the eye owner, go and… hum… well… buy themselves something at Ali-Express or any other proper place for the likes of them – heartless rats.)

But mind you well that OBPS at times can bring you real consolation.

What if some day one of the waves—with a mild «plumpee!»—will unexpectedly bring and serve a bottle onto the desolate sand in the lonely beach, where from it had started its matchless voyage some heck of a long time ago?

And fighting back the tremor in your eager fingers, you’ll open it, O, islander—this vagabond envelope encrusted with uneven sea-salt fancy patterns—because who but you knows so too well the meaning of OBPS!

And—lo!—you have already spread out the sepia tinged sheets and got delighted with the inimitable perfection of your style of yore, and the depth of your own thought forgotten by you so long ago (what a pity a couple of pages are fucked up by a stray ship worm!)

Damn! You’re but a sworn philosopher and global thinker, Mr. Kilroy! I swear on my word of honor!.

Well, and this seems quite enough for the first missive, because I still need to find some rubber tree, and bang out a kinda cork to seal the bottle, so as not to miss sending it with the evening tide.

What makes me a definately ardent devotee of OBPS, it’s its being free—no postage fee whatsoever—look! look! see?! it’s taken! carried off! no stamp is needed, no nothing!

* * *

Bottle #2: ~ Hubba Hubba Ding-Ding, Dear Comrades! Congrats To All On This Jubilee, And – Hooray! ~

And, by the bye, you don’t get the uninhabited island as is for just a ‘thank you!’ neither for an honest-to-God look of your blue eyes. Ha! Seen there in heaps already.. Nope. The charm fails to raise the response counted on. The island mulishly awaits till you conquer it. Moreover since it’s equipped with a complete system of canalization behind each convenient bush in the state of the art readiness and so full of natural davenports. Aye, aye!.

Yet, all these heavenly niceties are available only after severe struggle and surviving at the two preliminary levels: The Ivory Tower and Unconquerable Autism. Yep, exactly in this order.

Well, on the whole, The Tower is not an over-complicated thing for egg-heads only, no. All you have to do is just to stay totally immersed in your post stamps collection or whatever is dear to the crux of your soul’s temperament and do not give a fuck about anything else. Simply equalize it to the level of external hum, boring and foreign consort to your i

Sure enough, they’re all too eager to derail you by every kind of “go buy bread please!” or else “Run! It’s an air raid!” Don’t let them distract you and hang on till “You Win!” crowning the level’s accomplishment.

Level Two, at first sight, looks a kinda simpler job. No need to give a fuck about any-fucking-thing whatsoever.

Here, the stratagem is locking yourself off thoroughly with all five senses sealed up as firm as needed for the successful passing the whole thing.

However, be warned of physical harassment – they will make you keep sitting on the toilet or else may clutch a cup with your fingers and pour its contents into you, “See? This how it’s done! Will you never learn nothing? You, dumb stupid ass?” Don’t talk back and be patient for the sake of “You Win!” after which you sure get to Uninhabited Island after all.

O that’s what you call the paradisiacal cream! Rhythmic swell of lolling surf of the Digital Ocean, light warm breeze from the electric blower under your feet, sexy moans of gulls through your headset and other fit attributes checked on as favorite widgets.

The functions under your command are simply i

Remembered now? Right! The Internet is 25 today! Ho-ho!

A quarter of century ago the scientifically minded public started to call each other to exchange text files over the wires. Not every cat did get it then, all of a sudden, whereto steered so quirky a telephonization. Still fewer could, at that pivotal moment, catch the jazz as being charged with much cooler stuff than even entry to the cosmic era when all the nation bust their ass to give a couple of citizens the chance of getting high and hanging up there, in the weightlessness, on their orbit before the invariable return to normal gravitation.

Quite different kettle of fish, in toto, with this here Internet where everyone may have an opportunity to individually (yet still en masse) get out of the state where you belong as a taxpayer (what? you haven’t even suspected? yes, sir, they’ll tax you and get you and fuck you without you ever noticing when and how, the state will, which you own quite a few sacred debts—if you Old Ones don’t settle the issue with a doctor on the draft medical commission, and where you’ll be used for other needs too, thanks to your citizenship).

And all of a sudden – yay! The independence breeze stirred up! The sweet word “freedom!” echoed from afar.

Yeah, o, yeah… NetScape, AltaVista – the legendary, glorious, long since forgotten names of genus-starters in the line of search engines… It’s them who paved my way to virtually visit the USA Congress Library full of the matter of fact information instead of filtered staple oatmeal broadcast by the TV news program Vremya or Mayak, the All-Union Radio Station, the bigger half of my life.

Thus flopped the mission of the “screaming” silencers in the range of short radio waves. Those crafty contraptions meant to kept the USSR citizens corralled off and hedged against the subversive influence of the outside world by the deafening crackle of the static, while the i