In which I abuse an ancient form of poetry, AND PUBLICLY ADMIT THAT I'VE STARTED READING HOMESTUCK.

I.
Today has not been
Good for my technology
All the shit is broke

II.
Rent wide is my rage
Cell, scanner—if I hit them
maybe then they'll work

III.
Plug & play my ass
How do I upload lolcats?
Phone full of kittens

IV.
Tech support asks me:
Are you sure it is plugged in?
Even I check that

V.
Not just my PC
finds this USB shitty
Win7 also

VI.
Third scanner seems dead
And printer not on network
Can't ink with tablet

VII.
Like torn rose petals
Fall pieces of scrap paper
Rent in useless fury

VIII.
On hold yet again
Fuck this shit; I give up now
Read Homestuck instead

IX.
Am finally at
where the trolling gets real, y0
Karkat is so cute

X.
Would slash Dave Strider
With the dorky Taurus troll
BUT DAMN SCANNER BROKE

Epilogue:
Also Tumblr sucks
Can not center epic poem
Y U NO ALIGN

Epi-epilogue:  I finally stumbled onto the website of someone who is one of those Homestuck fans I got warned about.  ("Don't talk about Homestuck on the internet!  It's like yelling HASTUR HASTUR HASTUR in a crowded theater!!")  One of those window-licking obsessives who send people screaming away from the whole...  web...  sequential...  comic?  ...Endeavor-thing.  Whatever it is.  I have no idea what it is; I just read the stuff.

And...  Oh, honey darling cutie-pie.  It is SO ADORABLE that you think you get to tell me how I must enjoy something I enjoy.  That you think you get to dictate the rules by which I consume this rad-cool entertainment.

It makes me want to...  dance.  I will drag you kicking and screaming into my Whiskey Tango Foxtrot.  For someone who has apparently based their entire identity, personality, and sexuality on grey-skinned, fanged, orange-horned trolls who are also internet trolls--no no no, I'm not putting you down; I love them too--you are...  way too easy to troll.

See, my poor naïve anti-Homestuck-poseur fanatic; my dear little self-assigned Homestuck Proper Enjoyment Militia Captain...  I could count the fucks I give on an amputated limb stub and still have room left for at least one more fuck.

Your twee wagon-circling stirs the darkest, deepest, most horrible depths of the things I do for fun, and I'm not talking about shit like live-tweeting mockery of Fox and Friends.

You make me want to create a dozen sock puppets.  I will post nothing but desaturated nudes with one, and I WILL COSPLAY WITH THE WRONG HORNS.  Then the White Knight sock-puppet will storm in to denounce any cosplayer who uses Black Opal lipstick as being a racist cultural appropriator.  The other sock puppet will suggest Hot Topic makeup as an alternative; three other sock puppets will fly into a foaming rage about SELLING OUT.  Another sock puppet will agree with the Fake White Knight--white cosplayers using IMAN or Black|UP products is a horrible racist travesty, BUT IT IS OKAY BECAUSE ACCURATE COSPLAY MATTERS MORE.  Then two usernames will pop up and one will say that they just skip the non-troll pesterlogs, and the other will say that they don't read any of that pesterlog bullshit ever.  It will be an incandescent fiery infinity of sharp idiot-poking sticks and flame wars that will burn for all eternity.  I will quote Homestuck lines AND GET THEM WRONG.

One does not simply walk in to Mordor stroll out of trolling.  I just have better things to do with my time, like work, script a webcomic, and pet kitties.  Those are the only things keeping me from retrieving the pointy stick, blowing the dust off it, and goin' mad nutz.

Some people's children...  jeez.