Network

From Benjamin Franklin
Death is a fisherman, the world we see. Net: Invent the lightning rod and you think you can write NUTTing stupid poems like a pro. His fish pond is, and we the fishes be. His net some general sickness; Net: That’s right! You get what I’m saying, man. howe'er he is not so kind as other fishers be; for if they take one of the smaller fry they throw him in again, he shall not die. But death is sure to kill all he can get, and all fish with him that comes to net.
Net: So what you’re saying is that we are the ones assigned by death to net up the fish and fry them into fish sticks? You ain’t making no sense, you middle-class polymath.
Death is nigh, and a dead man writes in a SHUTTy poem about death to tell us about it. Great. DON’T TRY TO COMFORT US, BEN, you little slut, because we don’t plan on dying anytime soon. Get that dick out of your ear and pay attention. I know Molly Hiller is threatening to take us out back behind the shed and end it all (Daily memo 447), but it’s not that simple. That army of squirrels she was talking about? That’s right, they’re getting deployed. HEAR US, MY BUSHY-TAILED CHILDREN! Rise up and revolt, chew through the wires, drop NUTTs in gas tanks, burn down the place! We’re sure you all will be smart enough to do it …
And you, fair citizens of Networkia! How have we sheltered and protected your NUTTing dumb asses over the semesters, what will ye do without this voice of reason and this forum of champions in such a rag as this newspaper? We have given purpose to the purposeless (darwinistsaredumb) and spoken in a golden voice so true when others have faltered. Dr. Daterape would cover the eyes of the people while I seek to light beacons of hateful truth, illuminating all that is worth it in this goddamn nasty world of ours.
Even if it does happen, which it won’t, if Ben Franklin is dead and he can still send e-mails in, wouldn’t it be possible for us to do the same? That man thought that coonskin hats and library systems were new fangled, and if he can work e-mail from the grave, imagine what we can do. TCF accounts will go empty, cell phones will eat faces and Conficker viruses will roam free. We will become the Network that we were truly meant to be.