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Tribulations: Part Three

Today's comic is part three in a story that may have already ended, or one that may never end. It's something in the middle most likely, because we'll get bored with it eventually, but we're not bored with it yet. On Friday I talked about cybering, and as much as I know you dirty deviants want to continue reading about online erotica, I'm going to talk about something else instead.

Sandwiches. They're so fucking delicious. It's like you take all of the tastiest things invented by man and put them together into--

I'm not going to talk about sandwiches.

Our ever growing use of technology has created a host of new phenomenon that a generation as recent as the last one would never have even thought of, such as the "missend." Simply put, this is when you send a message to the wrong person. For example, I once accidentally typed "I think Abdul in Accounting is an asshole, and he's in Al-Qaeda too," and then I accidentally sent it to everybody at work. Actually, I mistyped the List address, so I had to accidentally send it again. Then, on another occasion, OJ emailed me to say "Man, my girlfriend is being a huge bitch today. What the fuck difference does it make if it's one-ply or two?" I accidentally forwarded the email to his girlfriend. As you can see, sending messages on your computer is fraught with peril.

So much of our communication nowadays is done via emails, txt messages, myspace, or instant messages. Who the hell knows who's on the other side? If you've ever sent a picture of tubgirl to your buddy, had him react in shock and terror, and then later discovered that it was in fact his mom who saw it, then you know what I'm talking about.

The oddest part is that a pair of friends can blather away for hours to one another online, but when they meet in person they just stare at each other uncomfortably, occasionally shifting their eyes to watch an ant drag half a cantaloupe across the floor. They clear their throats and lick their cracked lips, momentarily considering talking about the fact that they just watched a tiny insect drag a pound and a half of fruit. Finally one of them says "Uh, well, this was fun, I have to go home, but, uh..... I'll talk to you on AIM." Then the other friend exclaims "Yeah, AIM, totally!" with such joy you'd think he just got a blowjob from God.

You can exchange a whole lifetime of thoughts without ever hearing their voice. Oh, and two-ply feels way better on your ass, dude.

~Fuzzy

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