No comment, part 2

Yo, how’bout you log in to this right here, hey?

A WordPress “happiness engineer” and I have had one exchange of views about the comments issue, and I am eagerly awaiting round two.

In the meantime, if you continue to have problems sounding off in this space, the WPHE’s advice is to:

• Clear your browser cache and cookies.

• Make sure Javascript is enabled.

As for me, I recommend trying a variety of browsers. I was able to comment on the DogS(h)ite using the Mac versions of Firefox and Chrome on a 2014 MacBook Pro running the Catalina OS.

Some of you have noticed that the “Leave a Reply” box looks a little different lately, and the WPHE acknowledged that WP “is constantly updating and improving its features (emphasis mine), so it’s possible that recent updates could have affected the appearance or functionality of the comment box.”

O, indeed. “In my Father’s CMS there are many updates,” as the Good Book tells us.

Now, I’m just spitballing here in the absence of evidence or expertise, but it’s possible that my insistence on using WP’s Classic Editor instead of its beshitted Block Editor — curse its name, yes — may play some role here.

Or it may be that the theme I use, the venerable Kubrick, has long since been “retired” and is no longer supported properly. Chances are it’s just gathering dust and being “updated and improved” by mice in the bottom drawer of an Army-surplus metal desk down in storage room B. There may be a Swingline stapler on the desk, right next to a box of matches.

Lotta strands in old Duder’s head, man. And they’re not all plugged into the proper sockets. More as I hear it. Meanwhile, keep those cards and letters coming, and don’t touch that dial.

No comment

Ow. Ow. Ow.

A quick housekeeping question for all y’all:

Anyone having trouble commenting on the site?

I realize this may be a tough one to answer if you’re having trouble commenting on the site. But a couple of readers have mentioned issues recently and I’ve noticed a subtle alteration of the CMS that may indicate that the WordPress peoples have moved some of the furniture around and the rest of us are barking our shins on it in the dark.

Anyway, comment if you can, email if you can’t. Let me know how you comment — right here at some individual post, via Facebook, by subscribing to posts, whatevs. I’ll take my troubles to the WordPress gods in prayer.

From hairballs to purrs

“We are adequately served. You may go now.”

O, Lord, sometimes a fella feels like he’s barefoot navigating a carpet spotted with hairballs in the dark.

Warner-Discovery bollixed its big switch from HBO Max to Max, forcing subscribers like Your Humble Narrator to dash hither and yon across the Internets, trying to figure out how we could enjoy “content” we were paying for but suddenly not receiving. Handy Household Hint to W-D execs: As error messages go, “Something went wrong” is just a wee bit vague.

E. Lawn Mulch stepped on his own dingus (yet again) with a rapid unscheduled disassembly of Ronald DeSadist’s pestilential campaign on Twatter Spaces. I expect various minions, varlets, and knaves (if any remain) were promptly laid off and escorted from the Twatter offices (for which rent is not being paid). Look for DeSadist to ban Twatter in Florida.

At Verizon, which is shedding customers, employees in “customer experience, loyalty, and technology positions” have been advised to prepare for “transition to the next stage of your career journey.” Your call is important to us. Or not.

Meanwhile, in the vast retail/services landscape, there is at least one happy customer. Miss Mia Sopaipilla got an A++ in her most recent visit to the vet and gives the chef’s kiss — muah! — to her bedcave.

Is there a Meow as well as a Yelp? I’m looking forward to a glowing review.

Having a blast, wish you weren’t here

Countdown to coffee. 10, 9, 8. …

Sort of a mixed message, isn’t it?

Some of us contemplate replacing our gas appliances and infernal-combustion vehicles with electrical gizmos, whizbangs, and comosellamas in order to help stave off (or at least slow down) global environmental catastrophe.

Meanwhile, in one go, a single wealthy narcissist can spray Mother Earth with a money shot of 15 million pounds of liquid methane-oxygen propellant, a jillion bits of shrapnel from an exploding 120-foot-long dick-missile, and uncounted gigatons of Texas sand, soil, and Christ only knows what … and then call it a learning experience.

I know what I’ve learned. My little electric kettle ain’t gonna git the cattle to Abilene, is what.

Smoke ’em if you got ’em

My drug of choice these days.

Ho hum. Just another morning in America.

Get up, make coffee and toast, watch E. Lawn Mulch blow something up and call it a success, start a new loaf of bread, tidy up the kitchen, police Miss Mia’s litter boxes, follow Herself to the Honda dealership to drop off the CR-V for its annual physical, write something.

It’s 4/20, but getting stoned is not on the agenda. E. Lawn may light ’em up on April 20, but not Your Humble Narrator. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt.

Sheeeyit, I got higher than Starship back in 1973, man.