@NoNamesLeftToUse The Writer/Artist/Reporter Himself here
In the News
Today I'm coming at you live from the corner of Steemit Avenue and Myblog Street.
In the past, this was a quiet neighborhood. Peaceful, friendly, serene.
People used to come and go on their ways to and from their blog without a care in the world. Kids used to play outside without having to worry about creepy 80's vans lurking about. Kittens had homes to go to and plenty of delicious kibble to snack on.
Things sure changed after the gangs moved in.
Now, there's a broken down shopping cart on the sidewalk to my left, actual cigarette butts on the ground instead of in the proper holding facility, bars on every window to give all inhabitants the impression they have been imprisoned, and strange looking free range crackheads who scream, "Nice post," at everyone they see, for no apparent reason.
Who's Going to Clean Up This Mess?
The government?
Listen. I'm just a fucking reporter. I don't see why I should have to come up with solutions. If I had to solve the world's problems, I wouldn't have time to dig deeper or press harder on the hard pressed issues. I'm here to iron this out, not ruffle the feathers.
Major Discovery
When one looks up to the sky in this neighborhood, their view is obscured.
What could possibly be in the way, you ask?
Posts, of course. Unnatural trees of sorts, sprouting straight from hell and extending all the way up to the heavens. Each one is attached to the next by some ungodly cable. The entire apparatus hums with the sound of electricity somehow passing through like sweet, freshly injected heroin coursing through the veins of one of these local maniacs.
What kind of sorcery is this, you ask?
They call it a blockchain. It's what powers the entire neighborhood. The lifeblood of any good blogosphere now and well off into the future.
Where does the power come from? God?
God? Are you on glue? It comes from The Power Grid, but do not be alarmed.
It's true, The Power Grid has been given a bad rap lately for sitting around, sucking on cheeseburgers all day, getting fat, then passing out on your couch while you're trying to watch the latest episode of whatever the fuck Steve Harvey is up to these days.
This doesn't mean we can't put them on a diet and find them a real job.
What could possibly be draining the source of this magic juice from above, you ask?
Well, the answer to that is quite simple.
Each time one of the walking dead says, "Nice post," that creates static on the blockchain. It interferes with the normal, everyday, back and forth banter bouncing around from post to post. The system wasn't designed to handle shit that doesn't make sense, but still must find a way to accommodate it by sending sparks here, there, and everywhere.
To Put Things Simply
Saying, "Nice post," is a waste of limited resources. If we burn up the last remaining spark just to state the obvious and tell someone what they already know, kittens will lose their habitat and eventually die. That's not fair.
If you want to end up living in a neighborhood with no trees, broken shopping carts and screaming free range crackheads all while surviving only on spam and macaroni casserole, you will continue to sit on your hands and do nothing while your world comes crashing down around you.
This reporter suggests you do the right thing and chase the menace away from your doorstep with a broom. We don't want to hurt them, we just want to teach them a lesson.
Always Remember
Kittens deserve your love. Save a tree. Don't eat spam.
To help facilitate the calming process, you may now look at this:
Thank You.
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