The Matrix -Movie Review

No animals were harmed in the making of this letter

Ogr81 alit from the belfry as the sun set. Ignoring all else; the panda wrestling with the penguin over a pencil (nothing makes you want to go pee first thing in the morning then that), the incesant dripping of champagne from a recently over-turned bottle as a guilty chimpanzee runs and hides, the squawking from the lady next door....he headed straight for his information processing device. Grabbing a snoot full of muffin mix, he proceded to call his chimp companion pleasantly. Unbeknowest to the curious primate, oh....okay....this line doesn't really go anywhere....I just want to use the word unbeknowest. Approaching warily, Walden was met with a great splotch of muffin mix directly in the face.
Having been assaulted thus, it really burned the chimps ass. It dove at Ogr81 with fervent determination.
Expecting such an outcome, he ducked out of the way just in time, and Walden sailed past, into his cage. Well...to Walden it was a cage.
But it was also a source for energy. Every rope and ladder was
connected to a piston worm-drive turbine that reacted to the slightest tug; its' running wheel and merry-go-round (like everything) were connected, eventually, to an alternator of an old VW microbus, then an batteries, and inverter and deeper and deeper the strange machinizations of his madness weaved, until total madness was required to understand it all. Suffice it to say...
He threw the tomato into the sausage maker quickly, before the
custard set, and released the chipmunk.
Judging from the individual sounds of the caucophony; the enraged chimp, the amplified rice crispies, the toot-tooting of the steam release valve, the ringing of the McPerson strut as it hit against the Mobis strip, the whistling of something somewhere, he wasn't sure, but emenating near the bizarre kind of duck-call sound; everything was ready!
He pulled down on an over-sized leaver and waited for the resulting status signal.
Suddenly Pink Floyd began playing: I know a mouse and he hasn't got a house I don't know why I call him Gerald...
Something was wrong. He quickly rolled the sheet of zinc from the nickel nitrate and pondered over the quandry.........................................................

................................................................

...........................................................AH HAH! The hedge hog still had the fish!
He quickly rectified the situation and....

Honey...doo doo doo doo doo doo
Oh sugar...doo doo doo doo doo doo

Success! He lowered his safety glasses, put on his hard hat and kicked his information processing device. The pig squealed. He
re-kicked it, and all the drivers loaded successfully.
The poodle farted. One more step and he was on-line!

Clap on!

Ogr81 wrote,

Ah-HAH! I just figured this internet thing out!
It's all just a fancy software program that makes you believe you're
on-line, when in reality your actually just communicating with random software generated Pokemons! When you're (although now I know that you don't actually exist) typing away at on the irc... guess what bud, (although now I know that bud is but an avatar; {mental note; Avatar - good name for the baby}) you got sucked into believing there was really a person on the other end. The web: how aptly named hitherto (I just lucked out getting to use the word 'hitherto,' honest!)...indeed it is a web. A WEB OF DECEIT!
Oooo, good morning Mr. Www, good morning Mr. Hittip, if that's your real name! I got you figured out!
Oh, error 404, page not retrieved. You mean, "Give me time to
figure this one out," don't you Hal!
Oh, Java script error. What do you take me for! Why don't you
just say, "I don't feel like exerting the energy right now, settle for text!"
Oh, this page is secure for credit cards. You swarmy, loathesome, smug, bastards!
You almost got me on that one. I admit it. But lucky for me, they don't accept fresh figs as currency. So you could have screamed, "Come into my parlor!" until you were microhard and I still wouldn't cross through those gates!
........................
Okay. I'm assuming that what I'm writing is real, but if I'm
wrong............ahhhhh..................
And the newsgroups. PLEEEEEEEease. If the phrase, "Don't get me started!" wasn't already copyrighted by syndicate Transendal Vegetation, I'ld use it, by jiminy! (Mental note: Jiminy - good name for the baby)
I thought it aggrivating when I was kicked out of my first
newsgroup.....I was slightly more aggitated when kicked from my second newsgroup, despite all efforts of research into proper internet protocol.
At ten newsgroups, my self esteem was some-what be-rated.
But I watched as you didn't stop there. Oh no. Obviously your not Eddy the happy ship-board computer. No. You had to keep going, didn't you! Until you saw to it, that I was for some reason or another, kicked out of every friggin newsgroup on the friggin information friggin highway. HeY! Don't make me use the word friggen again!
That's it!
Stress level is WAY up.
Gotta stop before I get into the so-called 'gaming' aspect of the so-called 'net'.
Besides, the Cossack Petunia bulb bin is too low to help the
Bosnian bilge extracor, but I'm not about to give up a basket o' figs to refill it, by carbonate! (Mental note: Sodium- good name for the baby)

Geez! My brain hurts!.....real or not...take it from me! Don't watch 'The Matrix' for the second time. Skip it and go right to the third time.