Hello. My name is Aaron, and I am calling you from a robotic voice-activated recording device…click, whirr…How are you today?…click, whirr.
Hello. My name is Erin, and I am calling you from a robotic voice-activated recording device…click, whirr…How are you today?…click, whirr.
As it were. As it is.
I’m an irregular regular at library discard sales, usually browsing the orphaned texts that possess no universal product codes to reveal their identity for the database-connected; however, among my fellow book-seeking regulars are buyers equipped with handheld scanners that report the marginal value of each barcoded volume: one electronic click-seek at a time…leave, buy, buy, leave, leave, leave — leafing is not only unnecessary but a wasted effort that squanders marginal value.
I’m a leafer, I’m a laugher, I’m a midnight loafer. Sure don’t want to hurt no one.
I try to become inured of the unpleasant encounter, the expectedly callous, the inconceivably gullible, the luck of the licentious liar — so far without success. But it leaves me something to write about on this electronic leaf.
I can find the noun Kardashianism online, but I seem the only person in the Googlesphere searching for this noun: “inurance,”
Did you mean: Insurance?
The robiotic keyboard-activated borgs presently responsible for all things “inurance” have found not a twit, so I am coining the word as you read, as the search-bots report back to the robiotics, the results of their crawls. Long live inurance!
Essential absurdity is yet the essential existential explanation.
Abide as best you can.
Thanks for reading.