Me ‘N Ellis in WP Blunderland.

Abstract: Turns out at least a third of my WP navigation maze is secretly shared with the maze of my bloging-neighbor, Ellis J Greblos.

We met yesterday, both of us shocked. I was tired and cranky, on Hour Three of looking for the entrance to my Dash-board, and following only mile-long dead-ends into ‘Your Douche-Bird’…dumb unusable shit like that.
Ellis, turns out that was his name, was equally exasperated, not having been able for almost three days to locate his ‘My Blog‘. But despite the understandable grouchiness, we had a grand old time sharing horror tales. Misery does indeed love company. Here are some miserable highlights:

Yes, now that I think about it, I did hear some noises in adjacent hedge-rows lately. Always too busy laying down the sunflower-husk trail markers to want to investigate, I’d chalked it up to the whirr of my hard-drive. Ellis, a truly likeable guy, had actually seen my red shirt once, even excitedly tried to find an Editor/Compose page to blog about it. In vain though.
One cool common-horror we discovered was that we’d both, independently been at the same stupid ‘The Back of Nixon’s Head’ admin-page. For me it was seven clicks (three right, four left) after leaving Marker 13. And for him, just the opposite, but  from his Way-point Charley. And both of us had stopped a second and pissed on it!
Anyway, we sat and split what had survived from my lunch. The cooler I always bring on my exploring missions had been squashed into plastic shards when I dumbly stood on it to maybe, just maybe, get a look above the maze of hedges. Sitting there eating flat sandwiches, Ellis talked about the time he’d actually found the ‘Blogs I Follow’ gateway. There were even signs with one-line tidbits of Posts, but try as he might, the paths leading to the posts always led, circuitously, to yet another sign, this time with a half a paragraph. After a left and two rights. Usually. He’d even read enough of one post to want to Comment, but there was no  break in the fence-line for that. Sadly, he spent an hour and a half even getting back to the Reader, which was now vacant. Yet the taskbar on his GPS laptop said ‘Done’. And he agreed: ‘Yeah, I’m done with this horse-shit for today’. By the time he even found the Log-off it was dead dark, and he’d navigated from the sound of his peanut-shells crunching underfoot.
Ellis’s face lit up with recognition when I started to recount the infamous ‘Drop-downs’ I’d tried to chart, then gave up. They were all kinda similar yet different. A wide space in a trail suddenly opened up and you stood there facing sometimes a dozen exits. They were labelled at random, usually with some in-house heiroglyph or other, and from bitter experience, over the months, I’d learned to simply turn around and try to go ‘Back? Lots of times ‘back’ led me back all right, to the same stupid clearing, but from one of the ‘exits’. Me n Ellis made a vow to piss on them on sight, in the future. Thus we would be able to tell, by smell, if one or the other of us had been there.
I could go on, of course. One of Ellis’ dysfunctional Editors was most likely shared in our maze-overlap. Not that either of us had any use for it. We’d both tried to use it in vain, writing screaming rants-against-the-system to no one listening, then never finding the exit for Publish. I once went through a 3-pound bag of sunflower seeds trying to re-locate my own rant. It was rumored to be in a ‘Draft‘, but, you know, inside the maze there’s precious little air moving, especially through that ‘long endless summer’ I wasted trying to navigate (and blaming myself in those days.)
We parted, each in search of his own ‘Log-in’ and just minutes later I heard the unmistakeable sound of…. a gas-powered hedge-trimmer. It stopped briefly, and I yelled: “Dat you, Ellis?”
“Nope.” he yelled back, “Great idea though! I got one myself, back in the garage. I’ll show this damn place who-da-boss!”
“Fine,” I told him “Tomorrow after work. And cut toward my distress flares; I think we supposed to call ’em ‘Likes’.” 

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8 thoughts on “Me ‘N Ellis in WP Blunderland.

  1. somewittyhandle

    Being the nosey type that I am, I am googling the name Sille. So far, I have you as an Argentinian of Danish descent whose maternal grandmother was called Cecilia. Am I close?

    I can never hear ‘drop-downs’ without thinking of the latrine facilities at a scout camp I was at once.

    Reply
    1. solberg73 Post author

      Those very drop-down latrines, with which Newton was so enamoured, inspired him to make gravity a a hot item on his ‘to-do’ list. out of gratitude for its direction.
      And ‘Sille’, as his friends call him, is actually Turkish, which explains the taffy and towels he always takes with him on explorations.

      Reply
  2. solberg73 Post author

    Aha, and mud seems to be the WP mantra. Describes well the clarity of the instructions and the ease with which innocents become stuck in culs de sac.Did I mention the quicksand traps in the maze after even a light rain.?
    Hey, let’s try html formatting again. I’ll probably get comfortable with it by the turn of the century:
    FOR MATTING

    Reply
  3. whyzat

    Jeez, I don’t know why you have quite as many WP travails as you do! Don’t you get an email when one of your “followers” posts? Ugh, drop down menus, one of the more insidious computing necessities. And what’s with “reblog,” anyway—with it’s arrows circling a square, forever chasing each other’s fletching? Why does it exist? To aid plagiarists?
    I’m afraid that your hedge will soon become choked with sunflowers and you will be later than the March Hare to your trysts with Ellis.
    RYC on my Xanga post: It’s so disappointing that the Xanga Overlords of Doucheyness can’t even make the gift subscriptions work. Well, I find WP better for back and forth conversations, but there is still something that attracts me to Xanga. I suppose it’s the people who are there.

    Reply
    1. solberg73 Post author

      Yes, I get a flooded email inbox showing an undependable scatter-shot of comments and posts by my ‘Followed’. Says I can reply via email directly, but that feature is broken. of course.
      And for every failing I exaggerated here for comic effect, there are ten I didn’t include.Just trying to reply here:
      1) The page you get to from ‘login’ shows only the first sentence of a new comment, and clicking on it kicks you into ‘edit the entire post(!).
      2)The little red cartoon box does open an undependable window-let with the entire comment, but room for only a one-line answer before the ‘Reply’ click scrolls out of reach.
      And there are four or five other places you can try, each with its own unforgivable ‘Duh?
      Designed by drooling mouth-breathing fools, I say.
      Xanga is of course worse. they not only dropped the ball, they punctured it in seven places, squished the air out of it, burnt the remains, and now are trying to *sell* it? My gift sub is probably lost and dead, Although ZSA-MD has the receipt for buying it, generously, for me. Big ugh!

      Reply
  4. eleanorio

    I have already forgotten about Xanga. It is a thing of the past. Google has done some “improving” to Blogger.com, and I had a helluva time locating a post there I wanted to link to one of our fellow ex-Xanga-pats. I had a moment’s panic: Where’s my dashboard?! Yes, I found the post, but it was a rather circuitious route I took to locate it. Why fix things that aren’t broken? That’s what I want to know.

    Reply
    1. solberg73 Post author

      Yes, no place is safe from the crazed updaterz. My bank, credit-card and electric company websites are now, all three practically unusable after gross and misguided revamps. but WP is the most aggravating of them all;, the pox de la creme of irritation. it feels to me like one of those forcible R-hand spoons they used to give to ‘deviants’, born left-handed.

      Reply

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