A blink and it's gone. But it was there. A virus invaded this blog, posted strange, twisted tales of love gone wrong, heart ache and financial penury. This virus, devious little devil that it was, even posted replies to my poor confused readers who actually believed the urban myths being touted by said worm. While the worm is as good as gone, I doth fear it could rear its ugly head again. Thus, I've countered. Fire with fire.
Grouping the mental loins of my mind, I have devised a plan by which we can thwart said worm should there be random recurrences of its ugliness. But I will need your help, Dear Readers. If you would please join with me in this fight to the death against a viral anomaly bent on destroying the narcisstic armour I have constructed so diligently, shielding my true persona from the harsh light of celebrity, I would be immensely grateful.
What needs to transpire is merely this. If a post should appear here which mysteriously reeks of truth, transparency or unabashed sincerity, the Dear Readers need to spring into action. As quickly as your nimble little fingers are able, post a response which includes the code words "snake in the grass" or "snake on the loose" or "uncurable maniac invades blog." I have installed a hidden device which, upon detecting these words will instantaneously send me a super-buzzing text message on my phone instructing me to call a secret 1-900 number where I will hear nothing but the words: "Who doth hast the unalienable right of pretension?" whereby I will give the password "Thy delectible diva, Bunnyjo." After a series of beeps, a computer generated voice will direct me to enter my secret 4-digit pin number. Then I will have to verify the last four digits of my social security number. Then, after spelling my mother's maiden name, the computer-generated voice will read the posted message. Pressing # then activates a seek-and-destroy counter-worm programmed to decimate any invading worm within contact. Voila! Problem solved. Ingenius, yes?
It is good to be Bunnyjo.