Time and Materials
When, on this blog, we use the word “we”, we really do mean “we”. Editorially speaking, there are two of us. Now, in keeping with this site’s raison d’être, we couldn’t possibly divulge our real names, so you’ll have to make do with our pseudonyms instead.
M: I’m Morpheus and she’s Tiffany.
T: Or, to put things in the correct order, I’m Tiffany and he’s Morpheus! In short, we’re T&M. I’m “time” and he’s “materials”. If you put the two together in the right way, then “There will be light.” At least, we hope so!
M: Thanks for that little peroration Tiffs. As you can see, I’m an old fashioned kind of gentleman, the sort who let’s the ladies go [T: and also come!] first, spoil them a little, and let them have there way—be it wicked or otherwise! As we couldn’t possibly provide photos for a profile, you’ll have to make do with some word paintings instead. So Tiffs, describe me to our honoured guest.
Morpheus: A Harbinger of Sweet Dreams
T: Well, imagine Neo (Keanu Reeves). Inject some steroids and a sense of humour. Then add a big smile. That’s our Morpheus: the kind of man to warm your heart, and not just that other part! This son of Somnus will certainly put you to sleep, but only as a consequence of first making you very, very wide awake! All in all, a harbinger of sweet dreams. Now Morpheus, how about me?
Tiffany: Iridescent and Compelling
M: Well, what can I say about Tiffany? In keeping with the fons et origo of her name, I think “favrile glass” describes her well: freely shaped, iridescent, compelling. Or, to change the metaphor, a sports car that purrs silkily most of the time, but demonstrates the amazing amount of “Oomph” that lies under the bonnet whenever she decides to “put her foot to the floor”.
Her choice of pseudonym is rather appropriate, for she looks not unlike that other T-lady, Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss), only an improved version, the Mark II! Think back to the first time you saw The Matrix. Remember that opening scene, where Trinity—clad in a wonderfully tight, black, leather cat-suit—despatches half a dozen opponents, sprints across rooftops, jumps a yawning chasm, dives—à la Superwoman—through a window, rolls down a flight of stairs, and then elegantly uncurls, two guns at the ready. Suddenly, you realise you haven’t been breathing for the last few minutes, and you feel, rather than say, “Wow! Oh! She’s hot! Weak-kneeingly hot! Tom-cat-who-got-the-cream hot!” Well, that’s our Tiffs. ’Ot she be! And she sizzles in many delightful ways, be they little or large! [T: Ah! Flattery will get you everywhere I want you to be!]
T: If you belong to that very tiny minority who likes our irreverent, idiosyncratic, and eclectic style, then—don’t panic—we can recommend a good shrink. Or, at least we know a Man who can. For, as Big Brother continually reminds us in ponderous and solemn tones, “Not appreciating the Great and the Good is not only a symptom, but also the very definition, of mental illness.” In so-called democracies, such a diagnosis provides a useful excuse for locking up dissidents and throwing away the key. In attested tyrannies, there is, of course, no need to avoid wasting the resources of the State in such a frivolous manner; in these countries a summary execution followed by a roadside burial proves both an exemplary and a cost-effective alternative.
M: Well, did I lie, dear reader? As you can well imagine, when Tiffs gets going she’s all hot metal and sprung steel. Just be thankful she’ll never have the opportunity to wrap her thighs around a delicate part of your anatomy when her passions are running high!
M: As we have the misfortune to be a freedom-loving pair of cybernauts, we’re sure to offend Big Brothers, both East and West. So our existence may well prove to be a peripatetic one of cyberspace gypsies. But just Google our signature line to find us—assuming, that is, we’re not one of those 50,000 souls about to be sacrificed by Google on Big Brother’s high altar!
T: Psst! Psst! Have you forgotten that Blogger is now owned by Google?
M: Oh! Bug——r! You don’t mean the same crowd that sold out to Big Brother in Beijing?
M: Well, as I was just saying, our existence may well prove to be a …. Down boy! Nice Google! Nice Google! Well, to be fair to Google, they do put up at least some resistance—unlike others, Billy Boy! As I recall, Google did recently make a token challenge to BB in the courts. And our Chinese friends can at least see that www.tibet.com exists and have the benefit of a short description, even if when they click on the link the contents always seems to be “lost in cyberspace”.
How the other half surfs!
By the way, whilst I’m on the topic, do you want to see how the other half lives? Or, should that be surfs? Then try exiting Tor through a Chinese node. We’ll show you how, day jobs permitting.
The Great Google!
M: So, to all you detractors of the Great Google we say, “Have a heart!” After all, once Big Brother knows who you are and where you keep your assets only a token resistance is possible. We, on the other hand, being mobile, pseudonymous entities are free to “take the piss” as, and when, we please. And now it’s time to party!
T: Oh! That’s a clever ploy! Criticism, with a complement in its tail. Saying nice things about Google means they’re sure to promote this blog.
M: Yes, brilliant isn’t it. I’m sure we’ll come up as the first hit whenever anyone searches on “privacy”. No need to create dummy links to promote this blog. All we have to do is a little unctuous crawling instead!
T: Why, it’s a ploy worthy of BB himself. You worry me at times Morpheus. Sometimes I think you’re in danger of selling out to the other side. Are you sure that navel of yours is still as Mother Nature left it?
Big Brother’s Coffin: Nails needed!
T&M: Well, as a certain rabbit says, “That’s all folks!” Oh! And, as to “The One”? Well, we’re still looking for him. Who knows, it could be you!
Confucius, he say: “Gold very welcome!” T&M, we say: “Confucius, he very wise man!”
Every donation is a nail in Big Brother’s coffin. True, the coffin may be of Brobdingnagian proportions, and we are but two Lilliputians! But, it’s the principle that counts: even if we’re all dead men walking, we can still choose to walk that “Green Mile” with dignity.
M: A bit heavy don’t you think? T: Yes, don’t you just hate those types who’re always serious when faced with disaster? M: I can’t stand people who’re always asking for money. T: I agree! Who is this grubby little pair? M: I certainly wouldn’t give them any money. T: Especially with all that “school boy” punctuation; far too many inverted commas and exclamation marks for my liking!