After my shocking revelations of yesterday, I received an official communication from the Lab – It was very official, with a proper letterhead and everything, and unlike other letters they’ve sent me, it was typed – not written in wax crayon! Right across the top, it had written, in big, bold CAPITAL letters: ‘CEASE AND DESIST’ – which I think is Americanese for ‘stop!’
Apparently, all that juicy gossip I told you about the Lab and Facebook yesterday is all untrue – the made-up story by a ‘disgruntled former employee’, so the letter said. (That aside, if you can be ‘disgruntled’, I’ve always assumed it’s also possible to be ‘gruntled’, but I’ve no idea what a gruntle actually is, or whether I’d want mine removed – if anyone can enlighten me, I’d be grateful). You can imagine that I was a little put out by this: I take all sources of information for this blog in good faith, and this particular source had even said “cross my heart and hope to die”, when I asked them if what they were telling me was definitely kosher.
That’s why I took the unorthodox step of phoning up the Lab – of course, I disguised my voice, by putting a handkerchief over the mouthpiece and wearing a false moustache – you can’t be too careful, after all. Eventually, I was put through to a Linden who questioned me at length, (about 38 metres in total), told me I’d been very bad indeed and then accused me of breaking the Golden Rule – yes, they even capitalised it with their intonation. When I told them I had no idea what the Golden Rule was, they spelled it out to me… After which, I asked them please could they just say it, because spelling was all very well, but I didn’t have a pen with me and I’d got lost after the second word. I’m guessing that most of you – it being unlikely that you’ve ever disclosed to the world at large a fake commercial secret, told to you by a disgruntled ex-employee – don’t know the Golden Rule either, so in the interests of expanding everybody’s knowledge, here is what I was told:
The Golden Rule: You must never believe anything a Linden tells you.
There you have it – you can’t say you haven’t been told now!
Anyway, I politely thanked the Linden on the other end of the phone, and taking my new-found knowledge to heart, I applied The Golden Rule and completely disbelieved what I’d just been told! It was time to take things further… All the way to the top, if I had to.
There was only one thing for it, logging in to SL, I donned a fake prim moustache and disguised my typing by putting a handkerchief over the keyboard, before setting off to find Mr Big himself: Ebbe ‘Oculus’ Linden!
That isn’t quite as easy a task as it might first appear. My attempts to get him to add me as a friend went unanswered; similarly my IMs demanding an interview appeared to fall on deaf ears; and, apart from that, the guy is as elusive as a pound coin when you need to unlock a supermarket trolley. Eventually, I was forced to loiter with intent, in a tent, intently watching and waiting for him to show up inworld, and – like a wildlife cameraman who comes back from having a quick pee behind a tree, only to catch a glimpse of the retreating hindquarters of a snow leopard, after six months hanging around in a damp, uncomfortable hide for one to show – I finally spotted his retreating hindquarters. Hurriedly pulling up my pants, I waddled after him calling futilely: “Ebbe, Ebbe… Talk to me!”
When I finally caught up, my plans were thwarted yet again. Being such a popular dude, and so important, he was thronged – thronged I tell you – with a vast multitude of people wanting to touch the hem of his, erm… jeans. I couldn’t get anywhere near him.
Driven to desperation, I hit the SHOUT button:
“Ebbe! IsittruethatSLhasbeensoldtoFacebookandwe’realldoomed?”, I blurted out at the top of my typed voice.
Everyone around me fell into a horrified silence and all ‘look at targets’ turned to focus on me. Ebbe himself gave me a quizzical look with a raised eyebrow, like Mr Spock, only without the pointy ears: “Now, who on earth told you that nonsense?”, he asked.
This was my moment, I took a deep breath: “That doesn’t matter”, I said. “I just want to know the truth”.
He shook his head. “You can’t handle the truth!”, turned on his heel and walked away. That’s the last thing I remember before a bunch of Linden moles bludgeoned me to Kingdom Come, (rather a nice sim, actually), and forced me to log out.
So there you have it – draw your own conclusions. SL may or may not be doomed – probably not, my lawyers have instructed me to say, but what do I know? Apparently, I can’t handle the truth, but then again I take that with a pinch of salt…
I haven’t forgotten The Golden Rule!
I looked under chairs
I looked under tables
I’m tryin’ to find the key
To fifty million fables
The Who – The Seeker