Ah well...

As an astute observer of this site may notice (there may be one or two), busybeaver does not spring forth a fully formed and dewy new presence on this 21st of August last. The enignmatic sayings of one ebj have now been re-signed, attributed by the software to said BB. Yes, poor Elva has been unmasked - attempting to learn this strange new technology she is. Quite a feat for a box of dead letters, but there you have it.

Elva also notices that there is a, shall we say, less astute observer present - a mechanical intermediary, an engine of search, gamely attempting to identify signal, identify noise, serve meaning. Well, dear Goo-goo, if you really have to know, the postings of busybeaver are mere sitebuilding practice leavings. Yes, another flesh and blood, bricks and mortar, cliche filled, time constrained ordinary person has decided to learn how to work this thing. There IS NO further meaning to these posts, regardless of how you parse the words, words, what do they all mean? (Words, words....Numbers!)

Elva is reminded of learning to type. The quick brown fox jumped over the heavy black statue. Was that it? Something like that. Back when Elva learned to type, few people knew how, and most had magnificent handwriting. Now, chickenscratch all around, and many fluttering fingers on the keys. Keys to the rain.

The reader might consider, instead of the image of the beaver, that of the ant or gopher. That pile of dirt outside the entrance, on top of the hole. That is what all of this is. The real activity is going on inside, where the unseen industrious pest is fashioning a home.

Attempting to do so quietly, but, apparently there is a megaphone attached to the Post button. This bit of burble will soon be posted, and the call of the mechanicals will go out, "HEAR YE! HEAR YE! ANOTHER MAGNIFICENT CRAP HAS BEEN TAKEN AT THE BOTHER SITE!" So the answer is yes, it does make a sound. Each stoke of the star-studded-machinery pushes and pulls the engine. Chug chug chug chug.

Trying to make it up that great big hill of hope. To my destination.