So that’s what non-existence feels like. A little underwhelming, frankly. And I’m not a big fan of the tech support line hold music. Sheesh.

Howdy. Speaking for myself and the rest of Big Green (which, essentially, amounts to my illustrious brother and various bizarre hangers-on), I want to apologize most humbly for our little Web site outage over the last couple of days (February 12 – 13). Those of you who visit these pages regularly (all three of you) may have noticed an absence of …. well, anything on this and related domains during that time. Suffice to say we had a little dispute with ICANN over our true identity, which (of course) we have striven to keep secret so that we can continue to fight crime when called upon. That’s all I’m going to say about it. Now excuse me – the Bat Phone is ringing.

I know there are a lot of bloggers and self-managed web proprietors out there who have run into domain authentication issues like this and worse over the years, so I’ve got little to add to this common experience. All I can say is that, when you’re in the middle of an ambitious indoor agricultural initiative, highly reliant on robot labor, it’s a little disconcerting to have someone pull the plug on you because you gave them the wrong email address fifteen years ago. Fun fact: when this site goes down, the lights go out in the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill and we’re all frozen in place. Try calling a tech line in suspended animation! Good thing we have friends on the outside.

It’s just one of the drawbacks of being a virtual rock band: our existence is dependent on the availability of a reliable Web server, which, as any web proprietor knows, is simply an impossibility. That’s not the only link in the Big Green supply chain, of course. There’s the data input piece as well. Picture rows of chimps plunking at keyboards. Then there’s those two antenna like things with the electrical arc snapping between them – the one that Mitch Macaphee loves so damn much. In short, there’s a lot that goes into bringing this blog and our various podcasts into being. Sometimes there’s a break in the chain, and then the whole house of cards comes tumbling down. Makes you think.

Hey, what do I know, right? I’m just a guy who plays the piano and strums a guitar. All the science, I don’t understand. This ain’t the kind of place to raise your kids (up in). I got nothing.