Or "What Happens On t'Internet Stays On t'Internet".
Humour me for a moment. This is purely hypothetical, but let's say I were to post something on t'Internet - maybe on Bobo, or Facepoke, or perhaps even right here on Blogwhore. And then I decided, perhaps because of unfavourable feedback, to delete those last three posts. Not that I ever would, you understand, what with it being my blog, my rules, but if I did. That would be them gone for good, right?
Obviously there would still be my own copy on the pooter where I composed them, and the backup copy stored on the Google server out in California or wherever. And any copies that you, my reader, might have downloaded between me posting and deleting them. Oh, and anything that you might have written in your own blog about it, or emailed to your friends, family and passing acquaintances. And the RSS feed and that. But apart from that?
Thank fuck for that. For a minute there I was worried that something might have slipped out.
On a completely unrelated topic, I'm worried that Mrs Farty has been seeing a minor celebrity behind my back. I'm sure it's nothing, just a platonic friendship that I'm blowing out of all proportion. And the photos are probly fakes. But...well, decide for yourself.
