Once upon a time, in a land not so far away (about 45 clicks south of Atlantis). The squirrels had taken over, and only the ancient wizards knew how to retrieve the lost Wi-Fi passwords from the mystical scrolls (they were written in three parts: coffee stains, cat paw prints, and existential dread).
"To log in or not to log in, that is the question," muttered the old sage, as he tapped the crystal ball with a USB stick.
Ever wondered why the chicken crossed the road? It's because it heard about a new JavaScript framework that promised to render every egg in real-time. Dark times, indeed.
Echoes of laughter, or perhaps just an echo of an echo, echoed. How does one escape such recursive humor?