There's this Spencer Tracy/Katharine Hepburn vehicle called Desk Set which was striking all sorts of chords with me - about a research department that thinks it's getting replaced by an International Business Machine 'electronic brain' (though I'm not sure how much I'd mind getting replaced by an electronic brain). Uber-aggressive product placement aside, it's really cute - especially cute if you care about the human and organic organization of information, have to put up with arrogantly incompetent tech departments at your office, and if you're curious about how people thought about computers before they were called computers and before acronyms.
My point is that I'm going to stop calling them computers and start calling them electronic brains. Also that I love Spencer Tracy . . . and . . right. Finally, that arsing off in an office situation should be both allowed and encouraged.
Tonight we're seeing the Nutcracker, my not-so-surprising Christmas present to the F-word. Seeing the Nutcracker is going to be my annual Christmas tradition, no matter where I am in the world, and if that does mean Qatar on a lousy pay package I'll just make some Fisher Price action figures dance it out. A child's hallucination of a ballet to that pretty, pretty music - good God, I love the Russians. So pagan - the death and regeneration of the warrior prince! That's the true fucking spirit of Christmas and we all know it when we watch the Nutcracker . . . anyways, I hope that's the case, because I'm so not in the Christmas spirit at the moment. More in the weekend spirit. I wish I was allowed to drink at work.