Ohhhh my tummy.

Figaro and I have been eating like pigs. I don't want to go on about my personal life or anything, but I will say this: it's fucking glorious to be with a man who treats you like MacGyver because you've figured out all you need to make Italian hot chocolate is a double boiler, some cream, chocolate and a whisk. The only good thing about his departure this Sunday is that I can pick up with my more ascetic lifestyle that makes my ass look so much cuter. By which I mean smaller. He doesn't seem to mind it's expanding visibly. Good.

Okay, all 14 of you . . .

When you watch television, you think you're a customer; that you are who the networks and channels are catering to. But you aren't the customer. You - your attention and engagement - are the commodity. When you pay for cable, it goes to supplier and service companies - not to the channels, not the networks. The real customers of television channels and networks are large advertisers who pay for ad time. Do you see what I mean? Advertisers buy your eyes. They buy your eyes through the intermediary of the television channels, who attract your eyes by putting on shows that appeal to your market demographic.

If you don't have a problem with that, bully for you, you spineless fucking sucker. But . . .

At the end of March, Philips applied for a patent for a device that won't allow you to change channels during the advertising portion of a broadcast (that's a 'commercial break' to all you shiny-box addicted trogs) or to fast forward the ad portion of broadcasts taped with a DVR. Do not let this happen. Do you understand me? Do not let this happen. Because if you, the television public, allow this to happen, I'll stop feeling guilty for my role in the corporate passion play whose plot involves taking advantage of YOU and just figure you get what you're lazy enough to deserve.

Suckers.

News links:

New Scientist
ZDNET News

Nothing is nicer than Nina Simone's voice. I think it's time we gave up thinking God sounds like James Mason. James Mason sounds like he's gargling vomit in comparison to Nina Simone. You don't get as smart as God and then not sound like Nina Simone when you could because you're God.

Aiiii.

American journalists are so fucking dumb. They say 'tenaciousness' instead of 'tenacity'. And they're pussies who are addicted to soft reporting. Bunch of fucking pussycats. Telling us about some old gay guy having a baby with a dunderhead my age when actual events are happening in the world. American journalists SUCK.

Dummies.

Oh hello.

I feel like cotton candy and am posting from work, for the first time in ages, because home is just too interesting right now to waste time typing.

Eeeeeeeeeeesh.

Earlier this weekend we watched Pink Flamingoes. My brain was raped by it. John Waters raped my brain. On Saturday night we saw Opera Atelier's production of Orfeo. Somewhat lame. Fucking Pynkoski didn't shut up again. Nice duets. Brain. Work. Slow. Whatevs.

Hey, you know that song 'The Bends' by Radiohead? Is it just me or does it sound like Thom Yorke is singing 'baby's got Depends' once in awhile?

Lates.