Yippee-ki-yay, wanker.

I don't want to brag, but I am not dead, in case there were any concerns on that front.

It seems that every other week features the world threatening to collapse in on itself, or at least those parts of it surrounding New Washington. It would be novel to have a world where I don't have to be concerned about the corner store being looted when I need to go buy milk, but the political climate is as it is. It seems the more logical course of action would be to find the person currently running the book, and find the odds on the next catastrophe being, oh, various cell phone satellites falling out of the sky, throwing communications into disarray and causing (of course) city-wide riots, but making the cinema a more enjoyable experience.

Eight-to-one, do you think?

Here I always thought it was Mother Earth and Father Sky.

Blows that idiom right out of the water, it does.

At the risk of starting a Doctor Who flame war (and feeling a touch homesick because of it):

The new Doctor may well be my favorite.

It's not simply because she's a woman, although that is an interesting variation on the concept. Mind, the fact that it took thirty incarnations to get to her is a bit odd, but there you are.

Of course, thirty Doctors in and a few dozen series lost to time and solar flares, I can't say for certain that she is my absolute favorite, but she's a damn sight better than Twenty-Eight.

Had I realized that Von Teese's show would become astonishingly difficult to find tickets for, I might have bought more than two of them.

Now I'm torn between actually going and selling them for several large sacks of money with dollar signs painted on the outside.

Culture? Or capitalism? The eternal debate.

[Edit] Happily, the dilemma has been resolved for the time being, though if I should finally snap and murder the young lady accompanying me before the show, I will make anyone looking for a ticket aware of the opening.

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