This makes absolutely no sense. Unless you are an imbecile, you probably agree with me. For those of you who are imbeciles, I shall present you with an analogy:

Customer: Waiter, you brought me a turd instead of my pastrami sandwich. I find myself unsatisfied.

Waiter: Sir, I'm so sorry; as a token of my sincerity, please allow me to bring you another turd; an exact copy of this turd, except for the fact that this second turd will be free. Which means that I still expect you to pay for the first turd.

Seems wrong, eh? Yes, it does. As a citizen of the United States, I find it appalling that you help contribute to the cultural degradation of such fine traditional values as "logic" and "lack of stupidity". It is your responsibility to behave differently; to behave as I would have you behave. And why? Why, that's simple; because I am The Customer.

Except I'm not, actually. You know. I can't imagine anything more lame than building a business that caters to the despair and disillusionment of human beings. Just kill them, already, you pricks.

I'm Tired.

I'm also tired. Oh wait, that's the same thing... Did I mention I was tired?

Today was "stock option money actually showed up in the bank account day", and I spent around 4 g's before noon. I've slowed down since then, but FREE MONEY, BITCHES! Really, all I bought was a new computer, an HD video camera, and a new router. Still, I have serious issues parting with money. Once it goes into savings or investment, it stays there forever, so that....

Actually, I forget why I'm doing that. I think it's fear of commitment.

I will be buying another gun with it, too, but I'm going to wait for a while for that; I have more research to do.

I'm also either going to Japan, or to Tel Aviv. But first, I'm going to go out on the deck and have a cigarette.

You Know How I Know I'm Going To Hell?

I've stopped listening to my Mom's stories when I make my periodic telephone call. See, I had to, though; they're getting more and more winding and pointless, bogged down in trivial minutia and tangential detail. You could hardly call that my fault.

Still, I feel bad.

But less bad than when I interrupt to say, "ok, Mom, it's been like 30 minutes since I last told you I didn't like talking on the phone, so could we please hurry the second-by-second slow-motion recap of Uncle Whoever's surgery that you told me about last week too, along, and now it's fucking dinner time, and I'm hanging up, love you, buh bye". Really, it's mainly the curse word. I'm a grown man, but it just feels mean.

Then again, mean, not mean, whatever. All construct bullshit.

So it seems my ancient copy of Photoshop 7, licensed to me, fair and square, finally doesn't work since moving to Leopard. Man, what a situation.

OK, Dudes

Laundry load 2 needs to be done, and I've got things to burn, shoot, drag and drop.

Oh yeah, also, I may have been wrong about ground wars. Or I'm running sabotage now for fun. Definitely one or the other.