Drunk, hungover, away, working, listening to aforementioned iPod, having a broken home PC. All of these things have kept me away from SBBS for a few days. Now, however, I return like a phoenix.

Unfortunately, I can also think of about as many interesting and/or amusing things to say as a phoenix. If I were a newspaper columnist who had to say something (anything!) substantive, I’d probably go off on a dull techie rant about how consumer electronics manufacturers have managed to solve the extremely-hard-to-solve problems of fitting a CD library into a 1cm by 5cm by 10cm package, and of creating a similarly sized device that gives you fast Internet access everwhere in the world – but not the comparatively-easy-to-solve UI problems that mean both devices perform below their potential [1].

But I’m not, so I won’t. Instead, you should muse on human rights versus vending machine rights, and possibly also on why the president’s idiocy matters. I’d also recommend reading about a more exciting but (hopefully) more doomed campaign by an unglamorous war hero to oust a terrible, terrible corrupt, warmongering Republican. The fact that it’s written by a certified, certifiable genius with a head full of ether and mescaline helps, as you might expect.

[1] Perhaps engineers shouldn’t be put in charge of consumer-focused projects. Despite the obvious intuitional bias to the contrary, it may be that designing a functional UI is actually harder than doing clever things with microelectronics.

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The Russians have been responsible for a wide variety of unpleasant things in the course of recorded history. However, this gin-based energy drink may well be the most horrible.

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Shock shock horror

So last week’s ‘terror alerts’ were not only unnecessary, but also blew a major undercover operation to track down terrorists.

Really, I’m so surprised.

Why the fuck does GWB poll ahead of Kerry on his handling of the War on Some Terrorists? A crippled, lobotomized goat could do a better job.

Update: link fixed. Thanks Michael…

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On Alan Steynor

Recorder Alan Steynor is a terrible cunt, who deserves to be brutally murdered in his sleep.

Jailing anyone for drug possession is a retarded and brutal waste of time and money that only a lunatic could ever countenance. Yet even within those parameters, jailing people in their 70s whose only crime is to not grass up their junkie son is uniquely vile.

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I’m iller and less capable of working than I’ve ever been on a work day, thanks to last night’s insane jolly. Highlights included our telesales manager buying the MD an enormous melon, which later got drop-kicked up 9th Avenue; me ordering sambuca shots for everyone in the bar on the company tab (four times); the ‘who can drink the strongest Belgian beer’ contest; and the head of marketing exclaiming “I have to leave right now. I’ve just realised I’m not just the only girl still drinking, but also the only American”. And then staying for another three hours.

Sorry. In my head this post sounded much more interesting and much less Ricky Gervaise-y. Admittedly, my head isn’t a venue of sense at the moment.

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Six years in jail seems highly unreasonable for crashing your car. Unless we’re content for society to have the moral understanding of a five-year-old, the judicial system should be about intentions rather than outcomes.

In a similar vein, I’m still slightly ashamed of myself for not following through on my plans to set up a ‘free Gary Hart’ campaign.

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Living up to stereotypes

New York is a peaceful city, which doesn’t deserve the reputation it earned in the last century; I’ve seen the crime stats, and I’ve been out in the city and felt safe. Therefore, it must just be an unfortunate coincidence that I saw some bloke get shot on my second night in town.

That’s a slight exaggeration. We heard what could have been a gunshot or a car backfiring or a firework, thought ‘ah, it’s just our English paranoia, there’s no way it was a gunshot’. 15 seconds later two black guys dressed gangsta-ishly came running past, one staggering and looking very unwell and the other propping him up and yelling variations on ‘this guy needs a motherfucking ambulance’ to the (many) passers by.

Being pathetic wusses, we walked away very fast until we were a few blocks further downtown, and went to a Starbucks to chill out. I’m still slightly in shock…

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Mysterious city

It’s easier to buy a phone charger in this city than a Sunday newspaper. And they showed an edited version of Pulp Fiction on TV yesterday lunchtime. Truly this is a strange place.

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