As a tech support representative, I am entitled to tell you that computers have a certain demonic intelligence and lie. They lie about how long it has been since I wrote my last entry, they lie about the availability and price of independently-produced lo-fi music, and, most reprehensibly, they lie about people's investment club accounting data. Organic creatures who believe they have "souls" are clearly incorruptible, whereas machines can always be saddled with the responsibility of confounding logic and bypassing any sense. "My bank statement doesn't match this accounting program! What's wrong with your software?" Indeed, sir. Has the withdrawing member cashed her check yet? "Oh..." I sit and nod, while scientific method and generations of positivist philosophy get it up the ass.
Hick Yelp of the Day: "I bet you heard me screamin' all the way from Kentucky!"
Music: Cos� fan tutte
Prose: Christopher Moore's Lamb, about Jesus's boyhood. When the comic novelty loses its shine (it's getting a little too high-spirited for me, frankly), back to Musil for me.
Game: (with CC, best ever) Munchkin. Is my geek slip showing?
Sleep: Yes.