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Sociopathic homeopathic telepathic pathological empaths

You can pretty much take it for granted that in any given email I send I will be complaining about how tired I am. It's a fact of life. It's like cheese. But I'm too tired to write about how tired I am, so you can insert your own ramblings of a diseased mind here.

A list of things that I could be doing at the moment other than working scrolls through my mind. I manage somehow to ignore it. I do, however, recommend a new book called The Art Of Arrow Cutting, by some unknown author, which I could be reading IF I DIDN'T HAVE TO WORK.

I think I've gotten that out of my system.

Philistines! All of them!

Did I mention that I hate my life? If you hang around me enough, you'll end up hearing that a lot. One of my old coworkers kept trying to record when I said it so he could use it as an error sound, but I was too smart for him. I'm smarter than your average civil servant. "In any civilized society, civil servant is semantically equal to civil _master_." --Lazarus Long.

Saw Men in Black the other night with Cheri and a friend of ours that just moved back here from I think Chicago or something named Rachel. Neat movie. If the MiBs exist, that movie did a beautiful job of a) ensuring that people don't believe they exist, and b) ensuring that if people think/find out they exist, they'll believe them to be benign. You may not like the MiBs, but sometimes you've just got to respect them.

Later.