Thursday, April 14, 2005
I do not often get sick. Which is a very good thing, because I make a poor invalid. I spent much of last night and this morning worshipping at the altar of a certain porcelain god which, if not quite properly nameless, shall go unnamed, and now I feel like a moldy raisin. Fun, fun, fun.
The Bush Administration is selling more F-16s, which can be easily modified to deliver nuclear weapons, to Pakistan. U.S. "intelligence" indicates that Pakistan has been modifying its existing F-16 fleet to carry nuclear weapons since at least the early '90s, in defiance of a Pakistan/U.S. treaty.
As of 16:39 GMT (EST+5) Apr 14, 2005, the human population on planet Earth had reached 6,430,599,484.
Ron Perlman turned 55 yesterday.
Do the math, people. The writing's on the wall. Signs of the Apocalypse and everything.
I'd just go the frell back to bed, but I'd only lie there feeling guilty about not working. I don't know when the hell I went and became so goddamn responsible. Oh, for the careless days of yore, when I could justify missing a chem exam because I had a bit of broccoli stuck between my teeth. It's official. I'm tired of being a grown up.
Er...yesterday. I don't know. I read William Hope Hodgson's "From the Tideless Sea," which I thought particularly effective. All else has been blotted from my addled brain. Ouch.
12:57 PM
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