You wanna incur the wrath of ... whatever, from high atop the ... thing?

I've been slack here lately for a number of reasons. I suppose the first one is that recently everyone seems to have come round to the whole Labour-hating horse I've been flogging for years (or months, to be more accurate, in terms of this blog). It's not so much fun when most people would agree with what you write. I've also has less time available at my computer, and it's enough work simply to read the stuff I want to read, let alone to write about any take I have on it. A friend of mine was given his notice at work recently, and not before time in my opinion: not because I think they should have fired his ass a long time ago but because they never gave him anything to do, and had he been generally less timorous on such matters he would have quit months ago. The reason I know this is that when I, gloriously "between projects", log into Gmail around noon, he'll be online and will immediately hit me up on Gmail chat. All well and good, except very quickly the impression is formed that when I sit at my computer, unemployed, I'm busier than he is. I have more shit to do at my computer than he does at his, and he's getting paid!

So, a few links then.

Believe in nothing, until it has been officially denied.

Someone's off-message! Your job's none too safe!

I need to watch things die, from a good safe distance.

I had a big eulogy half-written out for this, but it just sucks too much to write about. Maybe another time.

Looking forward to the National Identity Register, then.

At present, the West Wing line making me laugh the most, including the title of this post, is:

SAM: The GAO needs a little housekeeping, and that's my nickname, okay? I'm "The Housekeeper."

TOBY (interrupting): Hey.

SAM: God, that's a terrible nickname ... I'm not going with that nickname any more.