- My computer is now fixed, as long as the word "fixed" doesn't imply the ability to access my CD drive or persuade my speakers to make any sound whatsoever;
- I can now make good on my promise to put up something in honour of Kim's birthday. My first inclination was just to type "German ninjas" into youtube (which was quite the eye-opener in itself), but I eventually decided to ignore videos in favour of the following picture of a baby penguin, since it's pretty much the only thing known to man that can stop Kim mid-rampage and force her to start cooing; 
- I didn't necessarily think a great deal of the New Yorker cover that started all the whining, but this should pretty much clear up why some of the arguments as to why it didn't qualify as satire were more than a little odd;
- Whilst laughing at death of marsupials isn't cool, I have to admit being more than a little amused to learn of a kangaroo getting mauled by a shark. That must have been one confused fucking fish. Big G suggested that the witness may have murdered the kangaroo himself and chosen the shark as a patsy, but I'm sure there must be more plausible animals to blame it on than that. A pack of wild dingos, for example, or possibly a troop of enraged wombats. I also like the quote "It wasn't a huge shark", which I guess is implying that the kangaroo was a pussy for getting pwned;
- While we're on the subject of animals, this article passed me by the first time around back in January. I really think the NYT needs some help with their headlines, since this piece should obviously have been called "Scientists Allow Monkeys To Control Giant Fucking Robot". When are those educated elitist liberals going to learn? If a monkey can force a robot to walk, it can force a robot to crush the head of its puny human overlord. That might be what the robot wanted in the first place, anyway, and I for one don't want to leave the security of a species in the hands of a bunch of lobotomised spider monkeys. Seriously, what next? "Researchers demonstrate macaques can use brain-waves to fire machine guns?". This is exactly how planet of the apes started, and since Charlton Heston is dead we probably can't go crying to him when the lower primates decide it's their time for a bite of the cherry . Some would quite rightly label this fiasco as the beginning of the end for human civilisation. I, on the other hand, choose to believe that the universe handed me a tremendously messed-up birthday present, and forgot to mention it.
Well, that should do for now. Tune in in another four months as this blog hits 200 posts, by which time I plan to have either cured cancer, or found a new way to insert the work "fuck" into an otherwise ordinary every-day sentence.
 Well, her own children might do the job, but we'll have to wait a while before that hypothesis can be confirmed. Or will we?
 On the other hand, watching monkey-controlled killer robots battle the zombified remains of Charlton Heston clutching a rifle would almost make the whole thing worth it. I may develop that into a screenplay once I'm done with Werewolf Ninjas vs Ghost Pirates and it's sequel, Werewolf Ninjas vs Ghost Pirates vs Nazis on Velociraptors.