Farmer versus Fox

Big Time, Tangent Man, Landslide, Stretch, Little Stretch, The Blade, Guru.

Are these
a) rappers
b) a superteam
c) oh god you’ve got to be kidding me.

Though Turd Blossom seems apposite.

In other news: Kneel before Zod.

Quite a week, all in all.

On Thursday, I get my first paper accepted – I think, I can never quite read between those narrow lines.

On Friday, I submit my thesis, within mere hours of a deadline I discovered only weeks ago.

This much, you know.
(Probably.)

Five hours ago, I had an interview for a 3-year research post that I CRAVED. It was a three-day process preparing.

One hour ago, I got the job.

Fifty-nine minutes ago, I was informed that the job could start pretty much when I want, i.e., take a bloody holiday.

Fifity-eight to fifteen minutes ago I drank booze.

Four minutes ago I decided I am geek enough to blog my successes, drunk.

Sweet.

It’s done.

It’s done?

It’s done.

I’ve been checking out The Sharpener recently, a decent UK group blog about politics and whatnot. I’m enjoying an abortion debate that is still going strong 250(!)-odd comments later. It gets a bit messy and pointless in the middle, but picks up, more or less, from about my post time-stamped (those who know my thesis know how reluctant I am to utter those words) August 31, 2005 @ 8:06 pm. But then, I would say that, wouldn’t I? I’m having fun trying to winnow out a coherent atheistic position on embryos being equivalent to people. Not much luck so far. Join in if bored (and polite; otherwise the whole thing becomes pointless).

Other than that?

Work, work.

From Chris Brooke’s site:

“Rhinoceros” is the best one, though, when it comes to plurals.

You can pick from “rhinoceroses”, “rhinoceros” (unchanged), “rhinocerotes”, “rhinocerons” or “rhinocerontes” (though you can’t have “rhinoceri”, which is what some people, I think, are taught at school — along with the equally incorrect “octopi”).

I asked a friend once what the plural of “rhinoceros” was, and he immediately answered — quite correctly — “rhinos”.

Thesis coming, coming. And check the sidebar for deli feed – it’s updated in real time (as opposed to fake time – I’m an expert on this so don’t contradict me) and thus a far higher output than when I was actually trying to add content. Ah the ironing.

This site has been moribund recently, which is a sign that my thesis is progressing. To allow anyone who would like to tap into my flavours du jour, I’ve incorporated a del.icio.us feed in the linkbar on the right. The links below “my del.icio.us” are things that have impressed, puzzled or disgusted me on the web. It will update as I add new stuff so even if there is nothing happening on the front page, there will be (minimal) new content on an ongoing basis.

Oh, and give Murky a hand with his new photo game, will you?

Patriotism, n. A willingness to sacrifice everything for one’s country and what it stands for, including one’s country and what it stands for.

Freedom, n. Ammunition for use in the Global War on Terror, which is being fought over it, cannot be fought without it, and will therefore come to an end at the precise moment that it is entirely exhausted.

Rapture, n. The process by which the most fervent proponents of Christianity are to be abruptly transported to another place. While some expect the RAPTURE will take place before the imposition of Hell on Earth, the better authorities have the two occurring simultaneously, an arrangement that would forestall unseemly rejoicing among the damned.

Islamofascism, n. An amalgam of religion and meaningless expletive, bound together with the “o” from “veg-o-matic”. Originally coined by Communists in their struggle to explain the indifference of Muslims to the self-evident charms of Communism, this word tends to evoke hysteria in the listener, whether as an insult to Islam, as an insult to the English language, or as a humiliating reminder of things that are foreign and hard to pronounce.

link

We treat our bank managers like we treat our doctors. They say, ‘Ah, you’ll need to buy some insurance with that, sir.’ And we believe them. But in fact we’re just being sold things. And this is an industry that’s self-regulating.”

The state of the credit industry.

At a direct-mail conference, a new item in the arsenal, the post-it note:

The letter has all the technical details. You throw the letter away and keep the Post-It Note!” So the devil is in the detail, you chuck the devil in the bin, and all you’re left with is a friendly, brightly coloured Post-It Note with a number to call. It seems that whenever new regulations are forced on the banking industry, someone springs into action and devises a clever new idea that might legally avoid them.

And on meeting the man who made the original case for democratising credit to all:

It becomes obvious during my conversation with Lord Griffiths that he has come to believe that he inadvertently unleashed some kind of monster. He says he never could have predicted “the dynamism” with which the lenders would pursue his ideas. “The dynamism,” he says. “The innovation.” I’ve never heard these words uttered with such sadness.

The casualties.

I remember an old Bob Dylan song – Who Killed Davy Moore? – in which a boxer dies in the ring. In the song, the crowd say it wasn’t their fault (“It’s too bad he died that night, but we just like to see a fight”). The gambler says it wasn’t his fault (“I didn’t commit no ugly sin, anyway, I put money on him to win”). The opponent says it wasn’t his fault (“I hit him, yes, it’s true, but that’s what I am paid to do”). In the song, nobody killed Davy Moore and everybody did.

What I want to know – in the metaphorical sense – is, who killed Richard Cullen?

A moving, and frightening story, here.

I’m fine, but would appreciate people letting me know they are.

UPDATE: Minor, only one injury reported (and that apparently a bomber). Move down to canary yellow alert.

Bloggers

(Tip o’ the hat to Cleek at Obsidian Wings.)