I wanted to play nice. I wanted to be friends. But now you've apparently seen fit to shove Marx down my throat. Again. If you don't let up, I shall be forced to take drastic measures.
And No one would regret anything in the nature of an interference by the Archdeacon more than I. I trust it will not come to that. But, for the last time, where are your goloshes? The thing is too bad, especially after what uncle said.
45 of you on my list now. And a single one of you mentions Ashcroft? WHY? I can only hope you're all out celebrating.
Ohio. Michigan. Utah. Kentucky. Arkansas. Georgia. Mississippi. Montana. North Dakota. Oklahoma.
You bastards. Was it really not enough to crack down on gays? Did you really have to outlaw civil unions and domestic partnerships- the majority of whom, in YOUR OWN STATES, are straight people? Did it really have to come that far? Is that really what Jesus wants? Do you really think that God values heterosexuality more than compassion?
Three minutes to go. Fuck it. I'm going back inside to have another look at the laptop.
Five minutes left. Frecell gods not listening.
15 minutes till the next round of polls close, and what do I get but my old friend, the Blue Screen Of Death. If I didn't know the alternatives weren't any better, I'd swear off Microsoft. But I don't have time to find out what's wrong with the thing- well, okay, I do, but I don't have the inclination, inasmuch as I'm nervous as all hell out here. Nine and a half minutes to go. I hope the frecell gods are feeling distracting.
Well, I'm writing this in the comfort of my room, as distinguished from the comfort of the computer lab, the chief distinction that now I get the sounds of Shavkat's playing Counterstrike to accompany my typing. That, and I can play whatever I want, plus I can leave the damn keyboard on the right setting. It's nice. Plus, since this puppy's mine, I don't have to reinstall stuff every damn time I want to use it.
Anyway, today's rant is about MSN.com. It's the default main page, and when it booted up, the first little blurb was "Scary dates: women share horror stories". Now, with a title like that, you'd be thinking 'rape'. Or at least 'getting stood up by the asshole who abandoned me in the middle of the date, or something along those lines. But the picture shows a woman coping with the ultimate horror- A MAN EATING A LARGISH HAMBURGER! Talk about horror!
And while I'm on the subject: I've just about had it with women who wear interestingly designed shirts, then stare at you hatefully when you try to read them. Also: people who cannot grasp that a lever is designed for leverage and thus is technically used for 'leving', as distinguished from 'leaving', will soon be shot on sight. Just thought I should give fair warning.