I have today off. So naturally, I am spending it scratching my ass with thoughts such as:

Did you know that on May 28th of last year at around noon, I turned a billion seconds old? And I didn't even do anything. Frig.

A billion is a big number. Think about that the next time Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End makes a billion dollars. The next time I have a billion-second-aversary to celebrate, I will be in my mid-sixties.

Did you know an asteroid nearly obliterated the earth last week? It's stuff like this that really gets up my skirt. WHERE ARE THE LASERS. The company I work for is in the process of building a new cross-country high speed network; perhaps they could install lasers on all the towers to prepare for the next asteroidal near-hit. That way if a big rock was coming at Canada, Stephen Harper (or someone intelligent) could hit the big red button marked "lasers" and KZZPOW! she gone.

We have a black president now. It's time we stepped up our concern level re: planetary obliteration by asteroids.

Whether it's giant 'roids, Skynet, or good old fashioned locusts there's something appealing about wiping the slate clean with a solid global disaster. I call it "the lure of the post-apocalypse." Admit it: you want to live in a desert world fighting for gasoline, or a water world fighting for cigarettes, or the emotional dystopia of Margaret Atwood's A Hamdmaid's Tale (if you got to buck the system and live). Economy? Fuck economy! Fuck money! Time was, a captain's job was simple: a ship could help you find work, a gun could help you keep it.

Why isn't the prologue segment from Firefly on any of the DVDs? It was nice.

And: is yesterday's commenting incident further related to the possibility that there are two Daniels, weaving in and out of this and an alternate universe, and that once again, one of them does not know which universe he is in?

Well anyways. Nice talking with you.