bring the noyz

Yes, slightly more freaked out.

But due in part to some sort of underlying lonely sadness it does not seem quite as fucked up.

If you have not yet subscribed to Salon, well don't feel bad because neither have I.

You should, my dear reader, you really should. We both know it is the right thing to do.

And so should I. But I've spent a lifetime watching PBS without feeling the slightest tinge of guilt, even during pledge drive week, so let's just be honest and say that there is no blood coming from this stone.

So either pay or watch a brief ad. Whatever. Just do it already.

Then make yourself a strong drink (as the weather is turning cooler slowly drifting into autumn, I suggest something a little darker and heavier, perhaps some bourbon, as I am having). . .

Comfortable? Relaxed? Good. . .

Now read this.

What the fuck?

Good. But let's do it once more with feeling. . . WHAT THE FUCK?

Maybe it's kinda fresh on my mind because I watched "I, Robot" on HBO this weekend, but I know it's just a matter of time before technological advances. . .

Well, my dear reader, like me, use your own imagination to finish that sentence.

Wanna feel creeped out a little more? Like something's not right but you can't turn away. . .

I know you do. It's October, almost Halloween. It's just the right time of year for feeling all creeped out.

Okay then. Now slam what's left of your first drink and make yourself another one. Make it a double.

And then go make yourself one.
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