/* I suppose I'd better update, so as random people still believe in my existance - inasmuch as I exist to them at all. I fail to see how existance can be meaningfully transmitted via TCP/IP. I'm sure, for example, that if (for some undefined, undefinable reason) circumstances demanded it, Toby could emulate my style well enough to trick all of the people some of the time...
... which is probably just long enough.
"But seriously, folks..."
Actually, sod that last statement. Do not, under any circumstances, take me seriously.
I never do.
But - what's happening? Nothing. Except in that I'm reading through and preparing my mind to edit "Twelfth Banquo"
(working title), by Ben
, the most highly esteemed William Shakespeare (roughly), a variation on Mark V Shaney
, some unsuspecting legal hack at Microsoft
, and myself... suffice to say it's, well, alternative, farcical, and at the moment starts with Act II Scene I, and someone (undefined) gets stabbed in the second line.
We need to work on this one.
blogger's broken. Keeps throwing back Errors 503 at me. "We're working on this. Please try back later." Oh well. Brain fucked - core dumped - situation, well, normal. */