Wasn't supposed to get there. It's a destination from which no one returns, yet here I am.

The arrival in Old happened so quick, I am still trying to make sense of it all. In the span of two weeks, my entire way of living has changed. Between the time I was diagnosed and today, my body has already started misbehaving.

My vision has degenerated changed to the point where I can't focus on objects up close unless I peer over the top of my glasses or take them off. Doing either makes me feel older than I feel.

Ok. Mobile posting is full of fail.

It appears it's been a resounding success. Here's a small excerpt of a note he posted yesterday on the site:

The show went on sale at noon on Saturday, December 10th. 12 hours later, we had over 50,000 purchases and had earned $250,000, breaking even on the cost of production and website

It's fantastic to see someone with such visibility taking the approach of selling their art/work directly to their audience. Radiohead and Nine Inch Nails have done it with some success and it's good to see it spread to video production.

I am an enabler. He spat the word at me with derision and my reflex was to feel offended. Pausing on that word for a moment, I realized his snap judgment of my character was absolutely right. I encourage bad behavior all the time, especially in the people closest to me. However, I also condone good behavior, even in people whose presence makes my skin itch.

Here's why: Every person should be allowed to live their lives in the manner they choose, regardless of the wishes of others. As long as the activity or behavior doesn't interfere with the same allowance for others to do the same. This is something I believe down to the core of my being to be true. (Doesn't mean it's right, sane or feasible, but there it is.)

To that end, if someone I know is drinking themselves to death, I won't lecture at them to seek aid, but if they do, I'll support them through the process as I can. I just think we're all doing what we can to survive until the end. Whatever you path you choose is your own.

When I returned to the office, one of my coworkers asks me, "Is that your mug?"
"No," I replied, "it was hanging in the breakroom."

At this, his face crinkled up like one of the aforementioned styrofoam cups in a microwave. A noise indicating complete revulsion leapt from his lips and he says, "That's gross."

Not wishing to be seen as an unwashed heathen, I informed him that I had taken care to wash it with hot water and soap. Still, he was unwavering in his position that what I was doing was foul beyond reproach. So, I inquired as to his dining activities.

"Do you ever go out to eat?" says I.

"Of course. Every once in a while," says he.

I asked, "Do you bring your own water glass with you?"

I don't know, but I wish my father had told me about nose hairs. After all, I inherited this from him because Mom never had a mustache that started in her nostrils. Now, they're a constant nuisance for me. My hair is starting to thin, but still grows reasonably fast and my hirsute nose is no exception to that.

Of course I have a trimmer. I'm not a barbarian. It's one of those cheap AA-battery operated deals and my rechargeable batteries finally gave all. Two weeks ago, I could just see a peeker at the top of my unshaven lip. That's too much time to let one of these things go.

This morning, when I looked in the mirror, I could see what amounted to a set of spider's legs, wiggling their toes at the base of my nose. Springing into action, spiders in tow, I finally got replacement power for the trimmer. As soon as I slammed the battery in place, I flipped the switch and started the trimmer. Spider's legs gone and sanity restored.

Here's what I wish my father had said to me: "Son. Hair will begin growing in places you didn't think it could. Be prepared and always have batteries on hand."

Well, I like it short and sweet, so here it is (with the heading and legalese removed) for those that need the assistance.

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LA Noire: The Naked City
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Question 3: Response:
Identity of 'Mr. Henderson' Lie -> List of Contraband

For example, what I had intended to type was the following:

I have an erectile dysfunction medication clock and an alarm on my phone.

Referring to the Viagra promotional wall clock I purchased at the local ASPCA Thrift Store. Gem like that has got to be worth a lot, eh? Nope. $1.49 out the door. Best purchase I've made in weeks.

So here is the consequence of having man-sized fingers while typing on the dainty keyboard of a netbook:

I have an erectile dysfunction

Short pause while I type and the remainder of the sentence is sent.

medication clock and an alarm on my phone.

Dammit!!

As with anything in life, you have a choice. Read further...or don't. It's your time, your life and your web.

New approach? Hands off?

The gravity of Google's ultimate decision on this matter will not be felt until well after the choice is made and implemented. I further believe that it will impact the internet as a whole.

Here's some other links I came across regarding this subject:
From the U.S. Department of State
From ComputerWorld: Government
From PublicAddress.net <- Yeah, I don't know either, but Google said it was relevant. K?

Require all Amurikans to purchase only vehicles from Amurikan companies. Require every citizen of the United States to mortgage a home. Require every Amurikan to carry life insurance.

How the hell did we get to a point in our society where our government can force us to redirect our earnings to private organizations? I'm not a historian nor do I enjoy learning more about Amurikan history because the more I discover, the less faith I have in our government to help shape a better future for its citizenry unless they're a "corporate" citizen.