27/10: Rejected taglines
Some of you have noticed this blog doesn’t have one of those deck/tagline thingies under the main banner. No Hart Crane excerpts, no pithy quote, no summary of oh, say, what the content might actually be.
My apologies. I’ve been working on it.
The current list of possibilities includes:
I’ll let you know when I decide.
My apologies. I’ve been working on it.
The current list of possibilities includes:
- Tilting against windmills, spitting in the wind, and pissing up a tree. Since sometime in 2005.
- Topics? We don’t need no steenking topics!
- This blog ain’t got no video.
- The internet: the technical marvel via which you receive porn. And this site.
- She canna take much more of this, Captain! She’s only a blog!
- God does not hang fuzzy dice on the universe.
- We now resume irregular programming.
- Chaos and the void. In legal XHTML.
I’ll let you know when I decide.
27/10: More mandatory McSweeney's
Today’s mandatory McSweeney’s is Celebrity Biographies Written by a Guy Who Cannot Distinguish Fiction From Reality.
Yes, this is the standard blogger’s ‘non-post’ post. As in, I’m just doing this because I have no time to come up with new material of my own right now.
But the McSweeney’s thing is pretty funny, all the same.
Yes, this is the standard blogger’s ‘non-post’ post. As in, I’m just doing this because I have no time to come up with new material of my own right now.
But the McSweeney’s thing is pretty funny, all the same.
25/10: He said what?
Yes, yes, it’s a lovely interview, all that Kingdom of Heaven stuff is interesting. Yes, I might even go looking for the extended version, as I do very much fall in the group of people who thought the film was okay (despite being a bit haphazardly fictionalized), but a bit scattered. Something a little longer, filling in some blanks, I think I could be talked into watching that.
But hey, people, what’s important here?
As if it isn’t obvious. The important thing is that in this interview, Ridley Scott himself says Decker was a replicant.
Well. Nice to have that settled, finally.
But hey, people, what’s important here?
As if it isn’t obvious. The important thing is that in this interview, Ridley Scott himself says Decker was a replicant.
Well. Nice to have that settled, finally.
21/10: Bad sign
So the kittens apparently still have this unpleasant protozoan parasite in their guts. Not sure I want to get graphic about the symptoms. Let’s just say it involves strong odours. Stronger than usual. ‘Nuff said.
I say ‘still’ because they apparently had it when we bought them. We treated them, diagnostics seemed to suggest it was gone… Despite that odour still being ‘round.
It’s been a while, odour’s still there. Went back to the vet, and the damn bug definitely isn’t gone. So we’re treating them again. Much more aggressively this time. A suspension and a pill… The suspension, I can handle, been there, done that. The pill, well, damn…
Cats and pills, I’d heard stories. I’m not really a cat person, historically, but I’d heard stories. And coulda probably figured, even without having heard such talk that it’s not gonna be the easiest thing, getting a cat to take a pill. And now I (yes, I get all these lovely duties) gotta get these damned things into their guts twice a day, for eight days…
And there’s a bad sign. The vet has helpfully provided a sheet that describes how one pills a cat. On the front side, there’s the actual instructions, with photos. On the back, they’ve included the following bit of encouraging whimsy:
How to pill a cat
But hey. They didn’t lie. It was seriously ugly, getting to a method that works.
Putting the stuff in food doesn’t work—it’s bitter, they smell it. The chicken flavoured ‘pill pockets’ apparently aren’t to their taste, either. So we’re down to direct methods: pry the jaw open, put the pill in.
This, of course, as the above suggests, is hazardous. The kittens, they’re sweeties, really—got all their claws right now (the soft claws fell off… they’ve grown a bit… we’re putting more on in a bit when they stop growing quite so fast), but they’re not particularly vicious, don’t tend to scratch much (and I don’t make it easy, anyway). But they hate the taste of the drug. They squirm like crazy. And those claws, they do have them. And, because they’re kittens, everything’s a bit smaller than with a grown cat. Less skull and jaw to hold on to, smaller target to get the damned pill into.
And Louise especially is incredibly stubborn about it. Do the whole thing, wrap her like a burrito in a towel, pin her down, get that firm grasp on her skull and lift, and she just sets her jaw, refuses to open it, seems capable of sitting like that ‘til doomsday looking at you, determined expression in her eyes. Open it with your finger, and you have to use some force… which makes it bloody difficult to get the pill far enough back she can’t spit it out. And she does spit it out—five or six times, with her tongue. I’ve got decent reflexes, but getting the hand delivering the pill to her jaw quickly enough to clamp it shut and massage the pill down just isn’t on.
I win, in the end. Yes, cats are beyond stubborn, but I’ve got a good and readily offended sense of smell, and am determined this protozoan is dying this time, dammit…
So I get one of those ‘cat piller’ things—sorta like a dry syringe, use the same technique, more or less, to get it between stubborn feline jaws, fire it home, so it’s well down their tongue, and we’re off…
Sort of. Still gotta get Louise’s jaw, in particular, clamped shut in something like half a second after the pill’s in, or she’s still quite capable of ejecting it with her tongue. But that, I can do.
The moral of the story: don’t mess with primates. Some of us are just as stubborn as any cat.
And we’ve got opposable thumbs. And tools.
I say ‘still’ because they apparently had it when we bought them. We treated them, diagnostics seemed to suggest it was gone… Despite that odour still being ‘round.
It’s been a while, odour’s still there. Went back to the vet, and the damn bug definitely isn’t gone. So we’re treating them again. Much more aggressively this time. A suspension and a pill… The suspension, I can handle, been there, done that. The pill, well, damn…
Cats and pills, I’d heard stories. I’m not really a cat person, historically, but I’d heard stories. And coulda probably figured, even without having heard such talk that it’s not gonna be the easiest thing, getting a cat to take a pill. And now I (yes, I get all these lovely duties) gotta get these damned things into their guts twice a day, for eight days…
And there’s a bad sign. The vet has helpfully provided a sheet that describes how one pills a cat. On the front side, there’s the actual instructions, with photos. On the back, they’ve included the following bit of encouraging whimsy:
How to pill a cat
- Pick up cat and cradle it in the crook of your left arm as if holding a baby. Position right forefinger and thumb on each side of cat’s mouth and gently apply pressure to cheeks while holding pill in right hand. As cat opens mouth, pop pill into mouth. Allow cat to close mouth and swallow.
- Retrieve pill from floor and cat from behind sofa. Cradle cat gently in left arm and repeat process.
- Retrieve cat from bedroom, pick up and throw soggy pill away.
- Take new pill from foil wrap, cradle cat in left arm, holding rear paws tightly with left hand. Force jaws open and push pill to back of mouth with right forefinger. Hold mouth shut for count of ten.
- Retrieve pill from goldfish bowl and cat from top of wardrobe. Call spouse in from garden.
- Kneel on floor with cat wedged firmly between knees, hold front and rear paws. Ignore low growls emitted by cat. Get spouse to hold head firmly with one hand while forcing wooden ruler into cat’s mouth. Drop pill down ruler and rub cat’s throat vigorously.
- Retrieve cat from curtain rail, get another pill out of foil wrap. Make note to buy new ruler and repair curtains. Carefully sweep up shattered figurines and vases from hearth and set on one side for gluing later.
- Wrap cat in large towel and get spouse to lie on it with head just visible from below armpit. Put pill in end of drinking straw, force mouth open with a pencil and blow into drinking straw.
- Check label to make sure pill not harmful to humans, drink glass of water to take taste away. Apply Band-Aid to spouse’s forearm and remove blood from carpet with cold water and soap.
- Retrieve cat from nelghbour’s shed. Get another pill. Place cat in cupboard and close door just enough so that head is showing. Force mouth open with dessert spoon. Flick pill down throat with plastic band.
- Fetch screwdriver from garage and put cupboard door back on hinges. Apply cold compress to cheek and check records for date of last tetanus shot. Throw tee-shirt away and fetch new one from bedroom.
- Ring fire department to retrieve cat from tree across road. Apologise to neighbour who crashed into fence while swerving to avoid cat. Take last pill from foil wrap.
- Tie cat’s front paws to rear paws with garden twine and bind tightly to leg of dining table. Find heavy duty pruning gloves from shed. Push pill into mouth followed by a large piece of fillet steak. Hold head vertically and pour 2 pints of water down throat to wash pill down.
- Get spouse to drive you to emergency room. Sit quietly while doctor stitches fingers and forearms and removes pill from right eye. Call furniture shop on way home and order new dining table.
- Arrange for RSPCA to collect cat and ring local pet shop to see if they have any hamsters.
But hey. They didn’t lie. It was seriously ugly, getting to a method that works.
Putting the stuff in food doesn’t work—it’s bitter, they smell it. The chicken flavoured ‘pill pockets’ apparently aren’t to their taste, either. So we’re down to direct methods: pry the jaw open, put the pill in.
This, of course, as the above suggests, is hazardous. The kittens, they’re sweeties, really—got all their claws right now (the soft claws fell off… they’ve grown a bit… we’re putting more on in a bit when they stop growing quite so fast), but they’re not particularly vicious, don’t tend to scratch much (and I don’t make it easy, anyway). But they hate the taste of the drug. They squirm like crazy. And those claws, they do have them. And, because they’re kittens, everything’s a bit smaller than with a grown cat. Less skull and jaw to hold on to, smaller target to get the damned pill into.
And Louise especially is incredibly stubborn about it. Do the whole thing, wrap her like a burrito in a towel, pin her down, get that firm grasp on her skull and lift, and she just sets her jaw, refuses to open it, seems capable of sitting like that ‘til doomsday looking at you, determined expression in her eyes. Open it with your finger, and you have to use some force… which makes it bloody difficult to get the pill far enough back she can’t spit it out. And she does spit it out—five or six times, with her tongue. I’ve got decent reflexes, but getting the hand delivering the pill to her jaw quickly enough to clamp it shut and massage the pill down just isn’t on.
I win, in the end. Yes, cats are beyond stubborn, but I’ve got a good and readily offended sense of smell, and am determined this protozoan is dying this time, dammit…
So I get one of those ‘cat piller’ things—sorta like a dry syringe, use the same technique, more or less, to get it between stubborn feline jaws, fire it home, so it’s well down their tongue, and we’re off…
Sort of. Still gotta get Louise’s jaw, in particular, clamped shut in something like half a second after the pill’s in, or she’s still quite capable of ejecting it with her tongue. But that, I can do.
The moral of the story: don’t mess with primates. Some of us are just as stubborn as any cat.
And we’ve got opposable thumbs. And tools.
20/10: And they call him mad!
Mike the mad biologist asks an excellent question:
Why is this issue neglected? For generally the same reason we freak out and vastly change the very character of our civilization through regressive security laws and ill-advised and at least occasionally profoundly unjust detentions allegedly aimed at thwarting ‘global terrorism’ when the actual risk to a given individual of dying in a terrorist attack isn’t even a blip in the pile of bodies pneumonia and car accidents pile up on this continent every year. Some 400,000 people in the US died due to smoking-related illnesses in the year 2000 (PDF), and some 25,000 from motor vehicle accidents. But a large pile of small tragedies doesn’t make good TV the way one large tragedy (and yes, the WTC attacks absolutely were an enormous tragedy) does. So we’ll sacrifice our civil liberties if we’re told some guy in a beard is after us with a bomb strapped to his abdomen—never mind that there are already a lot of measures in place to thwart him actually getting away with that, never mind that there are a lot more nasty viruses out there lurking than actual bearded guys with bombs. Never mind that yes, you can overdo it trying to prevent any given hazard, and there are other fish to fry.
Similarily, AIDS and TB have that cachet. You think of them, when you think of disease. AIDS, in particular, is new, still kinda exotic, and bloody dangerous to adults in the developed world, too, so we get what that means, and it’s interesting.
Pneumonia, not so much. It’s been around forever. Kinda like the common cold of public health planning—no one expects to get rid of it, exactly, and we know it’s going to exact some toll, every year. And a lot of what’s going to make it less trouble, though very, very doable, is probably, as Mike implies, more about capacity and infrastructure. More beds, more doctors, better-stocked fridges with more antibiotics. Not real sexy, and funding stuff like that doesn’t let you say ‘I’m part of the solution for scary, scary AIDS’, but ultimately, it’s (i) doable and (ii) almost certainly more effective in terms of actual lives saved.
So, ultimately, the reason is: we’re stupid. Or, more fairly, stupid in certain, specific ways. Got no sense of proportion, in certain areas. React in spectacularly ill-advised and disproportionate ways to dramatic visuals and causes de jour, when the numbers are ultimately far more informative. Go on and on about dirty bombs in shipping containers—which yes, could theoretically happen, and some prevention is thus probably called for… like, say, keeping better intelligence tabs on groups who might try to make such a thing happen—when better sex education (30,000 deaths in 2000 due to preventable diseases and disabilities due to sexual behaviour, according to the same study) would probably save more lives every year. Ironically, sex education, in PR terms, is unsexy.
So here’s to solving unsexy problems, anyway, to dealing with endemic diseases a little more aggressively and systematically. And to generally keeping a sense of proportion about things. And here’s to what Mike said.
Pneumonia blows AIDS and malaria out of the water—and TB doesn’t even make the cut. When it comes to children’s health, it’s not the ‘Big Three’, but the boring, old Gram-negative and Gram-positive bacteria: diarrhea and pneumonia. So why is this issue neglected?Yes, I know it was partly a rhetorical question. But I’ve never let that stop me.
Why is this issue neglected? For generally the same reason we freak out and vastly change the very character of our civilization through regressive security laws and ill-advised and at least occasionally profoundly unjust detentions allegedly aimed at thwarting ‘global terrorism’ when the actual risk to a given individual of dying in a terrorist attack isn’t even a blip in the pile of bodies pneumonia and car accidents pile up on this continent every year. Some 400,000 people in the US died due to smoking-related illnesses in the year 2000 (PDF), and some 25,000 from motor vehicle accidents. But a large pile of small tragedies doesn’t make good TV the way one large tragedy (and yes, the WTC attacks absolutely were an enormous tragedy) does. So we’ll sacrifice our civil liberties if we’re told some guy in a beard is after us with a bomb strapped to his abdomen—never mind that there are already a lot of measures in place to thwart him actually getting away with that, never mind that there are a lot more nasty viruses out there lurking than actual bearded guys with bombs. Never mind that yes, you can overdo it trying to prevent any given hazard, and there are other fish to fry.
Similarily, AIDS and TB have that cachet. You think of them, when you think of disease. AIDS, in particular, is new, still kinda exotic, and bloody dangerous to adults in the developed world, too, so we get what that means, and it’s interesting.
Pneumonia, not so much. It’s been around forever. Kinda like the common cold of public health planning—no one expects to get rid of it, exactly, and we know it’s going to exact some toll, every year. And a lot of what’s going to make it less trouble, though very, very doable, is probably, as Mike implies, more about capacity and infrastructure. More beds, more doctors, better-stocked fridges with more antibiotics. Not real sexy, and funding stuff like that doesn’t let you say ‘I’m part of the solution for scary, scary AIDS’, but ultimately, it’s (i) doable and (ii) almost certainly more effective in terms of actual lives saved.
So, ultimately, the reason is: we’re stupid. Or, more fairly, stupid in certain, specific ways. Got no sense of proportion, in certain areas. React in spectacularly ill-advised and disproportionate ways to dramatic visuals and causes de jour, when the numbers are ultimately far more informative. Go on and on about dirty bombs in shipping containers—which yes, could theoretically happen, and some prevention is thus probably called for… like, say, keeping better intelligence tabs on groups who might try to make such a thing happen—when better sex education (30,000 deaths in 2000 due to preventable diseases and disabilities due to sexual behaviour, according to the same study) would probably save more lives every year. Ironically, sex education, in PR terms, is unsexy.
So here’s to solving unsexy problems, anyway, to dealing with endemic diseases a little more aggressively and systematically. And to generally keeping a sense of proportion about things. And here’s to what Mike said.
19/10: I'd just like to say
… that I’ve only ever used one of these.
And it was Vivaldi. Used on wedding table place markers, done as a favour to a friend. Vivaldi was effectively required, as it had been used on the rest of their stuff already.
But otherwise:
Yeah. Don’t use those.
And it was Vivaldi. Used on wedding table place markers, done as a favour to a friend. Vivaldi was effectively required, as it had been used on the rest of their stuff already.
But otherwise:
Yeah. Don’t use those.
Walks into grocery store. Sees woman with jogging stroller. In the stroller, where there would normally be a child, there’s an enormous pumpkin.
What he (barely) manages not to say:
“So… who’s the father?”
What he (barely) manages not to say:
“So… who’s the father?”
16/10: The master's song has ended
So Lister Sinclair is dead. It’s all over the radio this morning.
I was gonna link to one of the various obituaries being printed, but, frankly, the lot of them seem kinda pathetic, right now, against the man himself. I’ve found a handful that mention the outlines of his career, his Order of Canada, all rather boilerplate and obvious.
Sinclair just wasn’t an obvious guy. We need an Ingersoll to write something like he did for Whitman.
Obviously, that’s not me. So I’m just gonna say I’ll miss him.
I was gonna link to one of the various obituaries being printed, but, frankly, the lot of them seem kinda pathetic, right now, against the man himself. I’ve found a handful that mention the outlines of his career, his Order of Canada, all rather boilerplate and obvious.
Sinclair just wasn’t an obvious guy. We need an Ingersoll to write something like he did for Whitman.
Obviously, that’s not me. So I’m just gonna say I’ll miss him.
16/10: Lio
So it’s been my job to put the little guy to bed of late. He’s in a ‘want Daddy’ stage, still too rambunctious to stay in bed by himself, still a bit too young to reason with, so this entails lying down with him a bit (or, sometimes, a lot, as he can take up to 90 minutes to doze off, on a bad night) until he settles down.
This is awkward, as it’s one of those nice little wooden kiddy bed things—pretty to look at, great if you’re not yet two years old, not so comfortable otherwise. I have to fold myself up considerably to get in there.
Last night, I wound up there for the whole evening. Had gotten up at three the morning before, so last night I dozed off when he did. Woke up in the middle of the night, but then had to put him back down, anyway. He’d woken up screaming. I’m guessing he’d had a nightmare or something—whatever it was, it took a while.
Strangely, I seem to have survived. Scary. Apparently, I can sleep curled up in a ball.
The cats would be impressed. I must compare notes with them.
This is awkward, as it’s one of those nice little wooden kiddy bed things—pretty to look at, great if you’re not yet two years old, not so comfortable otherwise. I have to fold myself up considerably to get in there.
Last night, I wound up there for the whole evening. Had gotten up at three the morning before, so last night I dozed off when he did. Woke up in the middle of the night, but then had to put him back down, anyway. He’d woken up screaming. I’m guessing he’d had a nightmare or something—whatever it was, it took a while.
Strangely, I seem to have survived. Scary. Apparently, I can sleep curled up in a ball.
The cats would be impressed. I must compare notes with them.
09/10: Technical best
Sign of the times. Yes, there is a remarkable new technology out for viewing movies. 50 Gb on an optical disk.
And the first thing to come out on it is an Adam Sandler picture.
Our civilization is at its zenith.
And the first thing to come out on it is an Adam Sandler picture.
Our civilization is at its zenith.
02/10: Now they've done it
Wow. Now they’ve done it. The spineless, craven, unprincipled schmucks who voted for the end of habeas corpus have gone and pissed off Garrison Keillor. Take it away, Gar:
Y’know, I’d been trying to keep a little distance from US politics, lately. I get no vote for nor against these assholes. Whaddya gonna do?
But when the A Prairie Home Companion Guy starts sounding like he’s ready to join the mob in the street, hoist a torch, and head for the legislature, I guess it’s past time I restated my position on said matters.
Our enemies have succeeded beyond their wildest dreams. They have made us become like them.Yep. They have. Good point, there, dude.
Y’know, I’d been trying to keep a little distance from US politics, lately. I get no vote for nor against these assholes. Whaddya gonna do?
But when the A Prairie Home Companion Guy starts sounding like he’s ready to join the mob in the street, hoist a torch, and head for the legislature, I guess it’s past time I restated my position on said matters.
01/10: Cultural differences
I’m still around. Just had a busy week. Two concerts, a day in Boston, another helping a sister-in-law move.
The concerts were cool. Tuesday, we saw Yo-Yo Ma and Emmanuel Ax doing a buncha Beethoven. Friday, it was the Red Hot Chili Peppers.
Yeah, you could say there were contrasts. Notes on the differences:
1) When watching Ax and Ma, you are vastly less likely to get sprinkled with beer due to the drunk guys behind you moshing unstably, than you are when watching the Peppers.
2) At the NAC, the loudest noise from the audience will be the annoyingly bitchy octogenarian with an inflated sense of entitlement noisily shushing the seven-year old cello student seated next to you (the noise he supposedly made to earn this put-down is not, as you’d only expect, actually audible). At the Peppers, the guy two seats over with his shirt off wins. He’ll do so, incidentally, well before the band even takes the stage, screaming his head off already. “Premature screaming,” my lovely wife will comment. “Poor guy.” Indeed.
3) At both venues, it is expected the audience shall cheer loudly and lustily to coax the performers out for an encore. But at the Peppers, the encore will be their most popular material (Give It Away and Under the Bridge), saved up especially for just that purpose. Ma and Ax will throw in something short, just to be nice (I didn’t actually recognize it, but it was pretty). Also, at the Peppers, it seems expected the audience (or some of them, at least) shall scream their heads off actually before the show, just to get the band to come out in the first place. See also (2), above.
Okay, actually, that last bit sounds kinda hard on the Peppers. So, to make this clear: they started pretty much on time, and did play their whole two hours, no breaks apart from the gap before that contrived ‘encore’ call. Hardworking band, considering the energy that particular canon presumably takes to crank out.
But yeah, as is now the standard at shows of such scale, there was a blinding light show, huge video monitors wandering around showing the performers up close, and PA volumes which, frankly, seemed more than a bit over the top to this listener, anyway.
Yeah, I like the Peppers. A lot, actually. And yeah, I get that it’s kinda supposed to be loud music. But seriously, what’s the point to amping it so hard it actually mangles the sound? The Peppers’ stuff has that tight, precise, punchy quality, at its best—smashing it against the concrete and your eardrums so it’s all shattered and scattered reverb is just stupid. Lets try, oh, 15 db less, guys, next time, please?
Oh, and the lightshow. It was pretty, sure. Gilding the lily, a bit, too, but hey, yeah, I know, it’s what folk expect.
So I don’t mind so much that there actually is one. But hot white spotlights shining right into the eyes of the audience kinda make it kinda hard to see the show. Not to mention painful.
Just sayin’. Not, I’d think, that you couldn’t figure that out. People, if my watch is glowing brightly enough to notice under the house lights afterward, that’s too many photons for my retinae, too. thanks.
Anyway. Both good fun, in their respective ways.
The concerts were cool. Tuesday, we saw Yo-Yo Ma and Emmanuel Ax doing a buncha Beethoven. Friday, it was the Red Hot Chili Peppers.
Yeah, you could say there were contrasts. Notes on the differences:
1) When watching Ax and Ma, you are vastly less likely to get sprinkled with beer due to the drunk guys behind you moshing unstably, than you are when watching the Peppers.
2) At the NAC, the loudest noise from the audience will be the annoyingly bitchy octogenarian with an inflated sense of entitlement noisily shushing the seven-year old cello student seated next to you (the noise he supposedly made to earn this put-down is not, as you’d only expect, actually audible). At the Peppers, the guy two seats over with his shirt off wins. He’ll do so, incidentally, well before the band even takes the stage, screaming his head off already. “Premature screaming,” my lovely wife will comment. “Poor guy.” Indeed.
3) At both venues, it is expected the audience shall cheer loudly and lustily to coax the performers out for an encore. But at the Peppers, the encore will be their most popular material (Give It Away and Under the Bridge), saved up especially for just that purpose. Ma and Ax will throw in something short, just to be nice (I didn’t actually recognize it, but it was pretty). Also, at the Peppers, it seems expected the audience (or some of them, at least) shall scream their heads off actually before the show, just to get the band to come out in the first place. See also (2), above.
Okay, actually, that last bit sounds kinda hard on the Peppers. So, to make this clear: they started pretty much on time, and did play their whole two hours, no breaks apart from the gap before that contrived ‘encore’ call. Hardworking band, considering the energy that particular canon presumably takes to crank out.
But yeah, as is now the standard at shows of such scale, there was a blinding light show, huge video monitors wandering around showing the performers up close, and PA volumes which, frankly, seemed more than a bit over the top to this listener, anyway.
Yeah, I like the Peppers. A lot, actually. And yeah, I get that it’s kinda supposed to be loud music. But seriously, what’s the point to amping it so hard it actually mangles the sound? The Peppers’ stuff has that tight, precise, punchy quality, at its best—smashing it against the concrete and your eardrums so it’s all shattered and scattered reverb is just stupid. Lets try, oh, 15 db less, guys, next time, please?
Oh, and the lightshow. It was pretty, sure. Gilding the lily, a bit, too, but hey, yeah, I know, it’s what folk expect.
So I don’t mind so much that there actually is one. But hot white spotlights shining right into the eyes of the audience kinda make it kinda hard to see the show. Not to mention painful.
Just sayin’. Not, I’d think, that you couldn’t figure that out. People, if my watch is glowing brightly enough to notice under the house lights afterward, that’s too many photons for my retinae, too. thanks.
Anyway. Both good fun, in their respective ways.
