I resent being called a white-collar worker. For me, it conjures up the image of a starchy accountant or lawyer. So, I’ve come up with a better term, for those of us who do “professional” jobs, but happen to work in the creative industry (like designers, or writers, or programmers, or people who work with video or audio).
We’re the black-collar workers.
And lo, The Great Googley One said unto me, “I bring to you a phone, a phone powered by open source, which you will still pay through the nose for, because the telecom companies are greedy, greedy bastards, but nevertheless, a phone that will let you easily add new applications, and share those applications with the world, in a share-y, share-y, love-y, love-y, socialist-y sort of way, and it will not be an iPhone, but it will at least provide a decent alternative, and it will not force you to switch to Ma Bell.”
And thus, I bought said phone, and I will patiently wait until October 22nd, when it appears at my door, as if delivered from the loving hands of The Great Google itself. And in my waiting, I will learn the SDK and develop applications. And it will be good.
I was watching Saturday morning cartoons with my daughter today and came to an interesting realization:
The only functional difference between Tom & Jerry and Itchy & Scratchy is that Tom & Jerry just doesn’t show the blood.
In case you hadn’t heard, the Internet has crashed:
Being both a comic book geek and a father, it is my duty to teach my daughter about all the nuanced characters of the Marvel, DC, and independent multi-verses. She’s already pretty well informed concerning the classics: Superman, Batman, Spiderman. All of them having had major movies since her birth helps my job, that’s for sure.
The Fantastic Four is all new to her, though. Granted, there was the first movie, but she doesn’t remember that (probably for the better). And now that the marketing for the 2nd movie is in full swing, she squeals with joy whenever the trailers come on. I haven’t yet had the opportunity to give her the low down on all the characters and their names yet, so being the observant and creative child she is, upon seeing this Human Torch toy at Burger King:
she named him the only obvious thing an almost-4-year-old child would: Fire Pants.
Coming to HBO — and damn hilarious:
This is what happens when your coworker goes to El Paso.
It’s like His Ubiquitous One just came down and touched me on my ethernet cable… I’m that happy…
Man, forget the future. My real live and my fictional lives are converging at an ever increasing rate. I already have problems separating dreams from reality, and now I’m verging on the possibility of having to get into conversations with myself. That’s just… weird.
I think the universe may be conspiring against me in order to drive me schizophrenic.
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