Pour Me A Diet, You Will

The weather has swung back and forth between humid and hot and freezing cold, so naturally I'm sick as a dog again. I've become so sick of being sick I get a little too grumpy. I had planned to stand in line with some folks for Star Wars on Wednesday, but that seems doubtful.

Last night I watched the 'documentary' Alien Planet on Discovery, which was a very cool hypothetical about our first exploration of an earth like world outside our solar system. The exploration was conducted by a pair of robots, though, very cool well thought out robots that were in some way humanized by their 'faces.' I got to thinking - more than likely, the first alien life we encounter won't be encountered by us at all. It will be found by our robots, and it may even be their robots we find. What if the aliens mistook our robots for the intelligent life? A whole slew of ideas bubbled up in my head.

I also saw a million commercials for Star Wars, ranging from cell phones to Diet Pepsi. Yoda trying to mind trick someone out of their soda is cute I suppose, but he would be the first to tell you that you don't get to be 800 years old drinking that shit.

How To Survive Star Wars: First, covering the excuses.

Finally someone else notices the errie (and unintentional) way the Prequel Trilogy mirrors our present situation. Apparently, the new film brings this home. And from Ben, an article touching on something that's been in the wind a few years now, but still interesting, the rise and fall of empires.

Too many young writers take their lives, and it's happened again, this time to Tristan Egolf, who was 33.

And Waterloo got its casino. As a consequence, we make this offering to our money lusting gods.

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