I will admit: There are times when it would be nice to have a Twitter account just so that I could fire off tiny missive missiles about things that annoy me (or, flip side, delight me, but that happens all too rarely these days).
And by “annoy” I mean: Really. Piss. Me. Off. Another sign of the times is that mere annoyance barely registers anymore. What with that evil orange toad illegally squatting in the Oblong Office, I live mostly in a state of constant rage.
So, a brief angry pause from streaming video for some spleen venting…
The 1991 movie Grand Canyon, which
Those of you who are bloggers, I don’t know how much you look through your Spam Comments list. I delete spam without looking at it too much. But you must go to the list to click the button, so you can’t avoid seeing some of it. Sometimes there’s a new twist on the basic trick: “I’m a real comment! No, really, I am!! Please let me through!!!”











