"You cowardly Swede!"

When Sweden are playing England in the European championships in football there are few things that I need to keep in mind.
1) My English friends assume I cheer for Sweden.
2) When Sweden wins I realise I did secretly cheer for them.
3) The bed is now "English territory" and I'm not welcome there.

During this championship I've also realised something else. It's incredibly hard for me to describe which country I cheer for. I mean, I'd love for Denmark to win, but wouldn't it be fun if the Republic of Ireland won? (Of course, they won't now since they're technically out, but still.) I don't cheer for Sweden, mostly because it is Sweden, but if we should win then I'm super excited. (I almost got beaten up by my friends in 2002 for not cheering for Sweden.) I don't mind if Germany wins because they're playing like a well-oiled machine and they're very fun to watch. Nor do I mind if Poland or Ukraine win. Hrm, maybe it'd be easier to say that I don't want England, France or Spain to win. Then again, I like Spain, technically. Always have done. Hrm.

To clearify this: I've been a supporter of Holland since 2000. (That's 12 years in case you can't count.) In the beginning it was because they had some really cute players, now I suspect it's mainly because they play in orange. It's such an underestimated colour, orange. 

I guess it's fair to say that I like the teams who don't have a bunch of over-payed pansies playing. The teams who understand that it's not a one-man-show, it's actually a team sport and it needs a team effort. Break them down and shape them into pieces of lego. Make them into one, mold them. Give them some cake and make them relax and I promise you that if you won't win, well then at least you had some nice cake.

May the best man win...

The European championships in football starts today. Yes, that's "football" and not "soccer" for two main reasons. 1) It's played with the feet. 2) "Soccer" sounds like "socker" which is Swedish for "sugar" and they're not really playing for sugar now, are they?

This year I've decided to place a bet on the winner. Just for fun. Me and Mr. English decided to go for a team each and then I sort of had to get my sister and my parents involved for no real reason what so ever. My initial thing was to go for Germany, but my sister decided to bet on that one. My dad was going for them aswell, but then decided on Spain. I figured that if I let my mother in she will bet on something like Greece because she "likes the country", but she went for France. Mr. English felt a bit patriotic so he's betting on England because "they're hungry for it". Yea... such a great reason really. I'm betting on Holland myself (yes, that's "Holland" and not "the Netherlands" - deal with it). Mostly because I think they have an honest chance, although I really hope Denmark kicks their arse in the opening match.

Sweden? Oh please. If I'd bet on Sweden I might as well take up a lighter and burn the money straight away - it'd save me the trouble of going to the shop to place the bet. Like I told my mother on the phone: "It's quite obvious who the patriot is here - it sure as hell ain't any of us!".

Tribute to nonsense

It's hard to write things when you have it in your head that everything you write is completely useless. That you're quite average and the things you put down on paper (well sort of) is incredibly uninteresting to anyone but yourself. It sort of puts a filter over everything you want to write and you end up with nothing at all. Maybe the voice is right. Maybe my stuff is completely mundane and average and boring. It might always be useless. Maybe there's never a chance that I'll be an author. 

You know what? I don't think I wanna listen to that voice anymore. It bores me.
I think that from now on it will be green shoes with bowties and cupcakes all around!

Flammable

There is something terribly addicting about checking flights and hotels. I don't really know why, but I always enjoy dreaming about going to different destinations and planning trips with detail after detail after detail. When it comes to taking the actual trip I always enjoy it. The huffing and puffing when checking in, the sighing in the queue to the security check, the prodding at the security check. (Don't tell the guard that as far as you know you didn't have any knives on you this morning, for some reason they don't appreciate that.) I enjoy watching people pass by as I'm sitting in the lounge waiting for my flight to come in and I like to fly in a can packed like a sardin. Although I have a habit of wanting to discuss things like "if we should crash now I will feel satisfied with my life" and "isn't it a wonder that something made of metall, such as this plane, can stay in the air?" while being in the air. Hrm, maybe this is why Mr. English doesn't like to fly. Maybe I don't help his fear when I discuss the magics of aerodynamics...? I should probably smuggle some sleeping pills into his drink if we go somewhere by flight. Or... I could use a sledgehammer. It's easier to get one than coming over some horse tranquilizer.

No connection found.

Okay, so the winner of Eurovision Song Contest 2012 was Sweden and their contestant Loren with "Euphoria". However, after her win of the Swedish competition she was asked if she felt euphoric. Her answer was "I don't know what euphoric means". When the word was being described to her she said "I don't think I've ever felt that way in my life." Yea... Sometimes I just think that artists should just sing their song and then just shut the fuck up. No one cares what you think, we just wanna hear your music and then go and eat.

flash of pain

There's something incredibly unsatisfying about having a hole in your sock. For some reason it makes me feel incomplete and less of a person. Then again, maybe that's just because my foot is getting a bit cold. I really can't stand socks with holes in them. I know that it's a stupid problem, but it drives me crazy. It's like having a blister at the inside of your lip - you just want it to go away, but for some reason you're there touching it all the bloody same. Don't get me wrong, holes are very practical - great to push people into - but what my lovely black socks with a santa on (yes, a santa, I don't discriminate after season) don't need right now is a heel poking through them.

Flowerpetals.

I feel that it's happening. That thing which Granpa Simpson warned Homer about. The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced that I'm there.

I used to be with it, 

but then they changed what 'it' was. 

Now, what I'm with isn't it, 

and what's 'it' seems weird and scary.

/Abraham Simpson

This is exactly how I feel every time I turn on the radio. To quote Queen - it's all "radio gaga" these days. It all sounds the same and I keep wondering how one artist can differ from another artist.  Then I think back to when I was a teenager and suddenly it all makes sense. Because artists where different. Of course they were. Kylie Minogue, Madonna, Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera were all different. It's funny how the brain works - when I consider this a bit more I realise that every generation has their thing. It's been said a hundred times, but when I look at my mother as I tell her that "you must hear this song!" and she just shrugs it all makes sense. Although I assume that working in a record store as young did do its thing to ruin her and her relationship with music forever. Then again, I know that the music of my parents' generation was a pain for their parents so I can only assume it has always been this way. We're just not meant to understand the younger generation.

I don't listen to the radio if I can avoid it, which I usually can. It's different if I go abroad - for some reason that's more okay. Maybe it's because I don't mind the silly chatter or because every country take a different view on music. Maybe it's just because it's different. Is that why some songs are so good these days? Because the rest just disappear in the background noise of highpitched wails, high school rock and a dull rapper? I can't tell them apart and I guess I don't really want to, but all those rappers with halfnaked women who sang one chorus line in the beginning of the 1990's I remember. Those horrible suits and awkward dance moves that no normal person can every hope to try. Every now and then when I'm really bored I like to imagine how the future turned out for these people. "Him? Oh, he works as a gardener and the background chick? She's an accountant. I hear she does taxes now."

What do you think Beethoven would say if he could hear his songs on a mobile phone?

Not much, the guy would be over 242 years old and deaf.

fine tuning

Every now and then the Swedish media likes to report on the crime in the "underworld". It's gangsters and gangs and murders and people die and bad stuff is going on. Every time I read about the "underworld" I think two things.

1) Mafia. I don't know why, but I guess the mafia has to be the ultimate underworld-thing.

2) Sewers. I always see these mafia-people sitting down in the sewers in their fancy suits and plotting murder with some old guy saying "I'm very disappointed in you, Vigo".

A part of me would really like to see this underworld, but I don't think I'd do well in sewers. It stinks too much and my shoes might get dirty.

Testify!

There's something special about Easter. It's not really widely celebrated in Sweden anymore other than as another reason to go out and drink (but which holiday isn't at this point?), but I've always enjoyed it. As a child I used to paint eggs and make decorations with my family and I sucked at it. I didn't have the patience to glue a tiny nose onto something that was meant to look like a bunny and my eggs always ended up having one colour with a line around them in another colour. All the eggs were still praised of course and in the end they were all eaten so I guess it didn't really matter much if they were pretty or not. It's the thought that counts. I think that's the main thing about Easter this day, it's less about the killing of Jesus Christ and more about the thought of being together and spending time with the family. 

Personally I always take some time to think back on what happened to Jésus and thank him for taking it upon him to soak up my sins. Mostly because if he hadn't, then I wouldn't get five days of work. Good going there, Jebus and thank you.

Lie a waste.

Sometimes I think back and realise that I must have been a very boring child. Sure, there's the whole story with how I abused my sister, but you know, when I was older. I remember that the first time I ever drew on a notebook for school was when I was 13. I never ran with scissors (as far as I know), I never coloured my hair and I always phoned home (ET phone home) when I'd stay over at a friend's house or when I was going to be late. I remember that my most rebellious act was flat-ironing my hair. Hazaa.

The worst part is that I can't really think of anything rebellious I've done since I grew up. Maybe question a teacher or sing really loud when my friends tell me not to. I'd love to say that "I protested against this..." and "I worked hard against that...", but if truth be told, I can't. Not without lying. I don't know why, but for some reasons I just don't believe in massive protests against things. I see it more as an inconvenience than anything else. Maybe that's why I don't do it. Maybe that's why I'm not rebellious - I just don't care enough. Or maybe I just don't see how it can make a difference when people smash windows and walk with big signs saying "we hate war".

I know that I've said this before, but I think that good saying are worth repeating. People should eat more cake. You try to have a fight with a person who just had a tasty cake and see how well it goes.

bubbletrees

It's very strange to read old mails and letters and get a glimpse into a past that you'd forgotten or just don't think about very much anymore. It almost feels like you're intruding into something that you weren't meant to see. Like you stumbled upon two people talking and overheard their secret.

I was looking for a specific e-mail today and came across this:

Let the horns be blown,
let the mead run free.
Let the old ways be past
and let us drink to this day.

Let the true way be shown,
come and sit here with me
and please do move fast
because I want you to stay.

I don't know why, but for some reason it makes me want to put on a big helmet with horns and join a massive feast in a big house.

Featherdusters

How can you tell if your brain is turning into mush? It is even possible to know before it's too late to stop the process? Can the brain get "dumber" over the years? Less sharp, less quick, more prone to just going "duuuh... I dunno..."? Is this the reason to the very strange behaviour we sometimes see in our parents - that their brains just aren't functioning as well as they once did? It's a bit scary to think about it, that sometime in the future my children will wonder if my brain is having trouble connecting. I will call them and ask about this new electrical device which isn't functioning the way the manual says it should. Yes, I have turned it on. What do you mean 'light'? There's no light there. I'm telling you, there's no light! Oh... it's underneath it... No, no it's not turned on. Thanks! Then I will hang up and try again. It has to work. Of course it will work. It's not working. Yes, I turned it on. What do you mean 'plugged in'? And so it will continue until the end of my days. I know, because I have these conversations with my parents on a daily basis.

Me: What's the problem with the laptop?
Dad: It's not working.
Me: Are you sure? It was working fine when I had it.
Dad: I get a welcome screen where I'm meant to put in a password, but when I type all I see are dots.
Me: Dad, it's meant to be that way - it's a safety thing if someone should look over your shoulder.
Dad: Oh, okay. Thanks!

I believe that anyone who work in customer support should be forced to work a day with their parents and teach them about computers. There is absolutely nothing more frustrating than explaining things over and over, but the joy when it works without any questions is lovely. Oh, I feel sorry for my future children... oh, so sorry...

Hidden pawprints!

There are things you can learn from going outside. Like how nice the sunlight feels after a day inside. Or how wonderful it can be when the world is all quiet around you. Not to mention how much you can learn from watching TV-shows. You'd be surprised over the amount of information hidden in those silly tv-programs. Of course, now I don't mean the really obvious stuff like watching a cooking show and finding out how to make a proper soup or how to fix a car. You see, lately I've been watching Charmed. It used to be better ten years ago, but it's entertaining enough to keep my interest. Some flashy lights here, a boom there. Not to mention all the magic and ah, how I like the magic.
Anyway, what this show has taught me is that if you work at the top of a company and wear a proper suit (or just look well dressed in general) then you're probably bad. As in devilishly bad. If you choose to wear a more bohemian style or a more miss-matched outfit, then you're probably incredibly good. One with the nature. Relaxed. That sort of thing. That does mean that you cannot wear a bra. Only bad people wear bras because only bad people care about how clothes fit.
This leads me onto another subject that I might've touched before, but it deserves to be brought to light again. Green mist. In Disneymovies (every single one I can think of and believe me - I can think of many) it's always bad. Maleficent in Sleeping Beauty appears in a puff of green smoke. The bad guys in The Black Cauldron give off a nasty, greenish glow and of course, poison has the colour of green.

So what have we learned today? If you want to be good you go commando, lay off the suit and don't aspire to anything. If you want to be bad you dress properly, make sure you can always get out a puff of green smoke for effect and you tell those dirty hippies to start wearing underwear!

eis bitte

Apparently I have "problems with grammar". Not problems meaning that I find it hard, but problems in terms of having to be absolutely perfect. Maybe it's just me, but I find that if I do write something, I want it to be as good as it can possibly be. I don't want the "meaning to come across anyway", I don't want people to "know what I mean", I want it to be clear. Yes, a lot of the things I write don't make sense, but if nothing else they're usually grammatically correct.
Okay, so maybe I have a teeny, tiny, little problem. It bugs me when people write "your" instead of "you are". It annoys me when they write "there" instead of "their" or "they're". It bugs me when people speak incorrectly and think that they are correct. It doesn't bug me when people use the wrong forms if I know that they can use the correct ones and do so.

I think I need help.

"Nazan mourns the death of Nazan."

When I was a child me and my friends used to go ice skating with down by the sea close to where I lived. I never referred to it as "sea" though, always "the lake". Don't ask me why, it was just one of those things and no, it was not a lake, it was the sea between Sweden and Denmark which, of course, is a rather small sea but a sea nonetheless. I always wore a helmet (like a good girl) and when we were tired of ice skating we used to take a break and drink hot chocolate while sitting on some padded thing to keep the cold off. I have no idea what this padded thing is in English, but in Swedish it's "sittunderlag" which I guess can be translated into "sitting underlay". Basically, put it on the ground and plant your ass on it. Then stay. Stay...
When I think back on it I realise that nature really is taking a toll for the worse. I remember one winter when the ice was a decimeter thick. That's quite a lot for being so far south (up north they drive cars across the lakes, I know, it's craziness). I don't think it's ever been that thick again, but I haven't really dared to try it either. There's something weird about growing up and realising again and again that "maybe it's not safe" and thus not wanting to do it. It's like buying your first insurance and going over different options. A part of you just dies of shame there and then. "What happened to you? You used to be cool." I guess that's why adults who do really weird things to feel alive again are just looked at as escaped mental patients by their children. It's not the same, you know. No matter if the children do the exact same thing or not, it's just not the same if their parents do it.
A part of me wants to be "the cool and hip mom". Another part wants to be the mother who always has a fresh batch of cookies from the oven or can whip up muffins in a heartbeat because the kids would love some zucchini/apple/banana/chocolatechip-stuff. A third part is looking at the workaholic and thinks "hrm, that might be me". One thing I know for sure though and that is that no matter what I'll do I will end up being embarassing. No matter how much I try not to, I will make my children wish I never had done that thing, whatever it is. That's why I've decided to be a really embarassing mother. Hug them extra long in front of their friends. Ask them if they want some cookies and soda when they bring their friends over. You know, all those things that are just... oh, my god, so embarassing! 'Cause you know what, if nothing else - at least I want to get some fun out of it!

Cangaroo jumps

Blue bloods. Kings and Queens. Leaders. The concept of royalty is a bit strange. I mean, it's a replica from a time when people who got bored with the King served him poisoned soup and then gathered a bunch of friends and stormed the castle. It would never happen today. Or rather, we just don't care enough. Maybe it has something to do with decreasing the influence the royalties have on our everyday life or maybe it's because they're just not that special anymore. Somehow they've been dragged off their pedestals and thrown inte the real world. A world of starvation, telephone bills and newspapers which write about the latest celebrity dog. We know that the royalties go to the toilet, cook noodles late at night when they're hungry and too lazy to call the kitchen, pick up the poo after their dogs every once in a while. It's nice to have it that way. To not feel that they're "above us" and that their word is law. Of course, they have immunity for their crimes and I think that one guy who threw a cake in the Swedish King's face got arrested, but at least he wouldn't have to be scared of a death penalty.

As a complete sidenote I have to bring up the spin articles can take once they're in print. The Swedish media said that the cake was no big deal and quoted the King with "well, it comes with the job". BBC said that it was treason and that the Queen helped the SÄPO (säkerhetspolisen = secret police) take the guy down and of course CNN also jumped on the treason-wagon. Maybe it's a Swedish thing, you know. This whole "not being that bothered".
Someone trying to be insulting: "Your sister is a whore!"
Swedish person: "Oh, I can see you've met her. Did you get along well?"

Anyway, back to the royalties. The Swedish Crown Princess had her first baby a few days ago. She and her man-from-the-commons-prince-dude got it on quickly and do you know what my first thought was? "Oh good, now the royal line is secured for a few more years." Seriously, that thought went through my head.
It's a bit silly, isn't it? In a world so very "equal" like ours - well depending on where you are of course - we still wait for them to get it on and produce offspring. All the other things they do don't really matter all that much in the long run if they run dry down there. It makes me feel sorry for Kate Middleton who married Prince William of England. Not only does she have Prince Charles for a father-in-law, she also knows that if she produces a child and it's a boy it'll be prone to baldness before the age of 30, big ears, reddish complexion and an uncle who thinks that going to a masquerade party with the theme "command and conquer" in a nazi-outfit is a good idea. You gotta hand it to the girl - that takes stomach. So what if she can't squeeze out a tiny one? Well, she'll be frowned upon of course. People will say that they "knew it all along" and that "she just didn't have it in her - you could see it". They of course she'll be shunned. Said to be the one who brought the house down. The throne? It will pass to Prince Harry and who knows? Maybe England will become a massive empire once again - if nothing else, Harry knows how it's done.

dry your eyes

There's a new meaning with my life. It was like God talking directly to me and telling me what I need to do before I die. I need to captain a spaceship. A big spaceship. Preferably a wooden ship with sails made to fly in space with a dome over to maintain breathable air. I could steal the pirate look with a big shirt with frilly arms, a black pair of pants and a fancy pair of boots. Oh, and of course, the hat. With the massive feather. Hrm, do pirates have feathers or is that just musketeers? Oh well, it's my ship so I can dress how I want. Feathers all around! Green of course.
The main reason I need a ship is because I would love to say that "this is my vessel". Just taste the word. "Vessel". I mean, how often do we use it in our daily speech? "Excuse me, good sir, but I have to withdraw to my vessel now - I am late for tea with the Queen, see." Ah, Brits, what would the world ever do without you?

It's a shame that I have my fear of space. That does complicate things a bit. Not a lot, but a little bit. I mean, I could fly my vessel (well not me, obviously, someone who's a lower rank) and stay just beneath the atmosphere, but I think that would make it more of an "airship" and less of a "spaceship". Not that an "airship" is a bad thing, but it just doesn't have the same power as "spaceship". It sort of sounds like "hot air baloon" which isn't at all what I'm going for. Hrm, this seems to get more and more complicated. I'll get back to you with new information as soon as I've acquired some.

apart

Sometimes when I'm really bored I amuse myself with thinking "what if". It usually starts with "what if I was insanely rich" and "what if I was flying away", but every now and then it moves onto "what if a male dog is feeling bad the day after because he humped a female the day before". "Oh, no, why did I do that? Now she has to think that I'm some sort of pervert. Ah, why didn't I just smell her bum?"
Yesterday me and Mr. English discussed the pros of working with plants instead of people.
"There's no aftermath if a plant should die. I can just chuck it in the bin and I don't have to face an inquiry from the plant's relatives wondering why I did what I did. It's like being a doctor but without all the ethics. I mean, if I graft a branch of an appletree onto something and check the result, no one will be angry. Should I do that with a human being though... Also, plants don't talk back, they don't tell you what they think is wrong with them because they read it online and it has to be that incredibly rare disease which has been extinct for 500 years."
It's a bit strange when you think about it really and apply human thoughts to something that is considered "less human", but it sure doesn't take the fun away. At least not in my opinion and isn't that what counts really?

firework

Sometimes I think about having children. Someone who's a mini version of me (may it be boy or girl) and who can spread my wisdom across the world. Then sometimes I realise that maybe I wouldn't be the best mother in the world. I mean, a child can have a few drops of alcohol before boarding a plane right? To make it fall asleep?

I'm supposed to have been a horrible child. After what I've heard I poked my sister in the eyes until they started bleeding. Another story talks about how I used to walk after her and sit on her back when I was three and she was one. It's a wonder that my parents didn't beat the living crap out of me. It's a miracle that my sister speaks to me.

Maybe I'll just carry the kids for nine months and then pop them out and let Mr. English deal with them while I work. Or we could just hire a babysitter. Ah, decisions, decisions... It's probably a good thing that I'm not having kids right now. Those poor children...

"'Do you know what's awfully funny? A man dressed as a woman.' ' Rather.'"

Okay, let's get one thing straight here. Some country in the world, let's call it "X", wants a law within the country that stops illegal downloading and file sharing. So far so good. Now, what's also a part of this law is the right to stop this downloading even if it takes part in country "Y". This is something that I don't really understand. X and Y aren't the best of friends so I can't really see why Y should be okay with X just walking all over it's new fancy garden and taking a crap among the plants. I sure as hell wouldn't be okay with that. Would you? No, of course you wouldn't. You'd take out the big hose and water the plants!
It's a bit silly really. I mean, yes, the big companies do lose money when people prefer to download an album instead of paying copious amounts of money for a plastic cover with a paper cutout. The artist however, does not. Not marginally anyway. The marketing recieved via file sharing widely goes above any profits for record sales. Let me give you an example.
A struggling artist (struggling as in working really hard to move from the couch to the garage where the recording equipment is) need something really special to be signed by a record company. Whether it's looks, voice, sound or something else. If the music is special enough but the artist isn't that can always be fixed. Make-overs. Do-overs. Miracles. The record company owns the songs and the artist brand. The artist owns... his brain?

Now, let's talk file sharing.
Our hard working artist decided to just skip the whole record company deal. He likes to keep the way he looks and he's pretty fond of his, at least in his own opinion, special sound. Instead he decides to put his song up on his tiny profile on myspace and goes to make some food. When he's finished dinner he returns to the tiny profile and noticed that ten people from various parts of the world really enjoyed the strings/synths/wail/composion/lyrics. The artist humbly thanks them and goes to bed. Tomorrow he will have 30 new posts admiring his music. In two weeks 400 people have listened to the songs. One of these people is dating a guy whose cousin's best friend works in marketing. Our artist recieves a mail with a request for a meeting to discuss possible business deals for a tv-show. The tv-show gets massive ratings and the music is even more widely spread. Companies want the face of the artist for this or that product and soon it's time for the first live performance. It becomes sold out and is a huge success and the artist, who doesn't have to share his profit or time with a record company, makes a lot of money. Oh, the albums? They're all released for free online.

To stop file sharing is to stop the basics of the Internet and the World Wide Web. It's created to share information between people.

"A network of such [computers], connected to one another by wide-band communication lines [which provided] the functions of present-day libraries together with anticipated advances in information storage and retrieval and [other] symbiotic functions."
—J.C.R. Licklider

The quote is from a man who had a vision and he mentions how the connected computers work as libraries - allowing you to search information. Imagine of that was taken away from you. Imagine turning on your computer without it connecting to anything but you. Imagine going into a library without books.

Sparkling glass

According to Danish scientists you increase the chance of killing your fetus by 50% if you drink alcohol twice a week. The chance is doubled if you drink it four times a week (when being pregnant obviously). Wouldn't it have been easier to say that you have a 100% chance of a miscarriage if you sip some wine four times a week?
90 000 pregnant women (I assume it's women, it wasn't actually specified) took part in the study which was performed in Denmark. There are about 5,5 million people in Denmark so from this I can only conclude that they're not really all that keen to reproduce.

This study is good news for everyone who's feeling a bit cheap at the moment though. Four drinks are cheaper than a pregnancy test and an abortion. And if you live in a country where abortion isn't legal, well then I've just solved your problem. Congratulations!

Big Brother

CENSORED

Peppercans

A guy called Dave bought an n-control
it was expected in December but no such roll.
Dave mailed a PR-company for information
but it held no captivation,
all he got were cryptic texts
and they all left him completely perplexed.

Dave continued his quest for more
and decided to let other companies through his door.
He opened it for Mike Krahulik of Penny Arcade
and then he stepped into the shade
and let the mystery unravel.

The word began to travel,
and Paul Christoforo, Mr. PR-man
made sure that he got himself a lifetime ban
from the Penny Arcade Expo run by Mr. Mike
after having dug himself deeper and deeper into his dike.

So think of this the next time someone gets you down
and you feel that all you want to do is frown.
I might not know a thing
but at least it's more than Ocean Marketing.

(For more information about this insane spectacle, check out http://venturebeat.com/2011/12/27/ocean-marketing-how-to-self-destruct-your-company-with-just-a-few-measly-emails/.)

Allez, allez!

Lately there's been a question that I've been asking myself more than any other question. I feel that quite a large part of my existance depends on the answer and I'm still not sure I want to know. I mean, do we really want to know the answer to the ultimate question? Can we be absolutely sure they wouldn't depress the hell out of us? Of course we can't, we can't be sure of anything, but that's not the point or the answer to the question. The question is: What happened to good TV? Do you know? Because I really don't. I've thought about it and it all seems to be reruns or remakes. Have everything already been done or are people just running out of ideas? If they are, allow me to share some.

The Next Top Mozart: twenty people who all think they have what it takes to pull off the wig, have bad teeth and wear tights.
America's next top porn star on ice: who can do a killer-throw without being a killer?
Atlantis: we all know what happened, but we've never seen it in HD!
Hobo Hunting: The winner wins shelter for the winter, the losers win a better life.

At the moment Gladiators is on TV. I don't think I've seen this show in years. Somehow it used to be cooler back then. You know, when all the gladiators were older than you were and they seemed so BIG! Now it just seems rather sad. I mean, it's not even historically correct. The gladiators never chased anyone but each other. How did it come to this? How did we end up pissing on the Roman heritage without so much as a whip? Because if there's one thing that would make this show a little less pathetic and a little more fun, it'd be a whip.