Heart-rending story in the New York Times, The Life and Death of Therapist Bob Bergeron. … but perhaps rending not the way you think. Depending on whether, of course, you are a gay man. I’m not, but the beauty-fade? The loss of looks, beyond one’s control? Like, life? Getting sick? Old? The Creeping Decrepits, my son calls them. He, however, is only eighteen years younger than I, so he’ll get his. (He’s a Good Boy.) (Also a senior geo-tech engineer, so I probably won’t be sending him this post.) Read the rest of this entry »

I never watch the news, but you know what I learned on the news? The fucking humanitarian aid, food and supplies, North Korea receives?  The North Korean people are told that these are tributes. To their Leader. Then, if they’re lucky, I guess they get to eat. Read the rest of this entry »

Jobs had been teaching us to say goodbye to all that for decades — we just didn’t know it.

… in these final years, when the auditorium lights in would go down and the crowd would go wild for Jobs, who increasingly greeted his followers and touted the latest neat, new thing even as he wore the look of a person who was not going into that future with us.

He would be getting off here; we were to proceed without him … Let it go and look ahead was the message all along.
Hank Stueval in the Washington Post

Okay, I’m going to cry some more. Read the rest of this entry »

Should Google Tweak the News? asks the New York Times.

Count me Horrified. Can the Times retract, even, the question?

     ”Should Google play an editorial role in presenting readers with news?” Read the rest of this entry »

What is important to understand is that these same messages about how awful the latest version of Mac OS X is appear each and every time there’s a new upgrade. Thomas Reed, Apple Discussions

An Apple user since 1992, and OS X since Jaguar—I strongly disagree. Read the rest of this entry »

After reading Partial Objects today, an amazing post, all about things like Lacan and the Soul—

All I know is, my soul is a pest. Or whatever that internal thing is that has kept yammering away, lo these many decades. Always with a very clear idea of what is right. Read the rest of this entry »

“Why does time slow down when we fear for our lives?” asks Burkhard Bilger in The New Yorker

Oh, but it doesn’t—or rather, not only then. Not at all. Anything fantastic enough, witnessed, will do the trick.
Read the rest of this entry »

From The Last Time Anyone Was Happy:

I tore out the door the moment I heard the truck. R.T. slowly got out, leaned back against the hood and lit a cigarette like he had all the time in the world. Looking at me through the smoke, in that infuriating way he had.

“You got anything on under that T-shirt?” he said. Read the rest of this entry »