Bitterness
I have no idea why people think I'm bitter about anything. I'm not. Caffeine is indeed good for you, strange things do indeed happen on the internet, and sources of theobromine might indeed be the bitter fruit of slavery (as yet unresolved even in 2006) — but I, personally am not a bitter person.
Being more sweet than bitter, I apologise to the legions I have led to sin through the rite of coffee-drinking, I apologise for the vagaries of the net which led a veteran blogger to think (and apparently, think for more than a year) that I had borrowed a handle, I apologise for liking chocolate. In my defence, I must say that I've been drinking coffee as an antidote to migraines since 1983, been on the Internet (or its precursor netlets) since 1988, and I've loved chocolate for a very very long time.
I apologise, sincerely and without reservations. Or apologize, for the more pedantic among us. I am especially mortified about the handle incident. These things happen, but it's a little like having two people turn up at the same party in the same outfit and being mistaken for one another. It doesn't help that these two people are very different but have enough overlapping interests to cause confusion.
And I guess I should wear my trousers rolled. In fact, I should dance around in robotic madness (frenzy?) as I watch England saunter off the pitch with a 4-0 lead over Hellas at half-time. I'm not sure if I'm happy or not. But whatever it is, I'm not bitter.
Being more sweet than bitter, I apologise to the legions I have led to sin through the rite of coffee-drinking, I apologise for the vagaries of the net which led a veteran blogger to think (and apparently, think for more than a year) that I had borrowed a handle, I apologise for liking chocolate. In my defence, I must say that I've been drinking coffee as an antidote to migraines since 1983, been on the Internet (or its precursor netlets) since 1988, and I've loved chocolate for a very very long time.
I apologise, sincerely and without reservations. Or apologize, for the more pedantic among us. I am especially mortified about the handle incident. These things happen, but it's a little like having two people turn up at the same party in the same outfit and being mistaken for one another. It doesn't help that these two people are very different but have enough overlapping interests to cause confusion.
And I guess I should wear my trousers rolled. In fact, I should dance around in robotic madness (frenzy?) as I watch England saunter off the pitch with a 4-0 lead over Hellas at half-time. I'm not sure if I'm happy or not. But whatever it is, I'm not bitter.
etched with acid at 8:37:00 pm
2 Comments:
But caffeine can trigger premature uncoupling in the cell cycle, before DNA synthesis is complete (and subsequent genetic integrity checks). It probably doesn't happen unless there's DNA synthesis suppression, but then one probably has an idea why the people drinking more than 5 cups of coffee a day get cancer.
Anyhow, I suppose you could call the worldwide network of the 1980s the Internet ... just that http protocol wasn't invented then. But that means you would have been using the BBS service. Why is it that the older generation either seems to be technophobic ("blogging is for those young'uns!") or techno[sagic?], with no middle ground?
It is also rather freaky googling one's father and seeing his name on Perl RFCs that are 10 years old.
hey sir! you never struck me as a bitter character. :) but the image of you with your trousers rolled up is rather amusing yet disturbing at the same time. but to be truly british, you need the sandals with socks. LOL.
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