Dear Mr. President

In the last few days many reporters have sounded very disappointed when I told them that I didn't particularly want to ask Barrack Obama a question. Well, gun to my head:


In a pre-dominantly post modern world where perspectives, priorities, psychology and other words with 'p' are different among people, and constantly changing within them, how does a state decide that the barometer it's using is appropriate, without taking the easiest route of majority opinion?


I know, right? FML.

The Mass Media

"Pervez Musharraf's government failed to provide adequate security cover to Benazir Bhutto."
                                                                          - The Dawn, Pakistani newspaper.


How did she die again? Oh right, she was assassinated in a public square.
Idiots.

Just Do It

   What makes life worth living? Now I know this has been done, and redone. I'm also aware of the whole we're here to make a difference and we're here for no reason at all. "Why does it matter?" doesn't faze me either. Well no one's listening, so I might as well rant.

   Routine annoys me. So does non-productivity and a lot of other jazz. However, there are a lot of people out there. Consequently, there are tons of things to do. Too many. Far out. Okay.

   So, I'm not happy. For some reason. Any reason. Normal to average to bizarre to nothing. There will always be someone who feels the same way. Out of eight billion people? For damn sure. Now all I need to do, is find that person. Perhaps even plural. And then do something about it.

No one likes to go it alone. WE will make it happen.