Infant Propaganda

Can you imagine being in a car with your kids and all they listen to are those repulsive bands you profusely hate and every time you try to change it they throw a manifold of tantrums at you? Wouldn't it be great if your kids share your music genre? Well now you can with a little help of some music CDs and infant propaganda.

"Rockabye Baby!" are lullaby covers of rock bands and popular artists. Among those adapted are Coldplay, U2, the Beatles, Radiohead and Greenday. Now all you have to do is play this every night and they'll surely be... pursuaded to follow in your footsteps. Nothing like brainwashing your children before society does. (***it's for their own good!***)

Thanks to Ms. Madison for the tip.

$199!

I'm having a hard time deciding to be ecstatic or depressed. I should be ecstatic cos $199 is more than reasonable. It's obiously cheaper than most phones on the market but offers a heck of a lot more (I wonder how efficient should a company be to be able to deliver such an advanced technology for what seems to be a fraction of it's total cost). On the other hand, the price of my Touch should have a nosedive right abooouuut.... now.

Only a couple more years till Apple rules the world... and I will be their humble servant. So should you.

The Soap Opera Special - Season 1

1 The apocalyptic news.
Conveyed in a 'by the way' tone sugar coated with an innocent smile that has been clinging on every single hopeful imagination for the past year or so.

2 The crack.
Ever so faint, yet agonizingly loud at the same time. You try to listen to it, but you're listening to silence. You know its fucking real, though. Every fucking crack on your soul.

3 The spontaneous combustion.
You start feeling warm and nothing else. That cold glass you're holding, not a single chill. Then a surge of heat comes in. You can feel it inside. You want it to go away. You beg it to go away. Fat chance, asshole. The heat is now your new best friend, better get used to it.

4 The rubbing. (As in rubbing it in...)
The news, the crack, the heat, those are just hors d'oeuvres, my friend. Then the stories sweeps in... narrated, once again with the brilliantly concealed iniquitous smile. Dear God, those stories. A tale worthy of praises and awards ('mesmerizing and gripping' - The Times). No details left unsaid. Every single word slices and dices their way through your soul (or what's left of it). You wonder how could a person be so oblivious.

5 The endorsement.
Here comes the fun part. You are in f-u-c-k-i-n-g p-a-i-n but guess what, you still manage to give her your best smile. You give your approval. You endorse her newfound Romeo. Even after you arrived home later that night, the "I'm happy as long as you're happy" bullshit slips out your mouth, leaving a painful stabbing feeling in your gut. The classic cliffhanger for a soap opera, the nastiest sensation crafted by God.

To think that you came all the way down there with a bad case of the flu, a bag full of hopes and a fully functioning heart. Yes, Ms. Morissette, it is Ironic. Yes Mr. Boyd, it is a Sick Sad Little World. Cheers, Aristotle. May you rest in peace. Cue 'What a Wonderful World' and fade out.

Note:
Some of you will understand, some of you won't. If you don't understand, be grateful. If you do, hang in there. Somebody someday will stop all this nonsense.