On Taking Deep Breaths

I will not get medieval on someone’s ass.
I will not get medieval on someone’s ass.
I will not get medieval on someone’s ass.

I am tired of people who think Doctor Who is a series about Rose. Excuse me, but Doctor Who survived a long damn time before Rose Tyler, and it’s going to survive a long damn time now that she’s gone.

I am annoyed with people who think last night’s House was the best damn hour of television ever. Excuse me, but the final five minutes was a giant fucking reset button, and House didn’t “win,” he just got lucky in not losing everything he should have lost for being a bone-headed jerk. And for what it’s worth, Tritter was just doing his fucking job. Maybe a little more vigorously than he should have, but let’s be honest — Gregory House gave him cause.

But instead of dwelling on these things that will only make me angry, I will instead think of the comet I saw at sunset. Yes, the comet. I don’t know what it’s name is — it reaches perihelion in the next day or two, and I saw it with the naked eye. Seeing that made me feel serene. The comet.

I think Chimpy’s on at nine, to blabber to the nation. What a fucking loon.

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