You remind me of the Siberian hunting spider, which adopts a highly convincing limp in three of its eight legs in order to attract its main prey, the so-called Samaritan squirrel, which takes pity on the spider, and then the spider jumps on it and injects the paralyzing venom, while the squirrel remains bafflingly philosophical about the whole thing. Not to be confused with the Ukrainian hunting spider, which actually has got a limp and is, as such, completely harmless, and a little bit bitter about the whole thing.

Of course, uh, the universe is gradually slowing down and, uh, will eventually collapse inwardly on itself, according to the laws of entropy when all it's thermal and mechanical functions fail, thus rendering all human endeavors ultimately pointless. Just to put the gig in some sort of context.

I tend to go through periods worrying, "Where am I going, I can't see a way out of this," and it becomes quite stressful. But sometimes you have to take a bet on yourself.

This was my attempt to deter cold callers: "There's no past, there's no future, just one pulsating present... Please leave your message after the tone."

How many amoebas does it take to screw in a light bulb? One, no two! No four! ...no eight!

"God save our gracious Queen": Why would we invoke a non-specific deity to bail out these unelected spongers?

I would never condone the burning of a Dan Brown novel, much though I loathe and detest his work. Well, I say work, you know, words, randomly arranged to form millions of dollars... I'm not bitter at all.