...or even "fotobukkit", though 'ph' and 'f' generally don't substitute for one another as well as some might expect.

Still! I can has icon:

In other news, I saw possibly one of the more disturbing things ever a few days back: a fellow victim passenger of public transport armed with a film novelisation edition of Eragon. I'd like to say it was in the hands of someone who should've known better, but (a) I'm not going to start telling people what they can and can't read, and (b) there's always the possibility of morbid curiosity unmoderated by self-preservation.

Still, for the benefit of everyone who reads this, I've helpfully graphed a few select elements of my declining faith in humanity.

Cut for diagrams. Well, a diagram, but it's kind of scary because it mentions Anne Rice and Scientology. )

As you can see, there's still a little of it left; I'm convinced that it can only ever approach zero, and that an absolute lack of faith in humanity is, in fact, the limit. That, or negative faith in humanity scores are, in fact, positive crazy cat lady scores, and then require all manner of complicated doublethink to make up ridiculously elaborate conspiracy theories.

(Theories about, say, how all those young people these days are illegally coming into the front lawn to take jobs away from the hard-working terrorists with their devil music. Whose devil music? All of them, that's who, them with their lack of respect and why I'm sure that one of them flicked water at Mr Fluffykins III Esq. when he was having his morning nap on the windowsill and that just upset him all day.)

In other news, I have a stunning lack of actual, substantive content, but then you probably already noticed that.
Or, OMGWTFSirThursday, whichever post title seems more fun to you.

(Two titles enter! One title leaves!)

So, um, yes. Sir Thursday. I have a copy, and thus far, it is Good.

The other standout point of today came from standing in a queue to pay for Jolt. Someone's child went walking along, screaming his head off as loudly as possible. The child's apparent parents, frantically trying to appease the child*, were less than impressed; the child's apparent mother stalked off in search of items for purchase**, seeming fairly grumpy.

Understandably, perhaps; another few seconds of that would be enough to put me in more or less of a maiming mood.

Immediately ahead of me (and being served at that particular moment), a rather sanctimonious slice of humanity glowered critically, then turned to the checkout operator. Her declaration ran thus:
“I don't get what's wrong with people; if children are that much of a burden, they shouldn't have them.”
On the surface, this sounds almost like a reasonable suggestion, but within it lurks some interesting implications.

The first is the idea that the breeding population seem intent on a kind of passive-agressive mutiny, where reproducing yields some divine right to be above reproach in all situations, provided you OMGwuv every. damn. thing. that teh childrenz can do. Which is to say, apparently, the passive-agressive mutiny targets those parents likely to say "No, Timmy, you can't pull the tiger's ears. If you do, the big fluffywuffytoothy kittycat will eat you, and we'll let it***." This is a Bad Thing.

The second is that it it suggests that there's something wrong with people who really aren't much for the screaming of teh childrenz, which, well, who is? So, her vision of society is one where to be a valid person, you need to (a) reproduce, and (b) have a saintly tolerance for - or masochistic love of - what's been scientifically-proven**** to be the most irritating sound in the world. This, too, is a Bad Thing.

The third is the suggestion that people in service industries are there to be your OMGbestestfriendsever, with whom to gripe, gossip or grumble over everything in the immediate environment. These valiant souls deal with enough first-hand suckiness from people that added passive-aggressive suckiness is likely to shatter the few remaining shards of their faith in humanity. This is a Bad Thing for those elements of humanity deserving of faith from the people who scan their bottles of Jolt and collect appropirate***** payment.

Last is the suggestion that my desire to never, ever reproduce shines the light of civilisation to those who'd like to make useful screaming children as ambulance sirens. I reason this on the grounds that I'm here suggesting childrens' chloroform****** as a means of being able to hear myself think. So, for buying Jolt, I'm suddenly the champion of all that's good and right*******. This made me feel happy for many seconds afterward.

And, um, that's about it. Bring on the footnotes!

*No, really. They tried everything short of chloroform to try to restore peace and quiet to the universe, and failed at every attempt.
**Further to previous footnote, these items may have included bleach and nail-polish remover.
***I'm still somewhat happy about one parent previously mentioned, who told her child about the harsh realities of shoplifting. For those who came late, the incident is recorded here.
****I have no link to verify this, so it'd be shiny if you could supply one. I'd suggest it stands to reason anyway.
******They do, after all, have childrens' everything else. Why not chloroform? We could even give out promotional pens, lunchboxes, and sample pots.
*******There's even a diagram********
Cut for diagram )
********Diagram not to scale.


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