I want this so badly.

Someone needs to make a website. Someone needs to make a nonprofit with a website. Someone needs to make a nonprofit called, "The Why Is It Terrible Institute" with a website called, "Why Is It Terrible" (might I recommend wiit.org). This website will be a curated list of what the institute can dig up on every business, so when a consumer is considering spending his or her money somewhere, she or he can jump on and see which businesses are the least harmful to the world.

The website would log businesses that have been searched for, and research any new ones, and also users could submit news stories or things they've heard, but the Institute would have to verify everything, because this will be a source of valuable information, not libel.

Seriously, do this.

Here is a song for your indie rock band.

"I Only Have Eyes for (John) Woo".
It should mention Face/Off.

In the shadows of Shareware.

I have decided that the reason I am inclined to software piracy is that I was raised in the era of Shareware. I hear it still exists, but not in the form it did as I was a budding computer user when there would be dudes at expos and little boxes at Radio Shack and even 4.25x11 newsprint catalogs mailed to your house selling one or three 3.5" floppies attached together with a cardboard band carrying an entire game for a dollar fifty. You could even get them free from bbs's, but that, I thought, lacked the charm.

Some of my dearest computer related memories are Shareware. Hexxagon. Blake Stone. Jazz Jackrabbit. Epic Pinball. Castle of the Winds.

Shirts say Stantz.

I was just walking around Target hoping they'd have Halloween shirts (which I did not find). They always have a rack of shirts with things they think I ought to be nostalgic for printed on them, and one of the options I saw today was Ghostbusters uniforms on a shirt, but there is only one design, and it says "Stantz" on the name tag. It seems weird that they'd decide which Ghostbuster you can be.

Good luck.

Perhaps this is a bit late in life, but I just realized for the first time that an appropriate synonym for "ass-hole" would be "burro burrow".

Use that for something productive.

Purely scientific observations on myself.

Frequently I am unemployed. At the moment I am at the end of a two-week period of waiting for a job I just got to start, so for the last several days I have been just floating, trying to not spend the very little money I have. Mostly I am in or walking around near the condo. My circadian rhythm has been shifting, and I have been letting it, I think, for science and curiosity and lack of deterrent. I seem to be going to sleep and, consequently, waking up between half an hour and forty-five minutes later each day.

At first I thought I was cycling. My rhythm seems to be slightly longer than the earth/sun's, so I figured I would drift out of synch with the world and then, given enough time, back in and through again. I am not given enough time, however, and am just sliding into the nighttime, which makes me think that I have no reason to assume that my rhythm is pushing me around and not just shifting me into another place. Perhaps I'm naturally drifting into the dark and quiet hours, since they seem to be when I am the most comfortable walking around. Perhaps I'm just disappearing from the daytime world.

A new thought occurs to me, though. When I am awake, I am busy. I am working on projects, I am doing crosswords, I am reading, I am watching a movie, I am cooking, I am thinking hard while out on a walk, I am exercising. When I am asleep, I am busy. I am dreaming of walking and thinking and creeping and peeking and leaping. It is that one long twilight moment, when I have ceased to fidget and figure, when I am waiting for sleep to take me, that I am lonely. It is the only part of the day where I can feel how alone I am. Maybe I am just putting that moment off every day. Just pushing it back, and that's causing the drift.

I would like to propose.

I would like to propose a Saw prequal. It would be the story of some total jerk's battle with cancer.

And lo.

Letting nostalgia beat out practicality is an act of privilege.