Well, no, I'm not happy for anyone to die. But I'd wish certain kinds of lives on people even less than death and what I get some pleasure from is that Kinkade apparently drank himself to death and that he was a miserable bastard. It's bad enough when someone cynically exploits the shallow, overriding consumerist instincts that have been cultivated in this culture. It's worse when they're disgustingly happy. If there are afterlives suited to individuals, I hope Kinkade has to spend eternity in one of his two bit, faux Disney cottages.
On the other hand, if you'd like to express support for my art and honest depravity, my friend Amee yesterday put online a Facebook fansite for my work. Feel free to facelike it or whatever it is one does via Facebook.
I was reluctant to watch the second season Star Trek episode "Metamorphosis" for some reason. Maybe it was because it was written by Gene L. Coon, most of whose work from season one I didn't like, maybe it was because I think it's the Star Trek episode I've seen the most. Back in the 90s, in my imprudent Trekkie youth, for whatever reason this episode tended to get replayed a lot.
I guess it was a combination of low expectations and the fact that I've changed so much as a person in the last decade that I enjoyed it as much as I did. There's a sweetness to Cochrane's relationship with the Companion in the way both seem to be so innocent about the nature of their relationship. Though Kirk and McCoy smugly assuming the two are lovers from the fact that the Companion is seemingly female was a little silly.
There is some encouragingly progressive subtext to the story, as when Cochrane expresses disgust for the idea of a relationship between himself and the Companion and old fashioned McCoy of all people says, "There's nothing disgusting about it. It's just another life form, that's all. You get used to those things."
This takes some of the edge off of an earlier moment when Kirk tells Cochrane that the "idea of male and female are universal constants." Yeah, tell that to a bacteria. Though maybe that's just Kirk not being psychologically equipped to contemplate a civilisation where he can't get pussy.
Twitter Sonnet #374
Aries strippers produce many sweaters.
Soon Roo cooks the wool in a loomless room.
Squished Squirt cans recall their cola betters.
The limes lingered in time for lemon doom.
Zigzag rice misleads the lovelorn maggot.
Iridescent blueberries bulge the scone.
Malted walls flatten the round red target.
Skinny doctors medicate to the bone.
Oval apricots describe slow judges.
The grey tarantulas worry a mouse.
Confused cannibals craft gourmet fudges.
You can't TP the toilet paper house.
Rusty coffee cups shiver on the shirt.
Olive skies conceal the encroaching dirt.