My God, It's Raining

So the Times Online has announced that it will be adopting a microtransaction model later this year, where a day’s access to their website will cost £1, and a week’s access for £2.

I can’t even be arsed getting irate about this.  It’s just such a hilariously bad idea that I actually want them to go ahead and do it, just so I can witness it dying on it’s arse.

It’s not like it’ll be missed,  anyway.  Rupert Murdoch’s obvious thread of bias that taints every single news source under his banner relegates all the content out of the realm of actual journalism and into some nether-land where by merely thinking something, you make it the truth.  I made the unforgivable error of buying the Times Education Supplement, only to discover that it painted a picture of the education system as a flimsy facsimile of education in an unspecified Golden Age, and that teachers (or at least the ones invited to write op-ed pieces) are all blithering, self-deluded idiots.  For example, there was a page 3 op-ed column titled “How Teaching Ruined My Marriage” which, on reading the actual text, should really have been called “Why I’m Going to Blame Everything Except Myself”.

tl;dr version – Times Online goes pay per view, rest of internet points and laughs, me included.

So I went running these past two mornings, which was a good thing because it’s been about six and a half years since I let slip my grip on a fitness regime that more than made up for my general lack of social ability.  My God, but it’s hard work getting back into it, though.  I still don’t like early mornings.  I know that for definite.  However, my afternoons and evenings seem to fill themselves with Things To Get Done rather quicker than I recall them doing in my youth, so early mornings it is.

Also I need new running shoes.  My current pair date back to 2004, I think, and are seriously starting to show their age.  The outside edge of the heels are worn down so much that I’m rolling my foot on every strike, and it’s making the outside edge of my legs ache something fierce.

Right.  Now to go see if I can talk Lisa into seeing Kick-Ass with me.  It’ll be super busy but it gets it out of the way.

Addendum: Soor Plooms are awesome.  That is all.

Because I like knowing things, last week we bought a blood pressure monitor so that I could keep track of the effectiveness of the medication I’m on.  Short version; it’s not really doing the business.  Still, it seems to have a short-term effect so I guess we’re kind of on the right track.  Nevertheless, my Excel spreadsheet looks a bit like a rollercoaster at the moment, which means we’re not all the way there.

This was all inspired by my mother, who was put on a 24 hour monitor for her blood pressure; they found that she has generally normal levels, but every so often it’ll spike up, reaching up towards stratospheric levels.  I blame Dad, and the fact she hasn’t had a normal sleep cycle in almost a decade.

Lisa and I are off to Hull today to look round the area with a view to seeing where we want to live.  Found a couple of flats to rent so far; it’d be nice to actually buy a place – vuxenpoäng, and all that – but unfortunately I’ve yet to solidfy a solid source of income that would make that possible.  Considering how close we are to moving, it’s going to be best that I try and find something in the Hull area now.

So, the BBC is defending its choice to put the BNP on the air, citing that there is sufficient public support for the party to consider them eligible to take part in Question Time.  Really, there was no question of them ever pulling the plug on Nick Griffin’s appearance.  It’s generated so much press for the show, and the BBC in general, that the director general must be literally rolling on the floor of his office in glee.

I get really wound up by the vox populi defence.  Extending the premise beyond giving racists political credibility on the basis that some people are racist, perhaps we should have shows that offer general medical advice include a crystal healing guru and a psychic who can tell you where your nearest snake oil shop is.  Yes, it might lead to a few people dying from their ultimately untreated condition, but fake medicines are a big industry, so obviously it’s what the people want.

Stop. The. Presses.

Box of food has just arrived from Japan Centre.  Win and awesome; we now have another three months of rice in stock, just in case the apocalypse happens before the calendar ticks over to 2010.  Most important of all, though, is the single packet of Shigekix Super Sour sweets that I get every time we make one of these orders.  Basically it’s just sugar and gelatine dusted with vitamin C (which gives the intense sour flavour).  I can’t help myself when I get, and usually end up with a numb tongue from the assault on my taste buds.

Time to lose the power of speech, people!