Turns out that someone, somewhere got hold of my Amex and charged up $2000 worth of plane tickets this weekend. Which set me off in a panic, thinking that I’ve got a keylogger lurking somewhere on the TFG Mainframe from this latest round of virii. What to do, what to do? Run rootkit detectors, download updates from all over, scan deeply, etc., all with No Results Found. What to do, what to do?

Buy a Mac, I guess. I hate the Apple OS, and I mean deeply…it’s like being in grade school again, with that lying, prancing hack Jobs as the Mean Principal. Maybe install a Linux distro? I’d do that in a heartbeat, but I don’t think there are any ready for the dual-core Intels. Whatever, it’s pretty clear that Mr. Softy isn’t going to be able to manage the onslaught from cocksuckers in the world, and frankly, I’ve got a lot of damn work to do that doesn’t involve pissing around with worrying about animated freaking cursors.

What really burns me up is that I’ve got all this biometric bullshit built on here to read fingerprints, but all it does is this: read a fingerprint and then simulate me typing in a password. Which ain’t too freaking great. Once I realized that, I just disabled the stupid thing. Biometric is the way to go, no matter where you are, what you do, or what OS you’re on. But that’s just too damn much for all the social networking Web 2.0 weenies to take on, I guess.

Well, anyway. I’ll see you on the flip side, whatever I decide to do.

You can read all about it over at The Wife’s corner of the internet tubes. I am here to say that I actually enjoyed an evening that did not feature one fiddle, one steel guitar, or one song about drinking & shooting. And seriously, no one was more surprised than me. But it’s a good reminder that good music is good music. If you got your ears open, you never know what might wander in.

Son, do you need to borrow a comb?

Radiant, it’s fair to say, really surprised me. I don’t know what I expected, but I was impressed to hear enough echoes of Sonic Youth’s Thurston Moore that it didn’t matter what I expected. Somedays, I really miss that electric guitar experimental stuff. Maybe it had nothing to do with Moore at all, but that’s what tripped over in my brain. A little more accessible, perhaps, but still challenging.

OK, you can take all that rock-crit stuff with a grain of salt. It was fun to listen to two guys stretch out. ‘Nuff said. Scott Bob says, Check ‘em out if you get the chance.