innocent internet

Part of the early promise of an innocent internet was the rash contact between unlike beings. While the vain musings of a celebrity blog may suggest otherwise, a certain teen spirit lives on in the seemingly self-maintained website of former Can soundscapist and genius Holger Czukay.
An original thought often has more nourishment.

impeach blair

Impeach Blair? Make him sweat, I say. Adam Price's bid to impeach the PM may have as much chance of success as an English tennis player at Wimbledon, but at least our plucky Welsh nationalist party are at last taking a stance for democracy. Joined by the noble Scots and various others, this futile stab has all the makings of an Ealing comedy, Westminster farce or Greek tragedy, depending on your viewpoint.

Scooby summer

Boomerang is helpfully staging a summer of wall-to-wall Scooby-Doo cartoons this summer, including the splendid 'What's New Scooby-Doo?' The gang no longer walk like fools, and Fred has ditched his cravat, although he and Daphne do seem to have swapped IQs.
Now Scooby has endured many highs (Sarah Michelle Gellar) and lows (Scrappy-doo) in his career, but you know it's time to put the kids to bed when the appalling 'Laff-A-Lympics' comes on the box. How on earth did Fred Flintstone manage to travel through time to take part in this compilation of mediocrity? What on earth was his agent thinking of?
Give me the Wacky Races any time.

a rock star ate my hamster

I have it on reliable authority from C64 retro expert Frank Gasking that my banned/unbanned video game 'Rock Star Ate My Hamster' has drawn some interest in this month's Games TM magazine (whatever that is). See colin-jones.com for further details.
This retro interest takes me back, you know. Codemasters did a good job on publicising rock star. They also trusted me enough to allow me free reign to just get on with the game. I guess that's quite rare today.

gently closing grip

I recently received a letter telling me that one of my domain names was about to expire together with a renewal form. Strange, since I always renew domains over the internet. It was, alas, another hopeless scam from a company hoping to lure me innocently away from my current webspace provider. I silently discarded the letter into an empty rotweiller, and tried to get on with my timeslot.
Alas, patterns are formed, and noting the hundreds of junk emails I receive every week I realize that the days of open communication over the internet are slowly coming to an end. The gently closing grip of tricksters, scumbags and fools means that soon no-one will post their email addresses on site and that we all slowly retreat into our caves of quiet seclusion.

but perfectly formed

Running a small publishing house calls for meticulous planning, something I sometimes forget.  Imagine my surprise last week to find that we only had 7 copies of the Cadw Swn coursebook left! Luckily our printer is a whizz, and less than one week later we have shiny new stock.  Just in time for some orders from America too.   They call it print-on-demand you know.  

timeslot abuse

When I was young and foolish I used to think that there was one common reality that we all inhabited; that we all experienced the same existence. I now realize of course, that we each inhabit separate timeslots, which often bear no relationship to each other. We all give meaning where there is none to events, objects and beings which in fact comes from within. We interpret the world, while merely watching a hollow reflection of it in our mind's eye, colored by the paint of meaning we insist on laying over everything.