The Zoo over Ambuscade Street

I need constant reminders that other people don't necessarily know what the hell they're talking about, especially around these parts.

See, I'm working on a project that involves installing a network of sniffers into a tactical lab that Cannot Be Altered, yea verily. I had a "tactical engineer" up here last week telling me that I'd be creating an incredible amount of work for him altering host tables and routing tables. The hell?

For those who don't know, sniffers are completely and utterly passive. They don't talk, they listen. Nothing needs to be routed to them, and they need be routed to nobody. You plug it into the switch, and you're done.

In other words, this guy was blowing smoke out of his ass. For some reason, I'm still not used to that.

(I did manage to talk to the supervisor today and get some support with my issue from last week, which is happy. But god do I hate playing politics!)

I just got an annoying hoax forward. The Neiman-Marcus one, in fact. From my father.

The day suddenly took a dramatic turn for the worst.

If I had more time and more energy, I'd feel like writing a scholarly paper to demonstrate that GTO is actually a study of psychosis and mental health problems in modern-day Japanese society.

Instead, just imagine that I've done so and look on in awe.

Next up: Pondering monika's theory that Touga is really the Oscar character in Utena, rather than the titular character.

Ken has officially been granted the title Most Fatal Evil, for even daring to suggest that there might be such a thing as Peter the Apostle/Naruto slash.

The world is not ready.