Faces on the bus
Too much time on my hands. Found myself wondering, idly, what it’s like to have your face plastered all over the sides of city buses. Not that I want to find out, directly, but it must be disconcerting to see someone familiar roll by.
Locally, we get movie stars, TV stars, athletes, people selling tires, people pretending to like shoes. A cross-section of society. Larger than life, usually. In full pixellated colour. Ephemeral, which is a plus. Somehow, I don’t want to see the same brow for years on end. How does it happen? Do you go to your agent, and appeal for notoriety? Do you accept it as the broccoli on a plate of other, tastier career advancements? At this point in my personal wheel of fortune, I’ll never know.
Two years and a bit. The length of time needed in the American justice system to attach a guilty tag to the wrist of the doctor who offed MJ. We didn’t have to endure the day after day of testimony, but now we know. MJ didn’t (probably) off himself; he had trained help.
Keep an eye on the disaster channel. Sometimes, what goes down elsewhere does affect you. The availability/price of large hard drives is in a negative zone right now, following floods in Thailand. Seems that the industrial park where geeks get their GBs was forced to shut down, and now my local Future Shop and Best Buy are short on the shelves. If I needed another 2 TB, I’d have to wait my turn. That’s not good.
