I finally got around to watching 2001: A Space Odyssey again, in memory of Sir Arthur C Clarke, who
recently died, if you haven't already heard. It still remains one of the most brilliant films ever committed to celluloid, even if it isn't my favorite film. In an artistic sense, I think 2001 is Clarke's greatest work, and certainly Kubrick's too. Hopefully, Clarke will find his Big Dumb Object in the sky.
As kind of a prequel to that, once again we hosted the festivities for St Paddy's, which lasted four days. Most seemed to believe this had been mandated by Papal proclamation, and so drank and smoked till the air was blue during the course of one immense bender. And there was no Guinness to be had! God, it was horrible.
And so I go home tomorrow morning for Easter and five days of rest and relaxation. I worked Good Friday for the extra pay and because they wouldn't give me it off. For the most religious of developed nations, you'd think Americans would have better things to do then pester me about their cell phone bills on the day Christ died to save sinners and prevent evolution from being taught in schools. I suppose it's natural, because only in America does someone's voice mail rebuke his creditors in the name of Our Lord Jesus Christ.
Toodles.