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Why do people throw fail grenades at you only at the end of the day? Had all day to bat them back, and at 5:09 pm here they come.

Stop looking at work email at least half an hour before work ends. Also, no meetings. Book your calendar as busy for the first and last hours of each day. No one should need to talk to you while you're setting up shop in the morning, or prioritising things that need to be done the next day.

The problem with the visuals of 'Mortal Engine' is that London kind of looks like how a lot of people think London actually is: This hulking thing rolling over everything else, and somehow impervious to everything else. In reality, we're seeing that quite the opposite is the case.

People are shit. Use strongly implemented 2-factor authentication on your personal accounts.

The one thing that makes the Xmas season survivable is mulled wine. I'll grant it that. That in a to-go cup out on a cold day by the Thames whilst kid - with his cup-o-hot-choc - and I watch the boats pass.

Here's hoping that 2019 sees more people act on their new year's resolutions to get off the centralised services like Facebook, Twitter, etc. and move over to the Fediverse. No, not all the problems are solved here, but they feel far more solvable.

Off Tumblr, LinkedIn FB, and many others over the course of 2017 and 2018, though not yet away from Twitter, but am trending in that direction in the new year. Then the BIG one... Google.

All I want for Christmas is the 26th of December.

"Hunger looks very like evil from the wrong end of the cutlery. " - Doctor Who

My favourite Christmas period activity is getting rid of things. Burned loads of no-longer needed documents that had been filling up a shelf. Deleted more online accounts. Got rid of some old clothes. Tiny, happy culling to counter the tide of garbage that comes in.

Conspiracy is usually a mirage caused by incompetence.

I've already reached 'Bah Humbug' stage.

“The criminal is the creative artist; the detective only the critic.”

― G.K. Chesterton, The Blue Cross: A Father Brown Mystery

One way or another, time passes. The day will finish in the same amount of time, regardless of whether everything is fabulous, or complete shit. This is actually a feature of an indifferent universe.

You literally need to not have an open office environment if more than 2 people in the space are having separate phone/VOIP meetings at the same time. It doesn't work.

Thanksgiving abroad: when people call up from the US to ask how you're celebrating a thing that stopped being relevant to you long ago.

Burning a huge heap of old documents from the file boxes in the back garden was the high point of today. Old college loan docs, work letters from jobs long gone, receipts for crap I got rid of or lost years ago, bank records from closed accounts. It's life's detritus. Now smoke and ash. I feel lighter.

Sometimes it feels like this timeline is running so close to another one that I can occasionally see bits of that one from here.

So, this is my signal word for when I want to shout something but am also conscious that I probably shouldn't post it on the web.

Let nearly anyone talk long enough on how something ought to be or how people ought to act and you can understand how easily totalitarian regimes happen.

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