Paid in Blood

Well, today I sold my blood. (Not all of it.) That grossed $180, which means about $120 after tax (yes, you're taxed on your blood). That's enough to pay for the first few months' subscription to The Vault. Hooray! Downside: I'm too tired to actually sign up at the moment. But I do have until the 21st to take iron tablets and recover.

While we're on the subject, new lobby card for The Dead Weather's film here. Called "Love You Always, " it's an example of what happens to the appearance of that font if the text is too short - increasing the size puts the text out of proportion with the film frame. Far less cool than the longer texts in smaller letters. Nice picture, though.

At the gym today, I was facing a sports TV. I usually avoid that one, but it was pretty crowded tonight. The news was mainly about someone called Chad Ochocinco, who had decided he would tweet during NFL games next season. With a name like Ochocinco, he's probably a virtual man anyway, like Lonelygirl15.

But if he's not, it's an interesting illustration of how far people will go to stay connected to teh interwebs. Nothing will keep people away. I remember in the eighties, when I was writing SF, I often (possibly always) wrote about protagonists with implants that allowed them to stay in contact with what became the web, and I wasn't the only one writing that by about a gazillion and a half. The critics called it body hate - they thought we must regret the flesh, want to denigrate the meat, be violated and penetrated by silicon, purified by inorganic, anti-life hardware.

I didn't, as it happens - I just wanted a cooler Walkman.

It's only twenty years later and even NFL football players seem to be getting with the program. I wonder if the critics would even bother to do that type of analysis any more? Probably not, as they're most likely too busy interacting with someone miles away through their Bluetooth headsets.