Okay, let me get this straight. Art “I fucked Cleveland and skipped town without so much as leaving a $50 on the dresser” Modell wins the Super Bowl. Ray Lewis is not only not in jail for murder but is the game MVP. Shrub is still president. My newspaper is about to combine its music and tech sections into one apples-and-gravy combo plate. Did someone save the receipt for this whoreson year so we can get a refund?

Hey, maybe I ought to make like Shrub and swear off email for four years. Yeah, that’s how to handle stuff you don’t understand: hide. Not that we needed further proof that this oaf is half the man his father is, but did George Sr. hide under the shopping cart the first time he saw a UPC scanner? No. No he did not.

Of course, maybe Poppy reminded him that it’s a damn site harder to hang your fat ass for treason if there’s no document trail. Ask Henry Kissinger about those Freedom Of Information Act blues — and, if you haven’t already, check out the blistering exposé in this month’s Harper’s.

Want to hear something really scary? For the next hour more or less (until 11am), I’m doing an interview on Net ethics for c|net Radio. My cold is mostly over so I sound almost human, but we’ll see whether I manage to say anything smart (as opposed to smartass, which is never a problem)…

My notebook is crashing today. Not that it’s not always in a precarious condition, being one of my computers and thus subject to the same whatever-field that makes me stop watches and small electronic items, but 9.8 meters/second^2 feels like it’s going a little quicker than usual just now. To salve my shattered nerves, I have repaired to eBlots and henceforth prefer to be known by my username there.

Love —

Hairy Linen.

Don’t have a New Year’s resolution yet? Consider taking Jim Munroe’s thoughts on publishing and indie culture to heart as your New Year’s… well, maybe not so much a revolution as a manifesto. Whatever works for you in the new millennium. Happy happy.