The Newsroom.

I think that started with Tom Jones in the 1960s, but I could be wrong. In any case, women making themselves sexually available in an obvious way to popular and powerful men is not a trend; it seems to be a permanent feature of the species.

I don't like the way horses look at me.

Same thing I do every day, Pinky. Stay up until 5 am ripping apart hypocrisies, inventing fake identities, explaining irony and sarcasm to foreigners and banging slamming bitches. In that order.

It's all boring stuff about "feelings" and relationships and so on.

I'm a big fan of the Mojave Desert. It has Death Valley and Las Vegas and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mojave_National_Preserve

That's not his liver. He has jaundice.

Therapists are an endangered species as soon as Americans realise that what they do is pointless.

I don't think I'm qualified to teach anyone anything. Any of the stuff I "know" is available to anyone who can read.

Really? Really, formspring? Really?

REALLY?

I was standing beside a tree once, and someone said, "That's a nice tree," which it was. So I guess a tree is a physical feature. Other than that, people seem to like my dog, Leonard.

About as much as she feels about me.

Related: http://www.formspring.me/solo1/q/283139149643386560

Mine is switched off most of the time. So, no.

Aluminum.

I try to keep that sort of thing to a minimum.

I can't. There's fucking people everywhere. Even when I crawl away under a rock and lock the door on that rock, there's always someone wanting something.

I read all the instructions. Then I go online and find YouTube videos explaining how to put it together. Then I go on forums and hunt down any possible difficulties. Then I leave at least a day go by, sleeping on the new information. Only then do I feel comfortable hiring a Mexican to do it for me.

I don't have a vote.

I'd find someone I don't like and shit on his dog. I'd do this from a great height when no one was looking, and I'd keeping doing it, randomly, but frequently, undetected. All he sees is his furry best friend bounding towards him every day, full of energy and unconditional love, and covered in shit; shit that is obviously human.

There is, of course, no scenario that could satisfactorily explain why his dog seems to be accumulating human shit on his fur, sometimes even when he was just turned around for a moment in an otherwise empty field. Hopefully he will spend long hours worrying about it, hiring detectives, putting messages on internet forums dedicated to where shit comes from.

If he eventually gives up the idea of owning a dog at all, I'll start on his girlfriend.

I don't have "friends". I have associates with whom I occasionally collaborate on various projects.