No one move a muscle as the dead come home

A Nobel-winning geneticist has called for a ban on genetic discrimination. He compares it to the ban on discrimination by race or sex. The point is, those forms of discrimination were unfair. Women aren't naturally hysterical. Blacks aren't naturally lazy. Gays don't attract enemy radar. Surely a life insurer has every right to insist on a genetic survey, just as a house insurer is entitled to demand a survey on the house? Certainly, it so far seems that genes show predispositions rather than inevitabilities. It would be unfair to refuse insurance to someone because they were genetically prone to heart disease; it would not be unfair to insist they took compensatory measures in their lifestyle if they wished to be insured.

A weekend update will follow once I'm clearer what actually happened. I didn't make it back to North London until dawn was already showing her face on Sunday morning, had a day in a dream-like state and then a dream in a day-like state. I'm fairly confident that I did in fact see two of the stars of Shameless outside my front door. I'm fairly confident that Robert Mugabe didn't in fact turn out to be an old family friend who was going to give me Zimbabwe when he retired. Much else, however, is more obscure.

In the meantime, would anybody like the new album by that lamentable twit Graham Coxon? From what I can make out, for the most part it's a series of whinges about Camden druggies. Given that I live within walking distance of Camden and I couldn't care less, heavens know who the intended audience is.
edit: Offer closed in doublequick time. I despair of my friends' taste sometimes.

These are my people and this is my crowd

"They'll rape us to death, eat our flesh and sew our skins into their clothing. If we're lucky, they'll do it in that order."
But enough about the clientele of Stay Beautiful, I want to talk about Firefly( Read more... )

Saturday and Sunday were somewhat marred by the barbarian hordes of red-shirted hivemind scum who overran North London and one of whose members even infiltrated Stay Beautiful but my being empowered to exterminate them was pretty much the only thing I'd change about the weekend. I got to drink much tea, advise serious_k on the manufacture of mobiles, wander the spring streets, read many fine comics, finish watching A Midsummer Night's Dream and, of course, ( Stay Beautiful )

Unattributable conversation:
"If Barry thinks he's a slvt, that's really bad, isn't it?"
"No...just professional respect."