fly.jpg "The Ice Harvest" has just come out on DVD, so I got to see it. Really, really good. Jon Cusack, Billy Bob Thornton, Oliver Platt. All fun to watch. Black humor. Almost Coen-Brothery. Let's see, what else? I just had an orange. It was good, but it was one of those sneaky ones. When you peel it, what's left is about the size of a walnut. I have three rubber bands on my desk, big fat ones, and nobody to shoot them at. The people here, if you shot a rubber band at them, they'd turn and look at you like "what is your problem?" and then go back to work. What kind of place is this to work? I can hear Laurelines now: "Well, Sparky, it doesn't sound like you ARE working." Okay, then, what kind of place is this to BE? Why can't I hang out at a place like they have on TV, in an old warehouse with cool stuff on the walls and a guy playing frisbee with his dog and stuff? The idea of an OFFICE, with all this OFFICE furniture and phones and ball-point pens and manila folders and three-hole punches and deeply depressing. And no windows you can open. Is that any way to live? whine