Thursday 25 February 1999


Pic of the day: Unforgettable sinner? Chips, even tortilla chips, is far from the most healthy thing you can stuff into your gaping maw. (Though even with cheese dips, chances are you don't get a food poisoning.) Actually, I only ate a little. I'm impressed however by just how hard it is to stop your hands from just taking one more and one more and one more.

Oh my, I hope you didn't want some too, now.

This afternoon, as I tried to log on to, the server was not found. I had hoped to chat with Birgitte, of course. :) Oh well, there are other Birgittes in the world, I guess. I hope they'll come back up again, though. I hope they only were knocked out by the number of visits after their public appearance on radio and TV. They're so young and cute, and make such nice music, I really wish them well. ("Them" being Birgitte, Kjell & Egil in Infinity.)

Today, at work, I turned on my radio outside of news in an effort to stay awake. Almost immediately, a voice announced that most accidents are caused by humans. And most humans are caused by ... accidents. This somewhat cynical statement turned out to be an ad for "the magazine for men who probably won't go to Heaven". I turned off at that point. I hate to think of probability in that context.

But this episode vividly reminds me of a remark in a speech by Sigurd Bratlie (late and lamented tailor, pensioneer, evangelist etc in the highly pietist congregation known as "Smiths Friends"). He summed up broadcasting like this: "And what is it on these long waves, short waves and whatever? Sex, adultery and fornication!" I remember this fairly well: Unlike the natives of that congregation, I was grown up with radio, so I found his judgement wildly biased, highly unrealistic and downright ridiculous (despite my respect for him as a person - I had met him occasionally). And I also remember that the next time I turned on my radio at random, I found myself listening to some guy describing his personal evaluation of prostitutes in Thailand.

To quote James Redfield: "Trust synchronicity".

Blasts from my past:


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Visit the Diary Farm for the diaries I've put out to pasture until they buy the farm:
January 1999
December 1998

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