How clients think budgets work

Shout out to my PR, advertising and marketing peeps.

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Internet surveillance: Hooray!

Lots of governments are expanding their powers to surveil their peeps’ internet habits. Like the UK, which¬† just proposed legislation that will let them monitor Brits’ web activities and hack into their devices.

Presumably this is so they can find out who is participating on “Selecting a pocketsquare that best complements your suicide vest” Reddits. Although I’m sure some pasty bureaucrat will use it to verify that his centaur porn fetish isn’t that weird (Right? …RIGHT?!?)

Internet surveillance stupid google searches

Much smarter people have explored the issue of privacy much more eloquently, so I won’t get into it too much on a blog that regularly uses terms like “sparkle-ness” and “schmammered”.

But I will say this. If you think privacy only matters if you’re doing something wrong, think about the last time you belted out an impassioned rendition of Total Eclipse of the Heart, while making toast alone in your underwear. Losing our privacy doesn’t just censor our bad. It censors our awesome.

On haircuts

I usually wait until my hair reaches a state best described as ‘vagrant poodle’ before I get it cut. This is mostly due to poor time management.

I changed stylists last year because the dapper gentleman I used to go to always asked “Have you been cutting your own bangs?” in what I considered to be a more judgy tone than was strictly necessary. It’s basically the hairdresser equivalent of the “Have you been flossing?” question that dental hygienists ask in a way that suggests that, if the answer is ‘no’, you might as well move to the bottom of a well and cut off all contact with humanity because you are worse than Stalin.

Where was I?

Right. Haircuts. There is something both terrifying and awesome about getting your hair cut because you get to de-hobo, but even the most artistic and talented hairdressers sometimes make questionable snips that leave you looking like a freshly shorn Lhasa Apso. (I don’t know why all my hair analogies involve dogs today but you get my drift.)

50s kid haircutNote: Pic adapted from this nifty archive photo.