A quick walk through Ms. R's floor at the company after lunch to say hello to people I worked with in the past who are still with the company, many of them let go with my group, but then brought back on contract. I'm getting the impression the job market is a bit tight out there are the moment, so I'm happy to be essentially out of that race. Some “hello-goodbyes” then back to the apartment for a nap. This running about town can be tiring, don't you think?

Ms. Emmy, by the way, was not overly enamoured with the first of those ten brands/varieties of canned cat food I picked up for her at the pet shop yesterday, so I fell back on one she's been able to tolerate in the past, but we are still skating on (thin) ice. If she's in the bedroom sleeping on the bed she's well fed and happy. If she's up on my lap looking me in the face with her paws on my chest she's hungry. Not necessarily really hungry, but hungry is hungry and one is not allowed to forget. Not that I would.

I have a cat with an uneasy stomach. She's had an uneasy stomach since she arrived. She'll have an uneasy stomach when she leaves and my job is to provide her with things she likes to eat. You may think this foolish - let the little bugger eat the cheapest of dry stuff that comes in fifty pound never gets stale bags - but there are many foolish things in this life and feeding your cat is but a minor test of your humanity and whether you're paying proper attention to the whim of Chairman Meow (a tip of the hat here to Rien). So we continue the search.

Two stories today on the political front: They managed to nail bin Laden's driver for being his driver in what will be considered by overseas audiences a kangaroo court and probably aid and abet the bad guys in their recruiting efforts. Hell, everything else associated with Gitmo seems to have had this effect. And the FBI selectively laid out their evidence on Ivins, the fellow they're saying was responsible for the anthrax attacks, except everybody still has this creepy feeling they're laying out a case that doesn't make much sense.

Maybe they've nailed the right guy, maybe no one else was involved, but since he committed suicide while under a twenty-four hour watch we're probably never going to know. The FBI is saying they're closing the case. Whatever happened here, whatever took the FBI seven years to botch, doesn't give you a happy feeling we've got an FBI that's competent. An organization you want to believe follows the law and works at least half as well in the field as, say, the make believe people in the television cop shows in scooping up the bad guys again looks as if it doesn't have a clue. Why am I not surprised?

A couple of movies arrived today from Netflix, I'll probably watch at least one tonight, although I notice from reading one of the descriptions I may have rented one of them in the past. I hope that's not the case, but it wouldn't be for the first time in my life. Usually, when you read the blurb on a movie on their web site they'll give you an estimate of how you'll like the movie based on other movies you've rated, but if you have already rented and rated the movie it will say this is the rating you gave it in the past. I've gotten pretty good at catching this having, as I mentioned, screwed up more than once, but I'll know pretty quick.

Maybe I can't bitch about the poor old incompetent FBI when I show this kind of incompetence in renting something as simple as a movie from Netflix. I'm getting old(er) I guess. Hell, in another five or six years I'll be old as the current Republican candidate for President. I'm sure he's as sharp as a tack in his own movie selections probably because he's smart enough to delegate the job to his wife.

Now, now.

These entries do seem to degenerate into the same old schtick. Still, they come off the keyboard with little or no effort lickety-split. Many a good thing to say about living your life lickety-split with little or no effort, sitting in a chair watching movies you didn't really like when you saw them in the first place.