I spent a good hour today trying to figure out how to make my template cooler. Not on this website, no. That would be to sane and logical. I went to over two dozen websites that promised me pre-fabricated templates of varying interest and quality, all self-explanatory and easily installed at the touch of a button.

The internet is a liar.

To this point, I have resolved to merely keep the one I have, and when all my cool friends with their awesome backgrounds ask me why mine is so vanilla, I will make some defensive comment about the quality of the words over the look, then skulk away, planning to kick them in the shin after they've forgotten about me.

I was talking to a friend of mine who works at a record label the other day, and let slip perhaps the greatest secret of my faux-hipster persona: I like the Barenaked Ladies. I know, I know, that phrase either means you're lame or are a rich white boy with season tickets to them, and Dispatch, and DMB (Wait......), but my even cooler music friend admitted he likes them to, in shameful secrecy.

Does everyone like Barenaked Ladies in shameful secrecy? Are we all afraid to come clean? The Pomo will continue its investigations.

Finally, I was playing one of the old Super Mario Bros. games the other day when it dawned on me that if the violence in video game people really wanted to make a legitimate claim, they should've started earlier. The conspicuous lack of concern for the thousands, and I mean thousands, of souls crushed underfoot by that Pseudo-Italian death machine some fancifully dub Mario is disheartening. I can't help but ask why the mid-western housewife who won't let her son play a game that accurately depicts and teaches how to kill with piano wire thinks that Mushrooms and Turtles don't deserve saving. Are they second class citizens to you, Frau Hitler?

Remember, if they have spikes on their shells, they have it coming.

RM