I studied economics for a couple of years in high school. I did not study it particularly well, nor did I remember very much.
The sum total of my economic knowledge is the term stagflation, and I only remember this because it sounds like antlers with a boner. That, and the fact that Ross Gittins wore Dunlop KT26s when he delivered my year’s economic update before the HSC. Two facts, you’ll agree, that stand me in good stead for understanding the economy as a whole.
HSC students gonna know what I mean.
This is the background with which I read Freakonomics, a collection of chapters loosely corralled together under the guise of making data answer interesting questions (such as why sumo wrestlers might cheat) instead of boring ones (involving GDP and the like). (more…)
Well, it’d seem I’m cutting through these collections the way prison-toilet wine cuts through intestinal lining. Time for some thoughts on another hilarious collection of lost moments from a horrific human research facility masquerading as a prison.
I’ve almost got it. Can you explain a little more, though?
I’ve a slightly longer post brewing about the games I’ve been playing over the past couple of months. They’ve been longer and fairly involved, so I’ve been dragging my heels on getting something out there. But I just completed a game I chose at random from my collection, which turned out to be about seven hours worth of Good Times (well, mostly) and featured a whole lot of cyberpunk hoo-ha and stylish graphic nonsense, created by a very small team.
TLDR? I’ve been hanging out with an AI that has boxy hair and an alarming habit of exploding. (more…)
Q is a book I’ve had on my to-read list for quite a while. I can’t remember where I first heard of it but I’m willing to lay money on the fact that it was in my pretentious “I only read LITERATURE!” stage, fairly recently after graduation. (Which, as we all know is bullshit, because airport lit absolutely slaps in the right circumstances.)
Where was I? Pretension. Right. Well, I’m assuming that Younger Me was driven by that rather than an earnest interest into the religious and political machinations of middle Europe in the 16th century. (Unlike Me Of Today who is All About That Shit.) So I have to assume that the main reason I wanted to read it was that the author, Luther Blissett, doesn’t exist.
Back on this again. Deadman Wonderland remains a decent break from more taxing literature, given that you’ll always be assured of some grimly violent fighting and some embarrassed-teen interchanges in ready supply.
And corpse biscuits. Don’t forget the corpse biscuits.