The iTablet: What I think they are thinking

To start with, it's not an iPad. That's just going to get confusing when you're dealing with foreign accents. To me, it's an iTablet, and that's what I'm sticking with.

Now, obviously, this whole thing has been argued to death over the last few days. But as the title originally said, this is a place for the Mangled Remains of Other People's Thoughts. Spending two days arguing about it before coming up with a response is very much in keeping with this blog's mission statement.

Edward Cullen vs Angel

"But I wanted to. I can walk like a man, but I'm not one. I wanted to kill you tonight."
"I so very nearly took you then. There was only one other frail human there — so easily dealt with."
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One of my favourite sports is "scurvekano-baiting". This is where you take one of my best friends from high-school, say something that provokes a response, and see how long you can keep going till one or the other of you gets bored or so offended that you feel sorry. Following both of us on Twitter must make people weep for humanity.

Recently, I hit the motherload. I commited an heretical and treasonous act. I implied that Joss Whedon's cult favourite, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, shared a lot of the qualities that Twilight, enrager of nerds, gets attacked for. I was asked to justify that statement.

.....

Let's be clear.I love the modern Doctor Who. I love everything about it, from the daft ridiculous plots, to the joyous acting, to the terrible dei ex machinae. I've watched every episode over and over again, I've watched all the confidentials.
And when I say that that was everything I could want from the ending of Doctor Who, and among the best episodes of the entire series, I'm not kidding. I loved it. It's everything I could have asked for.
Thanks, Mr Davies, Mr Collinson, Ms. Gardner, Mr Tennant and Mr Eccleston. And all the amazing rest of the cast and crew.

Good luck, Steven. Good luck, Matt.

It's been a mite snowy up here...

I'm dyyying from a White Christmas
Just like the ones I used to know...
Where treetops glisten,
And children go missing,
Because they're playing in deep snow.

I'm dying, from a White Christmas
With every breath for which i fight...
May your (remaining) days be merry and bright,
And may all your perishing be white.