Why don't they just rename it "Terminal Maginot," for cripes' sake.

On a trip to London a few years ago, we spotted a sign for a wineshop in Notting Hill called Portobello Gold that advertised a variety of different wines, and absolutely NO monkeys.

Hasn't it already happened long ago in various virtual worlds? I'm a n00b on Second Life, and it appears that the only "normals" are the brand new people such as myself. With more experience and virtual accessories, skins, whatnot, people seem to become either hyper-sexy, or mega-bizarre. I've seen plenty of both in just a few days.

There are some creative exceptions, though. I met the owner of a mall who affected the look of a slighly portly, dandified fellow who sported a white goatee and a cane. One of my companions greeted him with "Wow! you're the first old person I've ever seen here."

He replied kindly enough... and as he typed, a detailed steampunk typewriter popped up in front of his hands.

Still, I'd put him in the "attracive, intelligent ruling elite" class for now.

There was a Zork reference on the pilot episode of "Chuck" (NBC series premiering in the US). The show was pretty funny, actually. The title character, Chuck, gets an email from an old friend, and the password to open it required him to remember what he had in his inventory when he and his friend played Zork in college.

Aiyeee, etc. The hell with humans, I've just fired off a letter to the manufacturer of our cat's microchip, asking if they can cite any more recent studies that might show whether there's an increased risk of cancer or not in cats, dogs, and horses.

Interesting how the story seems to ramble along in the last sections about Tommy Thompson's business ties to the company, though. What's that about? Seems like a completely different axe is being ground there. He seems to be on the "Tommy Thompson and RFID" beat. Odd.

Some years ago when I was still living in Seattle, I was about to leave the site of Bumbershoot towards the end of the day with some friends. All day long, the people on the exit gates been issuing handstamps to festivalgoers that had decided to leave for a while and come back later in the day. Even then, the per-day and all-weekend prices were pretty expensive.

However, when we got nearer the head of the line for the way out, we found that the gatekeepers refused to stamp anybody's hand that was trying to leave (this was at about 5 or 6pm, even though where were shows going on until 9 oclock or later). Supposedly the reasoning was that food vendors didn't want people to leave to get dinner at home or more cheaply offsite and then return on their handstamp - they wanted them to pay again to return.

People objected, and pretty soon a chant started up: "Hell no, we won't go (without a handstamp)." A spontaneous demonstration and sit-in broke out, or maybe people were just hot and tired, and sat down.

The line to leave got longer and longer as more and more people decided to wait out the "evening departure rule," which was not actually posted at the gate or on the back of ticket stubs. After about half an hour of good-natured chanting and negotiations, the gatekeepers finally got the go-ahead to stamp us out. It was exhilarating, if a little petty of us, knowing we'd been part of a successful if short-lived protest movement.

And off my friends and I went to get dinner at a clean and cool and inexpensive restaurant nearby, and came back to catch another couple of shows.

WN!!1!