The Faint Scent of Brimstone with Notes of Sulfur

Note to Self

A hand written note to remind me to stop and make a call at 2p. That’s all. I’ve been thinking about notes and reminders lately.

If I followed this to its logical yet design fiction-y conclusion, I’m sure I’d find the devil himself. <a href="The New York Times does a slightly fluffy anecdotal piece on toddlers strangely addicted to iPhones. If I were in charge I’d consider legislation to slap little warning labels on these damn things. Apple lovers — many of whom have fancy jobs enough to afford a new iPhone to replace the perfectly good one from last year — are probably huffing with hands-on-hips (thumbs forward) dismissing the early warning signs which I am sure are weak signals of a species transformation of the sort that shifts the gray matter around in a horrifyingly Crichton-esque fashion.

Continue reading The Faint Scent of Brimstone with Notes of Sulfur