For the last four days, my hosting service (Hostsave.com) has been under a Denial of Service attack (DOS), resulting in the unavailability of this blog and my entire website. At less than eight dollars a month, Hostsave was a pretty good deal, until I factored in the downtime from technical issues, such as the DOS attack. That, coupled with their sad excuse for tech support and customer service, led me to seek out hosting elsewhere. So, in the next few days, my site will be migrated over to another host, and we'll see what comes of it.

We're going to check out the latest Jim Carrey movie today. I normally don't waste time with his brand of humor, but I am up for a laugh, and one reviewer (Joel Siegel - GMA) promised a few laughs over the silliness that the film offers. If nothing else, it's 100 minutes of air conditioning for nine bucks.

I'd like to spend a little time pouring over my thoughts regarding my part-time job, but out of reluctance to expose my employer and my desperation for a regular pay check, I probably won't say much, at all. I can only bring myself to say that I work some odd hours for very low pay, no benefits, alongside some pretty smug illiterates. Ahhh. That felt good! I think that it was Norman Maillor (sp?) who said that the very worst writers in the world work for the local newspapers. I have seen that first-hand. I would also add that the same can be said for the quality of writing for local television. Of course, one must give consideration to the pay rates that are available for such jobs. If a company wants writers who have a command of the English language and a penchant for manipulating grammar in such a manner as to portray the news of local events in an interesting and insightful way, but will only pay slave wages, it's like putting out garbage on your doorstep, in the hope of attracting a champion show dog. It's just not going to happen! I don't suppose that it's the fault of the writers that their drivel finds its way to television sets -- it's the fault of the broadcast company that won't pay for real talent. Yes -- I think that's it. I'll simply pity the poor writer and damn the slave driver who draws his blood to ink the pages that make for better catbox lining than for reading material. Damn, that felt good!

Okay, on to the pictures we go.