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Monday. An upsetting “police incident” in the central business district (someone got squashed by a bus). I was going to complain about the way the rozzers parked parked their cars in the middle of the road around the scene, causing a bit of chaos for all the people trying to wait for other buses in a physically distanced manner, but what do I know. Television dramas sometimes suggest that only the most incompetent cops are chosen for “directing traffic”, but that’s got to be specious nonsense.
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Some parcel receiving and sending. At last, a use for all the bubblewap I’ve hoarded over the past several months. Hooray for parcel postboxes, and ✊ solidarity with the post office, Royal Mail and other courier company workers, although I know you can’t feed your family with solidarity. And a big 👎 to anyone complaining to corporate Twitter accounts about, say, waiting 100 hours for a “special delivery 48” – maybe some anger at the penny-pinching beancounters is warranted, but you know there’s a pandemic on?
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Some work. Got rid of Google Analytics – after years and years, I’ve finally learnt how to use the interface a bit, but hello “sunk cost fallacy” – in favour of Cloudflare’s “privacy-first, lightweight, accurate” alternative. I can’t be really smug about how I’m respecting my users’ privacy and not setting any unneccesary cookies, because I’m still relying on nasty programmatic ads to pay for everything, but what do you expect me to do about that?
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My cultural highlight of the week was the live stream (with a one year delay) of Jimbo Acaster’s Cold Lasagne Hate Myself 1999. Might be the best thing the talented boy has ever done.
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Wagwan pandem.
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I lost it when the grand doofus said “NERVTAG” (which is the acronym of the New and Emerging Respiratory Virus Threats Group).
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My Christmas plans – overnighting for some nights with a “support bubble”, no extended Christmas bubble – remain legal, which is something and shows that we had some sensible foresight, well done us.
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