Getting to know your own Pavement

Now, I did have some fascinating rumination to slap down here, like a hated fish, but its clean gone. Oooh, hang on, it returns. Yes, thats the bunny. I was thinking, as I have this horrible habit forming tendancy to do so, that as we look upon old people with their crazy old fashioned ways, such as cashing cheques (and their corresponding fear of the debit card) wearing those jumpers with diamonds on them (not in the bling sense obviously. Did you know that could well be the first time I used the word bling ever? IN written texT) and driving those mobile things that really freak me out. I think; what shall be the habits of our generation that become outmoded, frowned upon, laughed at and driven off the high street into specialist shops manned by, well, old men. One, I have decided, is the humble cd. Not just the format itself but the very act of spending money on an actual tactile thing will become passe. Because as it all stands now, although with access to the internet and al its crazy downloading things, I still have to buy cds because I want to. This will perish, eventually, along with nostalgia for bloody eighties cartoons which weren't very good (guys, lets face it, it was all a sack of shite aimed at the brains of children. It wasn't subversive, it was just, sometimes, slow and friendly, and not in your face and shite like today. The point being, it was our shite, shite we had grown up with. SO we love it. Just don't read too much into it. The same people who drool over transformers (blah blah blah) would baulk at anime, so kiss it. Fashion junkie loosebag heathens.
Also, for those of you who would dabble, I recently sidled over to www.potatoe.com for a gander at the messageboard. Guess what? The often abused, hated and downright feared 'Is Eilijah gay etc' message is back again at the top of the popular charts. It just bothers me a little, that out of all the varied and less tedious strings this illustrious board has to offer, this is the most hit upon by chance by mild surfers. I do despair, quietly and constantly.