kidnapped again

The fucker won't give up. This time I had no toothbrush, and anyway Macaulay kept his distance and left me in a basement with a few masked goons to watch over me, so I had to think "outside the box." Remembering the Bogus Journey, I decided that if I ever at any point in the future gain access to a time machine, I'll be sure to go back in time and figure out a way to leave a gun for myself in the corner of the room where they'd thrown me. Well, amazing though it may seem, a gun was waiting for me right there, which is really doubly great: first of all, it meant I was able to get out without breaking a sweat, and second of all, it means that at some point in the future I'm going to gain access to a time machine!

In other news, I just can't get rid of Thom Yorke. Isn't Radiohead immensely popular, both among critics and citizens? Don't they have a huge fan base? Didn't they sell out Giants Stadium within five seconds of Ticketmaster's opening the metaphorical floodgates? So then somebody please explain to me why Thom was so excited when I told him I liked OK Computer. I didn't even use particularly strong language: I just said, "That's a really great album," and now the guy wants to follow me around all the time and talk about it and be my best friend. I'm like, Jesus, you're a nice guy and everything and I like your music, but leave me the fuck alone! Biz and I ended up ditching him at Via Quadronno this afternoon when he went to use the bathroom...

Not sure yet what to do about all the Macaulay business—unclear so far what the hell he wants. I sent him an e-mail about it and got an auto-response that consisted entirely of a long excerpt of some Socratic dialogue, followed by a line from Short Circuit ("Can you triangulate your position, Howard?"). At this point I'm thinking he's just lost his mind. Next time I'm prepared. Seriously.