You know, by now, we should all be eating pills, wearing tinfoil suits, and communicating by telepathy with jet-powered rocket pants to get us to work. But where has the future gone? At one time, it was a familiar place, a somewhat sterile place, admittedly, but one introduced by Judith Hann and Howard Stableford, with CD's smeared with jam and disposable paper clothes. Paper outfits - they scared me. A paper cut is bad enough on my finger, never mind on my old boy. But I digress. I miss the future. The thing is, 'the year 2000' still sounds like the future. New, and exciting. But 2000 was 6 years ago, and from my personal experience, was a bit pants. But for now, I shall resort to experimenting with home made prozac. The actual recipie is a closely guarded secret, but it involves chocolate. Mmmmm.