I've been a fan of Russell's for years, and lucky enough to call him a friend from the day Tom Tomorrow noticed that Russell's book about Doctor Who contained a completely unexpected bit of praise for my Prisoner of Trebekistan, of all things. I contacted Russell to say thanks, he emailed back in about ten seconds, because he's that cool and gracious, and it's been hooray ever since.

The animated webseries that goes with Miracle Day, Torchwood: Web of Lies is also pretty damn good. And I'm happy to say I have a tiny, tiny part in it — playing Eliza Dushku's brother. Although in cartoon form, I look like this:

I gotta lay off the caffeine.

I've only had one human-hands pedicure to compare this to, but this was every bit as efficient.  And way, way ookier.

The way they're electrifying the country now is, well, electrifying. But the way the sign is phrased, I couldn't help but imagine they had these big tubs of the stuff sitting around on shelves.

You come in, maybe carrying a cardboard box or a plastic bag, and they pour you a bunch, with lots of little sparks dripping down the sides, and you go on your way.

I'll say here what I've said all along: when you're playing at million-dollar tournament level, all of the players know (or can rapidly figure out) nearly all of the correct responses, no matter how arcane. Trust me, I've been there.

IBM wouldn't unveil their computer unless they were sure it would function similarly. 

Ultimately, the difference between winning or losing usually comes down just to the ability to time the milliseconds between the time Alex finishes the clue and one of the producers activates the signaling devices.

Since a computer can obviously react more rapidly and consistently than a human can, it will probably win unless it is programmed to have a human-like random delay of a few milliseconds before hitting the buzzer.

Judging from news reports about the warm-up game, the computer has no such delay, and can buzz in instantly.

So that's the computer's advantage: not knowledge, not processing speed, not math or game strategy… just reflexes. And so unless the buzzer-response is programmed differently in the games that count, I think the computer is likely to win.

Brad and Ken will both be still a heck of a lot more fun to hang out with after the game, though.

(Full disclosure: Brad and Ken are both friends of mine, so I have some emotional interest in seeing them do well against the cyborg. Also, I was invited to play the computer in its last warm-up round, but I couldn't make it since I was still getting over the typhoid I picked up in Tanzania. Y'know, as always, my life is so boring…)

And we're only on page 3.

Well, dang.

Next, watch for aliens, ghosts, demons, alien ghost demons, and exposition shots of Philadelphia.

In four months, there will be a surprise twist that is not remotely surprising.

It will either be (a) our environmental regulations are too lax, or (b) we all actually died during the Bush administration, and the last two years have been a collective hallucination inside Mel Gibson's head.

Sometimes, watching the news, it all feels way too much like (b) anyway.

Dude, do you really want me to taste your wall paint?

If not, why are you advertising it to look like lemon custard?

Besides, 1997 was awesome, at least when it was still the future. In sci-fi, 1997 was when HAL 9000 was activated, the Jupiter II launched, Skynet blew up mankind, V began his Vendetta, and Snake Plissken escaped from New York. All in the same year.

How did I not notice all that? I must have been busy doing my radio stuff the whole time. Man, that was a great year. Except for the complete destruction of mankind.

On the other side of this secreted nook, porcivorous heathens creep around in the darkness, lusting after taboo bits of flesh, while the righteous avert their eyes.

Change just one letter, and it's oddly like the back of magazine shops before the internet.

(Btw, the red-white-and-blue color scheme made it feel weirdly like an Arabian Kroger.)

Because, y'know, an actual door would be so much less exciting.

I hoped that inside there would be a big pull-tab, like on a can of Spam, but no luck.