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This is is the greatest and best diary entry in the world's tribute.
On 2003-02-14 at 2:36 a.m.... A friend of mine is going to walk on fire for some girl tomorrow. Pah! I, meanwhile, remain in a state of what seems to be terminal unbonkability. I think it's the hair. Or the hatred of all mankind. One of the two. Call me Hippy McTree-Dweller, but all this heightened terror alert business seems a bit like bollocks. I mean, it's essentially doing the (phantom) terrorists' work for them, without anyone actually having to put any effort in, and nobody being massacred. So I suppose everybody wins: nobody gets blown up, while the baddies achieve at least part of their political mandate, because everyone's paying attention to them. Oh, and if we're all scared, then we'll be more likely to support a war. Not that popular opinion matters, but still. (Bit drunk.) I like to imagine the one on the left saying "I hate you."
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