Prepare yourself for the tsunami of runny shite about to crest and break across the anglosphere. Ya can run but ya can't hide. It probably won't kill you but it'll get in your hair, eyes, clothes, ears, nostrils, mouth, bed, shoes, socks, underpants, and brain. People you've known for years and would trust with your life will succumb, and you won't be able to tell who's clean and who's been tainted.
Yes, like in Invasion of the Body Snatchers. I recommend you begin stockpiling those white SARS facemasks now - it's doubtful they'll be of much help but this is not a time to be taking chances.
Just two hours ago in Northland "Safeway" (that name is so not appropriate) I uncovered evidence that the food is contaminated. The germs are airborne you know. Direct contact is not necessary.
Five reasons The Da Vinci Code is a bucket of arse:
1. "Pretentious and illiterate verbal sludge"
A.D. Hope thought Patrick White was a hopeless case; luckily for Hope he passed away before Dan Brown arrived to besmirch everybody's eyeballs with "writing" like this:
“Do you approve?” Fache asked, nodding upwards with his broad chin. Langdon sighed, too tired to play games. “Yes, your pyramid is magnificent.” Fache grunted. “A scar on the face of Paris.”
Strike one. Langdon sensed his host was a hard man to please. He wondered if Fache had any idea that the pyramid, at President Mitterand's explicit demand, had been constructed of exactly 666 panes of glass - a bizarre request that had always been a hot topic among conspiracy buffs who claimed 666 was the number of Satan.
* * *
Sophie sensed a rising air of academic anticipation now in both of her male companions.
* * *
The Tarot indicator suit for divine femininity is pentacles, Langdon thought, realising that if Sauniere had been stacking his granddaughter's deck for fun, pentacles was an apropos inside joke.
* * *
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