Last time I was gonna by blades at the local store was about 10 years ago. I was sufficiently miffed at the corporatocracy’s price skimming and gouging that I hopped on the intertubes and bought about $20 worth of twin- or triple-blade cartridges from India. And there will likely be inventory on hand when I die.

Colonel Flatulence doesn’t have any friends.

There are so many platforms anymore that I have neither the time nor desire to keep up with even a quarter of them. So maybe eight years back, a friend suggests I check out Snap Chat.

I jump on there to find about 20 pages of names of people who thought it was okay, acceptable, to share my info from their database. I’ve always been very careful and discreet with mine. But to have it thrown right in my face like that, whew. Here’s my message to those folks:

If you think it’s okay to share my private number, or anything else I’ve provided in confidence, with the planet, please delete my number.