I requested that all birthday gifts be handed over at dinner, so I was worried when Ptichka held something behind her back this morning and told me put out a hand. I want something to look forward to this evening, besides this blasted day finally being over. It wasn't gift. Really. Well, it was a gift of sorts. Beginning on 15 August, Robert Rabinovitch hadn't just locked out 5500 CBC employees, he had also locked in my Millenium Hip Hop Party. You don't realize what a vital part of your life "Jump Around" is until some asshole in a suit locks it away somewhere where you can't get at it.

I'm taking a break from the horror that is my current dissertation chapter to listen to "Jump Around" on repeat. Next break, I think that the song of choice will be "Can't Touch This."

As for Rabinovitch, he's "sorry" but won't resign from his current position as the driving force grinding the CBC into so much irrelevant dust because "There's always going to be tension between the suits and ... the journalists." No shit, he actually said that. I also love the picture used in the story. I think it's supposed to Rabinovitch looking into the great shining future but he really just looks kind of assholish. I think that it's time to write another letter to the Heritage minister.


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