Two nights in a row I had dreams about attending balls. The first dream had me hanging out with Count Pyotr Andreyevich Tolstoy in 1700s. This is pretty easy to explain -- I am reading a book about the Tolstoys.

This morning I had another dream, where I was at a Newscorp ball at the Hilton and talked to Rupert Murdoch. He completely agreed with all the things that I proposed to be done at TV Guide and I woke up very pleased with myself.

In the tradition of The Sneeze, which runs "What May It Be", I present my own version:

Before your fill my blog with indecent comments, I quickly present the answer: it's Billionaire Tyrant's upper bridge of the nose, as photographed by Platon for Wired Magazine article "His Space."

Using harsh lighting that brings out every wrinkle is a cheap trick, Platon. I might just be jealous because nobody lets me take magazine cover photos, but if I did, I'd probably come up with something other than "face closeup", "three quarter turn from below" and "sit your model down and take a picture from crotch level".

Today my friend Elro of Elro.com sent me a promotional clip that his company made. A "Pixar" snuff cartoon. Yes, yes. Disney Corporation (which I think Pixar now owns) will be very glad to see this.

While I am on the subject of pissing off big corporations that could easily have me disappeared, I keep hearing this joke about Disney employees. Apparently after they got a memo telling them to stop referring to the House of Mouse as "Mouseschwitz", they quickly started calling it "Duckhau". Does anyone know what the source of this is?

And while Walt Disney is rumoured to be a secret Nazi, you'll never guess who this is about:

"He added an an extraordinary postscript, written in magenta ink, reaffirming his loyalty to Lenin. "Yesterday was the 29th anniversary of the Great Teacher. We stood to attention for one minute in front of THE BUST on the mantelpiece and drank several toasts-and then settled down to some good reading of adulatory Russian poetry.""

Believe it or not, it's the Billionaire Tyrant himself. The quote is from Murdoch: Revised and Updated, page 38. Picturing Rupert reading "adulatory Russian poetry" brings a tear in my eye :)