Drug lords develop high-yield coca plant: “Colombian drug cartels have developed a new strain of coca plant that yields up to four times more cocaine, dealing a setback to a campaign against production of the drug that was beginning to show results.”

Final proof that GM crops are bad for you, with the added bonus that they may lead to the U.S. napalming large areas of your farmland and funding right-wing paramilitaries which is somehow equated with a war on drugs… mmm…

Thatcher in balls munchies shocker: “opponents of despotic President Teodoro Obiang Nguema, claim he eats the testicles of executed prisoners in the belief that it boosts his sex life.”

Nguema, Thatcher, and example testicles (a cat’s).

Bad luck for ‘Sir’ Mark Thatcher, in that the dictator he may have been involved in over-throwing has a taste for prisoners’ balls; also an indication that there may have been justification in the coup attempt.

How exactly did the arms-running son of Margaret “Sink the Belgrano” Thatcher end up a knight? If, as I suspect, it is to do with her being a Baroness leading to her heir automatically acquiring the title, then isn’t it an indicator that something needs to be done about our honours system? An honours system that honours only politicians, rich businessmen, civil servants, and their kin, and throws at most an occasional mediocre MBE to the public services that deserve our congratulation. (Though if I talked about them, we’d be forced to bitch about them too…)

Ho hum; I just spent four days sat in a hotel conference room in Slough with five other lads. To disabuse you of the glories of PC games journalism, there’s no quicker way than to point to the horrors of four days of young lives poured into a computer, producing nothing, relaxing in no way, but both compulsive and entertaining. For me games are a guilty pleasure, something not helped by my job; it seems expected that when I review a game, I do it in my own time, which I see as just unreasonable. I’m quite happy to work overtime occasionally, as my contract states, but that would institute it as part of my (already limited) free time.

Anyway, I got back into the office, and the atmosphere was poison. Alec had nicely warned me that bad stuff had been happening, but the place just felt like a fight had just finished and that I’d better keep shtumm unless I wanted to kick off a new one myself.

Moreover, I’d forgotten it was the bank holiday, and I’ve failed to organise anything, again. I’m terrified now, as I realised last weekend that I’ve lost touch with some of my favourite people from home and from university, and others I’ve been downright rude to. If any of you are reading, I apologise; get in touch. I’ll *try* and do the same.

Yahoo! News – Revenge Really Is Sweet, Study Shows: “‘After squeezing back the intruder, you can’t help but notice a smile creep onto your face,’ Knutson wrote in a commentary.

That instinct probably evolved to grease the wheels of human social interaction, the researchers said.

‘For thousands of years, human societies did not have the modern institutions of law enforcement — impartial police and impartial judges that ensure the punishment of norm violations such as cheating in an economic exchange, for example,’ they wrote.

‘Thus, social norms had to be enforced by other measures, and private sanctions were one of these means.'”