I notice that the ads, like some kind of aggressive invading force, have found my websites. I wonder, idly, whether or not there might be any point in moving the whole shebang since other than paying for the privilege of ad-freedom, I can only imagine the situation is going to get worse. Make no mistake: I do not judge Russian Girls for attempting to find Dates, or Mates, even, particuarly if their lives hold little hope for them as things stand. I’m also guilty of having clicked on a potential Amazon Affiliates programme. I’m a pragmatist when it comes to Amazon: I don’t like the model in principle, because it carries all the hallmarks of any organisation that swallows all its smaller potential rivals and closes down interesting little bookshops. Then it fronts the popular, the cheerful, the bright and the branded and allows the niche market, the poets and philosophers (yes, Hello), to wither. Or perhaps it was ever thus. Anyhow, I will not be signing as an affiliate yet. It is part of the condition of being overly thoughtful (a characteristic that combines ill with my other vulnerability – a lack of self-respect) that potential opportunities are prodded and poked and scoured for association with greed, pollution, slavery, explicit cruelty to animals, destruction of fragile habitats , and the like. Unfortunately, that doesn’t leave much for my ilk to be going along with. Luck has kept me afloat so far but I’m reasonably atraid. After all, even Peter Singer, a huge influence on my undergraduate thinking, has admitted that he does not live as frugally as his philosophy advises. I’m no ideologue, but walking the tightrope between despair and destitution is challenging, particularly when you have involuntary accomplices, dependents who did not have a say in living like this and don’t have any qualms about eating a Big Mac or subscribing to X-Box live. Ah, well. Sun’s out. Must run.