When I posted that jokey one-liner yesterday about the ridiculousness of Madonna lecturing me about saving the environment, I knew her blather was typical celebrity hypocrisy.  I didn't realise just how bad she is though.  Thanks Madge.  Go steal another kid from the third world. 

(Of course, we live in a world where even "celebrity-as-saviour" official spokesman, Bono allows his business manager to use tax dodges so money doesn't go to the very governments he's lobbying to eliminate third-world debt.  So what can you do?  Just keep breathing is my best advice.)

I didn't do much about the July 7, 2007 (777) hype.  I know there were lots of weddings (and c-sections!) and other milestone type events planned for yesterday.  And I know casinos expected to be extremely busy.  But it took me until today to realise that Pace was seven weeks old yesterday.  So there's another happy, lucky coincidence! 

Oh, and awhile back, I wrote about a book called "The Poo Bomb" that was originally an Internet column.  The full contents of the book are back up - I think because the hard copy version is now remaindered.  The entry for Week 7 was eerily familiar:

"We just got one of those electronic swing things. You know? Those things you put the baby in, and a little battery powered motor rocks it until it quiets down, simultaneously hypnotizing it into submission and churning the contents of its diapers into a frothing poo milkshake? Those things?

They're great. It feels like cheating.

Whenever our little fusspot is fed, burped, changed, and otherwise cared for in every way the law requires, and she's still fussing/whining/screaming/being heavy, we put her into the device one of our friends aptly named "The Neglectomatic." And it rocks her worries away.

I now know exactly how long it takes for a thought to develop in our baby's tiny, tiny brain: 1 minute. You can watch the process as she swings back and forth. The motion empties her brain of her concerns, and then you can watch them creep back, the new expression creeping over her face like the skin on a bowl of pudding, until she has fully decided what is bothering her. Then you can watch as the Neglectomatic shakes the thought out of her brain, like rolling a marble out of a hole in the bottom of a coffee can. And she's sedate for another minute."