Well, hello there, friends. And hello to you, enemies.

Friends of my enemies, and enemies of my friends.

Friends of my friends, and, the most exciting group of all, enemies of my enemies.

Whoever you are, I don't mind. Come one; come all.

You can speak your mind here at Neopoleon, and you may do so without fear of ridicule, provided the following conditions are met:

1. You click on the ads

2. What you say isn't totally effing retarded

I come before you today to pick up where I left off last week on the subject of consciousness. Some among you might be disappointed that it's nearly Wednesday, and I said I'd have Part Two posted sometime during the weekend (specifically, the weekend that's currently over, and which will continue to remain over unless the Laws of Physics get a cool new time-traveling set of amendments).

The explanation - like the subject of consciousness - is very simple. If you squint when you read what I write, and if you can slant your head just perfectly, a subtext not immediately obvious in the previous post becomes clear:

I lied.

Although I had every intention of making good on my promise (there I go with the lying again), I got distracted by some of the offerings I found on Xbox Live this past Saturday. It had been a while since I'd taken a look around the ol' marketplace, and I found something which suited my fancy.

Since Stargate SG-1 has been taken off the air, thereby leaving me stranded without any form of birth control (women won't come near me when I'm watching a show as stupid as that), I took action to once again protect myself from the savage throngs of Amazons beating down my door, invading my home, getting on their tan and oiled hands and knees, and begging that I impregnate the lot of them. A fate too gruesome to imagine (although, for some reason, fantasizing about it isn't so tough).

I found it. I found the new Woman Barrier in my life. So long as I continue to watch this, the most recent of my nerdly acquisitions, I should be free from unwanted and distasteful offers of sexual congress.

The new barrier, my peeps, is Enterprise - the Star Trek show that, much like Stargate, got yanked off the air when, on a scale of one to ten, it scored infinity on the gay-o-meter. I'm watching it because, as I've noted, I don't have anymore Stargate, and also because it's available in High Definition from Xbox Live. HD content is so bloody rare that I'd pay to watch colonoscopies if I could get them in 720p (with 5.1 surround).

(Note: That was just hyperbole for the sake of making a point. Please don't start sending me videos of colonoscopies again.)

Aside from having what is possibly the worst theme song ever written in the entire universe, including all songs that haven't been written yet, it's a good show. It's a pity our little planet's going to get exploded by some pissed off aliens who want us to stop polluting the galactic airwaves with that shit music, but everybody makes mistakes from time to time. Yeah, most of those mistakes don't get an entire planet incinerated by angry ETs who can't sleep (or not repeatedly vomit) because of all the effing noise, but you or I easily could have made the same mistake (provided you or I had three quarters of our brains scooped out and fried before we went to work on the offending song that is the topic of this paragraph).

I have to get back to Enterprise now. I'm about to watch the 33rd episode I've seen since Friday.

I'll be back soon enough with all my deep thoughts on consciousness.

But first... I have a theme song to fast-forward through.