Facebook is making some very drastic improvements.

Have a look at this screen-cap from my adventures on Facebook last night (you'll have to click on it to see it all). How I got to a Tim Westwood-hate group, I'm not sure. But whatever. Have a look. You may notice a few things are a bit wrong. If you have not noticed, then it's okay, because I am going to point them out to you. You simpleton.

1) It's a group that is hating on Tim Westwood. Why is this? Tim Westwood is awesome. In his own ...special way.

2) I'm learning to play a Kings of Leon song on guitar. This would seem more odd a few days ago, before I realised their latest album is actually quite good.

3) I haven't censored out the names of the people who are on display in this screen-capture. You're supposed to. NOW PEOPLE MIGHT DO EVIL THINGS!?!?!?

In all probability, you probably didn't take note of these things. But, there is a chance that you noticed the fourth thing that is, well, wrong. Look at the time that Mr. Spencer posted his semi-well-written but potentially offensive comment. 12.41am...

...tomorrow?

It would appear Facebook can predict the future. And why, of all the websites on the Internets, has Facebook been bestowed with this power? Well, why not? Imagine how awesome it will be when this power is fully realised. You'll be able to tell your future, your friend's future, your enemy's future...hell, if Barack Obama gets a Facebook, you'll be able to pinpoint the date of his assassination (let's face it; he will probably be assassinated sometime in the coming year. As horrible as it is and as big a shame as it will be, I think it will be extremely likely that he will be assassinated. Mind you, he can't as hated as George Bush, and he seemed to do fine, I don't think he was even assassinated once).

Anyway, as I didn't deliver a beautiful piece of poetry yesterday (which I'm sure crushed many of you), I decided I would write one for you all tonight. I'm going to use the 'Random Article' function of Wikipedia to help me pick a subject.

Low Brass
Oh, low brass, low brass, low brass.
I have no rhymes for you in my head.
So I'll give up on this poem here,
And listen to some P!nk instead.

M!ssundaztood. It's a fucking brilliant album, kids.