We’ve long found Ford tedious, precious, annoying, but this bit redeems just about everything. On the misuse of the phrase “guilty pleasure:”

[But] Justin Timberlake is not a guilty pleasure. Putting oven cleaner in your daughter’s Similac is a guilty pleasure, or smearing birdseed on your balls and visiting an aviary. Having a thing for Sting’s lutework —

Goddammit. As I was drafting this my web server, which resides in Texas, was hacked into by Spaniards. Spamming Spaniards, or at least someone coming in through a machine in Spain. Off I go to set up a new, clean, new device that will present more of a challenge to intruders.