On Central American Time Until Further Notice: A Ghost in the Machine
I arrived home from an out-of-town assignation with my fiancée to find my computer had mysteriously reset itself to the Central American GMT time zone. I have no logical explanation for this. It is spooky. One can only assume this is some kind of portent that I am disinclined to mess around with.
As a result, the rest of the day I will wear espadrilles, eat plantains and extol the virtues of the Pan-American highway. No Che tee-shirts, however. You have to draw the fucking line somewhere with these computer ghosts.