Ah, Valentine’s Day. My absolute favourite time of year.
The flowers, the glassy-eyed couples parading themselves down boulevards, the ACHING DISAPPOINTMENT OF BEING FORGOTTEN ENTIRELY.
Yes. It’s a charming time of year. And no more so than back in 2007 when the unrequited love of my life, Sir Richard Branson, gallantly put up a $US25 million prize for the scientist who could come up with a way of extracting greenhouse gasses from the atmosphere.
Who won? We don’t know yet. They’re still considering a longlist after all this time. Obviously Mr Branson takes his time when it comes to love (I’m ready when you are Sir Richard.)
Meanwhile, in a love that went nowhere very quickly, Rupert Murdoch said of his newest crush: “Myspace is the big star at the moment. I see tremendous growth in it and it being a very big profit driver for the overall company in the coming years.”
Famously, that never happened, and Murdoch sold it a few years later for $US35 million. He’d paid $US580m for it.
Ouch, love hurts.
Be Smart,
Aunty B
The plural of gas is gases. (Gasses is a verb). Branson is a synthetic image invented by his PR department. His brain stopped working years ago.
And, what’s your excuse?