Monday, December 10, 2007

A lot to catch up on....

...but first, I was pointed this Craigslist post that I think encapsulates the internet--and perhaps the current humor zeigeist--as well as I could possibly imagine.

Survival Of The Fittest
Date: 2007-08-30, 2:03PM EDT


Whenever I get a package of plain M&Ms, I make it my duty to continue the strength and robustness of the candy as a species. To this end, I hold M&M duels.

Taking two candies between my thumb and forefinger, I apply pressure, squeezing them together until one of them cracks and splinters. That is the "loser," and I eat the inferior one immediately. The winner gets to go another round.

I have found that, in general, the brown and red M&Ms are tougher, and the newer blue ones are genetically inferior. I have hypothesized that the blue M&Ms as a race cannot survive long in the intense theater of competition that is the modern candy and snack-food world.

Occasionally I will get a mutation, a candy that is misshapen, or pointier, or flatter than the rest. Almost invariably this proves to be a weakness, but on very rare occasions it gives the candy extra strength. In this way, the species continues to adapt to its environment.

When I reach the end of the pack, I am left with one M&M, the strongest of the herd. Since it would make no sense to eat this one as well, I pack it neatly in an envelope and send it to M&M Mars, A Division of Mars, Inc., Hackettstown, NJ 17840-1503 U.S.A., along with a 3x5 card reading, "Please use this M&M for breeding purposes."

This week they wrote back to thank me, and sent me a coupon for a free 1/2 pound bag of plain M&Ms. I consider this "grant money." I have set aside the weekend for a grand tournament. From a field of hundreds, we will discover the True Champion.

There can be only one.


  • it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 409930561

Saturday, September 22, 2007

Twiddlin thumbs.

Just sitting here, hurdling towards thirty. Late Friday night.

Twiddling my thumbs.

Monday, September 10, 2007

Heavyweights.


Just a quick note, since I haven't updated in a while.

I LOVE MY TEAM.

and they deserve love.

Thursday, July 26, 2007

More tales from the office


Fantastic e-mail quote of the day regarding fantasy football league from our resident scholar aesthete Will:

I joined, made no trades or adjustments to my roster, and still did just fine. That was the point. Fantasy Football is a crap shoot, a chance game like Roulette, except the randomizing element is the health, drug addiction, and extracurricular dog-fighting that cripples the idols of Mammon that you worship.

But I'll play if you'll stop being mean to me.

________________________________________

And finally, as part of my office manager duties, I bring you an example of a new employee introduction, such as I write on the first day someone is here and send to the office. Welcome to the company.
________________________________________

*new employee alert*

The last few entries in the diary of Cary Collins, Jan 2nd, 1999.

Morning

It’s supposed to be July 23rd 1923, but it surely doesn’t feel like it. Brendan, diva that he is, is chugging his 2nd bottle of Cristal while we all wait for him to get his nails done. Vosloo’s head is pouring sweat and makeup they caked on it about an hour ago. This goddamned desert sun is breaking my spirit, as I find myself giving my all as Jonathan Carnahan. Brendan, that fop, he’s basically dialing it in nowadays after his agent negotiated the deal and all the contract riders following Airheads. This is the second role he’s stolen right out from underneath me!

At least Rachel’s wearing one of those thin white linen tops…how I long for her darling accent.

Afternoon

Brendan, drunk as a skunk, hid on set wearing nothing but toilet paper. As we all fanned out looking for him, I’m appalled to say that poor Rachel, darling Rachel, nearly had a heart attack as he jumped out and grabbed her, screaming “I’m The Mummy!!! Unravel me!!!!”. Luckily I was there to catch her fainting body… The guys we hired locally to move the giant set pieces and carry Brendan back and forth on a raised throne, promptly handed in their resignations. Eagle-eagle-snake-cat-river. Strong words indeed.

Evening

Another day’s shooting behind us. I’ve probably found at least a pound of sand in my nether region, rushed there by the angry winds that surround our shooting location. Patricia, the actress who’s playing Anck Su Namun, has succumbed to what we on-set have called “The Mummy’s Curse”—Fraser’s Condyloma. I stole myself into Brendan’s RV today and found the script to Monkey Bone. The writing is incredible, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it’s really a clever metaphor for his personal life.

My sweet sweet Rachel calls to me in my dreams, I must attend her.

Jan 3rd, 1999.

Morning

We finished off the last few scenes this morning. Brendan’s taking to wearing a leather jacket and matching hat, cracking a whip and dragging himself beneath a Nazi troop transport truck. He betrays the spirit that is Harrison Ford and Sam Spiro. He disgusts me.

Afternoon

I was in Four Weddings and a Funeral! I delivered Auden with the best of them! Now I play second fiddle to George of the Jungle?!

We traveled to visit the Sphinx today, as a thank you gift from the producer. Throughout the whole ride Brendan was regaling us with stories of the parties he had with “Sean and Pauly” after Encino Man. As if he knows them that well! Hookers and blow. Blow and hookers. Same ol’ same ol’. I perform Shakespeare on my Saturday nights at the community theater!

Night

I saw Rachel and Brendan kiss today. My Rachel. My sweet, Princess Nefertiri. I must do something. This must stop!

Jan 4th, 1999.

If you are reading this you know it has come to pass. Either I will have slain the beast that is Fraser or he will have bested me. I could not live a day longer living in his shadow. In either case I am through with acting, my one great love besides Rachel. I hold no misconceptions in my heart that she will rush into my arms like she should, a woman with her grace and power could not settle for Hugh Grant’s eternal second fiddle.

What shall I yearn for? What to do with the rest of my life? Some of the gents at ILM have suggested that they’d support me in my assassination attempt—make it look like he’d been swallowed in a sandstorm. If I fail, they promised to get me a job in programming. Either way, this is my last journal entry for a long while. Wish me luck as I face the monstrous Brendan—fully determined and with righteousness on my side!

[The following was found inserted in the diary, with the caption “The metaphor of a love triangle”]

CaryCollins.jpg

Please join with me in welcoming the real Cary Collins (who strangely resembles actor John Hannah). He’s one of the Workshop Candidates (programming) for the World of Darkness MMO, and will be situated betwixt Orrin and Chris, in what I hope isn’t a new love triangle.

Thursday, July 05, 2007

Icky Thumpin'

Get in your car.
Go to the record store.
Don't delay.
Do not dally.
Do not lollygag.
Do not hesitate.
If you need to pee first, just go in your pants.
If you need to get gas first, then just run.
If you don't have the money, come borrow it from me.

Go forth and purchase the White Stripes new album, "Icky Thump".
Trust me.
I don't lie about music.
This album is good.
It rocks my face off.
It'll rock yours off too.

Monday, July 02, 2007

The season begins.

A charge from peers---but more internal than anything.

Thanks to my team for an awesome SMUT.

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Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Game paradigms....

I work for a gaming company. Well, sorta multiple gaming companies. What goes into designing and maintaining a game? Here's a taste--interview portion from Slashdot with our CMO. It's why I think people at my company are pretty darn smart. That's not so I can get a gold star on my report card neither!


Slashdot: Yeah, um, so you in your estimation the fact that it's not more like a World of Warcraft, where death is not really a big deal, you guys see that as a definite strength for the game?

Magnus: Absolutely. The reason that people team up in corporations and then corporations team up in alliances is because there is this inherent big threat of dying and losing a lot of money. You can lose months of work in 30 seconds, and this forces people because of human nature, to band together and form relationships. I'm saving somebody's life, saving their three, four, five, six months of work, so you create very strong relationships, where you don't have an opportunity in real life to rescue your friends from death.

Slashdot: Right, hopefully.

Magnus: Yeah, hopefully, but you get to do that on a daily basis. And that's what creates these really strong feelings, the really strong relationships, that are such a big part of this game. And because it's so totally open ended, so totally different from a game like World of Warcraft, which is a really structured game experience. A great game, but it's just different. So when people have done that type of game, it's kind of a natural progression for them to step into something that's heavier and deeper, and more rewarding in the end.

Thursday, May 10, 2007

Quote of the month.

The quote of the month is courtesy of VoidTyger, a hero on City of Heroes.

"Willie Nelson is who Chuck Norris would be
if Chuck Norris lead a hard life."


Word.

Tuesday, May 08, 2007

When two paths collide

Path: The First

I'm searching websites of colleges in the south east for professorial contacts that we can use to cull some raw, young talent for programming positions and internships opening up at my company. My first stop is Georgia Tech. Knowing many graduates through ultimate (Mr. Parham, Suckit Parag, Mati Heartpower, etc...) and how capable and smart (read as: "perfect dork-company material") they were, I was feeling good about my chances.

Then I stumble upon this text in their School of Interactive Computing writeup.

Much of the research within the School of Interactive Computing produces new artifacts that embody new capabilities or methods. Examples include:

  • Individuals working with traditional computers
  • Groups of people using ubiquitous computing capabilities throughout various environments
  • Researchers visualizing scientific data
  • Students developing and altering middle school physics simulations
  • Automated intelligent surveillance systems monitoring airport tarmacs
  • Robots delivering pharmaceuticals to patients in hospitals
OK, so it wasn't bolded and enlarged before. But it needs to be. I mean seriously. Just think for a second about that.


Path: The Second

I was disturbed by my immediate "free associations" as fleeting thoughts invaded my head. First Cheech Marin in scrubs. Then Nurse Ratched shooting lasers out of her eyes. Finally Patch Adams' head coming unhinged in a smoky, sparking flash to reveal various multicolored wires underneath. I was a little disappointed I didn't immediately get Johnny 5 with a stethoscope.

Of course, my immediate response to the shame of my overactive imagination was to find someone else out there like me. Will anyone understand me? Who am I?

It's clear from a quick search through Google Images that indeed, someone somewhere has thought long and hard about the idea of robot doctors.




And so two paths converge in confluence. Sure, one may be born out of the other, but together they form a near-perfect circle. What but the perfection of form and ideal could result in the utterly ridiculous image above?!

In my mind, there are two lessons to take from this. Things are coming in twos today.
Lesson One: No man is an island.
Lesson Two: Chicks dig big metal dudes.

Monday, April 30, 2007

Who does number two work for?

So for a month now I've been learning all about Icelandic culture through peripheral immersion.

Why the sudden interest in the Tiny Island Entirely Populated By Viking Hordes?

The company I just started to work for, White Wolf Publishing, merged with CCP Games--which is from Iceland.

The man in the picture above is kinda the President/CEO/Storm Trooper General. He doesn't dress like that normally, but honestly, we all think he should.

Here's a short list of what else you don't know about Iceland.

  • In case of a worldwide zombie infestation, they are completely screwed because almost the entirety of Europe will try to go over there for safety and they don't have the military to protect their borders. What the entirety of Europe doesn't realize is that zombies can walk the ocean floor. Thanks Max Brooks for this bit of information.
  • They all travel in longships, even on land. 3/4 of the entire population are expert, Olympic-level rowers. The other 1/4 are super-expert, Olympic-level rowers. They don't compete in the Olympics in rowing because, well, it's too easy.
  • They party harder than 27 Collin Farrel's PLUS 3 sets of Oasis brothers. The only reason they haven't all died is because the cold weather preserves their organs.
  • Everything that comes ashore is taxed. Like crazy. No, I mean like the kind of tax that makes you want to throw tea into a harbor. It's so bad that we try to ship them as little as possible, instead making them swallow expensive computer parts when boarding airplanes.
  • "Immigrant Song" by Led Zeppelin is their national anthem. It is also the prayer they say before they go to bed every night. Finally it serves as some really kickass Muzak in every office elevator in the entire country...by law.
  • They are all really a bunch of hippies. I like them because I play frisbee.
  • Consonants are clearly more highly valued than vowels.
  • The words "shark" and "urine" appear in the name of one of their famous dishes. I will not ever eat that dish, although it has received the "not as bad as I expected" award from White Wolf's finest food critics.
  • While they have a culture rooted in maritime endeavors, at our recent company day they were the masterminds behind the SS Worst Boat Ever. It was probably the only vessel that the teambuilding company has strictly forbidden anyone from manning in a race across a body of water. Mainly because it was sort of like a human torpedo, but made out of cardboard and with holes everywhere.

Monday, March 19, 2007

Oðinsdagr, the 28th Day of Martius

I shall begin my labors here.

Thursday, March 08, 2007

Big surprise

You scored as Captain Jack Sparrow. Roguish,quick-witted, and incredibly lucky, Jack Sparrow is a pirate who sometimes ends up being a hero, against his better judgement. Captain Jack looks out for #1, but he can be counted on (usually) to do the right thing. He has an incredibly persuasive tongue, a mind that borders on genius or insanity, and an incredible talent for getting into trouble and getting out of it. Maybe its brains, maybe its genius, or maybe its just plain luck. Or maybe a mixture of all three.

Captain Jack Sparrow

79%

William Wallace

67%

Indiana Jones

63%

Maximus

63%

El Zorro

63%

Batman, the Dark Knight

63%

James Bond, Agent 007

58%

Lara Croft

54%

The Terminator

42%

Neo, the "One"

42%

The Amazing Spider-Man

42%

Which Action Hero Would You Be? v. 2.0
created with QuizFarm.com

Friday, February 16, 2007

Nedstradamus

A miner in Chiapas found a teeny tiny tree frog that had been perserved in amber for about 25 million years. 25 million years in amber. I guess it's better than tar.

So I got to thinking...

I will obviously become fully encased and preserved in amber (see above). Around the time I die carbonite will be in high demand, causing "Ambering" to be a cheap alternative.

What will I find when I'm finally chiseled or lasered from my sticky, goldesque prison--25 million years in the future (give or take a few)? Here are a few possibilities. DO NOT DOUBT MY PRECOGNITIVE ABILITIES, FOR I FORSEE YOUR FUTURE POSSIBLY NOT INVOLVING MY FIST AND YOUR FACE...SHOULD YOU PLAY YOUR CARDS RIGHT!

Back to Nedstradamus' predictions.

  • Tiny Tree Frogs will free me from my Amber prison with Tiny Tree Tools, having taken over the entire field of Science by finally learning to communicate with us. They begin their careers in science by dissecting humans in 8th grade. Oh, the irony
  • Sean Connery will still be widely considered the best James Bond
  • Michael Jackson will look black again (it's a cyclical thing, not an irreversible trend like many have thought), being the only person of our generation to live for that long without carbonite or ambering because his body is made entirely of plastic. He rules as Los Angeles' Eldest King alongside Pamela Anderson's breasts.
  • Flying cars are widely available, but are on the decline thanks to the new vehicle fad--the Burrowmobile
  • We discover an alien race who shares a single sentience. Its name is "Tom" and it is short for Thomas.
  • Protesting the decline of American morality is still popular--septexuals are the primary target
  • The Jedi came and went -- their lightsabers were as cool as everyone imagined they would be
  • Half of the world economy depends on the outcome of nightly Texas Hold'Em games
  • Mexican food has completely taken over American cuisine and its resulting methane has completely overtaken the fuel industry
  • Denmark really is rotten, about 2 feet beneath the surface

La vida intelligent?


SAN JUAN, Puerto Rico (AP) -- Ricky Martin, who was a headliner at the 2001 inauguration ball for President George W. Bush, has a message for the American commander in chief about war.

At a recent concert, the 35-year-old singer stuck up his middle finger when he sang the president's name in his song "Asignatura Pendiente," which includes the words, "a photo with Bush." The gesture last Friday prompted cheers from thousands of fans in the San Juan stadium.

On Thursday, the Puerto Rican heartthrob repeated his criticism of the Iraq war and explained his changed position on Bush.

"My convictions of peace and life go beyond any government and political agenda and as long as I have a voice onstage and offstage, I will always condemn war and those who promulgate it," Martin said about his action in an e-mail statement sent to The Associated Press via a spokesman.

~~~~~

Amen to that, Mr. Martin.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Every breath I take

..Jon Stewart is watching me? More animated giffy goodness. That's right, I've gone bonkers! Following my post on Hannidate.com, the Daily Show once again steals my thunder on a televisioniacal stage. Last night held a report by Jason Jones. Check out the Must Love Dogma link on this page.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Happy Valentine's Day!

Indeed. And I love the rest of ya'll too.

Friday, February 09, 2007

Piratical Dominance Chapter II: Nuts and Bolts-Robots Are Screwed

(shortcut to Chapter I, wherein I discuss the merits of swashbuckling and the demerits of sneakitude in reference to the hierarchical order of the almighty Pirate and the dastardly Ninja)

PLEASE NOTE: THIS BLOG POST IS INCOMPLETE--BUT IT SHALL BE SOON.
The debate rages onward! Abraham Lincoln, esteemed orator and log cabin builder, has been quoted in his private papers as follows.

Throughout the course of human endeavor, no greater debate has been fostered than that of the pirate versus the ninja versus the robot. Brave men have joined each side of this well-concieved struggle, leaving behind a rich history of impasssioned battle. This great nation was forged therein. While brother fights brother in this epic battle, we must honor the devoted fallen by taking up the side of righteousness. America must forsake the ignoble path of the ninja and the unenduring line of the robot. We need rally beneath the Jolly Roger and live together in freedom!
Mohandas K. Gandhi spoke the following in an oft-quoted excerpt from an address to the All-India Congress in Bombay, August 7, 1942.

There are people who have hatred in their hearts for the British. I have heard of people saying that they are disgusted with them. The common people's mind does not differentiate between a Britisher and the imperialist form of their government. To them both are the same.

Erase that from your hearts! Fill your heart with friendship so there is no room for hatred of your fellow man! Non-violence is a matchless weapon, which can help every one. Only if the British were ninjas or robots would violence be proper.

Stem-cell research? Meh. Boxers/Briefs? Bah! Which side of your bread to butter? Blech. Innie or outie? Ptooey.

There is one debate that silences all others. One all-consuming question, the answer to which mirrors what type of soul each individual has. The answer, when known, unlocks the secrets of the universe itself...much moreso than even the number 42. Who wins? Which group remains supreme?

Pirates Vs. Ninjas Vs. Robots ( and sometimes Clowns et al.)

Galileo measured it. Da Vinci sketched it. Newton tested it. Einstein put it into a formula. Even Billy Graham prayed about it. The answer we all know in our heart of hearts has been unearthed.
Pirates - The Scourge of the Epistemological World

In this, the second installment, I shall weigh the greatness of both Pirates and Robots like Lady Justice weighs truth. I shall show with infallible logic that Robots do not hold a flame (or a mechanical flamethrower) to the supercoolitude of Pirates.

Before I continue on to the comparison, I must assure you that this debate isn't merely theoretical. There is a war going on people. Underground...above ground...in the world around us rages a veritable maelstrom of war. Don't let your ignorance make you into another "collateral damage" statistic. Get educated! Knowing is--of course--half the battle.

Without further ado...

OUTLOOK ON LIFE
-The robot's life is one among many. The consumate part made of parts that is part of something else. There is no feeling, only work. Endless, repetitive work. The robot cannot think. The robot cannot deviate. If this, then robot that. Even the most sentient of robots still relies on their original programming and works within its parameters. When their systems and parts begin to fail, they look to their creator or master to repair them.

-Pirates, on the other hand, live for breaking boundaries--for second chances and new beginnings. Each time a pirate sets sail is different from the last. A pirate doesn't live life according to a set of rules. A pirate makes his own rules!

It is clear that pirates understand the preciousness of life. Carpe oceanum! In addition, this category clearly goes to the pirate because, well, the robot isn't even alive. Furthermore, robots are content being even the smallest part in a huge operation--they lack ambition--and they shall never be able to improve themselves.

HISTORY
-The word "robot" comes from a 1921 play "R.U.R. (Rossum's Universal Robots)" and is derived from the Czech word "robota" meaning "forced labor". Some claim that the first "robot" is the clepsydra, a water clock, made in 250 BC by the Greek physicist and inventor Ctesibius of Alexandria. An auspicious beginning--the descendents of a clock are supposed to be the greatest of all?

-Pirates have been sailing about and sowing mayhem since well before some drippy droppy timepiece was conceived. When the first humanoid held onto a log in a lake, piracy was born. For over three thousand years pirates have been the heroes of literature, culture, politics, and romance. I dare you to show me one robot that was a hero in any one of those!

When you are talking about the wide expanse of history, there are a few constants in the world. Pirates are one of them. Pirates are wont to tell their tales of ribaldry and skullduggery. A robot cares not for the past or the future, only the task at hand. Therefore the great timeline of history shall e'er be rich with piratical tales and scant rumors of robotic deeds. Check-a-roonie to the pirate.

PURPOSE
-Robots are programmed to do something. Usually one task. They are limited in their ability to adapt by the code imbedded in them. Their purpose is to serve humans.

-The Pirate does whatever the hell he wants. His purpose is open to interpretation and revision. It isn't limited by borders!

While Robots might fulfill their "purpose" quickly and efficiently, it is necessarily a more limited purpose than the Pirate's. Some may say that a Pirate only exists to pillage, swig down a bottle of rum, or pillage, in reality the Piratical purpose is a complex mix of emotionally-driven goals that are bequethed upon them by their own imaginations, the smell of the salty sea in the air, and an occasional suggestion from their parrotical companion. Viva la' Pirates.

BATTLE CRY
-Beep boop boop beep.

-Yaaaaaarrrrr!!!! (accompanied by the din of cannon shot and sabre-rattling)

Hands down, Pirate. Few Robots make enough noise to drown out a mouse's whisper.

ENVIRONMENT
-Robots can exist in any environment, although they don't do so well in molten lava or underwater.

-Pirates don't need to go to the moon. They ride waves of magma on ships made of magical wood, laughing heartily at the puniness of the earth's rawest power. They could easily dive down many leagues to fetch a huge pearl out of the monstrous maw of a giant oyester. But they don't need to. They just steal that pearl from someone else who dove in.

Pirates barely edge out the Robots. Surviving on the moon is cool and all, but riding molten waves is a tad bit cooler.

DIET
-Oil and electricity is the diet of a Robot.

-Pirates enjoy the greatest foods from all of this planet's cultures. Any place they can land their ships they find culinary inspiration. You think neo-Japanese is good, try Italo-Cuban fusion!

Not only is a pirate's diet more tasty than that of a Robot, but it's also free. Electricity and oil cost a whole helluva lot more than a snatched mango thanks to Enron.

MODUS OPERANDI
-Robots have a designated path and designated motion. Whatever the 1s and 0s say to them they do. Usually that's putting cars together on an assembly line. The rare (1 in a billion) robot might get to go check out a suspicious glowing item and sacrifice its own existence because the human guiding it is dumb.

-Pirates go hither and yon, in search of adventure. They pillage. They drink rum. They live the life few do and many dream of. They face the harshest of conditions and relax in the most tropical of climes. They experience life to the fullest by attacking it head on. They are unstoppable hommes di vivre. Their MO is in your face 24 seven. They don't give a wharf rat's bottom if you are in their way or not.

Without any real morality of their own or without the ability to adapt to anything thrown at them independent of their programming, the MO of your typical robot pales in comparision to that of your typical pirate. Its just not fair.


MORE TO COME!!!

WEAPONRY

FASHION

ACCESSORIES

UNDERLINGS

COMPANIONSHIP

OTHER ENEMIES

METHOD OF AUTOCIDE

WEAKNESSES

MANO E ROBOTO BATTLE

THE COURSE OF WAR

FAMOUS INDIVIDUALS THROUGHOUT HISTORY

SUMMARY

Warning: Bleeding Heart Satire!


You know when you get a streak of things you want to write about? Well I'm in the middle of one. During my commute to Stone Mountain I like to listen to NPR until Lois Reitzes starts chiming in with her strange voice for Second Cup Concert. Then it is into enemy territory for me, WSB 750--home of Boortz, Hannity, and assorted other ridiculous talking heads.

I am learning a lot about debating--which I'd lost since my complete domination of policy debate for one year using the Cuban Health Care System as a comprehensive solution to America's health care. They twist, wriggle, gyrate, and duck questions and topics in ways I couldn't possibly imagine. And I can imagine quite a bit. Deflection and deferment -- freaking oratory Criss Angels. About 45 minutes yesterday on my way home I learned it was un-American to call our government and its activities in Iraq oppressive. Does that mean that Martin Luther King was un-American because he felt like America was systematically oppressing black people?

One of the MAJOR OUTRAGES yesterday in the Senate and on WSB 750 was that Nancy Pelosi (second in line to the Presidency mind you), had requested a larger plane be at her disposal. Well, it turns out that today, she had nothing to do with the request--it was actually the Senate's Sergeant-at-Arms (does he carry a guisarme?) who was concerned about security on a plane that had to make a refueling stop between Washington and her district in California. Bigger plane = bigger gas tank. I hopped on the website to see if I could find an apology for wasting vital radio waves with such a tirade that turned out not to be true. After all, I've heard countless promises that if a listener or guest could possibly ever prove that they were fallible in an argument that they would publicly apologize and accept the guest/listener's viewpoint.

Well, such was obviously not the case. I'm sure I'll hear some contortionism on the way home about how they were really talking about some other subject etc etc...

HOWEVER, during my search I found my new stomach-churning site. It's not full of surgery pictures, deformed animals, or war reporting. It's Hannidate.com.

Hannidate.com

Yep, Hannidate.com

Apparently nothing turns on Conservatives more than the idea of being fixed up by a website born of Sean Hannity. Nothing says lifelong commitment like Sean Hannity. Nothing says soul mate (not soul-mate) like Sean Hannity. They'd be better off if it was Hannidate.com.

Well, luckily for you, my silent but loyal blog reader, there's a featured profile. I end this post with the text of said profile.

Warning: Bleeding Heart Satire! I'm totally projecting all of my (some fake but all outrageous) anti-conservative prejudices on this poor soul just looking for love. So please take my [non linked commentary] lightly. Take my linking "comments" as you will. All in good fun.

Looking for my Annie Oakley [see above pic]
Member Name: TwoAlpha
Member ID: T001646
Caucasian / White, 27, Single - Never Married [darn, could have been 4/4 if he'd been divorced thrice] Los Alamos, New Mexico
United States

Personal Details
Gender: Male
Age: 27 (28-Nov-1979)
Race: Caucasian / White
Marital Status: Single - Never Married
Children: 0
Religion: Christian / Catholic
Drinking: Socially
Smoking: Cigar
Food: German
Occupation: Engineering
Education: Bachelors degree
Languages: English (Fluent)
French (Minimal)
Interests: Volunteer / Charity
Travel / Sightseeing
Sailing / Boating
Religion
Politics
Nature
Music - Rock
Music - Dance / Electronic
Music - Country
Music - Classical / Opera
Music - Blues/Jazz [yeah right]
Museums / Galleries [yeah right part two]
Movies / Cinema
Hiking / Camping
Football / Soccer / Rugby
Food and Wine
Cycling
Cooking
Computers / Internet
Cars / Motorcycles
Billiards / Pool / Darts
Baseball / Softball
Athletics
Eye Colour: Green
Hair Colour: Light Brown
Body Type: Average
Height: 6'00" - (183 cm)

General Information
Hello there. Well first off I'll say that I'm on here
because I truly would like to meet a conservative, like
minded woman
. I'm big into the outdooors. I like hiking,
camping, fishing, hunting, shooting and a lazy day at the
lake
. Of course there has to be balance and I'm just as at
home watching a movie, cooking dinner for a special someone,
going out to eat or playing pool at the bar. I'm also a
competitive shooter (only pistol at the moment but looking
to expand) and I enjoy it immensely. If you've never gone
shooting before I suggest you give it a try. It's a blast,
pun intended of course! I'm close to my family and I
certainly enjoy traveling with them. I like to see new
places and I'm a museum junkie. Learning about history is
something I enjoy very much. The more I learn the more I
realize the problems society has today are certainly nothing
new
. I've got a very good sense of humor and enjoy
laughing. The only thing I enjoy more than laughing is
putting a smile on someone's face. I suppose you could say
that my humor is a combination of wit, sarcasm, nerdiness
and sometimes a little raunchiness. No need to hold back
when you're trying to make someone laugh! My dad is a
veterinarian so I'm a sucker for animals. I'm a dog lover
and horses
come a close second. I haven't ridden horses in a
while and my apartment complex doesn't allow dogs so I try
and get my dose of animals whenever I can. Usually that's
when I visit my family. I'm an engineer at a laboratory
and I really enjoy my job. I suppose I'm a little nerdy at
times but my job doesn't define who I am. I try and leave
work at work and enjoy myself to the fullest when I don't
have to work.

Appearance
I'm 6 feet tall and about 225lbs. I spend some time in the
gym because I enjoy being strong and in shape. I'm not some
body builder or Abercrombie model, just a regular guy that
can easily move furniture and other heavy things. I find
that women like it when they have a guy that can that for
them. I suppose I'm a regular handyman. I don't dress up
too often
since I usually end up getting dirty because of my
job and hobbies. At work it's usually overalls or ****ies
pants with a t-shirt. I will dress nicely for church, dates
and other special occasions. As for facial hair I
usually go through phases. I'll grow a goatee, shave it off.
Grow a mustache, shave it off. A little variety never hurt.
If you don't like facial hair then just wait a couple weeks,
it'll change.


Looking for
It's hard to quantify what I'm looking for. Some basics are
in order though. I'm looking for a conservative woman who
shares some of my hobbies with me. She should be witty and
have a great sense of humor. Intelligent conversation is
always enjoyed and I like a woman who has something to say
whether I agree with it or not. Of course if we're on the
same conservative wavelength I wouldn't think that there
would be too many disagreements. A friend at first is what
I'm looking for and come what may after we get to know each
other. I'm Catholic and that's a big part of my life. I
certainly don't require that of the woman I'm looking for,
just a good Christian grounding.
Gender: Female
Age From: 21
Age To: 30

"It's Trimspiracy, Baby!"

The octogenarian billionaire world is still reeling (vid link;) from what might eventually prove to be a Sizemore-esque ending to Anna Nicole Smith's life. She lived fast, skanky, fat, then skinny. She died youngish.

She rose from relative obscurity as Vickie Lynn Hogan, the perfect small town heroine from Mexia, Texas. Quintessentially hick, she married a 17 year old Billy Smith when she was 16, having fallen in love while working together at Jim's Krispy Fried Chicken. As much as you think that's a joke, here's the punchline--her parents are named Donald Eugene and Virgie Mae Tabers (20 and 16 respectively when birthing her). As we all know, the stars at night are big and bright...and a year later out popped D. Wayne Smith.

Her path took her ever upwards, working at a strip club named Gigi's in Houston. There she met elderly oil billionaire (and decidedly non-hick-named) J. Howard Marshall. Some lapdances were exchanged and love was in the air in the champagne room for the first time ever.

Two years later, in 1993, Billy say bye bye because Billy have no billions of bucks. 13 months later J. Howard Marshall changed his name to J. Howard Tuhlip-Poosher. In that same year she was Playmate of the Year, which apparently means you are superfamous for the rest of eternity.

She soon fought E. Pierce Marshall (also non-hick-named) for the inheritance. Here's another punchline or two from Wikipedia...

"The U.S. Supreme Court decided in September 2005 to hear the appeal of that decision. The Bush administration subsequently directed the Solicitor General to intercede on Smith's behalf out of an interest to expand federal court jurisdiction over state probate disputes.

After months of waiting, Smith and her stepson Pierce learned of the Supreme Court's decision on May 1, 2006. The justices unanimously decided in favor of Smith; Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg wrote the majority opinion. (See Marshall v. Marshall)The decision did not give Smith a portion of her husband's estate, but affirmed her right to pursue a share of it in federal court. "

You read that right. Supreme Court. She went before the Supreme Court. Clarence Thomas was undoubtedly elated.

A film and television "career" was had. She Oprahed back and forth. She met another man with an initial as part of his name. Her son O.D.'d. Sad stuff.

I make fun of this poor, confused, and elevated woman because she constantly did. I'm not saying that as if I know her, but when you put your best boobs forward, you're going to be the butt of many jokes.

BUT IS THERE A DARKER SECRET HERE?

What do David Beckham and Marky Mark's love child have to do with it (see above)? Is he protecting her now that she knows the inner secrets of the Bush Administration and the veiled inner-workings of the Supreme Court? Or is he paired with ZZ Top (above as well) to kill her with a lethal overdose of Trimspa? Is Jenny Craig behind it all (not pictured above). She was found at the Seminole Hard Rock Hotel and Casino in Hollywood, FL--perhaps the first step in vengeance for the Trail of Tears? Watch out Jenny McCarthy!

All things to think about, or not.


Thursday, February 08, 2007

Space Headlines


It started with the greatest headline of all times.

N*SYNC's Lance trains to be "Basstronaut"

and now we're given this?

Funny side of "astro-nut" "lust in space"

Is it the weightfullness of not-space here on Earth that slowly pulls apart reporters brains and forces them into wacky-mode while talking about space travel? Is it the vastness of our cosmos and their inability to wrap their puny minds around the concept?

Does it take a rocket scientist to avoid puns about astronauts?

I'm fully willing to concede that the two above situations are absolutely ridiculous. A boy-band member going into space! An astronaut attempting to kidnap/murder a fellow astronaut because of jealousy over the affections of the pilot! Both deserve exclamations marks!

I did a little (made up) research into the history of reporting on space. Here are some other headlines ripped from the past...

In the Sputnik of time - first sattelite launched

All for cosmonaut! US lag behind Commies in space race

Showtime at the Apollo 13 - Nearly Booed Off Course

Challenger? I barely knew her! (poor taste, I know)

Glenn depends on Depends in space for second trip

Wednesday, February 07, 2007

The Bearded One


Chuck Norris "Trailer".

Just passing it along.

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

Department of Dumbland Security


Ignignokt: Using a key to gouge expletives on another's vehicle is a sign of trust and friendship.

Boston Police Commissioner Edward Davis called it "unconscionable" that the marketing campaign was executed in a post 9/11 era. "It's a foolish prank on the part of Turner Broadcasting," he said. "In the environment nowadays ... we really have to look at the motivation of the company here and why this happened."

"These devices looked like a bomb."

This is what we sow when we have terror warnings and "what ifs" every night on the news. This is what constant talk of "terrorism" in our midst brings us--fearful paralysis and a lack of
imagination. This is what happens when our president doesn't talk about Katrina in the state of the union and focuses entirely on fighting terrorism.

This is a real fake bomb.


READER! WATCH OUT FOR THESE NEAR BOMBS!
(trust me, they were like sooo close to getting them--
of course they could be made into "dirty bombs"...
do I have proof? Um... I blame nameless analyst #47312344)

SADDAM'S ALUMINUM TUBES

YELLOW CAKE FROM AFRICA!
This, also, is not a bomb--it is Lite-Brite.




I think he meant to say..."Tha Bomb"




It reminds me of this, somehow.


Monday, January 29, 2007

I'm rubber and you're...

anthropomorphism: n. Attribution of human motivation, characteristics, or behavior to inanimate objects, animals, or natural phenomena.

Amidst this country's most ridiculous national infatuation, the harrowing tale of a "true champion" and "born fighter" named Barbaro has finally come to an end. Just hours before I was going to make an attempt on his life for unnecessarily dominating news stories for months because every little girl likes horsies.

Just take a critical read of the following story from CNN.com. Then please explain to me how it can possibly be considered the top story ahead of "Bush warns Iran not to escalate activities in Iraq". Well, at least it should be ahead of other ridiculous headlines (also on the front page): "Wife, 65, fought cougar with log", "Cats lose visiting rights at women's prison", and "Shot, refridgerated 2 days but duck kept living". I kid you not. Equal footing with "US: Israel may have misused cluster bombs".

Speaking of my favorite president (I use the term "favorite" as a lie), did it concern anyone else that there was not one mention of the hurricane-ravaged Gulf Coast area in the State of the Union address? I've spent a great deal of time considering that and what it means for his priorities--I'll let you draw your own conclusions about it. If ANYONE can tell me one major thing he hasn't blundered during his presidency, I'd be happy to hear it!

Gotta love YouTube...check out a poorly produced, but wonderful video here--a little bit country, but good.

But enough seriousness, I give you the epic story of the greatest American hero!

THE LONG AWAITED BARBARO STORY!!!! (used without permission to reprint!)

KENNETT SQUARE, Pa. (AP) -- Kentucky Derby winner Barbaro was euthanized Monday after complications from his gruesome breakdown at last year's Preakness, ending an eight-month ordeal that prompted an outpouring of support across the country.

"We just reached a point where it was going to be difficult for him to go on without pain," co-owner Roy Jackson said. "It was the right decision, it was the right thing to do. We said all along if there was a situation where it would become more difficult for him then it would be time."

A series of ailments, including laminitis in the left rear hoof and a recent abscess in the right rear hoof, proved too much for the gallant colt.

Barbaro battled in his ICU stall for eight months. The 4-year-old colt underwent several procedures and was fitted with fiberglass casts. He spent time in a sling to ease pressure on his legs, had pins inserted and was fitted at the end with an external brace. These were all extraordinary measures for a horse with such injuries.

Roy and Gretchen Jackson were with Barbaro on Monday morning, with the owners making the decision in consultation with chief surgeon Dr. Dean Richardson.

"I would say thank you for everything, and all your thoughts and prayers over the last eight months or so," Jackson said to Barbaro's fans.

The news that Barbaro had been euthanized first was reported on the Thoroughbred Times Web site.

On May 20, Barbaro was rushed to the New Bolton Center, about 30 miles from Philadelphia in Kennett Square, hours after shattering his right hind leg just a few strides into the Preakness Stakes. The bay colt underwent a five-hour operation that fused two joints, recovering from an injury most horses never survive. But Barbaro never regained his natural gait.

"We loved him. He was great," said Peter Brette, Barbaro's exercise rider and assistant trainer for Michael Matz. "He did everything we ever asked of him. He could have been one of the best. What a fighter he was."

Barbaro suffered a significant setback over the weekend, and surgery was required to insert two steel pins in a bone -- one of three shattered in the Preakness but now healthy -- to eliminate all weight bearing on the ailing right rear foot.

The procedure Saturday was a risky one, because it transferred more weight to the leg while the foot rests on the ground bearing no weight.

The leg was on the mend until the abscess began causing discomfort last week. Until then, the major concern was Barbaro's left rear leg, which developed laminitis in July, and 80 percent of the hoof was removed.

Richardson said Monday morning that Barbaro did not have a good night.

"This horse was a hero," said David Switzer, executive director of the Kentucky Thoroughbred Association. "His owners went above and beyond the call of duty to save this horse. It's an unfortunate situation, but I think they did the right thing in putting him down."

Brilliant on the race track, Barbaro always will be remembered for his brave fight for survival.

The story of the beloved 4-year-old bay colt's fight for life captured the fancy of millions.

When Barbaro broke down, his right hind leg flared out awkwardly as jockey Edgar Prado jumped off and tried to steady the ailing horse. Race fans at Pimlico wept. Within 24 hours the entire nation seemed to be caught up in a "Barbaro watch," waiting for any news.

Well-wishers young and old showed up at the New Bolton Center with cards, flowers, gifts, goodies and even religious medals for the champ, and thousands of e-mails poured into the hospital's Web site just for him.

"I just can't explain why everyone is so caught up in this horse," Roy Jackson, who owned the colt with his wife, Gretchen, has said time and again. "Everything is so negative now in the world, people love animals and I think they just happen to latch onto him."

Devoted fans even wrote Christmas carols for him, sent a wreath made of baby organic carrots and gave him a Christmas stocking.

The biggest gift has been the $1.2 million raised since early June for the Barbaro Fund. The money is put toward needed equipment such as an operating room table, and a raft and sling for the same pool recovery Barbaro used after his surgeries.

The Jacksons spent tens of thousands of dollars hoping the best horse they ever owned would recover and be able to live a comfortable life on the farm -- whether he was able to breed or not.

The couple, who own about 70 racehorses, broodmares and yearlings, and operate the 190-acre Lael Farm, have been in the horse business for 30 years, and never had a horse like Barbaro.

As the days passed, it seemed Barbaro would get his happy ending. As late as December, with the broken bones in his right hind leg nearly healed and his laminitis under control, Barbaro was looking good and relishing daily walks outside his intensive care unit.

But after months of upbeat progress reports, including talk that he might be headed home soon, news came Jan. 10 of a serious setback because of the laminitis. Richardson had to remove damaged tissue from Barbaro's left hind hoof, and the colt was placed back in a protective sling.

On Jan. 13, another section of his left rear hoof was removed. After Barbaro developed a deep abscess in his right hind foot, surgery was performed Saturday to insert two steel pins in a bone.

This after Richardson warned last December that Barbaro's right hind leg was getting stronger and that the left hind foot was a "more formidable long-term challenge."

Even before the injury that ended his career, Barbaro had earned his fame for simply being a magnificent racehorse.

Foaled and raised at Sanborn Chase at Springmint Farm near Nicholasville, Ky., Barbaro always stood out in the crowd. "He was an enormous foal," recalled breeder Bill Sanborn. "He was a tall and leggy horse, and when he grew it was like in two-inch spurts."

When the Jacksons sent Barbaro to trainer Matz over a year ago, exercise rider Brette climbed aboard and said "I thought he was a 3-year-old."

A son of Dynaformer, out of the dam Le Ville Rouge, Barbaro started his career on the turf, but Matz knew he would have to try his versatile colt on the dirt. He reasoned that if he had a talented 3-year-old in America, he'd have to find out early if his horse was good enough for the Triple Crown races.

Barbaro was good enough, all right. He won his first three races on turf with authority, including the Laurel Futurity by eight lengths and the Tropical Park Derby by 33/4 lengths.

That's when Matz drew up an unconventional plan for a dirt campaign that spaced out Barbaro's race to keep him fit for the entire Triple Crown, a grueling ordeal of three races in five weeks at varying distances over different tracks.

Barbaro won the Holy Bull Stakes at Gulfstream Park on Feb. 4, but his dirt debut was inconclusive since it came over a sloppy track. After an eight-week break, an unusually long time between races, Barbaro came back and won the Florida Derby by a half-length over Sharp Humor despite an outside No. 10 post.

The deal was sealed -- on to the Derby, but not without criticism that Barbaro couldn't win coming off a five-week layoff. After all, it had been 50 years since Needles won the Derby off a similar break. But Matz was unfazed, and stuck to his plan, saying all the time he was doing what was best for the horse.

Not only did Barbaro win the Derby, he demolished what was supposed to be one of the toughest fields in years. The 61/2-length winning margin was the largest since 1946, when Assault won by eight lengths and went on to sweep the Triple Crown.

The 55-year-old Matz, meanwhile, was living a charmed life. Before turning to thoroughbreds eight years ago, he was an international show jumping star, and a three-time Olympian and silver medal winner who carried the U.S. flag at the closing ceremony at the 1996 Atlanta Games. He also survived a plane crash in Iowa in 1989 and became a hero by saving three children from the burning wreckage. The crash killed 112 of the 296 people on board United Flight 232.

In Barbaro, Matz truly believed he was training a Triple Crown winner. He often said Barbaro was good enough to be ranked among the greats and join Seattle Slew as the only unbeaten Triple Crown champions.

But two weeks later after the Derby Barbaro took a horrible misstep and one of the most extraordinary attempts to save a thoroughbred was under way. The injury was considered to be so disastrous that many thought the horse would be euthanized while still at Pimlico Race Track.

Instead, Barbaro was transported that night to the New Bolton Center's George D. Widener Hospital for Large Animals and was operated on the next day by Richardson.

The injuries were as serious as everyone feared: Barbaro sustained a broken cannon bone above the ankle, a broken sesamoid bone behind the ankle and a broken long pastern bone below the ankle. The fetlock joint -- the ankle -- was dislocated. Richardson said the pastern bone was shattered in "20-plus pieces."

Barbaro, who earned $2,302,200 with his six wins in seven starts, endured the complicated five-hour surgery in which Richardson inserted a titanium plate and 27 screws into the broken bones. After calmly awakening from anesthesia, he "practically jogged back to his stall" looking for something to eat.

At the time, Richardson stressed Barbaro still had many hurdles to clear, and called chances for a full recovery a "coin toss."

Afterward, though, things went relatively smoothly. Each day brought more optimism: Barbaro was eyeing the mares, nickering, gobbling up his feed and trying to walk out of his stall. There was great hope Barbaro somehow would overcome the odds and live a life of leisure on the farm.

But by mid-July, Richardson's greatest fear became reality -- laminitis struck Barbaro's left hind leg and 80 percent of the hoof was removed. Richardson recalled recently what it was like when he met with the Jacksons, and Matz, and his wife, D.D., to deliver the news.

"It was terrible," Richardson said. "I wouldn't have blamed anyone at that point for saying they just couldn't face the prospects of going on."

But Barbaro responded well to treatment, and his recovery was progressing until a final, fatal turn.

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

On the shoulders of ants

Oh wondrous satire. Why on God's Green Earth would Bill O'Reilly ever put himself in the same room with his "adoring fan", Stephen Colbert?

Whatever the impetus for it, you can now watch (through the miraculous power of the internet) Colbert on the Factor, Papa Bear on the Report, and of course the slightly related, and now retro-awesome Press Dinner.

Mmmm good! Like a tasty dessert for your State of the Union blue state special.