Φοῖνιξ

Ciao for now blog.

2009-06-26T12:23:00.001-04:00

Ciao for now, blog. I've got other creative stuff to do. Plus, right now I'm in just about the happiest place in my life so best to go out on top.

Millstone

2009-03-27T22:18:00.005-04:00

For various reasons, I am dipping further into the obscure reference pocket and bringing forth...

Capturing a specific moment in my life. Sorry for obscuring the outward messaging with some internal time-capsulage. Even your best cryptographic skills won't help you here. I'm going full Dennis Miller/Ryan Verniere reference on this one.

Sad this doesn't surprise me...

2008-12-27T00:14:00.002-05:00

...but it still disgusts me. The hell is wrong with these people!?!?!

"A candidate for the Republican National Committee chairmanship said Friday the CD he sent committee members for Christmas -- which included a song titled "Barack the Magic Negro" -- was clearly intended as a joke."

"According to The Hill, other song titles, some of which were in bold font, were: "John Edwards' Poverty Tour," "Wright place, wrong pastor," "Love Client #9," "Ivory and Ebony" and "The Star Spanglish Banner.""

This man is named Chip Saltsman, a Tennessean imbecile.

List of favorite stories.

2008-11-02T17:38:00.004-05:00

...some of these are short, some are epic...
this is just a placeholder, a list of some of my favorite stories I've experienced time and time agian.

robert on the rocks
the ballad of david bockman
operation DTVTAP/Country Mouse
eric's wisdom teeth
scotch-tape spot
you did it
busking in london
ryan's pudding
Ramona Quimby, Age Inappropriate
Whopper Mile
Smashing Pumpkins
Bufo Frog Dandy
Jeremy pee pants

more to be added as I remember them...

Is Land

2008-10-31T15:39:00.003-04:00

I'm back again, this time for Fanfest. Not much I want to ponder on here today after a long day of work and jetlag, other than I'm starting to feel like Reykjavik is my secret home city. I'm beginning to know it pretty well, be able to turn down the right streets, and feel at home with the citizens. I think just being around the language for a while, understanding when smiles are about to come out and when people are actually angry and when they are just passionate (almost ALWAYS passionate). A poetic, hardy people with a fire inside. Great characteristics to aspire to.

Reading on the Job

2008-10-02T11:51:00.002-04:00

My job demands that I do a lot of critical reading. Whether that's e-mails from the marketing department, posts on forums, news interviews or dev blogs. One reason I love my job is that none of this ever gets boring. It is all part of the evolution of games and to a greater extent, entertainment. To an even greater extent it is a study of how humans interact with eachother. Perhaps that last point will be better served for a later blog post.

One thing I'm seeing increasingly more of is some really smart people thinking some really innovative things about gaming. I see more and more pieces like the following one, either in seminars, panels, Op-Ed pieces, blogs, internal e-mail, or design documents. I thought this one particularly interesting and bring it here to you. If you say tl;dr, then I say it would be wasted on you anyways.

Originally published by Steve Gaynor at 03.02AM PST, 10/02/08
http://www.gamasutra.com/php-bin/news_index.php?story=20440

October 2, 2008

Opinion: On Invisibility In Game Design

Opinion: On Invisibility In Game Design [In this in-depth opinion piece, 2K Marin designer Steve Gaynor considers the immersive implications of a video game developer's visible influence on a final product, and argues for greater "invisibility" in design.]

When one is moved by an artist's work, it's sometimes said that the piece 'speaks' to you. Unlike art, games let you speak back to them, and in return, they reply. If the act of playing a video game is akin to carrying on a conversation, then it is the designer of the game with whom the player is conversing, via the game's systems.

In a strange way then, the designer of a video game is himself present as an entity within the work: as the "computer" -- the sum of the mechanics with which the player interacts. The designer is in the value of the shop items you barter for, the speed and cunning your rival racers exhibit, the accuracy of your opponent's guns and the resiliency with which they shrug off your shots, the order of operations with which you must complete a puzzle. The designer determines whether you win or lose, as well as how you play the game. In a sense, the designer resides within the inner workings of all the game's moving parts.

It's a wildly abstract and strangely mediated presence in the work: unlike a writer who puts his own views into words for the audience to read or hear, or the painter who visualizes an image, creates it and presents it to the world, a game designer's role is to express meaning and experiential tenor via potential: what the player may or may not do, as opposed to exactly what he will see, in what order, under which conditions.

This potential creates opportunity-- the opportunity for the player to wield a palette of expressive inputs, in turn drawing out responses from the system, which finally results in an end-user experience that, while composed of a finite set of components, is nonetheless a unique snowflake, distinct from any other player's.

One overlapping consideration of games and the arts is the degree to which the artist or designer reveals evidence of his hand in the final work. In fine art, the role of the artist's hand has long been manipulated and debated: ancient Greek sculptors and Renaissance painters burnished their statuary and delicately glazed their oils to disguise any evidence of the creator's involvement, attempting to create idealized but naturalistic images -- windows to another moment in reality, realistic representations of things otherwise unseeable in an age before photography.

Impressionist artists, followed by the Abstract Expressionists, embraced the artist's presence in the form of raw daubs and splashes of paint, drifting away from or outright opposing representational art in the age of photographic reproduction. Minimalists and Pop artists sought in response to remove the artist's hand from the equation through industrial fabrication techniques and impersonal commercial printing methods, returning the focus to the image itself, as a way of questioning the validity of personal and emotional artistic themes in the modern age.

The designer's presence in a video game might be similarly modulated, to a variety of ends. If a designer lives in the rules of the gameworld, then it is the player's conscious knowledge of the game's ruleset that exposes evidence of his hand.

Take for instance a game like Tetris. Tetris is almost nothing but its rules: its presentation is the starkest visualization of its current system state; it features no fictional wrapper or personified elements; any meaning it exudes or emotions it fosters are expressed entirely through the player's dialogue with its intensely spare ruleset.

The game might speak to any number of themes -- anxiety, Sisyphean futility, the randomness of an uncaring universe -- and it does so only through an abstract, concrete and wholly transparent set of rules. The player is fully conscious of the game's rules and is in dialogue only with them -- and thereby with the designer, Alexey Pajitnov -- at all times when playing Tetris.

While the game's presentation is artistically minimalist, the design itself is integrally formalist. But whereas formalism in the fine arts is meant to exclude the artist's persona from interpretation of the work, a formalist video game consists only of its exposed ruleset, and thereby functions purely as a dialogue with the designer of those rules.

Embracing this abstract formalist approach requires the designer to let go of naturalistic simulation, but allows the most direct connection between designer and player: a pure conduit for ideas to be expressed through rules and states.

Alternately, the designer's hand is least evident when players are wholly unconscious of the gameworld's underlying ruleset. I don't mean here abstract formalist designs wherein the mechanics are intentionally obscured -- in that case, "the player cannot easily obtain knowledge of the rules" is simply another rule.

Rather, I refer to "immersive simulations" -- games that attempt to utilize the rules of our own world as fully as possible, presenting clearly discernible affordances and supplying the player with appropriate inputs to interact with the gameworld as he might the real world. The ultimate node on this design progression would be the experience of The Matrix or Star Trek's holodeck -- a simulated world that for all intents and purposes functions identically to our own.

This approach to game design bears most in common with Renaissance artists' attempts to precisely model reality through painting, to much the same ends: an illusionistically convincing work which might 'trick' the viewer into mistaking the frame (of the painting or the monitor) for a window into an alternate viewpoint on our own reality.

However, where Renaissance artists needed to model our world visually, designers of immersive simulations strive to model our world functionally. This utilization of an underlying ruleset that is unconsciously understood by the player allows the work of the designer to remain invisible, setting up the game as a more perfect stage for others' endeavors-- the player's self-expression, and the writer's and visual artist's craft-- as well as presenting a more perfectly transparent lens through which the game's alternate reality may be viewed.

Every time the player is confronted with overt rules that they must acknowledge consciously, the lens is smudged, the stage eroded; at every point that a simulated experience deviates from the Holodeck ideal, the designer's hand is exposed to the player, drawing attention away from the world as a believable place, and onto the limitations of an artificial set of concrete rules governing the experience.

Clearly, the ideal, virtual reality version of "being there" is impossible with current technology. Tech will progress in time; the question is, how do current design conventions unintentionally draw the designer's hand into the fore, sullying the immersiveness of the end-user experience?

One common pitfall might be an over-reliance on a Hollywood-derived linear progression structure, which in turn confronts the player with a succession of mechanical conditions they must fulfill to proceed. If I, as a player, must defeat the boss, or pull the bathysphere lever, or slide down the flagpole to progress from level 1 to level 2, then I understand the world in a limited, artificial way.

Space doesn't exist as a line, nor are our lives composed of a linear sequence of deterministic events; when our gameworlds are arranged this way, the player must be challenged to satisfy their arbitrary win conditions, which in turn requires that they understand the limited rules which constrain the experience.

The designer's role is dictatorial, telling the player "here are the conditions that I've decided you must satisfy." The player's inputs test against these pre-determined conditions until they are fulfilled, at which point the designer allows the player to progress. Within this structure, the designer's hand looks something like the following:

Creating games without a linear progression structure, and therefore without overt, challenge-based gating goals, allows the player to inhabit the space with a rhythm that better mirrors their own life's than a movie's pacing, as opposed to focusing on artificial pinchpoints that cinch the gameworld's possibility space into a straight line.

Another offending convention might be a question of where the game's control scheme lives. In character-driven games, the player's inputs most commonly reside in the controller itself, requiring the player to memorize which button does what. The simple fact that the player can only perform actions which are mapped to controller buttons confronts them with the limitations of their role within the world; the player-character is not a "real person" but a tiny bundle of verbs wandering around the world.

Run, jump, punch, shoot, gas, brake, and occasionally a more nuanced context action when they stand in the right spot-- these are the extent of the player's agency. More pointedly, having to memorize button mapping is a ruleset itself, and one that pulls players out of the experience. "How do I jump?" "What does the B button do?" These are concerns that distract from the experience of being there.

Alternatively, the game's control scheme might live largely within the simulation itself. If the player's possible interactions lived within the objects in the gameworld instead of within the control pad, the player's range of interactions would only be limited by the extent to which the designer supported them, as opposed to the number of buttons on the controller.

Likewise, the more interactions that are drawn out of the gameworld itself, as opposed to being fired into it by the player, the more immersed the player is in the experience of being there, as opposed to the mastery of an ornate control scheme. This control philosophy does not support many games that rely on quick reflexes and life-or-death situations, but perhaps that isn't such a bad thing. One need only look at the success of The Sims and extrapolate its control philosophy outward: each object in the world is filled with unique interactions, resulting in seemingly endless possibilities spread out before the player.

A related convention that unduly exposes a game's underlying mechanics results from our need to communicate the player-character's physical state to the player. In many genre games, the player must know his character's current level of health, stamina, and so forth. In real life, one is simply aware of their own physical state; however, since games must communicate relevant information almost entirely through the visuals, we end up with health bars, numerical hitpoint readouts, and pulsing red screen overlays to communicate physical state.

The player then is less concerned with their character being "hurt" or "in pain" as with their being "damaged," like a car or a toy. The rules become transparent: when I lose all my hit points I die; when I use a health kit I recover a certain percentage of my hit points; I am a box of numbers, as opposed to a real person in a real place.

Similar to the prior point, the hitpoint problem presents a limitation native to game genres which rely on combat and life-or-death situations as their core conflicts, as opposed to implying an insurmountable limitation of the medium as a whole. If I am not in danger of being shot, stabbed, bitten or crushed, then I am free to relate to my player-character in human terms instead of numerical status, thus remaining unconscious of the designer's hand.

All this isn't to say that downplaying the designer's hand is an inherently superior design philosophy; clearly, many of us connect deeply with the conscious interaction between player and machine. But as our industry rides a wave of visual fidelity ever forward, our reliance on game genres tied to the assimilation of concrete rulesets only deepens the schism between player expectations and simulational veracity.

It's been posited that games are poised to enter a golden age -- a renaissance, one might say -- and as designers, we might do well to step out of the spotlight, stop obscuring the lens into our simulated worlds, and embrace the virtues of invisibility.

Yeats and A Heartbeat Away

2008-09-26T09:55:00.004-04:00

Take a look at this

Then consider this number: 700 Billion

And now read this, by William Butler Yeats:

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

On a personal level I find myself mirroring America in strange ways.
Times indeed my friends. Times.

Are you taking the paper?

2008-09-11T21:43:00.003-04:00

Perhaps my luck is ridiculous. Perhaps the accumulated karma from years of my mom asking me if I "take the paper" (while insinuating that I might be missing something or am somehow socially inept because I am not culturally exposed) has pushed me towards a brush with fate.

Context: While waiting for several work friends at a local watering hole on a dark and dreary night, I found a discarded newspaper to my left. Unwilling to bend my attention to FoxNews upon the TV screens provided at a social gathering place, my only natural choice was to explore this foreign and oft-avoided medium.

The third thing I read was brilliant. I consider myself a lottery winner.

I am reprinting it here as I believe the thoughts therein to be both poignant and well, freakin' spot-on.

Brooks: Lord of the Memes

By David Brooks
Published: August 8, 2008
Dear Dr. Kierkegaard,
All my life I've been a successful pseudo-intellectual, sprinkling quotations from Kafka, Epictetus and Derrida into my conversations, impressing dates and making my friends feel mentally inferior. But over the last few years, it's stopped working. People just look at me blankly. My artificially inflated self-esteem is on the wane. What happened?
Existential in Exeter

Dear Existential,
It pains me to see so many people being pseudo-intellectual in the wrong way. It desecrates the memory of the great poseurs of the past. And it is all the more frustrating because your error is so simple and yet so fundamental.
You have failed to keep pace with the current code of intellectual one-upsmanship. You have failed to appreciate that over the past few years, there has been a tectonic shift in the basis of good taste.
You must remember that there have been three epochs of intellectual affectation. The first, lasting from approximately 1400 to 1965, was the great age of snobbery. Cultural artifacts existed in a hierarchy, with opera and fine art at the top, and stripping at the bottom. The social climbing pseud merely had to familiarize himself with the forms at the top of the hierarchy and febrile acolytes would perch at his feet.
In 1960, for example, he merely had to follow the code of high modernism. He would master some impenetrably difficult work of art from T.S. Eliot or Ezra Pound and then brood contemplatively at parties about Lionel Trilling's misinterpretation of it. A successful date might consist of going to a reading of "The Waste Land," contemplating the hollowness of the human condition and then going home to drink Russian vodka and suck on the gas pipe.
This code died sometime in the late 1960s and was replaced by the code of the Higher Eclectica. The old hierarchy of the arts was dismissed as hopelessly reactionary. Instead, any cultural artifact produced by a member of a colonially oppressed out-group was deemed artistically and intellectually superior.
During this period, status rewards went to the ostentatious cultural omnivores - those who could publicly savor an infinite range of historically hegemonized cultural products. It was necessary to have a record collection that contained "a little bit of everything" (except heavy metal): bluegrass, rap, world music, salsa and Gregorian chant. It was useful to decorate one's living room with African or Thai religious totems - any religion so long as it was one you could not conceivably believe in.
But on or about June 29, 2007, human character changed. That, of course, was the release date of the first iPhone.
On that date, media displaced culture. As commenters on The American Scene blog have pointed out, the means of transmission replaced the content of culture as the center of historical excitement and as the marker of social status.
Now the global thought-leader is defined less by what culture he enjoys than by the smartphone, social bookmarking site, social network and e-mail provider he uses to store and transmit it. (In this era, MySpace is the new leisure suit and an AOL e-mail address is a scarlet letter of techno-shame.)
Today, Kindle can change the world, but nobody expects much from a mere novel. The brain overshadows the mind. Design overshadows art.
This transition has produced some new status rules. In the first place, prestige has shifted from the producer of art to the aggregator and the appraiser. Inventors, artists and writers come and go, but buzz is forever. Maximum status goes to the Gladwellian heroes who occupy the convergence points of the Internet infosystem - Web sites like Pitchfork for music, Gizmodo for gadgets, Bookforum for ideas, etc.
These tastemakers surf the obscure niches of the culture market bringing back fashion-forward nuggets of coolness for their throngs of grateful disciples.
Second, in order to cement your status in the cultural elite, you want to be already sick of everything no one else has even heard of.
When you first come across some obscure cultural artifact - an unknown indie band, organic skate sneakers or wireless headphones from Finland - you will want to erupt with ecstatic enthusiasm. This will highlight the importance of your cultural discovery, the fineness of your discerning taste, and your early adopter insiderness for having found it before anyone else.
Then, a few weeks later, after the object is slightly better known, you will dismiss all the hype with a gesture of putrid disgust. This will demonstrate your lofty superiority to the sluggish masses. It will show how far ahead of the crowd you are and how distantly you have already ventured into the future.
If you can do this, becoming not only an early adopter, but an early discarder, you will realize greater status rewards than you ever imagined. Remember, cultural epochs come and go, but one-upsmanship is forever.

Re:

2008-09-11T21:21:00.004-04:00

It is time that Renaissance Tan has undergone some changes. Not that it is stale, or outdated or the posts therein have gone rancid. It's more that the Ishmael behind them found another whale to survive. A long Odyssey has ended.

My good friend, incredible and inspiring author Will Hindmarch, wrote the following to me recently in a time of great need:

"Also, blog. Or write a short story. Something. You're too good a writer to not be doing it. Seriously."

I've had that advice before. From a loving mother. From friends. From inspiring teachers.

Perhaps it takes a sharp turn for things to really sink in. For self-realization to be a bit more obvious. For self-expression to be important.

So here I am. Revamped. Rededicated and resolute. There's a lot of "re" in me now and I intend to exploit that.

Φοῖνιξ

Hey, tax voters, check it.

2008-09-08T07:39:00.002-04:00

When are you going to get it?

LES STRAPONTINS!

2008-08-10T20:09:00.000-04:00

Russian Attack!

2008-06-25T09:51:00.001-04:00

Michael: spam is actually a great description of your joke philosophy :P

Ned: I prefer to call it the Soviet Approach.

Give one gun to like 10 troops and make them run towards the enemy until they overwhelm the opposition.

Icelandic Odyssey

2008-06-14T08:46:00.003-04:00

Tomorrow I'll be eleven days in Reykjavik.
Exploring democracy in its infancy.
Coming to know more of my Icelandic brethren.
Missing my Penelope.

Is this unpatriotic?

2008-05-18T07:47:00.002-04:00

Well gee, thanks Uncle Sam! I'd like to fully love my country too. When I was a kid, I pretty early on recognized that I'd rather have been born here than anywhere else in the world. I felt honored to come into what was one of the most free and accepting societies that there ever has been, where the individual is mostly allowed to find their own way . Growing up I kept that love, even though hints of iniquity started to shine through from a past I had not previously witnessed until I encountered them in history class. Slavery, Civil Rights: "mostly" righted but still present. At least we're headed in the right direction.

While only tangentially studied American Military History via my other historical pursuits and a lot of late nights watching the History Channel, there have been few people on this earth that I am in awe of more than the common soldier. From the musket-wielders to those trudging through the beaches of Normandy. From those pressed into the thick jungles of Asia to those now fighting in penance of an arrogant president. There's is to jump, headfirst, into situations I would have nightmares about. To be a proxy for their friends and family, their towns and counties, their states and country, so that others do not have to die. They are a spiritual manifestation of the will of the country and the physical manifestation that gets it done.

"What the Iraqi fighter found threatened America's vital alliance with Sunni militia.

A week ago in a police station shooting range on Baghdad's western outskirts, the American-allied Iraqi militiaman found what one or more GIs had been using for target practice -- a copy of the Quran, Islam's holy book.

Riddled with bullets, the rounds piercing deep into the thick volume, the pages were shredded. Turning the holy book in his hands, the man found two handwritten English words, scrawled in pen. "F*** yeah.""

I try not to let one bad apple spoil the basket, but when it is a symptom of a greater problem--that still after how many years the average soldier isn't instructed on proper keeping of the Quran, how important it is to remember that you're not only killing Muslims ("evil terrorists") but also working with them ("freedom loving police") or any damn thing about Abu Ghraib?!

I've seen video and voice recording of the soldiers in Iraq, of their "F*** Yeah" attitude, blaring death metal while shooting 50 calibers into buildings, unapologetic hatred for the enemy--all of course normal in such extreme circumstance. However, this is yet another example of complete lack of leadership and personal responsibility. Another shovelful of dirt out of the grave plot I might be forced to bury my patriotism in. This is not the soldier that I can or should believe in, and it saddens me that a position of such honor, that carries such a burden, could sully itself--and that those who command it allowed it to happen in the first place.

Of course, the story I quoted from today's CNN.com piece has a turn for the better, as the religious leaders in the surrounding town were gracious enough, wise enough and loving enough to accept a humble apology from the commanding officer when they could have very easily demanded retribution. It was a scene not unlike many before it, where the sins of the few were forgiven by the few and the world is better for it.

Thanks Wired!

2008-04-11T10:14:00.003-04:00

Thanks Wired, for providing further evidence that the majority of people are ridiculous.

Invention by deletion.

2008-03-26T11:35:00.005-04:00

I'm not a huge fan of just direct linking other people's ideas that I run across through my daily RSS feeds here. That's what shared Google Reader is for.

However, the idea behind "Garfield without Garfield" fascinates me. It is the true genius of Jim Davis--because, face it, Garfield him/herself has never broken the humor threshold.

It is the hidden story of Jon Arbuckle, which the "re-creator" puts perfectly:

Who would have guessed that when you remove Garfield from the Garfield comic strips, the result is an even better comic about schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and the empty desperation of modern life? Friends, meet Jon Arbuckle [Special props to those who "get" this link reference"]. Let’s laugh and learn with him on a journey deep into the tortured mind of an isolated young everyman as he fights a losing battle against loneliness in a quiet American suburb.

The Good Kind of B.O.

2008-03-20T10:25:00.003-04:00

So the last few of my admittedly-few-and-far-between blog posts have been about Barack Obama. I deleted them because I hate repetition in writing. This blog isn't only about politics, even if it is what I've felt moved to write about recently.

The first Obamapost detailed my excitement over him winning Iowa and my humble pleading of Iowa to forgive me for so diligently making fun of it and its Midwestern neighbors from my East Coast Ivory Tower. Go Iowa. The second lauded John Lewis, my local rep and long-time hero of mine, for switching his support to Barack. What took him so long, I don't know.

Well, plenty of other states have fallen suit. There's momentum. Fantastic momentum (excepting dumb Texas, Ohio, and Rhode Island, the new "Midwests" for me).

Just when you thought the train was headed in the right direction...

Barack tosses a huge ol' shovelful of coal into the furnace and the train levitates off of the tracks, turns skywards, Autobots itself a bit, turns into a freakin Millennium Falcon and jumps to lightspeed.

See one of the best speeches ever here: A More Perfect Union

A lot to catch up on....

2007-12-10T23:26:00.001-05:00

...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

Twiddlin thumbs.

2007-09-22T00:04:00.000-04:00

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

Twiddling my thumbs.

Heavyweights.

2007-09-10T23:31:00.000-04:00

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

I LOVE MY TEAM.

and they deserve love.

More tales from the office

2007-07-26T14:48:00.001-04:00

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 2^nd, 1999.

Morning

It’s supposed to be July 23^rd 1923, but it surely doesn’t feel like it. Brendan, diva that he is, is chugging his 2^nd 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 3^rd, 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 4^th, 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”]

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.

Icky Thumpin'

2007-07-05T10:20:00.000-04:00

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.

The season begins.

2007-07-02T11:55:00.001-04:00

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

Thanks to my team for an awesome SMUT.

||
||
||
\/

Game paradigms....

2007-05-29T11:54:00.000-04:00

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.

Quote of the month.

2007-05-10T20:32:00.000-04:00

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.

When two paths collide

2007-05-08T10:24:00.000-04:00

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.

Who does number two work for?

2007-04-30T16:28:00.000-04:00

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.

Oðinsdagr, the 28th Day of Martius

2007-03-19T14:31:00.000-04:00

I shall begin my labors here.

Big surprise

2007-03-08T18:15:00.000-05:00

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

Nedstradamus

2007-02-16T14:51:00.000-05:00

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?

2007-02-16T11:08:00.000-05:00

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.

Every breath I take

2007-02-15T10:33:00.000-05:00

..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.

Happy Valentine's Day!

2007-02-14T10:04:00.000-05:00

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

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

2007-02-09T17:00:00.000-05:00

(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!

2007-02-09T12:52:00.000-05:00

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!"

2007-02-09T10:14:00.001-05:00

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.

Space Headlines

2007-02-08T10:16:00.000-05:00

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

The Bearded One

2007-02-07T10:05:00.000-05:00

Chuck Norris "Trailer".

Just passing it along.

Department of Dumbland Security

2007-02-06T15:53:00.000-05:00

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.

I'm rubber and you're...

2007-01-29T14:33:00.000-05:00

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.

On the shoulders of ants

2007-01-24T14:26:00.000-05:00

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.

Struggle in contradiction to the apparatus?!

2007-01-22T16:59:00.000-05:00

Here's a pretty dream concert event for me...although getting there is prohibitive. I wish Atlanta was a hotbed of touring for all these bands. Seriously--RaTM (reunion!), RHCP, Air(!), and my new interests The Roots and Lupe Fiasco?! Good golly Mr. Molly. The real story is the possible (please please please) reunification of Rage Against the Machine. I've already bemoaned their absence from today's music scene--did they read my blog and decide to go to it once again? See article below.

Rage Against the Machine reunite for Coachella

After Chris Cornell and the remaining members of Rage Against the Machine formed Audioslave, it seemed like we’d never see Zack de la Rocha together on stage with his former Rage bandmates. In a surprise announcement that came down the wire today, it appears that after a seven year break-up, Zach de la Rocha and the boys are getting back together to headline this year's Coachella Festival.

MTV reports that the politically charged group will be getting back together with frontman, Zack de la Rocha to headline this year's Coachella Music Festival but as festival organizers state, the show would be a one-off gig only. Beyond the one show, the band's spokesman couldn't be reached for comment on the potential for longer term plans. However, a representative for Zack de la Rocha revealed the singer will not be commenting on the reunion.

This latest announcement brings the band full circle in terms of the Coachella festival, as Rage Against the Machine were also the headliners for the debut back in 1999. Sharing the stage with Rage at the Coachella festival will be former 2003 headliners The Red Hot Chili Peppers and Bjork, who headlined back in 2002. Also included on the bill are The Arcade Fire, Interpol, Arctic Monkeys, Ghostface Killah, the Decemberists, Air, the Roots, Sonic Youth, Kings of Leon, Kaiser Chiefs, Travis, Lily Allen, Lupe Fiasco, and Willie Nelson.

Before today's announcement, the music industry was abuzz with rumors of the Rage Against the Machine reunion, which former member Tom Morello tried to downplay in an e-mail to MTV earlier this month. Zack de la Rocha virtually disappeared from the music scene after Rage disbanded in 2000, only popping up sporadically to record with DJ Shadow, Saul Williams and Blackalicious. In recent years, there’s also been talk of a de la Rocha solo album, but nothing has materialized from the former Rage frontman.

Tickets for this year's eighth annual Coachella Festival go on sale January 27, 2007 with a three day pass running $249, while a select number on one day passes are available for $89. Debuting in 1999, the Coachella Music Festival is held each year at the Empire Polo Fields in Indio, California. The fest has played host to several tops acts in the music industry, including the Foo Fighters, Bjork, The Chemical Brothers, Tool, and Depeche Mode. The main attraction to the festival is it's continuous live music, which is performed on the five stages and tents - Coachella Stage, Outdoor Theatre, Gobi Tent, Mojave Tent, and the Sahara Tent. After the first event was staged in October 1999, organizers have since moved the show up to April as a way of avoiding the intense heat of the Mojave desert, which often climbs above 100°F.

Rage Against the Machine hit the music scene back in 1992 with the politically charged track “Killing in the Name,” which instantly generated a huge cult fan base across the country. As a result of the band’s immense popularity, legions of alternative fans fell in love with Zack de la Rocha's rap-based social commentary, backed by the band's hard rock sound. Rage Against the Machine topped the charts in 1996 with "Evil Empire" and again in 1999 with "The Battle of Los Angeles", the same year they headlined the very first Coachella festival.

Senior Year Selection

2007-01-18T10:41:00.000-05:00

A poem from my senior year in high school. MORE THAN 10 YEARS OLD?!
~~~~~~

Reunion at Gettysburg

Suffering is interned within these pages
Before me. Its cold
Hands just missed my fragile heart.
I weep for my lack of death,
As a textbook returns me back again.

From across battlefields, unmerciful age
Charges, causes worn and sagging.
These brothers share the flesh
Of their kin, splashed wet on their uniforms.
These are survivors of battalions
Who gulped their own blood,
The neighbors of scorched ribs,
Shredded arms cast far from
Nameless bodies,
And apparitions feasted upon by gangrene.

All mailed by death, some lacked
The legs, the strong pillars
Of forty years before.
Instead of thunderous metal
Ripping through eyesockets,
Tears embrace. It is the unspeakable
Bond between bastards who survive.
Body on body, they walk back to hell.
Mouring for the dead, they live
For the useless waste of lost fathers,
Forsaken children, and the beauty
Of understanding, of sharing between souls.
Bayonettes forced brotherhood
Between these sworn enemies, dripping of life.
It is why the Civil War
Cries for itself.

-E. Andrew Coker
1-13-97 2nd Revision

Blue Ribbon Winner

2006-12-29T17:27:00.000-05:00

While the theme was rejected by the rest of my team for this year's Rival theme (*2006 proved that we were indeed in a constant battle with ourselves...dur!), it is the theme of one of the latest AP/AOL polls. I'm not sure I trust that AOL part, considering they had that whole system of AOL Keywords for 5 years that nobody ever used and they flooded my personal mailbox with hundreds of coasters that just happened to look like 99 hour free trials. Well I showed them like I showed BMG music club back in the day (well, Edward Coker, Ned Coker, Suzanne Coker, and Andrew Coker showed BMG)...by signing up with multiple accounts and stretching into a free year of AOL. Don't tell them please, their lawyers are mean enough to squash my high school friend and his bulletin board dreams of Atlanta On Line. If you know what a BBS is, you get extra geek cred from me.

Back to bipolarity.

President Bush is unanimously the Hero and Villain of the year according to the American People.

In the villain category he won by a landslide. The kind that the Smashing Pumpkins covered. The kind that probably almost came out in a summer blockbuster at the same time as Deep Impact, Dante's Inferno, Volcano, Armageddon, and Speed 2: Cruise Control, but was scrapped at the last minute for fear that the theatre-going public would be saturated with implausible, escapist imagery. 1 in 4 put him at the top of the list. That makes him primo first pick for playground bully.

Osama Bin Laden, finishing behind him, had this to say..."At some point you begin to pity the whale and blame the Captain...even when the Captain is picking his nose in Iraq."

Saddam Hussein, facing execution some day before the end of January, replied, "I can't believe they didn't pick the Amerifascist that shot the dude in the face. I mean seriously, he's got that whole Grand Moff Tarkin vibe going on. Bush is more like a Watto type."

As for hero of the year, the President narrowly beat out the Troops in Iraq.

Peering to their left on the three-tiered medal stand, America's Troops observed, "Well, I guess if it weren't for him, we wouldn't have been invited to the 2007 Herolympics. We thought we'd peaked in 2003! Mission Accomplished sure was a sneaky trick at reverse psychology!"

Because Americans think celebrities are Heroic and Villainous, they were polled about Hollywood. 3 in 10 viewed Mrs. Spears as the creme de la crap. Big surprise. 2nd place Paris Hilton, Third Sign of the Apocalypse was shortly followed by Mr. Apocalypto, Mel Gibson.

29 percent of America is brainwashed into thinking Oprah Winfrey is da bomb, and Michael J. Fox finished 2nd. Third was superhottie George Clooney (I personally think it was for Goodnight and Good Luck, although I doubt if 1% of America liked the movie like they should).

And finally, because America and Celebrity can't be uttered in the same sentence without them--Angelina Jolie quadrupled her man's 2 percent of the vote. Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes got 2%, because 2% of the population is either made up of Scientologists or people who are afraid Cruise will lead an army of aliens against us unless they vote properly.

I know you were wondering...here's my list.

Villain of the year: Bush (a no brainer)

Hero of the year: Indiana Jones (also a no brainer)

Vikings are the new Pirate

2006-12-15T13:42:00.000-05:00

Oh epiphanic moment! How you twist the heart and sunder it in twain and then rebuild it stronger than before! What I held most deeply and tenderly in my soul as truth has been proven dire and sinister indeed.

Of the greatest question of all mankind, there existed in my mind no doubt as to the proper answer. I fought and I argued and I sought to prove that the Pirate was vastly superior to the Ninja and the Robot. But lo, like everything in Australia is upside down (as proven below)....my recent trip there has upended my long held belief. PIRATES! screamed the huge banner outside the Australian Maritime Museum in Sydney. So sinister, the giant sign! I simply had to make the pilgrimage inside...

...and what I found crushed me so completely, so dashed my love of the Piratical life on the rocks of corporatism and kitsch, that I can barely stand to look at the Jolly Roger or muster a half-hearted "Yaaarrrr!". One small paragrah informational panel surrounded by the single worst museum display for kids. Pirates have been reduced to a marketing ploy....the alternaprofession du jour. Awww, look at cute little Timmy with his eyepatch and plastic cutlass! These are not the pirates of yore. These aren't the men that drink gallons of rum and then gut you with a stilletto knife! These aren't the ones battling powerful storms on eight story ocean waves while barely holding on to a thread of life!

These are the nouveau pirate. And we should be ashamed. So I've been on a soul search for a new archetype. Clearly I could never surrender myself to Ninjadom. Only fools like my Good Friend Parag submit their will to the Robot side of things. Outside the box. Must think big.

VIKINGS! Nothing has tainted their will, their power, or their legend. On this great northern land I shall plant my flag...until the rest of the world catches up with me and ruins it.

Tipped scales

2006-12-05T15:12:00.000-05:00

The richest 2% of adilts own more than 1/2 of the world's household wealth.

The richest 10% of adults accounts for 80% of the assets.

The bottom 50% of the world's adult population owns barely 1%.

America has 6% of the world's population, and 34% of its household wealth.

Boingy Boingy

2006-11-28T22:24:00.000-05:00

Back from Australia. If you go there: Margaret River. Plain and simple--good wine, beeeeeeautiful landscapes, and wild kangaroos and bunnyrabbits galore.

Erin and I survived driving on the wrong side of the road. We survived the limited choice of fish and chips or fish and chips for lunch in many small towns. I watched her play awesome at Worlds. I came back with a renewed love of ultimate and a new hope and determination for the next year of play as well as a hatred for my injury during nationals. I now (mostly) understand cricket and rugby and now realize that they are much more exciting than baseball and hockey.

Seriously.

Its good to come back to the right side of the road, no option for fish and chips and free ketchup, and a couple of dogs. G'day Yanks!

Viva la vote!

2006-11-08T13:42:00.000-05:00

AMERICA RESPONDS TO RENAISSANCE TAN!
Thanks for reading and listening voters! Oh joyous House of Representatives, you are blue again--and probably Senate. And Donald Rumsfeld runs like a little girl.

Still a success.

2006-10-30T12:32:00.000-05:00

I don't want to say a whole lot more about Nationals this year. We were close--SO CLOSE. We can do better.

Despite the votes to the contrary, Jekyll and Hyde perhaps should have been our logo.

I pity the teams that will encounter me with a healed hamstring--I've been inspired by my teammates like I never have been before--and I'll try my hardest to live up to my index card.

Basic Comprehension.

2006-10-20T11:55:00.000-04:00

I read this, and I remember this. It's times like this where I remember the above, and see this.

His administration better take this election as a mandate from the people--it's a much clearer one than he got before.

Time after time they've done the wrong thing or nothing at all, and haven't been held (or held themselves) accountable.

I started writing a list of things--HUGE NATION AND WORLD CHANGING THINGS--that the administration and congress have done the exact opposite of their civic, public, and moral duty for...but I decided to swipe it and just plea that you vote with your minds and what you feel deep down in your heart is right.

Another thing on my mind. The media hasn't really been doing their job in Iraq. Whether that's their fault or the US Military's pathetic "enbed" program, I feel like I don't have any real visual reference for the war in Iraq. As a citizen, I should. Everything is very much third person.

Is this not why you are here?!

2006-10-02T17:08:00.000-04:00

I couldn't be prouder of my team. 15-4 in the finals. Winning all games. Bring it Sarasota. Atlanta is coming!!! ALL OF US!

Wag of the finger to Fox.

2006-09-25T10:18:00.000-04:00

Hallelujah! Preach it William!

Part one. Part two. Part three.

Some of the more interesting YouTube comments:

"Did anyone notice the video editing? Watch it again very carefully - whenever Bill leans forward in his chair (like he does when he feels intensely about something), they'd cut to a wide shot.. and then cut back very quickly. It's a trick used in suspense films all the time - the film editor at Fox is trying to make us think Bill's not just angry, he's unstable. If this sounds like paranoia to you, then show me any other TV interview *ever* where the editing looked like this."

"A President that can speak! And he is smart! What a frikkin difference from the retard chimp!!!"

"Little Chrissie Wallace got clobbered by the BIG DOG!!!"

"Clinton is an amazing lier. He is a gifted speaker but cant protect the american people."
--to which the next comment in reply was "You are absolutely retarded"

"Clinton should have just ripped his head off. You could tell that he wanted to."

"What really sucks is that we will never see clips of Bush asked similarly hard and biased questions, especially by Fox News. This is unfortunate for one big reason -- its sheer entertainment value. It would be like watching an episode of "Kids Say the Darndest Things" except the answers would be twice as nonsensical and instead of Cosby asking the questions it would be some smug douche bag wearing a giant pink tie."

Double Dose

2006-09-22T16:29:00.000-04:00

It's funny how philosophy can drip back into your life at odd times. Twice today, while waiting for PDFs to print at lower resolution (the glamorous part of my job--let me tell you!), I've been halted to ponder my spiritual path. The first occured while reading Promethean: The Created, the newest game from White Wolf Publishing--where I had my internship before I got hired on at DriveThruComics.com. It's basically a roleplaying game where you play a "Frankenstein's monster"--waking up as a fully grown "Promethean" having been made by another Promethean. The end goal of your character is to attain humanity through a long pilgrimage. Like Frankenstein's monster, your character is ultimately rejected by humans who instinctively realize that you aren't one of them....ANYWAYS, there's a passage describing one of the philosophies that characters can adopt--called the refinement of Gold or Aurum:

The soul is a riddle that drives the Aurum. What the soul is has confounded human philosophers for centuries, so the Promethean who takes up the Refinement of Gold doesn't expect to actually find the answer. (If she does at first, she loses this rather grandiose goal in short order.) According to some philosophies, a soul isn't a birthright, it must be attained through devotion, prayer, obedience or other spiritual practices. According to others, humans are born with a soul that they can then cherish or corrupt as they see fit. It's not hard to guess which of these mindsets the Aurum prefer.

Interesting stuff--I hadn't really thought of the "soul" in that regard. I've always adopted the other philosophy mentioned there. Either one is a good argument for "Right" behavior and seem equally compelling.

Then I read an article on Jet Li's Fearless, supposedly his last action film--which is a tragedy in and of itself. The below is an excerpt from the interview, which I found surprising.

"Fearless," Li said, perfectly fits his vision of wushu as more than just self-defense but a path to self-discipline and spiritual peace.

Herein lies the central dichotomy: the Chinese characters for wushu are Zhi (meaning "stop" or "do not") and Ge (meaning "fight" or "war"). Together, Li said, they translate to "stop fighting."

It's a contradiction that's weighed on Li, whose Hollywood films (among them "Romeo Must Die," "The One" and "Unleashed") have been more spectacle that spiritual.

"The message was only how to kick ass, to learn some special move to kill the bad guy," Li said. "But something was missing. [Wushu] is also about how to control yourself, how to become a nice person."

He adds: "Making movies is not my life; it's part of my life."

It's a distinction that was thrown into sharp relief when he and his family were caught in the 2004 tsunami while vacationing in South Asia.

On a trip to the pool with his two small daughters, Li noticed people running toward his hotel, so he started running too. Within a few steps, waves hit his hips, then his chest.

"Then it was too late, the water makes you float," Li said.

When he turned back, "Everything was gone," he said. "The trees were gone, the swimming pool was covered by the ocean. I was standing in the ocean. I looked back, nobody was there."

After a couple more steps, water hit his mouth. His nanny, holding his youngest daughter, started to struggle and the current pulled them out to the ocean.

"He tried to hold the baby, but the water took them out. I couldn't hold them anymore," Li said. "I started yelling . . . "

Hotel employees rushed to help them and brought everyone back inside, above the first floor.

"You're not very afraid at that moment. That was the first wave. But two hours later, the second one came. You think, `I'll die, OK.' But my little girls, my wife . . . that's scary," Li remembered.

That night, Li couldn't sleep at all, so he meditated.

"If God wanted me gone, the water would be here," he said, raising his hand above his forehead. "I couldn't save myself, I couldn't save my daughter, I couldn't swim--but I still have life. What can I do?"

The answer, Li decided, would be to ramp up charity work for his One Foundation (www.one-foundation.com) and to infuse his work with his Buddhist worldview.

"This is the perfect story to match my philosophy," Li says, referencing "Fearless."

The subject of the movie, Huo, turned martial arts into a sport, promoted it as a spiritual discipline and took on all challengers to defend China's martial honor in a series of high-profile exhibition fights against foreigners.

I was going to write about what he must've gone through during those seconds of sheer terror as he saw his daughter being taken out to sea while he was surrounded by one of the most viceral scenes of devastation that humanity can witness. I was going to write about how helpless he must have felt---an athlete at the top of his profession who couldn't swim nor save his family. Instead I'll say that it made me feel great admiration for him--that he is able to face that tragedy with an open mind thanks to years of mental discipline. It is his ability to address and then survive the aftermath of such a thing that makes him fearless and not foolhardy.

Pirorities

2006-09-18T13:16:00.000-04:00

We iron out some of our offensive and defensive issues. Michael Wood is an awesome co-captain. I am proud of my team. Rival won sectionals.

Now back to work. My job hits another milestone tomorrow as DriveThruComics.com goes "public"....i.e. I spend most of my day posting things to places all around the internet about it being live, drafting press releases, and scrambling like a maniac.

There are four main things that help me alleviate stress.

1) my wife, the lovely Erin Coker
2) my dogs - Los Nonsters and the Jibba Jab
3) cuteoverload.com
4) talking like a pirate....so enjoy the instructional video.

Dark Night

2006-09-11T16:55:00.000-04:00

NPR comes again with a nice series. "That Old Piece of Cloth". This is a transcript of Frank Miller's essay about 9/11 and his perception of patriotism. Miller is big news in the comics and entertainment world. On the 5th anniversary of the event I'm feeling a strange mix of mourning, anger, and a small amount of hope.

"Morning Edition, September 11, 2006 · I was just a boy in the 1960s. My adolescence wasn't infused with the civil rights struggle or the sexual revolution or the Vietnam War, but with their aftermath.

My high school teachers were ex-hippies and Vietnam vets. People who protested the war and people who served as soldiers. I was taught more about John Lennon than I was about Thomas Jefferson.

Both of my parents were World War II veterans. FDR-era patriots. And I was exactly the age to rebel against them.

It all fit together rather neatly. I could never stomach the flower-child twaddle of the '60s crowd and I was ready to believe that our flag was just an old piece of cloth and that patriotism was just some quaint relic, best left behind us.

It was all about the ideas. I schooled myself in the writings of Madison and Franklin and Adams and Jefferson. I came to love those noble, indestructible ideas. They were ideas, to my young mind, of rebellion and independence, not of idolatry.

But not that piece of old cloth. To me, that stood for unthinking patriotism. It meant about as much to me as that insipid peace sign that was everywhere I looked: just another symbol of a generation's sentimentality, of its narcissistic worship of its own past glories.

Then came that sunny September morning when airplanes crashed into towers a very few miles from my home and thousands of my neighbors were ruthlessly incinerated -- reduced to ash. Now, I draw and write comic books. One thing my job involves is making up bad guys. Imagining human villainy in all its forms. Now the real thing had shown up. The real thing murdered my neighbors. In my city. In my country. Breathing in that awful, chalky crap that filled up the lungs of every New Yorker, then coughing it right out, not knowing what I was coughing up.

For the first time in my life, I know how it feels to face an existential menace. They want us to die. All of a sudden I realize what my parents were talking about all those years.

Patriotism, I now believe, isn't some sentimental, old conceit. It's self-preservation. I believe patriotism is central to a nation's survival. Ben Franklin said it: If we don't all hang together, we all hang separately. Just like you have to fight to protect your friends and family, and you count on them to watch your own back.

So you've got to do what you can to help your country survive. That's if you think your country is worth a damn. Warts and all.

So I've gotten rather fond of that old piece of cloth. Now, when I look at it, I see something precious. I see something perishable."

Mr. Anderson

2006-09-08T15:27:00.000-04:00

So I don't have much time to post these days....what with DriveThruComics.com quickly approaching public launch and the ultimate season leaving our opponents nothing short of bruised, broken, and crying to their mommas. So I'll pass along a speech I read today by Mr. Anderson--Mayor Ross C. "Rocky" Anderson of Salt Lake City. While it's not the best writing around, it's a pretty good explanation of how I feel about the whole, you know, war and president thing--who have been dodging the bullet of blame for too long now...

LE SPEECH FANTASTIQUE

A patriot is a person who loves his or her country. Who among you loves your country so much that you have come here today to raise your voice out of deep concern for our nation — and our world? And who among you loves your country so much that you insist that our nation's leaders tell us the truth? So let's hear it: "Give us the truth! Give us the truth! Give us the truth! Give us the truth! Give us the truth!" Because if we had had the truth, we wouldn't be here today.

Let no one deny we are patriots. We support our nation's troops. Let's hear it for our nation's troops! We have so many veterans here today. Let's here it for the veterans! We are grateful to our veterans who have sacrificed so much for our freedoms. We love our country, we hold dear the values upon which our nation was founded, and we are distressed at what our President, our administration, and our Congress are doing to, and in the name of, our nation.

So to James Evans and these folks who financed this massive radio campaign these last few days, let them understand that blind faith in bad leaders is not patriotism. A patriot does not tell people who are intensely concerned about their country to just sit down and be quiet; to refrain from speaking out in the name of politeness or for the sake of being a good host; to show slavish, blind obedience and deference to a dishonest, war-mongering, human-rights-violating president.

That is not a patriot. Rather, that person is a sycophant. That person is a member of a frightening culture of obedience — a culture where falling in line with authority is more important than choosing what is right, even if it is not easy, safe, or popular. And, I suspect, that person is afraid —afraid we are right, afraid of the truth (even to the point of denying it), afraid he or she has put in with an oppressive, inhumane, regime that does not respect the laws and traditions of our country, and that history will rank as the worst presidency our nation has ever had to endure.

In response to those who believe we should blindly support this disastrous president, his administration, and the complacent, complicit Congress, listen to the words of Theodore Roosevelt, a great president and, I might remind everyone, a Republican, who said: "The President is merely the most important among a large number of public servants. He should be supported or opposed exactly to the degree which is warranted by his good conduct or bad conduct, his efficiency or inefficiency in rendering loyal, able, and disinterested service to the Nation as a whole. Therefore it is absolutely necessary that there should be full liberty to tell the truth about his acts, and this means that it is exactly necessary to blame him when he does wrong as to praise him when he does right."

President Roosevelt continued: "Any other attitude in an American citizen is both base and servile. To announce that there must be no criticism of the President,"—listen up Utah Republicans and James Evans, and all the good Republicans listening today—"or that we are to stand by the President, right or wrong, is not only unpatriotic and servile, but is morally treasonable to the American public. Nothing"—President Roosevelt didn't stop there—"but the truth should be spoken about him or any one else. But it is even more important to tell the truth, pleasant or unpleasant, about him than about any one else."

Those were the words of Teddy Roosevelt, a great president who knew the true meaning of patriotism. We are here today as truth-tellers. And we are here to demand: "Give us the truth! Give us the truth! Give us the truth! Give us the truth!" We are here today to insist that those who were elected to be our leaders must tell us the truth. We are here today to insist that our news media live up to its sacred responsibility to ascertain and report the truth, that our news media live up to its sacred responsibility to ascertain and report the truth rather than acting like nothing more than a bulletin board for the lies and propaganda of a manipulative, dishonest federal government.

We have been getting just about everything but the truth on matters of life and death, on matters upon which our nation's reputation hinges, on matters that directly relate to our nation's most fundamental values, and on matters relating to the survival of our planet.

In the process, our nation has engaged in a tragic, unnecessary war, based upon categorically false justifications. More than a hundred thousand people have been killed — and many more have been seriously maimed, brain damaged, or rendered mentally ill. Our nation's reputation throughout much of the world has been destroyed. We have many more enemies bent on our destruction than before our invasion of Iraq. And the hatred toward us has grown to the point that it will take many years, perhaps generations, to overcome the loathing created by our unjustified, illegal invasion and occupation of a Muslim nation.

What incredible ineptitude and callousness for our President to talk about a Crusade while lying to us to make a case for the invasion and occupation of a Muslim country! Our children and later generations will pay the price of the lies, the violence, the cruelty, the incompetence, and the inhumanity of the Bush administration and the lackey Congress that has so cowardly abrogated its responsibility and authority under our checks-and-balances system of government.

We are here to say, "We will not stand for it any more. No more lies. No more pre-emptive, illegal war, based on false information. No more God-is-on-our-side religious nonsense to justify this immoral, illegal war. We are here to say most fundamentally, no more inhumanity in the name of our nation." Let's raise our voices, and demand to the administration and our news media, "Give us the truth! Give us the truth! Give us the truth!"

Let's consider some of the most monstrous lies — lies that have led us, like a nation of sheep, to this tragic war:

Following September 11, 2001, the world knew that Osama bin Laden and al Qaeda were responsible for the horrific attacks on our country. Our long-time allies were sympathetic and supportive. But our president transformed that support into international disdain for the United States, choosing to illegally invade and occupy Iraq, rather than focus on and capture the perpetrators of the 9/11 attacks.

Why invade and occupy Iraq when it was bin Laden and al Qaeda who attacked our country and still haven't been brought to justice?

Vice President Dick Cheney and Condoleezza Rice represented to us, without qualification, that there were strong ties between Saddam Hussein and al Qaeda. In September, 2002, President Bush made the incredible and absolutely false claim that "You can't distinguish between al Qaeda and Saddam." President Bush represented to Congress, without any factual basis whatsoever, that Iraq planned, authorized, committed, or aided the 9/11 attacks. Our President and Vice-President, along with an unquestioning news media, repeatedly led our nation to believe that there was a working relationship between al Qaeda and the Iraqi government, a relationship that threatened the United States.

Even last week, when I met with Thomas Bock, the National Commander of the American Legion, I asked him why we are engaged in the war in Iraq. Why did we invade and occupy Iraq? He said, "Why, of course, because of the 9/11 attacks on our country." I asked, "What did Iraq have to do with those attacks?" He looked puzzled, and said, "Well, the connection between al Qaeda and Iraq." I was shocked. I was stunned. Here is a man who has criticized us for opposing the war in Iraq — and he is so completely wrong about the underlying facts to justify this war.

Not only has there never been any evidence of any involvement by Saddam or Iraq with the attacks on 9/11, but there has never been any evidence of any operational connection whatsoever between Saddam Hussein and al Qaeda.

And Colin Powell finally conceded that there is, and these are his words, no "concrete evidence about the connection." "The chairman of the monitoring group appointed by the United Nations Security Council to track al Qaeda" disclosed that "his team had found no evidence linking al Qaeda to Saddam Hussein." And the top investigator for our European allies has said, 'If there were (any) such links, we would have found them. But we have found no serious connections whatsoever.'"

President Bush, by the way, finally admitted nine days ago on Aug. 21 during a press conference that there was no connection between the attacks on 9/11 and Iraq. It's terrific that the President has now admitted what others have known for so long — but where is the accountability for the tragic war we were led into on the basis of his earlier misrepresentations?

Beside the fictions of Saddam Hussein somehow being linked to the 9/11 attacks and his supposed connections with al Qaeda, what was the principal justification for forgoing additional weapons inspections, working with our allies toward a solution, refraining from seeking additional resolutions from the United Nations consistent with international law, and hurrying to war — a so-called "pre-emptive" war — in which we would attack and occupy a Muslim nation that posed no security risk to the United States, and cause the deaths of so many thousands of innocent men, women, and children — and the deaths and lifetime injuries to so many thousands of our own servicemen and servicewomen?

The principal claim was that Saddam Hussein had weapons of mass destruction — biological and chemical weapons — and was seeking to build up a nuclear weapons capability. As we now know, there was nothing — no evidence whatsoever — to support those false claims.

President Bush represented to us — and to people around the world — that one of the reasons we needed to make war in Iraq — and to do it right away — was because Saddam Hussein was seeking to build nuclear weapons. His assertions about Saddam Hussein trying to purchase nuclear materials from an African nation and about Iraq seeking to obtain aluminum tubes for the enrichment of uranium were challenged at the time by our own intelligence agency and by our own scientists, yet President Bush failed to tell us that! Ten days, 10 days, before the invasion of Iraq, it was proven that the documents upon which President Bush's claim about Saddam Hussein trying to obtain uranium was based were forgeries. That was found 10 days before we invaded Iraq. However, President Bush did not disclose that to the American people. By that failure, he betrayed each of us, he betrayed our country, and he betrayed the cause of world peace.

Neither did the vast majority of the news media in this country disclose the forgeries — until it was far too late. It took our local newspapers here in Salt Lake City four months — until after the war was commenced and until after President Bush declared that major combat in Iraq was over — to report the discovery that the documents were forgeries — and, therefore, that there was no basis for the false claims about Saddam Hussein trying to build up a nuclear capability. By its failure to promptly disclose those forgeries, our news media betrayed us as well.

Had the American people known we were being lied to — had President Bush informed us that the documents were forged and that he had no other basis for his claim — had our nation's media done its job, rather than slavishly repeating to us the lies being fed to it by the Bush administration — our nation very well may not have allowed the commencement of this outrageous, illegal, unjustified war.

Then-National Security Adviser Condoleezza Rice said that high-strength aluminum tubes acquired by Iraq were "only really suited for nuclear weapons programs," warning "we don't want the smoking gun to be a mushroom cloud." Undisclosed by President Bush or Condoleezza Rice was the fact that top nuclear scientists had informed the Administration that those tubes were "too narrow, too heavy, too long" to be useful in developing nuclear weapons and could be used for other purposes. Dr. Mohamed El Baradei, director general of the International Atomic Energy Agency, agreed.

So, so much for the phony claims of Saddam Hussein building nuclear weapons, which were the primary claims justifying the rush to war, without working with the United Nations, without working with our long-time allies, without giving the weapons inspectors an opportunity to do their job, which if they had that opportunity they would have disclosed what we know now — and that is there were no weapons of mass destruction.

What were we told about chemical and biological weapons of mass destruction? These claims were as baseless and fraudulent as the claims about nuclear weapons. President Bush told us in his January 2003 State of the Union address that Hussein had the materials to produce as much as 500 tons of sarin, mustard and VX nerve agent. Then, in May of 2003, he made the outlandish statement that, it turns out to be totally false, "We found the weapons of mass destruction. We found biological laboratories."

Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld, the (same) secretary of defense who assured us that the war would take maybe six days, maybe six weeks, but he doubted as long as six months. He told us at that time, "We know where the weapons of mass destruction are." Vice President Cheney and then-Secretary of State Powell also joined in the chorus of lies and misinformation about weapons of mass destruction.

Of course, no stockpiles of biological or chemical weapons were found. Bush Administration Weapons Inspector David Kay, appointed by the Bush administration, noted that Iraq did not have an ongoing chemical weapons program after 1991 — a conclusion remarkably similar to statements made by Colin Powell and Condoleezza Rice just months before the 9/11 attacks — and before they sacrificed the truth in the service of promoting the Bush administration's case for war against Iraq.

On February 24, 2001, less than 7 months before 9/11, Colin Powell said that Saddam Hussein, and these were his words, "has not developed any significant capability with respect to weapons of mass destruction. He is unable to project conventional power against his neighbors," said Colin Powell, some seven months before 9/11. And in July 2001, two months before 9/11, Condoleezza Rice said, and these were her words: "We are able to keep his arms from him. His military forces have not been rebuilt." She told us two months before 9/11.

It is astounding how they changed their claims after the President decided to make a case for the invasion and occupation of Iraq! To think that we could be lied to by so many members of the Bush administration with such impunity is frightening — chilling. Yet these imperious, arrogant, dishonest people think we should continue to just fall in line with them and continue to take them at their word after we have been lied to time after time after time by these people.

The truth has been established. It is the established truth. Iraq had nothing to do with the 9/11 attacks on the United States. There is no evidence of any operational ties between Iraq and al Qaeda. And there were no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq.

What a tragedy, leading to greater tragedy. We are fed lie after lie, our media reinforces those lies, and we are a nation that has been led to a tragic, illegal, unprovoked war.

We are here today because of our values. We love our country. We cherish the freedoms and liberties of our country. We don't call those who speak out against our nation's leaders unpatriotic or un-American or appeasers of fascists, as we heard from our nation's secretary of defense yesterday. We have good, wholesome family values. In our families, we teach honesty, we teach kindness and compassion toward others, we teach that violence, if ever justified, must be an absolutely last resort. In our families, we teach that our nation's constitutional values are to be upheld, and that they are worth standing up, as we are here today, and fighting for. Our family values promote respect and equal rights toward everyone, regardless of race, regardless of ethnic origin, and regardless of sexual orientation. In our families, we teach the value of hard work and competence — and we are left to wonder about a President who, after receiving an intelligence memo about the threat posed by al Qaeda, decides to continue his month-long vacation — just before the 9/11 attacks on our country.

As we demand the truth from others, let us also face the truth. Our government all too often has not cared at all about the human rights of people in other nations — and it doesn't really care about democracy, unless it leads to the election of those who will do our bidding.

Consider the irony regarding the claims that Saddam had chemical weapons and, because of that, we needed to rush to war in Iraq. When Saddam Hussein was using chemical weapons — first against Iranians, then against his own people, the Kurds — our country provided him with biological and chemical agents and equipment to make the weapons. Presidents Reagan and George H.W. Bush refused even to support economic sanctions, let alone go to war against him, against Hussein for his use of weapons of mass destruction. What did our nation do in response to Hussein's use of chemical weapons, killing tens of thousand of people, when he actually had them and we knew that he had them? We befriended, coddled, and rewarded him — with government-guaranteed loans totaling $5 billion since 1983, freeing up currency for Hussein to modernize his military assets. Perhaps those in the United States government who aided and abetted Saddam Hussein to further US business interests, while he was gassing the Kurds, should be sharing his courtroom dock as he is now being tried for crimes against humanity.

No more lies, no more hiding of the truth — we can stand the truth — no more wars that more than triple the value of stock in Dick Cheney's prior employer, Halliburton — and which, as of last September, has increased the value of the Halliburton CEO's stock by $78 million. We are patriots. We are deeply concerned. And we demand change, now. I want to hear from you.

No more lies from Condoleezza Rice about whether she and President Bush were advised before 9/11 of the possibility of planes being flown into buildings by terrorists. No more.
No more gross incompetence in the office of the Secretary of Defense.
No more torture of human beings.
No more disregard of the basic human rights enshrined in the Geneva Convention.
No more kidnapping of people and sending them off to secret prisons in nations where they will be tortured.
No more unconstitutional wiretapping of Americans.
No more proposed amendments to the United States Constitution that would, for the first time in our nation's history, limit fundamental rights and liberties for entire classes of people simply on the basis of sexual orientation.
No more federal land giveaways to developers.
No more increases in mercury emissions from old, dirty, dangerous coalburning power plants.
No more backroom deals that deprive protection for millions of acres of wild lands in our nation.
No more attacks on immigrants who work so hard to build better lives in this nation.
No more inaction by Congress on fixing our hypocritical and inconsistent immigration laws and practices.
No more reliance on fiction rather than the science of global warming.
No more manipulation of our media with false propaganda.
No more disastrous cuts in funding for those most in need.
No more federal cuts in community policing and local law enforcement grant programs for our cities.
No more inaction on stopping the tragic genocide in the Darfur region of Sudan.
No more of the Patriot Act.
No more killing.
No more supposedly pre-emptive wars.
No more contempt for our long-time allies around the world.
No more dependence on foreign oil.
No more failure to impose increased fuel efficiency standards for automobiles manufactured in this country.
No more energy policies developed in secret meetings between Dick Cheney and his energy company cronies.
No more excuses for failing to aggressively cut global warming pollutant emissions.
No more tragically incompetent federal responses to natural disasters like Hurricane Katrina.
No more tax cuts for the wealthiest, while the middle class and those who are economically-disadvantaged continue to struggle more and more each year.
No more reckless spending and massive tax cuts, resulting in historic deficits and historic accumulated national debt.
No more purchasing of elections by the wealthiest corporations and individuals in our country.
No more phony, ineffective, inhumane so-called war on drugs.
No more failure to pass an increase in the minimum wage.
No more silence by the American people.

I, we can do this in Salt Lake City, we can do this throughout the entire country, and the world is going to hear us.

This is a new day. We will not be silent. We will continue to raise our voices. We will bring others with us. We will grow and grow, regardless of political party — unified in our insistence upon the truth, upon peace-making, upon more humane treatment of our brothers and sisters around the world.

We will be ever cognizant of our moral responsibility to speak up in the face of wrongdoing, and to work as we can for a better, safer, more just community, nation, and world.

So we won't let down. We won't be quiet. We will continue to resist the lies, the deception, the outrages of the Bush administration and this complacent, complicit, go-along Congress. We will insist that peace be pursued, and that, as a nation, we help those in need. We must break the cycle of hatred, of intolerance, of exploitation. We must pursue peace as vigorously as the Bush administration has pursued war. It's up to every single one of us to do our part.

Thank you everyone for lending your voices to this call for compassion, for peace, for greater humanity. Let us keep in mind the injunction of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.:

"Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter."

Kindling.....

2006-08-22T10:10:00.000-04:00

I apologize to my regular readers for the enigmatic nature of this post.

A lesson in thirds...

2006-07-25T16:46:00.000-04:00

Just a lil' article for your reading pleasure. Nothin' like a lil' Tuesday mornin' report by the American Bar Association to freak your socks off.

First business trip

2006-07-17T23:30:00.000-04:00

Oh glorious day...oh apprehensive sub-fortnight! I'll be heading to San Diego Comic Con International on Wednesday for my first ever business (sound link) trip. Yes, it will be full of talking and jibber-jabbering, waltzing about and undoubtedly requiring ibuprofen for my heel...BUT...

It shall be quite fun. My first "industry" show and a great Mecca of geekdom. I hope I get tix for the magnificent exclusive sneak preview of Samuel L. Jackson's finest movie ever...

2006-07-16T20:42:00.000-04:00

Digital Dog Duel!

Another bit of technology falls into place. Canine combat 2 the xtreme!

Viva Italia

2006-07-10T08:09:00.000-04:00

Here's what bad spirit earns you...no matter how good you are. Your headbutting ways were your downfall, Zidane! ITALY WINS THE WORLD CUP!

Click Zidane's Thuggish Mug to see him act naughty.

Those Special Two Days

2006-06-23T16:44:00.000-04:00

Saturn is here to welcome me to his special day, a part of the weekend along with Sun's day. But will they be days of rest? I THINK NOT! Days of fun? I THINK SO!

White Wolf (my workplace) cookout tonight, practice tomorrow, Eyewonder (Erin's workplace) party tomorrow night, practice Sunday, potluck Sunday night for team decision time.

I predict:

Beer (maybe something else)
Food
Sweat
Driving
Sleep
Showers, drinking water, and a comfy bed reaffirming their places as three of the awesomest things in the world.

Dewey and His Decimals.

2006-06-19T18:58:00.000-04:00

Ah, UHF. What a wondrous movie. Pure, unadulterated comedy at its near finest. In addition, it served as a bastion of my childhood, amongst other things. In many ways, it was one of the generators of thousands of funny inside jokes between me and my friend Robert.

Recently my job has proliferated. We are starting to get in a ton of new content, some of which will have to be scanned in.

I've been signing on more and more publishers, which involves at least 40 precise e-mails to different publishers with different content and all of whom have a different story. You thought captaining with Michael Wood was time consuming? Oi vey (sp?)! In addition it means overseeing all the content going in, prepping most of them, and remembering no less than 10 processes which must be done in the correct order for each of them.

Back to Wierd Al's movie. "Don't you know the Dewey Decimal System?!" - Conan the Librarian, UHF. Every day I have to further streamline my processes just to keep track of the information on all of the publishers. Who's got contracts in? Who's on the fence? When did I talk to Johnny McComicsums last?

Today the massive amount of processes reminded me of one of the most fascinating short stories I've ever read. The Library of Babel by Jorge Luis Borges. I read it during an English course I took in college about Apocalyptic literature. We read that, and like totally watched 12 Monkeys and stuff. It was awesome. I suggest giving it a read, its super keen.

Where's Joan Baez?

2006-06-14T09:21:00.000-04:00

Joan Baez, where are you? Music industry, where are you? I just wanted to make a quick note this morning that I can't believe there isn't a popular song or artist that's speaking out against the war on a grand scale. Sure, there are songs by Bruce Springsteen and countless others, but nothing anthemic. Most of the anti-war songs are remakes from decades ago. The Dixie Chicks are protesting in their own way, but its self-righteous.

If the music industry can produce such superhits as "The Macarena", "The Thong Song", and "Who Let the Dogs Out" I'd like to see just one out of the top 20 on billboard capturing the zeigeist of disatisfaction and frustration about the war, the mishandling of Katrina, and every other damn thing the administration and congress is doing now. There are some top songs out there now that are metaphorically veiled critiques (such as Gnarls Barkley's "Crazy"[and awesome video links]), but nothing with true cojones [another awesome video link].

Where oh where is the "Killing in the Name", "Fuck tha Police", "911 is a Joke", "Cop Killer", "Fortunate Son", "Get Up Stand Up", "Bullet in the Blue Sky", or "Sunday Bloody Sunday"? America has a rich tradition of protest songs and the music industry is betraying it.

End note: Where oh where has my Air America gone? Also, I've been pondering why we call this the "War in Iraq". Definitely a telling naming choice.

Fox News: Fair and Correct?

2006-06-10T15:49:00.000-04:00

Surely today, at some point, four horsemen will set out from somewhere and descend upon humanity. Surely, if it weren't for one of the signs of the reversal of apocalypse. FoxNews.com ran an opinion column that I actually agree with! I wonder if it will make the Daily Show or the Colbert Report. Check it out here.

The Common Man

2006-06-08T15:48:00.000-04:00

So I've thought of a concept for a new updatable blog, each post written from a different voice. Either in dialogue (multi-character reactions to the topic at hand) or monologue style (a la a diary).

Introducing:
THE GOON BREAK ROOM

Where underlings go to discuss their daily woes. So I've brainstormed a bunch of different types of goons (and I'm coming up with names for them), but I'd like to hear any suggestions you might have of your favorite archetypes...so comment away. I'll post here once I've written a post or two.

Back to your prison...

2006-06-06T09:51:00.000-04:00

....you damned pasty-white Feet! You've enjoyed the winter time long enough! That's right kids, it's Summer League time again. This year Erin and I have surrounded ourselves with some of our closest friends, a whole bevy of estrogonic firepower, and enough Rivalites to feed Janus. The "lush" fields of Grant Park shall once again feel the angry stomping of my feet. Foes near and far shall tremble at our sight.

"Up until the punching, it was a real nice party". Dirt Nap Shindig 2006.

No shirt no shoes some fun.

2006-05-30T12:47:00.000-04:00

Just wanted to say a special thanks to all those who made our Memorial Day weekend a blast. Erin and I had a wonderful time, even if our teams didn't win the tournament. We survived an eggshelling, a vulture attack, Sterzy Woozy, Cracker Barrhell, a mean maccaw, The Hardest Avocados Known To Man, Quistaritas, something that's wonderful and HUGE and that will make you glad you stayed, the crow's nest, the odour of sulfur, and several impersonations that are for some reason still hilarious. Vacation me bra!

CNN Ya Latah!

2006-05-22T09:21:00.000-04:00

My love-hate relationship with CNN.com, who brings me BREAKING NEWS! Has ended. This is the last straw. They haven't taken any of my constructive criticism to heart and now it's time to say goodbye.

In the great tradition of my coworker Conrad, who boycotts things left and right with seemingly irrevocable logic, I am adding CNN.com to my list. This morning's top story, of all the news in the world, is about a horse's surgery. Sure he won one of the races for the Triple Crown. But the mad and ridiculous rush to cover this minute-by-minute drama forced writers to mispell the word "doctor" in the headline. And they use what I so despise...the dreaded CNN.com "quotation marks" when describing his fate as a "coin toss".

Luckily, Foxnews.com is also running the same story as its headliner. I get to boycott them too, although I've only been there twice! Looks like I'm headed to NPR and Google News where they don't have a single mention of Barbaro's surgery.

---EDIT--- In the time it took me to write this post, the story has changed to "Barbaro eating, flirting with mares". I kid you not. So I gave CNN one last chance. And they disappointed me.

BOYCOTT ON!

You think you're an alcoholic?

2006-05-19T10:09:00.000-04:00

I'm all for weirdness. I work at a gaming company. Good times.

I'm even occasionally for a little relaxation. A couple beers. Good times.

But one can go overboard. WAY overboard like a condo tenant in Utah did. In 8 years of living there he filled his condo with about 70,000 empty cans. Almost all of them were Coors Light. That's 24 beers A DAY for 8 years.

He'd shut off his own water and heat. The piles of silver bullets had obscured his furniture and blocked the front door. The cans were worth $800 in recycling, which I am sure pales in comparison to the cleaning bill. The mailman had never delivered mail there.

But every month a check came for the rent.

Here are some obvious questions that really have no possible answer.

How did his liver survive on 24 beers a day?
Why did he choose Coors Light?
How did he avoid junk mail?
Did he have a sense of smell?
Why didn't he try to build something out of all those cans?

Some conclusions.

He was being hunted by werewolves. Coors Light is one of the few things that can stop them.
He must hate the environment.
He had one REALLY REALLY big party for the millenium.
He knows something about beer we don't.
His name is Barney Gumbell.
Or He is really David Blaine and has been training for 8 years for his next breath-holding stunt in a tub full of beer.
He missed his childhood time at Chuck E Cheese.

If you want to see the story, check out CNN.com. Apparently there isn't anything else important going on in the world today.

When your vote woulda counted...

2006-05-18T17:06:00.000-04:00

...and you don't use it, it really really is disappointing.

33.06%

33.26%

33.68%

50 million votes.

And America takes out my boy. We'll miss you Elliot!
Stupid stupid stupid other voters who got off their lazy butts.

Split Flea Soup

2006-05-17T16:20:00.000-04:00

Ahh, the folly of early science! Oh misaligned humours, oh spiritual justification, oh icky grody symptoms!

It's everybody's favorite pandemic. THE BUBONIC PLAGUE. Sounds kinda scary in a sort of distant past sorta way. Well, worry not dear reader. The past is behind us. An early Europe being held hostage by the whims of an army of dirty fleas is well distant. We owe so much to that time.

Monty Python and the Holy Grail wouldn't be as complete a masterpiece without its inclusion
Nobody would be able to imitate the voice of Fantasy Island little person Tattoo in saying "The Plague, boss, the Plague!"
Chihuahuas wouldn't rise in popularity to the detriment of their pet-competitors, rats
Ye Olde Headstone Shoppe of York wouldn't have done such a brisk business
Legends of witches, vampires, and other horrific nasties wouldn't pack the same punch without rumours they were the ones spreading the plague
The word Ebonics wouldn't sound as sinister as it does to the compassionate conservatives.

But, as all exciting things do, the plague has returned. Don't worry Frenchy le Frencher, German von Germanic, Italian Italiani, or neutral Swiss person, its near Salt Lake City!

The hallowed land of the Mormons is under attack from a powerful and evil flea circus. Before you call your relatives there and recommend Xtra Strength Canine Advantix for your uncle's dog Spotty, I'll be more specific. A campground at Natural Bridges National Monument has been closed because of bubonic plague detected among field mice and chipmunks.

Puxatawny Phil, Mickey, Alvin, and friends watch out! Apparently one of those guys got on a plane and flew to Mesa Verde National Park and Colorodo National Monument as well.

"We come down on the conservative side when it comes to closing campgrounds," said Joe Winkelmaier of the US Public Health Service. "We just like to be sure when it comes to plague."

Funny quote Fonz's nephew! Well, good to know that a field full of dead mice catches someone's attention. All I know is I'm going to start putting together a Bubonic Preparedness Kit. Here's what I'm planning on putting in it.

Plastic sheeting and duct tape. It keeps out anything!
Something to duck and cover under, like a school desk
Strategic plans to fight the mice in Iraq instead of here
Extra toilet paper for the extra diarrhea
A Hollywood makeup artist to prevent unsightly black patches of the skin
A fine quill, gilded ink, and anough papyrus to record the collected wealth of our civilization for posterity
Some tasty cheese to sacrifice to the lead rat
Pigpen, to whom fleas will flock instead of me

I urge you to do the same.

A softer side of Ned.

2006-05-16T00:36:00.000-04:00

If you are about to enter into a stressful situation (such as a job interview), have had a rough day, or just plain want to smile. You must...MUST....check out Cute Overload. I am not joking. It's a freakin cure-all miracle drug.

Pardon me?!

2006-05-12T15:28:00.000-04:00

Good ol' American Justice! The home of (almost) every great vigilante bent on righting the wrongs society lets slip through the cracks, America has had a long history of unflappable lawyers defying mafia bosses! Whistleblowers bringing down big corporations! The common man sitting wherever on whatever bus she damn well pleases.

Check this out. Or, better yet, balance it out. The government abruptly ended its inquiry into a warrantless eavesdropping program because the National Security Agency refused to grant Justice Department lawyers the necessary security clearance.

That's pretty damn tragic. I'm adding it to my long long long list of outrages against this administration, political turncoatery, and the inadherence to the same group of principles we use as justification to declare war on other nations. Recently there have been many criticisms of Russia's step back from Democracy. If that's a step back, then this is a giant leap, a cataclysmic-pounce-in-reverse. Oversight committees are there for oversight. No man or woman or agency made up of them is beyond the law. That includes those that make the law.

If they are that worried about necessary security clearance, then how do they have humans working for them in the first place? I had to sign an NDA for my new job. I had to sign it as an intern. Just slap one of them puppies down on the Justice Dept. desk and have at it. Unless you have something to hide. Or you are made up entirely of robots. Maybe killer robots who drink gas and eat innocent children.

Gnarly Dudes

2006-05-11T16:25:00.001-04:00

Just go out and buy it, however you can legally get it.

Gnarls Barkley - "St. Elsewhere".

I said get up and go and freakin buy it!

You've got to love it when two talented individuals come together and collaborate on something and that something turns out to be wonderful. Exceeding your expectations. For those unfamiliar: Danger Mouse (on the left) gained international notoriety for mixing Jay-Z's Black Album over the Beatles' White Album and shooting it out over the internet as the Grey Album. Cee-Lo (the short fella on the right) grew up in the Atlanta rap scene alongside Outcast and the Dungeon Family.

Plus, can you go wrong with a guy who looks like David Blaine and a dude who has one of the strangest southern accents you've ever heard both dressed up in an homage to A Clockwork Orange for a promo shoot?!

Like totally karmic

2006-05-08T13:22:00.000-04:00

Few things have disappointed me on a cosmic scale as much as last week when I got some takeout Chinese food and was denied my AMERICAN RIGHT to read my fortune upon cracking the eery pseudough of my after-dinner treat. My cries of outrage must've reached the heavens...for just now I reached to my prepackaged dessert to find two cookies packaged where one had been each time before. I named my two new friends Chang and Eng, for they had lived so long, so close together in in a plastic prison that must've tested the dexterity of the machine that sealed it and the social graces of the two cookies inside.

And much to my happiness, there were fortunes in each of them. For each fortune I read, I don't add "in bed" to the end like most people do. Instead, I try to imagine who wrote each cookie and why.

Fortune 1 (I ate the surrounding pseudough)
Penned by a descendent of Dr. Frankenstein named Teddy Franks (geneology was tough to prove considering the Americanization of the name once his grandfather arrived at Ellis Island in 1911), this bit of invaluable and enigmatic advice acts as both a family motto and as a call to arms for his new branch of research involving the Asian concept of chi and the time-honored pursuit of immortality.
"Try to channel excess energies into rejuvenation."

Fortune 2 (One folded morsel of pseudough is enough)
Lovingly crafted in a dark apartment strewn with pizza boxes, the glare of a computer with a greasy mouse and a crumb-caked keyboard by Harry Holcomb. Bereft of real friends thanks to staggering social behaviours he cares not to change but exhibits freely on various less-than-wholesome websites on a pay-by-basis, he has compartmentalized his bits of conversation into several easy-to-understand English phrases that are designed not to wow, but convey his "interest" in people. No thanks Harry, I'm not buying what you're selling. It's going to take more than a vacuous compliment to rattle my cage!
"You are talented in many ways."

Tracing back the branches

2006-05-03T11:39:00.000-04:00

Will Hindmarch, Vampire: The Requiem developer, renaissance man, and irrefutable fuddy-duddy, forwarded an article around to the office a week or two ago. I just got around to reading it this morning as I was waiting for my check engine light to be checked (everything's A-OK).

LARPing, a phenomenon in Scandinavia? Even I don't go THIS far!

It's an interesting trip through the prehistory of my job. For anyone who could in any way, shape, or form be considered to have a nerdish streak, this article will fascinate you. For those who yearn to understand their nerdish spouses, partners, or relatives, it might help you unlock their inner secrets.
Without further ado, here is the article.

Uncle Walt

2006-05-03T07:57:00.000-04:00

Disney is great and all. Some people even have an unfortunate obsession with it. Yet I speak not of the man subject to much conspiratorial speculation. He's the salt of the earth. American Poet. Introducing Walt Whitman. I heard this poem on NPR. Me like the words. Me repost them here.

Reconciliation

Word over all, beautiful as the sky,

Beautiful that war and all its deeds of carnage must in time be utterly lost,

That the hands of the sisters Death and Night incessantly softly wash again, and ever again, this solid world;

For my enemy is dead, a man divine as myself is dead,

I look where he lies white-faced and still in the coffin--I draw near,

Bend down and touch lightly with my lips the white face in the coffin.

The Adventures of Salaried Man!

2006-04-26T09:27:00.000-04:00

"To create a little flower is the labour of ages." - William Blake

Well, hell, ain't that the truth. I am proud to say that finally, after much time and effort, I have finally become a working stiff. My warm body will fuel the capitalistic machine and integrate itself into the great American Dream.

My wonderful internship (thanks Kelley!) at White Wolf Publishing has finally blossomed into a beautiful flower that is a paycheck. I'll be doing sales and marketing for DriveThruRPG, which sells .PDF (digital copies) of roleplaying game books. It's housed in the same offices as my internship, so I won't have to move my cubicle stuff far, if at all. Click the image above and BUY LOTS OF STUFF!!

Basically I'll be acquiring and maintaining publishers to host their products on our site. There are a couple things down the road that I'll be handling as well, but they might be top secret. So you'll just have to wait! I'll also be doing some traveling throughout the year on the company buck--to gaming conventions.

I know, I know. It's a rough life. But somebody's got to live it.

This post might be edited later with more info, but right now I'm off to finish up some ongoing projects for my internship.

Two-Times-Twitching Double Peace Signs

2006-04-25T11:23:00.000-04:00

As my wife will attest, few things are driving me crazier these days than the way the news is delivered. Don't get me wrong, NPR actually does a good job, even if they interrupt every third sentence with a plea for money. Every once and a while I'll get a smattering of BBC or some regular print media that's worthwhile. The Daily Show and The Colbert Report have more substance than that of which I speak.

CNN and FoxNews. I don't watch a lot of Fox News for obvious reasons. But CNN's Headline News and CNN.com are a few of the primary ways I receive information about the world around me. And it is weighing on my soul. They are all guilty (video link!). Every last one of them!

I speak of course, of the "Flying Tomato" Syndrome. Or, as the title of this post explains, the exessive use of quotation marks around items they consider newsworthy. I've been noticing it for a long time, but it wasn't till they started covering the Winter Olympics in Torino (remember this Bode Miller!) that I realized the full extent of the destruction wrought. Poor Shaun White, skateboarder extraordinaire and now-holder of one of those wondrous gold medals. He doesn't even know who he is anymore, as news reporters stopped calling him Shaun White and affixed the name "Flying Tomato" to him as a story hook and something that's supposed to make middle-aged-women-of-the-heartland-smile. I doubt any of his fans are middle-aged women.

Granted, most of the local news is actually gloom and doom. But there's some substance, some explaining of the world around us and the interaction between people. As far as I'm concerned, celebrities don't deserve news unless they do something good. The cult of personality needs to end at MTV for those without any real political power, especially if its just an exploration of their relationships. For the past two weeks or so there's been a top running story about the Cruise baby. Will he eat it alive? Does he keep Katie Holmes locked in a cage? It's name confuses Jewish people (audio link)? NOT news. There's a video of "Baby, dad, grandpa share birthday" but not of " Nepal protests give way to joy" on CNN.com right now.

So while it seems to be a severe prioritizing problem, is it really? I know that bashing 24-hour news cycles is becoming quotidian. But it is necessary. It is a business. The News is just as much a part of our education as adults as evolution/creationism is for our kids. People pick sides, but it is important. But nobody seems up in arms about the disturbing divergence from real journalism it has taken. It has become damn emasculated and fluffified. There's little or no coverage of warfare like we had in Vietnam. No pictures allowed of even the caskets of soldiers killed in combat. I haven't seen one story about a war veteran who was injured in combat. These are some of the most important stories of our time, and instead we get space taken up with "Teen diver bangs head on diving board". Blech.

Apologies for not updating this more recently in the past couple months. I've been a busy busy bee at work.

Poésie rouge de cou

2006-03-29T11:24:00.000-05:00

Warrior's Tomb

Gently raised on high
Amidst the long-bladed grass
Cinder-blocked Chevy

Good ol' Appalachia!

Conversation with an Olympian

2006-02-24T14:09:00.000-05:00

I am Bode, hear me snore!

I was IMing with my lovely wife today. On the bottom left of the little chat screen I see a link that says "IM with JoinBode". Being the Olympictician that I am, I immediately clicked on it. Here is my conversation with downhill skier and corporate icon, Bode Miller.

grantparkcoker: Bode Miller?

joinbode: Wassup Grantparkcoker! I'm JoinBode, brought 2 u by Nike. 2 read my privacy policy, click here.Ready 2 Join Bode? Type home right now!

grantparkcoker: Is anyone there?

joinbode: Anyone almost certainly is.

grantparkcoker: Bode, or Bodeist....why has Bode not won any medals?

joinbode: Because.

grantparkcoker: Because? Because Nike spent so much money supporting this ad campaign of him as a rebel when all he is is just a whiney sub-par athlete who peaked 4 years ago?

joinbode:

grantparkcoker: You are as vacuous and innane as Bode, you IM bot!

joinbode: What r u asking me?

grantparkcoker: I thought Bode Miller was more eloquent...vaguer, but more eloquent. Cannot the almighty Bode Miller type using full words such as "are" and "you"?

joinbode:

grantparkcoker: Exxon might run their oil tankers aground, causing the deaths of thousands of innocent animals. Nike might ruin the lives of hundreds of overseas children in their sweatshops...but you are ruining the olympic spirit Bode Miller! You are eroding the one thing capable of bringing the world together with your corporate ventriloquism!

joinbode:

grantparkcoker: How can I join Bode?

joinbode: JoinBode.com is a way 2 discover the philosopy of Bode Miller. And in the spirit of discovery, JoinBode.com allows u 2 explore Bode's environment: his home, where he trains, where he hangs out, his hometown.Ready 2 Join Bode? Click here.

grantparkcoker: Oh, I know what his environment is: home - Nike headquarters training place: his own mind! hangout: Ego-Central Pizza hometown: definitely not the medal stand.

joinbode:

grantparkcoker: Nike?

joinbode: What about Nike?

grantparkcoker: Why does Nike endorse you?

joinbode: Hmm... I really dunno why Nike endorses me.

Telling, I think. Oh, and did you see the one about the Olympian who didn't want to win a medal? Shani Davis. What's wrong with America? We're either 16 year old gnarly chicks or egotistic maniacs!

Employment! Sorta.

2006-02-02T13:57:00.000-05:00

After much searching, patience, and distress...I finally found an internship! Not only that, but it is perfect for what I was looking for on a personal and professional level.

You are now reading the blog of the sole marketing intern at White Wolf Publishing. Next time you see me in person or e-mail me, ask me about it. I don't have time to list the great things about it here. The ONLY bad thing about it is it is unpaid--so wish me luck as I try to weasel my way into a paycheck over the next few weeks by proving my worth to my boss and my bosses boss and whoever else here could be my boss. You can read more about White Wolf in the (slightly dated) Wikipedia Entry and more about the industry here.

For those often visiting members of my blog, I'm busy trying to make a name for myuself, but promise to post something else soonish.

From Kashyyyk to Corpus Christi

2005-12-15T09:16:00.000-05:00

Forget Mt. Rushmore, the Grand Canyon, Old Faithful, and even amber waves of grain. One of the universe's greatest natural wonders has found a new home in America. If there was ever a case for easing the barriers to immigration--it is the great Wookie, Chewbacca.

Yes, the actor that portrayed Chewie recently became an American citizen. His wife, a Texan (is that really in America?) seduced him to the wonders of the MOST BUTT-KICKIN' NATION OF LIKE ALL TIME!!! Since the actor (Peter Mayhew) is quite boring--kinda awkward, sinewy, and generally in need of a stylist--the press latched onto his more limb-ripping-capable alter ego.

But what if Chewbacca was real? What kind of job would he get here? In fact, what would other Star Wars characters do here in America? Would their lives be improved?

Chewbacca - Chewie would be the Jared of Rogaine. While not glamorous, it's a profitable way to exploit his hirsute nature. Step down: While being chased by Imperial Troops for smuggling is certainly dangerous, the inevitability of dying-on-the-inside-as-a-corporate-spokesperson is moreso.

Anakin Skywalker - Clearly would be come the next Great White Rapper. While his performance skills need a definite boost, he's got enough angst to go to 9 mile. Step up: the darkside of rapping is becoming lighter by the minute. Plus, an iced-out lightsaber would be cool.

Darth Vader - While technically Anakin, I'm separating them for the purpose of paying homage to James Earl Jones. This Dark Lord of the Sith would make a terrific fast food drive-through cashier (link with video). "Would you like to galacti-size that? (breathing noises)". Step down: MOST fast-food chains frown upon employees force-choking customers when they don't bus their own plastic trays.

Luke Skywalker - The next Gilbert Gottfried. "But I wanted to go to Tashi Station to pick up some power converters!!!" Whiney-ness personified. Step undecided: getting off of his farm on Tattoine alone would be an improvement, unless he moved to the midwest. That's right, I said it.

Princess Leia - Would immediately be pushed as the next-big-thing. Young, attractive, and has a powerful message--she'd be taught how to sing, go on tour, cut a record deal, and appear numerous times on TRL. When her hairstyle goes out of vogue she crashes hard and spends the rest of her life in a drug-addled personal hell of regret and remorse. Step down: Preferable to be tortured by Grand Moff Tarkin than end up dating Nick Carter.

Han Solo - He's destined to become a world-famous archeologist who travels the world and fights the evil Nazis while saving things that belong in museums. Step even: He still rakes in the ladies and has plenty of adventure and excitement. Of rcourse, there's a small chance he enters the LA police force as a homicide detective, in which case it'd be the second worst step down I ever saw as a movie.

Yoda - Our little green, grammatically-challenged friend would work down at the docks, unloading big cargo tankers with his mind. Definite step up from the Dagobah swamps. Also, working with mafia-tied foremen would be better than having to teach young boys how to center their minds.

Obi-Wan Kenobi - Ever the gentle soul, Obi-Wan will become a marriage counsellor. After years of solving people's problems with the wisdom of the Jedi, he will realize there is one thing missing in his life--love. Of course that love involves a young Padawan and a fetish for the rat-tail hairdon't. Step down: since his brand of passion is illegal in most states (except one or two).

Jar Jar Binks - As he eventually does in the movies, Jar Jar would become elected to the U.S. Senate. Step down: Hanging out with the likes of Pat Roberts is definitely worse than Natalie Portman.

Darth Maul - A man(?) in love with his makeup, Maul will take the logical step and go straight into the clown industry. Sadly, he'll slice more kids in half with his lightsaber than he'll make happy with his bantha-balloon animals...because that's who he is. Step down for obvious reasons.

R2D2 - R2D2 would be repurposed to refridgerate and distribute the newest Pepsi product at a heavy metal summer music festival. Step down: Having to smell the stench of a thousand sweaty kids is worse than getting zapped by blaster fire. On second thought, since R2 can't smell, it probably doesn't matter. Step even.

C3Po - Starbucks barista. The megacorp will soon begin replacing workers with robots. His encyclopedic knowledge of languages will help him understand the nuanced language of the caffeine addict and remember the exact ingredients and names of the umpteen million things on the menu. Step up: Threepio was never one for adventure and excitement. He's human-cyborg relations for chrissakes!

Senator Palpatine - He'd see the current state of affairs in politics and realize he doesn't have the potential for such corruption and skullduggery. Turning a complete 180, he'd become a high school science teacher, wowing the kids with the magic of electricity. Step up: the children are our future.

Jabba the Hutt - The great Hutt would be best suited as a car salesman, particularly for the Yukon Denali. His mafia background and slimy attitude would be perfect for the job. Secondarily, a giant SUV would be the only thing he'd be able to get around in. Step down: no Big Tent Sale Event will ever rival having Princess Leia dance for you whenever you want (and in a gold bikini nonetheless).

Boba Fett - On his way into the country, Boba would be flagged and detained by the Department of Homeland Security. Those guys don't mess around. Step down.

9 steps down, 4 steps up, 2 even/undecided. America is no friend to the galaxy far far away! I could go further, but that should be good enough to cover for the more casual Star Wars fan.

Cotton: The Fabric of Our Lives

2005-12-01T14:10:00.000-05:00

I saw this t-shirt on someone today. Not a better way to put it.

I am not herein professing my religious leaning (related sound link!)...that post would bore the junk out of you. However, there is a certain special someone who has professed his religious leaning and is in charge of more than one bomb.

Textbook Symbolism

2005-11-28T11:13:00.000-05:00

Today a piece of the facade fell off of the entrance to the Supreme Court. The unleashed vengeance of a protective Masonic curse? An autoaedicidal attempt of an animistic/anthropomorphic architectural achievement? Either way, clearly fueled by recent history. Don't blame me, you know who I voted for.

Rest In Peace

2005-11-22T11:10:00.000-05:00

Four million three-hundred twenty-one thousand. If you subtract around twenty-three thousand from that you have signed your own death warrant.

Or so the Death Dealers of Domino Day (see post) would have us believe.

On the fateful day in question only about 200,000 dominoes were left standing. The great wave had nearly made its way around the stadium. But from the crowd one lone figure rose against Goliath. With a small beak and high metabolism, our David lashed out in desparation and felled (only a few parts of) the Philistine's army (still a moral victory).

Lest you think I'm obsessed with white pock-marks on black plastic...this is a song of woeful mourning. Spokesman Jeroen van Waardenberg (who has entirely too many vowels in his name) said organizers made a "split-second" decision to shoot down the bird. "That bird was flying around and knocking over a lot of dominoes. More than 100 people from 12 countries had worked for more than a month setting them up," he said.

Geert the bird. Shot at a ripe young age after inadvertantly stumbling his way into a massive endeavor beyond his comprehension. What course of action could you have as a bird but to go completely psycho and start knocking down everything in sight?

Hearing the depressing news of another domino-related "statistic", I immediately held a seance. Geert chirped to me the great mysteries of life as revealed to him post-avicide. As the small and feathered apparition floated towards me--it spaketh.

Here it is the truth as revealed to me.

BIG BIRD IS NOT A BIRD AT ALL. HE IS A SERIES OF DWARVES STANDING UPONST EACHOTHER INSIDE A COSTUME MADE IN CHINA.

ALL UNKNOWN MEATS TASTE LIKE CHICKEN BECAUSE THE DUCKS HAVE ADVANCED BEYOND YOUR COMPREHENSION IN THE FIELDS OF GENETICS AND CHEMISTRY.

ALL WOODPECKERS ENJOY HEAVY METAL MUSIC.

SEAGULLS AND PIGEONS TARGET YOU NOT BECAUSE IT GIVES THEM SOME SADISTIC SATISFACTION, BUT BECAUSE THEIR EXCREMENT MAKES YOUR HAIR HEALTHIER. PANTENE PRO-V IS MADE MOSTLY OF WASTE COLLECTED OFF OF OLD STATUES IN LONDON.

ON THE GROUND, BIRDS CAN RUN FASTER THAN CHEETAHS. WE JUST CHOOSE NOT TO.

THE PENGUIN HAS BEEN SHUNNED BY THE BIRD SPECIES BECAUSE IT ALWAYS DRESSES FUNNY.

ONE OF THE GREAT CONTINGENCIES OF THE MASTER DEFENSE PLAN OF THE KINGDOM OF BIRDS IS: IF DOMINO ORGANIZERS ARE GOING TO START CARRYING GUNS, WE ARE TO ARM OUR CLAWS/TALONS WITH DOG POO. IT ISN'T GOOD FOR YOUR HAIR AND IT IS INFINITELY MORE PRECISE.

Immediately after the seance ended, I drove to the store and bought an umbrella-hat. I suggest you do the same. They are coming with fire in their eyes and burning vengeance in their heart. Oh yes, they are coming.

Chain Reaction

2005-11-10T21:26:00.000-05:00

There's something primal about the feeling. You see something fragile and complicated, and you want it to break or fail. Its like rubbernecking on the highway at the scene of a wreck. Or staring at a mole on someone's face.

I think that desire is two pronged like a snake's tongue. First, simply beholding something complicated working gives you the same nervous energy that drives people to theaters to watch horror movies. You know, or you think you know, that disaster is imminent. It's exciting, like waiting for Teen Extra #3 to get surprised and stabbed in a totally expected manner. If you've ever seen a cake making competition, you've felt the same thing when they transfer it to the judging table.

Second, there's an aspect of anticipating someone who has infinitely more patience (and probably more skill/dedication) than us be taken down a notch. They've put a lot on the line for a few seconds of glory, and we subconsciously want them to fail. It makes us feel good about ourselves.

What the HECK am I talking about? Chain Reactions.

People usually get their first joy with planned demolition in the form of Mousetrap. Roll something, move something, yada yada yada regular board game until...that magic moment. The RELEASE OF THE TRAP! Never before has someone been so happy to be caught. High fives all around! (watch the video in that last link)

The second wondrous encounter is with ye olde dominoes. Domino Rally was pretty popular back in the day, but its like an appetizer to the main course. 3, 992, 397 little fellas came together to form a perfect symphony. Wouldn't you hate to be THAT guy who accidentally knocked it over? I'm sure they'd get blackballed from the Domino Topplers Club.

But I bring to you the dessert....the climax of chain reactions. First, a 30 minute movie (clip is shorter) of a fantastical nature named "The Way Things Go". From a trash bag to a scooting ladder to a metallic tetherball, the kinetic energy just flows on down the line. Pretty darn amazing if you ask me.

And the marketing driven (pun intended) Honda commercial entitled "Cog" (smaller, crisper version). All parts from 2 hand-built prototypes (except the floor, walls, and final car). 606 takes in one week. 6 million dollar campaign. All supercool, and not a frame computer altered. You may ask yourself: "Self, how dem tires roll up hill like that?" Well country boy, there is a weight in each tire and when the tire is knocked, the weight is displaced and in an attempt to rebalance itself, the tire rolls up the slope. Its like magic (not Magic)!

This monumentous setup reminds me of the time I spent as a kid watching my dad build model ships. I always admired the patience and planning and tenderness it required. Good qualities missing of late in this caaaraaazy world.

The Luddite Returns

2005-11-09T16:12:00.000-05:00

Two posts now have been deleted minutes before posting because of IE crashing. Damn William Gates! DAMN HIM!!!!

The Trouble With Tribbles

2005-11-04T14:51:00.000-05:00

"Every sperm is sacred. Every sperm is great. If a sperm is wasted, God gets quite irate." So sayeth Monty Python, and His word be Law.

Luckily not everyone follows the law THAT closely, except apparently the Duggar family. This prolific couple has put even the peskiest intergalactic pest to shame. There might be hornier things in Arizona, but definitely nothing can hold a candle to the total package this family has to offer.

16 kids. SIXTEEN. One mom. A dad named Jim Bob. A site named www.jimbob.info (and a "new" site as well--one family with two websites?!)

Oh, could it get better? Yes. The kids all have "J" names.

Joshua, 17; John David, 15; Janna, 15; Jill, 14; Jessa, 12; Jinger, 11; Joseph, 10; Josiah, 9; Joy-Anna, 8; Jeremiah, 6; Jedidiah, 6; Jason, 5; James(link with sound) 4; Justin, 2; Jackson Levi, 1; and now Johannah.

I'm sure Jehosophat is next. A Jill but no Jack. A Jinger (!) but no Jennifer?

There are so many questions associated with this whole thing. So instead of going absolutely crazy retelling their magnificently strange story or pre-answering FAQs about the logistics of the whole thing, I'll just let you check out their websites.

Instead, I made a top ten list of things an 18-person family can do.

10. Shop at Sam's Club or else hold a weekly UFC to cut down on food costs!

9. Sink Rhode Island with their combined weight.

8. Make a more impressive one of these.

7. Win a human iditarod

6. Double----er 18-tuple date with the Partridge Family AND the Brady Bunch.

5. Create their own government, including three whole branches!

4. Have their own team dance competition

3. Maybe....just maybe...eat more than Takeru Kobayashi.

2. Dress up as almost all of Madonna's "image reincarnations" for Halloween.

1. Have their own Ultimate Team.

Fine, I have to say it. They are secretly grooming a clone army to take over the Republic.

Grab your lightsabers.

Ho, Ho, NOOOOOO!

2005-11-02T09:10:00.000-05:00

Well it was a long long week past, chillin out down in Sarasota. I watched some good ultimate. More on that later. Something infinitely more tragic than a dropped disc has occured.

Rome has again fallen. Elmer Dresslar Jr. is dead. While I understand the overwhelming desire to rend your clothes and pull out your hair and wail at anger at the cruel world...please try to contain your grief.

The voice of the Jolly Green Giant is no more. Now we are doomed to a future of unrealistic imitations of the once-great vocalization. The ginormous spirit of one man has long filled the ginormous body of a great vegetable automaton. What indeed is this greater thing he has become? Let's take a closer look at the JGG.

VH1: BEHIND THE CHLOROPHYLL

As far as I can tell (or make up), there are three schools of thought as to who the Green Giant is, where he came from, and what makes him so jolly. After the spotlights dim, the paparazzi go home, and the curtain closes we are left with the story of one being who is larger than life.

Theory One: The Guardian Golem
Who shall protect our children from supersizement? One theory posits that the Giant is indeed a magical construct of an ancient religion...an animated being given life to protect those within the Green Valley from the woes of the outside world. Born from a frantic and xenophobic sentiment into the life of an eternal bodyguard, a golem of sorts, the JGG is as powerful as the vegetables he protects.

But what would vegetables possibly have to worry about? The Big Fella is bound to a geographical location, patrolling the borders for dangerous foes. Yet on his beat, this chloro-cop fights a much greater psychological battle for the good health of children everywhere.

The forests to the east hold the ever-encroaching and increasingly-daring Keebler Elves. They use the skins of the baby sprouts as the secret ingredients of their cookies and wear their peas as leguminous lavalieres. Even Gregor Mendel, with his wicked brand of social darwinism, would shudder at their savagery.

But in the hierarchy of menaces, one stands ahead of the rest. Shrouded in a cape of cocoa, sucking the very life out of children everywhere and replacing it with a sugar...Count Chocula. Bram Stoker's real secret inspiration now unveiled. Let's just say that Vlad the Impaler was Strawberry Shortcake compared to him.

His fight versus the Avatars of Sugar has inspired countless of children to forsake their candy bars to consume broccoli and turnip greens. He, while soulless and empty inside, provides a heroic template for humanity and vegetablekind--tirelessly defending his realm with really big fists.

Theory Two: The Terrible Green Tyrant
The second theory has been gaining steam of late, although not as well-supported as the first (but highly popular among the 4-14 year old demographic). It contends that the JGG is indeed a cruel and unusual despot. He rules with an Iron Green Thumb over the rest of the vegetables. He is all-seeing, all-knowing, and all-powerful when compared with the pea-ons under him. His sadistic empire runs on the power of his subjects. He has the ears of Corn spies everywhere.

The will to live has left all vegetables under his gaze. They have become bland and kinda grody tasting sometimes. Before his reign (BJGG) they were thriving and tasty, cauliflower tasted like Oreos. Carrot Juice was more popular than soda. But then the darkness came. A monster in mind and body came from a land far away and smashed his gavel down upon the Green Valley. His demanding cries of "Ho, Ho, Ho" are not "jolly" until the feminine companionship he requests by it arrive at his side.

Theory Three: The Jolly Green Misunderstood Mutant
A final theory puts the Giant in the place many have been before: a misunderstood mutant misappropriated for marketing mayhem. Next time you see him, notice the slight decrescendo in his "Ho, Ho, Ho!", notice the forced smile, and notice the deep voice. They all mask the pain of a child star.

A sort of reverse Webster, the JGG is really a 2 year old boy with a giant green body. Ripped from his normal life by overeager parents looking to exploit their child for profit, he is unable to understand his fame and is destined for a future of disappointment. He began growing at an astronomical rate at age 1 when his dog brought him back a bone it had found in an old toxic waste dump. Since then he started his TV career as a stunt double (until he accidentally smashed a helicopter) and a love-interest (cross-dressed of course) until he landed the Green Valley gig. He's currently confined to a celluloid cell, contractually chained to his character and condemned to continual type-casting. One day he'll break free and seek treatment, trading his unreal "jolliness" for real, vivid human emotions he has long repressed.

What kind of voice was Dresslar Jr? Who is the Jolly Green Giant? Decide for yourself.

"Little Boy" Poetry

2005-10-25T14:24:00.000-04:00

“ ’45 Bald Eagle ”

Silver wings soar in space--
A lonely flight revealed
By a quick shadow overhead.

We're lifted gently up
As if coaxed by the same
Spectral winds that push
Clouds over earth.

Then...

Heavens and ground and water appear
To become one beneath this bird--
Beneath us--
As a city feels a new sun.
1/9/2003

Well I slapped on my galoshes and went wading through some of my old poetry today. Here's another one I wrote on the same day as "Fence" (reproduced below). If you need to, take a close look at the picture.

An old mission statement.

2005-10-25T14:02:00.000-04:00

"Fence"

You'll penetrate what I think when I spit out these chinks
In my armor, shedding my sword for words in this war,
Sharp broken stabs of syllables, parables, fables, filthy and able--
Molotov cocktails of justice between us, just us,
I respond to your cash lust with love lust--
Pushed thus by people pushing me down in their hearts
Heathen thoughts of turning my cheek to their thoughts
But I listen to learn while waiting my turn to return
Hatred with respect, having inspected my neck for nooses
Of my mind, maddened malice cinched over time,
Bitter from your crimes in our shared time.
Stuck with you in this age, feeling burning, dire, deadly rage--
Dealing dilemmas of martin or malcolm and guns or gandhi
Of church and state vs. my state of being, just living and seeing
Sights unwanted by those in my city, shut eyes replace pity.
No one knows that brothers exist on the other side of the fence,
Since we make it ourselves--hell, I've bought carpenter's nails,
Spent nights on my knees hammering myself in a jail.
But my cell has grown cold so I sold it for parts
To be a part of worlds outside with the wild,
Worthy truth as my bride and love as my child.

1/9/2003

Chapter One Be Done!

2005-10-22T13:20:00.000-04:00

It has been a long time coming, but the first chapter in a three part blog series is complete. A long logical road I have traveled. I submit to you one of the most important works of literature this world has ever seen, the gold fruit of my labor. Take it as a philosophical treatise or a missive sent to you from the gods on how to live your life...I don't care. But I will tell you that TRUTH ITSELF has used me as a vessel, a conduit if you will, to entreat your ears with fact.

Piratical Dominace Chapter I: Nonsensical Ninjas

Expect chapters II (Nuts and Bolts-Robots are Screwed) and III (Clowns - Not Smiling Anymore) to be published soon. They are further musings on the mighty career of the average buccaneer.

Mr. Microencephalous

2005-10-21T14:24:00.000-04:00

Greetings fellow hobbits, I'll be your guide on this little trip. Over there and back we'll go, from 12,000 years ago till now. Forgive me, I haven't introduced myself--some call me Mr. Baggins. But I go by many other names, Bilbo, Uncle, and even Homo floresiensis. Well that last one is reserved for those that really know me.

Confused? Scientists were recently poking around (as they always do) in Indonesia. Well, they have been since 2004 when they discovered a very small head of what they believe is a "hobbit-like" species, a possible precursor to mankind and definite humanoids. After they go through the awkward teenage years, all pimply faced (weirdest before/after pics ever), the best they have in store for them is a three foot height and a brain the size of a chimpanzee's. Just recently they are shocking the scientific community with an article on the jawbone of their eleventh subject. What else could you find in a moist cave in a very small isolated island chain? Apparently the answer to that question is dwarf elephants. Honey, I Shrunk the Archipelago!

An island with slightly more people on it, England, was host to one of the most famous scientific frauds in history. It is a story that has always captured my imagination. A laborer happens upon an old bone in a gravel pit...takes it to his local archeologist (every town needs a local archeologist) and the world takes note. Further excavations took place, despite the ominous warnings of the curse of the mummy! (Just kidding about the mummy part). More bones were found...a human like head with an apelike jaw? Must be our ancestor! Or, as discovered 40 years later, it must be a human head with an orangutan's jaw and teeth which had been chemically altered to look authentic and ancient.

This "earliest Englishman", the great hope of proving mankind sprung from its apeish beginnings in the glorious land of England, became the great embarassment of the UK scientific community. Charles Dawson, the local archaeologist, never had quite the same luck with the geek groupies that he did during those four decadent decades. Various people have been named as possible suspects in this whodunit, including Sir Arthur Conan Doyle himself(who incidentally resembles like Prez Teddy!)

Ah youthful scientific vigor! Oh nationalistic hubris! You two are so cute together. If you love yourself some good scientific mysteries, check out more on the Piltdown Man here and here. Cheers to science!! (that last link is a good one!)

SotG and UNCAT

2005-10-20T15:02:00.000-04:00

Yaaar!!!! Yes, just another bloodthirsty buccaneer. This one an Eastern European Pirate (EEP), pasting himself all over something called "Veto". Well it appears another bloodthirsty buccaneer is involved in "Veto"...but more on that in a bit.

SotG is short for one of the cornerstones of the Sport-I-Play, ultimate frisbee. Spirit of the Game is a part of the rules, and those unfamiliar with it can read about it here. I've had a long and storied past with some of the worst spirited teams ever assembled. UNCW and ECU were constant opponents for Duke. One particulary exciting game involved about 5 of the UNCW coach's friends atop a scissor lift they moved from endzone to endzone so they could occasionally toss empty beer cans at our team before a pull. At least they had the astuteness to drink all the beer. Blatant cheating, fouling, and trying-everything-they-could-get-away-with was standard practice. They've got a terrible reputation for "Carolina-Style" ultimate and that reputation is deserved.

One acronym down! One to go. UNCAT is the United Nations Convention Against Torture. Sorry I don't have something furrier or cuddlier to talk about. Now, I could go through the various articles, but pretty much UNCAT was where the nations came together and declared that hurting people (physically or mentally) in order to extract ( I hate that euphamism) information is wrong. This is also covered pretty well in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Both of these things are solidified realizations of an application of a more basic human understanding: the golden rule.

Back to the bloodthirsty buccaneer's Veto. One of the President's most fantastic powers is that of the veto. The American system of "checks and balances" so wisely put into place by those crazy founding fathers would be severely weakened if the executive branch didn't have it. But now is not the time for arguing about how messed up the checks and balances are becoming.

Now is the time for asking why the President is going to use his veto power for the FIRST time on a defense spending bill that provides funding for troops in Iraq because there is a provision in it to forbid torture by US troops. The measure passed the senate 90-9. A quick look at the Senate shows that this is an overwhelming bi-partisan effort. Remarkable, yet hardly suprising considering the national embarrassment of Abu Ghraib as well as allegations surrounding Guantanamo Bay. Seems only right to correct something that makes us look evil in the eyes of the rest of the world...not to mention something that makes the highlight reel of the latest terrorist training video.
A quick search for Abu Ghraib to hotlink a site to the above mention found pictures much worse (but still censored for decency) than those shown to the vast majority of the American Public.

The veto of the amendment which includes the bit about forbidding cruel and inhumane punishment would mean a veto of the whole $440 billion spending package, leaving troops on the frontlines in Iraq and Afghanistan without enough funding as early as November. Further risking our soldiers' lives so you can keep cruel torture around? *$&^$#@*(# !

I can't even begin to express how ridiculous I think this is...but it's for damn sure that the President and his administration are completely against the SotG of humanity. He seems undeterred about the use of torture and unembarrased about Abu Ghraib. If he "knows the heart" of Harriet Miers and wants to hire her, then he should look at the heart of the world and fire himself. Bloodthirsty buccaneer indeed.

From a post-election press conference, Nov 4, 2004.

Question: Do you feel more free, sir?

The President: Oh, in terms of feeling free, well, I don't think you'll let me be too free. There's accountability and there are constraints on the presidency, as there should be in any system. I feel -- I feel it is necessary to move an agenda that I told the American people I would move. Something refreshing about coming off an election, even more refreshing since we all got some sleep last night, but there's -- you go out and you make your case, and you tell the people this is what I intend to do. And after hundreds of speeches and three debates and interviews and the whole process, where you keep basically saying the same thing over and over again, that when you win, there is a feeling that the people have spoken and embraced your point of view, and that's what I intend to tell the Congress, that I made it clear what I intend to do as the President, now let's work to -- and the people made it clear what they wanted, now let's work together.

And it's one of the wonderful -- it's like earning capital. You asked, do I feel free. Let me put it to you this way: I earned capital in the campaign, political capital, and now I intend to spend it. It is my style.

The Luddite

2005-10-18T13:12:00.000-04:00

Well many days have passed since my last entry. Not one comment. Not ONE comment amidst all of the diamonds I've been throwing your way. Absolute gems. Pearls before swine? Ya'll don't oink--who am I kidding?

At any rate, I've got a backlog of topics and stories I'd like to relate to you. Epic epiphanies and ribald reasonings. But this troubadour has been beset by a curse. A dangerous warlock has decended from his ivory tower deep in the rainforest Seatl to best me in mortal combat. A lonely minstrel facing off against the most powerful magicks this land has to offer? I didn't stand a chance against the Wireless Network Setup Wizard.

All morning I'm the Pied Piper. I've been leading my mouse all over the damned place---the swamps of Your Network Places, the steep precipice of Windows Update, the dungeon of TCP/IP, and even the far-off shores of Random Internet Articles. But this Pied Piper is feeling more and more like St. Patrick. Ssssnakess in my sssyssstem! This Wizard is supposed to help me, to make things happy in Hobbiton. Yet vex me he doth. All I want to do is share files amongst computers and be able to print wirelessly. Is that too much to ask?!

As the madness creeps into my mind and thoughts of Gatesassination tickle my fancy, I am reminded of a piece of my name's history. Ned Ludd. He would stand for no such thing! He would fight the forces of evil with tooth and nail! He would find the quickest spatial melding of keyboard and monitor!

In my heart I know the digital revolution is just as powerful as the industrial one. We'll never be able to divorce ourselves of technology...but it sure is cathartic to imagine your computer blowing up every once and a while.

(Edited: Geez, one step ahead of CNN. Here's an article on the frontpage today!)

It's the Pitts

2005-10-13T10:46:00.000-04:00

I know of what I speak.

Leonard Pitts has long been one of my favorite writers. My mom nags me that I should "read the paper" to become edumacated. Well, he's actually a reason why I might pick up the AJC instead of reading it online (my other news sources: NPR, GoogleNews, Air America, CNN Online, and the occasional Creative Loafing). He writes for the Miami Herald, but is syndicated in the AJC. I urge you, plead with you, demand that you read his column.

You can find it online (it'll also be linked under my links). There's a short but painless registration process. It's worth it. His observations, subject matter, etc etc...damn good. Think I'm not a good judge of it? He won the Pulitzer Prize in 2004 for commentary.

Ain't Yo Pappy's Pottery

2005-10-13T09:06:00.000-04:00

Gorgeous isn't it. Two people in love...two more tender thespians there could not be: Swayze and Moore. What is one of the world's oldest artforms is getting a facelift--denying its romantic roots and forging onwards into the realm of superawesomeness. If our adored romantic dramaticons above were to play with ceramic's newest toys, they'd be a few fingrs short of a hand.

I bring you the ceramic knife. Not much glitz and glamor, but its edge can be sharpened to one micron width. Your hair is 100 microns wide. Pretty much the only thing sharper is a diamond, and they are 4eva! Now Ginsu tackles some things that ceramic knives cannot, so don't be so quick to write off your favorite infomercial.

OK wait, maybe I was wrong about the tenderness of today's ceramics:
How much ceramics info can you get? CeramicsToday might help. A "West Coast Funk" section? Looking to be a ceramicist? You might need a healthy dose of the Ceramics databases. "No thanks Ned, I really just want to spin a mug for my mom for mother's day." Fine. Don't be fascinated about the sharpest cutting tool ever forged by mankind. See if I care.

Simply Gorgeous!

2005-10-12T17:17:00.000-04:00

Just now I walked outside to pick up Erin's Previously-But-No-Longer-Lost Jersey (TM) from the UPS guy...and it hit me. Damn it is a gorgeous day right now in Grant Park. I urge any and all in the area to forsake their offices and go outside, just for a minute. It'll refresh and rejuvenate you. Fresh as an Irish Spring! That's it, I'm going back outside for another dose.