29.12.2006
22.12.2006
Closer
Once upon a time, I was a boy. A boy interested in fantasy and language. Since that time I have become a regular booger to shop for. My wife complains loudly about trying to find things that I'd like for Christmas/birthdays/easter/whatever. For this reason I'll sometimes present things that have interested me. If you're looking for a reaction you may well be disappointed, but I won't.
That's why I present two possibilities in the same ballpark. Even though I don't whip out board games very often, there are two that I don't own but have enjoyed immensely during their brief appearances in my life. Given my oldest's interest in board games, as well as the two youngers willingness to play anything, these should go nicely.
The best board game I've ever played was Talisman Once in a while this thing goes out of print, and it's near impossible to find. I looked into it a few years ago and the basic set was $75, a bit steep for most folk looking into a board game. I tell you that it is incredible. I think there's a sci-fi expansion for it as well, making it quite possibly one of the most flexible AND enjoyable board games.
Since folk aren't necessarily up for getting me Talisman, and who can blame them, I do have an alternative. I own the core set for HeroQuest (no, I'm not kidding) and would dearly love any of the expansions.
Prepainted miniatures and dice are nice, and will always hold a special place in my heart, regardless of how I seem to react to them. Particularly novelty or unusual dice (such as the stainless steel ones, or the giant plush or foam ones. Crystal shaped. I've never owned an electronic one, and the concept offends my other dice, who are very sensitive to the idea of being replaced. Clear, sparkly, smoky, marble dice are awesome. Each one should run between .50 (the ones I don't want) up to $1.5 Million (ancient roman dice, which I'd probably hire folk to retrieve, had I the money). A good price for dice depends, but I'd say that the ones running from $1.00 to $1.50 are pretty safe bets. If you find one that looks like a golfball and is in the area of $5.00, I'll never use it, but I'll probably cry fierce tears as I place it with the few other zocchihedrons I possess. Someday I shall wield a scepter decorated with those things, and a crown of glittering dice.
That's why I present two possibilities in the same ballpark. Even though I don't whip out board games very often, there are two that I don't own but have enjoyed immensely during their brief appearances in my life. Given my oldest's interest in board games, as well as the two youngers willingness to play anything, these should go nicely.
The best board game I've ever played was Talisman Once in a while this thing goes out of print, and it's near impossible to find. I looked into it a few years ago and the basic set was $75, a bit steep for most folk looking into a board game. I tell you that it is incredible. I think there's a sci-fi expansion for it as well, making it quite possibly one of the most flexible AND enjoyable board games.
Since folk aren't necessarily up for getting me Talisman, and who can blame them, I do have an alternative. I own the core set for HeroQuest (no, I'm not kidding) and would dearly love any of the expansions.
Prepainted miniatures and dice are nice, and will always hold a special place in my heart, regardless of how I seem to react to them. Particularly novelty or unusual dice (such as the stainless steel ones, or the giant plush or foam ones. Crystal shaped. I've never owned an electronic one, and the concept offends my other dice, who are very sensitive to the idea of being replaced. Clear, sparkly, smoky, marble dice are awesome. Each one should run between .50 (the ones I don't want) up to $1.5 Million (ancient roman dice, which I'd probably hire folk to retrieve, had I the money). A good price for dice depends, but I'd say that the ones running from $1.00 to $1.50 are pretty safe bets. If you find one that looks like a golfball and is in the area of $5.00, I'll never use it, but I'll probably cry fierce tears as I place it with the few other zocchihedrons I possess. Someday I shall wield a scepter decorated with those things, and a crown of glittering dice.
19.12.2006
Haven't been here a while.
My semester has ended... poorly.
But I can't really cling to that, I can only play real time shooters and blow stuff up. And the beginning of the holidays has proven that generosity is alive and well.
So, I'm going to post something altogether different... me in the altogether!
My wife says I can't really do that, so I'm going to post this instead. Firefly fans rejoice.
But I can't really cling to that, I can only play real time shooters and blow stuff up. And the beginning of the holidays has proven that generosity is alive and well.
So, I'm going to post something altogether different... me in the altogether!
My wife says I can't really do that, so I'm going to post this instead. Firefly fans rejoice.
12.12.2006
Try this for a moment...
| What American accent do you have? Your Result: The Midland "You have a Midland accent" is just another way of saying "you don't have an accent." You probably are from the Midland (Pennsylvania, southern Ohio, southern Indiana, southern Illinois, and Missouri) but then for all we know you could be from Florida or Charleston or one of those big southern cities like Atlanta or Dallas. You have a good voice for TV and radio. | |
| Philadelphia | |
| The Inland North | |
| The Northeast | |
| The South | |
| The West | |
| Boston | |
| North Central | |
| What American accent do you have? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz | |
24.11.2006
... and a little something to tide you over.
Just in case you hadn't heard: midgets! They're what's for dinner!
Turkey WriMo with...
Okay, so participating in NaNoWriMo has made me crazy with trying to insert it into everything I say and do. What can I say?
Except that I'm not getting much homework done. Dang it. My fault. Well, that and Turkey Day.
Oh, and the absolute drive to make money, some how, some way, so that my family doesn't wind up on the streets and I have to quit school.
Estimated funds needed for degree (after tuition): 55,000
The school will allow me to take out loans to get where I need, but it won't even point me in the right direction to survive the next two years in regards to paying mortgage and paying the bills.
I keep bugging them, but they won't yield so much as a hint.
Ideas, folks?
Except that I'm not getting much homework done. Dang it. My fault. Well, that and Turkey Day.
Oh, and the absolute drive to make money, some how, some way, so that my family doesn't wind up on the streets and I have to quit school.
Estimated funds needed for degree (after tuition): 55,000
The school will allow me to take out loans to get where I need, but it won't even point me in the right direction to survive the next two years in regards to paying mortgage and paying the bills.
I keep bugging them, but they won't yield so much as a hint.
Ideas, folks?
20.11.2006
Nano Blues
I realize that it's my own fault, but I'm just under 4K on the word count and I'm feeling like a total slacker. This week might be good for me. Who knows?
Now, if I could just finish baking 35 pies/breads/cakes, I'll be set.
Now, if I could just finish baking 35 pies/breads/cakes, I'll be set.
Tarot-bull
A friend of mine tossed this up on her livejournal account, so I thought I'd show you my results:
You are The Hermit
Prudence, Caution, Deliberation.
The Hermit points to all things hidden, such as knowledge and inspiration,hidden enemies. The illumination is from within, and retirement from participation in current events.
The Hermit is a card of introspection, analysis and, well, virginity. You do not desire to socialize; the card indicates, instead, a desire for peace and solitude. You prefer to take the time to think, organize, ruminate, take stock. There may be feelings of frustration and discontent but these feelings eventually lead to enlightenment, illumination, clarity.
The Hermit represents a wise, inspirational person, friend, teacher, therapist. This a person who can shine a light on things that were previously mysterious and confusing.
What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.
19.11.2006
Think of the children
I belong to a church, and that church is doing a Christmas activity.
And I'm on the activity committee.
The other people, including the person in charge are failing their charge. No matter what I say.
They've been directed to focus on the children this holiday season, something that I'd heartily endorse, and they are not to use Santa, because Santa smokes and isn't very Christian. I'll ignore the giving things to others and sacrificing self and so forth. I'll let the idea that Santa is a bad man slide. After all, that was word from on high.
So, this season we'll be focusing on Jesus and children.
What this means is that everything is supposed to be very reverent and quiet. For the kids. Well, I'll admit that some children will appreciate the quiet. It'll make the echos that much more vibrant.
They nixed the idea of ham for dinner, because no one likes it. Instead we'll be having turkey again one month after Thanksgiving. Turkey is forever.
And, for dessert, we'll be having... persimmons.
No, I'm not kidding. Pumpkin pies, sweet potato pies, fruit cake, etc. were all voted out in favor of giving 280 people over one persimmon each. 35 tables, IIRC.
Best bet for getting all you can handle in food is to show up and occupy a table all to yourself, as they'll be distributing food by table (enough for 8), instead of letting people wander through a line (it'll be quieter this way).
I'll admit that I'm criticizing the structure, and that whole "judge not" thing keeps running through my head, but I'm totally comfortable with being judged in regards to my thoughts here, and my input.
For instance, I suggested planning this stuff in August, instead of waiting until 3 weeks before the activity.
I suggested activities that the children might enjoy. Crayons and children singing, and so forth. Engage the kids. For the love of all that's holy, don't try to shut them up!
Sorry. It's a bit like putting a cork on a soda bottle and shaking really well. I know this isn't going to go well, and I don't see a way of fixing it.
I'm out.
And I'm on the activity committee.
The other people, including the person in charge are failing their charge. No matter what I say.
They've been directed to focus on the children this holiday season, something that I'd heartily endorse, and they are not to use Santa, because Santa smokes and isn't very Christian. I'll ignore the giving things to others and sacrificing self and so forth. I'll let the idea that Santa is a bad man slide. After all, that was word from on high.
So, this season we'll be focusing on Jesus and children.
What this means is that everything is supposed to be very reverent and quiet. For the kids. Well, I'll admit that some children will appreciate the quiet. It'll make the echos that much more vibrant.
They nixed the idea of ham for dinner, because no one likes it. Instead we'll be having turkey again one month after Thanksgiving. Turkey is forever.
And, for dessert, we'll be having... persimmons.
No, I'm not kidding. Pumpkin pies, sweet potato pies, fruit cake, etc. were all voted out in favor of giving 280 people over one persimmon each. 35 tables, IIRC.
Best bet for getting all you can handle in food is to show up and occupy a table all to yourself, as they'll be distributing food by table (enough for 8), instead of letting people wander through a line (it'll be quieter this way).
I'll admit that I'm criticizing the structure, and that whole "judge not" thing keeps running through my head, but I'm totally comfortable with being judged in regards to my thoughts here, and my input.
For instance, I suggested planning this stuff in August, instead of waiting until 3 weeks before the activity.
I suggested activities that the children might enjoy. Crayons and children singing, and so forth. Engage the kids. For the love of all that's holy, don't try to shut them up!
Sorry. It's a bit like putting a cork on a soda bottle and shaking really well. I know this isn't going to go well, and I don't see a way of fixing it.
I'm out.
18.11.2006
Royal Pain
Ha!
Went to see Casino Royale today with the Mrs. She was beautiful. I looked like a total schlub. Seriously. I don't think I could've picked a worse outfit and I'm sitting next to a woman that should've been in the movie.
Gah!
She suggested I get my hair cut. I'm working on buffing up, so between the two I could look reasonably like the latest Bond if I gave it a go.
So, we could be a couple. Although I don't she'd want to be a "Bond Girl" considering what tends to happen to them.
What do you mean you haven't seen it?
Want to know what it's like?
Well, pop some corn, sit down on your couch, and have a team of ninjas strike out at you. ("Not now, Cato!")
Seriously. This is a tense movie with lots of action. Don't expect anyone you care about to live. Don't expect anyone you don't care about to live. Heck, you know that guy on the street today? Yeah, he was offed.
Okay, not everyone dies. Judi Dench, for example. She lives. I think Bond does to, but it's a wierd line there.
The ending? It's like this: With the revolver, in the Hall.
To sum up: I liked it. If you've liked any Bond flick ever, you'll like this one. He's a bit more rough than some of your other Bonds, but the body count is, I think, much lower. You'll be surprised somewhere.
"Shaken, not stirred?"
"Do I look like I give a damn?"
Went to see Casino Royale today with the Mrs. She was beautiful. I looked like a total schlub. Seriously. I don't think I could've picked a worse outfit and I'm sitting next to a woman that should've been in the movie.
Gah!
She suggested I get my hair cut. I'm working on buffing up, so between the two I could look reasonably like the latest Bond if I gave it a go.
So, we could be a couple. Although I don't she'd want to be a "Bond Girl" considering what tends to happen to them.
What do you mean you haven't seen it?
Want to know what it's like?
Well, pop some corn, sit down on your couch, and have a team of ninjas strike out at you. ("Not now, Cato!")
Seriously. This is a tense movie with lots of action. Don't expect anyone you care about to live. Don't expect anyone you don't care about to live. Heck, you know that guy on the street today? Yeah, he was offed.
Okay, not everyone dies. Judi Dench, for example. She lives. I think Bond does to, but it's a wierd line there.
The ending? It's like this: With the revolver, in the Hall.
To sum up: I liked it. If you've liked any Bond flick ever, you'll like this one. He's a bit more rough than some of your other Bonds, but the body count is, I think, much lower. You'll be surprised somewhere.
"Shaken, not stirred?"
"Do I look like I give a damn?"
08.11.2006
I bring you...
The finest in shopping oddities across the web.
While others may claim to show you the nuttiness out there, I crawl beneath the underbelly of the human psyche, roll over, and tickle its little tummy.
Behold! Toad Sweat!
(Additional product for the trade secrets of the fraternal order of paternity here
While others may claim to show you the nuttiness out there, I crawl beneath the underbelly of the human psyche, roll over, and tickle its little tummy.
Behold! Toad Sweat!
(Additional product for the trade secrets of the fraternal order of paternity here
06.11.2006
This message brought to you by...
Hot and spicy
You'll never find it again if I fail to mention the name up front:
Leonard Nimoy Should Eat More Salsa.
I kid you not.
Leonard Nimoy Should Eat More Salsa.
I kid you not.
For Howard, Dave, and Humanity...
Dave Kellett's Sheldon is moving to http://www.sheldoncomics.com .
25.10.2006
Now that you mention it...
A few people have pointed out to me that it's hopeless to vote for someone that is destined to lose. I should vote for a winner.
You know what? That kind of thinking backed King George in the American Revolution, and I won't hear it. You have some logical argument, like I'm all pro-choice and so is candidate y? Let's talk.
On the other hand, some obscure politico thinks that having only two parties might be bad for America.
His initials included a "G" and a "W".
Oh, and let me toss out my favorite statement: "The only wasted vote is the one that is not cast."
Get out there and do your country a service by expressing yourself. I'd prefer you didn't vote against someone so much as for, but I promise not to judge you.
You know what? That kind of thinking backed King George in the American Revolution, and I won't hear it. You have some logical argument, like I'm all pro-choice and so is candidate y? Let's talk.
On the other hand, some obscure politico thinks that having only two parties might be bad for America.
His initials included a "G" and a "W".
Oh, and let me toss out my favorite statement: "The only wasted vote is the one that is not cast."
Get out there and do your country a service by expressing yourself. I'd prefer you didn't vote against someone so much as for, but I promise not to judge you.
23.10.2006
Nanoo?
I'm gearing up for Nanowrimo, and...
You know what? I'm going to tape a key down and walk away. 50K words later, I'll get my shirt and a tremendous feeling of accomplishment.
Because whatever idea I come up with will not bear up under scrutiny... they will invariably be incredibly stupid.
Even if I think they're brilliant. Or, at least, passable.
So, this way, I won't have wasted the effort, but I'll still have "participated."
Go
Me.
You know what? I'm going to tape a key down and walk away. 50K words later, I'll get my shirt and a tremendous feeling of accomplishment.
Because whatever idea I come up with will not bear up under scrutiny... they will invariably be incredibly stupid.
Even if I think they're brilliant. Or, at least, passable.
So, this way, I won't have wasted the effort, but I'll still have "participated."
Go
Me.
21.10.2006
'Tis the season
I play a few online RPGs, PBeM, and recently ended a run playing one of my all-time favorite characters: Dot.
Dorothy Sullivan had a knack for invention that went beyond description... one might call it cyclopean, were it a tomb. In-between some of the game we ran what were known as "green room" scenes. We were permitted to let imagination run wild. During one Halloween season I presented this:
Dot nodded and finished up her lantern. It took on an
eery green backlight casting itself over her as well.
The top ripped itself open and a humanoid of pumpkin
gore and seeds lurched out, as if trying it's last to
escape a torment that its hollow eyes and wretched
face could not describe. Seeds it used as fingers,
clawing outward toward a nearby pumpkin until it
ceased, as a body, to move forward.
Out of the pulpy creature came seeds, half-hopping
in some crazed attempt at mobility, tendrils of gore
lurching forward until the seeds found themselves upon
the surface of a new, fresh, victim. They then
burrowed under the skin, a crackling noise emanating
even as the surface crawled. A face of undescribable
horror etched itself across the fore and sinewy claws
reached forth from its mouth and clutched at open air
before finding the eyes and pulling, the smell of
burning pumpkin assaulted the nostrils as it silently
screamed and the flesh melted into a bubbling mass,
leaving the crisped culprits arrayed in the center.
Dot looked on in glee, "pumpkin seeds are ready!"
Dorothy Sullivan had a knack for invention that went beyond description... one might call it cyclopean, were it a tomb. In-between some of the game we ran what were known as "green room" scenes. We were permitted to let imagination run wild. During one Halloween season I presented this:
Dot nodded and finished up her lantern. It took on an
eery green backlight casting itself over her as well.
The top ripped itself open and a humanoid of pumpkin
gore and seeds lurched out, as if trying it's last to
escape a torment that its hollow eyes and wretched
face could not describe. Seeds it used as fingers,
clawing outward toward a nearby pumpkin until it
ceased, as a body, to move forward.
Out of the pulpy creature came seeds, half-hopping
in some crazed attempt at mobility, tendrils of gore
lurching forward until the seeds found themselves upon
the surface of a new, fresh, victim. They then
burrowed under the skin, a crackling noise emanating
even as the surface crawled. A face of undescribable
horror etched itself across the fore and sinewy claws
reached forth from its mouth and clutched at open air
before finding the eyes and pulling, the smell of
burning pumpkin assaulted the nostrils as it silently
screamed and the flesh melted into a bubbling mass,
leaving the crisped culprits arrayed in the center.
Dot looked on in glee, "pumpkin seeds are ready!"
18.10.2006
Oh, Happy Day!
Satan
Many of you know that my ex is well beyond abnormally cranky and into full-blown Stupotic (or, if you like "duh-raazy").
The latest episode revolves around the document the court gave us a while back and UB's birthday. See, this year his birthday falls on a weekend, and it's her weekend... but it's supposed to be MY turn to have him on his birthday.
I have been warned not to fight her on this, because this state favors the mother regardless of mental acuity/state, fitness, or any other quality. Bonus points for crying on the stand. Because men are all evil.
That's equal rights for you.
So, she calls me up. "There's a conflict," she says. I hadn't noticed one, so I pull out ye olde parchment of legal wisdom... no. Seems pretty plain to me. Your weekend except where it infringes on his birthday (defined as being from 6 the previous day to 6 the day of... go figure). Those hours I get visitation.
"But it's my weekend! Why are you trying to steal from me? I'm his mother!" Yes, she tries to pull that crap on me. I tell you that if hitmen weren't so darned expensive, I'd be sorely tempted.
"But," I respond, "I'm not stealing time from you. It's not your time in the first place. It's a bit like my owning a bunch of bananas that I bought at the store two weeks ago and having you claim that I deprived you of them."
"Well, you did."
I cannot roll my eyes far enough to get them away from the affliction she has. I only hope it's not catching.
"Look, I'll give you two options... you can split the weekend with me, or you can take an extra day sometime that doesn't interfere with school."
"Fine. I'll pick him up Friday and take a day during Christmas vacation."
Admittedly, I'm feeling ruffled at this point, so I might've said something about her inability to decipher the word "options" which suggests a menu of multiple choices, of which she will have to decide not to have at least one of these. Since I presented a list of two, that pert near narrows down the choices. Pick one, damn you.
"Fine. I'll pick him up on Friday."
This was the last email I got from her, and I responded simply that, should we not agree on anything, I'll have to assume that she means to abide by the letter of the document. That being the case, I'll pick him up from her house around 6 p.m., Friday.
As a footnote, I'd like to add that I have inquired as to UB's opinion on this. He likes the idea of sharing that day with both parents, and urges that we not fight over the time. Sadly, it looks as though she will not relent until she gets what she feels is hers, even by stealing time from me. I've told her of his opinion, but she doesn't seem to care. If he can see what she is, and has figured out that she only sees him as a pawn in some sort of "game" between the "adults", I hope that she has trouble living with the result, becomes an alcoholic bingo-addict wannabe porn-star and ends up in a dark alley trying to peddle anything she can get her hands on in exchange for Elmer's Glue. If it happens I'll post pictures here.
I'll feel sad for him, because it's never good to watch anyone slide that far, but I'll laugh heartily at night and sleep pretty well.
But she's a peach of a lady... woman... thing, my ex.
They sell peaches by the roadside in Georgia. I'm just saying...
Many of you know that my ex is well beyond abnormally cranky and into full-blown Stupotic (or, if you like "duh-raazy").
The latest episode revolves around the document the court gave us a while back and UB's birthday. See, this year his birthday falls on a weekend, and it's her weekend... but it's supposed to be MY turn to have him on his birthday.
I have been warned not to fight her on this, because this state favors the mother regardless of mental acuity/state, fitness, or any other quality. Bonus points for crying on the stand. Because men are all evil.
That's equal rights for you.
So, she calls me up. "There's a conflict," she says. I hadn't noticed one, so I pull out ye olde parchment of legal wisdom... no. Seems pretty plain to me. Your weekend except where it infringes on his birthday (defined as being from 6 the previous day to 6 the day of... go figure). Those hours I get visitation.
"But it's my weekend! Why are you trying to steal from me? I'm his mother!" Yes, she tries to pull that crap on me. I tell you that if hitmen weren't so darned expensive, I'd be sorely tempted.
"But," I respond, "I'm not stealing time from you. It's not your time in the first place. It's a bit like my owning a bunch of bananas that I bought at the store two weeks ago and having you claim that I deprived you of them."
"Well, you did."
I cannot roll my eyes far enough to get them away from the affliction she has. I only hope it's not catching.
"Look, I'll give you two options... you can split the weekend with me, or you can take an extra day sometime that doesn't interfere with school."
"Fine. I'll pick him up Friday and take a day during Christmas vacation."
Admittedly, I'm feeling ruffled at this point, so I might've said something about her inability to decipher the word "options" which suggests a menu of multiple choices, of which she will have to decide not to have at least one of these. Since I presented a list of two, that pert near narrows down the choices. Pick one, damn you.
"Fine. I'll pick him up on Friday."
This was the last email I got from her, and I responded simply that, should we not agree on anything, I'll have to assume that she means to abide by the letter of the document. That being the case, I'll pick him up from her house around 6 p.m., Friday.
As a footnote, I'd like to add that I have inquired as to UB's opinion on this. He likes the idea of sharing that day with both parents, and urges that we not fight over the time. Sadly, it looks as though she will not relent until she gets what she feels is hers, even by stealing time from me. I've told her of his opinion, but she doesn't seem to care. If he can see what she is, and has figured out that she only sees him as a pawn in some sort of "game" between the "adults", I hope that she has trouble living with the result, becomes an alcoholic bingo-addict wannabe porn-star and ends up in a dark alley trying to peddle anything she can get her hands on in exchange for Elmer's Glue. If it happens I'll post pictures here.
I'll feel sad for him, because it's never good to watch anyone slide that far, but I'll laugh heartily at night and sleep pretty well.
But she's a peach of a lady... woman... thing, my ex.
They sell peaches by the roadside in Georgia. I'm just saying...
13.10.2006
Exit, stage left
This guy cracks me up.
He's a dance instructor running on a poorly considered (or worded... or both) independent platform for the position of Governor of the state of Colorado.
I am so voting for him. (Lost causes are my "scientific speshee-al-ity."
He's a dance instructor running on a poorly considered (or worded... or both) independent platform for the position of Governor of the state of Colorado.
I am so voting for him. (Lost causes are my "scientific speshee-al-ity."
Don't Download This Song
| "Weird Al" Yankovic's first single from his new album "Straight Outta Lynwood" (in stores September 26). Video directed and animated by Bill Plympton. | |
12.10.2006
These floors are dirty as...
I do ramble when I'm tired, and today I got hold of the GOP (I hope), and sent them this:
For a long time now I've been frustrated with the focus the Republican party seems to have on the Democrats. While, as an independent voter, I could vote either way, I tend to swing for the Republicans because I believe they share most, if not all, of my opinions. I've decided that such shall not be the case any more.
One thing is abundantly clear to me: politicians will not cease to sling mud unless forced to do so. I will, from this day forth, vote for the candidate who slings least. This may mean that "3rd" parties, whackos, and freaks get my vote. So be it.
This time around the Republicans have absolutely repelled me with the awesome amount of mail, phonings, and radio ads (thankfully I don't watch television). But, why would I tell you this? Why tell the Republican party what they are doing wrong in my eyes?
Because they can fix it. They can regain my vote through simply acting like they actually promote family values, America, and basic goodness. If my children behave like that, should I not reprimand them, tell them what they've done wrong, and let them think on the error of their ways?
This is not a new trend, and I don't imagine my one message will get through, but if I cannot hope for a better future, what have I to hope for?
Sincerely,
Charles Ulysses Farley
P.S. Stop sending me stuff, mailing stuff, or polling me. I don't care that you aren't "endorsed by a candidate." Your behaviour reflects on all Republicans. You just wind up making yourselves look bad.
For a long time now I've been frustrated with the focus the Republican party seems to have on the Democrats. While, as an independent voter, I could vote either way, I tend to swing for the Republicans because I believe they share most, if not all, of my opinions. I've decided that such shall not be the case any more.
One thing is abundantly clear to me: politicians will not cease to sling mud unless forced to do so. I will, from this day forth, vote for the candidate who slings least. This may mean that "3rd" parties, whackos, and freaks get my vote. So be it.
This time around the Republicans have absolutely repelled me with the awesome amount of mail, phonings, and radio ads (thankfully I don't watch television). But, why would I tell you this? Why tell the Republican party what they are doing wrong in my eyes?
Because they can fix it. They can regain my vote through simply acting like they actually promote family values, America, and basic goodness. If my children behave like that, should I not reprimand them, tell them what they've done wrong, and let them think on the error of their ways?
This is not a new trend, and I don't imagine my one message will get through, but if I cannot hope for a better future, what have I to hope for?
Sincerely,
Charles Ulysses Farley
P.S. Stop sending me stuff, mailing stuff, or polling me. I don't care that you aren't "endorsed by a candidate." Your behaviour reflects on all Republicans. You just wind up making yourselves look bad.
08.10.2006
Ahem...
It really is challenging to describe just how in (-sane, -nane) my ex is. I may have to create a new adjective for her condition. For the time being, I shall settle for telling you of the latest issues and her response.
I'm fairly content with the schedule as it is. From my perspective there are few conflicts and that it gives my ex a chance to stop yelling at me and (assumably) yell at other people. Sometimes she makes fun of them, but it's a little like seeing a retarded pit bull try to sing the Monkee's greatest hits. I digress.
The latest issue is UltraBoy's birthday, which falls on the same day as her weekend. This annoys her because she's missing out on valuable parenting time. She wrote the schedule, so I don't have a problem with it conflicting with her at all. No, I didn't have a chance to refute or edit. Bad lawyer... no cookie.
At any rate, she's been trying to trade that weekend for another. While I have parts of other weekends, and even tacking 2 extra days onto her summer schedule, she has denied me, owing to her "wanting to spend time with him on his birthday". Whiskey? Wouldn't that go against trading the whole weekend in the first place?
Not only that, but this weekend was traded for some time in January so that UB could go to a family wedding. But she's still yelling about it.
Lemme give you the latest text:
I am done talking about about Ultraboy's birthday weekend. You are dead set on stealing every minute you can from me. I have offered different solutions about correcting this scheduling conflict, with no help from you. I refuse to let you cheat me out of one more second with my son. If you want him for his birthday you will trade me the weekend before or after his birthday, but Ultraboy will not lose out on time with me. And as you heard he did not do his Latin homework assignment because he feels like he does not get to see me enough and wanted to do it when he was with you instead.
As for band, Ultraboy has to be getting your monetary difficulties from somewhere, maybe it is your lack of food in the house, your not letting him have dinner, his feeling of not wanting to eat as much so his brothers will have enough to eat.
I did not know she was failing two classes or that he was in a remedial writing class. I do not know these things because you have not told me these things. Because again that would mean you growing up and not acting very immature when it comes to me having anything to do with Ultraboy's life.
If Ultraboy has an instrument why did he ask me for one? I feel you can not afford one (or food) and you are to pride full to let me know.
(end message)
Part of this message gives good indication as to why I prefer to do everything by email. I may have foolishly given the word about his failing classes over the phone and not followed up. I don't think that's the case. Otherwise, she's full of crap. Totally. I actually feel like inventing new curse words as well, as the old ones just aren't sufficient. The rest I can back up with cold data (and leftovers). But, should I present such evidence, she tells me I'm making it up, that I'm a liar, and that everybody knows it.
Did I tell you that she said in a conflict over the visitation schedule she wins?
I'm thinking of asking her if our time is of equal value, in her opinion, because I know what her answer, were it honest, would be. And the courts might actually support me a bit with that in hand.
I'm fairly content with the schedule as it is. From my perspective there are few conflicts and that it gives my ex a chance to stop yelling at me and (assumably) yell at other people. Sometimes she makes fun of them, but it's a little like seeing a retarded pit bull try to sing the Monkee's greatest hits. I digress.
The latest issue is UltraBoy's birthday, which falls on the same day as her weekend. This annoys her because she's missing out on valuable parenting time. She wrote the schedule, so I don't have a problem with it conflicting with her at all. No, I didn't have a chance to refute or edit. Bad lawyer... no cookie.
At any rate, she's been trying to trade that weekend for another. While I have parts of other weekends, and even tacking 2 extra days onto her summer schedule, she has denied me, owing to her "wanting to spend time with him on his birthday". Whiskey? Wouldn't that go against trading the whole weekend in the first place?
Not only that, but this weekend was traded for some time in January so that UB could go to a family wedding. But she's still yelling about it.
Lemme give you the latest text:
I am done talking about about Ultraboy's birthday weekend. You are dead set on stealing every minute you can from me. I have offered different solutions about correcting this scheduling conflict, with no help from you. I refuse to let you cheat me out of one more second with my son. If you want him for his birthday you will trade me the weekend before or after his birthday, but Ultraboy will not lose out on time with me. And as you heard he did not do his Latin homework assignment because he feels like he does not get to see me enough and wanted to do it when he was with you instead.
As for band, Ultraboy has to be getting your monetary difficulties from somewhere, maybe it is your lack of food in the house, your not letting him have dinner, his feeling of not wanting to eat as much so his brothers will have enough to eat.
I did not know she was failing two classes or that he was in a remedial writing class. I do not know these things because you have not told me these things. Because again that would mean you growing up and not acting very immature when it comes to me having anything to do with Ultraboy's life.
If Ultraboy has an instrument why did he ask me for one? I feel you can not afford one (or food) and you are to pride full to let me know.
(end message)
Part of this message gives good indication as to why I prefer to do everything by email. I may have foolishly given the word about his failing classes over the phone and not followed up. I don't think that's the case. Otherwise, she's full of crap. Totally. I actually feel like inventing new curse words as well, as the old ones just aren't sufficient. The rest I can back up with cold data (and leftovers). But, should I present such evidence, she tells me I'm making it up, that I'm a liar, and that everybody knows it.
Did I tell you that she said in a conflict over the visitation schedule she wins?
I'm thinking of asking her if our time is of equal value, in her opinion, because I know what her answer, were it honest, would be. And the courts might actually support me a bit with that in hand.
04.10.2006
Damn your eyes!
Satan is having another conniption. She says, once more, that we are not feeding our children, but, most importantly, we're not feeding Ultraboy.
It was possible, had he continued to goof off, that he might've missed dinner. Once. I have to have some means of punishing him for these things, and I can't spank him. Yelling has no effect. And it would be once.
Then she brought up the banana bread thing again... the one where, all summer, all I fed my kids was banana bread. Even though a CPS agent came out and noted that, although our house was a wreck, we had plenty of food and evidence that it was getting eaten by kids (aside from the banana bread).
An interesting part of the conversation went like this:
"And you know that paper you're reading?"
"Was reading, but yeah."
"It says that every time there is a conflict, I win. And that you are a liar."
"I don't care if it says I'm a devil-worshipping baby-eater. Stick to the issue."
"You are a devil-worshipper. I've heard about that church you go to."
"Well, at least you're admitting I attend church now."
The entire run of the conversation was her yelling at me, and I'm simply not up to taking it. I came so close to tears it's not even funny. But, if it goes to court, I bet that I wind up in chains, or more broke than I am, and without Ultraboy.
Because this state would rather see a mother who will let her kid be anally raped nightly have custody than a father who struggles to motivate the same kid with difficulty.
It was possible, had he continued to goof off, that he might've missed dinner. Once. I have to have some means of punishing him for these things, and I can't spank him. Yelling has no effect. And it would be once.
Then she brought up the banana bread thing again... the one where, all summer, all I fed my kids was banana bread. Even though a CPS agent came out and noted that, although our house was a wreck, we had plenty of food and evidence that it was getting eaten by kids (aside from the banana bread).
An interesting part of the conversation went like this:
"And you know that paper you're reading?"
"Was reading, but yeah."
"It says that every time there is a conflict, I win. And that you are a liar."
"I don't care if it says I'm a devil-worshipping baby-eater. Stick to the issue."
"You are a devil-worshipper. I've heard about that church you go to."
"Well, at least you're admitting I attend church now."
The entire run of the conversation was her yelling at me, and I'm simply not up to taking it. I came so close to tears it's not even funny. But, if it goes to court, I bet that I wind up in chains, or more broke than I am, and without Ultraboy.
Because this state would rather see a mother who will let her kid be anally raped nightly have custody than a father who struggles to motivate the same kid with difficulty.
02.10.2006
Today I feel Silly
It's the title of a book by Jamie Lee Curtis.
Today I feel quiet. It's the best time to write, because people feel like a threat. I could fear them all and lock myself away and not come out of my little space and cry quietly in the night.
I composed a poem about it, but you can't see it.
It's private.
Today I feel quiet. It's the best time to write, because people feel like a threat. I could fear them all and lock myself away and not come out of my little space and cry quietly in the night.
I composed a poem about it, but you can't see it.
It's private.
29.09.2006
Dang me...
This makes me angry.
For all the stupidity that runs around this planet it never fails to amaze that the words "reasonable doubt" are never fully understood. If you, yes YOU, know nothing else about the legal system it is this:
Convictions should almost never happen.
I'll qualify this a little: trial-by-jury criminal cases should almost never get convictions.
Why?
Because the defense doesn't have to prove jack, and the prosecution has to prove everything that was, as time rips the ability to portray an accurate picture.
Could they do it? Yeah. Motive and means were surely available.
Did they possibly do it? It is within the realm of possibility.
DID they do it? Couldn't say. Sounds like the investigation was done by a man named Cletus who couldn't spell "DNA," let alone successfully collect a sample. That and not finding a murder weapon or how the heck it was done should've closed the book on a 1st degree murder case. 2nd or 3rd would've been more plausible (but still shouldn't have gotten a conviction, based on the story).
Even the prosecution suggests that they were in coitus and interrupted, as a possible scenario for how the murder happened.
Oh, and I love John Stewart.
For all the stupidity that runs around this planet it never fails to amaze that the words "reasonable doubt" are never fully understood. If you, yes YOU, know nothing else about the legal system it is this:
Convictions should almost never happen.
I'll qualify this a little: trial-by-jury criminal cases should almost never get convictions.
Why?
Because the defense doesn't have to prove jack, and the prosecution has to prove everything that was, as time rips the ability to portray an accurate picture.
Could they do it? Yeah. Motive and means were surely available.
Did they possibly do it? It is within the realm of possibility.
DID they do it? Couldn't say. Sounds like the investigation was done by a man named Cletus who couldn't spell "DNA," let alone successfully collect a sample. That and not finding a murder weapon or how the heck it was done should've closed the book on a 1st degree murder case. 2nd or 3rd would've been more plausible (but still shouldn't have gotten a conviction, based on the story).
Even the prosecution suggests that they were in coitus and interrupted, as a possible scenario for how the murder happened.
Oh, and I love John Stewart.
27.09.2006
Thursday Thirteen
Because I'm all over the map on these "Thursday Thirteens"
How about I offer up 13 comfort foods?
1) Ham, black-eyed peas, and greens
2) fried okra
3) fried 'maters (like gramma does 'em).
4) muscadines
5) blackberries (w00t!) (that image is a desktop from Miller Soap (I don't know either), so feel free to use it).
6) Lasagna
7) Goulash (the rest of it looked good, so I posted the whole page).
8) Bar-b-q ribs (because if you spell it right, you probably can't cook it right).
9) Fried chicken
10) Warm bagel
11) Tea (Milo's is also famous for their french fries. For some reason.)
12) Cold Pizza (breakfast only).
13) Big ol' bag of pork rinds.
Much of this is the result of a southern upbringing, and the various german sausages didn't make the cut (har!) mostly owing to the fact that I haven't had a good one in ages, much like sauerkraut. America does those things poorly. I have managed to find some decent confections over the years, and I strongly recommend that you hussle over to Ethel M for some o' them.
A big shout out to smugmug for some fine pictures of food.
How about I offer up 13 comfort foods?
1) Ham, black-eyed peas, and greens
2) fried okra
3) fried 'maters (like gramma does 'em).
4) muscadines
5) blackberries (w00t!) (that image is a desktop from Miller Soap (I don't know either), so feel free to use it).
6) Lasagna
7) Goulash (the rest of it looked good, so I posted the whole page).
8) Bar-b-q ribs (because if you spell it right, you probably can't cook it right).
9) Fried chicken
10) Warm bagel
11) Tea (Milo's is also famous for their french fries. For some reason.)
12) Cold Pizza (breakfast only).
13) Big ol' bag of pork rinds.
Much of this is the result of a southern upbringing, and the various german sausages didn't make the cut (har!) mostly owing to the fact that I haven't had a good one in ages, much like sauerkraut. America does those things poorly. I have managed to find some decent confections over the years, and I strongly recommend that you hussle over to Ethel M for some o' them.
A big shout out to smugmug for some fine pictures of food.
I hit like a girl...
Today I took it upon myself to go over to the boxing part of the gym... oh, yeah. Maybe I should back up to the part where I'm working out every day of the week (different muscle groups though), and that I have been since Ultra Boy and Space Pirate (MegaBoy? I dunno), started back at school. A few breaks, but otherwise relentless.
A few days back a friend suggested that she'd like to start up as well, being all sorts of out of shape since having left the Army. And what she likes to do most is beat the crud out of things. Which had me worried for a moment, but then I remembered that whole section dedicated to boxing in the gym. I go over there for situps.
She's never been, so I play tour guide for a moment or two, but she's got her own wraps and gloves and she's ready to pummel. Seriously.
We get over there, and it's the first time that I've been for any real length of time... there are no men. Nor boys. None. I wasn't the first one of us to make that observation, either.
Sam (yes, that's her name), leans over and mutters, "where are the guys?"
"Hey! Speed bags!"
Anyway, we spent something like 45 minutes taking turns on those large bags that hang down and have roughly the density of a human. I think I spent something like 15 minutes to her 30.
Oh, yeah, and another interesting thing I learned today: carpal tunnel friggin' hurts. I was almost crying when I left the gym. Which, being male, means that I need to do that kind of thing more often.
We're stupid that way.
I was actually sweating and out of breath by the end of the workout, since I don't know what the words, "pace yourself," mean, in the same way that I don't really get, "the rules... follow the rules."
After seeing the kickboxing, butt-kicking, death-on-legs brand o' woman that I did today, I think I can take "you hit like a girl" as a compliment.
A few days back a friend suggested that she'd like to start up as well, being all sorts of out of shape since having left the Army. And what she likes to do most is beat the crud out of things. Which had me worried for a moment, but then I remembered that whole section dedicated to boxing in the gym. I go over there for situps.
She's never been, so I play tour guide for a moment or two, but she's got her own wraps and gloves and she's ready to pummel. Seriously.
We get over there, and it's the first time that I've been for any real length of time... there are no men. Nor boys. None. I wasn't the first one of us to make that observation, either.
Sam (yes, that's her name), leans over and mutters, "where are the guys?"
"Hey! Speed bags!"
Anyway, we spent something like 45 minutes taking turns on those large bags that hang down and have roughly the density of a human. I think I spent something like 15 minutes to her 30.
Oh, yeah, and another interesting thing I learned today: carpal tunnel friggin' hurts. I was almost crying when I left the gym. Which, being male, means that I need to do that kind of thing more often.
We're stupid that way.
I was actually sweating and out of breath by the end of the workout, since I don't know what the words, "pace yourself," mean, in the same way that I don't really get, "the rules... follow the rules."
After seeing the kickboxing, butt-kicking, death-on-legs brand o' woman that I did today, I think I can take "you hit like a girl" as a compliment.
22.09.2006
Food for thought
You might not have gotten over to YouTube for whatever reason. Perhaps you are under the impression that it's simply a bunch of geeks posting videos of themselves, or similar rubbish.
Well, there's some of that, but what you're missing out on is practically an archive of television. If it's not complained about, YouTube houses it.
You want a music video? I found The Cars, Abba, more rap and metal than I can shake a stick at, and whoever it was that did "Boom Town".
How about a public service announcement, from the likes of Rob Lowe and Barbara Bush? Not your cup of tea? Try some historical footage.
There are TV shows, movie trailers, and a bucket of other stuff. You could go to google video, but youtube is contributed to and maintained specifically for this kind of thing.
Well, there's some of that, but what you're missing out on is practically an archive of television. If it's not complained about, YouTube houses it.
You want a music video? I found The Cars, Abba, more rap and metal than I can shake a stick at, and whoever it was that did "Boom Town".
How about a public service announcement, from the likes of Rob Lowe and Barbara Bush? Not your cup of tea? Try some historical footage.
There are TV shows, movie trailers, and a bucket of other stuff. You could go to google video, but youtube is contributed to and maintained specifically for this kind of thing.
My lunch today...
I've gotten kinda annoyed with the whole "take back the night" campaign. Who has the night? When did it stop belonging to women? Which women had the night?
Okay, so now that I've associated that with prostitution, I'll show you what I did today:
Okay, so now that I've associated that with prostitution, I'll show you what I did today:
20.09.2006
The Energizer
Have you tried this? It's pretty addictive. Tell you what... I'll show you something I did, but it's going to push things well below the sidebar.
Because there weren't any Star Wars motivational posters out there.
Because there weren't any Star Wars motivational posters out there.
Contest d'Bone
initiate
holiday
snow
The noviate lit the last candle for the winter festival. The tree it was mounted upon would no doubt catch fire, but that was the idea. Ice demons would be run from the town by their community spirit, as represented by the fire.
"Master," he asked, "what if there are no ice demons? We can't see them, so how do we know?"
"Can you see your own heart?"
holiday
snow
The noviate lit the last candle for the winter festival. The tree it was mounted upon would no doubt catch fire, but that was the idea. Ice demons would be run from the town by their community spirit, as represented by the fire.
"Master," he asked, "what if there are no ice demons? We can't see them, so how do we know?"
"Can you see your own heart?"
19.09.2006
Sittin' by the dock of the bay...
Ultraboy has befriended yet another girl. This one really wants to be his study partner (as do they all), and was introduced him to her parents. Quite wily, really. Like her old man.
Honestly, I may have to subdue both of them and have the boy shipped off to someplace extremely cold. But then the global warming thing would be accelerated.
(sigh).
Honestly, I may have to subdue both of them and have the boy shipped off to someplace extremely cold. But then the global warming thing would be accelerated.
(sigh).
18.09.2006
15.09.2006
We'd effect tipping...
For my last foray into talking about my days as a driver for a well known pizza chain, I will now regale you with this:
In the heart of a large Southern city I was called upon to perform that duty I was signed up for... delivering the 'zas. I was still new, but others smiled at my next address and told me how lucky I was... this guy gives out tips of $20! Ah! Now I will score big money and perhaps be able to afford a new set of gaming dice, or... dare I dream?... a book.
To the Batmobile!
Off I went in delirious contemplation of a tip that could purchase a pizza in its own right! Such glory! $20 could buy 3 days groceries if I was reasonably frugal.
I arrived. The drive, as with a previous post, wasn't more than a few blocks, making this even more delightful. I adjusted my shirt and rang the doorbell.
Grumbling came from inside, and the stomping about reminded me of my father when I was doing something I really shouldn't. Which prepared me for...
The door opened and a fist came rocketing out. I have no idea what it was aiming for, but I reacted with cat-like reflexes, tossing the pizza unerringly to the side as the blow caught me in the shoulder and I spun and stumbled off of the sidewalk.
The door slammed. I still had the pizza, and I was decidedly not tipped. Well, perhaps in the way that a cow might get tipped, but not in any satisfactory way.
On the other hand, ringing the doorbell struck me as the height of foolishness.
So, I went to the nearest pay phone and called my boss, whose name was Tim.
Tim told me to try again. I lost a modicum of respect for the man at that moment, but I was not going to disobey, or suggest that he might kiss my pasty butt. Such thoughts were far from my mind.
I went back and rang the doorbell.
Grumbling could be heard inside. I considered the most prudent course of action was to hide.
To the side. In the bushes. While I heard stomping.
The door opened and the fist was projected, but I had a much more interesting perspective this time, and got to see a willowy fellow stumble over the lip of the door and look around in a confused manner.
"Damn kids," he muttered before I managed, nervously, "Did you order a pizza, sir?"
"Hunh? Damned if I know... hold on." Grumbling continued.
"You order a $%@! pizza?"
"What!?"
"God !>@3 it! Fine!"
He grumbled the rest of the way, making much more noise than his size would suggest. Definitely a "Cat-like tread" guy.
"Here!"
He crossed my palm with silver, and the pizza was his. I left, not entirely happy, but the tip had been in the area of $20 (I think it wound up being $18, since he gave me $40 and told me to keep the change, but maybe the cost of pizzas back then wasn't as high as I think).
I realize this isn't a "horror" story, and certainly not on the same level as the other one, but it's a very strong memory that I like to share with others.
In the heart of a large Southern city I was called upon to perform that duty I was signed up for... delivering the 'zas. I was still new, but others smiled at my next address and told me how lucky I was... this guy gives out tips of $20! Ah! Now I will score big money and perhaps be able to afford a new set of gaming dice, or... dare I dream?... a book.
To the Batmobile!
Off I went in delirious contemplation of a tip that could purchase a pizza in its own right! Such glory! $20 could buy 3 days groceries if I was reasonably frugal.
I arrived. The drive, as with a previous post, wasn't more than a few blocks, making this even more delightful. I adjusted my shirt and rang the doorbell.
Grumbling came from inside, and the stomping about reminded me of my father when I was doing something I really shouldn't. Which prepared me for...
The door opened and a fist came rocketing out. I have no idea what it was aiming for, but I reacted with cat-like reflexes, tossing the pizza unerringly to the side as the blow caught me in the shoulder and I spun and stumbled off of the sidewalk.
The door slammed. I still had the pizza, and I was decidedly not tipped. Well, perhaps in the way that a cow might get tipped, but not in any satisfactory way.
On the other hand, ringing the doorbell struck me as the height of foolishness.
So, I went to the nearest pay phone and called my boss, whose name was Tim.
Tim told me to try again. I lost a modicum of respect for the man at that moment, but I was not going to disobey, or suggest that he might kiss my pasty butt. Such thoughts were far from my mind.
I went back and rang the doorbell.
Grumbling could be heard inside. I considered the most prudent course of action was to hide.
To the side. In the bushes. While I heard stomping.
The door opened and the fist was projected, but I had a much more interesting perspective this time, and got to see a willowy fellow stumble over the lip of the door and look around in a confused manner.
"Damn kids," he muttered before I managed, nervously, "Did you order a pizza, sir?"
"Hunh? Damned if I know... hold on." Grumbling continued.
"You order a $%@! pizza?"
"What!?"
"God !>@3 it! Fine!"
He grumbled the rest of the way, making much more noise than his size would suggest. Definitely a "Cat-like tread" guy.
"Here!"
He crossed my palm with silver, and the pizza was his. I left, not entirely happy, but the tip had been in the area of $20 (I think it wound up being $18, since he gave me $40 and told me to keep the change, but maybe the cost of pizzas back then wasn't as high as I think).
I realize this isn't a "horror" story, and certainly not on the same level as the other one, but it's a very strong memory that I like to share with others.
Just because.
I love my wife.
She is beautiful. Her eyes are deep and soft. Her cheeks have a natural blush to them, and what might have been freckles.
She has style and taste. Yet she puts up with the way I dress. That's also [i]tolerance[/i] as well.
She's smart. Her memory has started to slide, but she still thinks circles around anybody else I know. Actually, she doesn't bother with the circles. Waste of time.
She's feminine. She doesn't believe it, but she's soft and maternal.
Her laughter makes my soul lighter.
She's warm and wonderful.
I Love My Wife.
She is beautiful. Her eyes are deep and soft. Her cheeks have a natural blush to them, and what might have been freckles.
She has style and taste. Yet she puts up with the way I dress. That's also [i]tolerance[/i] as well.
She's smart. Her memory has started to slide, but she still thinks circles around anybody else I know. Actually, she doesn't bother with the circles. Waste of time.
She's feminine. She doesn't believe it, but she's soft and maternal.
Her laughter makes my soul lighter.
She's warm and wonderful.
I Love My Wife.
11.09.2006
Woof?
I've been thinking a bit about nature, and the nature of man.
It has been posited that man seeks as many mates as possible, in order to insure spread of DNA and offer the best possibilities for a future for the human race. This runs counter to the desire women have for a steady mate in order to avoid being raped every coupla days/minutes. Thus, conflict between the genders.
This sort of makes sense, but there are other creatures in nature that mate for life. Why do they do this? It makes no sense if the "job" of the male is to hump everything that moves. Are they abhorrations? Sexual deviants?
Today I shall explore 2 examples: Wolf and Dog. Point and counter-point(er).
Wolves and dogs are very close in genetic makeup. Save for mankind breeding for certain qualities, they'd be roughly the same animals (jackal and other "canis" blood can be found in various breeds, so it's not a pure thing, but huskies and german shephards are decidedly wolfish). There's only one real difference: maturity.
Dogs are about as mature as a four-month old Wolf*. So, the question is, are you a dog or a wolf? A boy... or a Man?
*info acquired by asking a local wolf care center representative. No lie. Her name was Samantha.
It has been posited that man seeks as many mates as possible, in order to insure spread of DNA and offer the best possibilities for a future for the human race. This runs counter to the desire women have for a steady mate in order to avoid being raped every coupla days/minutes. Thus, conflict between the genders.
This sort of makes sense, but there are other creatures in nature that mate for life. Why do they do this? It makes no sense if the "job" of the male is to hump everything that moves. Are they abhorrations? Sexual deviants?
Today I shall explore 2 examples: Wolf and Dog. Point and counter-point(er).
Wolves and dogs are very close in genetic makeup. Save for mankind breeding for certain qualities, they'd be roughly the same animals (jackal and other "canis" blood can be found in various breeds, so it's not a pure thing, but huskies and german shephards are decidedly wolfish). There's only one real difference: maturity.
Dogs are about as mature as a four-month old Wolf*. So, the question is, are you a dog or a wolf? A boy... or a Man?
*info acquired by asking a local wolf care center representative. No lie. Her name was Samantha.
09.09.2006
I like Chinese
Or, more accurately, Japanese. Stuff.
This probably swings me further over into the geek category, but if I was worried about that I'd probably have buffed up alot more and maybe socialized some.
Instead I'll stay up all night looking at old "Ninja High School" comics.
So, here I am, discovering that I can recognize Faye Valentine without a headshot (and all of this because my D&D cartoons wouldn't load... I mean, really), and thinking that, back in the day, I was all about "Dominion: Tank Police", "Urusei Yatsura," (translated: "Those Annoying Aliens"), and "Akira." And that I really don't know much about the current scene.
Well, accept "Trigun", "Orange Road", Miyazaki's work, and basically anything that borders on mainstream. It's depressing.
I'll admit that stuff from Japan has flaws, such as tending toward sexism or not looking as polished as American productions. I find the latter rather charming, but it's not everyone's cup o' tea.
I'll stick with the idea of Anime being an artform because I allow that Disney could produce art, and I don't distinguish between different types of animation when it comes to potential.
I'm going to get more homework done.
>sigh<.
This probably swings me further over into the geek category, but if I was worried about that I'd probably have buffed up alot more and maybe socialized some.
Instead I'll stay up all night looking at old "Ninja High School" comics.
So, here I am, discovering that I can recognize Faye Valentine without a headshot (and all of this because my D&D cartoons wouldn't load... I mean, really), and thinking that, back in the day, I was all about "Dominion: Tank Police", "Urusei Yatsura," (translated: "Those Annoying Aliens"), and "Akira." And that I really don't know much about the current scene.
Well, accept "Trigun", "Orange Road", Miyazaki's work, and basically anything that borders on mainstream. It's depressing.
I'll admit that stuff from Japan has flaws, such as tending toward sexism or not looking as polished as American productions. I find the latter rather charming, but it's not everyone's cup o' tea.
I'll stick with the idea of Anime being an artform because I allow that Disney could produce art, and I don't distinguish between different types of animation when it comes to potential.
I'm going to get more homework done.
>sigh<.
06.09.2006
04.09.2006
Typical Friday at "Pizza Glut"
I've mentioned that there are some horror stories related to my driving delivery for some manner of Pizza Nuts. I'll try to keep them straight as separate posts.
Most people don't realize that delivery is a different planet from interacting with folks on a normal basis. For instance, when you get a call on a professional basis you might take it for granted that things on the other end are as stated, and if they aren't you probably won't be scarred for life by the enfolding events.
You probably don't give much thought to the average pizza jockey, who is young and male. But some people do think about it... and call.
Yessir, there've been times when ye olde Chuck-meister was staring down the unfriendly prospect of being paid in the only way that a red-neck woman in a thong and little else is willing to be paid. Well, okay, the prospect was extremely friendly... but not at all attractive.
It was a Friday, and the busy part of the night was winding down at "Pizza Shack", to the point where you become aware of the torrid heat in that little room they cook everything in, and you'd give an eye to get a delivery. People would fight over the next ticket. I came out on top this time.
A woman known to be a good tipper needed a personal pizza delivered. Usually we wouldn't, but she'd ordered a salad and Coke (spell check!), which made the cost enough to warrant it. Out I drove.
She lived maybe 5 blocks away, but had decided to stay in instead of get it herself. Not unusual. My car could've used some repairs, and clouds were rolling in with a low rumbling making everything sound worse than it was. I parked in her rather small yard and made the walk to her door. It was somewhere near 11 P.M.
I rang the doorbell and instantly the door opened. "Hi! Are you here with the pizza?"
I had to stop, because the woman was in an extreme state of dis-dress. There are two types of thoughts that might engage the proto-simian brain when faced with such a predicament... some will tell you that there are only 2 "F"s of such behavior: "fight" or "flee". I'll tell you that there is a third "F", which was a possibility had the women:
a) shaved. Something.
b) lost weight. I'm not usually one to discriminate on this point, but I do have limits. Grotesqueries are those. The woman could've hidden clowns on her person and had them erupt from her at the end of the show and it wouldn't surprise me.
c) shown some small modicum of taste and discrimination. Perhaps had asked for a different delivery person, made note of cute ones, asked me what I was doing later, ANYTHING BUT SHOW UP AT THE DOOR AND PULL THE "I DON'T HAVE ANY MONEY" LINE!!"
I'm going to say something about that last: you can't possibly think this is an attractive line to anyone, can you? It's a bit like holding a sign that says: "Will have sex for pizza."
Except less original.
Understand that I was pretty young and on the verge of marrying the first cheap floozie I could locate (on a street corner, no less!), but this was insulting to me and should have been humiliating to her.
Most people don't realize that delivery is a different planet from interacting with folks on a normal basis. For instance, when you get a call on a professional basis you might take it for granted that things on the other end are as stated, and if they aren't you probably won't be scarred for life by the enfolding events.
You probably don't give much thought to the average pizza jockey, who is young and male. But some people do think about it... and call.
Yessir, there've been times when ye olde Chuck-meister was staring down the unfriendly prospect of being paid in the only way that a red-neck woman in a thong and little else is willing to be paid. Well, okay, the prospect was extremely friendly... but not at all attractive.
It was a Friday, and the busy part of the night was winding down at "Pizza Shack", to the point where you become aware of the torrid heat in that little room they cook everything in, and you'd give an eye to get a delivery. People would fight over the next ticket. I came out on top this time.
A woman known to be a good tipper needed a personal pizza delivered. Usually we wouldn't, but she'd ordered a salad and Coke (spell check!), which made the cost enough to warrant it. Out I drove.
She lived maybe 5 blocks away, but had decided to stay in instead of get it herself. Not unusual. My car could've used some repairs, and clouds were rolling in with a low rumbling making everything sound worse than it was. I parked in her rather small yard and made the walk to her door. It was somewhere near 11 P.M.
I rang the doorbell and instantly the door opened. "Hi! Are you here with the pizza?"
I had to stop, because the woman was in an extreme state of dis-dress. There are two types of thoughts that might engage the proto-simian brain when faced with such a predicament... some will tell you that there are only 2 "F"s of such behavior: "fight" or "flee". I'll tell you that there is a third "F", which was a possibility had the women:
a) shaved. Something.
b) lost weight. I'm not usually one to discriminate on this point, but I do have limits. Grotesqueries are those. The woman could've hidden clowns on her person and had them erupt from her at the end of the show and it wouldn't surprise me.
c) shown some small modicum of taste and discrimination. Perhaps had asked for a different delivery person, made note of cute ones, asked me what I was doing later, ANYTHING BUT SHOW UP AT THE DOOR AND PULL THE "I DON'T HAVE ANY MONEY" LINE!!"
I'm going to say something about that last: you can't possibly think this is an attractive line to anyone, can you? It's a bit like holding a sign that says: "Will have sex for pizza."
Except less original.
Understand that I was pretty young and on the verge of marrying the first cheap floozie I could locate (on a street corner, no less!), but this was insulting to me and should have been humiliating to her.
Mecca
Went over to that consumer paradise, Wal-Mart, this evening to buy a pair of shoes. Well, two pairs. I bought three, but I digress.
I entered the section of El Supra Wal-Mart Grande labeled "Shoes" and began to peruse the isles, looking for a new pair for my oldest. Two pairs. Hokay.
Turns out that the means of organizing shoes that they'd had before, known henceforth as "convenient," was not exactly what the top thinkers over in Arkansas considered best for their chain.
Now, should you enter that section, you will be forced to look for a sales associate ("demon"), locate the appropriate isle ("circle"), use the secret decryption guide ("Dante's"), and then cry and grab the nearest shoe regardless of quality and price before leaving the store in a state that could not be described by the most detailed of H.P. Lovecraft ("cyclopean").
Thank you for shopping.
I entered the section of El Supra Wal-Mart Grande labeled "Shoes" and began to peruse the isles, looking for a new pair for my oldest. Two pairs. Hokay.
Turns out that the means of organizing shoes that they'd had before, known henceforth as "convenient," was not exactly what the top thinkers over in Arkansas considered best for their chain.
Now, should you enter that section, you will be forced to look for a sales associate ("demon"), locate the appropriate isle ("circle"), use the secret decryption guide ("Dante's"), and then cry and grab the nearest shoe regardless of quality and price before leaving the store in a state that could not be described by the most detailed of H.P. Lovecraft ("cyclopean").
Thank you for shopping.
Eat Me
A rather intriguing film, "Grilling Bobby Hicks," is in production at the moment, and someone (you neaux who) asked me to take a look at the trailer. First impression? Slapsticky dark comedy. Here's what I wrote back to him:
Projected rating is PG, and I wouldn't expect anything much in the way of sex or, judging by the trailer, swearing. Violence might not be out of the question, but it looks like they avoided special effects in favor of writing on this one.
The Good:
The trailer is slightly amateurish. I'm not sure if that's on purpose or due to budget constraints, but it adds charm to it. Especially the sped up "get-in-the-trailer" scene toward the end.
The writing seems to be pretty good. I'm not referring to the movie, but the dialogue of the trailer, which might not have been written by the same people as the script. It's pretty solid.
It got my interest in the film. I genuinely want to find out what happened. That's pretty much the best praise that an ad is going to get from me.
The Bad:
Funny, but the amateurish feel also detracts from some moments. While it does lend an "authentic" feel to some scenes (as it does with some horror movies), the slightly shaky feel also takes away from some moments. For cinematography I particularly liked: the opening and the guy with the rag wiping off the counter. Looked really good. The stuff in the car is less appealing.
The Ugly:
The sense I got is that, though a lot of fun, this movie is going to be chock-full of cliches. Cheesiness has an audience, and I'm in it, but it's not going to necessarily win over many critics (except Ebert. I think you've got a real chance with him). My point here is that it doesn't come across as a "think" piece. I'd also like to comment on the rapid-fire sequence at the end: over-done. It adds nothing to my interest in the film and I've seen it in other trailers.
Also, they might want to mention what award the script won, or who gave the award. Cannes would add much to the weight. Granted, if it's "Didi's Script-O-Rama: Best Burger Filler," maybe they shouldn't bring it up, but it's driving me nuts. I poked around a bit and still couldn't find it.
One final: The director also wrote. I'm pretty certain he's not acting the lead, but if he acts in it at all he raises an eyebrow.
Total:
Obviously the trailer got me interested in the film. I won't be able to watch it owing to budgetary constraints, but I hope it has more than a local distribution. Give them all the best of luck from me.
Projected rating is PG, and I wouldn't expect anything much in the way of sex or, judging by the trailer, swearing. Violence might not be out of the question, but it looks like they avoided special effects in favor of writing on this one.
03.09.2006
02.09.2006
Spanning time...
Legos have always held a fascination to me, and most of my friends. The flaw in the system is that getting anywhere near the bricks needed to make anything cool is somewhere near the national deficit.
Robot* building with Legos hasn't changed price, excepting that now you feel like you might evoke "Klaatu barada nikto!" at any moment.
Which might cost you cool points.
*Does not include a death ray.
Robot* building with Legos hasn't changed price, excepting that now you feel like you might evoke "Klaatu barada nikto!" at any moment.
Which might cost you cool points.
*Does not include a death ray.
Schmarchimedes...
Here I am, trying to find volume and density of a 122.5 kg (mass) man.
Converted to newtons (a measure of force), his weight is 1200.5 newtons (f=m*a).
Then he is submerged, over his head, and weighed. The water is 30 degrees, Celsius, with a specific gravity of 0.996. His weight in newtons when submerged is 44.
Density = Mass/Volume
Specific Gravity = density/(reference density)
The mans mass is static. No one is removing his arms in order to make him fit into the container of water. My chief concern is that I'm somehow messing up his weight in newtons (1200.5), since this is my own calculation.
Writing this has helped me straighten out my thoughts, but it hasn't led me closer to a resolution. Dang it.
Converted to newtons (a measure of force), his weight is 1200.5 newtons (f=m*a).
Then he is submerged, over his head, and weighed. The water is 30 degrees, Celsius, with a specific gravity of 0.996. His weight in newtons when submerged is 44.
Density = Mass/Volume
Specific Gravity = density/(reference density)
The mans mass is static. No one is removing his arms in order to make him fit into the container of water. My chief concern is that I'm somehow messing up his weight in newtons (1200.5), since this is my own calculation.
Writing this has helped me straighten out my thoughts, but it hasn't led me closer to a resolution. Dang it.
Despite all my rage...
Tonight I work security. I'd expected to be prowling the premises every so often in search of ne'er-do-wells and miscreants to prod with a manly truncheon.
Such is not my lot. While I have spent the last hour and a half trying to verify a principle of Archimedes, it is distracting to be locked in a closet with a phone in case something should happen. Troublemakers would then fear the wrath of my Nokia, I tell you.
There are others here, providing a community service to those unfortunates chained to the bottle at this hour and in need of safe return to that place they might call home, but they are not my intellectual equals.
There is no one here to help me, save a semi-functional Dell that serves as a link to the world outside of my prison. Meanwhile, I try to discover what roll density plays in specific gravity, and how that might help me unravel the workings of Archimedes.
Such is not my lot. While I have spent the last hour and a half trying to verify a principle of Archimedes, it is distracting to be locked in a closet with a phone in case something should happen. Troublemakers would then fear the wrath of my Nokia, I tell you.
There are others here, providing a community service to those unfortunates chained to the bottle at this hour and in need of safe return to that place they might call home, but they are not my intellectual equals.
There is no one here to help me, save a semi-functional Dell that serves as a link to the world outside of my prison. Meanwhile, I try to discover what roll density plays in specific gravity, and how that might help me unravel the workings of Archimedes.
30.08.2006
Linguistic Anomaly
Across the board in my Discrete Mathematics class is a bunch of symbols not known by folks outside my field of interest, but among them are some fairly mundane letters, such as epsilon and delta.
My teacher's frustration grows as she tries to explain a simple exercise in deductive reasoning. Yet another question is asked.
"C'mon people," she yells as she turns to the class, "it's not Greek!"
And the only noise
was one solitary giggle.
Well, yeah, it exploded after that.
My teacher's frustration grows as she tries to explain a simple exercise in deductive reasoning. Yet another question is asked.
"C'mon people," she yells as she turns to the class, "it's not Greek!"
And the only noise
was one solitary giggle.
Well, yeah, it exploded after that.
28.08.2006
Pink is the love you discover
Once upon a time, in a state that's about half the country away, I worked for a pizza deliver place that, for this post, will be known as "Pizza Glut". I certainly wouldn't want to give away it's true identity, being such a noble bastion of quality fast food.
I had transferred to the position of "pizza master"*, and was responsible for making the dough every morning for the upcoming days worth of pizza. It was a glorious job in that, unlike many other jobs, I was left alone. No matter how much the boss may have desired to keep an eye on my production, he'd rather not wake up at 4 a.m. to do so.
I did get to greet the afternoon crowd as I was going off shift, and on one occassion someone showed up a little earlier than expected and wandered back into the domain that was completely mine.
You have to understand that this is a delicate procedure. The dough must be made, weighed, tossed (really, they hand toss it), and pressed into a pre-greased pan and refrigerated until needed (preferrably within 24 hours).
Anyone doing this job knows that, in order to weigh the dough, a chunk must first be cut free using the knife you are given for the job. It's a pretty hefty (read "butcher") knife with a good edge on it.
And, when someone comes back while you're in mid-swing, if you are naturally friendly, you may wind up saying something along the lines of:
"Hiiiiooooowwch!"
This might, I'm not sure here since I'm sure nothing like this ever happened to my left thumb right across the nail, but there might well have been words that my mom wouldn't care to hear from a child of hers. I think she'd understand, but it would still be upsetting.
I wound up filling out the workmen's comp paperwork without bleeding all over creation, but I left behind a big ball of dough with blood all over it. Seriously, if you've never cut a finger all the way through, just know that on top of the pain it bleeds a bit.
They sent me to something called a "Doc in the Box" and some incompetent wrapped my thumb in gauze and told me everything would be fine. That's another little item you might want to make careful note of: Gauze + Skin = Future Pain. If there is nothing separating the injured skin from the gauze, you are going to have to pull the gauze out of the skin and have it re-heal. So, if you should ever be injured by a ninja and have to remove his -to from your butt, and the doctor decides to just patch you up with some gauze, demand some sort of ointment along with.
Aaaaaanyway, I went back to work after Dr. McQuack sent me off, in order to file some more paperwork and explain how long I'd be sans thumb (about a week, thanks to Trapper Jerk), when I looked over to see a pizza being made for the morning and (deep breath):
THEY HAD USED THE DOUGH!
To make certain you understand my horror, let me explain that it was the dough I had bled all over. It was pink throughout. To confirm this, I quietly checked the trash bin where said dough should have gone, and it wasn't there. It could have been discarded some other way, but I'd been working there for almost a year at the time, and I'd never seen anyone go out of their way to trash something.
Like most people who've worked fast food, I have a horror story, and this is it. Otherwise things went pretty well. No one spit on food or let other bodily fluids get mixed into the mayonnaise. No one did anything really crude in the freezer (which, at that time of life, I found a pity). And any other rumour you've heard pretty much didn't happen.
Oh. I do have two other horror stories, but they happened while I was a delivery driver. Since this happens in reverse chronological order, you'll see them above this point... someday.
*Or something to that effect
I had transferred to the position of "pizza master"*, and was responsible for making the dough every morning for the upcoming days worth of pizza. It was a glorious job in that, unlike many other jobs, I was left alone. No matter how much the boss may have desired to keep an eye on my production, he'd rather not wake up at 4 a.m. to do so.
I did get to greet the afternoon crowd as I was going off shift, and on one occassion someone showed up a little earlier than expected and wandered back into the domain that was completely mine.
You have to understand that this is a delicate procedure. The dough must be made, weighed, tossed (really, they hand toss it), and pressed into a pre-greased pan and refrigerated until needed (preferrably within 24 hours).
Anyone doing this job knows that, in order to weigh the dough, a chunk must first be cut free using the knife you are given for the job. It's a pretty hefty (read "butcher") knife with a good edge on it.
And, when someone comes back while you're in mid-swing, if you are naturally friendly, you may wind up saying something along the lines of:
"Hiiiiooooowwch!"
This might, I'm not sure here since I'm sure nothing like this ever happened to my left thumb right across the nail, but there might well have been words that my mom wouldn't care to hear from a child of hers. I think she'd understand, but it would still be upsetting.
I wound up filling out the workmen's comp paperwork without bleeding all over creation, but I left behind a big ball of dough with blood all over it. Seriously, if you've never cut a finger all the way through, just know that on top of the pain it bleeds a bit.
They sent me to something called a "Doc in the Box" and some incompetent wrapped my thumb in gauze and told me everything would be fine. That's another little item you might want to make careful note of: Gauze + Skin = Future Pain. If there is nothing separating the injured skin from the gauze, you are going to have to pull the gauze out of the skin and have it re-heal. So, if you should ever be injured by a ninja and have to remove his -to from your butt, and the doctor decides to just patch you up with some gauze, demand some sort of ointment along with.
Aaaaaanyway, I went back to work after Dr. McQuack sent me off, in order to file some more paperwork and explain how long I'd be sans thumb (about a week, thanks to Trapper Jerk), when I looked over to see a pizza being made for the morning and (deep breath):
THEY HAD USED THE DOUGH!
To make certain you understand my horror, let me explain that it was the dough I had bled all over. It was pink throughout. To confirm this, I quietly checked the trash bin where said dough should have gone, and it wasn't there. It could have been discarded some other way, but I'd been working there for almost a year at the time, and I'd never seen anyone go out of their way to trash something.
Like most people who've worked fast food, I have a horror story, and this is it. Otherwise things went pretty well. No one spit on food or let other bodily fluids get mixed into the mayonnaise. No one did anything really crude in the freezer (which, at that time of life, I found a pity). And any other rumour you've heard pretty much didn't happen.
Oh. I do have two other horror stories, but they happened while I was a delivery driver. Since this happens in reverse chronological order, you'll see them above this point... someday.
*Or something to that effect
Ponch and John
Having a deep fryer gives one a certain sense of community responsibility. In order to honor such a deep trust, I must seek out new ways to plunge foodstuffs (or my hand) into oil of up to 375 degrees Fahrenheit. To this end I have taken up trying to make potato chips.
I believe the best temperature is 340 for about 11 minutes, but the mandolin cutter we picked up at Target slices a bit to thick, so I get something similar to a circular french fry. Before you ask, I will not be trying to cut several potatoes wafer-thin using a knife. That way is just pain.
I believe the best temperature is 340 for about 11 minutes, but the mandolin cutter we picked up at Target slices a bit to thick, so I get something similar to a circular french fry. Before you ask, I will not be trying to cut several potatoes wafer-thin using a knife. That way is just pain.
25.08.2006
You're scared of the claw
I've been bitter angry today, while shaking a totally useless fist at the world.
I don't know why I'm this angry. I started happy, went to class, ran some errands, and returned home totally frustrated and malevalent.
No. Not malevalent. Cold. Not so cold, but definitely not warm, and the kids didn't seem to pick up on this, so bed time was somewhat... well, it wasn't loving.
Not that they didn't have some of that coming, since they tend to use the bathroom as a revolving excuse for not going to bed. Tonight Megaboy actually said, "I have to go potty every 5 seconds!" Which he doesn't. After letting him go to the bathroom I've stuffed him in his bedroom and let him cry about it. The youngest got away with just sitting on the potty for multiple reasons, not the least of which was that he wasn't kicking MB in the head that way.
So, a little sympathy.
I found another quote, of course:
Stop breaking the law!
I don't know why I'm this angry. I started happy, went to class, ran some errands, and returned home totally frustrated and malevalent.
No. Not malevalent. Cold. Not so cold, but definitely not warm, and the kids didn't seem to pick up on this, so bed time was somewhat... well, it wasn't loving.
Not that they didn't have some of that coming, since they tend to use the bathroom as a revolving excuse for not going to bed. Tonight Megaboy actually said, "I have to go potty every 5 seconds!" Which he doesn't. After letting him go to the bathroom I've stuffed him in his bedroom and let him cry about it. The youngest got away with just sitting on the potty for multiple reasons, not the least of which was that he wasn't kicking MB in the head that way.
So, a little sympathy.
I found another quote, of course:
Stop breaking the law!
24.08.2006
Thursday Thirteen, and then some.
My wife, once quoted "The Princess Bride" in her blog.
I present to you thirteen of my favorite quotes, but not all of them have sources that are linkable:
13) "Am I qualified?"
12) "Manos." (use air-quotes for this one)
11) "You have an interociter?" (response): "Sure, doesn't everybody?"
10) "Believe you me,(name), I calculated the odds that this would work versus my doing something incredibly stupid and... I went ahead and did it anyway."
9) "...the piercing scream of a freshman."
8) "Bite me, Frodo!"
7) "THE REINDEER - OH THE REINDEER. - keep floating like holiday floats and in turn exploding in a hail of blood and entrails. Prancer - BOOM. Dancer - BOOM."
6) "The inexplicable shot of Gertrude Stein."
5) "Because you're bad at math?"
4) "He learned too late that man was a feeling creature."
3) "You don't see many trees like this anymore. Well, down it goes!"
2) "And this guy. He's a woozle. His name is 'Peanut'."
1) "You! Swat the magic elves."
I'd also like to quote the entire "Rocketship XM" MST3K, but there just isn't room. I'll add some bonus quotes about here:
3) "We've secretly replaced their escape pod with Folger's crystals."
2) "Wait 'til I get going! Where was I...?"
1) "They're not just for erotica..."
I present to you thirteen of my favorite quotes, but not all of them have sources that are linkable:
13) "Am I qualified?"
12) "Manos." (use air-quotes for this one)
11) "You have an interociter?" (response): "Sure, doesn't everybody?"
10) "Believe you me,(name), I calculated the odds that this would work versus my doing something incredibly stupid and... I went ahead and did it anyway."
9) "...the piercing scream of a freshman."
8) "Bite me, Frodo!"
7) "THE REINDEER - OH THE REINDEER. - keep floating like holiday floats and in turn exploding in a hail of blood and entrails. Prancer - BOOM. Dancer - BOOM."
6) "The inexplicable shot of Gertrude Stein."
5) "Because you're bad at math?"
4) "He learned too late that man was a feeling creature."
3) "You don't see many trees like this anymore. Well, down it goes!"
2) "And this guy. He's a woozle. His name is 'Peanut'."
1) "You! Swat the magic elves."
I'd also like to quote the entire "Rocketship XM" MST3K, but there just isn't room. I'll add some bonus quotes about here:
3) "We've secretly replaced their escape pod with Folger's crystals."
2) "Wait 'til I get going! Where was I...?"
1) "They're not just for erotica..."
Off to a great start!
Currently I have an 'A' in all of my classes.
Including, I kid you not, "biological engineering."
I love the program I'm in. Everything just sounds cool. Mechatronics. Biological Engineering.
Oh, and I got the spiffy school ID that lets me get into all the places on campus that are off limits to civilians. I'm an engineer/CS guy, which pretty much covers all of the electronic locks. Also, I can print on almost any printer on campus.
1000 pages per printer.
I used to think I'd never be able to print all the books I have on CD, but no more.
Including, I kid you not, "biological engineering."
I love the program I'm in. Everything just sounds cool. Mechatronics. Biological Engineering.
Oh, and I got the spiffy school ID that lets me get into all the places on campus that are off limits to civilians. I'm an engineer/CS guy, which pretty much covers all of the electronic locks. Also, I can print on almost any printer on campus.
1000 pages per printer.
I used to think I'd never be able to print all the books I have on CD, but no more.
21.08.2006
I didn't post this...
And I'm certain that this isn't funny. At all.
Excepting when you spew soda all over your keyboard.
UPDATE! It was suggested that I offer up something other than the homepage, as a better representation of the comic. Therefor, I offer up this in hopes of not only making a monkey go blind, but also as a good example of what childhood at my school seemed like.
Although we didn't have nuns.
Excepting when you spew soda all over your keyboard.
UPDATE! It was suggested that I offer up something other than the homepage, as a better representation of the comic. Therefor, I offer up this in hopes of not only making a monkey go blind, but also as a good example of what childhood at my school seemed like.
Although we didn't have nuns.
20.08.2006
Song challenge
Earlier this month Dorothy mentioned a challenge by another blogger to come up with a song that changed your life, or even your personality.
I offer up something that might seem counterintuitive, as always:
Radiohead's "Creep":
When you were here before,
Couldn't look you in the eyes
You're just like an angel,
your skin makes me cry
You float like a feather
In a beautiful world
I wish I was special
You're so very' special
But I'm a creep,
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doin' here?
I don't belong here
I don't care if it hurts,
I wanna have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul
I want you to notice
when I'm not around
You're so very'special
I wish I was special
But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doin' here?
I don't belong here, ohhhh, ohhhh
She's running out the door ...
She's running out
she's run, run, run, run...
run...
Whatever makes you happy
Whatever you want
You're so very special
I wish I was special
But I'm a creep,
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doin' here?
I don't belong here
I don't belong here...
At a time in my life when I knew I was an outsider, when no one seemed to like me or understand me, this song told me that I was not alone. My perspective wasn't that it was sung to one person, but to everyone else. It still seems that way, and it still reaches into my soul.
I offer up something that might seem counterintuitive, as always:
Radiohead's "Creep":
When you were here before,
Couldn't look you in the eyes
You're just like an angel,
your skin makes me cry
You float like a feather
In a beautiful world
I wish I was special
You're so very' special
But I'm a creep,
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doin' here?
I don't belong here
I don't care if it hurts,
I wanna have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul
I want you to notice
when I'm not around
You're so very'special
I wish I was special
But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doin' here?
I don't belong here, ohhhh, ohhhh
She's running out the door ...
She's running out
she's run, run, run, run...
run...
Whatever makes you happy
Whatever you want
You're so very special
I wish I was special
But I'm a creep,
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doin' here?
I don't belong here
I don't belong here...
At a time in my life when I knew I was an outsider, when no one seemed to like me or understand me, this song told me that I was not alone. My perspective wasn't that it was sung to one person, but to everyone else. It still seems that way, and it still reaches into my soul.
19.08.2006
Alright now.
My classes don't permit me to pick up my kids from school.
Well, they do, but it'll be really tight.
And on Tuesdays and Thursdays I'd have to take them with me to class.
Health class.
I'm pretty sure the oldest could take it, but I don't want the youngest exposed to a college level health class, if you get me.
I need the money a full time course load gets me (through the VA). All of these classes are required for my declared... stuff. I tried to add a minor of English, but it proved useless, since no classes are offered that would change anything for this semester.
I can't afford day care.
And my wife keeps crying about this.
If I have to, I'll find someone I trust on campus to watch over them (and, yes, I have some ideas), but I'd rather field some suggestions first. Some of you have gone through something similar, right?
Well, they do, but it'll be really tight.
And on Tuesdays and Thursdays I'd have to take them with me to class.
Health class.
I'm pretty sure the oldest could take it, but I don't want the youngest exposed to a college level health class, if you get me.
I need the money a full time course load gets me (through the VA). All of these classes are required for my declared... stuff. I tried to add a minor of English, but it proved useless, since no classes are offered that would change anything for this semester.
I can't afford day care.
And my wife keeps crying about this.
If I have to, I'll find someone I trust on campus to watch over them (and, yes, I have some ideas), but I'd rather field some suggestions first. Some of you have gone through something similar, right?
I like watermelon
Not long ago I was involved in providing entertainment for a gathering. The leftovers, what couldn't be returned to the store (the funds to purchase goods were not mine), were left to myself and the other coordinator.
I wound up with .5 watermelons and .5 Kool-Aid containers.
I have Chemical Engineering on Monday.
It's the craziest thing that I'm involved in so much on campus, that my classes have me run from one side to the other and communicating with every department (excepting textiles and music... I do have a class in animal anatomy that takes me out to the farming folk). Journalism, English, Math, Comp Sci, Engineering, Chemistry, Biology, Business... it makes me happy and worried. How is one mortal supposed to know all this stuff? Not on the light end of things, like study only the 100 and 200 level stuff, but the 400 level disconnects?
And yet, here I am. I've set myself on perhaps the most insane path I could imagine.
And I'm going to sit here and eat watermelon, and ignore it.
Blackberries are doing well this year.
Yep.
I wound up with .5 watermelons and .5 Kool-Aid containers.
I have Chemical Engineering on Monday.
It's the craziest thing that I'm involved in so much on campus, that my classes have me run from one side to the other and communicating with every department (excepting textiles and music... I do have a class in animal anatomy that takes me out to the farming folk). Journalism, English, Math, Comp Sci, Engineering, Chemistry, Biology, Business... it makes me happy and worried. How is one mortal supposed to know all this stuff? Not on the light end of things, like study only the 100 and 200 level stuff, but the 400 level disconnects?
And yet, here I am. I've set myself on perhaps the most insane path I could imagine.
And I'm going to sit here and eat watermelon, and ignore it.
Blackberries are doing well this year.
Yep.
16.08.2006
Happy birthday
Someone had a birthday today, and it was, in some ways, most wonderful. With intermittent pain.
Got her a nice book on a subject she's been wanting to get her Master's in. It turned out to be just the right one.
Ultraboy was on his best behaviour, and helped in the cooking and cleaning that was done. His value on this day cannot be overstated. He was dazzling.
The two youngest showed a remarkable amount of enthusiasm.
I made homemade pizza, with the help of UB, along with a cake and frosting. Our neighbors gave us a vacuum and some more vegetables. We gave them zucchini bread.
The vacuum is a loan, really, but without interest. Save that I will bake more bread for them in the future.
I go off to a job I got in 5.5 hours. I should sleep about now.
Got her a nice book on a subject she's been wanting to get her Master's in. It turned out to be just the right one.
Ultraboy was on his best behaviour, and helped in the cooking and cleaning that was done. His value on this day cannot be overstated. He was dazzling.
The two youngest showed a remarkable amount of enthusiasm.
I made homemade pizza, with the help of UB, along with a cake and frosting. Our neighbors gave us a vacuum and some more vegetables. We gave them zucchini bread.
The vacuum is a loan, really, but without interest. Save that I will bake more bread for them in the future.
I go off to a job I got in 5.5 hours. I should sleep about now.
15.08.2006
Oh, yes...
Some people claim that I'm crazy.
I'll introduce you to one of the few quotes I like from Meg Ryan, as delivered in "Joe vs. The Volcano*:"L
"My father says that almost the whole world is asleep. Everybody you know. Everybody you see. Everybody you talk to. He says that only a few people are awake and they live in a state of constant total amazement."
I stand by this. Every moment I've got is a moment to treasure.
The moment I go to sleep, the moment I stop trying to stay awake, is a sad day in my personal history. A sad, gray day.
*"Joe vs. The Volcano" is about the greatest movie ever. Really. It looks almost like a stage production, especially some of the shots where Tom Hanks is floating in the ocean... the repetitious symbols are awesome. Inside of the first 10 minutes you've seen everything in the movie (except Abe Vigoda), and it's still just plain fun. Watch it. Right now!
I'll introduce you to one of the few quotes I like from Meg Ryan, as delivered in "Joe vs. The Volcano*:"L
"My father says that almost the whole world is asleep. Everybody you know. Everybody you see. Everybody you talk to. He says that only a few people are awake and they live in a state of constant total amazement."
I stand by this. Every moment I've got is a moment to treasure.
The moment I go to sleep, the moment I stop trying to stay awake, is a sad day in my personal history. A sad, gray day.
*"Joe vs. The Volcano" is about the greatest movie ever. Really. It looks almost like a stage production, especially some of the shots where Tom Hanks is floating in the ocean... the repetitious symbols are awesome. Inside of the first 10 minutes you've seen everything in the movie (except Abe Vigoda), and it's still just plain fun. Watch it. Right now!
She
This, woman, is partly why I'm the luckiest man there is.
Mostly, though, I can sum it up with 6 words:
You love me, I love you.
How simple and wonderful it is to have that kind of relationship. I pirouette on top of the Eiffel Tower. I dance on moonbeams.
I smile at icebergs and tip my hat at agony.
All the woes that life hands us are transient. Momentary distractions to the wonder that is our togetherness. No storm will not pass.
Mostly, though, I can sum it up with 6 words:
You love me, I love you.
How simple and wonderful it is to have that kind of relationship. I pirouette on top of the Eiffel Tower. I dance on moonbeams.
I smile at icebergs and tip my hat at agony.
All the woes that life hands us are transient. Momentary distractions to the wonder that is our togetherness. No storm will not pass.
And now for something completely different.
Partial conversation:
W: "On whose authority is all this based?"
C: "Mine. I am the sole authority. I am King of Mars."
UB: "Can I be King of Uranus?"
C: "No."
And, on a totally unrelated note to the above, but to cap off the beautiful experiences I've been having as of late...
The vacuum broke. Right after the only stipulation the CPS person gave us was that we needed to clean up. It broke right on our living room floor.
W: "On whose authority is all this based?"
C: "Mine. I am the sole authority. I am King of Mars."
UB: "Can I be King of Uranus?"
C: "No."
And, on a totally unrelated note to the above, but to cap off the beautiful experiences I've been having as of late...
The vacuum broke. Right after the only stipulation the CPS person gave us was that we needed to clean up. It broke right on our living room floor.
14.08.2006
Child Protection Circuses
LADIEEEEEES AND GEN-TLE-MEN, AND CHILDREN OF ALLLLLLLL AGES,
Welcome to the greatest show on earth! My life!
I'll bet you were wondering what ever became of a certain psychotic's claim that my children ate nothing but banana bread, since a phone call is never the end of it. As one might surmise, a visit from some local authority was practically destiny.
It still took me by surprise.
9:45 or so this morning my doorbell rang, and I expected a neighbor when I opened the door. "Hi, my name's Peggy, I'm with the Child Protection Services! We received a complaint that your children are starving and eating only banana bread, may I come in?"
Now, I had offered something like that to my ex, but she'd apparently declined, owing to a lack of actual concern for her child. She's delegating her parental obligations to the local CPS branch. Can't say as I'm impressed.
I want to rant, to scream, and to call BH and cry on his shoulder about this. My former sister-in-law abandoned her kids, and still had a chance at keeping them, but that's the deep south. I'm in the middle of no-man's land with little support outside of wife and kids.
What I think Satan wanted was for us to be taken to court and have children removed from us... Ultraboy would naturally go with the wonderful caregiver that was sitting in the courtroom weeping over the plight of the children (because she cares about all children... even child molesters). This didn't happen.
Peggy looked at our pantry and kitchen, frowning at the mess but noting that we obviously had plenty of food. She interviewed the kids, save the littlest, and came to talk to me and the missus.
She talked pleasantly about our situation, since we aren't that badly off. "Whoever filed this report, and I can't say names, clearly didn't have all the facts."
"Oh, we know who filed."
"Who do you think filed it?"
And so the explanation of Satan and the banana bread came forth. It was nice to get some of that off my chest, how the woman wouldn't listen to the truth and that even her own son had laughed at her over-the-top reaction.
"There is something else here... we didn't respond to it earlier, but I thought I'd ask you about this report that UB..."
"Does this involve a concussion," I asked.
"Noooo..." and I could hear her storing that one for questioning. I'll probably hear about it on a future visit. And there will be more.
"It involves sexual molestation. We didn't respond because you were notifying the school that it had occured, which is appropriate action, but I want some more information."
Admittedly, it would be delicious if the princess of darkness got a visit from CPS on a day that Jerry's kid was there with Ultraboy and she and Jerry were out on a date. One could only hope that I could sit in the back of the court for that hearing.
but I doubt I'd be crying.
Welcome to the greatest show on earth! My life!
I'll bet you were wondering what ever became of a certain psychotic's claim that my children ate nothing but banana bread, since a phone call is never the end of it. As one might surmise, a visit from some local authority was practically destiny.
It still took me by surprise.
9:45 or so this morning my doorbell rang, and I expected a neighbor when I opened the door. "Hi, my name's Peggy, I'm with the Child Protection Services! We received a complaint that your children are starving and eating only banana bread, may I come in?"
Now, I had offered something like that to my ex, but she'd apparently declined, owing to a lack of actual concern for her child. She's delegating her parental obligations to the local CPS branch. Can't say as I'm impressed.
I want to rant, to scream, and to call BH and cry on his shoulder about this. My former sister-in-law abandoned her kids, and still had a chance at keeping them, but that's the deep south. I'm in the middle of no-man's land with little support outside of wife and kids.
What I think Satan wanted was for us to be taken to court and have children removed from us... Ultraboy would naturally go with the wonderful caregiver that was sitting in the courtroom weeping over the plight of the children (because she cares about all children... even child molesters). This didn't happen.
Peggy looked at our pantry and kitchen, frowning at the mess but noting that we obviously had plenty of food. She interviewed the kids, save the littlest, and came to talk to me and the missus.
She talked pleasantly about our situation, since we aren't that badly off. "Whoever filed this report, and I can't say names, clearly didn't have all the facts."
"Oh, we know who filed."
"Who do you think filed it?"
And so the explanation of Satan and the banana bread came forth. It was nice to get some of that off my chest, how the woman wouldn't listen to the truth and that even her own son had laughed at her over-the-top reaction.
"There is something else here... we didn't respond to it earlier, but I thought I'd ask you about this report that UB..."
"Does this involve a concussion," I asked.
"Noooo..." and I could hear her storing that one for questioning. I'll probably hear about it on a future visit. And there will be more.
"It involves sexual molestation. We didn't respond because you were notifying the school that it had occured, which is appropriate action, but I want some more information."
Admittedly, it would be delicious if the princess of darkness got a visit from CPS on a day that Jerry's kid was there with Ultraboy and she and Jerry were out on a date. One could only hope that I could sit in the back of the court for that hearing.
but I doubt I'd be crying.
12.08.2006
Crazy like moose (War U Bin?)
Many of you might be wondering about Satan, and her desire to plague my life and that of my son by yelling "...but I'm his mother!"
Her latest concern is that I'm not feeding him anything but banana bread. I'll grant that alot of that has passed through my home and even across my breakfast table (no other meals, I swear), but one glance in my pantry allows one to assess that I do have more than just banana bread in the house.
Recently Ultraboy was on the phone with her and explained that we had copious amounts of banana bread, and laughed at her reaction that she was "worried" about us only eating banana bread when he hung up.
Finally, a little warning that the maelstrom of psychosis was about to rage upon me.
Sure as h3||, I got an email the following day:
[summary]
I'm very concerned about ultraboy, as he has only eaten banana bread for the past two weeks. He tells me that he is so thankful to the neighbors for feeding him and that he ess so starfing.
You are a bad father, and I want to change custody with you, until you get back on your feet. Also, possession is 9/10ths of the law, and you'll never see your son again. Jerk.
[/summary]
I responded by saying that Satan could perhaps get webshots of our pantry, or could question UB on what the contents of the pantry are. Perhaps by naming shelf and position.
She accused me of lying. Whatever my 11.5 year old son says is gospel, even though it's wrong. Whatever I say, unless it is in accordance with said gospel, is a lie. Otherwise, it's probably a perversion of the truth.
KHHHAAAAAAAAANNN!
Her latest concern is that I'm not feeding him anything but banana bread. I'll grant that alot of that has passed through my home and even across my breakfast table (no other meals, I swear), but one glance in my pantry allows one to assess that I do have more than just banana bread in the house.
Recently Ultraboy was on the phone with her and explained that we had copious amounts of banana bread, and laughed at her reaction that she was "worried" about us only eating banana bread when he hung up.
Finally, a little warning that the maelstrom of psychosis was about to rage upon me.
Sure as h3||, I got an email the following day:
[summary]
I'm very concerned about ultraboy, as he has only eaten banana bread for the past two weeks. He tells me that he is so thankful to the neighbors for feeding him and that he ess so starfing.
You are a bad father, and I want to change custody with you, until you get back on your feet. Also, possession is 9/10ths of the law, and you'll never see your son again. Jerk.
[/summary]
I responded by saying that Satan could perhaps get webshots of our pantry, or could question UB on what the contents of the pantry are. Perhaps by naming shelf and position.
She accused me of lying. Whatever my 11.5 year old son says is gospel, even though it's wrong. Whatever I say, unless it is in accordance with said gospel, is a lie. Otherwise, it's probably a perversion of the truth.
KHHHAAAAAAAAANNN!
I love curves!
Recently there was quite the debacle in the computer lab about yours truly. While I do have a staggering intellect, I had not considered myself as doing as well in one of my computer science classes as someone suggested.
In fact, they accused me of ruining the grade curve for everybody. This was because, my accuser claimed, I had scored so well on the tests that no mere mortal could compete.
Now, I managed a C in that class. A high C, to be certain, but not something to be proud of.
Until I discovered two things:
1) Most people did worse. These same associates directed me to a website showing the average grade for the course (several CS classes were . It was a college site, and reasonably sound.
2) I had done exceptionally well on the tests... I had not turned in a number of homework assignments (I'm a busy guy... and "1" is a number. In this case it was 2-3, and I don't care). The tests determined the curve. The homework value was not adjusted.
It turns out that I had ruined the curve for everyone. And don't think I didn't act smug about it once I figured that out.
Now, of course, I have to live up to that reputation.
I admit to being nervous about Chemical Engineering.
In fact, they accused me of ruining the grade curve for everybody. This was because, my accuser claimed, I had scored so well on the tests that no mere mortal could compete.
Now, I managed a C in that class. A high C, to be certain, but not something to be proud of.
Until I discovered two things:
1) Most people did worse. These same associates directed me to a website showing the average grade for the course (several CS classes were . It was a college site, and reasonably sound.
2) I had done exceptionally well on the tests... I had not turned in a number of homework assignments (I'm a busy guy... and "1" is a number. In this case it was 2-3, and I don't care). The tests determined the curve. The homework value was not adjusted.
It turns out that I had ruined the curve for everyone. And don't think I didn't act smug about it once I figured that out.
Now, of course, I have to live up to that reputation.
I admit to being nervous about Chemical Engineering.
Ethics on Ear
I think that my brother suffers from a similar problem to me. I hope it's true, because the alternative would be that he likes hanging out with bad people because he believes that he is a bad person.
He wants to convert them. To lead by example.
It's what I want. To show bad people that it's great and fun to be good. Granted, it's my kind of good, but you have to admit to it being a decent start.
Besides, I love them. In the same way that I love all human beings (Satan does not count as human, seeing as how she's pure, concentrated evil).
So, the temptation to get to know them and try and figure out why they are bad, and maybe help them not be that way, is pretty strong. Only you can't. Because they don't want help. So you wind up associating with scum and being associated with scum. Which results in you being confused. Now you're crazy and scum.
Somehow, for the most part, I've shown pretty good judgement on this front. From what I hear, my brother continues to hang out with scum. This doesn't mean that he doesn't have good judgement... just that he hasn't worried about the effect on himself when deciding who to come in contact with. Course, everything I know comes second-,third-, or (in some rare instances), fourth-hand.
Right now he's looking for a fresh start, and I'm more than happy to help him. He's a good man in need of a good life.
He wants to convert them. To lead by example.
It's what I want. To show bad people that it's great and fun to be good. Granted, it's my kind of good, but you have to admit to it being a decent start.
Besides, I love them. In the same way that I love all human beings (Satan does not count as human, seeing as how she's pure, concentrated evil).
So, the temptation to get to know them and try and figure out why they are bad, and maybe help them not be that way, is pretty strong. Only you can't. Because they don't want help. So you wind up associating with scum and being associated with scum. Which results in you being confused. Now you're crazy and scum.
Somehow, for the most part, I've shown pretty good judgement on this front. From what I hear, my brother continues to hang out with scum. This doesn't mean that he doesn't have good judgement... just that he hasn't worried about the effect on himself when deciding who to come in contact with. Course, everything I know comes second-,third-, or (in some rare instances), fourth-hand.
Right now he's looking for a fresh start, and I'm more than happy to help him. He's a good man in need of a good life.
09.08.2006
One small Questing...
My boys have recently started playing Adventure Quest, the game for people who just really need to get a game fix. In theory it's an RPG, and I guess that holds up when you use the Computer Gaming definition. Still, it's extremely repetative. It's more like "The Legend Of Zelda".
Except, of course, no Ganon.
At the moment they play Dragon Fable, a spinoff of Adventure Quest. It's pretty much the same, only some slightly cooler functions.
These games are currently free, if you can get on the server. The server for AQ is usually packed at mid-day, but Dragon Fable is stress-testing right now. You can get on whenever. You can get on whenever, as you quickly learn, should you send the folk in Florida $20 American for it. It's good for the life of the game, so it's not a subscription gig... but it only covers AQ as far as I can tell. Dragon Fable costs $30+, and between the two you could purchase something that is equally as valuable 5 times over:
Tetris: Not an RPG, but it's well worth the $10 you shell for the game.
Civilization 2": The graphics are better, and it's far more addictive.
Rainbow Six: Duuuude.
Splinter Cell: Another excellent game. It doesn't have the replay value of CivII or Tetris, but it's definitely an RPG to the C and the "sneak around and not shoot stuff" play remains a favorite.
Pretty much every cool 80's arcade game. Plus soundtrack (for an additional $10).
Any Myst game. It will take you long enough to solve the puzzles that it might as well be repetitive, with the advantage that it isn't.
Max Payne manages to squeak in on a technicality. I've fiddled with it a bit, and the game is dark, but definitely an RPG+shooter with a dark sense of humor. The Noir feel is incredible. Made by those cretins that put together "Grand Theft Auto". To my surprise.
Baldur's Gate doesn't have any such excuse. I've never played it, but every bit of press I've seen has been positive. It is allegedly one of the best CRPGs ever.
Another "never played it", Advent Rising makes the list solely because it's written by Orson Scott Card. I'd like to encourage professional writers to involve themselves in the production of entertainment. Good ones.
Bad graphics don't stop Roller coaster Tycoon from being an excellent edition for most any gaming cabinet. It lacks anything really objectionable and is so cartoony as to be almost adorable. Plus the occassional crash.
Risk goes much faster on the computer, and is soooo worth the coin. (Price was listed as .01 dollars as of this writing).
An educational classic:
Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego? is such a fun game, and not so repetitive for the younger set as to be worthless in 2 games.
Pirates! gets an honorable mention. It's $20, but it's a fine example of a good game that just doesn't get old.
That's what I've got... feel free to add info.
Except, of course, no Ganon.
At the moment they play Dragon Fable, a spinoff of Adventure Quest. It's pretty much the same, only some slightly cooler functions.
These games are currently free, if you can get on the server. The server for AQ is usually packed at mid-day, but Dragon Fable is stress-testing right now. You can get on whenever. You can get on whenever, as you quickly learn, should you send the folk in Florida $20 American for it. It's good for the life of the game, so it's not a subscription gig... but it only covers AQ as far as I can tell. Dragon Fable costs $30+, and between the two you could purchase something that is equally as valuable 5 times over:
Tetris: Not an RPG, but it's well worth the $10 you shell for the game.
Civilization 2": The graphics are better, and it's far more addictive.
Rainbow Six: Duuuude.
Splinter Cell: Another excellent game. It doesn't have the replay value of CivII or Tetris, but it's definitely an RPG to the C and the "sneak around and not shoot stuff" play remains a favorite.
Pretty much every cool 80's arcade game. Plus soundtrack (for an additional $10).
Any Myst game. It will take you long enough to solve the puzzles that it might as well be repetitive, with the advantage that it isn't.
Max Payne manages to squeak in on a technicality. I've fiddled with it a bit, and the game is dark, but definitely an RPG+shooter with a dark sense of humor. The Noir feel is incredible. Made by those cretins that put together "Grand Theft Auto". To my surprise.
Baldur's Gate doesn't have any such excuse. I've never played it, but every bit of press I've seen has been positive. It is allegedly one of the best CRPGs ever.
Another "never played it", Advent Rising makes the list solely because it's written by Orson Scott Card. I'd like to encourage professional writers to involve themselves in the production of entertainment. Good ones.
Bad graphics don't stop Roller coaster Tycoon from being an excellent edition for most any gaming cabinet. It lacks anything really objectionable and is so cartoony as to be almost adorable. Plus the occassional crash.
Risk goes much faster on the computer, and is soooo worth the coin. (Price was listed as .01 dollars as of this writing).
An educational classic:
Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego? is such a fun game, and not so repetitive for the younger set as to be worthless in 2 games.
Pirates! gets an honorable mention. It's $20, but it's a fine example of a good game that just doesn't get old.
That's what I've got... feel free to add info.
Ask not...
Well, I went ahead and whined about my job. To my boss. Not the boss at the location, but the Temp Boss that hired me for that position.
Me: "No, I'm just saying that it involves heavy lifting, and I remember saying... yes, I'll hold."
Her: "Don't worry about going to work tomorrow."
It was that fast. And I'm still not sure how grateful I should be. I mean, having a job was/is very important. Not the work, exactly, but the pay. I recognize that my family is struggling... we're all having a hard time, and doing my bit made me feel better.
Mind, the physical labor made me feel rotten. Really. Getting home, I couldn't move. My back still feels like I was in the running of the bulls and tripped. Uck.
I'm a bit conflicted here. I'll live, and I imagine some clerical work will come my way eventually.
No money. Except the 2 days I did work.
Moving on.
Me: "No, I'm just saying that it involves heavy lifting, and I remember saying... yes, I'll hold."
Her: "Don't worry about going to work tomorrow."
It was that fast. And I'm still not sure how grateful I should be. I mean, having a job was/is very important. Not the work, exactly, but the pay. I recognize that my family is struggling... we're all having a hard time, and doing my bit made me feel better.
Mind, the physical labor made me feel rotten. Really. Getting home, I couldn't move. My back still feels like I was in the running of the bulls and tripped. Uck.
I'm a bit conflicted here. I'll live, and I imagine some clerical work will come my way eventually.
No money. Except the 2 days I did work.
Moving on.
07.08.2006
Geneaology
I tell you that the pursuit of one's past is maddening. Oh, and here are a few more apostrophes: ''''''. Use liberally.
I'm trying in particular to find my native american roots, in hopes of getting money for college.
I found one. She appears on the Dawes Roll, which certifies her as being 100% native american at the time. The problem? She wasn't. She may have been 1/16th. Maybe.
I'll continue scratching my head until I pass out from exhaustion.
I'm trying in particular to find my native american roots, in hopes of getting money for college.
I found one. She appears on the Dawes Roll, which certifies her as being 100% native american at the time. The problem? She wasn't. She may have been 1/16th. Maybe.
I'll continue scratching my head until I pass out from exhaustion.
Got a job!
Lowly though it may be, I work for the next two weeks. Unless I say otherwise. At the pittance of $9.00/hr, I'm tasked with lifting heavy objects and counting things. My immediate supervisor is an accountant with no sympathy.
Math
Let's add this up:
Work + pain + wife in chronic pain while children run over her = something just short of Hell.
Let me describe my current work situation: I spent my first day getting up at 6:00am am to get to work by 7:00am, wherein I was given an anti-static smock (which I was prepared for), led to the warehouse, and immdiately encouraged to lift heavy boxes and count things until my eyes burned out. I did this until about 3:30, when I began to run errands for the family, which were necessary. I came home just after 5:00 to collapse in something my wife calls "the ball of pain (and whimpering)", only to find that my wife was on the verge of a nervous breakdown owing to the children running roughshod all over her today. Not only that, but she could hardly move, a state that I shared with her.
I specifically told the temp agency not to give me heavy lifting work, and yet here I am... I need the income, but I'm not sure I can stay at a job that requires this of me.
Le Sigh.
Work + pain + wife in chronic pain while children run over her = something just short of Hell.
Let me describe my current work situation: I spent my first day getting up at 6:00am am to get to work by 7:00am, wherein I was given an anti-static smock (which I was prepared for), led to the warehouse, and immdiately encouraged to lift heavy boxes and count things until my eyes burned out. I did this until about 3:30, when I began to run errands for the family, which were necessary. I came home just after 5:00 to collapse in something my wife calls "the ball of pain (and whimpering)", only to find that my wife was on the verge of a nervous breakdown owing to the children running roughshod all over her today. Not only that, but she could hardly move, a state that I shared with her.
I specifically told the temp agency not to give me heavy lifting work, and yet here I am... I need the income, but I'm not sure I can stay at a job that requires this of me.
Le Sigh.
Fun Love
Spot the obscure pop-culture cross-reference!
My wife recently suggested that polygamy might make a comeback, what with all the discussion these days on what constitutes a traditional marriage, and whether that institute needs saving. Should things go south for traditional marriage, she suggests, all definitions could go out the window.
Now, I wanna state that I'm not opposed to plural marriage. I'm pretty much in the "whatever floats your boat" camp. I'm not opposed to gay men marrying each other, rainbows marrying dolphins, trees marrying Neptune, or whatever.
But I know that plural marriage has stigma on it that gay doesn't. Why? Because, in this country, it is attached strongly to the LDS church, which did at one point in history have adherents that practiced plural marriage.
If someone suggested that it was the cultural right of an Arabian to have plural marriage, and that movement gained momentum, there might be a slim chance. But probably not. Arabs are simply a very small voice in a land that either doesn't care, and wouldn't vote on the issue, or does care, and would oppose it.
And, would it be a good thing?
Personally, I'm going to adapt a line with: "think of the taxes!"
There are plenty of things that have already been said regarding society/culture and polygamy, but I don't think it's been put in practical enough terms to really consider it.
Another thing: mainstream America isn't seriously looking at polygamy. Oh, sure, there's that sitcom ("Big Love") out there, which offers a little bit of "chew on this", but that's not an approval device, last I checked.
So, there's the question: Polygamy in America's Future?
Discuss.
My wife recently suggested that polygamy might make a comeback, what with all the discussion these days on what constitutes a traditional marriage, and whether that institute needs saving. Should things go south for traditional marriage, she suggests, all definitions could go out the window.
Now, I wanna state that I'm not opposed to plural marriage. I'm pretty much in the "whatever floats your boat" camp. I'm not opposed to gay men marrying each other, rainbows marrying dolphins, trees marrying Neptune, or whatever.
But I know that plural marriage has stigma on it that gay doesn't. Why? Because, in this country, it is attached strongly to the LDS church, which did at one point in history have adherents that practiced plural marriage.
If someone suggested that it was the cultural right of an Arabian to have plural marriage, and that movement gained momentum, there might be a slim chance. But probably not. Arabs are simply a very small voice in a land that either doesn't care, and wouldn't vote on the issue, or does care, and would oppose it.
And, would it be a good thing?
Personally, I'm going to adapt a line with: "think of the taxes!"
There are plenty of things that have already been said regarding society/culture and polygamy, but I don't think it's been put in practical enough terms to really consider it.
Another thing: mainstream America isn't seriously looking at polygamy. Oh, sure, there's that sitcom ("Big Love") out there, which offers a little bit of "chew on this", but that's not an approval device, last I checked.
So, there's the question: Polygamy in America's Future?
Discuss.
05.08.2006
I'm going to hell for this...
A while back I wrote that Bush is/was a good president.
Then, when confronted, I backed off, stating that he wasn't a bad president.
I'll admit that there are worlds of difference between the two, but let me resume my initial stance:
George W. Bush is a good president.
Some of my audience might accuse me of trying to be controversial (again). Let me assure you that such is not the case. I will back up my statements by pointing and laughing. Oh, and something resembling sanity.
The war in Iraq/every other act of violence during this administration: So far it has been this scenario: People with guns shoot at people with guns. W is down with the fair fighting. Unless you believe either a)the opponents are inferior (in which case we can claim "manifest destiny" or b)we are inferior (in which case you should not live in a poorly defended land... move).
Mr. Bush is defending U.S. interests abroad, such as securing oil, handing reconstruction contracts to (American) companies, etc. He should be applauded. He's also building a local structure that allows for stronger trade ties and a wider knowledge base in that area. In the long run this might spell the doom of the U.S. economy as Iraq might be in a better position to exploit all of that precious sand, or something. Only history will tell. Until then, Mr. Bush has a fan over here.
Well, how about the "terrorists" that have been found? How've they been treated down at Guantanamo? Who cares? Are these American citizens? We are waiting to confirm the jurisdiction of the military over enemies of state: people who would strike at the heart of America with little concern for innocence. And just what exactly does the President have to do with their treatment? People make him sound like a James Bond villain, down there whenever someone new is admitted because he likes to see them 'broken'.
Having been in the military, I can tell you that the first... no, wait... (counts on fingers)... okay, the sixth thing they pound into your noggin is that you treat prisoners with respect and humanity. I seriously doubt that Bush changed that, owing to how most of us remember the infamous "we were just following ze orders" defense former Nazis tried.
Immigration: Okay, this one is tough. Why? Because there is simply no way of knowing how it will all play out. You can suggest and point to graphs, but human behavior is incredibly unpredictable. Also, Mexico's situation might change enough to discourage emmigration. Or Columbia might be the new hot spot to immigrate to. So, right now, you can be for or against Bush on this topic, but it means very little about whether he's good, bad, or just ugly.
But I'll try to defend Bush's position anyway, because I'm for immigration. If I'm right about amnesty (not giving them U.S. citizenship, but not sending them away), then this is another good plan. Why? Because America needs cheap labor. Uneducated labor that is currently done by the overqualified. Owing to the state of our education system, these jobs are held by either those in high school or high school dropouts... but what if those jobs were held by immigrants? What if everyone in an American high school knew that? I think graduation rates would go up, and everyone wins.
Once again Bush is a good president.
Tell you what, I'm done for now, but you can point me to a link, and I'll explain why whatever it is Bush is being accused of is a good thing. Using only info on that site. And my brain.
Then, when confronted, I backed off, stating that he wasn't a bad president.
I'll admit that there are worlds of difference between the two, but let me resume my initial stance:
George W. Bush is a good president.
Some of my audience might accuse me of trying to be controversial (again). Let me assure you that such is not the case. I will back up my statements by pointing and laughing. Oh, and something resembling sanity.
The war in Iraq/every other act of violence during this administration: So far it has been this scenario: People with guns shoot at people with guns. W is down with the fair fighting. Unless you believe either a)the opponents are inferior (in which case we can claim "manifest destiny" or b)we are inferior (in which case you should not live in a poorly defended land... move).
Mr. Bush is defending U.S. interests abroad, such as securing oil, handing reconstruction contracts to (American) companies, etc. He should be applauded. He's also building a local structure that allows for stronger trade ties and a wider knowledge base in that area. In the long run this might spell the doom of the U.S. economy as Iraq might be in a better position to exploit all of that precious sand, or something. Only history will tell. Until then, Mr. Bush has a fan over here.
Well, how about the "terrorists" that have been found? How've they been treated down at Guantanamo? Who cares? Are these American citizens? We are waiting to confirm the jurisdiction of the military over enemies of state: people who would strike at the heart of America with little concern for innocence. And just what exactly does the President have to do with their treatment? People make him sound like a James Bond villain, down there whenever someone new is admitted because he likes to see them 'broken'.
Having been in the military, I can tell you that the first... no, wait... (counts on fingers)... okay, the sixth thing they pound into your noggin is that you treat prisoners with respect and humanity. I seriously doubt that Bush changed that, owing to how most of us remember the infamous "we were just following ze orders" defense former Nazis tried.
Immigration: Okay, this one is tough. Why? Because there is simply no way of knowing how it will all play out. You can suggest and point to graphs, but human behavior is incredibly unpredictable. Also, Mexico's situation might change enough to discourage emmigration. Or Columbia might be the new hot spot to immigrate to. So, right now, you can be for or against Bush on this topic, but it means very little about whether he's good, bad, or just ugly.
But I'll try to defend Bush's position anyway, because I'm for immigration. If I'm right about amnesty (not giving them U.S. citizenship, but not sending them away), then this is another good plan. Why? Because America needs cheap labor. Uneducated labor that is currently done by the overqualified. Owing to the state of our education system, these jobs are held by either those in high school or high school dropouts... but what if those jobs were held by immigrants? What if everyone in an American high school knew that? I think graduation rates would go up, and everyone wins.
Once again Bush is a good president.
Tell you what, I'm done for now, but you can point me to a link, and I'll explain why whatever it is Bush is being accused of is a good thing. Using only info on that site. And my brain.
C-I-C-E-O
Those in the know are aware that I now head a corporation*. These means very little, as the expected income of the corporation is $0. Recently, in my management class, it was revealed that there is a shortage of CEOs, which is what drives the price up. To around $2-3 million (before benefits, such as stock options).
The downsides of being a CEO include:
Working 80 hour weeks. (This usually has a negative impact on family life, or dating.)
Expected to be relieved in 5 years.
Upsides include:
A tremendous amount of money.
An entire company at your mercy, and, in some cases, an industry.
Social responsibilities, including attending parties of the rich and famous. (One could put this under "downsides," but I don't think I will).
Should some company of a profitable nature ask me nicely, I might be willing to step down from my current position in order to attend to their needs.
On the other side of the coin, I'm making other CEOs look bad by working for no money. They should pay me just to keep the average up. I imagine that 2-4 hundred thousand ought to help. Spread out over the bigger companies, that's pretty much a drop in the bucket.
Of course, one could argue that I'm getting 100% of the profits as pay, and I don't think I could successfully argue against that.
My wife has the honor of being our CEE. "What's that," you ask? Why, it's the Chief Executive of Ethics.
*I'm also the Chief Science Officer. We share joint responsibility of CIO, CFO, and E-I-E-I-O.
The downsides of being a CEO include:
Working 80 hour weeks. (This usually has a negative impact on family life, or dating.)
Expected to be relieved in 5 years.
Upsides include:
A tremendous amount of money.
An entire company at your mercy, and, in some cases, an industry.
Social responsibilities, including attending parties of the rich and famous. (One could put this under "downsides," but I don't think I will).
Should some company of a profitable nature ask me nicely, I might be willing to step down from my current position in order to attend to their needs.
On the other side of the coin, I'm making other CEOs look bad by working for no money. They should pay me just to keep the average up. I imagine that 2-4 hundred thousand ought to help. Spread out over the bigger companies, that's pretty much a drop in the bucket.
Of course, one could argue that I'm getting 100% of the profits as pay, and I don't think I could successfully argue against that.
My wife has the honor of being our CEE. "What's that," you ask? Why, it's the Chief Executive of Ethics.
*I'm also the Chief Science Officer. We share joint responsibility of CIO, CFO, and E-I-E-I-O.
04.08.2006
Owie...
Today I picked up a new entertainment center for my living room.
Yeah... then I put it right back down (rimshot!).
Seriously, I managed to con the woman that I was getting it from (for free!) to hoist it down three flights of stairs with me. This involved taking every part that could be removed off (and some that couldn't, but came off anyway) and screaming alot. Also crying.
Now, for most people this would be the bulk of the story... but you've heard that one before.
Bah, I tell you.
Instead, I will tell you that this behemoth took up my entire backseat and half of my front seat. The discomfort I felt getting that beast down the stairs was like a romp in the meadows of youth, coupled with a bath in ambrosia compared to the nightmare of forcing my legs around my gearshift and pressing my chest against the steering column in some ludicrous mockery of clown car gymnastics. Had I 14 or so friends in there, I might have declared myself having juvenile sorts of fun. Haha.
Crushed as I were, with forehead straining the windshield for space, I drove 1/2 a mile before locating someone that might be able to help me.
This woman, whom I know from years ago as co-worker, now assists me in my search for temporary employment. I recently bestowed banana bread upon her and her daughter, and I thought she might be willing to see me as a poor soul in need of aid.
When she saw the compartment that I had driven in she gasped in horror. This is a good indicator that help will be forthcoming.
"You can't drive like that," she said, shocked that I had done so.
"You can't drive like that," she repeated, with a change in tone, turning to look at my tall self.
"You can't drive like that," she finalized, marching me into the spacious offices of "Dolt Temporary Employment".
She handed me old computer cables (which I kept), hoping that they might secure the back of my vehicle, from which she planned to draw forth a portion of the leviathan that resided within.
But then she changed her mind. "Bungies," she declared as if struck by the sharp edge of inspiration," and we wandered about her office finding all manner of things unbungie-like. We did find several rubber bands, but we thought it best to exclude them from the process.
We also found a very tall, dark, ominous, and locked closet. This created quite a stir, as no one could recall having seen the closet before. Keys clattered, and the landlord was called in, who merely scratched her head.
"I don't think I've ever seen this," she announced, wandering off and leaving us to our own devices.
My friend turned to me, asking, "do you know what we could use to get in?"
"Det cord," I offered. She politely declined.
"A sledgehammer?" Again, no.
I followed her to the kitchen area. Yes, the office has a kitchen. A real one. Don't ask me.
She drew out something I had not seen since high school.
An icing spatula.
Let us shower praise upon the inventor of this marvelous tool. It is apparently durable enough to jimmy open a locked closet (kids, do not try this at home).
This closet had become something of a mystical portal for me, into which we might travel and see all manner of mythical creatures in a Lewisian setting with scope and grandeur. Or perhaps some dark place with the steam of the underground roiling past as we unleashed a veritable Box L'Pandora upon the world.
Inside we found about 20 phones, a cash register that is older than any living member of my extended family, and a roll of duck(tm) tape.
Perfect.
A man of great wisdom once said, "if you can't fix it... duck it!"
Words to live by.
We actually taped my car shut. Do not try this at home... we are professionals.
Shortly after arriving home and cleaning everything in sight and cooking dinner 3 men arrived and quickly drew the beast into the home like an intake of breath.
And then it was settled.
"The damage doesn't look as bad from out here."
C-3PO, "Star Wars"
Yeah... then I put it right back down (rimshot!).
Seriously, I managed to con the woman that I was getting it from (for free!) to hoist it down three flights of stairs with me. This involved taking every part that could be removed off (and some that couldn't, but came off anyway) and screaming alot. Also crying.
Now, for most people this would be the bulk of the story... but you've heard that one before.
Bah, I tell you.
Instead, I will tell you that this behemoth took up my entire backseat and half of my front seat. The discomfort I felt getting that beast down the stairs was like a romp in the meadows of youth, coupled with a bath in ambrosia compared to the nightmare of forcing my legs around my gearshift and pressing my chest against the steering column in some ludicrous mockery of clown car gymnastics. Had I 14 or so friends in there, I might have declared myself having juvenile sorts of fun. Haha.
Crushed as I were, with forehead straining the windshield for space, I drove 1/2 a mile before locating someone that might be able to help me.
This woman, whom I know from years ago as co-worker, now assists me in my search for temporary employment. I recently bestowed banana bread upon her and her daughter, and I thought she might be willing to see me as a poor soul in need of aid.
When she saw the compartment that I had driven in she gasped in horror. This is a good indicator that help will be forthcoming.
"You can't drive like that," she said, shocked that I had done so.
"You can't drive like that," she repeated, with a change in tone, turning to look at my tall self.
"You can't drive like that," she finalized, marching me into the spacious offices of "Dolt Temporary Employment".
She handed me old computer cables (which I kept), hoping that they might secure the back of my vehicle, from which she planned to draw forth a portion of the leviathan that resided within.
But then she changed her mind. "Bungies," she declared as if struck by the sharp edge of inspiration," and we wandered about her office finding all manner of things unbungie-like. We did find several rubber bands, but we thought it best to exclude them from the process.
We also found a very tall, dark, ominous, and locked closet. This created quite a stir, as no one could recall having seen the closet before. Keys clattered, and the landlord was called in, who merely scratched her head.
"I don't think I've ever seen this," she announced, wandering off and leaving us to our own devices.
My friend turned to me, asking, "do you know what we could use to get in?"
"Det cord," I offered. She politely declined.
"A sledgehammer?" Again, no.
I followed her to the kitchen area. Yes, the office has a kitchen. A real one. Don't ask me.
She drew out something I had not seen since high school.
An icing spatula.
Let us shower praise upon the inventor of this marvelous tool. It is apparently durable enough to jimmy open a locked closet (kids, do not try this at home).
This closet had become something of a mystical portal for me, into which we might travel and see all manner of mythical creatures in a Lewisian setting with scope and grandeur. Or perhaps some dark place with the steam of the underground roiling past as we unleashed a veritable Box L'Pandora upon the world.
Inside we found about 20 phones, a cash register that is older than any living member of my extended family, and a roll of duck(tm) tape.
Perfect.
A man of great wisdom once said, "if you can't fix it... duck it!"
Words to live by.
We actually taped my car shut. Do not try this at home... we are professionals.
Shortly after arriving home and cleaning everything in sight and cooking dinner 3 men arrived and quickly drew the beast into the home like an intake of breath.
And then it was settled.
"The damage doesn't look as bad from out here."
C-3PO, "Star Wars"
01.08.2006
Vapor Where?
It is that time again... time for another major project due this morning. This one, unlike so many others, was a group project. My group consisted of the following:
a) Lazy Woman
b) Ignorant Man
c & d) Unintelligable Japanese Girls
e) Me. Default Team Leader
LW called me up frequently to make sure that I was doing my work, or coordinating the work of others. This happened every day of this past weekend. Even though she wasn't sending me anything or working on anything. She did prepare her slides, and I am thankful. She also did some research on her topic so that I could write the paper on it.
The others actually wrote theirs.
Ignorant Man proved to just not know his way around project leadership or anything that he'd no exposure to. It turned out okay, once we introduced him to the fundamentals of a remote control for PowerPoint and let him get used to it. His writing was really lively and enjoyable (if poorly spelled).
The Japanese girls will be the focus of the remainder. I once suggested to the Mrs. that I replace their slides with engrish versions just for fun. Just to play with them. I've very glad I did not.
They did that themselves.
The paper was an interesting exercise in determining intent and correcting spelling while trying to maintain the original feel. I sympathize with my wife (the editor) to a great extent right now.
The really interesting event came during the presentation. I passed off the remote to the Americans with no hitch, and the presentations went smooth. Then the Japanese girls got the remote.
After each slide they looked at me. It must've taken me more than a minute to get that they were looking for approval. Some sign that they were doing well. And they were looking at me. I didn't volunteer for the leader position, and this part of it totally took me by surprise. I smiled and nodded during the remainder of the discussion something like once every 1.25 minutes.
I kinda liked it.
a) Lazy Woman
b) Ignorant Man
c & d) Unintelligable Japanese Girls
e) Me. Default Team Leader
LW called me up frequently to make sure that I was doing my work, or coordinating the work of others. This happened every day of this past weekend. Even though she wasn't sending me anything or working on anything. She did prepare her slides, and I am thankful. She also did some research on her topic so that I could write the paper on it.
The others actually wrote theirs.
Ignorant Man proved to just not know his way around project leadership or anything that he'd no exposure to. It turned out okay, once we introduced him to the fundamentals of a remote control for PowerPoint and let him get used to it. His writing was really lively and enjoyable (if poorly spelled).
The Japanese girls will be the focus of the remainder. I once suggested to the Mrs. that I replace their slides with engrish versions just for fun. Just to play with them. I've very glad I did not.
They did that themselves.
The paper was an interesting exercise in determining intent and correcting spelling while trying to maintain the original feel. I sympathize with my wife (the editor) to a great extent right now.
The really interesting event came during the presentation. I passed off the remote to the Americans with no hitch, and the presentations went smooth. Then the Japanese girls got the remote.
After each slide they looked at me. It must've taken me more than a minute to get that they were looking for approval. Some sign that they were doing well. And they were looking at me. I didn't volunteer for the leader position, and this part of it totally took me by surprise. I smiled and nodded during the remainder of the discussion something like once every 1.25 minutes.
I kinda liked it.
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