Bloggus Caesari
(Filched from plasticbag.org.)
Friday, July 12, 2002
Gun.
So last Wednesday I was half-an-hour from going home, right? And one of the people from the Tenants' Association buttonholes me and points out that:
a) There's been a police helicopter circling overhead for the last few minutes and
b) There's a coat shoved under her mate's car which wasn't there ten minutes previously.
Apparently since I am the caretaker, this is my problem. Gingerly approach coat, clock the fact that there's a package wrapped in a black plastic bag underneath it, panic slightly. Ask if anyone knows the number of the local nick. Nobody does. Local kids now home from school and starting to take an unhealthy interest in Suspect Package. Panic goes up a notch. Dial 999, explain situation to Plod. Plod tells me it's probably just some stolen property and generally makes me feel about 2 inches tall & mad, but says he'll send someone round.
Panic panic panic. Police turn up, stroll over to car, poke jacket, pull jacket, find cigarettes in binbag, laugh. Unwrap binbag further to find 1 (one) black balaclava and 1 (one) shotgun barrel made of two bits of pipe taped together, robbers, for the use of.
Police stop laughing, cordon off area, start yelling at kids to get away from the car, etc etc. Apparently someone had knocked off the turf accountant round the corner, hence helicopters and bruhaha.
CID turn up. Divers alarums and excursions. Hang around nervously for a bit then go home, reassured by police assertions that the gun is a dummy.
Go into work on Thursday moring to be informed that alleged fake gun was actually a real gun. A real, homemade gun. A real, dangerous, unreliable, blow-your-face-off, explode-if-you-look-at-it-funny
bloody
GUN.
I was never in any danger. I think. But if I'd just phoned the local police station instead of 999 and then hung around and waited while they decided whether or not to bother turning up, what's the betting that one of the kids would have gone over and kicked said homemade gun, or pointed it at someone-- with hilarious consequences? Homemade guns are not noted for their stability.
The next time I see something like that under a car, I am going to dial 999, snidey plod or no snidey plod.
So last Wednesday I was half-an-hour from going home, right? And one of the people from the Tenants' Association buttonholes me and points out that:
a) There's been a police helicopter circling overhead for the last few minutes and
b) There's a coat shoved under her mate's car which wasn't there ten minutes previously.
Apparently since I am the caretaker, this is my problem. Gingerly approach coat, clock the fact that there's a package wrapped in a black plastic bag underneath it, panic slightly. Ask if anyone knows the number of the local nick. Nobody does. Local kids now home from school and starting to take an unhealthy interest in Suspect Package. Panic goes up a notch. Dial 999, explain situation to Plod. Plod tells me it's probably just some stolen property and generally makes me feel about 2 inches tall & mad, but says he'll send someone round.
Panic panic panic. Police turn up, stroll over to car, poke jacket, pull jacket, find cigarettes in binbag, laugh. Unwrap binbag further to find 1 (one) black balaclava and 1 (one) shotgun barrel made of two bits of pipe taped together, robbers, for the use of.
Police stop laughing, cordon off area, start yelling at kids to get away from the car, etc etc. Apparently someone had knocked off the turf accountant round the corner, hence helicopters and bruhaha.
CID turn up. Divers alarums and excursions. Hang around nervously for a bit then go home, reassured by police assertions that the gun is a dummy.
Go into work on Thursday moring to be informed that alleged fake gun was actually a real gun. A real, homemade gun. A real, dangerous, unreliable, blow-your-face-off, explode-if-you-look-at-it-funny
bloody
GUN.
I was never in any danger. I think. But if I'd just phoned the local police station instead of 999 and then hung around and waited while they decided whether or not to bother turning up, what's the betting that one of the kids would have gone over and kicked said homemade gun, or pointed it at someone-- with hilarious consequences? Homemade guns are not noted for their stability.
The next time I see something like that under a car, I am going to dial 999, snidey plod or no snidey plod.
Wednesday, July 10, 2002
Whine II
Great. Another day of scraping chewing-gum, picking up rubbish, and humping buckets of dirty water up and down stairs. It's not so terrible, of course-- at least I've got a job-- but I find myself thinking, Is this it? Is this all there's ever going to be?
See, what my current situation brings to mind is this. As a kid I worked my backside off to get my BTec, and then I came out in the middle of a recession and found there was hardly any work for anyone, let alone a 17-year-old with a qualification that nobody's heard of. I spent about three and a half years on the dole, being turned down by fast-food joints. I wrote and wrote in those days, some of it better than others, and all I got was a pile of rejection letters.
And now here I am ten or eleven years on, in virtually the same position. Okay, I'm not on the jam roll anymore but Jesus, I've been at Uni for four years (what with doing a foundation course and all), I'm £20,000 in debt, I don't even have my degree yet, and it looks like I won't be signing up for that OU course anytime soon. And the punchline? The best job I've been able to find is caretaking on a housing estate, which leaves me aching all over by the end of the day and nearly too tired to think, let alone write. In another couple of weeks I won't even have that.
Is this it?
Great. Another day of scraping chewing-gum, picking up rubbish, and humping buckets of dirty water up and down stairs. It's not so terrible, of course-- at least I've got a job-- but I find myself thinking, Is this it? Is this all there's ever going to be?
See, what my current situation brings to mind is this. As a kid I worked my backside off to get my BTec, and then I came out in the middle of a recession and found there was hardly any work for anyone, let alone a 17-year-old with a qualification that nobody's heard of. I spent about three and a half years on the dole, being turned down by fast-food joints. I wrote and wrote in those days, some of it better than others, and all I got was a pile of rejection letters.
And now here I am ten or eleven years on, in virtually the same position. Okay, I'm not on the jam roll anymore but Jesus, I've been at Uni for four years (what with doing a foundation course and all), I'm £20,000 in debt, I don't even have my degree yet, and it looks like I won't be signing up for that OU course anytime soon. And the punchline? The best job I've been able to find is caretaking on a housing estate, which leaves me aching all over by the end of the day and nearly too tired to think, let alone write. In another couple of weeks I won't even have that.
Is this it?
Tuesday, July 09, 2002
New Scientist: Humanity's "massive overdraft" with Earth
Quote:
Quote:
"Humanity is currently overusing the Earth's resources by 20 per cent and, if current trends continue, then by 2050 we will need two planet Earths in order to live sustainably..."
A major five-year programme to develop the "holy grail" of HIV vaccine research has been launched... Biotech vapourware or new hope? Either way, I hope the nations where they really need this aren't holding their breath.
Monday, July 08, 2002
New Scientist: "Light can be turned into a glowing stream of liquid that splits into droplets and splatters off surfaces just like water...."
I love the New Scientist. It's better than drugs. And cheaper. And doesn't turn out to be chalk or shoe-polish or a bit of a fencepost.
(Torn from the numb, trembling fingers of Blogdex)
I love the New Scientist. It's better than drugs. And cheaper. And doesn't turn out to be chalk or shoe-polish or a bit of a fencepost.
(Torn from the numb, trembling fingers of Blogdex)
Whine.
It's 7:50, and I have to go to work in half an hour. I am dead. I was up half the night with asthma. Concentrating on anything is going to be interesting today, and I still have to finish that *$?! article. Goddammit.
I'm tired, I'm wheezing like a comics fan poring over a superheroine's clevage, I don't have any good drugs and I have to spend the next eight hours picking up litter for a bunch of rich people.
I hate you.
It's 7:50, and I have to go to work in half an hour. I am dead. I was up half the night with asthma. Concentrating on anything is going to be interesting today, and I still have to finish that *$?! article. Goddammit.
I'm tired, I'm wheezing like a comics fan poring over a superheroine's clevage, I don't have any good drugs and I have to spend the next eight hours picking up litter for a bunch of rich people.
I hate you.
Sunday, July 07, 2002
Mr Stabby - written by Joel Veitch, animation by Weebl
(Knicked shamelessly from theB3ta NEWSLETTER)
(Knicked shamelessly from theB3ta NEWSLETTER)
[Insert macho hangover description of choice here]
Wluuuurggggh. Luke's send-off last night. Tired and emotional.
It completely bites that London shall now be Lukeless. I hope nasty things happen to his erstwhile employers for they richly deserve it.
Wluuuurggggh. Luke's send-off last night. Tired and emotional.
It completely bites that London shall now be Lukeless. I hope nasty things happen to his erstwhile employers for they richly deserve it.
Saturday, July 06, 2002
"Just say no!"
Oh, for the love of Mike. Could this be any more insulting? Hello-oo! Slightly more intelligence than a cucumber over here!
(Via batman doesn't love me anymore)
Oh, for the love of Mike. Could this be any more insulting? Hello-oo! Slightly more intelligence than a cucumber over here!
(Via batman doesn't love me anymore)
Should a Christian Play Dungeons & Dragons?
More comedy fun from Chick Publications .
(Via Cruel Site of the Day)
More comedy fun from Chick Publications .
(Via Cruel Site of the Day)
Thursday, July 04, 2002
"What's that in the flowerbed, Mummy?"
Started my newest day-job today. I turned up to find the reception office empty and the guy who was supposed to be showing me the ropes incommunicado. I spent about half an hour running around and trying to find someone to tell me what the funge I was supposed to be doing before having to go home and ring my agency because nobody at the company who'd hired me knew anything about the booking. In all it took me two hours to sort out.
The job consists of litterpicking and general cleaning round a tiny and very very expensive housing estate. Apparently it used to be a really dodgy area till they bulldozed it and slung up a pile of yuppie-bait flats with turquiose uPVC window frames. Now it's a yuppie area fringed with a strange incongruous rim of dodgyness: huge shiny people-carriers with metallic paintwork parked yards away from burnt-out, boarded-up flats. My job is to prevent the intrusion of any dodgyness into their turquiose uPVC lives, by fishing Macdonald's wrapping and used prophylactics out of the begonias. Oh, and checking that the punters at a nearby dodgy pub haven't chucked used syringes into the kids' play area. Scumbunnies.
'Course, if I decide I don't like this job I can always get another, e.g.: You shall live in the evil toilet. Your job shall be to smack guilty clocks.
(Job generator from Lukelog)
Started my newest day-job today. I turned up to find the reception office empty and the guy who was supposed to be showing me the ropes incommunicado. I spent about half an hour running around and trying to find someone to tell me what the funge I was supposed to be doing before having to go home and ring my agency because nobody at the company who'd hired me knew anything about the booking. In all it took me two hours to sort out.
The job consists of litterpicking and general cleaning round a tiny and very very expensive housing estate. Apparently it used to be a really dodgy area till they bulldozed it and slung up a pile of yuppie-bait flats with turquiose uPVC window frames. Now it's a yuppie area fringed with a strange incongruous rim of dodgyness: huge shiny people-carriers with metallic paintwork parked yards away from burnt-out, boarded-up flats. My job is to prevent the intrusion of any dodgyness into their turquiose uPVC lives, by fishing Macdonald's wrapping and used prophylactics out of the begonias. Oh, and checking that the punters at a nearby dodgy pub haven't chucked used syringes into the kids' play area. Scumbunnies.
'Course, if I decide I don't like this job I can always get another, e.g.: You shall live in the evil toilet. Your job shall be to smack guilty clocks.
(Job generator from Lukelog)
Wednesday, July 03, 2002
Ryan and Jacob are the intellect of tomorrow.
This one will run and run.
It started with a spam. The following began turning up in various people's inboxes:
Now, to save you the trouble, somebody actually took the time to track down these two geniuses, and roundly mock them in not one, but two articles.
The punchline? The Intellect of Tomorrow, who have so carefully covered their tracks and made it so very hard for any of us fakes to track them down, registered their domain under one of their real names.
Ladies, gentlemen and all those in between: I give you the future of humanity.
(Via the Barbelith Underground.)
This one will run and run.
It started with a spam. The following began turning up in various people's inboxes:
There is something extremely wrong with every single person in this world. They seem to be part of a pointless simulation. "The Matrix" has portrayed this idea somewhat, yet we watch it and go back to our daily lives. Yet in this very life, underneath the seeming diversity in people's opinions, values, talents, and interests, there is something that makes everyone the same. It is as though this planet is populated only by mindless fakes, objects that provide the appearance of intellect on the surface but are based on only mechanical reflexes and primitive thought patterns. I don't really care if anything I say has been said before, if it was portrayed in movies, in books, or in the lyrics of some useless song. With 6 billion people covering the globe at any given time, thousands and thousands of years of written literature, probability dictates almost any combination of words has occurred numerous times. Yet there is clear evidence there was no action, so those words, just like the people who spoke them, must have been just more fakes. I am forced to use this language (also created by the fakes) because there is no alternative, so everything I write here could be misunderstood to make me sound like one of them, but it will be the action that I take and the dedication that will separate me from them.
In my estimation the fakes that occupy this planet don't make up 99%, but more like 99.9999999% of the population. I know this because I've searched, and in my search have so far only found one true ally (I have found him via the internet as well). But even with those numbers we would not give up because there is no logic in giving up.
The people on this planet are all fakes because the societies have made them this way. Ideas that populate people's minds have no logic or purpose. Concepts such as religion, god, morality, individualism, freedom, identity, happiness, love and billions of others are all just memes. Like parasites they infect the minds and spread from one person to the next. They have no point or purpose; they exist without any logical basis or foundation. The fakes are completely controlled by them, and they will never see beyond them. To not be controlled by them one must do more then just realize that they exist. One must resist any ideas that have no point, endlessly question, and never accept imperfection or compromise in any answer. We (myself and my ally) are different though. While we have had the limitation of existing only in these societies, something has made it possible for us to resist being indoctrinated into becoming one of those fakes. We have no arbitrary wants, needs, desires, or preferences.
If this world continues to exist the way it is then nothing in it will ever have a point. It will always be just a product of random evolution, one with no importance or relevance. The only logical goal is to dedicate our lives to increasing our numbers, those that aren't fakes, so that in thousands of years our numbers may be such that the fakes would no longer be a threat to progress.
Those that join us must see every other person occupying this planet as the enemy, and us as their only allies. Like us they must have dedication only to taking the most logical action, and to nothing else.
To tell you more about us, we've posted some personal information about ourselves on a website. You'll also find past responses to us on that webpage. Obviously anyone reading this email is most likely just another fake. Do not simply reply to this email, if you do your message will almost certainly be ignored. If you do wish to communicate, first demonstrate your interest by taking the effort to find us online, one of the ways to do that is described below.
Use a major search engine to search for every combination of any two words from the list below. The order of the words shouldn't matter as long as you do not search for them in quotes. Also when you pick the right combination you shouldn't need to look at more then the first matches...
perfect
theory
endless
desire
eternal
logic
driving
perpetual
vision
logical
infinite
dream
final
best
escape
objective
thought
only
ambition
clue
perfection
If this can't be solved, or if you never reach us, there should be no reason for you to give up as we will never give up and thus there will always be some way to find us.
--------------
Ryan and Jacob
Now, to save you the trouble, somebody actually took the time to track down these two geniuses, and roundly mock them in not one, but two articles.
The punchline? The Intellect of Tomorrow, who have so carefully covered their tracks and made it so very hard for any of us fakes to track them down, registered their domain under one of their real names.
Ladies, gentlemen and all those in between: I give you the future of humanity.
(Via the Barbelith Underground.)
Yeesh.
Decided to bung a little tagboard in my sidebar yesterday. I wasn't really expecting anyone to use it but I never get tired of toys. About two minutes later I came back to find that somebody had left me death threats and a few choice obscenities, apparently motivated by the fact that I'm a HOMOSEXUAL (his caps, not mine). Which was news to me. However am I going to break it to my boyfriend?
Decided to bung a little tagboard in my sidebar yesterday. I wasn't really expecting anyone to use it but I never get tired of toys. About two minutes later I came back to find that somebody had left me death threats and a few choice obscenities, apparently motivated by the fact that I'm a HOMOSEXUAL (his caps, not mine). Which was news to me. However am I going to break it to my boyfriend?
Tuesday, July 02, 2002
Look-- Logos linked to my blog! Two of'em, in fact. If Logos can link to my blog, then why can't you? Too good for me, or something? Bunch of stuck-up, toffee-nosed, non-my-blog-linking snobby snobs. I'm going to sulk now.
Barbeblogs of the Faculty of the Invisible College
Barbeblogs of the Faculty of the Invisible College
Fun With Google
The latest dopey fad: typing "yourname is" into Google and then giggling over the results like a three-year-old on nitrous oxide. Thusly:
Mordant Is Iess.
mordant is a metal.
mordant is a sodium salt of humic acids, produced from lignite.
Mordant is in desperate need of.
mordant is required to dye linen.
Mordant is a kind of glaze.
'mordant' is based on an old French word meaning 'to bite'.
Mordant is a Newcastle-based label with six releases under its belt so far.
Mordant is dank, moody city, located in the chill northern reaches of the Syrinwald Swamp.
Mordant is a PowerPC 32 bit painting program.
From Barbelith, yet again.
The latest dopey fad: typing "yourname is" into Google and then giggling over the results like a three-year-old on nitrous oxide. Thusly:
Mordant Is Iess.
mordant is a metal.
mordant is a sodium salt of humic acids, produced from lignite.
Mordant is in desperate need of.
mordant is required to dye linen.
Mordant is a kind of glaze.
'mordant' is based on an old French word meaning 'to bite'.
Mordant is a Newcastle-based label with six releases under its belt so far.
Mordant is dank, moody city, located in the chill northern reaches of the Syrinwald Swamp.
Mordant is a PowerPC 32 bit painting program.
From Barbelith, yet again.
Top 40
troubled diva has a list of the Top 40 UK weblogs, by number of links. I'm not on it and it's ALL YOUR FAULT. I hate you.
troubled diva has a list of the Top 40 UK weblogs, by number of links. I'm not on it and it's ALL YOUR FAULT. I hate you.
"What part of non-profit do they not understand?"
Heads up, dog-oglers-- the .org registery is up for sale to the highest bidder! However, all is not lost-- yet. Check out the IMS and ISC's joint campaign to become the .org TLD operator and lend your support here: IMS Signals: .org is a public trust
(Found via the Barbelith Underground.)
Heads up, dog-oglers-- the .org registery is up for sale to the highest bidder! However, all is not lost-- yet. Check out the IMS and ISC's joint campaign to become the .org TLD operator and lend your support here: IMS Signals: .org is a public trust
(Found via the Barbelith Underground.)
Monday, July 01, 2002
"And Heven knows I'm miserable now..."
Sooo, no real updates for a while. Sorry, been busy writing other stuff so no hatey hate for yoooo-ooou!
Okay, I finally scored another day-job. It's a two-and-a-half week cleaning/light repairs gig, starting on Thursday. (The phone thing I started lastThirsday turned out to be one of those scams where they get you in to work for them and then don't pay you, something I sussed out only after I'd wasted an entire morning cold-calling people.) Today I had a half-day of cleaning work, sick cover in a bail hostel. Not quite as skanky as it sounds, but damn nearly. I've never been issued with a personal attack alarm at work before. Lovely.
I've pretty much finished one story I was working on, but I've got an idea which I think will flesh it out and make it much more rich. I like to hang on to my stories for a few weeks after they're done in any case, just so I can cast a fresh eye over them before they go out. Also I've made a start on a couple of sample atricles that I can punt out to the trade mags.
All-in-all, things are starting to look up a little. I'm still flat broke, but it's only for a couple more weeks and then I get paid.
Mmmmmm..... paiiiid....
Sooo, no real updates for a while. Sorry, been busy writing other stuff so no hatey hate for yoooo-ooou!
Okay, I finally scored another day-job. It's a two-and-a-half week cleaning/light repairs gig, starting on Thursday. (The phone thing I started lastThirsday turned out to be one of those scams where they get you in to work for them and then don't pay you, something I sussed out only after I'd wasted an entire morning cold-calling people.) Today I had a half-day of cleaning work, sick cover in a bail hostel. Not quite as skanky as it sounds, but damn nearly. I've never been issued with a personal attack alarm at work before. Lovely.
I've pretty much finished one story I was working on, but I've got an idea which I think will flesh it out and make it much more rich. I like to hang on to my stories for a few weeks after they're done in any case, just so I can cast a fresh eye over them before they go out. Also I've made a start on a couple of sample atricles that I can punt out to the trade mags.
All-in-all, things are starting to look up a little. I'm still flat broke, but it's only for a couple more weeks and then I get paid.
Mmmmmm..... paiiiid....
Sunday, June 30, 2002
Aegri Somnia
Which character from The King in Yellow are you?
(WTF is The King in Yellow, I hear you cry? In answer, I curl my lip at your egregious ignorance, and flick a link in your direction-- like a wealthy noblewoman tossing a single copper to the mute and filthy beggar who claws at her skirts.)
The King in Yellow
Which character from The King in Yellow are you?
(WTF is The King in Yellow, I hear you cry? In answer, I curl my lip at your egregious ignorance, and flick a link in your direction-- like a wealthy noblewoman tossing a single copper to the mute and filthy beggar who claws at her skirts.)
The King in Yellow
Saturday, June 29, 2002
Orisinal.com - Bauns
Look! It's like Puzzle Bobble! With a ball! On a bit of string! ROCK!
(From milkandcookies.com)
Look! It's like Puzzle Bobble! With a ball! On a bit of string! ROCK!
(From milkandcookies.com)
Afghanistan: Escalating Attacks on Aid Workers and Civilians (Human Rights Watch Press release, New York, June 27, 2002)
(New York, June 27, 2002) Factional rivalry in northern Afghanistan is leading to a rise in attacks on humanitarian aid workers and Afghan civilians, Human Rights Watch said in a new briefing paper released today. The growing insecurity threatens the continued delivery of humanitarian aid and resettlement assistance.... Read the article for more.
(New York, June 27, 2002) Factional rivalry in northern Afghanistan is leading to a rise in attacks on humanitarian aid workers and Afghan civilians, Human Rights Watch said in a new briefing paper released today. The growing insecurity threatens the continued delivery of humanitarian aid and resettlement assistance.... Read the article for more.
* t h e * t a n t r i c * p r i n c e s s *
One of those times where you know you shouldn't laugh, but...
One of those times where you know you shouldn't laugh, but...
TechnoSphere 4.01 Index
"TechnoSphere is a 3D model world inhabited by artificial lifeforms created by WWW users. There are thousands of creatures in the world all competing to survive. They eat, fight, mate and create offspring which evolve and adapt to their environment. When you make a creature it will email you to let you know what it has been getting up to in its world. Using the creature tools you can find out how your creature is surviving, what it is doing at any time, and where it is in the terrain.
Use the creature tools to make your own artificial lifeform for free and take part in this unique simulation. "
(Found here: "Why Are There So Many Carnivores in the Technosphere?")
"TechnoSphere is a 3D model world inhabited by artificial lifeforms created by WWW users. There are thousands of creatures in the world all competing to survive. They eat, fight, mate and create offspring which evolve and adapt to their environment. When you make a creature it will email you to let you know what it has been getting up to in its world. Using the creature tools you can find out how your creature is surviving, what it is doing at any time, and where it is in the terrain.
Use the creature tools to make your own artificial lifeform for free and take part in this unique simulation. "
(Found here: "Why Are There So Many Carnivores in the Technosphere?")
culture data repository 1.5
Interesting board, this. It's supposedly a forum for discussing Iain Bank's Culture books, but in practice they talk about all sorts. I'm gonna lurk it a bit. (Found via plasticbag.org
Interesting board, this. It's supposedly a forum for discussing Iain Bank's Culture books, but in practice they talk about all sorts. I'm gonna lurk it a bit. (Found via plasticbag.org
w00t!!!
Somebody linked to my board from their blog! ( Butterfly Farming)
Admittedly, she's led everyone to the Ninjas v Pirates thread, thus making me look like a giggling moron, but it's the thought that counts.
Somebody linked to my board from their blog! ( Butterfly Farming)
Admittedly, she's led everyone to the Ninjas v Pirates thread, thus making me look like a giggling moron, but it's the thought that counts.
myCFnow.com - Chimp Who Communicated With Sign Language Dies
I don't know why, but this makes me sad. Maybe I'm sad for the little character who knew 180 words of sign language and like to wear a red dress; maybe I'm sad for the chimp who never got to dig out termites with a stick, or do, y'know, chimp stuff. (And yeah, I do know what "chimp stuff" entails.)
Link from here: arthur b's livejournal
I don't know why, but this makes me sad. Maybe I'm sad for the little character who knew 180 words of sign language and like to wear a red dress; maybe I'm sad for the chimp who never got to dig out termites with a stick, or do, y'know, chimp stuff. (And yeah, I do know what "chimp stuff" entails.)
Link from here: arthur b's livejournal
Friday, June 28, 2002
Transsexuals win harassment suit against Toys "R" Us
(Daily news Friday, June 28, 2002... Advocate.com)
Three transfolk won their suit against a Brooklyn Toys R Us for harassment on Thursday. They were threatened, menaced with baseball bats and verbally abused. The jury upheld their case, but awarded them-- get this-- $1 each in compensation. $1! That's about, what, 70p, 75p?
Jesus. I mean, it's Toys R Us, for the love of Mike. Couldn't they at least spring for a Lego Technic?
(Daily news Friday, June 28, 2002... Advocate.com)
Three transfolk won their suit against a Brooklyn Toys R Us for harassment on Thursday. They were threatened, menaced with baseball bats and verbally abused. The jury upheld their case, but awarded them-- get this-- $1 each in compensation. $1! That's about, what, 70p, 75p?
Jesus. I mean, it's Toys R Us, for the love of Mike. Couldn't they at least spring for a Lego Technic?
OI!!!
Who's been biting MYYYY bandwidth then?
I can't help noticing that the piccy I've used for my sidebar has had 430+ views today. Now, I get about 10-20 visitors to this blog per day, so someone's been remote linking the image. Same thing goes for Jor-Dog.
Under different circumstances, I wouldn't mind (we've all done it at one time or another) but I use a free image hosting site which allows me 8 MB per day. The more views, the more bandwidth gets used up. Last time somebody remote-linked some of my work it got so that all my banwidth was burnt out the next day, so nobody could see any of the pix. I don't mind if people want to use images that I post here- they're not exactly blindingly original, let's face it. But I'd appreciate it if you'd save it to your hard-drive, and then upload it to your own server. If you don't have a server, you can use a free image hosting service-- I use villagephotos.com. It's a piece of cake to set up an account, and very user friendly.
Ta.
Who's been biting MYYYY bandwidth then?
I can't help noticing that the piccy I've used for my sidebar has had 430+ views today. Now, I get about 10-20 visitors to this blog per day, so someone's been remote linking the image. Same thing goes for Jor-Dog.
Under different circumstances, I wouldn't mind (we've all done it at one time or another) but I use a free image hosting site which allows me 8 MB per day. The more views, the more bandwidth gets used up. Last time somebody remote-linked some of my work it got so that all my banwidth was burnt out the next day, so nobody could see any of the pix. I don't mind if people want to use images that I post here- they're not exactly blindingly original, let's face it. But I'd appreciate it if you'd save it to your hard-drive, and then upload it to your own server. If you don't have a server, you can use a free image hosting service-- I use villagephotos.com. It's a piece of cake to set up an account, and very user friendly.
Ta.
Blode.
I meant to post this awhile back, but I sort of forgot or something.
Blode 4 - Food Feed Fury - Presented by Joel Veitch - rathergood.com
I meant to post this awhile back, but I sort of forgot or something.
Blode 4 - Food Feed Fury - Presented by Joel Veitch - rathergood.com
Let's WARCHALK!
Warchalking: The practice of chalking glyphs on walls and pavements to indicate that there's a wireless connection node in the area. I think it's a pretty nifty idea; others aren't so sure...
ZDNet |UK| - News - Story - Warchalking: London Wi-Fi guerrillas take tips from hobos
Warchalking: The practice of chalking glyphs on walls and pavements to indicate that there's a wireless connection node in the area. I think it's a pretty nifty idea; others aren't so sure...
ZDNet |UK| - News - Story - Warchalking: London Wi-Fi guerrillas take tips from hobos
Stupid? Evil? We have the answers!
From Time Cube: My wisdom is above genius. You are educated stupid and evil by stupid evil educators. Academic ban of Time Cube free speech debate rights is unconstitutinal, undemocratic and unadulterated tyrannical....
YOU are the lowest form.
YOU can't procreate alone.
YOU destroyed the village.
YOU destroyed the family.
YOU destroyed childhood.
YOU destroyed naturalism.
YOU don't know the Truth.
YOU pitiful mindless fools,
YOU are educated stupid.
YOU worship cubeless word.
YOU are your own poison.
YOU create your own hell.
YOU must seek Time Cube.
Oh, no. I'm all stupid and evil! Nevermind, I can educate myself now.
(Link found here, where there are many other edifying links: moof.org.uk)
From Time Cube: My wisdom is above genius. You are educated stupid and evil by stupid evil educators. Academic ban of Time Cube free speech debate rights is unconstitutinal, undemocratic and unadulterated tyrannical....
YOU are the lowest form.
YOU can't procreate alone.
YOU destroyed the village.
YOU destroyed the family.
YOU destroyed childhood.
YOU destroyed naturalism.
YOU don't know the Truth.
YOU pitiful mindless fools,
YOU are educated stupid.
YOU worship cubeless word.
YOU are your own poison.
YOU create your own hell.
YOU must seek Time Cube.
Oh, no. I'm all stupid and evil! Nevermind, I can educate myself now.
(Link found here, where there are many other edifying links: moof.org.uk)
Search referrals, continued.
Apparently someone was looking for this: http://google.yahoo.com/bin/query?p=i+want+a+picture+of+a+dog&hc=0&hs=0
Bless! That's so cute- like a letter to Father Christmas, almost. Look, little dog-picture person, here is the Google Image Search! And when you type the word "dog" into the little box, you get lots of lovely pictures of nice doggies!
Somewhat less cute was the latest corpse-pic hunter who had apparently waded through three pages of search results, and had never in all that time asked themselves what the "Image" button did. Nice going, doombrain.
Apparently someone was looking for this: http://google.yahoo.com/bin/query?p=i+want+a+picture+of+a+dog&hc=0&hs=0
Bless! That's so cute- like a letter to Father Christmas, almost. Look, little dog-picture person, here is the Google Image Search! And when you type the word "dog" into the little box, you get lots of lovely pictures of nice doggies!
Somewhat less cute was the latest corpse-pic hunter who had apparently waded through three pages of search results, and had never in all that time asked themselves what the "Image" button did. Nice going, doombrain.
Magnetic wood to finally force boring so-and-sos with cellphones to shut the hell up once in a while
From the New Scientist: Magnetic wood blocks mobile phone signals
Coming soon to a cinema near me, I devoutly HOPE and PRAY. I know they're convenient, I know some people need them for work or saftey or drug deals or whatever, but unless you're expecting waiting for a new kidney or something there are times when that hideous beepity-beeping gadget in your pocket ought to be turned OFF. You don't need it in a caff. You don't need it in the cinema. You don't need need it in the library and you definately don't need it in the bloody EXAM ROOM, you inconsiderate self-important egomanical PILLOCK.
From the New Scientist: Magnetic wood blocks mobile phone signals
Coming soon to a cinema near me, I devoutly HOPE and PRAY. I know they're convenient, I know some people need them for work or saftey or drug deals or whatever, but unless you're expecting waiting for a new kidney or something there are times when that hideous beepity-beeping gadget in your pocket ought to be turned OFF. You don't need it in a caff. You don't need it in the cinema. You don't need need it in the library and you definately don't need it in the bloody EXAM ROOM, you inconsiderate self-important egomanical PILLOCK.
Looks like this auction is over, having accrued about as many bids as it deserved: i.e., 0. Assuming that the seller was actully expecting to make some money out of this, I bet there's a lot of self-kicking going on. Half a million dollars? I think not. I'm hoping that this was merely a jape or funniment and the high price was there to deter people from wasting their dosh. I'd hate to think of how big a moron you'd have to be to assume that everyone interested in magick is a) stupid enough to fall for this and b) rich enough to afford it. (Yeah, we've all got sackfuls of money under our narrow, loveless beds, laid away against the day when some terrible relic comes up on fungeing e-bay.)
By popular demand
Owing to unprecidented reader interest, I would like to let everyone know that the photograph I linked to on Wednesday came from nicecupofteaandasitdown.com.
I can particularly recommend their biscuit review.
Owing to unprecidented reader interest, I would like to let everyone know that the photograph I linked to on Wednesday came from nicecupofteaandasitdown.com.
I can particularly recommend their biscuit review.
Thursday, June 27, 2002
Blog bloggity blog blog blog.
From here:
Dorothy has an extensive list of words to hate. She's pretty much right-on with most of them (what's wrong with 'disrobe'?) and so I'd like to add one more: blog. Blogging. Yes, I know there's a little button down there that links to Blogger.com, but really! Blog, yech, it sounds like something you'd find in a toilet. Blog. What's wrong with weblog? Or web site? Call this a web site. Please.
I actually sort of like the word "blog." It makes me think of walking along muddy paths in the woods, something I used to do a lot of in my rural, car-less youth. (And before you say it: no, my family did not sell the car to buy a set of matching ten-speed mountain bikes. My dad couldn't see well enough to drive and my mum never passed her test. I got around on shanks ponies or a decrepit lady's shopper. Er. That's a lady's shopping bike which was decrepit, not a bike for decrepit ladies.)
So, life. Still fraught. Still can't find a proper job. I started at the call centre today; I'm not looking forward to going back. Oh, well. It's only till Thursday, then I have a caretaking gig lined up. My co-ordinator was most impressed when I said I could do light repairs: apparently most of the females don't know one end of a screwdriver from the other. I had an interview for a part-time job in a pharmacy but I don't think I'll get that.
I can't belive how much energy I've had lately. I was up till three this morning writing my magick/environmental story, and I still had it in me to take a three-hour round trip on the tube and then walk around my area looking for "help wanted" notices. I'm tired, but somehow I can't stop.
From here:
Dorothy has an extensive list of words to hate. She's pretty much right-on with most of them (what's wrong with 'disrobe'?) and so I'd like to add one more: blog. Blogging. Yes, I know there's a little button down there that links to Blogger.com, but really! Blog, yech, it sounds like something you'd find in a toilet. Blog. What's wrong with weblog? Or web site? Call this a web site. Please.
I actually sort of like the word "blog." It makes me think of walking along muddy paths in the woods, something I used to do a lot of in my rural, car-less youth. (And before you say it: no, my family did not sell the car to buy a set of matching ten-speed mountain bikes. My dad couldn't see well enough to drive and my mum never passed her test. I got around on shanks ponies or a decrepit lady's shopper. Er. That's a lady's shopping bike which was decrepit, not a bike for decrepit ladies.)
So, life. Still fraught. Still can't find a proper job. I started at the call centre today; I'm not looking forward to going back. Oh, well. It's only till Thursday, then I have a caretaking gig lined up. My co-ordinator was most impressed when I said I could do light repairs: apparently most of the females don't know one end of a screwdriver from the other. I had an interview for a part-time job in a pharmacy but I don't think I'll get that.
I can't belive how much energy I've had lately. I was up till three this morning writing my magick/environmental story, and I still had it in me to take a three-hour round trip on the tube and then walk around my area looking for "help wanted" notices. I'm tired, but somehow I can't stop.
Oh, God. Another sick search referal: this time it was some human compost-heap looking for "Chiang+12+year+old+t1ts". 'Scuse the l33t-- I'm trying to avoid turning up on too many t1t searches coz the kind of person who searches for "t1ts" is likely to take huge horrible offense at the contents of this here blog. I can do without any more eejits sending me pr0n. (I should perhaps make it clear that I have no problem in principle with pr0n involving consenting adults.)
So, anyway. Sick fuck searches. Now, since this page has turned up on one such search it is reasonable to suppose that it will turn up on others, so I'll take the opportunity to address any k1ddy-pr0n consumers who may happen to stumble across it:
You are not out of the loop. You are not "only" a collector. What you are doing is not harmless.
You are playing a vital part in an industry that destroys lives.
That's all.
So, anyway. Sick fuck searches. Now, since this page has turned up on one such search it is reasonable to suppose that it will turn up on others, so I'll take the opportunity to address any k1ddy-pr0n consumers who may happen to stumble across it:
You are not out of the loop. You are not "only" a collector. What you are doing is not harmless.
You are playing a vital part in an industry that destroys lives.
That's all.
Wednesday, June 26, 2002
"Good morning, jobseekers!"
Remember that temp job? Well, now I've lost it again. I've been on a total job-hunting frenzy ever since, and I've managed to land something else for tomorrow morning. Bad new is, it's miles away and only part-time. If I can score even another four hours somewhere else I'd be okay, but so far nothing's come up.
I can't belive it. I'm registered with two agencies, I'm never off the job boards, I read the local rags, I'm always looking for "staff wanted" notices in shops and pubs, I post and email my CV to all and sundry, I've even started cold-calling, and what do I get? Four hours a day doing smegging market research, that's what. Jesus, this is so hard. I'm going to whip up a quick sigil tonight to help me along. I was thinking of making a servitor for this but I need something now, immediately, and my previous servitors have had zero time-sense.
This bites. I mean, this is really bad. I was counting on that poxy job to help me pay back all the damn money I owe. I still haven't told my par'dner, who's away on a conference at the mo; I don't know how to break the news.
AND I HATE JOB HUNTING!!!!
Remember that temp job? Well, now I've lost it again. I've been on a total job-hunting frenzy ever since, and I've managed to land something else for tomorrow morning. Bad new is, it's miles away and only part-time. If I can score even another four hours somewhere else I'd be okay, but so far nothing's come up.
I can't belive it. I'm registered with two agencies, I'm never off the job boards, I read the local rags, I'm always looking for "staff wanted" notices in shops and pubs, I post and email my CV to all and sundry, I've even started cold-calling, and what do I get? Four hours a day doing smegging market research, that's what. Jesus, this is so hard. I'm going to whip up a quick sigil tonight to help me along. I was thinking of making a servitor for this but I need something now, immediately, and my previous servitors have had zero time-sense.
This bites. I mean, this is really bad. I was counting on that poxy job to help me pay back all the damn money I owe. I still haven't told my par'dner, who's away on a conference at the mo; I don't know how to break the news.
AND I HATE JOB HUNTING!!!!
Look! I am a Bard!
A lovely lovely Bard! It's so great to be a Bard. Don't you wish you were a Bard too?
Take the "How Do You Use Magic?" test! Written by Brimo
A lovely lovely Bard! It's so great to be a Bard. Don't you wish you were a Bard too?
Take the "How Do You Use Magic?" test! Written by Brimo
The Nintendo Comickbook Generator
Make your own comic with this natty toy. The Atomic Temple Online
(I got this off Rage/Paradox's livejournal)
Make your own comic with this natty toy. The Atomic Temple Online
(I got this off Rage/Paradox's livejournal)
Tuesday, June 25, 2002
let us go then, you and i...
Quote:-- I'm all for seeking truth and wisdom, so I decided to stalk the guy. I tiptoed behind Jesus of Lakeview, tracing him through the dairy aisle and the frozen food section...
Somehow I think I'll be reading this one again.
Quote:-- I'm all for seeking truth and wisdom, so I decided to stalk the guy. I tiptoed behind Jesus of Lakeview, tracing him through the dairy aisle and the frozen food section...
Somehow I think I'll be reading this one again.
eBay item 886090622 (Ends 27-Jun-02 07:30:41 BST ) - Occult Collection
From ebay:
This collection of occult materials contains books, artifacts, antiques, relics, notes, inscriptions, bindings, entrapments, etc. This represents the collected works and objects of a very successful and extremely formidable practicing Magus and Demonologist. The collection of notes from the former owner’s unfinished work, including a book that seems to be some sort of Encyclopaedia Infernale, is quite interesting if not intimidating. All of the notes and bookmarks are still present. The collection is untouched, just as it was left/found. The black box (see photograph) is perhaps the most horrible. One can actually feel the energy (read: evil unrest) emanating from it. The black box is locked and chained shut and is bound in red cord said to bind the many malevolent spirits or demons within. In the black box there is said to be an urn containing a relic or object in which the soul of a powerful black magus is trapped (this is not the only spirit said to be trapped inside nor are they all said to be human or earthly). Also, a silver knife and animal hides with unrecognizable symbols written in black and red/brown (it could be blood, we don’t want to know) ink. It is known that two copies of a grimoire titled “The Red Dragon” are contained within this box as well as other rare books known through occult circles.
Makes the dear ol' haunted painting look quite innocent, doesn't it? *sigh*...
From ebay:
This collection of occult materials contains books, artifacts, antiques, relics, notes, inscriptions, bindings, entrapments, etc. This represents the collected works and objects of a very successful and extremely formidable practicing Magus and Demonologist. The collection of notes from the former owner’s unfinished work, including a book that seems to be some sort of Encyclopaedia Infernale, is quite interesting if not intimidating. All of the notes and bookmarks are still present. The collection is untouched, just as it was left/found. The black box (see photograph) is perhaps the most horrible. One can actually feel the energy (read: evil unrest) emanating from it. The black box is locked and chained shut and is bound in red cord said to bind the many malevolent spirits or demons within. In the black box there is said to be an urn containing a relic or object in which the soul of a powerful black magus is trapped (this is not the only spirit said to be trapped inside nor are they all said to be human or earthly). Also, a silver knife and animal hides with unrecognizable symbols written in black and red/brown (it could be blood, we don’t want to know) ink. It is known that two copies of a grimoire titled “The Red Dragon” are contained within this box as well as other rare books known through occult circles.
Makes the dear ol' haunted painting look quite innocent, doesn't it? *sigh*...
TJ Hooker Slash!
A HARD DAY AT ACADEMY PRECINCT
NB: If you don't know what "slash" means, you probably don't want to be reading this :lol:
A HARD DAY AT ACADEMY PRECINCT
NB: If you don't know what "slash" means, you probably don't want to be reading this :lol:
Don't you "Waldo" me, mush. Round here we call it...
Where's Wally?
(Hint: There's an audio clue after a mo, but it's a bit quiet. Also, you might not want to let your boss catch you playing this at work.)
Where's Wally?
(Hint: There's an audio clue after a mo, but it's a bit quiet. Also, you might not want to let your boss catch you playing this at work.)
Monday, June 24, 2002
New Stuff
Started my new temp job today. Not too bad (warehousey stuff for a record shop) The hours are good- nine to six, which means I'll be pulling down some much-needed extra cash. I owe money all over the place, and it's not going to get better any time soon.
On the plus side, my latest story is coming along. I should have it finished tomorrow or Wednesday. I really want to bung out some of my old stuff but I still can't persuade Wordperfect to reinstall, which means I can't read anything I wrote before the last huge hard-drive crash. The story files are there, 'coz I am the queen of backups, but I can't access the things without some tinkering. Damn and rghghghg. So, new stuff it is, lovely lovely new stuff.
Seriously, I haven't stopped writing in days. It's great.
Started my new temp job today. Not too bad (warehousey stuff for a record shop) The hours are good- nine to six, which means I'll be pulling down some much-needed extra cash. I owe money all over the place, and it's not going to get better any time soon.
On the plus side, my latest story is coming along. I should have it finished tomorrow or Wednesday. I really want to bung out some of my old stuff but I still can't persuade Wordperfect to reinstall, which means I can't read anything I wrote before the last huge hard-drive crash. The story files are there, 'coz I am the queen of backups, but I can't access the things without some tinkering. Damn and rghghghg. So, new stuff it is, lovely lovely new stuff.
Seriously, I haven't stopped writing in days. It's great.
Sunday, June 23, 2002
Can We Afford This Anymore?
I'm no Britney fan, but I find the amount of venom being directed at her in these posters (not the website itself, the posters) disturbing. I mean, for fuck's sake, people- she's just the latest pretty blonde chick in a long line of pretty blonde chicks to have her image slathered across our consciousness for the simple purpose of lining some bastard's pockets. Surely some of this vituperation should be sent in the direction of the baying pack of fetid, dung-breathed jackals who get their obscene paychecks and probably their jollies by hunting down the latest pretty blonde chick and milking her for all she's worth, before flinging her to a lower tier of jackaldom so she can be declared Over and have the piss ripped out of her for not being the lastest pretty blonde chick anymore. But that would take some thought, wouldn't it; it's easier to blame the face on the billboard than the people who put it there.
I'm no Britney fan, but I find the amount of venom being directed at her in these posters (not the website itself, the posters) disturbing. I mean, for fuck's sake, people- she's just the latest pretty blonde chick in a long line of pretty blonde chicks to have her image slathered across our consciousness for the simple purpose of lining some bastard's pockets. Surely some of this vituperation should be sent in the direction of the baying pack of fetid, dung-breathed jackals who get their obscene paychecks and probably their jollies by hunting down the latest pretty blonde chick and milking her for all she's worth, before flinging her to a lower tier of jackaldom so she can be declared Over and have the piss ripped out of her for not being the lastest pretty blonde chick anymore. But that would take some thought, wouldn't it; it's easier to blame the face on the billboard than the people who put it there.
World Cup Special
TV Go Home
I don't know, I was sort of getting used to having the supermarket to myself...
TV Go Home
I don't know, I was sort of getting used to having the supermarket to myself...
"Flash, I love you! But we only have 14 hours to save the Earth!"
The Flash Gordon Movie Site
(Quotes, stills, stuff like that.)
The Flash Gordon Movie Site
(Quotes, stills, stuff like that.)
Saturday, June 22, 2002
Two great tastes....
WRT search results, I recently became concerned about the number of folk who fetch up here while questing for either pictures of J0rdan's t1ts or pictures of dead dogs. How disappointed they must be, I thought, when they come here and find a site bereft of either. To remedy this state of affairs, I present my new masterpiece:
JOR-DOG! A picture of J0rdan- with dead dogs for t1ts!
(No t1ts were harmed in the making of this picture.)
WRT search results, I recently became concerned about the number of folk who fetch up here while questing for either pictures of J0rdan's t1ts or pictures of dead dogs. How disappointed they must be, I thought, when they come here and find a site bereft of either. To remedy this state of affairs, I present my new masterpiece:
JOR-DOG! A picture of J0rdan- with dead dogs for t1ts!
(No t1ts were harmed in the making of this picture.)
This has got to be my favourite search referral so far.
Yahoo! Search Results for how to make pencils levitate
Had another one like this the other day, funnily enough. Anyway, here ya go, Pencil Person. I can't promise that you'll be able to levitate anything, but this page has some good all-round exercizes: Playful Psychic.
Yahoo! Search Results for how to make pencils levitate
Had another one like this the other day, funnily enough. Anyway, here ya go, Pencil Person. I can't promise that you'll be able to levitate anything, but this page has some good all-round exercizes: Playful Psychic.
Am I right in thinking this is a horrible injustice?
Fom here: Torn From America
Manalastas is a 45-year-old Filipino immigrant who has been in a Kentucky jail since March 6, awaiting deportation... He is listed as an "absconder," which means he sits in jail without a chance to present his case before a judge, or even to post bail... He's lost his $11-an-hour job at a Kentucky beverage plant. His dream of patenting a pig-roasting oven he invented for the catering business he does on the side has faded. Neither his wife nor any of his daughters are allowed to work. Since his arrest, the family has had no income. They have been forced to raise money for legal fees by holding garage sales. They have turned to friends for groceries. Soon, the family will be forced to leave its rented home....
It gets worse. Read the article for more.
Fom here: Torn From America
Manalastas is a 45-year-old Filipino immigrant who has been in a Kentucky jail since March 6, awaiting deportation... He is listed as an "absconder," which means he sits in jail without a chance to present his case before a judge, or even to post bail... He's lost his $11-an-hour job at a Kentucky beverage plant. His dream of patenting a pig-roasting oven he invented for the catering business he does on the side has faded. Neither his wife nor any of his daughters are allowed to work. Since his arrest, the family has had no income. They have been forced to raise money for legal fees by holding garage sales. They have turned to friends for groceries. Soon, the family will be forced to leave its rented home....
It gets worse. Read the article for more.
Beefcaaaaaake!
I want a sword. For the last year and a half, I've been really into the idea of having a really big sword, a broadsword or something, and getting really good at using it- maybe as a sort of magickal keep-fit exercise.
I got back into an exercise regimen recently. I noticed that my thigh muscles were getting tired after walking any real distance, so I started doing squat thrusts. I've now got it so I'm doing about two dozen a day, which is fine exept the other day I noticed a couple of red stretch-marks. I already have some (relics of my accelerated puberty) but they're really old and had got to the silver-streak stage and didn't show so much. I haven't put on any weight, in fact I've lost a few pounds, so the marks can only be due to an increase in the size of the muscles.
I don't get it. In all other respects I have a typical high-oestragen physique: curvy, with little body or facial hair. But when I exercize my muscles bulk up faster than some men I know. I had to give up some upper-boddy stuff I was doing a few years ago because my neck ended up almost as thick as my head. It's insane.
I want a sword. For the last year and a half, I've been really into the idea of having a really big sword, a broadsword or something, and getting really good at using it- maybe as a sort of magickal keep-fit exercise.
I got back into an exercise regimen recently. I noticed that my thigh muscles were getting tired after walking any real distance, so I started doing squat thrusts. I've now got it so I'm doing about two dozen a day, which is fine exept the other day I noticed a couple of red stretch-marks. I already have some (relics of my accelerated puberty) but they're really old and had got to the silver-streak stage and didn't show so much. I haven't put on any weight, in fact I've lost a few pounds, so the marks can only be due to an increase in the size of the muscles.
I don't get it. In all other respects I have a typical high-oestragen physique: curvy, with little body or facial hair. But when I exercize my muscles bulk up faster than some men I know. I had to give up some upper-boddy stuff I was doing a few years ago because my neck ended up almost as thick as my head. It's insane.
Friday, June 21, 2002
Las Vegas SUN: Candidate Asks Opponent to Fight
Quoth Dave Thomas, Republican candidate: "We'll take this matter outside... mano a mano, buddy."
On telly. No, really.
Quoth Dave Thomas, Republican candidate: "We'll take this matter outside... mano a mano, buddy."
On telly. No, really.
Thursday, June 20, 2002
You're so vain, you prob'ly think this blog is about you
Y'know what's really wierd? With a few notable exeptions, most of the people who read this blog (apart from the strange dog-hunters) seem to be people who profess to dislike me; who claim to find me "boring", "annoying" or "loud-mouthed". I mean, I'll write something on here and nowhere else, and then a day or so later I'll get someone commenting on it (directly or indirectly). For example, I made some comment back in April about not posting something I'd written here in case my "Number One Fan" read it and threw a wobbly, and no less than six- six!- different people assumed I meant them and them alone. (The person I was actually referring to, meanwhile, cooled her jets and made an effort to square things. Go figure.) There's one or two people who even seem to read this thing every day.
I seriously fail to get it. I don't even read my freind's diaries as often as my detractors read mine. Why spend an appreciable amount of your time reading and re-reading something that's so "worthless" or "offensive"? Why not stick to IckleRainbowPoniesWithWings.com, or whatever? Why not come offline for five minutes and go for an icecream? Christ, anything, really. It's not that I don't want people to read this, I'm flattered and all, but... heck, haven't you people got lives?
PS: I hate you.
Y'know what's really wierd? With a few notable exeptions, most of the people who read this blog (apart from the strange dog-hunters) seem to be people who profess to dislike me; who claim to find me "boring", "annoying" or "loud-mouthed". I mean, I'll write something on here and nowhere else, and then a day or so later I'll get someone commenting on it (directly or indirectly). For example, I made some comment back in April about not posting something I'd written here in case my "Number One Fan" read it and threw a wobbly, and no less than six- six!- different people assumed I meant them and them alone. (The person I was actually referring to, meanwhile, cooled her jets and made an effort to square things. Go figure.) There's one or two people who even seem to read this thing every day.
I seriously fail to get it. I don't even read my freind's diaries as often as my detractors read mine. Why spend an appreciable amount of your time reading and re-reading something that's so "worthless" or "offensive"? Why not stick to IckleRainbowPoniesWithWings.com, or whatever? Why not come offline for five minutes and go for an icecream? Christ, anything, really. It's not that I don't want people to read this, I'm flattered and all, but... heck, haven't you people got lives?
PS: I hate you.
Tuesday, June 18, 2002
Reality Bites
B*gger. After the initial burst of activity that followed my decision to give Uni the heave-ho, I seem to have contracted galloping ennui. I have a huge student loan, a monstrous overdraft, and a credit card bill; I also owe the squeeze a ridiculous amount of money. Even if I got a job tomorrow, it's unlikely that I'd be earning enough to even start paying off all this c**p. It's looking increasingly likely that I'll end up back at the hinge factory or something, at least in the short term.
I want a job, so that I can have money. I don't want a job, so that I can look for a better job. I need... what do I need? I really need a miracle. My mage-fu seems weak lately tho'.
Get up. Get up. Getupgetupgetupgetup.
B*gger. After the initial burst of activity that followed my decision to give Uni the heave-ho, I seem to have contracted galloping ennui. I have a huge student loan, a monstrous overdraft, and a credit card bill; I also owe the squeeze a ridiculous amount of money. Even if I got a job tomorrow, it's unlikely that I'd be earning enough to even start paying off all this c**p. It's looking increasingly likely that I'll end up back at the hinge factory or something, at least in the short term.
I want a job, so that I can have money. I don't want a job, so that I can look for a better job. I need... what do I need? I really need a miracle. My mage-fu seems weak lately tho'.
Get up. Get up. Getupgetupgetupgetup.
Guardian Unlimited | The Guardian | We won't deny our consciences
What's really depressing is that I actually found this thru Wil Wheaton's weblog.
Bad subversive. Slap wristies. No pie for bad subversive who does not read Grauniad thoughroughly.
What's really depressing is that I actually found this thru Wil Wheaton's weblog.
Bad subversive. Slap wristies. No pie for bad subversive who does not read Grauniad thoughroughly.
Democratic Underground Forums - Ohio State fascism - What happened today
Fuck fuckity fuck fuck fuck. Is this for real?
Fuck fuckity fuck fuck fuck. Is this for real?
Monday, June 17, 2002
I have got to elevate my sights. Raise my game. Most importantly I have got to stop stressing over petty shit that other people come out with. It DOESN'T MATTER! It never did. I don't help myself by going on the attack; I don't help anyone else either. Let it go, unless there's some danger to others; then approach with intellect, not fury.
Things are changing, for me. I have to leave all this stuff behind. All the lies, all the badly-thought-out crap, all the kneejerk reactions. I have to accept that I'll be dealing with these things from now on, and learn not to care. Or to care only when I need to.
You know what you have to do.
You know what you have to do.
You know what you have to do.
Sunday, June 16, 2002
Saturday, June 15, 2002
Yet another pass-it-on perlitikerl thang.
This time it's about privacy and stuff. Lissen up, especially if you live in Europe.
So, there you have it. Can't be bothered to reformat? Nip across to plasticbag.org- there's a txt file of the whole thing availiable for download. (You should read plasticbag anyway, coz it's a bit good.) Either that, or:
1: Use the view source option (from the View menu on the toolbar, or rightclick on the page and select view source)
2: Scroll down untill you see this comment: "THIS IS THE BIT ABOUT YOUR PRIVACY COMING UNDER THREAT"
3: Copy the bit between that and "END OF BIT ABOUT YOUR PRIVACY COMING UNDER THREAT"
4: Save it as a txt file.
5: Paste it into your blog, website, email, or whatever.
Et viola.
This time it's about privacy and stuff. Lissen up, especially if you live in Europe.
Post Office To Steam Open Your History File [from stand.org.uk]
One of the more extreme powers the Regulation of Investigatory Powers Act (RIPA) handed out two years ago let government agencies obtain "traffic data" without a judicial warrant.
Traffic data is best described as the writing on the envelope of a message, instead of its contents. It can be the list of phone numbers you have called in the last six months. Or a full list of Websites you have visited. Or the times you log on, and from where. Or who you e-mail, or what programs you've downloaded, or what newsgroups you read. Or the position of your cellphone last Tuesday at five.
Because the risk of abuse of this power (there's no judicial oversight - all that's needed is the permission of a suitably high-powered boss), those who could wield it were strictly limited. Only the police, Customs and Excise and the secret services were allowed access to traffic data in the original act.
Not any more.
On Friday, the Home Office petitioned parliament to add a vast array of organisations to that list. If their passes, everyone from the DTI, any local authority, the Food Standards Agency, the Home Office themselves (of course), and staggeringly enough, Consignia. The final entry in the list says that "A Universal Service Provider within the meaning of the Postal Services Act 2000" has the same power as the secret services to read your traffic data. There's only one USP in Britain right now, and that's the provider previously known as the Royal Mail.
If the idea that the fricking Post Office has access to your web logs (access which would cost a competitive company millions, and would probably get them investigated by the Data Protection people), let alone every minor apparatchik on the block, you might want to kick up a fuss about this. It's due to appear before MPs on June 18th, and the Lords a little after.
How do I find out more?
Read the Order before Parliament. It's very short (although the list of allowed organisations is very long - two minutes should do it).
Flick through our quick notes on the original RIPA law. (The notes are based on an earlier draft, so the section numbers are a bit off. But you get the idea.)
What can I do?
Fax your MP now. The Order is to be debated next Tuesday, and these things are usually rubber-stamped. Tell your MP which groups you don't want to be spied on by (list them all), and tell him why. Explain what traffic data means (your MP might not now how wide-ranging it is). Explain it in terms he or she can understand - if they're a Conservative, explain how it's government prying into people's lives. If they're Labour, talk about civil rights. If they're Liberal, say what you like - the LibDems are usually down with this sort of nonsense. Ask for a reply.
It'll take twenty minutes of your time. It'll make a difference. Members of Parliament hate having this sort of wide-ranging power sneaked past them as much as you do. If you're feeling a bit lazy today, you could forward this message to one of your more overactive friends. And then write your letter tomorrow.
Experts
If you're a journalist, or want to write a detailed piece for others, you can contact Ian Brown (+44 7970 164526) at The Foundation for Information Policy Research (FIPR). As ever, they were the ones to spot this piece of nastiness first. And if you're feeling flush, for £25 you can join the Friends of FIPR which will get you advance alerts and a warm feeling about these issues.
So, there you have it. Can't be bothered to reformat? Nip across to plasticbag.org- there's a txt file of the whole thing availiable for download. (You should read plasticbag anyway, coz it's a bit good.) Either that, or:
1: Use the view source option (from the View menu on the toolbar, or rightclick on the page and select view source)
2: Scroll down untill you see this comment: "THIS IS THE BIT ABOUT YOUR PRIVACY COMING UNDER THREAT"
3: Copy the bit between that and "END OF BIT ABOUT YOUR PRIVACY COMING UNDER THREAT"
4: Save it as a txt file.
5: Paste it into your blog, website, email, or whatever.
Et viola.
Friday, June 14, 2002
Thursday, June 13, 2002
Warren Ellis fed my cat acid- and taught it to SING!!!
He did, y'know.
(Conceptripped off of inspired by fridgemagnet.)
He did, y'know.
(Concept
Fight.
You know what I hate (apart from you, that is)? People who start arguments deliberately for no reason. I'm not talking about someone with a favourite hobby-horse that they can't keep from jumping on, or a particular bee in their bonnet that they can't stop from buzzing- I'm talking about people who will just argue about anything, regardless of whether they actually espouse the position they are taking. People who think saying "I like Vic Reeves" is in some way controversial.
It's so pathetic. I seem to keep meeting them; individuals who feel it is incumbent upon them, should the world at large say "sh*te", to say "sugar". I participated in an online discussion some months back where this very subject was raised, and was informed by one of the participants that we should all "worship these guys [argument fetishists] as gods".
Why? Why is that so goddamn clever? Since when is being a windup merchant something to be proud of?
Oh yeah. I forgot! Until you came along everyone else was is this big bland glass of passivity and complacence, and we all need your arguey goodness so we can start fizzing. Otherwise we'd just trundle along with the rest of the Mindless Herd™, wouldn't we, the hearts nestled in our doughy little chests untroubled by any strong emotion, our minds unstretched by any question more demanding than whether to get the pink glitter nail-polish or the blue glitter nail-polish, whether to shovel down frozen pizza or the tinned macaroni cheese as we sit like the slack-jawed fools we all are in front of Robot Wars, one with the soft furnishings....
Well, actually, no we wouldn't. To quote Harlan Ellison (and yes, I know I am unfit to take his name in vain- don't get all narkey, think of it like Xtians quoting Jesus) I wake up angry and I go to bed angrier. Sometimes I'm so angry I feel like I'm going to go into meltdown just from watching a five-minute news bulleitin. Look at all those other supposedly stolid, cud-chewing doombrains that you think need winding up- HER husband is dying of asbestosis! HIS dad puts out cigarettes on his arm! SHE campagains for a radical political group! HE'S trying to raise money for his daughter's leukamia treatment! Where, in all of this, do they need you? Do you think they aren't angry?
I don't need your pathetic stirring to make me more angry, and neither does anyone else. You want to fight and squabble pointlessly over positions you don't even hold? Join a debating society. Or go and play Tekken. Do anything, but get over yourself.
You know what I hate (apart from you, that is)? People who start arguments deliberately for no reason. I'm not talking about someone with a favourite hobby-horse that they can't keep from jumping on, or a particular bee in their bonnet that they can't stop from buzzing- I'm talking about people who will just argue about anything, regardless of whether they actually espouse the position they are taking. People who think saying "I like Vic Reeves" is in some way controversial.
It's so pathetic. I seem to keep meeting them; individuals who feel it is incumbent upon them, should the world at large say "sh*te", to say "sugar". I participated in an online discussion some months back where this very subject was raised, and was informed by one of the participants that we should all "worship these guys [argument fetishists] as gods".
Why? Why is that so goddamn clever? Since when is being a windup merchant something to be proud of?
Oh yeah. I forgot! Until you came along everyone else was is this big bland glass of passivity and complacence, and we all need your arguey goodness so we can start fizzing. Otherwise we'd just trundle along with the rest of the Mindless Herd™, wouldn't we, the hearts nestled in our doughy little chests untroubled by any strong emotion, our minds unstretched by any question more demanding than whether to get the pink glitter nail-polish or the blue glitter nail-polish, whether to shovel down frozen pizza or the tinned macaroni cheese as we sit like the slack-jawed fools we all are in front of Robot Wars, one with the soft furnishings....
Well, actually, no we wouldn't. To quote Harlan Ellison (and yes, I know I am unfit to take his name in vain- don't get all narkey, think of it like Xtians quoting Jesus) I wake up angry and I go to bed angrier. Sometimes I'm so angry I feel like I'm going to go into meltdown just from watching a five-minute news bulleitin. Look at all those other supposedly stolid, cud-chewing doombrains that you think need winding up- HER husband is dying of asbestosis! HIS dad puts out cigarettes on his arm! SHE campagains for a radical political group! HE'S trying to raise money for his daughter's leukamia treatment! Where, in all of this, do they need you? Do you think they aren't angry?
I don't need your pathetic stirring to make me more angry, and neither does anyone else. You want to fight and squabble pointlessly over positions you don't even hold? Join a debating society. Or go and play Tekken. Do anything, but get over yourself.
Wednesday, June 12, 2002
The end of the beginning of the end?
Stayed up till stupid o'clock last night, watching The Godfather with my pard'ner, drinking various types of booze and eating halloumi. Which was nice.
Then today I went in to what should have been my final year project viva and fessed up about jacking in the course. They were actually pretty nice about it (once I managed to get a word in edgeways). All I have to do now is email my course leader and hand in the paperwork, then I'm free. FREE!!!
I had a quiet day today. I've put the detective yarn on the back burner coz I need to do some research for it, and started on a less demanding yarn about a computer game. All I need now is a temp job so I can start making a dent in my overdraft.
I suspect this might turn out to be one of the best decisions I've ever made.
Stayed up till stupid o'clock last night, watching The Godfather with my pard'ner, drinking various types of booze and eating halloumi. Which was nice.
Then today I went in to what should have been my final year project viva and fessed up about jacking in the course. They were actually pretty nice about it (once I managed to get a word in edgeways). All I have to do now is email my course leader and hand in the paperwork, then I'm free. FREE!!!
I had a quiet day today. I've put the detective yarn on the back burner coz I need to do some research for it, and started on a less demanding yarn about a computer game. All I need now is a temp job so I can start making a dent in my overdraft.
I suspect this might turn out to be one of the best decisions I've ever made.
Monday, June 10, 2002
The beginning of the end
Today I went into Uni, to check my in-tray and find out when the dean of students will be around next so I can tell him what my plans are and find out where I stand credit-wise. After the end of this week, I suppose I won't be going back. It's not like I'm graduating or anything.
Students were standing around in twos and threes, snapping photos and taking each other's phone numbers. I guess I should have felt some sort of regretful, nostalgic something-or-other, but all I feel is relieved. If I never have to set foot inside that converted fish-packing plant that masquerades as a campus again it will be too soon. Just the sight of that manky aluminium facade hoving into view between the trees is enough to fill me with a near-crippling sense of gloom. I've been pretty careful about what I say here, because there's a slim chance that somebody at Uni could find this blog and get shirty, but I'm pretty sick about some of the stuff that's gone on while I've been there.
My weekend was pretty productive, tho' I didn't get around to updating this sucker. I'm about a quarter of the way through my current story (a sort of detective/horror yarn), and I added a few links to The Exchange. I also read through a couple of webzines that I reckon I could persuade to accept some of my stuff. It's funny just how productive I've suddenly become since I made the decision to jack in my degree- sort of like being 17 again. Hope it lasts.
Today I went into Uni, to check my in-tray and find out when the dean of students will be around next so I can tell him what my plans are and find out where I stand credit-wise. After the end of this week, I suppose I won't be going back. It's not like I'm graduating or anything.
Students were standing around in twos and threes, snapping photos and taking each other's phone numbers. I guess I should have felt some sort of regretful, nostalgic something-or-other, but all I feel is relieved. If I never have to set foot inside that converted fish-packing plant that masquerades as a campus again it will be too soon. Just the sight of that manky aluminium facade hoving into view between the trees is enough to fill me with a near-crippling sense of gloom. I've been pretty careful about what I say here, because there's a slim chance that somebody at Uni could find this blog and get shirty, but I'm pretty sick about some of the stuff that's gone on while I've been there.
My weekend was pretty productive, tho' I didn't get around to updating this sucker. I'm about a quarter of the way through my current story (a sort of detective/horror yarn), and I added a few links to The Exchange. I also read through a couple of webzines that I reckon I could persuade to accept some of my stuff. It's funny just how productive I've suddenly become since I made the decision to jack in my degree- sort of like being 17 again. Hope it lasts.
Friday, June 07, 2002
The Exchange
I've started another blog, called The Exchange. It's my attempt to collate all my writing-related bookmarks into some kind of useful resource. There's not much there at the moment, but I'll be adding stuff to it on and off. You can find it here.
I've started another blog, called The Exchange. It's my attempt to collate all my writing-related bookmarks into some kind of useful resource. There's not much there at the moment, but I'll be adding stuff to it on and off. You can find it here.
w00t!!!
Oh wow oh wow oh wow. Just discovered this ace quiz tutorial. It's by Colleen Logan.
(Those of you who know me well can stop groaning and rolling your eyes. I promise not to make too many.)
Even better, one of my online mukkers posted this yesterday- feast your eyes on Fantod. I'm all over Gorey's stuff, me. I had this fantastic pop-up book when I was a kid called "The Dwindling Party", which was all about this family touring a huge stately home and getting picked off one by one by various monsters. It rocked.
Oh wow oh wow oh wow. Just discovered this ace quiz tutorial. It's by Colleen Logan.
(Those of you who know me well can stop groaning and rolling your eyes. I promise not to make too many.)
Even better, one of my online mukkers posted this yesterday- feast your eyes on Fantod. I'm all over Gorey's stuff, me. I had this fantastic pop-up book when I was a kid called "The Dwindling Party", which was all about this family touring a huge stately home and getting picked off one by one by various monsters. It rocked.
Thursday, June 06, 2002
Why are you DOING this?!
Gawd 'elp us, look at the state of you! You've surfed in here looking for pix of people with all their guts hanging out so you can see or whatever, and now you're going to sit and read through the archive, aren't you? You're actually going to sit and thumb thru six or seven pages of a total stranger's blog, just in case I've hidden a picture of a run-over dog or something in there. For the last time, there are no gruesome pix here! (Unless you count the colour-reversed detail from The Hands Resist Him adorning my sidebar.) Now, run along back to twitchingmammaries.com or whatever. And stop dropping crumbs on that keyboard!
Gawd 'elp us, look at the state of you! You've surfed in here looking for pix of people with all their guts hanging out so you can see or whatever, and now you're going to sit and read through the archive, aren't you? You're actually going to sit and thumb thru six or seven pages of a total stranger's blog, just in case I've hidden a picture of a run-over dog or something in there. For the last time, there are no gruesome pix here! (Unless you count the colour-reversed detail from The Hands Resist Him adorning my sidebar.) Now, run along back to twitchingmammaries.com or whatever. And stop dropping crumbs on that keyboard!
Wednesday, June 05, 2002
Okay, now this is seriously weird.
Awhile back, I agreed to participate in the Peer-to-Peer weblog review project. Months passed and I never heard anything more about it, so I assumed that I was rejected or just never contacted.
Then the other day, I did that lameoid thing of typing your name into Google to see what turns up. Amongst other things, I found this.
Now, take a look at entry number 13. That's my name, but this is definately not my blog. I don't know why it's under my name; perchance a coincidence, perchance a bit of a screwup, but I thank the mighty forces of sychronicity that brought it to my attention.
The journal is called "My Patch", and it's astounding. Go read. It is wondrous.
Awhile back, I agreed to participate in the Peer-to-Peer weblog review project. Months passed and I never heard anything more about it, so I assumed that I was rejected or just never contacted.
Then the other day, I did that lameoid thing of typing your name into Google to see what turns up. Amongst other things, I found this.
Now, take a look at entry number 13. That's my name, but this is definately not my blog. I don't know why it's under my name; perchance a coincidence, perchance a bit of a screwup, but I thank the mighty forces of sychronicity that brought it to my attention.
The journal is called "My Patch", and it's astounding. Go read. It is wondrous.
Bugger.
Got the verdict on my report today. Apparently it really was bullshit. Oh well.
Apart from the fact that I'm sorry to disappoint anyone, I'm having an increasingly hard time caring. What I was planning to do was make up the missing units over at the Uni's writing dept., but that's going to be a total pain- especially if my pard'ner (Brain to my Pinky) ends up in Barcalona or summat.
No, what I reckon I'll do is pick up whatever bit of paper my Uni is prepared to offer and sign up with the OU. It'll take longer and cost more, but frankly this has been on the cards all the way down the line. Us foundation-year yobbos never usually graduate at all; my getting this far is still one in the eye for a lot of people. I'm a bit miz, of course, but not gutted.
'Specially since I might get to go to Barca.
Got the verdict on my report today. Apparently it really was bullshit. Oh well.
Apart from the fact that I'm sorry to disappoint anyone, I'm having an increasingly hard time caring. What I was planning to do was make up the missing units over at the Uni's writing dept., but that's going to be a total pain- especially if my pard'ner (Brain to my Pinky) ends up in Barcalona or summat.
No, what I reckon I'll do is pick up whatever bit of paper my Uni is prepared to offer and sign up with the OU. It'll take longer and cost more, but frankly this has been on the cards all the way down the line. Us foundation-year yobbos never usually graduate at all; my getting this far is still one in the eye for a lot of people. I'm a bit miz, of course, but not gutted.
'Specially since I might get to go to Barca.
Tuesday, June 04, 2002
Pix
Another day, another dose of weirdness from my site stats. Since you've surfed on in on your wave of prurience and stupidity, i'll give you a little piece of advice:
Learn to use a search engine.
Now, most people at this point would start casting aspersions on the reader's intelligence. The word "moron" might be bandied around, as might the word "cretin". Phrases such as "manure-filled, brick-thick, impenetrable cranium" tend to creep into the conversation. I make no such accusations; for all I know you're an enormous genius who looks down on Mensa with the sort of indulgent, fond amusement usually reserved for a box of stupid yet entertaining puppies. Be that as it may, you're a genuis who can't use a search engine.
Most of you have come here looking for pictures, right? Mostly pictures of dead dogs or fallout victims, true, but that's entirely your concern. And most of you have used Google, yes? Good for you. Now, do you see the little tag on the Google search page, marked "image" ? You do? Good! Now, what do you suppose that does? That's right- it searches for images! Well done!
So now you know what to do, you can stop typing "photos" into the search engine, can't you? Let alone "pix". Yes, some of you actually type the word "pix" into a bloody search engine and expect to be rewarded with photographs.
I hate you.
Another day, another dose of weirdness from my site stats. Since you've surfed on in on your wave of prurience and stupidity, i'll give you a little piece of advice:
Learn to use a search engine.
Now, most people at this point would start casting aspersions on the reader's intelligence. The word "moron" might be bandied around, as might the word "cretin". Phrases such as "manure-filled, brick-thick, impenetrable cranium" tend to creep into the conversation. I make no such accusations; for all I know you're an enormous genius who looks down on Mensa with the sort of indulgent, fond amusement usually reserved for a box of stupid yet entertaining puppies. Be that as it may, you're a genuis who can't use a search engine.
Most of you have come here looking for pictures, right? Mostly pictures of dead dogs or fallout victims, true, but that's entirely your concern. And most of you have used Google, yes? Good for you. Now, do you see the little tag on the Google search page, marked "image" ? You do? Good! Now, what do you suppose that does? That's right- it searches for images! Well done!
So now you know what to do, you can stop typing "photos" into the search engine, can't you? Let alone "pix". Yes, some of you actually type the word "pix" into a bloody search engine and expect to be rewarded with photographs.
I hate you.
I actually sold my first story a couple of days ago. I'm well chuffed. Okay, it was only £20 from a webzine but it's a start; I've had stuff printed in loads of places (mostly crappy little photocopied fanzines that ran for 3 issues and were never seen again) but this is the first time anyone's actually offered me actual money for a story. I guess I just never took writing seriously enough before- it was always silly little Mordant's silly little hobby. Now I've decided to do this for a living things are coming together.
Monday, June 03, 2002
Oh, well.
Lessee: We gots footie, we gots jubilee. Two flavours of windbag, while the world creeps closer and closer to NUCLEAR WAR, and guess which one is on the front of the papers? That's right. And who chooses what goes on the front of the papers? People who are trying to sell papers to you lot.
Apparently some of you need your bloody priorities adjusting, so I'll explain this in a way you might be able to grasp: A NUCLEAR WAR DOES NOT STAY IN ONE PLACE AND IF YOU'RE DEAD YOU CAN'T WATCH THE FOOTIE OR WAVE AT THE UGLY WOMAN IN THE POSH FROCK OR GOOGLE FOR BOOBIES AND DEAD DOGS.
Get it? No, of course you bloody don't. You think you're all going to be sat on a hill somewhere, watching the fireworks from afar and laughing whilst eating a burger and groping a model, because you are Hard And Big And Clever and everyone else is part of the Sheeplike Flock of Common Humanity.
ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Lessee: We gots footie, we gots jubilee. Two flavours of windbag, while the world creeps closer and closer to NUCLEAR WAR, and guess which one is on the front of the papers? That's right. And who chooses what goes on the front of the papers? People who are trying to sell papers to you lot.
Apparently some of you need your bloody priorities adjusting, so I'll explain this in a way you might be able to grasp: A NUCLEAR WAR DOES NOT STAY IN ONE PLACE AND IF YOU'RE DEAD YOU CAN'T WATCH THE FOOTIE OR WAVE AT THE UGLY WOMAN IN THE POSH FROCK OR GOOGLE FOR BOOBIES AND DEAD DOGS.
Get it? No, of course you bloody don't. You think you're all going to be sat on a hill somewhere, watching the fireworks from afar and laughing whilst eating a burger and groping a model, because you are Hard And Big And Clever and everyone else is part of the Sheeplike Flock of Common Humanity.
ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Saturday, June 01, 2002
NO NUKES OVER KASHMIR!
Yes, I know you only came here in your endless quest for model's tits and bloody road traffic accident photos, but please take a mo to pass this on. Thanks.
Hello,
I'm really concerned about the situation in Kashmir. Please join
me in calling on the leaders of India and Pakistan to cool down.
The conflict is edging ever closer to a nuclear war. A nuclear
exchange between these rival nations could kill 12 million people
and spread radioactive fallout around the globe. Through
MoveOn.org, I'm calling on President Musharraf of Pakistan and
Prime Minister Vajpayee of India to step back from the brink of
holocaust.
You can join us and sign a message from concerned citizens of the
world at:
http://www.moveon.org/nonukesoverkashmir/
Both leaders are currently banging the drums of war. Recently,
Pakistan tested its third missile in as many days, emphasizing
its ability to deliver nukes to the large Indian city Delhi in
under three minutes. Prime Minister Vajpayee told the 700,000
troops stationed along the border of Pakistan that he was
preparing for "a decisive victory."
While India has stated that it will only use its nuclear bombs in
the case of an attack, Pakistan has made clear that it will
strike first if threatened. And there's reason to believe that
it will follow through on this policy: in 1999, such an attack
was narrowly averted, over the protest of then-General Musharraf.
More worrying still, India and Pakistan have broken many of their
diplomatic ties. Unlike the US and the USSR during the Cold War,
India and Pakistan have no direct line connecting the leadership
of each nation. The possibility exists that nukes could be
launched as a result of a mistake, since there's no easy way for
the leadership of one nation to verify the intentions of its
rival. With millions of lives in the balance and weapons on
hair-trigger alert, the lack of communication between the two
countries is just plain wrong.
If India and Pakistan were to go to war, the effects would be
felt around the world. The trade winds above the two countries
are ideally situated to spread nuclear fallout. Essentially
highly radioactive dust, fallout can cause leukemia and many
other kinds of cancer, as well as radiation poisoning.
Assuming either nation survived the attacks, it's unlikely that
the conflict would even be resolved. Instead of pushing their
countries toward Armageddon, Mr. Vajpayee and Mr. Musharraf must
re-establish strong diplomatic ties, disavow the use of nuclear
weapons under any circumstances, and work toward a comprehensive
agreement on the future of Kashmir.
Please let them know that you're concerned about the escalating
conflict today:
http://www.moveon.org/nonukesoverkashmir/
The lives of millions of Indians and Pakistanis could be at
stake.
Thanks.
(I didn't write that, BTW- I just got it in my inbox.)
Yes, I know you only came here in your endless quest for model's tits and bloody road traffic accident photos, but please take a mo to pass this on. Thanks.
Hello,
I'm really concerned about the situation in Kashmir. Please join
me in calling on the leaders of India and Pakistan to cool down.
The conflict is edging ever closer to a nuclear war. A nuclear
exchange between these rival nations could kill 12 million people
and spread radioactive fallout around the globe. Through
MoveOn.org, I'm calling on President Musharraf of Pakistan and
Prime Minister Vajpayee of India to step back from the brink of
holocaust.
You can join us and sign a message from concerned citizens of the
world at:
http://www.moveon.org/nonukesoverkashmir/
Both leaders are currently banging the drums of war. Recently,
Pakistan tested its third missile in as many days, emphasizing
its ability to deliver nukes to the large Indian city Delhi in
under three minutes. Prime Minister Vajpayee told the 700,000
troops stationed along the border of Pakistan that he was
preparing for "a decisive victory."
While India has stated that it will only use its nuclear bombs in
the case of an attack, Pakistan has made clear that it will
strike first if threatened. And there's reason to believe that
it will follow through on this policy: in 1999, such an attack
was narrowly averted, over the protest of then-General Musharraf.
More worrying still, India and Pakistan have broken many of their
diplomatic ties. Unlike the US and the USSR during the Cold War,
India and Pakistan have no direct line connecting the leadership
of each nation. The possibility exists that nukes could be
launched as a result of a mistake, since there's no easy way for
the leadership of one nation to verify the intentions of its
rival. With millions of lives in the balance and weapons on
hair-trigger alert, the lack of communication between the two
countries is just plain wrong.
If India and Pakistan were to go to war, the effects would be
felt around the world. The trade winds above the two countries
are ideally situated to spread nuclear fallout. Essentially
highly radioactive dust, fallout can cause leukemia and many
other kinds of cancer, as well as radiation poisoning.
Assuming either nation survived the attacks, it's unlikely that
the conflict would even be resolved. Instead of pushing their
countries toward Armageddon, Mr. Vajpayee and Mr. Musharraf must
re-establish strong diplomatic ties, disavow the use of nuclear
weapons under any circumstances, and work toward a comprehensive
agreement on the future of Kashmir.
Please let them know that you're concerned about the escalating
conflict today:
http://www.moveon.org/nonukesoverkashmir/
The lives of millions of Indians and Pakistanis could be at
stake.
Thanks.
(I didn't write that, BTW- I just got it in my inbox.)
A slightly less irritable gen-Xer writes
Okay, that last entry was pretty rabid even by my standards. To clarify: I really do think that giving me my own column is a jolly good idea. A column and money. I could do it, and I'd make your magazine look good, in a sullen and resentful kind of way. Permit me to whore out the last days of my latter youth for your readership's amusement. Go on.
Okay, that last entry was pretty rabid even by my standards. To clarify: I really do think that giving me my own column is a jolly good idea. A column and money. I could do it, and I'd make your magazine look good, in a sullen and resentful kind of way. Permit me to whore out the last days of my latter youth for your readership's amusement. Go on.
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