http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/pigeons
Enjoy my dear!! Someday that couple will be us, I just know it!!
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
'Tis the Season!!
Ah, the holiday shopping season. That time of year when, supposedly to honor Jesus Christ's birth (and yeah, let's not even bother getting into what an altogether truly offensive idea that is, mm-kay?), we fight and snarl amongst each other like ravening dogs fighting over meat scraps to spend money we don't have on things we don't need to buy each others' affections for another year.
To honor Christ we:
Lie to each other about why we need that particular toy.
Protect our cars from car thieves while we shop.
Brawl over crockpots while we snap up PS3's to re-auction for a healthy 700% markup to people who give their children money and toys in lieu of love.
Wait in line with fistsful of cash for PS3's, and soon we'll be packing heat when we do, thanks to inspiration from supportive goons like these.
In direct contravention to Scripture (Jeremiah, Chapter10, verses 1-5), we'll put up and decorate a Christmas tree.
To help us 'honor Christ', who threw the moneylenders out of his Father's temples, the credit card companies are 'helping' us pay for all our holiday shopping. Wasn't there some sort of old saying about history, and learning... something?
Whatever. Knock yerselves out. No, no, not whatever. It's about time I shared the other space in my tinfoil hat with you, Dear Reader. My TFH is not for 'shielding my brain from alien thought control', nor even from 'black ops government mind alteration'. No, it's for their master. Not the aliens, those are fake, just like pro wrestling. No, I'm speaking of the governments' master, Satan.
Me saying, 'Whatever.' is basically just turning a blind eye as Satan goes on about his business. Me not saying anything is spiritual cowardice. Me not standing up and numbering myself among the faithful is the same as when Peter thrice denied Christ. Time to grow a spine. I am a Christian. These things that people do in Christ's name do not please him, and they do not honor his Father, who made all. I am not ashamed of my faith, and I will not be silent.
There's a lot of yapping going on in the media about how a certain group has 'hijacked' a certain religion. Maybe it's time soneone started up some 'yapping' about a real religious hijacking. Christianity has been almost totally suborned by the worldwide cult of materialism headed by Satan. Almost.
Read God's Word the Bible daily. And the truth shall set you free.
To honor Christ we:
Lie to each other about why we need that particular toy.
Protect our cars from car thieves while we shop.
Brawl over crockpots while we snap up PS3's to re-auction for a healthy 700% markup to people who give their children money and toys in lieu of love.
Wait in line with fistsful of cash for PS3's, and soon we'll be packing heat when we do, thanks to inspiration from supportive goons like these.
In direct contravention to Scripture (Jeremiah, Chapter10, verses 1-5), we'll put up and decorate a Christmas tree.
To help us 'honor Christ', who threw the moneylenders out of his Father's temples, the credit card companies are 'helping' us pay for all our holiday shopping. Wasn't there some sort of old saying about history, and learning... something?
Me saying, 'Whatever.' is basically just turning a blind eye as Satan goes on about his business. Me not saying anything is spiritual cowardice. Me not standing up and numbering myself among the faithful is the same as when Peter thrice denied Christ. Time to grow a spine. I am a Christian. These things that people do in Christ's name do not please him, and they do not honor his Father, who made all. I am not ashamed of my faith, and I will not be silent.
There's a lot of yapping going on in the media about how a certain group has 'hijacked' a certain religion. Maybe it's time soneone started up some 'yapping' about a real religious hijacking. Christianity has been almost totally suborned by the worldwide cult of materialism headed by Satan. Almost.
Read God's Word the Bible daily. And the truth shall set you free.
Friday, November 24, 2006
Shooting Star
So, I've been working on this, and I think it's ok now. It's not the first end-of-the-world fic I've written, but it seems better than the previous one, so that's good.
Sometime in the Near Now?
Nafli bowed her head and wept silently as another bright line drew itself across the uncomfortably bright night sky. She was almost surprised that she still had tears left to shed. Then again, mourning was the new Thing To Do. Not much else held any meaning. Hope itself was being mourned by a people who had lost everything but hope previously. And, as always, there was no time for it. A shadow fell across her blurred vision. Mehti Sanjuraasvadi, her brother's wife's uncle, was hobbling toward her. She could see he was suffering from overexposure.
She still remembered the proud American president, the Democrat that the world had rejoiced America's choice of in 2008, standing with nervous hands, papers rattling in their trembling grasp, as he read from a prepared statement, made by the amazing NASA scientists. It had been fifteen years ago, almost to the day, but she, like everyone else who'd been a schoolchild that day, and all those who followed them, had learned it and memorized it. Even now, years after America was little but a memory and a few scattered people.
"Brothers and sisters of the human race, I come before you here in the United Nations to speak about something that threatens us all. I do not speak of terror used as a political tool, as my predecessor did. I speak of something far worse, something that cares not for our politics, our race, our differences of religion. Something that will kill us all without mercy, without remorse, and that we cannot ignore.
Scientists at NASA, and others whom they have consulted with around the globe, have proven conclusively that the sun's energy output is increasing, and that if it does not stop or reverse this trend soon, the entire earth will become uninhabitable, and we will all die. Their data is being delivered by couriers to institutes of higher learning around the globe as I speak, so you may verify our findings for yourselves. Our scientists' best estimate for total extermination of human life is thiry-seven years, assuming catastrophic die-outs and mass-migrations.
As of right now, I am issuing a moratorium to all auto manufacturers that forbids the production of any vehicle that cannot meet emission standards set by the Kyoto Treaty. Further, all American energy plants have been instructed to meets these emission standards in one month or shut down until they can. Martial law will be declared anywhere in the United States where civil or other unrest results from this. A new department of the EPA, the Emissions Control Board, has been given police powers, access to National Guard units, and full authority to enforce these standards.
Our entire industry is going to be re-directed to combatting this threat in a two-pronged attack. Firstly, our astronauts will be erecting and expanding a vast Mylar shield between the earth and the sun to reduce the amount of energy reaching earth. This shield will be neccessarily fragile, and therefore can only be considered a temporary solution. The second part of the plan is construction of an 'ark', of sorts, to carry an as-yet-undetermined number of selected colonists to Cygni 66, where the Hubble telescope has detected a moon that may well be habitable orbiting a gas giant there.
While I cannot tell you how many or who will be allowed to go, I can tell you for certain that anyone who interferes with either mission will be considered at war with us, and dealt with as expediently as possible. Since a 'nuclear winter' can only help us in the short-term, which appears to be all we have left, we will begin with nuclear weapons, and then throw in anything else we need to finish the job, should it become neccessary. That is the only warning this government shall issue in the matter.
God save us all."
Any thought of the president's words being a bluff evaporated two day later, along with Riyadh, Beijing, Tehran, Pyongyang, and Moscow. The Russian's missiles apparently had fallen into disrepair after so long without maintenance, and of the dozen China sent at America, only the one aimed at Denver, Colorado had gotten through the Americans suprisingly effective missile shield. The American counter-strike reduced China's population to a point where their oil consumption would never again be a thing to worry about. And the world realized that the Americans were not joking. The French carrier group in the Red Sea was vaporized a day later, and the French sabre stopped rattling entirely.
The world was a much darker place now, demographically speaking. It just wasn't a safe planet, in 2028, to be white on anymore, and it was getting worse. Even with petroleum usage at an all-time low, now that supplying it was so difficult and dangerous, the temperature just kept going up. Of course, now that the sun's output was so harsh, only the most deeply pigmented people could withstand it long in the former 'temperate' zones, and even in the sub-polar regions, it wasn't safe to go out with a thick coating of aloe extract.
Her nose wrinkled at the all-too familiar smell, as she brought it to mind. The plants were grown everywhere now, so critical they were to survival, even more important than food, and used as such after the aloe was extracted. Thin, bitter soup, flavored with anything and everything. Crops were grown under roofs now, with panels of anything that would stop the worst of the sun's rays protecting them from scorching death. She missed rice most of all, but it had gone nearly extinct as the conditions needed for it to grown in vanished from nature, and the hydroponically grown stuff was so expensive now that she'd have to work for a year to save the credits for one meal of it just for herself.
It wasn't resentment that made the world an unsafe place for whites, though to be sure there was plenty of that to be had, even though when all was said and done, their profligate waste of oil had ended up not mattering. It was their failure, their vulnerability, worse, the exposed lie of their invulnerability, that rankled. The American wizards of technology, inventors and doers, in all the movies, they saved the world.
Her family had sailed on a cargo vessel to Canada from Kol Kata, along with hundreds of others, to claim lands owned by the dead: dead and dessicated. That was, perhaps, the oddest thing about the whole surreal journey to Baffin Island. She had expected a reek of death when they reached America, but there was only a lingering pall of smoke. Occasionally a body would be found, caked to the bottom of a tub, in a bathroom littered with now dried and dead fungi, but even then, in the best possible conditions, hardly ever even a lingering scent. 'Just a faint mustiness', she remembered Nala telling her, the time her oldest sister had found a body once.
The vast cyclonic storms that earlier in the century had been called hurricanes, and had grown out of scope or imagining, had wrought devastation in waves upon the shores of every continent, and toppled skyscrapers hundreds of miles inland. But then, with the seas nearly choked to impassibility by a new strain of algae that was somehow resisting the sun's stronger rays, and worse, trapping the water beneath it, the moisture that drove those storms dissapeared. In the wake of the storms, deserts began to spread almost overday. Desert encroachments once measures in miles per year were now measured in miles per week. The entire ecosystem was collapsing.
She shook her head to clear her jumbled thoughts, and turned back to her duties. "Perhaps", the new 'American' president had said, "we can build another one in time." She examined Mehti's burns. They were bad enough, without being too bad. She nodded, and he shot her a grateful look, and hobbled to the entrance to the underground warren of hastily-dug rooms that sheltered the 750 people under her care. She frowned at his retreating back. They'd been slightly over subsistence until recently, able to contribute to the Great Plans the Americans had started. Now, with morale devastated, accidents, overexposures, and suicides had reduced them to below subsistence. She had mentioned this to her superiors, and inquired about any forthcoming assistance from Central. Their looks had said enough. Attrition would have to balance their ledgers.
Another line of fire crossed the sky from the terminator, ending almost halfway across the sky. This time, she murmured a short prayer from the Bhodisaatva, as she watched. She wondered from which group came this one. Had he been constructing the solar shield, or the colony/escape ship? Both had been destroyed by the huge flare that had so recently killed hope. Reports were that it had set much of Eurasia ablaze. Those were rather spotty now, as the flare had wiped out most of the satellites as well.
Sometime in the Near Now?
Nafli bowed her head and wept silently as another bright line drew itself across the uncomfortably bright night sky. She was almost surprised that she still had tears left to shed. Then again, mourning was the new Thing To Do. Not much else held any meaning. Hope itself was being mourned by a people who had lost everything but hope previously. And, as always, there was no time for it. A shadow fell across her blurred vision. Mehti Sanjuraasvadi, her brother's wife's uncle, was hobbling toward her. She could see he was suffering from overexposure.
She still remembered the proud American president, the Democrat that the world had rejoiced America's choice of in 2008, standing with nervous hands, papers rattling in their trembling grasp, as he read from a prepared statement, made by the amazing NASA scientists. It had been fifteen years ago, almost to the day, but she, like everyone else who'd been a schoolchild that day, and all those who followed them, had learned it and memorized it. Even now, years after America was little but a memory and a few scattered people.
"Brothers and sisters of the human race, I come before you here in the United Nations to speak about something that threatens us all. I do not speak of terror used as a political tool, as my predecessor did. I speak of something far worse, something that cares not for our politics, our race, our differences of religion. Something that will kill us all without mercy, without remorse, and that we cannot ignore.
Scientists at NASA, and others whom they have consulted with around the globe, have proven conclusively that the sun's energy output is increasing, and that if it does not stop or reverse this trend soon, the entire earth will become uninhabitable, and we will all die. Their data is being delivered by couriers to institutes of higher learning around the globe as I speak, so you may verify our findings for yourselves. Our scientists' best estimate for total extermination of human life is thiry-seven years, assuming catastrophic die-outs and mass-migrations.
As of right now, I am issuing a moratorium to all auto manufacturers that forbids the production of any vehicle that cannot meet emission standards set by the Kyoto Treaty. Further, all American energy plants have been instructed to meets these emission standards in one month or shut down until they can. Martial law will be declared anywhere in the United States where civil or other unrest results from this. A new department of the EPA, the Emissions Control Board, has been given police powers, access to National Guard units, and full authority to enforce these standards.
Our entire industry is going to be re-directed to combatting this threat in a two-pronged attack. Firstly, our astronauts will be erecting and expanding a vast Mylar shield between the earth and the sun to reduce the amount of energy reaching earth. This shield will be neccessarily fragile, and therefore can only be considered a temporary solution. The second part of the plan is construction of an 'ark', of sorts, to carry an as-yet-undetermined number of selected colonists to Cygni 66, where the Hubble telescope has detected a moon that may well be habitable orbiting a gas giant there.
While I cannot tell you how many or who will be allowed to go, I can tell you for certain that anyone who interferes with either mission will be considered at war with us, and dealt with as expediently as possible. Since a 'nuclear winter' can only help us in the short-term, which appears to be all we have left, we will begin with nuclear weapons, and then throw in anything else we need to finish the job, should it become neccessary. That is the only warning this government shall issue in the matter.
God save us all."
Any thought of the president's words being a bluff evaporated two day later, along with Riyadh, Beijing, Tehran, Pyongyang, and Moscow. The Russian's missiles apparently had fallen into disrepair after so long without maintenance, and of the dozen China sent at America, only the one aimed at Denver, Colorado had gotten through the Americans suprisingly effective missile shield. The American counter-strike reduced China's population to a point where their oil consumption would never again be a thing to worry about. And the world realized that the Americans were not joking. The French carrier group in the Red Sea was vaporized a day later, and the French sabre stopped rattling entirely.
The world was a much darker place now, demographically speaking. It just wasn't a safe planet, in 2028, to be white on anymore, and it was getting worse. Even with petroleum usage at an all-time low, now that supplying it was so difficult and dangerous, the temperature just kept going up. Of course, now that the sun's output was so harsh, only the most deeply pigmented people could withstand it long in the former 'temperate' zones, and even in the sub-polar regions, it wasn't safe to go out with a thick coating of aloe extract.
Her nose wrinkled at the all-too familiar smell, as she brought it to mind. The plants were grown everywhere now, so critical they were to survival, even more important than food, and used as such after the aloe was extracted. Thin, bitter soup, flavored with anything and everything. Crops were grown under roofs now, with panels of anything that would stop the worst of the sun's rays protecting them from scorching death. She missed rice most of all, but it had gone nearly extinct as the conditions needed for it to grown in vanished from nature, and the hydroponically grown stuff was so expensive now that she'd have to work for a year to save the credits for one meal of it just for herself.
It wasn't resentment that made the world an unsafe place for whites, though to be sure there was plenty of that to be had, even though when all was said and done, their profligate waste of oil had ended up not mattering. It was their failure, their vulnerability, worse, the exposed lie of their invulnerability, that rankled. The American wizards of technology, inventors and doers, in all the movies, they saved the world.
Her family had sailed on a cargo vessel to Canada from Kol Kata, along with hundreds of others, to claim lands owned by the dead: dead and dessicated. That was, perhaps, the oddest thing about the whole surreal journey to Baffin Island. She had expected a reek of death when they reached America, but there was only a lingering pall of smoke. Occasionally a body would be found, caked to the bottom of a tub, in a bathroom littered with now dried and dead fungi, but even then, in the best possible conditions, hardly ever even a lingering scent. 'Just a faint mustiness', she remembered Nala telling her, the time her oldest sister had found a body once.
The vast cyclonic storms that earlier in the century had been called hurricanes, and had grown out of scope or imagining, had wrought devastation in waves upon the shores of every continent, and toppled skyscrapers hundreds of miles inland. But then, with the seas nearly choked to impassibility by a new strain of algae that was somehow resisting the sun's stronger rays, and worse, trapping the water beneath it, the moisture that drove those storms dissapeared. In the wake of the storms, deserts began to spread almost overday. Desert encroachments once measures in miles per year were now measured in miles per week. The entire ecosystem was collapsing.
She shook her head to clear her jumbled thoughts, and turned back to her duties. "Perhaps", the new 'American' president had said, "we can build another one in time." She examined Mehti's burns. They were bad enough, without being too bad. She nodded, and he shot her a grateful look, and hobbled to the entrance to the underground warren of hastily-dug rooms that sheltered the 750 people under her care. She frowned at his retreating back. They'd been slightly over subsistence until recently, able to contribute to the Great Plans the Americans had started. Now, with morale devastated, accidents, overexposures, and suicides had reduced them to below subsistence. She had mentioned this to her superiors, and inquired about any forthcoming assistance from Central. Their looks had said enough. Attrition would have to balance their ledgers.
Another line of fire crossed the sky from the terminator, ending almost halfway across the sky. This time, she murmured a short prayer from the Bhodisaatva, as she watched. She wondered from which group came this one. Had he been constructing the solar shield, or the colony/escape ship? Both had been destroyed by the huge flare that had so recently killed hope. Reports were that it had set much of Eurasia ablaze. Those were rather spotty now, as the flare had wiped out most of the satellites as well.
Validation is so... validating.
Not sure if I ever mentioned him in my previous blog, but I used to know a sociopath named... let's call him Carey. We met ages ago, being friends to the same friends, who had each of us in their circle, though ours did not overlap at the time. Sort of a networking thing.
Carey seemed normal enough when we met. Most sociopaths don't wear t-shirts that say things like, 'Avoid Eye-Contact, I'm Mentally Unstable', or 'I'm Sociopathic, Avoid Frustraing Me'. See, the thing that makes sociopaths so dangerous is that, although they have no regard for other people beyond what those people can provide for them, they do know that those other people will turn on them if they don't 'play along' with concepts like 'civilization', 'common decency', and silly nonsense like 'love', trust', and 'compassion'. So when they're in a social setting where any of the useful humanoid toys (their highest possible assessment of anyone but themselves) are around, they tend to play along to avoid icky consequences.
Carey was, by the time I met him, a virtuoso at acting normal. Among useful humanoid toys, that is. Around anyone he merely found convenient, or more convenenient to play along with than use, he was completely different. I saw this side of him more often than most, as I was not a particularly useful humanoid toy to him. A humanoid toy to be sure, we hung out frequently, and played RPGs together a lot, but what he considered 'useful' humanoid toys were the people he would trade girlfriends (or wives) with from time to time.
Being at an all-time low in my own self-esteem, I paid little heed to the difference in his behavior in different circles. I kind of assumed that I deserved that sort of treatment. Apparently my complacency made me a useful humanoid toy for him in another regard entirely from his favorite useful humanoid toys. I was someone he could stop acting human around, and wear fully the beast within. He displayed his infeidelity to me, to brag about it I can only assume. Shocked (as I had a minor crush on his long-time girlfriend and short-time wife), I remained silent, trying to reconcile this bizarre behavior on my own. It was actually around then that I really began my long road to recovery. In trying to make sense out of a blossoming tragedy in my life, I was laying the foundation for recovering from an earlier, and far greater one.
Apparently pleased with his 'total dominion' over his boasting toy, Carey decided to turn another facet to bear, his unbridled cruelty. I bore witness to this once, and that finally snapped me out long enough to do something. I denounced him to our common friends, exposed his infidelity, and severed all contact (with the exception of one unfortunate resurgence that was apparently an attempt to re-establish dominion over me, he must've missed his boasting toy). While our common friends had finally seen past his mask a little themselves, and were able to come to grips with the reality that I shone a light on for them, his wife was not so fortunate. Last I heard, she'd gained an enormous amount of weight (something has to fill the hole in your heart when there's no love there). Sadly there's at least one child involved too.
There are times though, dear readers, when I have wondered if I did the right thing. Should I have tried to forgive and forget? Should I have let other people handle other people's business, and minded my own? But then, today, just barely an hour ago, the world patted me on the shoulder, gave me a quick hug, and told me that everything was going to be allright, and I did the right thing.
See, I stopped at McD's for lunch today, because I'd been busy doing laundry and playing WoW, and forgot entirely to eat something. And naturally, because I was running late and in a hurry, there was a pretty good-sized line of cars in front of me. We creeped forward, and the late-model sedan with out-of-state plates (same state as Carey used to live in, no less) arrived at the microphone. And a steady stream of 'Ummm', and 'Duhhhhh' proceeded to issues from the driver's mouth. And I fumed.
'It's the same fucking McDonald's menu as everywhere else on the fucking planet, and it's even in English. They do speak English in your state, don't they?', I thought, fuming. Finally, after an interminable wait, the ass-tard managed to finish his order, and pull around. "Large #3, no onions, Iced Tea, and a Fillet-o-Fish sandwich only.", was my curtly snapped order. I happen to know what I want off a list of options that hasn't changed significantly in 10 years, go fig.
So I pull up behind out-of-state mouth-breather and glare at him as we wait for the cars ahead of us. And I see he has those little round-like-circular-not-round-like-oval lenses in his glasses. Just like Carey. And I see he's a scrawny, near-shaved-headed white dude. Just like Carey. And that's when it hit me.
Total, absolute, utter, soul-fulfilling validation. The kind most only ever daydream about.
Talk about something to be thankful for.
Carey seemed normal enough when we met. Most sociopaths don't wear t-shirts that say things like, 'Avoid Eye-Contact, I'm Mentally Unstable', or 'I'm Sociopathic, Avoid Frustraing Me'. See, the thing that makes sociopaths so dangerous is that, although they have no regard for other people beyond what those people can provide for them, they do know that those other people will turn on them if they don't 'play along' with concepts like 'civilization', 'common decency', and silly nonsense like 'love', trust', and 'compassion'. So when they're in a social setting where any of the useful humanoid toys (their highest possible assessment of anyone but themselves) are around, they tend to play along to avoid icky consequences.
Carey was, by the time I met him, a virtuoso at acting normal. Among useful humanoid toys, that is. Around anyone he merely found convenient, or more convenenient to play along with than use, he was completely different. I saw this side of him more often than most, as I was not a particularly useful humanoid toy to him. A humanoid toy to be sure, we hung out frequently, and played RPGs together a lot, but what he considered 'useful' humanoid toys were the people he would trade girlfriends (or wives) with from time to time.
Being at an all-time low in my own self-esteem, I paid little heed to the difference in his behavior in different circles. I kind of assumed that I deserved that sort of treatment. Apparently my complacency made me a useful humanoid toy for him in another regard entirely from his favorite useful humanoid toys. I was someone he could stop acting human around, and wear fully the beast within. He displayed his infeidelity to me, to brag about it I can only assume. Shocked (as I had a minor crush on his long-time girlfriend and short-time wife), I remained silent, trying to reconcile this bizarre behavior on my own. It was actually around then that I really began my long road to recovery. In trying to make sense out of a blossoming tragedy in my life, I was laying the foundation for recovering from an earlier, and far greater one.
Apparently pleased with his 'total dominion' over his boasting toy, Carey decided to turn another facet to bear, his unbridled cruelty. I bore witness to this once, and that finally snapped me out long enough to do something. I denounced him to our common friends, exposed his infidelity, and severed all contact (with the exception of one unfortunate resurgence that was apparently an attempt to re-establish dominion over me, he must've missed his boasting toy). While our common friends had finally seen past his mask a little themselves, and were able to come to grips with the reality that I shone a light on for them, his wife was not so fortunate. Last I heard, she'd gained an enormous amount of weight (something has to fill the hole in your heart when there's no love there). Sadly there's at least one child involved too.
There are times though, dear readers, when I have wondered if I did the right thing. Should I have tried to forgive and forget? Should I have let other people handle other people's business, and minded my own? But then, today, just barely an hour ago, the world patted me on the shoulder, gave me a quick hug, and told me that everything was going to be allright, and I did the right thing.
See, I stopped at McD's for lunch today, because I'd been busy doing laundry and playing WoW, and forgot entirely to eat something. And naturally, because I was running late and in a hurry, there was a pretty good-sized line of cars in front of me. We creeped forward, and the late-model sedan with out-of-state plates (same state as Carey used to live in, no less) arrived at the microphone. And a steady stream of 'Ummm', and 'Duhhhhh' proceeded to issues from the driver's mouth. And I fumed.
'It's the same fucking McDonald's menu as everywhere else on the fucking planet, and it's even in English. They do speak English in your state, don't they?', I thought, fuming. Finally, after an interminable wait, the ass-tard managed to finish his order, and pull around. "Large #3, no onions, Iced Tea, and a Fillet-o-Fish sandwich only.", was my curtly snapped order. I happen to know what I want off a list of options that hasn't changed significantly in 10 years, go fig.
So I pull up behind out-of-state mouth-breather and glare at him as we wait for the cars ahead of us. And I see he has those little round-like-circular-not-round-like-oval lenses in his glasses. Just like Carey. And I see he's a scrawny, near-shaved-headed white dude. Just like Carey. And that's when it hit me.
Total, absolute, utter, soul-fulfilling validation. The kind most only ever daydream about.
Talk about something to be thankful for.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Why I have nothing but contempt for Michael Moore
Bowling for Columbine is a good start. Moore is already guilty of stealing an award from legitimate documentarists. I suppose his supporters' defense for this is that he 'did it for the right reasons'. I guess the ends justify the means in their book. Not in mine.
Mike, recant your award acceptance speech, return the award, give back the money, and publicly apologize to all the real documentarists you were unfairly grouped with at Cannes. While you're at it, a public apology to Charleton Heston, and the entire membership of the NRA would also be a nice gesture. No, Mike, I'm not a member. I merely possess basic literacy skills and am able to understand that the phrase: "Congress shall make no laws abridging the right to keep and bear arms' is pretty much in direct contravention to any and all gun-control statutes made by the federal government. The states can pass all the gun control they want, the feds have no jurisdiction over the matter.
So I am opposed to federal gun-control because it's frankly illegal. If the Founding Fathers were alive today, they'd be passing AK-47s around to their buddies and storming Capitol Hill to take back the country. Too bad we modern-day Americans are a bunch of fat lazy cowards that won't so much as twitch a whisker unless our own fat ass is directly threatened. The neighbors down the street are being carted off by the secret police? Screw 'em, 'Lost' is on, pass the popcorn and get me another beer.
In his first film, Roger & Me, in 1989, he actually had a legitimate point, the auto industry really did screw Flint, MI over. They flipped it and did it dry, in point of fact. But even then, even when he had a valid point to make, he was still a raging asshole. His attempts at getting interviews were calculated to fail, they were so belligerent. He wanted to be refused an interview so he could look at the camera and plaintively ask us: "What are they hiding?"
His tactics have only gotten less savory over the years, he's only become more of a thug since then. If you find yourself on the receiving end of an MM 'documentary', you can expect to be threatened, harassed, chased around, and basically hounded. You can also expect anything you do say to be spliced and edited until it says exactly what suits Moore's purposes. Refusing an interview with Moore is like looking both ways before you cross the street. It's a common sense basic safety procedure. If you discuss the local sports team with him on an elevator, don't be surprised if the microphone in his pocket records you saying things like, "Oh, he's great!", in response to questions that have nothing at all to do with your favorite quarterback or pitcher.
Michael Moore is a dishonest, greedy, manipulative, opportunistic piece of slime. He profits from lying to gullible people about other people that the first group doesn't like. He's personally profited to the tune of $21 million off the 9-11 attacks. Anyone who credits him with anything remotely positive is just enabling his victimization of them.
Michael Moore makes his living by lying to his fans in general, the Democratic Party in the USA in particular, and all liberals everywhere. For people who supposedly want to do away with various false things like stereotypes, racism (it's based on ignorance and lies), and the Republican Party (a cadre of liars and cheats if ever there was one), they swallow his swill hook, line, and stinker. I guess hearing what you want to believe is better than hearing anything accurate.
Mind you, I'm no fan of Dubya. I think the 'War in Iraq' should have been the 'War in' 'Iran', 'Saudi Arabia', or 'North Korea' if it were going to be anything at all. I think Dubya stole two elections, let 9-11 happen because he wanted a war, and lied about just about everything he's said since he learned to speak (About 9 years ago from the sound of things, I mean sweet Tom Cullen, what a retard!! M-O-O-N, that spells president, right Dickie?)
It's definitely right to criticize Dubya, it's definitely right to protest our presence in Iraq. But no matter what it is you are trying to accomplish, lying, cheating, and stealing is not the right way to go about it. Moore lies to his fans (movie-goers), cheats real documentarists out of awards, and steals the spotlight everywhere he goes to further aggrandize himself, for no apparent purpose other than to remain in the spotlight and sell more movie tickets.
Liberals of the world, wake up. This man is not, and never has been, your friend. He considers you nothing but cattle to feed on, and you dumbly stumble up the ramp into his gaping maw every time you buy a ticket to one of his schlockumentaries.
Conservatives of the world, wake up. Dubya is not now, nor has he ever been, your friend. He pays lip service to your concerns while he abuses his power to make himself and his wealthy friends wealthier at yours and my expenses.
Do the right thing in 2008, vote only for independent candidates. Let not one Republican nor one Democrat retain a place of power in this country. End their reigns of stupidity, greed and corruption forever.
Mike, recant your award acceptance speech, return the award, give back the money, and publicly apologize to all the real documentarists you were unfairly grouped with at Cannes. While you're at it, a public apology to Charleton Heston, and the entire membership of the NRA would also be a nice gesture. No, Mike, I'm not a member. I merely possess basic literacy skills and am able to understand that the phrase: "Congress shall make no laws abridging the right to keep and bear arms' is pretty much in direct contravention to any and all gun-control statutes made by the federal government. The states can pass all the gun control they want, the feds have no jurisdiction over the matter.
So I am opposed to federal gun-control because it's frankly illegal. If the Founding Fathers were alive today, they'd be passing AK-47s around to their buddies and storming Capitol Hill to take back the country. Too bad we modern-day Americans are a bunch of fat lazy cowards that won't so much as twitch a whisker unless our own fat ass is directly threatened. The neighbors down the street are being carted off by the secret police? Screw 'em, 'Lost' is on, pass the popcorn and get me another beer.
In his first film, Roger & Me, in 1989, he actually had a legitimate point, the auto industry really did screw Flint, MI over. They flipped it and did it dry, in point of fact. But even then, even when he had a valid point to make, he was still a raging asshole. His attempts at getting interviews were calculated to fail, they were so belligerent. He wanted to be refused an interview so he could look at the camera and plaintively ask us: "What are they hiding?"
His tactics have only gotten less savory over the years, he's only become more of a thug since then. If you find yourself on the receiving end of an MM 'documentary', you can expect to be threatened, harassed, chased around, and basically hounded. You can also expect anything you do say to be spliced and edited until it says exactly what suits Moore's purposes. Refusing an interview with Moore is like looking both ways before you cross the street. It's a common sense basic safety procedure. If you discuss the local sports team with him on an elevator, don't be surprised if the microphone in his pocket records you saying things like, "Oh, he's great!", in response to questions that have nothing at all to do with your favorite quarterback or pitcher.
Michael Moore is a dishonest, greedy, manipulative, opportunistic piece of slime. He profits from lying to gullible people about other people that the first group doesn't like. He's personally profited to the tune of $21 million off the 9-11 attacks. Anyone who credits him with anything remotely positive is just enabling his victimization of them.
Michael Moore makes his living by lying to his fans in general, the Democratic Party in the USA in particular, and all liberals everywhere. For people who supposedly want to do away with various false things like stereotypes, racism (it's based on ignorance and lies), and the Republican Party (a cadre of liars and cheats if ever there was one), they swallow his swill hook, line, and stinker. I guess hearing what you want to believe is better than hearing anything accurate.
Mind you, I'm no fan of Dubya. I think the 'War in Iraq' should have been the 'War in' 'Iran', 'Saudi Arabia', or 'North Korea' if it were going to be anything at all. I think Dubya stole two elections, let 9-11 happen because he wanted a war, and lied about just about everything he's said since he learned to speak (About 9 years ago from the sound of things, I mean sweet Tom Cullen, what a retard!! M-O-O-N, that spells president, right Dickie?)
It's definitely right to criticize Dubya, it's definitely right to protest our presence in Iraq. But no matter what it is you are trying to accomplish, lying, cheating, and stealing is not the right way to go about it. Moore lies to his fans (movie-goers), cheats real documentarists out of awards, and steals the spotlight everywhere he goes to further aggrandize himself, for no apparent purpose other than to remain in the spotlight and sell more movie tickets.
Liberals of the world, wake up. This man is not, and never has been, your friend. He considers you nothing but cattle to feed on, and you dumbly stumble up the ramp into his gaping maw every time you buy a ticket to one of his schlockumentaries.
Conservatives of the world, wake up. Dubya is not now, nor has he ever been, your friend. He pays lip service to your concerns while he abuses his power to make himself and his wealthy friends wealthier at yours and my expenses.
Do the right thing in 2008, vote only for independent candidates. Let not one Republican nor one Democrat retain a place of power in this country. End their reigns of stupidity, greed and corruption forever.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Vellarri of Sottli Ban was never much to look at. Few Sottles are. Pudgy, short, and biliously yellow in complexion, even their mothers only care as much for them as the impact they're likely to have on the family finances. His eyes became mine one chilly night in the early 1990s, and through them I looked out into something that, to me, was truly new under the sun.
Or, in this case, under the Eye of Moros. Those eyes beheld an entire world, sprung from the fertile imagination of a man I learned a great deal from, and from whom I continue to learn new things. He's spent much of the last decade trying to get me to learn analytical thinking, and that's gone well for the educational equivalent of passing a washing machine through the eye of a needle.
Some things about me are probably never going to change. Not without a woman to train them into or out of me at any rate. I'm pretty thoughtless most of the time, and I let it affect my friends and family, when really I only want it to affect me.
Not to whine overmuch or anything, but I've had some exceptionally rotten things happen to me in my life, starting from an early age, and continuing right up to present day. Some were inflicted by others, some just bad luck, many were wrought of my own stupidity. Too much thinking leads me to think of them, and then comes recriminations, and that way lies depression.
So I strive for thoughtlessness. For me, it's not just a virtue, it's a survival mechanism. But it has to stop affecting other people. So, that's kind of what this is all about. Me thinking of someone else. And it might as well be someone that's made the world a better place. And what better way to make this world a better place than by giving others the power to leave it for a while? With seven novels and an RPG to his credit, Houdini is put to shame by my friend and some-times mentor.
Happy Birthday Highlander!
Or, in this case, under the Eye of Moros. Those eyes beheld an entire world, sprung from the fertile imagination of a man I learned a great deal from, and from whom I continue to learn new things. He's spent much of the last decade trying to get me to learn analytical thinking, and that's gone well for the educational equivalent of passing a washing machine through the eye of a needle.
Some things about me are probably never going to change. Not without a woman to train them into or out of me at any rate. I'm pretty thoughtless most of the time, and I let it affect my friends and family, when really I only want it to affect me.
Not to whine overmuch or anything, but I've had some exceptionally rotten things happen to me in my life, starting from an early age, and continuing right up to present day. Some were inflicted by others, some just bad luck, many were wrought of my own stupidity. Too much thinking leads me to think of them, and then comes recriminations, and that way lies depression.
So I strive for thoughtlessness. For me, it's not just a virtue, it's a survival mechanism. But it has to stop affecting other people. So, that's kind of what this is all about. Me thinking of someone else. And it might as well be someone that's made the world a better place. And what better way to make this world a better place than by giving others the power to leave it for a while? With seven novels and an RPG to his credit, Houdini is put to shame by my friend and some-times mentor.
Happy Birthday Highlander!
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Curling
My favorite hand weights are made of cellulose...
Name...
1. One book that changed your life? The third printing (Brown cover with big doors) of the Advanced Dungeons and Dragons Dungeonmaster's Guide. It literally saved my life one night. I was riding home in the dark on my ten-speed in the summertime, and had it tucked up under my shirt to carry. I ran off the road into a steep ditch and landed chest-first onto a beaver-gnawed stump. The book turned the sharpened stake aside, and instead of dying there and being discovered who knows when, I lived on after that day. The moral? Role-playing games save lives.
2. One book you have read more than once? Two (five, actually) leapt to mind. Red Storm Rising, by Tom Clancy, a fictional account of a conventionally-waged WWIII, and the Tolkien tetralogy (Hobbit + LOTR trilogy). I have read and re-read both many times.
3. One book you would want on a desert island? There's actually two versions of this question, both of which I shall answer. The first assumes all basic needs are met, and the book is for entertainment purposes, the second version holds the book as a resource. For the first, my choice is... not nearly as easy as I'd hope. The second is an easy choice: The Boy Scout's Manual. If you find yourself on a tropical island with a copy of that book and you can't survive, you had best be at least a double-amputee as your excuse. The first though... It's tempting to just say The Bible. Let's face it, if you're gonna be stuck somewhere where there ain't no people at all, getting spiritual is definitely a way to go. But honestly, I've read the Bible through a few times, so maybe listening to what some of the opposition says would be in order. And hey, if it does suck, Atlas Shrugged can always do double-duty as toilet paper. But if I were going to take a religious book, it would not be Ayn Rand. Maybe the Hindu or Buddhist texts.
4. One book you wish you had written? "How I Became a Multi-billionaire with the Kind of Money that Warps Minds". What? Oh, fine, a real book... pfft, whatever. I guess I'd go with Christine. That would make me Stephen King, and therefore insanely wealthy.
5. One book you wish had never been written? I'm gonna go with the Qur'an. Yes, I know, a religion's book. Uh-huh, sure, fine, I'm a bigot. I can live with that.
6. One book you have been meaning to read, but just never have? The first book in the Wheel of Time series. I read one, and it was very confusing, but also rather entertaining. Had a lot to do with Bhelliom, which was either an old god, or an artifact related to said god, I dunno, s'been a while.
Name...
1. One book that changed your life? The third printing (Brown cover with big doors) of the Advanced Dungeons and Dragons Dungeonmaster's Guide. It literally saved my life one night. I was riding home in the dark on my ten-speed in the summertime, and had it tucked up under my shirt to carry. I ran off the road into a steep ditch and landed chest-first onto a beaver-gnawed stump. The book turned the sharpened stake aside, and instead of dying there and being discovered who knows when, I lived on after that day. The moral? Role-playing games save lives.
2. One book you have read more than once? Two (five, actually) leapt to mind. Red Storm Rising, by Tom Clancy, a fictional account of a conventionally-waged WWIII, and the Tolkien tetralogy (Hobbit + LOTR trilogy). I have read and re-read both many times.
3. One book you would want on a desert island? There's actually two versions of this question, both of which I shall answer. The first assumes all basic needs are met, and the book is for entertainment purposes, the second version holds the book as a resource. For the first, my choice is... not nearly as easy as I'd hope. The second is an easy choice: The Boy Scout's Manual. If you find yourself on a tropical island with a copy of that book and you can't survive, you had best be at least a double-amputee as your excuse. The first though... It's tempting to just say The Bible. Let's face it, if you're gonna be stuck somewhere where there ain't no people at all, getting spiritual is definitely a way to go. But honestly, I've read the Bible through a few times, so maybe listening to what some of the opposition says would be in order. And hey, if it does suck, Atlas Shrugged can always do double-duty as toilet paper. But if I were going to take a religious book, it would not be Ayn Rand. Maybe the Hindu or Buddhist texts.
4. One book you wish you had written? "How I Became a Multi-billionaire with the Kind of Money that Warps Minds". What? Oh, fine, a real book... pfft, whatever. I guess I'd go with Christine. That would make me Stephen King, and therefore insanely wealthy.
5. One book you wish had never been written? I'm gonna go with the Qur'an. Yes, I know, a religion's book. Uh-huh, sure, fine, I'm a bigot. I can live with that.
6. One book you have been meaning to read, but just never have? The first book in the Wheel of Time series. I read one, and it was very confusing, but also rather entertaining. Had a lot to do with Bhelliom, which was either an old god, or an artifact related to said god, I dunno, s'been a while.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Ok, this has to stop
"Opus P. Penguin said...
I don't think I had time to analyze my first sexual experience, as it was over so fast (not talking about you, Handsome, so don't pout)"
The above is, well, it's pretty obvious what it is. Another victim of inept, bumbling, feeble, male attempts at fornication. And they aren't hard to run into either. Google the subject and I'm sure you'll get plenty of hits.
And frankly, it's pissing me off.
Guys? How hard is it to pay attention during sex with a new partner? Women are all a great mystery, to be sure, but boys, it's worse than you were told or ever imagined. See, not only are women 'The Great Mystery', each and every one of them is a COMPETELY DIFFERENT MYSTERY too. Yeah, I know, it kinda sucks. "Riding a woman"* is NOT like riding a bicycle. Every single one of them has the 'controls' in a different spot, the 'mirrors' are always misaligned, the 'steering' handles differently, and the 'suspension' is always a discovery to be made.
And guess what? Even on the same woman, all of those 'things' can be 'repositioned' at any time, so it pays to pay attention when giving pleasure to a woman you are already intimately familiar with. Just because 'button one' played classic 'o' yesterday does not mean it hasn't been 'switched to another channel' today.
For us it's easy: see some boobies, play with 'em a little, move south, get yer 'thang' on, and roll over and go to sleep, preferably on the side opposite the wet spot. That'll work for any one of us, every time.
But women need more attention than that. Give it to them, or I'll find a way to...
...and that brings me to the other side of the equal sign.
Ladies? Would it kill you to speak English (or whatever other tongue you and your significant other have in common) when telling us: a) how you feel, b) what you want, c) what is wrong, d) what we can do to make you happier.
If we poor simple men ask you 'How are you today, love of my life?' and you reply 'Fine.' when inside you are seething, lost, or hurt, we will assume you are fine, since that's what you told us. We don't do code-speak. That's movie bullshit. If you tell us that nothing is wrong, you don't want anything in particular, or that what we're doing now is fine, then we're going to run with that.
Why?
Because we find you all to be a mystery, and if we get an answer to any one of those questions that indicates that what we are doing is either not displeasing you, or actually pleasing you, then we're going to high-five ourselves and make a note of whatever it was we were doing, and do it again later, because it got results, or so you told us. Lie to us, and we think we've found an important clue to solving the mystery that is you.
* Real quotes added because air quotes were too difficult to detect by my readers. Women are not transportation devices., nor any other sort of inanimate object. I had hoped that prevailing attitude would shine through, alas, I am a hack, and not a good writer.
It occurs to me that I should probably de-air quote everything, and put in actual quotes...
I don't think I had time to analyze my first sexual experience, as it was over so fast (not talking about you, Handsome, so don't pout)"
The above is, well, it's pretty obvious what it is. Another victim of inept, bumbling, feeble, male attempts at fornication. And they aren't hard to run into either. Google the subject and I'm sure you'll get plenty of hits.
And frankly, it's pissing me off.
Guys? How hard is it to pay attention during sex with a new partner? Women are all a great mystery, to be sure, but boys, it's worse than you were told or ever imagined. See, not only are women 'The Great Mystery', each and every one of them is a COMPETELY DIFFERENT MYSTERY too. Yeah, I know, it kinda sucks. "Riding a woman"* is NOT like riding a bicycle. Every single one of them has the 'controls' in a different spot, the 'mirrors' are always misaligned, the 'steering' handles differently, and the 'suspension' is always a discovery to be made.
And guess what? Even on the same woman, all of those 'things' can be 'repositioned' at any time, so it pays to pay attention when giving pleasure to a woman you are already intimately familiar with. Just because 'button one' played classic 'o' yesterday does not mean it hasn't been 'switched to another channel' today.
For us it's easy: see some boobies, play with 'em a little, move south, get yer 'thang' on, and roll over and go to sleep, preferably on the side opposite the wet spot. That'll work for any one of us, every time.
But women need more attention than that. Give it to them, or I'll find a way to...
...and that brings me to the other side of the equal sign.
Ladies? Would it kill you to speak English (or whatever other tongue you and your significant other have in common) when telling us: a) how you feel, b) what you want, c) what is wrong, d) what we can do to make you happier.
If we poor simple men ask you 'How are you today, love of my life?' and you reply 'Fine.' when inside you are seething, lost, or hurt, we will assume you are fine, since that's what you told us. We don't do code-speak. That's movie bullshit. If you tell us that nothing is wrong, you don't want anything in particular, or that what we're doing now is fine, then we're going to run with that.
Why?
Because we find you all to be a mystery, and if we get an answer to any one of those questions that indicates that what we are doing is either not displeasing you, or actually pleasing you, then we're going to high-five ourselves and make a note of whatever it was we were doing, and do it again later, because it got results, or so you told us. Lie to us, and we think we've found an important clue to solving the mystery that is you.
* Real quotes added because air quotes were too difficult to detect by my readers. Women are not transportation devices., nor any other sort of inanimate object. I had hoped that prevailing attitude would shine through, alas, I am a hack, and not a good writer.
It occurs to me that I should probably de-air quote everything, and put in actual quotes...
Give the Governor a Harumph!!
Election Day.
A prayer for Election Day:
God save us from capable people running for offices, but rather grant us incompetence and venality, for they are much to be preferred over cunning and tyranny. Please bring Your Kingdom most swiftly, for the governments of men, well, with all due respect, they suck out loud. Amen.
It would figure that I didn't get the word from Heinlen (via Handsome) soon enough to do some good. If you don't want to vote FOR someone, at least vote AGAINST someone.
Damn!!
I live in NY. Our competent and effective (shudder) State AG, Eliot Spitzer, is running for governor, because, well, he's competent and effective, and as governor he can do way more damage. He's endorsing a party half-wit to fill the post he's vacating, and Demonicrat party members the Clintons are tossing their 'good word' in that hat too. Meanwhile, the Moneygrublicans have a competent and effective (shudder) candidate applying for the job of State AG, and he will lose.
So, I guess, for once, the system worked? Kinda? Maybe we'll get lucky and Spitzer will be absolutely worthless as a governor. A guy can dream, can't he?
I did not update my voter registration for this election, and will not be voting. It was my version of protesting the general worthlessness of all the candidates in all the parties. So, I've missed my chance to vote against someone.
Best-case scenario in NY: we keep our governor, and get a new Dem SAG. Incompetence and venality FTW!!
A prayer for Election Day:
God save us from capable people running for offices, but rather grant us incompetence and venality, for they are much to be preferred over cunning and tyranny. Please bring Your Kingdom most swiftly, for the governments of men, well, with all due respect, they suck out loud. Amen.
It would figure that I didn't get the word from Heinlen (via Handsome) soon enough to do some good. If you don't want to vote FOR someone, at least vote AGAINST someone.
Damn!!
I live in NY. Our competent and effective (shudder) State AG, Eliot Spitzer, is running for governor, because, well, he's competent and effective, and as governor he can do way more damage. He's endorsing a party half-wit to fill the post he's vacating, and Demonicrat party members the Clintons are tossing their 'good word' in that hat too. Meanwhile, the Moneygrublicans have a competent and effective (shudder) candidate applying for the job of State AG, and he will lose.
So, I guess, for once, the system worked? Kinda? Maybe we'll get lucky and Spitzer will be absolutely worthless as a governor. A guy can dream, can't he?
I did not update my voter registration for this election, and will not be voting. It was my version of protesting the general worthlessness of all the candidates in all the parties. So, I've missed my chance to vote against someone.
Best-case scenario in NY: we keep our governor, and get a new Dem SAG. Incompetence and venality FTW!!
Friday, November 03, 2006
Welcome aboard
Well, invites went out to some people. I suppose, since the invites were late, since I've been so lazy lately, that they will now ignore them and speak meanly of me at a tea party they won't invite me to.
Shame, too. I love tea and buttered scones. Really.
Shame, too. I love tea and buttered scones. Really.
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