03 January 2011
Is Your Identity Safe When Those You Hire to Protect It Are The Ones Stealing It in the First Place?
Though under the guise of an "Antivirus" program, I think that Norton Internet Security Suite is the worst virus of them all. This program has repeatedly made my system crash (though it never crashed before) even during the most menial tasks. After recovering from these crashes, the program will not run, though it is stuck in the registry. After repeated attempts to remove the software (it is totally unresponsive) I had to restore my system back about a month, prior to installing it. But much to my lament, ITS STILL THERE! Of course it is even less responsive and still stuck in the registry (hmmmm a lot like a virus). Furthermore, it is blocking any alternative security programs from being activated. Get this piece of shit program off my system now. Do I really have to wipe my hard drive out to get this ill-conceived waste of memory out of my life? Yet another reason to hate Comcast, for allying with your poorly defined "security" software company.
16 November 2010
25 October 2010
Public Seizure of all Professional Sports Teams
Year after year, major cities across the United States spend millions on building new stadiums and arenas for their privately owned professional sports teams. Watching major league sport is one of this country’s favorite pastimes and should never be taken away from the everyman (and would most likely lead to public outcry). Though I believe that it is a total waste of money and time, it could certainly do with some reform. These huge shrines to the professional player are often paid for by public funds (that is, taxes from you and I, whether it be in property, income, or sales forms). However the payoff goes to the owners, managers, and players of the city’s team. That is why I am calling for a public seizure of these teams. This way, instead of directly into the pockets of the owners, these funds can be used to solve sociological problems at the local level.
As I am currently living in the Southeast, an excitable and often violent proving ground for American Football, I will use Atlanta as an example. In 1989, the city of Atlanta appropriated $214 Million dollars, through the Georgia General Assembly, to build the Georgia Dome, making it the largest publicly funded construction project in history at that time. In 1992, after the dome’s completion, the Atlanta Falcons moved in free of charge. In 2005, the Falcons spent $130 million to extend their quarterback, Michael Vick’s, contract for ten years. This exemplifies reinvestment in the company, but how much does the state of Georgia get? Nothing, except maybe a few PR related community outreach programs, which are really just promotional photo ops for the players. Meanwhile, Falcons CEO and Owner Arthur Blank, a man estimated to be worth over $1.3 billion, sits back and reaps the benefits. When the Falcons play in a sold out stadium, who makes the money. Not the principle investor, but the free-loading tenant. Furthermore, when U2 plays a sold out concert at the Georgia Dome, some third party concessionary (not to mention Prince Bono) reaps all of the benefits that Georgia taxpayers put fourth.
My call for public seizure of professional sports will revert that profit back to the principle investor, the state or city (and its taxpayers) that paid for the stadium or arena that the team plays in. These much needed funds could then be used to pay for various social welfare programs, parks, and general infrastructure for the city or state. It is unfair to expect us to invest in a company that we don’t see any gain from. Furthermore, these teams simply support the economy but have no direct role. There is only one publicly traded professional sports company in this country, the Green Bay Packers, and guess what, they’ve been owned by the city of Green Bay since the beginning. With the exception of owners, a few men of the elite, most other Americans would benefit from this program, allowing us to enjoy sport and a higher quality of life.
As I am currently living in the Southeast, an excitable and often violent proving ground for American Football, I will use Atlanta as an example. In 1989, the city of Atlanta appropriated $214 Million dollars, through the Georgia General Assembly, to build the Georgia Dome, making it the largest publicly funded construction project in history at that time. In 1992, after the dome’s completion, the Atlanta Falcons moved in free of charge. In 2005, the Falcons spent $130 million to extend their quarterback, Michael Vick’s, contract for ten years. This exemplifies reinvestment in the company, but how much does the state of Georgia get? Nothing, except maybe a few PR related community outreach programs, which are really just promotional photo ops for the players. Meanwhile, Falcons CEO and Owner Arthur Blank, a man estimated to be worth over $1.3 billion, sits back and reaps the benefits. When the Falcons play in a sold out stadium, who makes the money. Not the principle investor, but the free-loading tenant. Furthermore, when U2 plays a sold out concert at the Georgia Dome, some third party concessionary (not to mention Prince Bono) reaps all of the benefits that Georgia taxpayers put fourth.
My call for public seizure of professional sports will revert that profit back to the principle investor, the state or city (and its taxpayers) that paid for the stadium or arena that the team plays in. These much needed funds could then be used to pay for various social welfare programs, parks, and general infrastructure for the city or state. It is unfair to expect us to invest in a company that we don’t see any gain from. Furthermore, these teams simply support the economy but have no direct role. There is only one publicly traded professional sports company in this country, the Green Bay Packers, and guess what, they’ve been owned by the city of Green Bay since the beginning. With the exception of owners, a few men of the elite, most other Americans would benefit from this program, allowing us to enjoy sport and a higher quality of life.
23 October 2010
CRISIS AVERTED: SOCIAL SECURITY’S FINAL SOLUTION
Washington, DC (Onion) - Following a success in French pension reform, the United States Senate passed today an historic bill reforming the Social Security system in its own country. The bill, under the guise of a worsening economic crisis will deport all retirees over the age of seventy-five. The proposed new law will demonstrate that all such persons, dangerously approaching (if not exceeding) the established life-expectancy, have exhausted all of their potential use for the nation’s economy, and will therefore be deported and exiled to an undisclosed location. The bill calls for the use of half of the current Federal Social Security budget to be freed to be used to purchase the location, transport those who qualify, and set up interment camps to house the deportees for their remaining years. Thousands of Registered Nurses are also being recruited to tropical locations that are rumored to be potential hotspots of geriatric activity.
The bill calls for a massive privatization, or federal purchase, of current assisted living communities where the economically depraved are concentrated and demands that all those who are retired and over the age limit will be deported. The internment isles are set to be modeled off of contemporary facilities but in a tropical setting. A new, and voluntary, program of euthanasia will be set in place and heavily encouraged, especially to those who require specific medical attention.
This new wave of pension reform is said to take the pressure off of the federal government as a large sector of the population is on its way to retirement age and will therefore be totally useless to the future of this country. Senetors in support of this bill thank deeply the so called “baby-boomer” generation for their service and support of their nation throughout their lifetime and appreciate their cooperation and patriotism in this country’s time of need.
The bill will also appropriate funds from next years budget to set up a new government agency to enforce the prospective law. The Age Enforcement Agency (AEA) will work closely with the Social Security Administration and the Department of Defense to make sure that the change goes over smoothly. A new Presidential cabinet post is expected somewhere the beginning of the next fiscal year.
The final clause in the bill will be rolled out by the year 2020, and will make living within the continental United States illegal for those who exceed the age of seventy-five, punishable by deportation and possibly “voluntary” assisted suicide.
The bill calls for a massive privatization, or federal purchase, of current assisted living communities where the economically depraved are concentrated and demands that all those who are retired and over the age limit will be deported. The internment isles are set to be modeled off of contemporary facilities but in a tropical setting. A new, and voluntary, program of euthanasia will be set in place and heavily encouraged, especially to those who require specific medical attention.
This new wave of pension reform is said to take the pressure off of the federal government as a large sector of the population is on its way to retirement age and will therefore be totally useless to the future of this country. Senetors in support of this bill thank deeply the so called “baby-boomer” generation for their service and support of their nation throughout their lifetime and appreciate their cooperation and patriotism in this country’s time of need.
The bill will also appropriate funds from next years budget to set up a new government agency to enforce the prospective law. The Age Enforcement Agency (AEA) will work closely with the Social Security Administration and the Department of Defense to make sure that the change goes over smoothly. A new Presidential cabinet post is expected somewhere the beginning of the next fiscal year.
The final clause in the bill will be rolled out by the year 2020, and will make living within the continental United States illegal for those who exceed the age of seventy-five, punishable by deportation and possibly “voluntary” assisted suicide.
14 July 2009
UPDATE: Twitter is Hateful
I am now being followed by Hate Need! How in the fuck they found me, and feel that I also have a need for hate is beyond me...I guess I'll have to see if I can find the Ku Klux Klan and see if I can't follow them as well. It's all part of the research of course. Maybe this is the appeal, it is another outlet to be somebody on the Internet that you aren't in reality. Susan is about to become a skinhead in a fake world of status updates...by the way I am currently taking a bath and I have my hair in a Mohawk influenced by the shampoo in it.
11 July 2009
The Yosemite Files: Volume One
Just what in the fuck is wildlife management? Besides being an oxymoron, this practice is an attempt for human beings to once again harness the awesome power of our natural world, beat it a few times in the head, and then piss all over it in an attempt to make it better. Wildlife management is a big topic here in Yosemite Valley, especially concerning the American Black Bear (make no mistake: it's not Mexican or Canadian).
Thanks to gross habituation of these large beasts through years of the tourist feeding, photographing, and I assume, fucking of these wonderful animals, they are now deemed out of control. So how do we solve the problem? More human intervention of course! Tens of bears are killed by Park Rangers every year because of the property damage they cause (yeah, that's fair, hold them to a penal code and an American ideal that they couldn't possibly comprehend). Those that haven't caused trouble yet are chased out of human infested areas in an attempt to "save" them (a lot like Christian Missionaries tried to "save" heathen Hereros in Africa).
I think that we just have to accept this as a byproduct of our own collective mismanagement in the first place, you know, like global warming. So, in fear of having our cars broken into (because of improper food storage) we pay people with federal funds, to go around shooting these bears with beanbags and maceballs because they are following the evolutionary path and foraging for the most abundant and easily available food source.
There isn't much management on the squirrel front, but these little fuckers are the most annoying of all. No matter how much you stomp your feet at them they just keep coming back. I like to ask people not to feed them not because I care if they become dependant on human food, or fat like many of the people I see waddling around here, but because I don't want a squirrel in my shadow wherever I go. These little shits are relentless. I had one try to take a drag off my cigarette the other day. I told him I would gladly bum him one, but I don't want his bubonic lips on my square.
In summation, wildlife is either no longer wild (thus the necessity of it's management) or we need to solve this problem at it's source: No more people, no more problem. If we close the park to visitors, the animals here will have no choice but to figure out how to find food from the land, or die. And that my friends is natural selection.
Thanks to gross habituation of these large beasts through years of the tourist feeding, photographing, and I assume, fucking of these wonderful animals, they are now deemed out of control. So how do we solve the problem? More human intervention of course! Tens of bears are killed by Park Rangers every year because of the property damage they cause (yeah, that's fair, hold them to a penal code and an American ideal that they couldn't possibly comprehend). Those that haven't caused trouble yet are chased out of human infested areas in an attempt to "save" them (a lot like Christian Missionaries tried to "save" heathen Hereros in Africa).
I think that we just have to accept this as a byproduct of our own collective mismanagement in the first place, you know, like global warming. So, in fear of having our cars broken into (because of improper food storage) we pay people with federal funds, to go around shooting these bears with beanbags and maceballs because they are following the evolutionary path and foraging for the most abundant and easily available food source.
There isn't much management on the squirrel front, but these little fuckers are the most annoying of all. No matter how much you stomp your feet at them they just keep coming back. I like to ask people not to feed them not because I care if they become dependant on human food, or fat like many of the people I see waddling around here, but because I don't want a squirrel in my shadow wherever I go. These little shits are relentless. I had one try to take a drag off my cigarette the other day. I told him I would gladly bum him one, but I don't want his bubonic lips on my square.
In summation, wildlife is either no longer wild (thus the necessity of it's management) or we need to solve this problem at it's source: No more people, no more problem. If we close the park to visitors, the animals here will have no choice but to figure out how to find food from the land, or die. And that my friends is natural selection.
UPDATE: Still Nothing
My Twitter Homepage is full of nothing. I consider SPAM nothing. All it is is a bunch of advertisements trying to get me to download nothing songs from nowhere men. So I guess I have found a small semblance of something...Twitter is yet another advertising platform designed to get you in your private life, down home and all up in your biznass. Result: Twitter is something in the vein of a billboard on the roadside of life.
26 June 2009
UPDATE: Twitter is Nothing
Nobody cares what you are doing right now. I thought it was bad in Middle/High School when people used AOL Instant Messenger as a social platform to talk to people that you would never face in real life. I mean "sexual" relationships were started, carried out, and ended all using this "social" utility. Then along came texting for people who were too lazy to pick up the phone and make a thirty second phone call and instead let their thumbs to the talking, thus dragging such as conversation over a period of hours. OK, I will admit it comes in handy sometimes when you are in a situation that you can't talk, but wait until after class for fucks sake. As the Internet slowly takes over our lives, Facebook comes into play, combining instant messaging with a social management tool that makes people feel important because they have over three hundred friends who are people that they would never talk to in real life. I boycotted it for as long as I could, but alas, I am a member with limited use.
Maybe I'm just hating on the next new thing, but in the age that the Internet can be carried around in your pocket with you, it's just getting to be too much. Twitter is really nothing. The people that care about what you are doing right now will call you to find out (or god forbid, text you), not check the fucking Internet. I don't want people following me, I'm already paranoid enough, and I certainly don't want some fucking Internet nerd to know that I'm taking a shower. Conjoined with reality television, why don't we all just wear webcams on our heads all the time so that our friends can experience first hand exactly what we're doing?
Anyway, after I post this, I will be going deep undercover and become a Twitter member, just to get the real scoop on this ridiculous craze. Wish me luck and look for me you fucking tweets!
Maybe I'm just hating on the next new thing, but in the age that the Internet can be carried around in your pocket with you, it's just getting to be too much. Twitter is really nothing. The people that care about what you are doing right now will call you to find out (or god forbid, text you), not check the fucking Internet. I don't want people following me, I'm already paranoid enough, and I certainly don't want some fucking Internet nerd to know that I'm taking a shower. Conjoined with reality television, why don't we all just wear webcams on our heads all the time so that our friends can experience first hand exactly what we're doing?
Anyway, after I post this, I will be going deep undercover and become a Twitter member, just to get the real scoop on this ridiculous craze. Wish me luck and look for me you fucking tweets!
24 June 2009
Twitter is Nothing
As far as I can tell, Twitter is absolutely nothing. Is it a stripped down Facebook that is reduced to nothing but the iLike application? Does it achieve anything other than people's desperate attempt to have their name somewhere else on the Internet? Is Twitter anything? I like the Vanessa Carlton song "1,000 Miles," but I don't necessarily want everyone in the known universe (or at least those planetary systems with decent wireless reception) to connect me as a fan, shit, I don't even want my close friends to know that. This will mark my attempt to delve into this concept and research as closely as possible as I can (the Internet is a fifteen-minute bike ride or thirty minute bus ride away) while holding to the above post title as my hypothesis. If you think that Twitter might be something, or even something else, please feel free to respond to this post because after all, Twitter might not be nothing at all.
02 May 2009
Inner Monologue
I don't think there are any thoughts in my head. [Yeah, I can see the fallic nature of that statement (that's why its funny). What is the adjective for fallacy anyway?]. Supposedly I'm part of the most intelligent group of sentient beings on this planet but I can't even prove it because I can't even track the thoughts running around in my head. Does anyone else have this problem? Ah, who am I kidding, no one is reading this now. Its all part of the trillions of words that will never be read by anyone spanning around the world and across this web.
Anyway, I think I may have pinpointed the problem: My Inner Monologue.
I have a tendency to talk to myself in my head, which makes it pretty hard to let thousands of processes per second go on. I talk to myself in my own head, in drawn out sentences. I think that's where most of my writing comes from too. I have a tendency to come up with a catch phrase that I really like and either start from there or work it into a work in progress some how. Sometimes it works, most times it doesn't.
To make things worse, music, my number one favorite medium and human invention, is a huge distraction. I went for a walk today and besides the birds chirping, the only music I heard on the whole trip was a passing half-second drifting to my ear from the gas station. The line: "...we've got a solution now." I knew I had heard it somewhere before and I drove me crazy the rest of the walk trying to figure out where it was from. I'm pretty sure I narrowed it down to some britpop band; like Blur or Supergrass or something, but who can be sure (until I hear it again, proving that that stupid little line will remain planted firmly somewhere in the back of my brain for up to the next seventy years). So while this stupid song lived upon the top of my frontal lobe, I was unable to have any other semblances of thought.
Am I supposed to find myself up there in the brain? It's proving to be quite difficult to find myself amongst the other eight billion people on this planet, much less among the 350 million in this country alone. If you see me, let me know, I sure would like to meet that guy and find out just what the hell it is he is doing these days. Thanks for being here to reflect upon.
Anyway, I think I may have pinpointed the problem: My Inner Monologue.
I have a tendency to talk to myself in my head, which makes it pretty hard to let thousands of processes per second go on. I talk to myself in my own head, in drawn out sentences. I think that's where most of my writing comes from too. I have a tendency to come up with a catch phrase that I really like and either start from there or work it into a work in progress some how. Sometimes it works, most times it doesn't.
To make things worse, music, my number one favorite medium and human invention, is a huge distraction. I went for a walk today and besides the birds chirping, the only music I heard on the whole trip was a passing half-second drifting to my ear from the gas station. The line: "...we've got a solution now." I knew I had heard it somewhere before and I drove me crazy the rest of the walk trying to figure out where it was from. I'm pretty sure I narrowed it down to some britpop band; like Blur or Supergrass or something, but who can be sure (until I hear it again, proving that that stupid little line will remain planted firmly somewhere in the back of my brain for up to the next seventy years). So while this stupid song lived upon the top of my frontal lobe, I was unable to have any other semblances of thought.
Am I supposed to find myself up there in the brain? It's proving to be quite difficult to find myself amongst the other eight billion people on this planet, much less among the 350 million in this country alone. If you see me, let me know, I sure would like to meet that guy and find out just what the hell it is he is doing these days. Thanks for being here to reflect upon.
04 April 2009
The Zealot
The Zealot is God’s mailman. He delivers the word no matter the weather, but safety is paramount. He never wears his white robes in the snow and keeps his arms circled in reflective tape while a cycler’s red flashing beacon persists upon his hips. He has no need for an iPod as hip-hop hymns play in his head and he dances to a mental beat. He brandishes his beard with pride, having never shaved since the day he met the lord face to face. Perfect pearly whites are the only things that shine behind the grayed fall of facial hair, and they’re always smiling. Locks of granite hair drip from his brimless churchat bringing the casual observer eye to eye with black rimmed spectacles. His eyes are vacant and see the world only for what it is: a godless and forsaken society that he will be free from come death, and he would like nothing more than to take a few of us down with him (casually of course). He is a sheppard with no sheep.
He shakes his Jesus born cross at the passing traffic and smiles, for he knows. Drivers toot their horns in recognition as he waves them on by. Maybe these people rethink their lives, particularly after they pass the A&W bible quote marquee. Most take it for the spectacle it is and laugh to themselves, only building the hilarity as they approach the Interstate. The Zealot does not see these ones, he is only there for the joy he himself experiences, running a marathon in dance on the side of any street.
Some say he was hit by lightning or dosed himself silly on LSD, but nobody stops to ask unless it be the butt of some inside joke. I don’t stop to ask, I just smile to myself, knowing he is he and I am me and we can be what we want to be.
He shakes his Jesus born cross at the passing traffic and smiles, for he knows. Drivers toot their horns in recognition as he waves them on by. Maybe these people rethink their lives, particularly after they pass the A&W bible quote marquee. Most take it for the spectacle it is and laugh to themselves, only building the hilarity as they approach the Interstate. The Zealot does not see these ones, he is only there for the joy he himself experiences, running a marathon in dance on the side of any street.
Some say he was hit by lightning or dosed himself silly on LSD, but nobody stops to ask unless it be the butt of some inside joke. I don’t stop to ask, I just smile to myself, knowing he is he and I am me and we can be what we want to be.
08 January 2009
Bill Counter Found Skimming Off the Top
Brooklyn, NY (IP) – After years of service with the Galandi crime family, SpeedCounter 2100 was found to have been intentionally miscounting the money it was given only to keep a few bills for itself, amounting to up to three hundred per job. The counter was found out after a recent tribute to the don of the New Jersey DiBartolomeo family came out short. The amount was supposed to total two million, but with a single bill missing from each stack of hundreds the Galandi counter stood to make $100,000 on the job. The DiBartolomeo family counter, SpeedCounter 2105, could not be reached for comment, nor could the Ziabatsu Corporation, manufacturer of the SpeedCounter series.
In order to send a message to all electronic bill counters, particularly others under employment with the family, the Galandi’s have been said to have tortured SpeedCounter 2100 before destroying it. Starting with non-essential circuits, the Galandi musclemen worked on it for hours with a soldering iron and a pair of wire cutters. Screams were reported coming from the basement of the Galandi mansion. SpeedCounter 2100 was then found dumped in the East River with a single bullet in its central processing unit.
When asked to comment, New York City Chief of Police Walter McGuiness said, “This is truly a tragedy, but as of yet, legislators have still not passed laws outlawing destruction and torture of electronic devices, now if only they had stolen it…”
No word yet as to the Galandi family purchasing a new counting machine, and they very well may be counting by hand for months to come. The hired thugs killed following the DiBartolomeo’s discovery of the error and shortage, however, were replaced directly after the shooting.
18 October 2008
Gimmie some mo'
Whether you like it or not readers, as humans, we are beings of pleasure. Perhaps it is something we have been working towards over the past 10,000 years, or maybe we have always been (not for me to decipher). Are our big fucking brains for something elese, maybe the pleasure is just keeping us complacent, do we embrace it or reject it? Perhaps our focus on pleasure is completely socially based.
I would love the opportunity to see counter examples, but as far as I can see, everything we do is based on some present or future pleasure (that is, beyond the basic rules of survival). Why do we Work?
Yeah, to eat, drink, provide clothing and shelter (thanks nature). But it is really beyond that. What is success but this idea that you can sometime in the future access all the dopomine your brain can handle. Make some money this year so that some day you can buy your mini-mansion on the hill. Maybe after that you can fly to Bali and do nothing but sit back and enjoy life (though from the outside perspective, I have seen plenty of vacationers that are doing the exact opposite).
As a working College student I have seen the short term effects of dopomine use. Make enough money so that you can buy that bag/bottle/camera/television/album/movie/ticket/trip/experience/whatevermakesyouhappy. Make enough money that you can go out to the bar to find that sexual experience/relationship/comraderie/experience you are looking for. And really what is a relationship with another person (sexual or otherwise), but a long term chemical dependancy?
Tangent: Isn't it funny that those "squares" out there refer to most drugs as dope? Is that perhaps a word that has its root in the word dopamine, the chemical in our brains that triggers pleasure centers. Are foods, wines, human contact, drugs (illicit or not), fresh air, cold water, sports, urination, television, music, visual art, and other worldly powers (yeah, I'm talking to you Jesus/Mohammad/Moses/Buddha/Krishna/Confucious/etc) nothing but "drugs" meant to enhance the human experience? "Dope" if you will?
If these are just distractions meant to pass the time from life to life, than what the hell are we living for? Is that really all there is, this seventy year (plus) dopamine trip, passing the time from generation to generation? Pleasure beings dominating a planet in some sick Bacchus experiment. Just how much can a carbon-based being tolerate. If this is the direction that we are taking, I don't want to live in the world beyond this one.
Can you imagine a race of peoples that do nothing but sit around having thier over-sized brains trickled by the French tickler of their own design? Maybe this overstimulation is exactly what we need, a built up tolerance by the overuse of what may be distracting us from the purpose of humanity. If dopomine is evolution, than I quit (yeah right, junkies never really quit).
I would love the opportunity to see counter examples, but as far as I can see, everything we do is based on some present or future pleasure (that is, beyond the basic rules of survival). Why do we Work?
Yeah, to eat, drink, provide clothing and shelter (thanks nature). But it is really beyond that. What is success but this idea that you can sometime in the future access all the dopomine your brain can handle. Make some money this year so that some day you can buy your mini-mansion on the hill. Maybe after that you can fly to Bali and do nothing but sit back and enjoy life (though from the outside perspective, I have seen plenty of vacationers that are doing the exact opposite).
As a working College student I have seen the short term effects of dopomine use. Make enough money so that you can buy that bag/bottle/camera/television/album/movie/ticket/trip/experience/whatevermakesyouhappy. Make enough money that you can go out to the bar to find that sexual experience/relationship/comraderie/experience you are looking for. And really what is a relationship with another person (sexual or otherwise), but a long term chemical dependancy?
Tangent: Isn't it funny that those "squares" out there refer to most drugs as dope? Is that perhaps a word that has its root in the word dopamine, the chemical in our brains that triggers pleasure centers. Are foods, wines, human contact, drugs (illicit or not), fresh air, cold water, sports, urination, television, music, visual art, and other worldly powers (yeah, I'm talking to you Jesus/Mohammad/Moses/Buddha/Krishna/Confucious/etc) nothing but "drugs" meant to enhance the human experience? "Dope" if you will?
If these are just distractions meant to pass the time from life to life, than what the hell are we living for? Is that really all there is, this seventy year (plus) dopamine trip, passing the time from generation to generation? Pleasure beings dominating a planet in some sick Bacchus experiment. Just how much can a carbon-based being tolerate. If this is the direction that we are taking, I don't want to live in the world beyond this one.
Can you imagine a race of peoples that do nothing but sit around having thier over-sized brains trickled by the French tickler of their own design? Maybe this overstimulation is exactly what we need, a built up tolerance by the overuse of what may be distracting us from the purpose of humanity. If dopomine is evolution, than I quit (yeah right, junkies never really quit).
16 October 2008
Huh?
They must really layer it on, because I still smell like a stripper.
But in all seriousness, lets talk about the debate. I'll be honest about this, it was the final one, and the only one I saw (except for the vice-debate, damn that Palin is sexy, eh?). Sorry, got sidetracked by iTunes (Damn you Mr. Jobs) and this Genius, that is apparantly learning from what I have taught it (we shall see). Ok, fuck you I already know what I want to listen to.
Ok, on to the debate then. What was up with that line separating the candidates? Kept changing, perhaps due to the background. Ok, fine, but really distracting. McCain's facial expressions were priceless, a thousand smirks are worth only a few words. It was like watching me try my best not to blow my load, but in this case there was nothing but weak economic policy and social ethics behind it. Not that I can say much for the rediculous grin of Obama's that is a conservative cartoonist's wet dream. Well, at least he tried to address the question at hand.
I don't want to vote for a candidate that does nothing but attack the (man) guy who he calls the attacker. You have boiled down the American voter to someone who actually listens to the ads you put out there (and the "Average 'Joe Plumber/Sixpack/Electrition/Factory Worker' TV viewer [who may or may not be buying into your bullshit in the first place]). Get past the fact that the American political system has been reduced to the same thing that CBS relied on eight years ago (Survivor), and talk about what actually matters.
That fucking smell keeps invading my nostrils, which makes me think of nothing but Sarah Palin. (Those tricky think tank bastards.) But we have gotten over that, right? (I hope so.)
What I really wanted to talk about was the asthetics of the debate itself. And first off, who the fuck was doing the camera work. Hopefully, the camera man for Obama was drugged and was recriuted by the upper eschelons of CBS. This guy just couldn't keep the darker candidate in frame. However, McCain's spastic facial expressions seemed to stay in perfect focus (hey, maybe it worked out for the better).
Quick focus on that educational issue. Way to bring it down to D.C. Not only is it the worst local education in the country, but why the fuck did you want to bring the focus there McCain? Do you actually believe that anyone else believes that your (adopted) kids actually went to (charter) schools in that district? Come on, they are more priviledged than anyone can imagine, so stop trying to convince us that they are just Joes (and that goes for you too Obama). Stop trying to "fix" the educational system unless you are actually willing to rely on it yourselves.
And that goes for the "healthcare system" too. Great, Barack, you have this plan to allow all of us to buy into the Federal Employee System that all government employees have the option to buy into. But let's be realistic, you wouldn't buy your family into this program in a million years. Just admit that you have your own twenty-five thousand dollar plan and move on. Who the fuck do you think you are kidding. If you want to move this country towards a Socialist state, just fucking admit it. Stop being a fucking poilitician and start being an honest and consious human being.
I know the voting population can't handle the truth, fuck, the majority of this country can't handle the truth. These ramblings of a crack head (probably) aren't the truth, but for fuck's sake, don't we deserve it? The fringe vote won't have it, but I would rather have another four years of Buche government than have another pair of candidates that can't tell their constituancies the truth (in the moment of truth).
I'm not editing this before I post it. It is a stream of consiousness that attempted it's formulation over five hours ago. This is not to be takin(') lightly, but it could probably use some editing.
But in all seriousness, lets talk about the debate. I'll be honest about this, it was the final one, and the only one I saw (except for the vice-debate, damn that Palin is sexy, eh?). Sorry, got sidetracked by iTunes (Damn you Mr. Jobs) and this Genius, that is apparantly learning from what I have taught it (we shall see). Ok, fuck you I already know what I want to listen to.
Ok, on to the debate then. What was up with that line separating the candidates? Kept changing, perhaps due to the background. Ok, fine, but really distracting. McCain's facial expressions were priceless, a thousand smirks are worth only a few words. It was like watching me try my best not to blow my load, but in this case there was nothing but weak economic policy and social ethics behind it. Not that I can say much for the rediculous grin of Obama's that is a conservative cartoonist's wet dream. Well, at least he tried to address the question at hand.
I don't want to vote for a candidate that does nothing but attack the (man) guy who he calls the attacker. You have boiled down the American voter to someone who actually listens to the ads you put out there (and the "Average 'Joe Plumber/Sixpack/Electrition/Factory Worker' TV viewer [who may or may not be buying into your bullshit in the first place]). Get past the fact that the American political system has been reduced to the same thing that CBS relied on eight years ago (Survivor), and talk about what actually matters.
That fucking smell keeps invading my nostrils, which makes me think of nothing but Sarah Palin. (Those tricky think tank bastards.) But we have gotten over that, right? (I hope so.)
What I really wanted to talk about was the asthetics of the debate itself. And first off, who the fuck was doing the camera work. Hopefully, the camera man for Obama was drugged and was recriuted by the upper eschelons of CBS. This guy just couldn't keep the darker candidate in frame. However, McCain's spastic facial expressions seemed to stay in perfect focus (hey, maybe it worked out for the better).
Quick focus on that educational issue. Way to bring it down to D.C. Not only is it the worst local education in the country, but why the fuck did you want to bring the focus there McCain? Do you actually believe that anyone else believes that your (adopted) kids actually went to (charter) schools in that district? Come on, they are more priviledged than anyone can imagine, so stop trying to convince us that they are just Joes (and that goes for you too Obama). Stop trying to "fix" the educational system unless you are actually willing to rely on it yourselves.
And that goes for the "healthcare system" too. Great, Barack, you have this plan to allow all of us to buy into the Federal Employee System that all government employees have the option to buy into. But let's be realistic, you wouldn't buy your family into this program in a million years. Just admit that you have your own twenty-five thousand dollar plan and move on. Who the fuck do you think you are kidding. If you want to move this country towards a Socialist state, just fucking admit it. Stop being a fucking poilitician and start being an honest and consious human being.
I know the voting population can't handle the truth, fuck, the majority of this country can't handle the truth. These ramblings of a crack head (probably) aren't the truth, but for fuck's sake, don't we deserve it? The fringe vote won't have it, but I would rather have another four years of Buche government than have another pair of candidates that can't tell their constituancies the truth (in the moment of truth).
I'm not editing this before I post it. It is a stream of consiousness that attempted it's formulation over five hours ago. This is not to be takin(') lightly, but it could probably use some editing.
11 October 2008
This is actually being published onto the internet right now
Hey Hey who would of thought.
(The pen would have been the downfall of civilzatlition fuck fuck fuck fuck fucxking shits on my fucking mind civixzations is fuckced becasuse4 leslie is destrouing my ideeeeees of whaaaat is right an rooojg. We alss gonna die bcvus us ares right wrong withs mys minds. I’s frprm Scandandanaviasu ya. So ghoes fucks yourseflfceves now.)
Sinceerly,
Who the fuck do you think you ar anywai
(Editors note: Published with multiple people looking over the shoulder of an idealist that could barely comprehend reality, much less what was actually being thrown onto a keyboard. I hate you guys, I'm really seriously, get the fudge out.)
(The pen would have been the downfall of civilzatlition fuck fuck fuck fuck fucxking shits on my fucking mind civixzations is fuckced becasuse4 leslie is destrouing my ideeeeees of whaaaat is right an rooojg. We alss gonna die bcvus us ares right wrong withs mys minds. I’s frprm Scandandanaviasu ya. So ghoes fucks yourseflfceves now.)
Sinceerly,
Who the fuck do you think you ar anywai
(Editors note: Published with multiple people looking over the shoulder of an idealist that could barely comprehend reality, much less what was actually being thrown onto a keyboard. I hate you guys, I'm really seriously, get the fudge out.)
02 October 2008
A Working Theory?
So, I have this working theory (that will hopefully be worked out here over the next few days or weeks) about the construct of time. Loosely based upon the Earth's rotation, time has become very important to the species. In the information age, less importance is given to the sun, and in reality we can do what we really want at any time of day (with the exception realating to the sleep schedules of others). However, there will continue to be twenty four hours in a day, three hundred sixty five point two five days in a year, and roughly seventy five years in a lifetime (for those of you who's bodies shabbally support you for further than this, well, sorry). However, with the information age comes the ability to manipulate this time, either through your own perception and ablity, or to put it bluntly, money.
The rich, those elite of this society in this space of time, have the reached to most efficiently use time to their advantage. Being finacially secure allows many of us to do the menial tasks that (whether we choose or not) make up our lives. Everybody has to pay their bills, or retrieve their groceries from the store, or get to work, ect. So far, as my deminished cranial capacity can grasp it, at nine ten on a Thursday night, the working theory comes in a series of examples (like I said, hopefully to be refined into a full hypothesis, of which the above words seem to be lacking). So, here are some ideas.
The Car:
Though it may be part of this "American Dream" that everyone own their own vehicle, it is simply just not possible. However, the accepted fact is that in order to survive (you know; food, water, shelter, clothing) human being must work within the confines of the economic structure. If you don't have a car, how do you get to work? Public transportation (which by the way is better funded than many social institutions, why? hmmmmmmmm). Those of us that can't drive directly to the centers in which we trade our time spend much more time waiting for the bus, riding the bus, and arguing with the bus drivers.
The Domestic Worker:
This may be a small percentage, but it is really only the very finacially able that can actually hire other people to do these menial tasks for us. Things like going to the grocery store, cooking meals, cleaning house, sprucing gardens and watering plants, and even raising our children. All of a sudden, these tasks (that may even take up much more than eight hours) are removed from the narrow spectrum of time we have to live. In fact, my livelyhood comes from people who can afford to spend a little extra to have their meals brought directly to them (of course the amount spent is usually quite disproportionate to the amount said customer can afford). I spend my time to almost suspend time for my clients (instead of walking to the store, these people are (hopefully) working on intellectual or artistic outlets, (but often) watching tv, playing video games, or are too drunk or stoned to move (and maybe, they just can't afford to own transportation).
The Computer/The Internet:
I recently didn't have to stand in line at the DMV to renew my car's registration. This is because I have the priviledge of internet access. Instead of spending two of my precious hours listening to music and reading while waiting for the beuracracy to chug along in front of me, I just payed the bill on-line. I can even avoid going to any number of retail outlets because I can simply have my STUFF delivered directly to my door. I don't have to go to the library or the bookstore or the newstand because all the information I need is just beyond my keyboard. Nearly realistically, if you have a computer and a credit card, you don't even need to leave the house, leaving plenty of time for mental, personal, artistic, academic, philosophical, or sexual masterbation.
The iPhone:
Combine them all, and what do you have. A device, outside the economic reaches of most human beings, that can do it all. Imagine being able to walk down the street on you way to any of these daily chores while surfing the internet (I just bought a shirt while out at the bar and a bicycle on my walk to work!). Add some applications and you don't even have to find out what music is playing, or wonder what the traffic is like, or feel detached from your out-of-state friends, or wait until you get home to see that all important tv show, because its all in your fucking hand!
The rich, those elite of this society in this space of time, have the reached to most efficiently use time to their advantage. Being finacially secure allows many of us to do the menial tasks that (whether we choose or not) make up our lives. Everybody has to pay their bills, or retrieve their groceries from the store, or get to work, ect. So far, as my deminished cranial capacity can grasp it, at nine ten on a Thursday night, the working theory comes in a series of examples (like I said, hopefully to be refined into a full hypothesis, of which the above words seem to be lacking). So, here are some ideas.
The Car:
Though it may be part of this "American Dream" that everyone own their own vehicle, it is simply just not possible. However, the accepted fact is that in order to survive (you know; food, water, shelter, clothing) human being must work within the confines of the economic structure. If you don't have a car, how do you get to work? Public transportation (which by the way is better funded than many social institutions, why? hmmmmmmmm). Those of us that can't drive directly to the centers in which we trade our time spend much more time waiting for the bus, riding the bus, and arguing with the bus drivers.
The Domestic Worker:
This may be a small percentage, but it is really only the very finacially able that can actually hire other people to do these menial tasks for us. Things like going to the grocery store, cooking meals, cleaning house, sprucing gardens and watering plants, and even raising our children. All of a sudden, these tasks (that may even take up much more than eight hours) are removed from the narrow spectrum of time we have to live. In fact, my livelyhood comes from people who can afford to spend a little extra to have their meals brought directly to them (of course the amount spent is usually quite disproportionate to the amount said customer can afford). I spend my time to almost suspend time for my clients (instead of walking to the store, these people are (hopefully) working on intellectual or artistic outlets, (but often) watching tv, playing video games, or are too drunk or stoned to move (and maybe, they just can't afford to own transportation).
The Computer/The Internet:
I recently didn't have to stand in line at the DMV to renew my car's registration. This is because I have the priviledge of internet access. Instead of spending two of my precious hours listening to music and reading while waiting for the beuracracy to chug along in front of me, I just payed the bill on-line. I can even avoid going to any number of retail outlets because I can simply have my STUFF delivered directly to my door. I don't have to go to the library or the bookstore or the newstand because all the information I need is just beyond my keyboard. Nearly realistically, if you have a computer and a credit card, you don't even need to leave the house, leaving plenty of time for mental, personal, artistic, academic, philosophical, or sexual masterbation.
The iPhone:
Combine them all, and what do you have. A device, outside the economic reaches of most human beings, that can do it all. Imagine being able to walk down the street on you way to any of these daily chores while surfing the internet (I just bought a shirt while out at the bar and a bicycle on my walk to work!). Add some applications and you don't even have to find out what music is playing, or wonder what the traffic is like, or feel detached from your out-of-state friends, or wait until you get home to see that all important tv show, because its all in your fucking hand!
19 August 2008
The Cyber Protection Racket
Popups are annoying, I'll try not to tell you anymore than you don't already know. Roadsigns that lead only to tourist traps trying to rob passersby of their addresses and telephone numbers. Distractions from the Superhighway Internation Four: enticing you in Wyoming with cheap ice cream; or offering you free porn at a Kansas truck stop; or absolution of sin by a North Texas ordained zealot; or a free icamodieaphone for a few favors on an Arkansas farm. Windows to peer into but never touch with your Microsoft™ Hand®.
Most of my popups are blocked by my browser, like a surgical mask that the Chinese wear every time they go to Beijing. For some reason however, I do get a Netflix free trial ad every time I log into my paid Netflix account, a biproduct of the antibodies I recieve I suppose. I try to keep my system reasonably clean to avoid popup ad in the first place and these "germs" they bring with them.
And it was through my own dilligence in keeping the 'ole laptop going that I came across the worst popup I have ever encountered, the very program set in place to keep the computer safe. The police of my system slowly going corrupt. The contractors I gladly invite into my hard drive, extort me with bells and beeps to remind me that I'm not paying them enough.
StopSign runs its own scans and opens browsers without asking just so it can let me know what it can do for me, like some door-to-door salesman let past the door by an unsuspecting and rather lonely elderly woman. McAffee is so far up my operating system's ass that it's got Bill Gates telling me in person that my computer is not fully protected, not until I slide a check across the table. The mob has my capacitors in a vice grip threatening me with worms, trojans, adware, and identity theft until I pay for the protection.
I'm not here to make any assumptions, but in order to stop viral agents that cruise the fiber-optic waves of information, wouldn't you need to know at least as much about these programs as the rouge writers who themselves create chaos for profit? Who is really writing the next big outbreak that will victimize thousands of unprotected computer users? Just some juice for thought.
And as I drift off to sleep listening to the sweet sounds of digitally provided post-rock, I know that I will probably once again be pierced by yet another misplaced chime.
I want my Microsoft™ Hand® to be a different gesture.
Most of my popups are blocked by my browser, like a surgical mask that the Chinese wear every time they go to Beijing. For some reason however, I do get a Netflix free trial ad every time I log into my paid Netflix account, a biproduct of the antibodies I recieve I suppose. I try to keep my system reasonably clean to avoid popup ad in the first place and these "germs" they bring with them.
And it was through my own dilligence in keeping the 'ole laptop going that I came across the worst popup I have ever encountered, the very program set in place to keep the computer safe. The police of my system slowly going corrupt. The contractors I gladly invite into my hard drive, extort me with bells and beeps to remind me that I'm not paying them enough.
StopSign runs its own scans and opens browsers without asking just so it can let me know what it can do for me, like some door-to-door salesman let past the door by an unsuspecting and rather lonely elderly woman. McAffee is so far up my operating system's ass that it's got Bill Gates telling me in person that my computer is not fully protected, not until I slide a check across the table. The mob has my capacitors in a vice grip threatening me with worms, trojans, adware, and identity theft until I pay for the protection.
I'm not here to make any assumptions, but in order to stop viral agents that cruise the fiber-optic waves of information, wouldn't you need to know at least as much about these programs as the rouge writers who themselves create chaos for profit? Who is really writing the next big outbreak that will victimize thousands of unprotected computer users? Just some juice for thought.
And as I drift off to sleep listening to the sweet sounds of digitally provided post-rock, I know that I will probably once again be pierced by yet another misplaced chime.
I want my Microsoft™ Hand® to be a different gesture.
08 August 2008
Studented Dimentia
Well it must be August because the great migration of people and their things is in full swing. Garbage dumpsters all across the town overflow with the discarded remnants of the past school year. The yearly tradition of purging dingy apartments and east-side flop houses of accumulated junk that is no longer any use to those who bought them. Perhaps out of pure disregard to or pure ignorance of that amount of filth they lay upon our city, these offspring of the white-collar elites leave what they don’t want behind. And what they leave behind is the rotting stink of our consumer based disposable culture. Every year it happens and the whole community just stands by, assuming that the garbage haulers will take care of it, allowing their “quaint” little lives to continue, refuse free. The bees are in full swing, swarming around decaying fruits instead of pollinating the flowers of the Pearl Street beds. The raccoons pace the streets instead of being kept within the confines of the University. Fights break out right above my head as I try to plummet to sleep each early morning. But, hey, with an overwhelmingly massive import economy based almost entirely upon a growing service industry, maybe they are actually helping out by trashing what they don’t want, opening more opportunities for more buying, more consumption with seemingly infinite monetary resources. Guess what guys? It runs out. Mom and Dad won’t pay for it forever, or maybe they will, and if this is the case, well, I just feel sorry for you. Well until next year…
30 June 2008
08 June 2008
From the Field Notes of Dr. G. Howard Greene, Anthropologist:
April 12: I may have stumbled across the most significant discovery of my own life. I became marooned on this island about a week ago after a band of Maori pirates ransacked and then destroyed my ship. They left me to die with a small backpack and no food in a lifeboat. This pen and paper, a small Nalgene, some short pieces of webbing, a Bic lighter, and my iPod is all that I was left with to survive. I blacked out sometime overnight and once I regained consciousness the raft had washed ashore.
April 14: I have been surviving upon nuts and berries for the last two days, as I imagine local human being might. I sleep in a tree not far into the brush to avoid the insects that I fear more than death. Speaking of death, I have decided what music will usher me into eternal sleep: Aegis Byrun by Sigur Ros. I know I cannot go on much longer. I’ve had a good run, I have nothing else to live for, goodbye!
April 15: Still alive. I have begun running about the canopy in hopes I might accidentally fall and kill myself.
April 16: Saved! I have located the local human population. I have done my best to remain undetected by them. Initial observations indicate that they are completely unspoiled by modernity: natural dress, early human tool use, loose hierarchical societal structure. This hierarchy seems to be based upon who can build the best fire. The moral conflict is ripe. If I do not make contact I will surely not survive, the lack of protein in my diet is already slowing my mind. If I do show myself to them I may taint their harmonious lifestyle.
April 17: I don’t want to die!!! I am too young, if I make it back to the western world I could be the richest and most famous Anthropologist of all time. Please to let me die out here alone.
April 19: I stripped down naked and walked into a completely alien human community. I have stashed my backpack amongst the trees. I was greeted with inquisitive stares from the males and shrieks of horror from the females. I was ushered quickly into a grass hut and given a loin cloth after being stabbed with several needles. After gaining consciousness once more I was allowed to roam freely. I came across one woman who wore an enormous amount of body paint. She sat in a chair within some sort of alter. She faced a massive bonfire and she stared unbrokenly into it. Suddenly she barks an order and a nearby man scrambles to do her bidding. I walked into her gaze and try to meet her eye. She rolled her head on her neck and took a moment to focus. She shrieked and I looked down to notice that my loin cloth was no longer secured. I felt a familiar prick and blacked out.
I returned to my tree and gathered my safari clothing and backpack. I walked right up to the privileged woman and stared back into her eyes. I turned the Bic in my hand and flicked it with my thumb. She nearly fell out of her chair she was so excited. My guess is that she wasn’t having the best time leading these people and was glad to pass the duty along to me. My apparent ability to conjure fire from my hand stunned everyone and they fell to their knees. The power I feel is just as stunning to me, I feel like God must feel when he attends one of those mega-churches in the Southern U.S.
Ah ha, but I have another trick up my sleeve! I pulled the iPod out of my backpack and put the earbuds into the listening orifice of the nearest local. A wild look came over his eyes as the Mars Volta tore right through his brain. Soon a line formed to hear my new feat of magic. Man, these people are great, who would have thought that the exact same organ could have evolved in such different directions. I guess Darwin probably thought that.
April 20: Bad news, I ran out of butane today. No longer able to bring about flame at will, I have been dethroned. My replacement stole my iPod and I have been forced to make playlist selections for her. I’m scared and I want to go home. The battery bar is down to a short red line, and my next selection will be Sigur Ros.
April 14: I have been surviving upon nuts and berries for the last two days, as I imagine local human being might. I sleep in a tree not far into the brush to avoid the insects that I fear more than death. Speaking of death, I have decided what music will usher me into eternal sleep: Aegis Byrun by Sigur Ros. I know I cannot go on much longer. I’ve had a good run, I have nothing else to live for, goodbye!
April 15: Still alive. I have begun running about the canopy in hopes I might accidentally fall and kill myself.
April 16: Saved! I have located the local human population. I have done my best to remain undetected by them. Initial observations indicate that they are completely unspoiled by modernity: natural dress, early human tool use, loose hierarchical societal structure. This hierarchy seems to be based upon who can build the best fire. The moral conflict is ripe. If I do not make contact I will surely not survive, the lack of protein in my diet is already slowing my mind. If I do show myself to them I may taint their harmonious lifestyle.
April 17: I don’t want to die!!! I am too young, if I make it back to the western world I could be the richest and most famous Anthropologist of all time. Please to let me die out here alone.
April 19: I stripped down naked and walked into a completely alien human community. I have stashed my backpack amongst the trees. I was greeted with inquisitive stares from the males and shrieks of horror from the females. I was ushered quickly into a grass hut and given a loin cloth after being stabbed with several needles. After gaining consciousness once more I was allowed to roam freely. I came across one woman who wore an enormous amount of body paint. She sat in a chair within some sort of alter. She faced a massive bonfire and she stared unbrokenly into it. Suddenly she barks an order and a nearby man scrambles to do her bidding. I walked into her gaze and try to meet her eye. She rolled her head on her neck and took a moment to focus. She shrieked and I looked down to notice that my loin cloth was no longer secured. I felt a familiar prick and blacked out.
I returned to my tree and gathered my safari clothing and backpack. I walked right up to the privileged woman and stared back into her eyes. I turned the Bic in my hand and flicked it with my thumb. She nearly fell out of her chair she was so excited. My guess is that she wasn’t having the best time leading these people and was glad to pass the duty along to me. My apparent ability to conjure fire from my hand stunned everyone and they fell to their knees. The power I feel is just as stunning to me, I feel like God must feel when he attends one of those mega-churches in the Southern U.S.
Ah ha, but I have another trick up my sleeve! I pulled the iPod out of my backpack and put the earbuds into the listening orifice of the nearest local. A wild look came over his eyes as the Mars Volta tore right through his brain. Soon a line formed to hear my new feat of magic. Man, these people are great, who would have thought that the exact same organ could have evolved in such different directions. I guess Darwin probably thought that.
April 20: Bad news, I ran out of butane today. No longer able to bring about flame at will, I have been dethroned. My replacement stole my iPod and I have been forced to make playlist selections for her. I’m scared and I want to go home. The battery bar is down to a short red line, and my next selection will be Sigur Ros.
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