Friday, December 19, 2008
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
The following was written during tonight's class on my cell phone. Be warned, I wrote it while incredibly bored and severely depressed, and as a result I cannot be held accountable for its contents (which is to say, I don't really remember what I wrote). The post picks up about 2 hours into a mind-numbingly boring class, and covers the remaining two and a half hours. Be aware that it probably contains several typos, as those keys are just so damn small, and there are large gaps in time between entries. I have no explanation for these, perhaps I passed out. Now, as further ado would severely impact the tone of the raw, unfiltered crazy, here it is.
MOBILE POST BEGINS HERE
This is a post written on a cell phone.
Why am I writing on a cell phone? Have I forgotten the spacious luxury of a full sized keyboard, and chosen instead the clicky resistance of a tiny array of lettered Tic Tacs? Well, what say you?
Oh, right, those were rhetorical. Please accept my apologies. At any rate, I am pecking away at this tiny keyboard because the fellow at the head of the room who fancies himself an instructor is droning on about the importance of electronic mail. Were you aware of it, dear reader, that mail can be sent over the internet now? Fascinating, is it not?
If it were, I would not be rambling away on my phone.
I have just turned the page in my instructional textbook, and there is an illustration of a cell phone. You might consider that ironic, were you to concentrate on it really hard while bashing your head into a wall. Here I am, concentrating vigorously on a cell phone while inches away, a photograph of a cell phone. And the physical cell phone, the one that exists in the real world, the one I am madly clicking away at, doesn't look anything like the depicted cell phone. I look at the inside cover, and there lies the answer: copyright 1988.
Side note: it took me about 90 seconds to figure out how to type the colon.
Additional side note: I had originally phrased that sentence, "enter the colon," but quickly thought better of it.
What was I talking about again? I could scroll up and check, but on this phone that operation could take the better part of an hour. Guess there's no turning back now, nowhere to go but forward.
This could be a good thing. It's a chance to be spontaneous, real stream of consciousness stuff, without having to stop be slave to constraints like format or grammar (not that I give half a shit about that stuff anyway, but this way, I can be totally shitless).
So, let's do this in a combination stream-of-consciousness/live-blog style. Which I believe may look a little something like this:
8:00 PM
I discover a new level of boredom, having endured this tedium for over two hours.
See that? That's a dead honest timestamp right there. It just so happens that it is exactly 8 pm right now. Crazy, right? Yeah, I know.
8:01 PM
Christ, how long will this go on?
Okay, maybe I should wait a little longer between updates. I'll try listening to the guy for a little while, maybe he's actually saying something interesting now.
8:05 PM
Nope.
He's explaining automated phone systems. And he just brought up those stupid ATT ads with the voicemail personas. God, I hate those. And he just brought them up as being something of actual relevance to network administration. Oh, you want to make sure you're reachable on the phone? Really? I did not know that, thanks for bringing in the stunning real life experience.
8:10 PM
Netscape? You're talking about Netscape? Does it even still exist?
8:11 PM
No one else in the class can say for sure if Netscape is still around. Maybe I could look it up if he hadn't PULLED THE GODDAMN NETWORK CABLE out of the switch, depriving the entire room of Internet access. What a dick.
8:14 PM
Next scheduled break is at 8:38. Maybe I can sneak in a quick nap until then.
I just realized that this doesn't really qualify as a live-blog, because I'm not updating it in real time; I am going to upload the whole thing when I get home.
8:18 PM
I spend another way-too-long amount of time hunting for the semi-colon.
8:20 PM
Hey, I wonder if this phone has an interrobang!
8:21 PM
Sadly, it does not. Why the fuck doesn't it?!
Do me a favor, squint your eyes at that last bit of punctuation, and let's pretend it's an interrobang.
Mmmmm, pretending... Amazing, isn't it? That phantom interrobang? Doesn't it just stare directly into your soul? DOESN'T IT?!
8:27 PM
11 minutes to go. Then I can set off the device, and it will exterminate them all.
EXTERMINATE!
EXTERMINATE!
EXTERMINATE!
Can you believe I actually had to type that up all three times? My phone has no copy and paste function.
8:30 PM
:-(
8:31 PM
I've got to think! What would Douglas Adams do in this situation, if he were still alive?
Answer: he would probably blog about it.
8:32 PM
:-(
8:35 PM
I need more Doctor Who references.
Here's one: my short, portly teacher may in fact be a Sontaran.
8:37 PM
One more minute!
8:38 PM
Booyah!
8:56 PM
I feel better now. Over the break I smoked two joints (Full disclosure: no I didn't. That was fictional.), and now I'm feeling fine.
9:01 PM
Some idiot has started randomly pulling cables out of the patch panel, resulting in the physical manifestation of an administrator's nightmare. Nice job, dumbass, bringing about the networking equivalent of hell on earth.
9:29 PM
Hm, an hour left and we still haven't started the lab. Doesn't look like we're going to get to it. And now that I think about it, my teacher is most likely a Rutan spy in semi-Sontaran shape. Probably so that he can lure out Sontaran sympathizers and burn out their insides with the raw energy of his true form.
10:21 PM
I can finally go home now.
FINAL THOUGHT: "At least the screaming of infants drowns out the moans of the dead."
-Idly scribbled on a piece of scrap paper at some point during the tedium.
I don't remember writing it, but it's in my handwriting, so I must have.
END MOBILE POST
MOBILE POST BEGINS HERE
This is a post written on a cell phone.
Why am I writing on a cell phone? Have I forgotten the spacious luxury of a full sized keyboard, and chosen instead the clicky resistance of a tiny array of lettered Tic Tacs? Well, what say you?
Oh, right, those were rhetorical. Please accept my apologies. At any rate, I am pecking away at this tiny keyboard because the fellow at the head of the room who fancies himself an instructor is droning on about the importance of electronic mail. Were you aware of it, dear reader, that mail can be sent over the internet now? Fascinating, is it not?
If it were, I would not be rambling away on my phone.
I have just turned the page in my instructional textbook, and there is an illustration of a cell phone. You might consider that ironic, were you to concentrate on it really hard while bashing your head into a wall. Here I am, concentrating vigorously on a cell phone while inches away, a photograph of a cell phone. And the physical cell phone, the one that exists in the real world, the one I am madly clicking away at, doesn't look anything like the depicted cell phone. I look at the inside cover, and there lies the answer: copyright 1988.
Side note: it took me about 90 seconds to figure out how to type the colon.
Additional side note: I had originally phrased that sentence, "enter the colon," but quickly thought better of it.
What was I talking about again? I could scroll up and check, but on this phone that operation could take the better part of an hour. Guess there's no turning back now, nowhere to go but forward.
This could be a good thing. It's a chance to be spontaneous, real stream of consciousness stuff, without having to stop be slave to constraints like format or grammar (not that I give half a shit about that stuff anyway, but this way, I can be totally shitless).
So, let's do this in a combination stream-of-consciousness/live-blog style. Which I believe may look a little something like this:
8:00 PM
I discover a new level of boredom, having endured this tedium for over two hours.
See that? That's a dead honest timestamp right there. It just so happens that it is exactly 8 pm right now. Crazy, right? Yeah, I know.
8:01 PM
Christ, how long will this go on?
Okay, maybe I should wait a little longer between updates. I'll try listening to the guy for a little while, maybe he's actually saying something interesting now.
8:05 PM
Nope.
He's explaining automated phone systems. And he just brought up those stupid ATT ads with the voicemail personas. God, I hate those. And he just brought them up as being something of actual relevance to network administration. Oh, you want to make sure you're reachable on the phone? Really? I did not know that, thanks for bringing in the stunning real life experience.
8:10 PM
Netscape? You're talking about Netscape? Does it even still exist?
8:11 PM
No one else in the class can say for sure if Netscape is still around. Maybe I could look it up if he hadn't PULLED THE GODDAMN NETWORK CABLE out of the switch, depriving the entire room of Internet access. What a dick.
8:14 PM
Next scheduled break is at 8:38. Maybe I can sneak in a quick nap until then.
I just realized that this doesn't really qualify as a live-blog, because I'm not updating it in real time; I am going to upload the whole thing when I get home.
8:18 PM
I spend another way-too-long amount of time hunting for the semi-colon.
8:20 PM
Hey, I wonder if this phone has an interrobang!
8:21 PM
Sadly, it does not. Why the fuck doesn't it?!
Do me a favor, squint your eyes at that last bit of punctuation, and let's pretend it's an interrobang.
Mmmmm, pretending... Amazing, isn't it? That phantom interrobang? Doesn't it just stare directly into your soul? DOESN'T IT?!
8:27 PM
11 minutes to go. Then I can set off the device, and it will exterminate them all.
EXTERMINATE!
EXTERMINATE!
EXTERMINATE!
Can you believe I actually had to type that up all three times? My phone has no copy and paste function.
8:30 PM
:-(
8:31 PM
I've got to think! What would Douglas Adams do in this situation, if he were still alive?
Answer: he would probably blog about it.
8:32 PM
:-(
8:35 PM
I need more Doctor Who references.
Here's one: my short, portly teacher may in fact be a Sontaran.
8:37 PM
One more minute!
8:38 PM
Booyah!
8:56 PM
I feel better now. Over the break I smoked two joints (Full disclosure: no I didn't. That was fictional.), and now I'm feeling fine.
9:01 PM
Some idiot has started randomly pulling cables out of the patch panel, resulting in the physical manifestation of an administrator's nightmare. Nice job, dumbass, bringing about the networking equivalent of hell on earth.
9:29 PM
Hm, an hour left and we still haven't started the lab. Doesn't look like we're going to get to it. And now that I think about it, my teacher is most likely a Rutan spy in semi-Sontaran shape. Probably so that he can lure out Sontaran sympathizers and burn out their insides with the raw energy of his true form.
10:21 PM
I can finally go home now.
FINAL THOUGHT: "At least the screaming of infants drowns out the moans of the dead."
-Idly scribbled on a piece of scrap paper at some point during the tedium.
I don't remember writing it, but it's in my handwriting, so I must have.
END MOBILE POST
Monday, December 1, 2008
Just How Deep Does the Rabbit Hole Go?
If you live in California, in the weeks leading up the last election you probably saw this commercial for goddamned Proposition 8 where a Massachusetts couple claims that their child was forced, apparently at gunpoint, to read gay porn in the guise of children's book (I'm not going to link to the video, because I don't want Youtube to think I'm some sort of crazy bigot, and start recommending me the KKK's channel or something). Of course, their claim was cleaned up a bit, their claim of hardcore pornography changed to "pro-gay literature" so that they wouldn't come off as obvious psychopaths.
Let's set aside the issues of free speech and censorship. Not even going to talk about it, for the moment it doesn't matter. Let's also set aside the fact that the book is obviously not a propaganda piece, but rather just an exposure to an alternative lifestyle. Let's set aside the fact that the book wasn't part of the school's curriculum, and belonged to one of the students who requested that the teacher read it. Let's even set aside the fact that the supposedly persecuted parents were the only ones actually making threats in the whole affair. All of these are good enough reasons to discount the opinions of these people, but that's not what I want to discuss right now. That discussion has already taken place, and I have nothing to add to it. No, I want to talk about their motives.
Given their persecution complex and ridiculously outspoken bigotry, it shouldn't surprise you to learn that this couple is Mormon. Within its history, Mormonism has always hid its wrongdoings under the cloak of the perceived religious intolerance against them. They whine that the entire state of Missouri declared war on them, neglecting to mention that war was started because they were stealing land in a violent coup. They point out that the country sent an army to kill Brigham Young, but leave out that he had sent the appointed governors back to Washington to deliver the message that if any further government officials were sent, they would be delivered back home in very small boxes. And recently, a white powdery substance was apparently delivered to the Mormon temples in California and Salt Lake, and it wouldn't surprise me at all if it were an inside job to garner sympathy for there cause in what has become a very hostile climate.
At this point, the Devil's Advocate jumps in to say, "So what if they're Mormon? Does that make them bad people?" No, not all Mormons are bad people. In fact, a few of them aren't even retarded! However this couple's response is the typical stratagem (Note the use of the singular, that's what we like to call wit!) of the Mormon organization. In fact one might begin to think that perhaps the couple might be insiders, taking their orders from within the superstructure of the Mormon church.
And one would be right. A recent memo from within the ranks of the Mormon church has been exposed, outlining their anti-gay twelve year plan. This memo mentions a man named Dick Wirthlin as a key member of the initiative. Turns out Dick's nephew is the man appearing in these inflammatory videos. And just who the hell is dear old Uncle Dick anyway? Ol' Dick Wirthlin at the time was a General Authority in the Church of Too Fucking Long a Name. To those who don't speak Mormonese, he's the equivalent of a Cardinal in the Catholic Church, pretty high up indeed.
Now here's the kicker, this memo was dated March 4, 1997. The Wirthlins filed their complaint in 2006. These people spent 9 years waiting for something vaguely offensive to happen so that they could scream about it loud enough to get national attention. And then all that media attention was wrapped up with a nice little bow and fed to an unwary public to pass a hateful piece of legislature.
This couple is just another arm of the Mormon church, whose influence has finally stepped just far enough over the line to gain some attention. In fact, as we speak this I-can't-believe-I'm-still-calling-it-a-church is being investigated for election fraud. Apparently they only reported five thousand dollars in contributions. For someone like me, who has seen first hand the organization of the Mormon wing of this campaign through my family, that number is almost precious. It's like asking a little kid how old they think the earth is, and they reply, "weally old, like a hundwed years!" You can't help but laugh at the naivete of someone who thought that number seemed plausible. Their budget is full of huge holes and unrecorded expenses, and one way or another, the Mormon Church is going to pay.
So to everyone who said that the Mormon Church wasn't that involved in Prop 8, you can kiss my ass. As far as I'm concerned, this isn't just a smoking gun. This is the moment caught on video camera, clear as day, and the Mormon church was caught holding the gun, masturbating on the corpse. And this is me flipping the bird at my childhood religion and saying, "Guess what, buddy? You're fucked."
And this is only the beginning.
Let's set aside the issues of free speech and censorship. Not even going to talk about it, for the moment it doesn't matter. Let's also set aside the fact that the book is obviously not a propaganda piece, but rather just an exposure to an alternative lifestyle. Let's set aside the fact that the book wasn't part of the school's curriculum, and belonged to one of the students who requested that the teacher read it. Let's even set aside the fact that the supposedly persecuted parents were the only ones actually making threats in the whole affair. All of these are good enough reasons to discount the opinions of these people, but that's not what I want to discuss right now. That discussion has already taken place, and I have nothing to add to it. No, I want to talk about their motives.
Given their persecution complex and ridiculously outspoken bigotry, it shouldn't surprise you to learn that this couple is Mormon. Within its history, Mormonism has always hid its wrongdoings under the cloak of the perceived religious intolerance against them. They whine that the entire state of Missouri declared war on them, neglecting to mention that war was started because they were stealing land in a violent coup. They point out that the country sent an army to kill Brigham Young, but leave out that he had sent the appointed governors back to Washington to deliver the message that if any further government officials were sent, they would be delivered back home in very small boxes. And recently, a white powdery substance was apparently delivered to the Mormon temples in California and Salt Lake, and it wouldn't surprise me at all if it were an inside job to garner sympathy for there cause in what has become a very hostile climate.
At this point, the Devil's Advocate jumps in to say, "So what if they're Mormon? Does that make them bad people?" No, not all Mormons are bad people. In fact, a few of them aren't even retarded! However this couple's response is the typical stratagem (Note the use of the singular, that's what we like to call wit!) of the Mormon organization. In fact one might begin to think that perhaps the couple might be insiders, taking their orders from within the superstructure of the Mormon church.
And one would be right. A recent memo from within the ranks of the Mormon church has been exposed, outlining their anti-gay twelve year plan. This memo mentions a man named Dick Wirthlin as a key member of the initiative. Turns out Dick's nephew is the man appearing in these inflammatory videos. And just who the hell is dear old Uncle Dick anyway? Ol' Dick Wirthlin at the time was a General Authority in the Church of Too Fucking Long a Name. To those who don't speak Mormonese, he's the equivalent of a Cardinal in the Catholic Church, pretty high up indeed.
Now here's the kicker, this memo was dated March 4, 1997. The Wirthlins filed their complaint in 2006. These people spent 9 years waiting for something vaguely offensive to happen so that they could scream about it loud enough to get national attention. And then all that media attention was wrapped up with a nice little bow and fed to an unwary public to pass a hateful piece of legislature.
This couple is just another arm of the Mormon church, whose influence has finally stepped just far enough over the line to gain some attention. In fact, as we speak this I-can't-believe-I'm-still-calling-it-a-church is being investigated for election fraud. Apparently they only reported five thousand dollars in contributions. For someone like me, who has seen first hand the organization of the Mormon wing of this campaign through my family, that number is almost precious. It's like asking a little kid how old they think the earth is, and they reply, "weally old, like a hundwed years!" You can't help but laugh at the naivete of someone who thought that number seemed plausible. Their budget is full of huge holes and unrecorded expenses, and one way or another, the Mormon Church is going to pay.
So to everyone who said that the Mormon Church wasn't that involved in Prop 8, you can kiss my ass. As far as I'm concerned, this isn't just a smoking gun. This is the moment caught on video camera, clear as day, and the Mormon church was caught holding the gun, masturbating on the corpse. And this is me flipping the bird at my childhood religion and saying, "Guess what, buddy? You're fucked."
And this is only the beginning.
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