Tuesday, October 06, 2009

Until further notice

I'm done with blogger. Until I have the specifics worked out, at which point I'll drop all the information here, enjoy the Uglistick:



Monday, September 14, 2009

Blog spot seems to be shitting itself, again. Will be moving the blog soonish- as in whenever I get regular internet access (sometime in the next two weeks). Any recommendations/preferences on where to move it?


Wednesday, September 09, 2009


It is noting special to be a parent or have a kid. Any retard with working sex organs can reproduce. Parenting isn't about knocking someone up, it's about actually being there and raising the children. It's not about forcing the offspring into rigid modes of dogmatic acceptance, either. It's more about gardening.

Good parents aren't those that indoctrinate their children into being mindless clones imitating mommy/daddy. Good parents guide, direct, and nurture growth. They don't force it into a singular expression. It's the difference between bonsai and bell peppers.

Bonsai are constantly clipped, modified, formed, and manipulated until they become the desired shape. Bell peppers are planted, given water, weeded, stressed at certain points to provide varieties of color, texture, and taste. As should be apparent, it's a thin line- sometimes- between the one and the other.

Shitting out a kid, abandoning it, but paying lipservice to your own parentalship, that's certainly not parenting.

Saturday, September 05, 2009

Drugs are Kewl!

Last month disappeared into the Hellishness of the Great White North that is Indiana- the high one day in AUGUST was only 60-something. But, more on that will have to wait. Especially since I'm not done up here, yet.

However, drugs have been much on my mind lately. And today, Warren Ellis has pointed me at an article about the way the Ancient Greeks and Romans looked at/used psychoactive drugs.

Sure, it makes sense that the Greeks and Romans used psychoactives. Fits right into the conceptions I was taught of self-indulgent orgies, vomitariums, et cetera. No problems with all that; but the person writing the article makes a lot of common, and stupid, assertions about drug use in general.

"[...]cannabis can alter your perception of reality, not just your mood.

Reports of psychoactive drug experiences tend to support the idea that the user can become aware of multiple levels of reality all present simultaneously that are far more complex and yet more harmonious and unified than normal experience permits her to perceive. All sorts of understandings are possible, based on the particular mind and the particular drug[...]"


Those "higher levels" only existed from the time the drug's chemicals invade the brain meats to the time they are flushed out of those same brain meats. Subjective PSYCHOlogical ACTIVity in the head of a person on psychoactive drugs is not what I'd call supporting tendency in "reports". Without the drugs no one ever experiences those higher levels (excluding such abnormal phenomenon as Left Temporal Lobe Epilepsy, and similar events). If no one had ever taken the drugs we wouldn't talk about these "altered states". The drugs create the effects, they don't grant access to otherwise unattainable levels of existence. Anyone who would contend otherwise should feel free to take some objective, rigorous, experimental sensor readings to indicate the existence of these other "planes". fMRI wouldn't qualify- blood flow to certain areas of the brain would, indeed, (seem to) indicate higher levels of activity in those areas, which would be exactly what we expect due to the cognitive skewing of the psychoactive drug(s).

Guess what: Reality is Real. Bullshit some assholes believe because it seemed real when they were trippin' off acid (when they knew they shouldn't have kicked it with them spider monkeys) is bullshit. Drugs aren't bad, per se; and that's an argument for a different time. My point is that drugs aren't some aid to the mystical. The mystical is bullshit, emergent effects from the psychoactive response in the brain- not real. Anyone who goes all misty/starry eyed when talking about the vast levels of consciousness accessible through the gateway of little chemical packages is fooling themselves. Which is probably pretty easy since their little drug-friends have probably rotted holes in the bits they're trying to think with.


Friday, July 31, 2009


Power Outages suck.

12 Hours of same is even more suck.

Back now, for the day, at least.

Thursday, July 30, 2009



So, let's begin:

Slashdot pointed me to:

An Article by David Pogue:
15-SECOND INSTRUCTIONS This one makes me crazy. When I call to leave you a voicemail message, the first thing I hear, before I’m allowed to hear the beep, is 15 seconds of instructions. “To page this person, press 5.” Page this person!? Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize this was 1980! “When you have finished recording, you may hang up.” Oh, really!? So glad you mentioned that! I would have stayed on the line forever!

And then when I call in for messages, I’m held up for 15 more seconds. “To listen to your messages, press 1.” Why else would I be calling!?

(Yes, there are key-presses that can bypass the instructions. But they’re different for each carrier. When you call someone, you’re supposed to know which carrier that person uses and which key to press? Sure.)

Is this really so evil? Is 15 seconds here and there that big a deal? Well, Verizon has 70 million customers. If each customer leaves one message and checks voicemail once a day, Verizon rakes in — are you sitting down? — $850 million a year. That’s right: $850 million, just from making us sit through those 15-second airtime-eating instructions.


Sunday, July 05, 2009


Still no fix on the computer front, yet. Should have it resolved by August- I hope.

So... Yeah...

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Computer Troubles And More!

I've been having computer troubles since a little over a week ago. Catastrophic failure has been averted; but I'm not sure for how long. So, in case there's a long pause here while I scrounge and scrimp and build a new frankensteinian internet terminal, I'll ramble on about my weekend at Bonaroo '09 after the fold...

Yes, yes, I went to Bonaroo. {see here, and here for generic details} We paid for the cheap-o regular tickets- roughly $270-ish after all the fees, etc. Four days of Primitive Camping, with porta-potties and a half mile walk into the center festival area. We- I went with my sister, her "wife", and some hippies- arrived Thursday night and stayed through Monday morning. It was... interesting. A bit disappointing- okay A LOT of a bit- but also vaguely cool and fun in ways that probably had more to do with the people I was with than the location.

Sunday, while firmly entrenched beneath a tarp for further protection from the sun, I wrote a little piece about the profound problems I kept running into face-first.


Ah, Bonaroo. The heat, the mud, the stench of burning skunk, and human shit. The scantily clad women and men, the burning red glare of sunburned flesh, and the rage inducing sight of morning joggers hoofing it around the 700 acres of tents and RVs. The three women wearing only paint on their exposed chest-icles. The copious amounts of frat boys sheathed in greek letters, false bravado, and beer pong tables.

I'm forced to contemplate the dried on mud, the ants, and especially the faux hippies. Do they know they're faking it? Does everyone else? What happens at the instant they become authentic, when faking it has become making it? Do they notice? Or does it take such a profound naivety and refusal to acknowledge reality, that they will have long before convinced themselves that THEY are the real deal- while everyone else is just a hippie hater?

Afterall, they will have, naturally, gravitated to the external reinforcement of other wanna-bes. The profound stupidity of the ones who try so hard to be free, counter-cultural, and relevant while miming slogans and ideals invented decades ago, buying fake authentic organic free-range cotton blended skirts at L. L. Bean, and spending daddy's money on drugs of varying quality and quantity, goes unnoticed by those guilty of perpetrating. Instead, they see their own ideas reflected in perfect detail by a hundred thousand others and bask in their own original brilliance, convinced of their ability to effect the change that hasn't happened during the nearly fifty years of peace, love, and funky munkeys. I'm my own bi-sexual, independent, free, and proactive vector for a beter world- making a change by singing along to Ani Difranco's cover of a hundred year old Union Hymn, thirty miles north of, virtually union free, Alabama.

Hand in hand with the huge recycling, composting, and conservation intitiatives among thirty thousand gas guzzling behemoths- not a Prius in sight- and enough poly-plastics to choke every dolphin, manatee, and whale that has (or will) ever lived.

But that Grateful Dead sticker/flag/t-shirt on the car/RV/100% water resistant, non-biodegradable tent makes them a rebel- just like everyone else...

Maybe I'm being too harsh.

There are ALL kinds, and it takes them all, right?

'Cause when I think huge hippie hug music fest, I think the Neo-Conservative HEART of the bible Belt in Southernmost Tennessee. Because the many hundreds of porta-potties- serviced and chemically cleaned three times daily- and the nigh $300 cheap tickets beam wavey gravey straight into MY brains. I mean, where else would one fo to watch Bruce Springsteen and Snoop Dog and Nine Inch Nails but a peace, love, and happiness festival sponsered by FUSE, Butterfinger, and Xbox 360? Now with free, seven dollar, showers! And a tent to recharge your cellphone while you check your email and update your twitter. New Media makes you edgy, hip, and culturally relevant! (This message brought to you by Vitamin Water PLUS by Coca Cola...)

Then again, four days of primitive camping with the sounds of generators- for the RVs, the lights, pavillions, and occasional camper- that does take a certain amount of comitment. Hence the ubiquitous smell of dank stanky 'anky... or is that human shit? Best not to think about it, like that mud in front of the porta-'lets that sucked your inorganic, petroleum based, flip-flop off your foot and squished up past the blisters on your toes.


You tool.


Having said that, it wasn't all bad. It's an interesting experience, and if you're an upwardly mobile recent college graduate, or a frat boy, or attracted to either of those, you'll probably love it (assuming you can stand the opressive heat of the southern summer). But the line-ups are kinda stupid, and the hour to hour and a half sets that stagger means there will be many times where you watch one show for thirty minutes, catch the last thirty of another, and the final thirty of a third before waiting an hour or three for the next set. Just check to make sure you have ample amounts of portable shade, sunblock, hydration (and electrolytes), and resolve. Ensuring that you give a crap about the line-up, optional...

But don't expect it to be anything like what the advertising material claims. (Maybe if you fork out the $700 for the cheapest VIP tickets... maybe...)


Saturday, June 06, 2009

From BoingBoing:

I love this guys lectures. I watched both of his on primate sexuality, and highly recommend them. (They are linked towards the bottom of the Boing Boing article, linked above.)

Friday, June 05, 2009

Warren Ellis

Seriously one of the best authors of entertaining, often thought provoking, word pictures today. Warren Ellis' third column for Wired UK is online, and it's a great read:

"UK booksellers are not yet reduced to the condition of their American cousins, who have gone beyond firing staff and are now using their bodies for food and heat. They fear the Kindle like it was the breath of the devil’s cock on their shoulder – despite the fact that Mr Bezos’s clever little board has probably not sold a million units yet. Because, as any American bookseller will shriek at you while gouging their own forearms open with Stanley knives, only 34 Americans actually buy and read books. As far as they’re concerned, the Kindle emerged directly from Satan’s mangina and will doom them all.

We have no such fear here in Britain. Here, the threat to reading comes only from our education system – and the fact that most children are born to 15-year-old foetal-alcohol-syndrome cases."

(first seen at WarrenEllis.com)


Displayed to EVERYONE...

Hidden, except for interested readers.