WoW Should Be a Controlled Substance

Quoth James: "The thing is, when I think of World of Warcraft I get the exact same feeling as I get when I think about coffee."

Ensure That All Liquid Is Clear Of Oral Cavity Before Clicking Link

I'm warning you, unless you like spewing coffee/soda/beer all over your monitor.

Last Call

The view to the right is what it looks like when you're alone in a tavern. If for whatever reason you find yourself with this same view, go see a movie or something. Or make vit zee cha-CHAH-cha.

Oh, and incidentally, apparently Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader's familial relationship can be proven by a shared physical trait: the junk in the trunk, or boo-tay, preposterous posterior, bodacious buns, et cetera. So I have overheard. Kids say the damnedest things, and by kids I mean those just recently turned twenty-one.

Best Optical Illusion Ever

Holy freakin' cow.

I Know Lots of Things

According to Bill, "You're that guy who knows who that guy was that was in the movie with the thing."

Volume, Volume, Volume

I've been following the ongoing Jack Thompson versus Penny Arcade firefight with some degree of interest and a good deal of bemusement. Today it appears that the Florida Bar Association has begun investigating whatever the latest brouhaha is worth looking at, and while IANAL it may very well be that he'll be disciplined in some fashion.

Now, I suppose that it's no crime to get upset at someone basically calling your bullshit, but what I'm finding interesting is something that's not a new development in how the web and internet work, but this case makes for a fine example of it: We outnumber you. The sheer number of Penny Arcade readers that emailed and faxed the FBA was apparently overwhelming enough to warrant action. It's a popular site with many, MANY readers, and it looks like they're not particularly apathetic about taking action to right a wrong, or even just poke someone in the eye. This is also easily evidenced at just how much money Child's Play pulls in each Christmas season, which ties neatly into the originating story.

This concept of "chorus thru volume of numbers" is something that certainly the mainstream media and political machines have obviously taken note of, what with the crazy-go-nuts newfangledness of blogging and linkblogging (by the way, blogging is nothing new, it is what hit the web right after the academic sites in the early to mid 1990's; today's automatic linking and ease of commentary is what is driving its popularity in the non-geek sector). Used to be that webmasters dreaded the so-called "Slashdot effect", as it tends to melt servers -- These days the effect is that a meme or idea or bit of news or technology can and will get spread too far too fast for the media or the government or concerned industry to really do much about other than acknowledge its existence.

Remember Mahir Cagri? Same deal, just like All Your Base and whatever other insta-memes that popped into practically every conversation worldwide, you couldn't stop them, you just had to wait til they got boring enough for folks to forget about, and then the next one would spontaneously combust into conception rather immaculately and the cycle repeats. The snake, by eating its own tail, is really just eating the back of its head. So it goes with the new concepts that are your water-cooler conversation pieces du jour, the spread of this information is happening faster than our ability to comprehend it, it dies down and gets rediscovered by a new "generation" of readers or listeners which is hopeful as it means that these concepts or ideas or memes won't die out, good or bad but be able to be discussed over and over again.

And while the media and politicos have figured this out, I do so wish the RIAA and MPAA would wake up, smell that coffee-a-brewin', and just give up on broadcast flags and copyright violation nonsense and pointless legislation to try and undo what our society is doing naturally with this technology. This propagation and popularity is natural, and no amount of legislation will impede it. We are, after all, legion.

As there's just so many of us, and we're all of like mind on some basic issues, or we're not of like mind and we're arguing heatedly about it, what key is that with the rapid fire spread of opinion, fact, argument and discussion, the older ways of resolving issues large and small are about to get swept aside in a manner that will make most heads spin. It is simply impractical to try and use the slow-moving methodology of lobbying and legislation, representation and regulation when the "common man" is already five to ten chapters ahead of you in the book, you see? Because this spread of information goes both ways so quickly, we find out about nasty tacked-on legislation as soon as it hits the floor (or sometimes beforehand) and electronically flash-mob those involved or those who can act upon it (much like the FBA and the Penny Arcade case above).

In a lot of ways, being so damned fast is a double benefit. No doubt you may have heard of Pastafarianism by now. It was a very rapidly spread meme soon after the debate on intelligent design began. I too, have been "touched by Its Noodly Appendage". While a very keen jab at intelligent design, it also stands the chance of becoming the next big thing in religion. I'm only halfway serious with that statement. In a thousand years, Elvis will be the long-sought-after messiah figure, given the spread of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, I expect it to have brick-and-mortar churches in a few decades.

The double benefit I see in the example of the FSM is this: Since we're shooting this information back and forth so fast, and our comprehension plays catchup, it too is getting faster and we can sit back and determine if intelligent design isn't actually such a bad thing. Bear with me here, but by letting the fools have their way and actually legislating something as ludicrous as intelligent design into law, they open themselves up to any religion or philosophy being taught in public schools, meaning that in short order a large group of people (oh, I don't know, say those savvy folks on the internet, don'tcha know?) could conceivably create and re-define religion in a more logical way, defeating thousands of years of socio-political evolution like the vorpal blade snicker-snacking the head off of the beast.

Chew on that a bit, and get back to me. I fully expect a comment as soon as the damned blog loads so I can see my spelling errors, except the fact that no one actually reads this but me.

EDIT: Such as the Church of Reality. Imagine that.

Last Call

Oh, I could speak to the spontaneous in-depth conversations concerning being able to purchase one-hundred pound bags of potatoes for less than a dollar at two in the morning, or how the grandson is actually fairly amenable and has at least a decent bit of taste when it comes to 80's hard rock/metal, but instead I adjourn myself to bed, and will hug that pillow and curse the fates.

God DAMN you.

Last Call

My previous prediction proved to be premature; pride prevailed, prodding people to pack in their profession; due to predilection in favor of propinquity of parentage.

In other words, Andre got fired, Pat quit out of solidarity, and we now have two new bartenders, one of which is the grandson of the owner, whose promotion precipitated the proceedings, hopefully not resulting in anyone's privation.

Which rightly sucks, because I liked having Pat as a bartender, for many a reason. Now we'll have to see just how the new gal taking over his shift works out, so far she seems nice enough and is indeed more than easy on the eyes. Grandson on the other hand I have heard described in less than stellar ways, and I doubt he's going to be a smooth fit into the culture that has taken years if not decades to nurture at the tavern.

I only hope that the majority of regulars does not perform an exodus to a different bar, that would be a shame.

DIY Rum Aftershave

A neat recipe for making your own aftershave.

I'll have to try this one day, however it would require changing my weekly shaving day from Saturday to Sunday, as no one would be able to smell my wafting rum-pot aroma on Saturdays. Of course, Sunday used to be the day o' shaving, but lately I've changed it to the day previous for reasons I can't exactly put my finger on.

Last Call

I have spent the last few days in attempted murder. Murder of a head cold or flu or some such, that is. I came down with it last week, and in its final throes I have lit it afire with the stench of nicotine and doused it out again with beery suds, and a dash of bourbon.

I do this with every cold I get, when it's almost gone I go to town, binge drinking and chain smoking in order to do the following:

1. Show my body just who the boss is, especially when it comes to feeling poorly.
2. Show my cold just exactly how indifferent I am to its needs.
3. Show myself a good time, if the murder plot should fail.

The sinuses are fine now, the ears far less fuzzed out, however there's a rattle in my lungs that persists, it should be gone shortly.

In completely unrelated news, no one is getting the axe, however we shall see just how well nepotism coalesces with communal spirit.

As a final aside, she managed to show and escape cleanly once again. Sigh.

Dear Santa

I've been REAL good this year. I swear.

Last Call

Yee haw indeed. Boat races down the gutter (my entry, Miss Marlboro won its heat, nothing like cigarette cellophane to show its overall speed and prowess in the middle of a rainstorm), the realization that the plural of doofus is doofi, backrub conga lines, and who the hell is this cowpoke?

He sure looks smoky and mysterious, don't he folks? Ah well, it was a downpour that day, and rain hats are far better than umbrellas, even if you do refer to them as bumbershoots.

A Simple Checklist

Coffee percolator? Check.
Straight razor? Check.
Fiddle? Check.
Whisky flask? Check.
Pipe and tobacco? Check.
Pocket watch? Check.
Zippo? Check.

Remainders: Re-learn how to roll smokes, learn to tie a bowtie, learn to brew beer.

Screw Hemingway: I've fathered a child and planted a tree, I feel no pressing need to prove my manhood to a bull.