So I am making my drive home late tonight, and I notice a familiar set of headlights in my rearview mirror. Using my uber car sense I think to myself thats a later 944 Turbo, or perhaps an S2.
The car comes up along side me. It's got the S2 wheels; I know this because I have the Turbo wheels. So it's a 944 S2. Nice car. It's also a Cabrio, which I then say to myself It must be a somewhat rare 1992ish S2.
At the next light we are beside each other, he's in the 'left' left turn lane, to make a U turn, I'm in the 'right' left turn lane to actually turn left. The S2 is shiney. A really nice car. Needless to say the roof is down. It is occupied by two twenty something males with collar shirts and gelled back hair. It's obvious this car exists solely to extend the driver's ego.
The driver pipes up:
"Hey, Nice car"
Wow. This kid is in way over his head. I guess I'll be nice, the light can't last that long...
"Not as nice as yours" I say back
"What year is it?" he says, as if we didn't see that coming
"88 924S" I figured I'd clarify the model just in case
"Mine's a 1992 944S2 Cab-ree-oh-lay" HA! I was right! . . . And Why Did you feel the need to tell me it's a Cab? I'm not blind you idiot. "They only made 2400 of them" Now I am fairly sure that there were fewer of the 1988 924S built, but I'll let that one go.
"Yeah man, I know my Porsches, that's a nice car."
"Yeah, they're all great" the light turns green, and as we pull away he says: "There is no substitution"
I press the gas pedel- Harder.
You God Damn Fudge Packer. If you've got to be a fucking status driver at least get your movie quotes right. It's "There is No Substitute." - "There is No Substitution" sounds like a poorly subtitled Japanese Baseball game. Do us all a favor and sell that car to someone who will know what they have.
I glared out the window as he made his U turn. I saw his tag- "POR5CH3"
Monday, November 29, 2004
Wednesday, November 3, 2004
I like monkeys
The pet store was selling them for 5¢ a piece. I thought that odd since they were normally a couple thousand each. I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I bought 200. I like monkeys.
I took my 200 monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one drive. His name was Sigmund. He was retarded. In fact, none of them were really bright. They kept punching themselves in their genitals. I laughed. Then they punched my genitals. I stopped laughing.
I herded them into my room. They didn't adapt very well to their new environment. They would screech, hurl themselves off of the couch at high speeds and slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, the spectacle lost its novelty halfway into its third hour.
Two hours later I found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive: they all died. No apparent reason. They all just sorta' dropped dead. Kinda' like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later. Damn cheap monkeys.
I didn't know what to do. There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over my room, on the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase. It looked like I had 200 throw rugs.
I tried to flush one down the toilet. It didn't work. It got stuck. Then I had one dead, wet monkey and 199 dead, dry monkeys.
I tried pretending that they were just stuffed animals. That worked for a while, that is until they began to decompose. It started to smell real bad.
I had to pee but there was a dead monkey in the toilet and I didn't want to call the plumber. I was embarrassed.
I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortunately there was only enough room for two monkeys at a time so I had to change them every 30 seconds. I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so it didn't all go bad.
I tried burning them. Little did I know my bed was flammable. I had to extinguish the fire.
Then I had one dead, wet monkey in my toilet, two dead, frozen monkeys in my freezer, and 197 dead, charred monkeys in a pile on my bed. The odor wasn't improving.
I became agitated at my inability to dispose of my monkeys and to use the bathroom. I severely beat one of my monkeys. I felt better.
I tried throwing them way but the garbage man said that the city wasn't allowed to dispose of charred primates. I told him that I had a wet one. He couldn't take that one either. I didn't bother asking about the frozen ones.
I finally arrived at a solution. I gave them out as Christmas gifts. My friends didn't know quite what to say. They pretended that they like them but I could tell they were lying. Ingrates. So I punched them in the genitals.
I took my 200 monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one drive. His name was Sigmund. He was retarded. In fact, none of them were really bright. They kept punching themselves in their genitals. I laughed. Then they punched my genitals. I stopped laughing.
I herded them into my room. They didn't adapt very well to their new environment. They would screech, hurl themselves off of the couch at high speeds and slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, the spectacle lost its novelty halfway into its third hour.
Two hours later I found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive: they all died. No apparent reason. They all just sorta' dropped dead. Kinda' like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later. Damn cheap monkeys.
I didn't know what to do. There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over my room, on the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase. It looked like I had 200 throw rugs.
I tried to flush one down the toilet. It didn't work. It got stuck. Then I had one dead, wet monkey and 199 dead, dry monkeys.
I tried pretending that they were just stuffed animals. That worked for a while, that is until they began to decompose. It started to smell real bad.
I had to pee but there was a dead monkey in the toilet and I didn't want to call the plumber. I was embarrassed.
I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortunately there was only enough room for two monkeys at a time so I had to change them every 30 seconds. I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so it didn't all go bad.
I tried burning them. Little did I know my bed was flammable. I had to extinguish the fire.
Then I had one dead, wet monkey in my toilet, two dead, frozen monkeys in my freezer, and 197 dead, charred monkeys in a pile on my bed. The odor wasn't improving.
I became agitated at my inability to dispose of my monkeys and to use the bathroom. I severely beat one of my monkeys. I felt better.
I tried throwing them way but the garbage man said that the city wasn't allowed to dispose of charred primates. I told him that I had a wet one. He couldn't take that one either. I didn't bother asking about the frozen ones.
I finally arrived at a solution. I gave them out as Christmas gifts. My friends didn't know quite what to say. They pretended that they like them but I could tell they were lying. Ingrates. So I punched them in the genitals.
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
The obvious is most often the inobvious
Tonight, I managed to:
Find an effective treatment for adult ADD,
Find an effective way to teach dyslexics to cope with their condition,
Explain senior-citizen wrist and hand arthritis,
and get Brain-Sodomized by a relatively simple task-
All in a 4-hour sitting.
Bingo. No, not the expression of discovering something or completing a task correctly, the act of gambling that most refer to as a game. I got invited by the in-laws- so I went. Little did I know that it's bingo tradition to be working 24 "cards" at the same time. The real "game" seems to be attempting to mark all the numbers on your 24 cards while the numbers are being read off at auctioneer pace.
Of course this makes the ADD learn to focus, it makes the dyslexic realize that the numbers may not be what they seem, the 'dabber' marker exercises the wrist in an exceedingly repeatitive manner, and looking down on a whole bunch of numbers and round marker dots trying to figure out if you have a "Six-pack (corners only!)" or a "Crazy Kite" leaves even the most organized mind lost in translation. . . It also puts you three numbers behind, due to the 4 nanoseconds you spent actually looking at your cards.
Once enough people have succeeded in creating a myrid of obscurely-named shapes in their cards, you get a thirty-second break to peel off the top layer of cards, revealing the next layer of an equal amount, printed on a different color paper. You do this six times with breaks of "Speedball" and "Bonanza" in between the full sheets. Due to the graphic nature of these games I will not describe them, and in fact, I will Never mention them again.
Find an effective treatment for adult ADD,
Find an effective way to teach dyslexics to cope with their condition,
Explain senior-citizen wrist and hand arthritis,
and get Brain-Sodomized by a relatively simple task-
All in a 4-hour sitting.
Bingo. No, not the expression of discovering something or completing a task correctly, the act of gambling that most refer to as a game. I got invited by the in-laws- so I went. Little did I know that it's bingo tradition to be working 24 "cards" at the same time. The real "game" seems to be attempting to mark all the numbers on your 24 cards while the numbers are being read off at auctioneer pace.
Of course this makes the ADD learn to focus, it makes the dyslexic realize that the numbers may not be what they seem, the 'dabber' marker exercises the wrist in an exceedingly repeatitive manner, and looking down on a whole bunch of numbers and round marker dots trying to figure out if you have a "Six-pack (corners only!)" or a "Crazy Kite" leaves even the most organized mind lost in translation. . . It also puts you three numbers behind, due to the 4 nanoseconds you spent actually looking at your cards.
Once enough people have succeeded in creating a myrid of obscurely-named shapes in their cards, you get a thirty-second break to peel off the top layer of cards, revealing the next layer of an equal amount, printed on a different color paper. You do this six times with breaks of "Speedball" and "Bonanza" in between the full sheets. Due to the graphic nature of these games I will not describe them, and in fact, I will Never mention them again.
Monday, September 20, 2004
Time to Move
That's It. I'm moving to the UK.
Why is it that everything is cooler over there? The people have cool accents. They have a Knight Rider PS2 game that was only released in PAL format... Sheesh, they have PAL, which is a much better looking format.
They only have 4 TV channels, but that's OK, I don't like TV Anyhow.
They have real sports like Rugby and Cricket. They have bars that have character, and beers that are worth drinking. They don't have useless SUV's on the road, and if you want, you can buy a gas-guzzling go fast car or a 100+ mile per gallon commuter box- and the government doesn't care. See, they don't have any Daft EPA emission standards or crash testing. You wanna drive a golf cart, go for it, it's your fault if you wreck it and die. They have the metric system in all they do, because it's better.
They don't have to deal with hurricanes - sure, it' gets cold, foggy, and wet, but they have cool jackets for that.
What I found out today sealed the deal. They have newer Porsche 924s than what were sold in the US. . . and they have a shop that rebuilds 924 cylinder heads using proper port velocity changes to the intake ports (adding material in some places, taking it away elsewhere) and valve grinds- making the engine produce 140 hp (and a Hidious torque increase) at the flywheel with everything else stock. Even the Mechanical Fuel Injection and ignition.
I'm done with the US. The 924 is a great car, but Americans like to throw things out as soon as something else shiney shows up.
Porsche: Build a 2005 924. Build it JUST LIKE a 1978 5 speed, only give it a CD Player, better engine mounts, and rear disc brakes (while retaining the 14" 4 lug wheels). Buy the Cylinder Head from the UK and make that the stock head. You know you germans like to buy up British things anyway. Do this, sell the car for $17,000 (which is a LOT more than what it costs to build now). If you are worried about image, brand it as something else. Call it a Volkswagen (It pretty much is anyway). You will sell more than you can build. Except in America, here we won't buy it unless it's new and different and more complex. I'd be willing to bet there is not a new car sold today that doesn't come with power steering standard- yet I'm sure there are many models that don't need it.
When I try to improve or learn to better use an existing device, I'm told that I'm 'wasting my time' and I'm looked down upon by my fellow citizens. I want to live somewhere where making the best of something is the common thread, and excessiveness is the waste. Replacing something is not the only option folks. Throwing money at problems rarely solves them. There's no way an American would work on an improved 924 head design. We don't value anything enough to work on improving it. Not our designs, not our cars, not our kids, not even our country.
Screw you guys, I'm goin' home.
Why is it that everything is cooler over there? The people have cool accents. They have a Knight Rider PS2 game that was only released in PAL format... Sheesh, they have PAL, which is a much better looking format.
They only have 4 TV channels, but that's OK, I don't like TV Anyhow.
They have real sports like Rugby and Cricket. They have bars that have character, and beers that are worth drinking. They don't have useless SUV's on the road, and if you want, you can buy a gas-guzzling go fast car or a 100+ mile per gallon commuter box- and the government doesn't care. See, they don't have any Daft EPA emission standards or crash testing. You wanna drive a golf cart, go for it, it's your fault if you wreck it and die. They have the metric system in all they do, because it's better.
They don't have to deal with hurricanes - sure, it' gets cold, foggy, and wet, but they have cool jackets for that.
What I found out today sealed the deal. They have newer Porsche 924s than what were sold in the US. . . and they have a shop that rebuilds 924 cylinder heads using proper port velocity changes to the intake ports (adding material in some places, taking it away elsewhere) and valve grinds- making the engine produce 140 hp (and a Hidious torque increase) at the flywheel with everything else stock. Even the Mechanical Fuel Injection and ignition.
I'm done with the US. The 924 is a great car, but Americans like to throw things out as soon as something else shiney shows up.
Porsche: Build a 2005 924. Build it JUST LIKE a 1978 5 speed, only give it a CD Player, better engine mounts, and rear disc brakes (while retaining the 14" 4 lug wheels). Buy the Cylinder Head from the UK and make that the stock head. You know you germans like to buy up British things anyway. Do this, sell the car for $17,000 (which is a LOT more than what it costs to build now). If you are worried about image, brand it as something else. Call it a Volkswagen (It pretty much is anyway). You will sell more than you can build. Except in America, here we won't buy it unless it's new and different and more complex. I'd be willing to bet there is not a new car sold today that doesn't come with power steering standard- yet I'm sure there are many models that don't need it.
When I try to improve or learn to better use an existing device, I'm told that I'm 'wasting my time' and I'm looked down upon by my fellow citizens. I want to live somewhere where making the best of something is the common thread, and excessiveness is the waste. Replacing something is not the only option folks. Throwing money at problems rarely solves them. There's no way an American would work on an improved 924 head design. We don't value anything enough to work on improving it. Not our designs, not our cars, not our kids, not even our country.
Screw you guys, I'm goin' home.
Monday, August 16, 2004
El Niño is Communist
So I go play a game with Joe. Illuminati. Very addictive. Very. So anyhow this game is about controlling a secret society trying to take over the world- or some other goal associatied with your Illuminati (group). You do this by controlling different groups and institutions around the world, everything from The Federal Reserve to The KGB to even Motorcycle gangs and punk rockers. Each of these groups have alignments and special powers, i.e. the Drug Dealers have a violent alignment, and give your Illuminati bonuses to controlling the Punk Rockers and Hollywood Stars. Oh yeah, each group has income too, needless to say the Drug Dealers have a heap of income.
What's funny is when I started this entry I googled "Illuminati" to put the link in the first paragraph. The amount of conspiracy theory sites I got was amazing. Go try.
Anyhow, I'm playing. I turn over a card, it's El Nino. It gives me +2 to destroy any group if I control El Nino. For some unknown reason, El Nino is Communist. How does that work? It was funny. Really.
As hurricane Charlie headed toward us, I had a moment of clarity. El Nino may be Communist, but Charlie was Republican. Charlie gathered strength, beat up Cuba just enough to keep them scared, and then headed straight for Key West. After beating up the commies and the gays, like any good Republican, Charlie went to Fort Myers to start his retirement. He pissed all over the streets there, beat up the poor people for being poor, and then died.
At least El Nino is an equal opportunity oppressor.
What's funny is when I started this entry I googled "Illuminati" to put the link in the first paragraph. The amount of conspiracy theory sites I got was amazing. Go try.
Anyhow, I'm playing. I turn over a card, it's El Nino. It gives me +2 to destroy any group if I control El Nino. For some unknown reason, El Nino is Communist. How does that work? It was funny. Really.
As hurricane Charlie headed toward us, I had a moment of clarity. El Nino may be Communist, but Charlie was Republican. Charlie gathered strength, beat up Cuba just enough to keep them scared, and then headed straight for Key West. After beating up the commies and the gays, like any good Republican, Charlie went to Fort Myers to start his retirement. He pissed all over the streets there, beat up the poor people for being poor, and then died.
At least El Nino is an equal opportunity oppressor.
Friday, June 18, 2004
Computers -> Source of all Evil?
So I have a friend who says computers are the source of all evil and she "Tries not to use them and stay away from them" because someday they will "take over and kill us all."
Once you get past the overall paranoia, she makes a couple good points. Fewer and fewer people know how to do Math. Fewer and fewer people can think on their own. Fewer and fewer people actually have Cash in their wallet. What happens in 2036 when all the ATM's crash because they don't have enough date spaces (like was supposed to happen in 2000)?
Most wouldn't think this, but in many ways I agree with her general idea of computers=bad. I think that they are contributing to a degradation in society. That may seem a little strange coming from someone who's built derWeb from the ground up (and countless other geek projects) but I have my reasons. While I do use computers In just about everything I do I really don't rely on them like many users these days do- the computer is an outlet for my brain, something for my brain to learn and play with, not a substitute for my brain.
But I am a little ahead of myself here. Before one can really say computers as a whole are bad, one must define the word computer which is becoming much more difficult. Traditionally, the word has been defined as some kind of machine that takes more than one input and provides more than one output. Using that definition, the mechanical computers and adding machines of days gone by can be easily included in the term. Unfortunatly so can many other items. A hammer produces two different outputs from two different inputs. Most people would argue that a hammer doesn't qualify though- but an electronic relay, which is little more than an overgrown light switch, would generally qualify.
I'm sorry, I don't see my car's turn signal taking over the world and killing us all (perhaps the Lack of a turn signal would cause some death). I don't think relays, electronics or even mechanical bits in cars and appliances are what my friend is worried about. She's meaning something else.
So the modern definition of computer is different from what we used to have. But honestly I don't know what it is now. Where is the dividing line between 'Tool' and computer? or are they one and the same?
I think what my friend is worried about is an invisible dependence on unknown tools. It's in human nature to become dependent, complacent, or take for granted a service or tool that is in place and works. In all cases, this human behavior causes risk. Complacent pilots crash, complacent construction workers cut their own fingers off, and people dependent on drugs (legal or otherwise) go into withdraw. I think it's a bit unfair to blame the tools.
My friend's got worries. And ok, I see those worries, there are many threats to society out there, and she's found one that has some real potential. But she's taking to fighting the technology invasion by hiding from it. That works pretty well to protect her, and her money-
but I often attack threats in a different way. I learn everything I can about the situation. If I was as worried as her, I think I'd learn everything I could about current technology, and where it's going- with a focus on finance. Knowledge is power- and when you know enough to take command of the threat, it just becomes another hammer on your shelf. A powerful tool that can be used however you see fit.
Once you get past the overall paranoia, she makes a couple good points. Fewer and fewer people know how to do Math. Fewer and fewer people can think on their own. Fewer and fewer people actually have Cash in their wallet. What happens in 2036 when all the ATM's crash because they don't have enough date spaces (like was supposed to happen in 2000)?
Most wouldn't think this, but in many ways I agree with her general idea of computers=bad. I think that they are contributing to a degradation in society. That may seem a little strange coming from someone who's built derWeb from the ground up (and countless other geek projects) but I have my reasons. While I do use computers In just about everything I do I really don't rely on them like many users these days do- the computer is an outlet for my brain, something for my brain to learn and play with, not a substitute for my brain.
But I am a little ahead of myself here. Before one can really say computers as a whole are bad, one must define the word computer which is becoming much more difficult. Traditionally, the word has been defined as some kind of machine that takes more than one input and provides more than one output. Using that definition, the mechanical computers and adding machines of days gone by can be easily included in the term. Unfortunatly so can many other items. A hammer produces two different outputs from two different inputs. Most people would argue that a hammer doesn't qualify though- but an electronic relay, which is little more than an overgrown light switch, would generally qualify.
I'm sorry, I don't see my car's turn signal taking over the world and killing us all (perhaps the Lack of a turn signal would cause some death). I don't think relays, electronics or even mechanical bits in cars and appliances are what my friend is worried about. She's meaning something else.
So the modern definition of computer is different from what we used to have. But honestly I don't know what it is now. Where is the dividing line between 'Tool' and computer? or are they one and the same?
I think what my friend is worried about is an invisible dependence on unknown tools. It's in human nature to become dependent, complacent, or take for granted a service or tool that is in place and works. In all cases, this human behavior causes risk. Complacent pilots crash, complacent construction workers cut their own fingers off, and people dependent on drugs (legal or otherwise) go into withdraw. I think it's a bit unfair to blame the tools.
My friend's got worries. And ok, I see those worries, there are many threats to society out there, and she's found one that has some real potential. But she's taking to fighting the technology invasion by hiding from it. That works pretty well to protect her, and her money-
but I often attack threats in a different way. I learn everything I can about the situation. If I was as worried as her, I think I'd learn everything I could about current technology, and where it's going- with a focus on finance. Knowledge is power- and when you know enough to take command of the threat, it just becomes another hammer on your shelf. A powerful tool that can be used however you see fit.
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