Sunday, August 31, 2008

Mystery Bulges

Sometimes when I walk across the carpet, there are disconcerting little bulges that feel quite strange under my bare feet. The bulges come from the ancient carpet coming unglued from the floor. Every time I step on one I think briefly that I've just stepped on a hamster or some other kind of little furry thing.

Saturday, August 23, 2008

I think there's some good stuff down in the bottom

There's several big recycling dumpsters near my bank. This morning I dumped off some glass bottles and aluminum cans after hitting the ATM machine. The mixed paper dumpster caught my eye as I went past. I stood and looked down into it at all the various bits of paper, strangely desperate to see something interesting. I wondered how much porn was in there. The closest thing to porn I saw was a couple of Adam and Eve catalogs. I didn't touch any of it. Pulling a crusty porno mag out of a dumpster isn't really something anyone should in their right mind should ever do.

Antithesis of funky

The second in command of the machine shop said to me yesterday, "It's Friday! Going to get funky?"

"Yeah, I'm going to get funky," I deadpanned.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Laptop Redux

After too long a wait, I finally took delivery of my replacement laptop. So far, it hasn't died once. Yippee. I was even able to watch streaming porn on the couch like a real American!

So, what's my take on Vista Home Premium? (Or whatever the hell it's called.) Well, it works. The main annoyance I have is with the nagging. I know it's a security feature, but it's still annoying. The other thing that annoys me is that Microsoft went and renamed stuff that's been the same for many years. I don't like having to dig around for things that are suddenly called something else or have been placed in some other mysterious location. So my take on Vista? It works. But my main complaint isn't with Microsoft at all, it's with Hewlett-Packard for loading all that crapware on the system. Bite me, HP.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Tiny House

I want a tiny house. Of course I could never successfully live in one of these things for very long because of my pathological urge to accumulate useless junk, but I'd still like to try.

Also, I could just see the tiny house ending up on its side after I went berserk because I bumped my head on a cabinet door or something. Or someone would steal it while I was out shopping. Bastards.

Of course, my tiny house wouldn't be like the one below.

Monday, August 18, 2008

Horror of horrors

nice shoes!, originally uploaded by Veronica Belmont.

Just when you thought footwear couldn't get any more freakish. I don't know how the photographer was able to resist the urge to stomp on this guy's feet.

The website's even worse. ARRGH!

Sunday, August 17, 2008

"Having eliminated the Nazis threat, Rita now faces the prosaic dilemma of earning a living."

Ah, spam. Mostly it's an annoyance, but on occasion it can be a genuine treat. Granted, it's a weird treat, but a treat still.

I used to keep a webmail account just for scam emails, but I got so much of that it overwhelmed me and I quit even logging in. Eventually, the account went dormant and I lost all the email in it. No big deal. I recently began checking the account once again and the scam email and other weird stuff is once more coming in at a regular pace.

My favorite subject line for an email ever is shown below:

Yes, it's just a quote from Futurama, but it's still funny. Sadly, the email was just the typical boner pill nonsense.

Even stranger are the emails that use random text to foil spam filters. Sometime this text comes from actual works of literature and other times it's just produced by a markov generator. The non-markov stuff interests me because I simply want to know where the hell it comes from. Mostly it seems to be public domain books from Project Gutenberg, but sometimes it's from someplace else. I often find myself pasting swathes of text into Google to find its origin. (What I'm trying to say here is that I have no life.)

An email I got today had a truly bizarre chunk of text in it about Hitler:
Hitler gasped for air. His left handheld a glass jar over the head
of his penis. Hisbody suddenly spasmed againstthe plush of the
soft leather couch. A primeval screampartially suppressed
through clenched teeth resounded through the room. The sound
was deadened by the rich tapestries that coveredthe walls of
the semi-dark office.

Still breathing heavily, theleader of the ThirdReich held the jar
up to a light and studied the sticky substance slowly sliding down
the insides of the container. He stood, screwedthe cap into
place and set the jar on his desknext to the untouched
photographs of nude women in various provocative poses. He
forced his still semi-erect penis into his pants andbuttoned
his fly.

He looked down to see if his clothes were in proper array.
Satisfied, he bent over and picked up the picture of his mother
that had fallen from his lap during the final moment ofecstasy.
He slid the pictureinto the insidebreast pocket of histunic
making sure it was deeply seated. He then presseda buzzer
and left the room.

Moments later, Colonel Ludwig Schmidt, wearing the uniform
of the elite SS guard, enteredand gathered the photographs.
He placed them in an envelopethat had been lying onthe desk.
The envelope was marked "TOP SECRET"in bold red letters
across its front and back. The Colonel then took the jar and
placed it in an insulated steel cased boxpacked with dry ice.
He closed the cover andsecured it with a heavy brasslock.

From his pocket he removed a smallcandle and cigarette lighter.
After lighting the candle he held it so that the hot wax dripped
into the keyhole and the surrounding area of the lock. He then
pressed the face of a signet ring he was wearingagainst the still
soft wax. He then left the room taking the envelope and the box
with him.


The submarine's periscope cleaved thewarm waters of the
CaribbeanSea exposing no more than two feet ofcamouflaged
metal above the lapping waves. It slowly rotated, scanning the
horizon through the splash caused by the mildtropical winds.
The bright moonlight made the lonefreighter on the horizon
stand out in bold silhouette.
"Down periscope," the Captain said,smartly folding the handle
bars. He turned to the young blondmilitarily erect >man dressed
in ordinary seaman's clothes and said,"Come Colonel Schmidt,
let us go to my quarters and go overthe plans for transferring
the personnel to the freighter."

Sitting at thesteel planning desk in the cramped quarters the
Captain faced the Colonel and said, "It is no secretthe war is
going badly. The Allies are dominating the sealanes and I have
grave doubts about myability to get this sub and its crewback
to the Fatherland. It is one thing to die for the Fuhrer inbattle;
it is quite another to play nursemaid to a dozenpregnant women.
Can you not tell me as officer toofficer what this is all about?

I promise you the informationwill go no further than within this
room. It would make our fate more bearable if I knew the
sacrifice was ofconsequential importance." The Colonelstudied
the submarine's Captain across the desk beforeanswering.
"The twelve women are pregnant with theFuhrer's children."

The Captain sat dumbfounded. Finally he said,"Gottimhimmel!
How is it possible? All twelve? Why arethey on this U-boat?
What is this all about?" As he startedto speak, the Colonel's
voice rose from low key to a hysterical crescendo."As you
observed, Captain, the war is going badly. OurFuhrer is a
brilliant man. He sees far beyond the immediacy of today's
battles—won or lost.

He plans only for the ultimate domination of this globe by pure
Aryans. The twelve women represent thebest of German
womanhood, each the purest Aryan. Each selected forbreeding
qualities of health and intelligence. Eachfrom families that bore
predominantly male offspring.
“Through the use of eugenic selection and artificialinsemination
it is the Fuhrer's plan to father achild in his own image.
A child who would possess his genius and determination.
That child will be raisedin America and ultimately rise to a
position of power. InAmerica he will plant the seeds that will
mature into the Fourth Reich. He will become—The American Fuhrer.
You ask, what the hell kind of crap is this? Well, it's a novel called The Jewess by someone named Jerome Parks. He has a website. It's quite something.

I know I've just quoted a ridiculously long piece of prose, but at the risk of angering Mr. Parks, I'm going to quote his insane synopsis of his novel:
Rita Adler, (The Jewess) working as a typist, develops Carpal Tunnel Syndrome. She enters a Worker’s Compensation Program and is re-trained to be a systems computer analyst.

She obtains a job in an optometrist office as the computerized records manager. Located in Washington, DC, the optometrist has senators and Supreme Court judges as patients.

During the course of her employment, the optometry office installs a high-tech eyesight testing device. Rita studies the workings of the device and realizes it simply combines the technology used by most cameras to measure distance with a computer that analyzes the physical change of the eyeball shape when focusing at different distances.

Rita finds a computer program that lets you act as your own psychiatrist. She gets the idea of combining it with the eye measuring device so that the eye’s reaction to various scenes used by the device can be interpreted as a psychological reaction.

Werner Schmidt, the leader of the neo-Nazi movement in America, is one of the optometrist’s patients. Rita tests Werner’s eyesight using the new testing device. She adds in a series of scenes to determine his psychological profile. She does this to satisfy her curiosity about Werner whom she finds physically attractive.

Werner and Rita go on a date. They both have deep-rooted sexual aberrations. Rita had a trauma as a child that left her unable to have sex—she's still a virgin. Werner also had a childhood trauma that left him unable to have sex with other than a virgin. Rita knows about Werner's sexual aberration having seen it in his psychological profile. This knowledge enables Rita to totally captivate Werner to the point where he obsesses over her.

Colonel Ludwig Schmidt, is Werner Schmidt’s foster-father. He had been commissioned by Adolph Hitler, to raise the infant Werner, in the United States for the purpose of Werner becoming the American Fuhrer. The Colonel is shocked when he learns of Werner's infatuation with a Jewess. He probes the acts that Werner had in Rita’s presence and figures out that somehow Rita learned of Werner’s sexual hang-ups through the use of the eye tester device. When Werner realizes that Rita had exploited his sexual hang-ups, he becomes infuriated and vows vengeance.

Werner embarks on a vendetta against Rita. He trashes her apartment smearing racial hate slogans in red paint over her walls and furniture. Terrified, Rita goes underground. The Colonel locates her in a motel where she's hiding and subjects her to an erotic lesbian experience that frees her from her sexual hang-ups. He does this so that Rita will become sexually promiscuous and no longer attractive to Werner.

The Colonel and Werner need the password to Rita's computer so that they can get the psychological profile of the senators and judges who had their eyes examined by the eye tester device. They plan on using the information for political gain. Believing that Dr. Schulman, Rita's boss, has the password they need to access the eye tester files, they viciously torture leaving him blind.

When Rita learns of this she feels an emotion that she’s never experienced before—an urge for revenge. Using the information from Werner's psychological profile, she creates a plan that will make him experience the most horrible terror imaginable. The result is that Werner is reduced to a vegetable state.

The Colonel, now seeking revenge against Rita, for what she's done to Werner embarks on a cat and mouse game to locate her. Rita sets up a counter plan to entrap the Colonel. It succeeds and the Colonel's entire neo-Nazi network is destroyed.

Having eliminated the Nazis threat, Rita now faces the prosaic dilemma of earning a living.

Rita contacts the CEO of the corporation that manufactured the eye testing device and induces him to give her a contract to service the eye testing machines being used by optometrists throughout the country.

Rita reunites with an old friend, Muriel who worked with her when she was a typist. Between the two of them they set up a service organization that nets them enough money to live a luxurious life.

Rita uses the files from the devices she services to gather information about people's opinions. She starts a corporation whose purpose is to take polls. Because she has access to the computer-generated opinions she is able to do marketing predictions faster, cheaper and more accurately than any of the existing companies.

Rita meets with the CEO of the giant corporation that dominates the poll taking industry. They become sexually and romantically involved. Then they become competitors during the presidential elections.

The CEO of the corporation that manufactures the eye testers cancels the contract with Rita, essentially putting her at a business. She is forced into bankruptcy.

Rita and Muriel have to live in a one-room dump and take jobs as waitresses to make ends meet. Rita goes into a state of depression. Muriel comes up with the idea to sell to their former adversary in the poll taking business, the secret of how she was able to outperform them. Rita takes the proceeds from the sale and plays the stock market. By leaking information anonymously she's able to control the value of the stock she has purchased. Once again she is wealthy.

Rita induces the manufacturers of the eye testing machines to sell franchises. She buys the franchise for Europe. She and Muriel now live in an exotic condominium on the French Riviera. Now experiencing all the material things that life offers, they contemplate; what is the meaning of life? Why are we here? Together they come to a surprising conclusion.
This is only a 60,000 word novel? That's short. How in the hell can someone cram so much convoluted lunacy into 60,000 words. I'm actually debating whether or not to actually buy this book. Hell, there's even a Kindle version available on Amazon.

This post is long enough, I guess. Bite my shiny metal ass.

Friday, August 15, 2008

Award-winning food

Today at work I got dragged to an out-of-the-way BBQ joint at lunchtime. While we were sitting there waiting for our food, one guy said, "You can tell a restaurant's gonna have good food when they have trophies."

I turned around and saw a display of a half dozen or more trophies each with a gold pig or chicken on top.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Strange jingoism

Today at work I noticed an odd t-shirt someone was wearing. It featured the word America in Germanic letters over a mounted deer's head with a stars and stripes motif. I guess whoever this shirt would appeal to would quickly understand and appreciate the dual hunting/patriotism message, but to me the design looked like someone had shot America and mounted its head on a wall.

Saturday, August 09, 2008


I found the above $20 bill last week. I know the Miccosukee are an Indian tribe, but I didn't know where. For some reason I wasn't expecting them to be in Florida.

Exciting, no? No.

Thursday, August 07, 2008


Why are the two new temps at work making fifty cents an hour more than I currently make? And I'm not even a temp anymore.

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

Please kill me

My computer's over four and a half years old. It works, but it's a bit long in the tooth and I wanted to get a new one. Some of you have been around long enough to remember what happened the last time I tried to buy a computer. Surely, nothing bad would happen if I bought a computer now.

I searched over a period of several months for a suitable replacement machine. For a while there I planned on buying my first Mac, but then decided against it because Macs are just too expensive. Even their cheapest model is too damn expensive. $400 and you don't even a get a keyboard or mouse? Bite me, Steve Jobs. Apple's clearly only interested in selling to yuppies. So decided to get another crappy Windows system (that I could run Linux on).

But do I get a Vista system or an XP system? Since I'd been using XP for over four and a half years, I wanted something new, but Vista had a lot of bad press. And do I get a desktop system or a laptop?

But enough of this palaver. Last week I ordered a refurbished HP laptop with Vista on it for $550. Yesterday, much to my surprise, the thing was waiting for me after I got home from work. My first new laptop!

Vista was kind of annoying, but I could use it just fine. Quickly I was wireless on the couch! Watching streaming video! And it wasn't even porn! Then the fucking thing conked out.

After a reboot I was informed by a very irate Vista that I'd shut the computer down wrong. Later it conked out again. And again. It didn't matter if it was running off batter power or plugged into the wall; the thing would just die. So I bought a lemon.

Right now it's in the hands of UPS. I sincerely hope they back a truck over it or something. Or accidentally fling it into a wood-chipper.

Who knows how long I'm going to have to wait for a replacement. Or even if I'll get a replacement. My luck they'll check it out and it will work perfectly. Then they'll just send it back.

The lesson I learned? Don't get out of bed. Ever. Better yet, go live in a cave and reject society altogether.

Sunday, August 03, 2008

Why was this ad in the sidebar of my Gmail account?

Hooter Hiders? I thought the ads were supposed to at least be vaguely associated with the content of the specific emails? This ad appeared beside an email from Amazon about the two Joy Division CDs I'd just ordered.

Saturday, August 02, 2008

Hey, get your own name!

I was playing with the new (somewhat crummy) search engine, Cuil, and found this while looking for my own blog. Grrr!