I'm... intrigued.

Linux, to me, looked like it catered more to the enthusiast. The tinkerer. This perception is probably why not a lot of devs cater to the Linux crowd, at least, not the major ones. Epic and id have usually been good about source-codes and such, and, with the Linux release of Prey, things have usually been pretty steady on the FPS front. But really kickass non-FPS games seem few and far between.

2D Boy games seems a bit different. Their game, World of Goo, was already released on the PC and Mac platforms, albeit with a bit of a problem.

http://gedece.blogspot.com/2008/11/call-to-gnulinux-community.html

I can't say whether I'll buy it or not. This kinda fucks me up a bit since I already use Steam under Wine. But I'll give the demo a go, at least.

I'm A Deadbeat

People constantly question me and my disinterest in obtaining my driver's license. Everyone wants me to have the damn thing. I suppose I'll have to get it eventually, so it's not a question of "if", but "when". I haven't gotten it yet for a variety of reasons.

The first and probably biggest reason would have to be my apathy. I just don't give a shit, frankly. I don't have any reason to drive, so I'm not going to. It doesn't bother me that much. I take that back. It doesn't bother me at all. Usually, there's a ride available to me wherever I want to go. If there isn't, I walk. A couple weeks ago, my ride never showed up. So I made the seven mile walk back. I felt pangs of bitterness and spite within me, but I didn't give a damn. Because I knew what I was doing. People shouldn't have to worry about me walking, because I tend to handle myself rather well. Oh well. About a two hours later, I was home. Starving as I was, I made a pizza. A meat-lovers, which should say something about how hungry I was, because I'm not a fan of the meat-lovers. Enough bitching and moaning about pizza. A knock at the door, and I'm holding the knife I was cutting the pizza with in a death-grip.

"Who is it?"

"Police."

Shit.

I threw the knife across the room and opened the door. Part of me already knew why they were there, but I went through the motions and said, "How may I help ya officers?" They asked if I was ****n *****d. I said I was. They said that I was missing, which was news to me because I didn't know I was lost. Perhaps it is always surprising to my mother that I make it home without getting raped in twenty different ways and left lying in a ditch. Needless to say, we sorted it all out in a matter of minutes and the officers were nice enough to contact my family since we didn't have a phone (we've since rectified that.) As it turns out, my mother had sent a rather incompetant fellow to get me. After getting explicit instructions, he went the wrong way entirely and they had been looking for me for hours. Whatever.


The second reason why I don't drive is because other people scare me shitless. Things are funny because they're so true and that's why people laugh when George Carlin talked about not fucking with the ghost car. How do people like that keep their license? Ugh. Bastards having five conversations on their cell phones and gnawing on their McMuffins, cutting across eight lanes of traffic makes my hair stand on end. Hell, whenever someone hits the brakes inordinately hard, my fucking heart seizes up. Goddamnit. I'm afraid that I'll over-react in situations like this, and I've already demonstrated it by figitting about ceaselessly. I know the rules, like avoid Lincolns and Mercurys like the fucking plague, but I still am terrified.

Lastly, I just can't afford it, to be honest. It's not the car itself. I have more than a few family members willing to give me an automobile, which I'm incredibly thankful for. I can't afford the gas or the insurance. Really. During the entire winter season, I only worked fifteen hours. That's because I work at a golf course AND I am a student. School cuts into it. I can't work after school because the Sun thinks it's being funny when it sets at five in the afternoon. So the car would be languishing in disuse for three months while I would bumble about in boredom and poverty.

I don't want to drive because it's just another goddamn nuisance. It's not a statement on the environment. It's that I'm lazy and completely irresponsible.

The Guitar Face

The Smoking Invalid

will be the title of my book, I have decided, (much against my own advice.) The original title was going to be "The Only Rainbows I Like Are Green and Black" but that's too goddamn artsy for a book title. Besides, I think that it'll be a better story title. For those not in the know, it'll be a book of short stories. My own. Perhaps others. I've got know idea. Probably just mine; I like to control too much. But that also makes me a perfectionist, making being my own editor fairly easy. The book's not going to be cosmetically fancy, probably with a blank cover, but there will be illustrations within relating to the stories. I'd like to thank the artists that have helped me out already and I look forward to more kicking ass in bringing my stories to vivid colour.

Also, the book will be printed, but I'll try and see if I can shoehorn it into a .pdf. At the very least, it'll be released as a zipped txt with the associated imagery. FOR FREE! So those of you I don't happen to know in internet-land are more than happy to enjoy it. It'll also be Copylefted, with the stipulation that the original work may be altered in any way shape or form, for whatever reason, be it commercial or your own perverted amusement, as long as you give credit to No.1: your's truly.

So that's all the news I have for now, that and my computer's LCD is cracked in a bazillion different places, so my rough drafts and ideas are being held hostage on a head-less beast. I'll find a way around that, however. Methinks I can hook up an external monitor to it without too much effort, but only time will tell. Fortunately, most of the ideas are still in my head, me having not written most of them down.

And Grislygus, the piece I recently commissioned you for is pivotal and I can't stress that enough. That's not to say that the other artists, (Sacks & Co.), are worthless. It's just that your art-style would fit the bill perfectly.

Namaste.

Lemme hit you with some knowledge.

HI-O!

A little while ago, I decided to come up with some of the only advice you might ever need. While far from complete, it should provoke in you a need to inform other people about your mistakes and failures as a human being.

Don't fuck the children.

To be completely honest, it's just too easy. Generally it's not worth it, either. I don't have the fetish, so I'm free.

No suicide.

Life's throwing you curve balls because it doesn't want you to win. Beat every kick life gives you and work your ass off. Persevere, and you'll have nothing to regret. Besides, your ass'll be dead soon enough. If you really have a hard-on for the ethereal plane, pray for a mad gunman or something. I was watching the news the other day and a man started sawing off another dude's head on a bus while Other Dude was sleeping. Apparently, he didn't have a reason. That other dude could be YOU!

Give cheaters the answers.

It'll be all the sweeter when they're found out to be as inept as they truly are. Bonus points if you make up shit. I was never that creative, sadly.

If it's one thing, it's a lot of things.

This is a personal favourite. I think everybody's had days where every fucking thing goes shithouse crazy. You'll come to notice that if one thing seems to go wrong, a whole wealth of goddamn things will. Most of the time, these things are completely unrelated and drive you up a wall. Thankfully, you can take solace in the fact that such things are likely to happen again tomorrow. Aahhhhh, the gift of foresight.

Never presume someone will be able to do something for you.

This is an especially big one for me. It was instilled within me by my mother. Never ever expect that someone will be willing or able to help you. It is incredibly rude of you to expect something from somebody without any regard to their lives or plans.

No inane bullshit.

I went to the Schlitterbahn waterpark recently (about nine rides and all of them are a pile of ass and a two hour wait.) As we were waiting in line for some generic waterslide, visible was a giant fake glass of Coca-Cola. It's a thinly veiled advertisement in the guise of a "soda straw" slide. Anyway, fucking huge glass of Coke sitting right in front of us. There was a guy and what I suppose was his girl with him. He would eventually remark of giant Coke, "Boy, that sure makes you thirsty, huh? chortle chortle"

HAH-FUCKING-HAH.

I wish I could think of such things.

Here's what I really mean: Don't make conversation. Why the fuck would you want to force discourse with someone? If the conversation is there, the opportunity to contribute will present itself to you. Don't hurt the people around you with your retarded babble. I've come to understand the ladies enjoy stupid statements such as the one above. I haven't the faintest idea why. Perhaps I'm destined to be alone because I refuse to change myself for someone else. I wouldn't want anyone like that anyway.

If I had to act like that, I'd rather kill myself.

Use your cool.

I've said this before, but if you want something, distinguish yourself. Do what you know. At first glance, this would appear to conflict with my "there is no such thing as individuality or being special" philosophy, but the goal here is to do what you like to do better than someone else, i.e use your cool. This can apply to any goal. A job opening, finding a girl, winning at stuff. If, at the end of the day, you find yourself unable to compete with another, it's time to cut your losses and give up. I'm sorry. Get better, you unskilled twat.

Don't try too hard.

Goes hand-in-hand with No douche-chill statements. Not only does it make you look bad, it makes everyone that knows you look bad as well. Ex: "I don't think I'll ever be the same way since Jessica tried to stab me that one time. Making love will never be as fulfilling." ..... "Who invited that guy?" Albeit, if you are not that guy, it puts you in the Good Cop position in the Good Cop/Bad Cop scenario , which can sometimes work to your advantage.

Don't eat glue.

Self-explanitory. You're not in kindergarten anymore, Walt.

Introspection is necessary.

Occasionally, I like to envision myself being drawn out of my body and pulled above me, so it can put me in a position of objectivity, a different perspective. If I see myself heading in a direction I dislike, I right myself. Admit when you fuck up, if only to yourself. Also, going back and reviewing situations can give you insight into what other people were doing that you didn't pick up on at the time.

For instance, I was in a car accident a couple months ago. Multiple cars, damage irreparable to one of them. It wasn't incredibly dangerous in retrospect, (thank you, Fiberglass God), but it could've been incredibly worse. It was all friends, one car behind one another. Some bastard was delivering a box full of rice and decided to stop abruptly in the middle of the road in order to decide where to go. One car smashed into another. There was another car behind us, thankfully not too close. We leapt of the car, as you should do in the middle of traffic. I got fluid in my McDonald's milkshake. I was pissed and full of adrenaline, so I threw it at a building. The car behind us stopped. It also belonged to a friend. Out popped him and another friend, a girl, to she what was up. I saw she was crying. She was so worried that we could've been hurt. I knew I had to be the guy to reassure everyone that everything was alright. I played it off all macho-like: "YEAH, we're fine. No problem." I was talking too fast and I couldn't sit still.

If I could change that day, I would've held her and not stopped until they had to pry us apart. I would've done anything but what I actually did to make her feel bettter. But I still missed the boat. Hindsight may be 20/20, but it sure doesn't help me now.

Know what you have to do and live with your decisions. You did what you that was best in that given situation, so don't live kicking yourself over it. Just know differently for next time.

Give your children real names.

And it comes full circle back to kids. Clifford is not a real name. Bertram is not a real name. Cody is not a real name. Dakota is not a real name. Eli is not a real name. Adrian is a stupid name. For more information, review George Carlin's schtick on names. I was cursed with Dylan, but not the terrible Dillon. BLECH. Yeah, Welsh isn't good to me either but there's still only one real way to spell it. Also, it's a fact that you will dislike someone with the same name as you, but usually only if it's spelled the same way.

This appears to be all the advice I have for the time being. I'm sure I'll come up with newer ways to tell you how to live your life, you miserable, lost fucks. My parting advice is simple; it's more of a command than anything else. Be inelegant.

Namaste, babes.

Man, oh Man. I'm Feeling Unwell.

Friends of mine know I have perodic bursts of inactivity and depression. This is when my facade of happiness with myself and my sarcasm fall in on themselves, revealing a deep, seething hatred for the world. Why does it have to be so goddamn boring? Why must I play the Game? Why must I be that way? Why shouldn't it just be the music that matters? Well, there comes a time when one must face said music. it's a cruel ruse. It's a momentary escape. Movies are escapes. Books. Stories. They're all alike. They fashion whimsical tales of adventure with easily visible villains, where the bad guy loses while good guy gets the girl and saves the day. Recently, it's been more of the anti-hero than a genuine one.

I saw the Dark Knight today. It wa a good movie. But for me, that's what movies are. I see through them. They are just movies. Their message of how justice is blind and somehow people rely on others to do what they find unsavoury for the "greater good" is pathetically boring. Brooding individuals may take solace in that, but I'm not one of those kinds of brooders.  The message of the Joker being alone in his mindset were only partially right. While no singular person is the harbinger of chaos, it's the little things that add up.

The business man that cuts off the mother of five on the highway, causing her to slam on the brakes, smashing the rear of her car into the front of the one behind her. The mailman that drops an envelope containing a paycheck or love letter and forgets about it because "it wasn't important." The neighbor that shoots your dog. The cousin in rehab after years of smack and theft from family members. It isn't just one man. It's the darkness in ourselves. Everything we do has an adverse effect on everybody else. Don't let someone else hurt you. If you don't want true evil to win, you can't let it get to you. If a store has tom close early, it was for a reason. And even if it wasn't, what would it matter? What can one do?

And I'm not just talking about morality, either. Story in general. Lives are boring and generally lifeless. There's no more room for adventure in the world. There's none left, either, so good thing. There is nothing left unexplored by humanity. We have infested every nook and cranny of this globe. What about man vs. man? Good vs. Evil. An intersting point. I've already said how there's no real villain in the world. But why shouldn't bad win? It's easier to be, certainly. But there isn't a bad guy to fight. If you can apply a face to bad, you can do the same to good and you've got yourself a movie. You never can, though. Life isn't that intersting. No one ever is either. The only excepton I can think of was Hitler, but he's been gone a while now. Inspiring as he is, people are hardly up to a similar task. So we watch. We read. We live vicariously through characters while reading or watching T.V. We know nothing else.

But I have the distinct sense of hope. Something odd is about to happen. Something extraordinary that will buck the trends. Normal things like oil crises or religious wars will stop as something will rear it's head, be it good or bad. Change is coming, foundation shaking change that will warp the way we interpret information and see life and all of its idiotic nuances. I wait for this day. Until then, I will continue my cycle of depression/kickassery and hopefully write something that means something, anything, one day.

Morphine

Somedaaayyyyy, they'll be a cure for pain.

Advice

Do what you love.

Make it cool.

Use your cool.

Make it good.

Namaste.

Belated News: Girl Talk's New Album is Out!

Granted, I'm a bit late, but the few reading this may not be aware of Girl Talk, much less his new album, "Feed the Animals." Mashups are nothing new, but they are unknown to many. My personal first experience with a mashup was more of a cut-up type; Sunday Bloody Sunday by rx. That was just the beginning. Years later, I've seen more artists and came to Girl Talk, probably the only mashup artist to sell albums on a larger scale with the most recognition. Illegal Art sells several albums from mashup artists to mad-samplers to copyright-tramplers. Not that that's bad in the least. They sell Girl Talk's albums and they feature his newest work, but this time's a bit different.

They've decided to pull a Nine Inch Nails move and made it a pay-what-you-wish album, to include free. I opted for free because I didn't have a Paypal account on hand. That doesn't mean I don't want to donate. Just not at the moment. I don't see the site going down in the forseeable future. Anywho, feel free to download the album from this link. It comes highly recommended from people like me and Jesus.

Yes, that Jesus.

So you are compelled to, unless you wish to disappoint Jesus. I don't think you'd like that.

VIDEO: GIRL TALK - OVERTIME



VIDEO: GIRL TALK - NO PAUSE



I'm partial to the opening track, "Play your Part (pt. 1)," but the No Pause track is pretty good as well.

Seriously, this whole album is fucking kickass and I command you to download it. Also, if this gets you into mashups, check out Mashup Town. Lotta great artists on there like DJ Schmolli, The Illuminoids, Morgoth, Clive-$ter, DJ Lobsterdust, Audiodile, and plenty other purveyors of bastard pop.

Namaste.

EDIT: Finally getting the hang of HTML.

Did You Know?

• Chevy Chase inherited a toilet fortune!
• Marlon Brando collected prosthetic hands before he died and would strike aides with them out of anger!
• Sylvester Stallone is ambidextrous and writes shorts stories about crime!
• Albert Einstein, famed scientist and part-time Amway salesman, had twelve wives!
  
• Nicholas Cage briefly held a Best Actor award in Malaysia before it was found that he was not actually Malaysian, but Swiss!
• Stephen Hawking sponsors a basketball camp for paraplegic youngsters!
• I had webbed toes as a lad!
• All-The-Way May really would go all the way.
• Gene Kelly beat Billy Blanks in a footrace across water!
• Stevie Nicks makes wicked punch!
  

What holds memories for you?

Is it weird that the song Baker Street makes me think of driving down the street of an abandoned town at 3 in the morning while it's raining? It's a very powerful song for me, because, when on extremely long family trips and at the end of one of these thirteen hour drives, Baker Street would always be on the radio as we pulled off at our exit and into town. I was usually the only one awake in the car, aside from my mum. I felt alone, though.

What's a song for you that brings back similar memories, that evokes strong emotion?

Geekery Moment: Via Nano Processor

For those more technically adept in our audience, you may be interested to know about a new processor. Yes, I know many of you may have already glossed over this and moved on to some other blog or looked at Mighty Mike's political mumbo-jumbo, but I will persist if only for my own intellectual masturbation.

Those that know what mini-itx motherboards are, know that they have their uses. Niche uses, to say the least. Many of the CarPCs utilize mini-itx motherboards in their designs. They are very small. However, more often than not, they are underpowered. To put this in perspective, your fancy dual-core monstrosity heatmiser is a Ferarri and a mini-itx based machine is a toaster. They're on completely different levels.

However, that is about to change with Via's release of their Nano processor. Like I said, geeky. But I wouldn't be true to myself if I didn't say "I can't possibly contain my excitement for this thing." Well, I can't possibly contain my excitement for this thing. I am raving mad, jumping up-and-down ecstatic about this. Why? Take a look for yourself.



I don't know of many computers that can run Crysis at any setting. Mine certainly can't. Apparently, that's what makes Crysis the go to for benchmarking a high-end system. It is that game. You know, when people are shopping around for a computer and the gamers say, "can it play xxxxxx game?" Well, Crysis is it. So I wait for this little wonder. But not on bated breath. I have much more prudent things to spend my money on. It is, however, a useful extravagance, yes? Anyway, you can find more elaborate details at Via's own page. They're expected to ship in the fourth quarter this year.

Namaste.

DEMS make me laugh.

Let's get some things straight first.....

1. My name is Michael Brown, it's nice to meet you.

2. When I say DEMS or Democrats, I mean the ones in office i.e. senators, presidents, etc.

3. I'm not a republican or democrat, parties make me feel obligated to a party instead of myself.

4. Uh, America rules.

5. I do not agree with everything in this video at Eyeblast

One of the wives in my dad's unit sent this around and I found it funny(especially Cone's comments). I'm not sure about the legitimacy about this video but hey, its fun, and it may change someone's mind; depending on if they believe in indoctrination.

New Ideas

I write a bit and I've been thinking about starting a "Bad Things Happen to Good People" series. I'm already started on the first story and, boy, it's a doozy. Look forward to reading it later on. I think I'll be done with it 'round tomorrow.

Namaste.

Pulseman

Megaman's a punk. >:(

Combining the speed of Sonic with the platforming and combat of Megaman, Pulseman breaks typical gaming molds thanks in part to Game Freak, creators of Pokemon. The art style is incredibly similar to the Pokemon games, especially in the character design. However, the gameplay is in it's own class and that is what makes Pulseman my favorite retro game to this day. It's on the MegaDrive.

Oingo Boingo

There's very little I have to say in regards to Oingo Boingo, aside from the fact that Danny Elfman is always brilliant and constantly scary.



When I lived in North Carolina, my mum found a copy of the Skeletons in the Closet: Greatest Hits of Oingo Boingo compilation and introduced me to Little Girls. Ceaselessly. In the time between then and now, I've gotten to know more of their discography and decided that Violent Love, On the Outside, and Elevator Man are my favorite songs, though they are most famous, (I suppose), for the song Weird Science. So check 'em out if you haven't already. A world of irreverent punk/ska/darkness awaits.

Vampire Weekend

Lately, there've been a few bands strikingly different to me that I can't help but love their sound. It was this way with MGMT about a month ago with me and, as a music lover, I am constantly on the lookout for another sound to listen to ceaselessly. As I was playing some Call of Duty 4 and listening to Opie and Anthony on XM Radio, I heard one of the spots for Esquire Magazine. On it, I heard a wonderful song playing in the background, which turned out to be (I believe) Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa.

Their sound reminds me a bit of Cake with some folky bits thrown in and an excellent set of vocals for good measure. Indie in the truest sense of the word, no doubt.

So, if you're into that whole sound, by all means, check 'em out.

The Something Store

Ever looking for something to waste your money on, but don't have the time to hove your fat ass down to Big Lots or some other large store full of cheap shit?

Well wander no more as the Something Store will surely have the right trinket for you!

~The Something Store~

With this magical offer, you can give them money, and they send you... something. Sounds a bit janky, no? Well, they have hundreds of satisfied and unsatisfied customers. The schtick is that you send $10 and they send something completely at random. It may be a duct tape wallet. Or it may be a Fossil watch. USB missle launchers also appear to be pretty popular. You'll never know until you get it.

Personally, I dunno if I'll do it. It seems like something exciting to do if ever you have some excess cash lying around. But if you have $10 just waiting to burn, then you might as well go for it all with $100, know what I'm saying.

So go ahead, buy from 'em. Looks fun!



Pic unrelated but totally phat.

Pockets and Shit

Yes, it's true. Even I use them. And whodathunkit? A rich celebrity blogger like myself, using his pockets. "Why do I bring this up?", you may ask. "Surely, rational individuals use pockets!" Well, you'd be right in that assumption. Rational individuals do use their pockets. Irrational individuals do not. They fill it with null, which is, coincidentally, the same material that 50% of their brain is made of, with the other 50% being Fruity Pebbles or some other gay breakfast cereal.

Why would anyone not use their pockets? Are they a fashion statement like babies? I see these idiot meatbags walking around school in their cargo pants, five-hundred pockets and not one of them being used. Yet their messenger bag is filled to the brim with all manner of stupidity to include some sort of notebook, gel pens, a copy of the Holy Bible, and a laptop (more often than not an Apple product of some sort.) Three of these things would fit excellently inside any of the pockets, but they need a damn bag for it all. There was a long time ago when pockets were functional, even necessary. Now, they are like the pancreas of one's apparel, utterly useless until there happens to be a problem with it. In that eventuality, one will need to operate, lest you lose change to that pocket forever.

MUHAHAHAHAHAHA. I'm wacky, aren't I?

At any given moment, most if not all of my pockets are filled to the brim with all manner of delightful things like pencils ,(OOOOOH), and money, (AAAAAAH.) Sometimes, I may be able to squeeze in the abnormally large paperback like The Adventures of Huck Finn or The Stand. So I duly keep my belongings in the pocket. Some pants, though, aren't made to have pockets. Like the ones I'm wearing at this very moment. The material is very slick, and, as such, my wallet slipped out of it and onto the bus where some individual picked it up, likely with the intention of returning it, but must've been mugged. I forgive them.

So, you neu-hippies can go to Hell for all I care or the equivalent: your local Hollister/American Eagle.

THAT'LL TEACH 'EM.

Mr. Wonderful

Mr. Wonderful was a man of habit. Because nothing quite says "wonderful" like order. He lived modestly, as most do. He went to work at Chromapage Photoworks where he developed film and meandered about for nine hours; the hours not spent working, reading.

Mr. Wonderful read all sorts of books, books about pirates, food, and wars. Books about vampires, killers, and bakeries. Mr. Wonderful was an avid reader, so much so that the librarians would invite him over to read stories to the young'uns. Mr. Wonderful would do so, and with great enthusiasm! He could make stories seem to come alive! And this is what Mr. Wonderful did every other day.

Monday was Mr. Wonderful's cleaning day. He was always excited the Sunday night of every week. Sometimes, he could barely sleep! Occasionally, there would be pieces of people lying around and his dog, Derwent, would find them.

Sometimes, Derwent would hide them and Mr. Wonderful would have to look for them later!

"Oh, Derwent!" said Mr. Wonderful.

Mr. Wonderful was usually careful to clean, being a man of habit. But sometimes, things got iffy, Like when Mr. Wonderful saw little Timmy Buxton watch him steam-clean the blood out of his drapes.

Timmy didn't know what he was seeing, but Mr. Wonderful was always careful, mind. Mr. Wonderful ran out onto the lawn with an old bat he had kept in the closet. Mr. Wonderful hadn't played baseball in years.

"Good afternoon, Timmy!" yelled Mr. Wonderful.

"Afternoon, Mr. Wonderful!" Timmy yelled back.

Timmy rode a few feet down the sidewalk before he caught a bat with the back of his head. Luckily, his skull absorbed most of the blow and caved inward. As Mr. Wonderful carried Timmy back into the house, a pulpy mess began to pour out of the back of Timmy's head and onto the yard and driveway. Mr. Wonderful's mother once remarked that that biting into someone's head was like sinking one's teeth into a ripe nectarine. Not wanting to dispute her on it, Mr. Wonderful took it as fact. In later years, Mr. Wonderful found this to be true. But that was neither here nor there.

Mr. Wonderful threw Timmy down on the couch and closed the drapes. He picked him back up and tossed him in the tub, breaking any bones left unbroken in Timmy's neck.

Mr. Wonderful wondered. He wondered about which tool was the best. Oh, he ad many; boxes upon boxes upon boxes. Boxes in the garage, in the attic, or in the closet. Everywhere. In the end, though, Mr. Wonderful decided on bolt cutters and a hacksaw, with some smaller tools picking up slack when needed.

Mr. Wonderful saw red as he began to tear into Timmy's flesh, shredding muscle and bone as he moved back and forth with the saw. Then, when Timmy was in sufficient enough pieces to handle, Mr. Wonderful took bolt cutters to the fingers and toes. The sound of a chicken bone snapping could be heard. Or maybe it wasn't a chicken bone.

Regardless, Timmy was really hard to identify by the end of everything. Mr. Wonderful tossed the leftovers in the fridge. Meanwhile, Derwent took off out the front door with a calf!

"No, Derwent!"

Derwent came back, reluctantly, and showed his dismay by scattering arms and legs in the backyard. Timmy was truly a boy apart at this point. Mr. Wonderful decided to take it easy from then on, and buried Timmy in several places. Around town. In the park.

Mr. Wonderful had to be careful.

Comments or questions are always appreciated. My words belong to me, (copyrights and such), however, any interpretations of the same story are more than welcome. Creativity is to not be stifled.

I don't need television.

At least the cable/satellite programming. I've slowly realized over the past couple of months that, upon subscribing to both DirecTV and XM Radio, I can pretty much do away with DirecTV entirely.

I'm a talk radio guy. It's a dying art. There are the ultra conservative blowhards and generic sportscasters and there are inspirational powerhouses like Opie & Anthony, Ron and Fez, and El Jefe and J-Dubs. There's a voice for everyone. And I can sit there and listen to them all day every day. Provocative radio, not these Morning Zoo wacky shows with sound effects out the ass.

And it's all I need. Granted, I enjoy the various movie channels and the like, but the vast majority of television nowadays is just catering to the lowest common denominator. The only exception I can come up with off of the top of my head is the Chiller channel, and it doesn't count because 90 percent of it is reruns anyway.

There's just nothing good on TV anymore. I'm more of a movie guy anyway.

Intel's Classmate/CTL 2goPC

Some years ago, there was a push to find a way to make computers easily available to those that would not otherwise have the resources to buy one. It was the plot of "The First $20 Million Is Always the Hardest," (good movie, by the way.) Of course, we're a ways away from holograms. Maybe not in the near future, though.

I digress.

Whether for purely ethical reasons or seeing the need to exploit an untapped market-- that of inexpensive this-is-all-I-need computing-- the chipmaker Intel put out a reference design for the Classmate PC. For the most part, it is designed to compete with Asus' EEE PC and OLPC's XO-1. According to some people's opinions, the XO-1 is floundering. The machine is brilliant, however. It's a classy piece of hardware reminiscent of those old V-Tech toy laptops with the monochromatic LCD display panel the size of a few postage stamps. It's got a handle and is incredibly durable, by all accounts. As a bonus; the third-world countries it's marketed to can use it to bludgeon potential food... Ahem, where was I?

The EEE PC, however is raking in millions, to the point where the EEE can be described as the Wii of computers with 50000x more quantity. It's also got an awesome fan-base that are some of the most helpful people when it comes to the EEE. The problem some people have, which will soon be eliminated, is that the EEE PC only cames with the Xandros distribution of Linux, something not many people are familiar with. Many people are warming up to it, though. Will Linux ever be the OS of choice? I hope not. It gives me that feeling of individuality, that knowledge you have that you feel someone else doesn't, some sort of secret.

Regardless of the operating system of choice, Asus had established itself in the ultra-portable laptop market before the released the EEE. Now they are a powerful name in the low-cost market as well. A version with Windows XP is to be sold later this month in stores and online, which will surely print money, as if it already doesn't.

But where does Intel fit into all this? While OLPC and Asus were making a lot of public noise over their portables, Intel was selling their reference design to several manufacturers in other countries like India and the like. Now, they're into the second generation of Classmate, which you should see in the picture above. CTL is putting it out as the 2goPC. It should be on sale through Amazon, if it isn't already. Supposedly, it's able to withstand the small drops and usual wear and tear a normal bookbag tossed about by a kid would take. That's probably the reason it's being sold to the education markets and the like. Pictures show it with a handle jutting from the back of it, I'm unsure of whether or not it is detachable or not. If it is, woohoo. If it isn't, well I can always cut it off. I don't have a use for it, personally. I've got a few bags I can use with it.

What's bad, though, is that I have a terrible penchant for gadgets. Always on the lookout for the next big thing. Right now, what I've got in my pocket is a Nokia n800 looking for a new home. To be quite honest, I thought it could fill in some of the holes that would normally be filled by a laptop. Really, though, it's just not up to snuff without a physical keyboard. My main mistake was that I thought it could replace a notebook entirely, but in reality it'd be a better companion device.

All this is jibber-jabber, though. So it's either the EEE or the 2goPC for me. I'll figure it out.

Mexican Mysteries!

You ever wonder what's in a taquito? I mean, I haven't had one in God only knows how long. It was like a Hot Pocket with half the deliciousness, a meaty crepe if you will. These are the kinds of foods you give to ailing people or those without tongues. At least they don't have the misfortune of actually tasting what they eat.

I'd wager that it's filled with ground vermin meat. The kind they find scurrying about near the vats of taquila. Rats with bad teeth, the rats that their rat brethren ostracize because they don't want to smell their breath. But those rats aren't really rat enough to tell the soon-to-be-snack-food ones that they don't want to be around them. It gets all sorts of awkward when they meet up in the walls at Christmas time. There've been lawsuits. You know, that whole rat-on-rat domestic violence thing that blew up in the news recently.

Regardless of the criminalities rattus, they are all the horrible for their meat's overall greasiness. I'll never eat a taquito as long as I live, slathered as it is in various cheese product.

BAH.

Pass me the churro, Paco. I'm feeling another night south of the border.