tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67094458020331248382024-03-08T04:05:22.411-05:00Tome of the Untold FigmentAn ongoing tale about a boy and his trusty accordion.Lynkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01975114018397839447noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6709445802033124838.post-34724971790676957832008-05-26T20:53:00.000-04:002008-05-26T20:55:54.011-04:00Little Death Wardens<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >A few days shy of one month ago, I had planned on documenting a fascinating article concerning the future of cybernetic implants and my goals of creating a extra-human species to transcend the commoners that take up what many would call "Meatspace." Unfortunately, a vile creature of horrible repute took siege and held fort upon my desk and prevented me from committing to my plans.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I hate spiders. Some people may fear snakes, and others fear public restrooms, and an even greater number of people fear quirky, comedic musicians. Almost not unlike Chuck Norris, I have but one fear. I will gladly tackle chain-saw wielding clowns with blood-stained hockey masks, disembodied alien-zombies that are also on fire, and even soccer-mom-esque female presidential candidates who lie and low blow. These things are weak, petty examples of the Universe's true evil; the arachnid.<br /><br />I understand that not all arachnids are spiders, but as far as the topic is concerned, and to allow for much easier identifying in a crisis, anything with eight fucking legs is considered a terrorist and will need to be escorted off my plane. Ever since spring has granted us warmer weather, these malevolent scourge-crawlers unearthed themselves once again from their dank, peccant dwellings. They take refuge upon my otherwise laboratory-style ceilings awaiting a small creature, such as a squirrel or an elk, to pass by so that they may feed. It is quite difficult to free an elk from the clutches of a spider with the help of only a Swiffer mop. You may derive from this imagery that my habitat has a slight infestation, but I promise you that is far from the truth. I've developed a weapon against them. While it's effectiveness is only temporary, it is also quick. Tilex Mold and Mildew is essentially a complete system of solutions for dealing with both shower scum and spiders, and leaves a fresh lime scent.<br /><br />One may wonder what makes spiders the Universal symbol for evil. I suggest that they were the foul creatures that caused the previous Universe to end, and that has yet to satisfy their thirst for destruction. This is merely speculation; another theory, known as Charlotte's Theory, suggest that spiders are trying to manipulate farm animals to hunt down humans and extract their bodily fluids. A side note of this theory also explains that spiders can reproduce hundreds of thousands of offspring without mating. How can a tiny creature produce yards upon yards of a nearly indestructible material, and why does it choose to weave it into satanical patterns? Obviously it is every spider's goal to summon firey demons from the black nether to rip the very fabric of space out from under us. Or they just really like the taste of elk meat.<br /><br /></span></span>Lynkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01975114018397839447noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6709445802033124838.post-61219019166409846112008-04-24T22:58:00.005-04:002008-04-24T23:49:49.709-04:00Rainbow Connection<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >My non-professional job experiences aren't just limited to discount grocery. For a short time of my life, I took up the most exotic, chic title known to mankind. That's right, I was a door to door salesman.</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Your mom or grandmother (depending on the reader's demographic) may have heard of the contraption I was employed to distribute. Let us hop into the Way Back machine, and bask in the events that lead up to this adventure.</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />The job market is a lot like a dismemberment competition. The more you prepare for it, the less chance you'll have of success. Using this analogy, college is much like lopping your head off. I had struggled for nearly a year searching for a local job that wasn't in the dog food industry. I received a BA in Fine Art, specifically, computer art, and tried to roll with it. Unfortunately, nobody wanted to hire someone with a background that consisted of education. During many interviews, I was told I was overqualified, and rejected. Now one might think that a Bachelor's degree isn't that big of a deal, but in my backwater hometown, it's a sure sign of witchcraft.<br /><br />At last I found a listing for an undisclosed job offering a highly disclosed amount of money per week. I jumped the proverbial shark to check it out, and was hired without an interview. Instead, the sales pitch was cast upon the half-dozen new recruits, and the brain washing began.<br /><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:78%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;"><img src="http://www.thevacuumcenter.com/images/e_r.jpg" /></span></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:78%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;">The Rainbow Clean-Air Cleaning System.</span></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:78%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;">Basically, that's a pretty way to say over-glorified vacuum.</span></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:78%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;">(Image courtesy of http://www.thevacuumcenter.com)</span></span><br /></div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />We were impressed. Of course we were impressed. Six sweaty guys in suits in the middle of summer in a tiny room in a small brick office will be impressed when presented something that removes odors from the air. After a couple days of intense training on the features of the Rainbow and it's ability to suck dirt, we were destined to enter the world of doorstep marketing. I gathered my first set of leads; neighbors, immediate family, and former teachers. With the exception of my mother, who vacuums four times a day, these leads were only allowing me into the house as a gesture of assisting me on my long road of salesmanship. Let's face it; nobody wants to pay for a $2,000 vacuum, with the exception of my mom. Nobody needs the Rainbow's patented separator device, which is essentially a grooved spinning thing found in most Lego Technic sets.<br /><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:78%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;"><img src="http://www.active-robots.com/products/lego/lego-spares/technic/turntable-250.jpg" /></span></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:78%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;">This is basically what spins the water,</span></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:78%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;">keeping the dirt from coming back out of the Rainbow. Fascinating, no?</span></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:78%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;">(Image courtesy of http://www.active-robots.com)</span></span><br /></div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />Beyond the overpriced hunk of reinforced carbon fiber, the sketchy and over-rehearsed sales pitch, and the way we gathered new leads by knocking on doors and signing people up for fake contests, the job was highly profitable. At least, that was what we were told. District meetings where someone with a fancy smart phone would brag about how wealthy he is captivated even the most unsuccessful Rainbow Sales Drone. Evidently, enough Rainbow Cleaners have been sold to make several people multi-millionaires. I even bought the idea myself. There were days where I came home with a thousand bucks stashed in my pants, but most of the time, my gain was less than zero. In that industry, you make nothing unless you sell. The eighty mile round trip to the office certainly wasn't rational on my behalf. I suppose I took some joy in knowing I couldn't get fired from such a job. Going home at night knowing you just put a family of Mennonites in severe debt is an extraordinary feeling altogether.<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span></span></span>Lynkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01975114018397839447noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6709445802033124838.post-66307734787555385752008-04-10T23:12:00.004-04:002008-04-10T23:32:01.010-04:00An Open Letter from the first Goomba<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >This open letter is both a means to connect with those out there who feel they have been stepped on by others, and to cast the public eye towards a situation that has been left widely unnoticed for far too long.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Dear Man with the Moustache,<br /><br />To me, the most critical thing in life is to be happy with what one has. About two feet tall, soft and brown, with a thick unibrow; I didn't have much to work with. Not to mention I suffer from a hereditary deficiency of sorts that leaves me with two unsightly fangs sticking over my upper lip. No dentist dares touch them, as they are impacted into the base of my brainstem. I live a quiet life, not entirely alone, but I often wander by myself, shuffling and side-stepping leisurely. I enjoy looking up at the clouds. They all look like big white bushes to me. I stay out of the politics of the world around me; I know a tyrannical turtle-dinosaur thing has been raking in a lot of votes. Most of my neighbors hail his name, I can hear them on the other side of the pipes clamoring on about how great this new revolution will be. I suppose my civic pride is not as strong, but the fact that these folks are spoon-fed Koopa propaganda from birth is a little unnerving. Frankly, I don't care what castle the princess is in, but I'd gladly let the next guy to walk through know if it would mean a little piece and quiet around here. I'm rambling again, I'll get to the point.<br /><br />I've got a nice plot of land, living at the edge of 1-1 Mushroom Way. I've got a few coins stashed away for a rainy day (or if I find an orthodontist who thinks he can help me with my fangs). I've got some neighbors to my right, but nothing but a vast beautiful expanse to my left. I hear nobody has even traveled that far down the path; I've been told for some reason that it's simply impossible. I was feeling courageous.<br /><br />I woke up early one morning, did my stretches, completed a crossword puzzle, and packed a sandwich. I was going to get the nerve to do what no Goomba has done before. I was going to shuffle to the left until the stage flagpole was hardly a dot on the horizon. It was time I made a name for myself. That's when I met… him.<br /><br />My attacker was eyeing me. Normally I would have nodded a kind 'good morning' to any stranger, but I felt very uncomfortable with his dastardly stare. I kept going, not knowing how to react otherwise. The path was narrow, and he was standing with his legs gated. Just the way he looked at me, I knew he hated me. You could see this immense anger in his eyes. It didn't matter who I was, there was nothing I would have ever been able to do to change his baseless opinion about me. Why did he hate me? Was I different? Has he never seen a Goomba before? Did I say or do something that could be translated into something that sour? I kept trotting, slowly, tapping my feet on the solid brick. That's when he started to run.<br /><br />I could see him clearly, as if time were slow and the air thick like tar. He ran at me, his red overalls (or were they blue? Goombas are very colorblind) kicking the air as he dashed in my direction. I could see his gritted teeth showing under his moustache. His intentions were ungodly.<br /><br />Tell me, what would drive someone to hate someone else so much without any provoking? Why does this exist in nature? Why can't we all be in this together? Life is hard enough with disease, carnivorous plants, and bottomless pits to be at war with one another, especially as individuals. I could hardly react to his swift and unexpected actions. He leaped in the air from nearly thirty feet away, and an instant later was plummeting down from the sky towards my head. He came at me with such an angle that his knee impacted the side of my soft, malleable head. Fortunately, Goombas are built to bump into things; a direct concussion from above or a hot flame can do us in without any hesitation, but we can take plenty of abuse from any other angle. The moment he made contact, he flew into a madman's rage. His red (or was it green?) hat flipped off his head as he waved his arms and legs in the air, and he propelled himself off the path down into the great unknown. I stood there, safe, but broken.<br /><br />Perplexed? Confused? Suffering from shock? For some reason or another, I drove that man into a blood-lusting rage. While his actions were unexplainable as much as they were incoherent, I still felt like I was at fault. Somehow, I made him that way. I should have done something different, I should have been something different. It has been tearing me up from the inside ever since. I've felt… incapable. I don't even feel like a Goomba anymore, as if I were just some object or soulless sprite. I just want to connect to other Goombas, or anyone for that matter, who understands, but I'm not sure if anyone does. Why would you shatter someone's life like this?<br /><br /></span></span>Lynkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01975114018397839447noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6709445802033124838.post-64182234602794664562008-04-07T00:30:00.009-04:002008-04-10T23:32:19.890-04:00When You're At the Bottom<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >I'm not one to say I've lived a very hard life. There are individuals who have not been as fortunate as myself, and they've developed their own backwater mutant society, where weight correlates to one's position in the hierarchy. While discovery and integrity push some of us forwards, those left behind seem to flourish in greater numbers with no hint of natural selection in sight.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I grew up in a very unforgiving town. Don't let the vast number of used car lots fool you; the advanced physics behind the wheel stirred the locals into a concourse of club-wielding banshees. They accepted television very quickly as their God, perhaps somewhat in fear, otherwise as an arbitrary piaculum. Just as long as they did not have to better themselves in any way, life was perfect as is. My hometown is much like the dark undercity of a corrupted metropolis, but without the buildings. Instead of motorcycles, the local street gangs were known to operate deer.<br /><br />For most, life was very simple. A parcel labeled "EBT" arrived monthly that was surprisingly not edible, but could be taken to the largest of burrows in exchange for Wonder Bread, Sour Patch Kids, and diet soda. It kept occupied the denizen collective, allowing the culture to assume a hunter/gathering tradition. They donned skins trapped from a burrow known as Wal-Mart, which they wore to the food burrows, where they exchanged the magical sliding money card for food. The most elaborate zoos couldn't simulate a more primeval environment. I played a role in this of course. Back then, I was essentially a part time zoo-keeper. I cleaned and maintained the most accessible of the food burrows; Save A Lot.<br /><br />Save A Lot is a large national chain that caters to shoppers who aren't too ashamed of their lot in life to go to a Save A Lot in the first place. Once inside, you'll find knockoffs to every branded consumable you can think of. Some product names are offensive, while others range from borderline racist all the way to Asian street vendor. You'll find no shame on Save A Lot's behalf with product brandings such as Bubba-Cola, Dr. Pop, Pinaz (an intoxicating carbonated pineapple simulation for your mouth, named using red-neck's argot for a word meaning "male genitals"), Almost Butter, and Bar-S "Practically no Toes" Hot Dogs. While these brands may cater to the NASCAR watching, rifle wielding, Looney Tunes attitude oversized t-shirt wearing crowd, don't be fooled; these products are made with love. And a small portion of factory worker hair.<br /><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 100px;" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/6/6f/Mountain_Holler.jpg/100px-Mountain_Holler.jpg" alt="" border="2" /></a></span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:78%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span>This is a prime example of Save A Lot's incredibly powerful audience-targeting initiative. Mountain Holler is known for it's diet Mountain Dew-like taste, but with a sustainable aftertaste that is similar to iodine. It is also clearly the radical citrus thirst blaster due to it's concentration of solar radiation. (Photo courtesy of http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Mountain_Holler.jpg)</span></span></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span></div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />For six years of my adolescence, I worked at Save A Lot. During the later half of my employment there, the store was handed over to a clan of new owners. All of the employees were fired and rehired, to bring forth some kind of feel-good relationship with the new overlords. A new nepotistical caste system was formed, granting rights to anyone of the Owner's bloodline or those who were performing secret acts of indecency for members of the Owner's bloodline in the back office, meat room, or produce cooler. While on the floor, I observed incest and gender-confusion among the customers. Inside the sanctity of the back room though, darker arts were performed. I'd use the technical term to describe them, but my editor tells me I'm not allowed.<br /><br />If you take a young Save A Lot employee and stand him or her next to a very seasoned marine, you will find that the Save A Lot employee is far better versed in watching old women scoop their own feces out of their pants and stash it behind a peanut butter display. A marine might not know how to effectively stop a man from pushing the cart return area across the parking lot with his station wagon. Furthermore, the Save A Lot employee knows who the terrorists will be as they walk in the door; subtle differences in stench offer many clues that no other occupation could train a person to pick up.<br /><br />It is because of these few, proud grocery store employees that my irrelevant hometown can sustain life and balance outside of the wild-game season. It turns out that the primates can in fact use applied knowledge to receive their food pellets in an organized manor. Science triumphs again.<br /><br /></span></span>Lynkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01975114018397839447noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6709445802033124838.post-65769932181130187492008-03-31T21:32:00.005-04:002008-03-31T22:52:34.673-04:00Rez Me<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >My one-man raid experienced a full wipe thanks to an accidental discharge of an area effect cast. It pulled some epic pats; I didn't hold up for long. Since I hate taking blame, and there were no Pugs around, I blame the faulty, cheating Mobs that are around every corner in the dungeon of life. With great fortune, the opportunity has inspired me to completely re-roll my toon. You may have no idea what I'm talking about, but if you do, my glee for you is substantial. So here I am, starting out with a satchel, a bedroll, some random crap that won't be any good to me before long, and an empty book. What will I encounter first?<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I woke up yesterday with the realization that I've been looking at everything the wrong way lately. My immediate conclusion to this was simple; anything that I don't have direct control over falls into the category called "retarded anyways." For example, gas prices? Retarded anyways. There's no need for concern at all. America's drastic recession? Retarded anyways. Youtube comments? The new Eminem Album? Fox news? Retarded anyways. Even the activation of the deadly Large Hadron Collider which will either tear the Earth apart and stuff it into a single atom or convert its entire mass into strange matter doesn't bother me, and that's merely a month away.<br /><br />With this new outlook, I realize how frivolous the rest of the world seems. I wonder how others don't come to grips with this. These days, there are so many words and ideas that are so hard for society to take. I'm looking at you, terrorism, Christmas, and nanotechnology. With so many subjects considered tongue-in-cheek, and so many drones trying to be politically correct, I feel my new point of view will cause some of the most entertaining controversy and I relish that idea. I'm pretty sure that means I pose a dangerous threat to modern society. The men in black suits will someday bust down my door and chain me to a desk to use my rogue ways as intelligence to find other assholes like me so they can be taken to the proper authorities and decommissioned. Even then, I will rename all my captors to "Susie" and discuss events I've held with their mothers.<br /><br />Of course, I assume too much. In reality I'll probably instead face either misinterpretation, or nobody reading this at all anyway.<br /><br />As I mentioned, I had this light-seeing experience yesterday. That is, yesterday of writing this. Of course, I'm sure I won't post it for another two days. It will sit on my hard drive and witness several virus scans before I decide to publish it on the Intertron. I'm far too important and handsome to not procrastinate. You're witnessing a full restoration of the Lynk. It will be a slow process, like a dot-matrix printer, or the waitress at Denny's. Everything in my life seems so much better now that I'm not taking it seriously.<br /><br /></span></span>Lynkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01975114018397839447noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6709445802033124838.post-83761944346072801572008-03-09T09:12:00.003-04:002008-04-21T01:24:02.983-04:00Nobody Told Me<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >I recently treated myself to The Orange Box, which claims with a quote from IGN.com to be "The best deal in videogame history." I cannot agree more. Nobody told me Half-Life 2 was so incredible. It sort of brought me back to the days of Red Faction, and I haven't played a good FPS on the PC since the latest Doom incarnation.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I'm still a little uncertain what to make of this world-wide-weblog. Don't expect a revelation anytime soon though. I'm running to the mall to wait in line for my preorder of Super Smash Bros. Brawl in just a few minutes, and it is likely nobody will see or here from me outside my habitat for quite some time.<br /></span></span>Lynkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01975114018397839447noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6709445802033124838.post-86710442559231051732008-02-16T23:22:00.004-05:002008-06-01T17:21:11.419-04:00I Have Lists<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >There's so much I've been wanting to talk about. Ray Kurzweil, Super Smash Bros. Brawl, Jack Thompson and his attempt to blame video games on yet another tragic shooting, my recent excursions to the laundromat… And while these topics may be very fascinating, I've been so busy scheduling my life that I haven't had time to do anything.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I'm beginning to see a pattern here. I can safely say one of my specialties is having no ability to dispatch my free time. Perhaps my discovery of Fark, Digg, and Youtube play a role in hindering my productivity, but I have no actual facts to back that up. I've started to build massive lists, tasks, and lifestyle elements to adhere to. My Outlook .pst file is probably nearing it's limit, despite the fact that I don't download my mail through Outlook. I enjoy having a managed array of structure in my life. It never keeps me from slacking off, but at least I get something done by the end of the day. I plan on buying a small filing cabinet with forty-three folders in it. Perhaps I've been holding onto these tiny quirks far too long. I've discovered that once I begin to delve deep into the world of calendars and tentative appointments and priority statuses, I become a tad bit obsessed. Due to a few follow-up tasks I put in one of my personal to-do lists, I've managed to get myself a new part time job, at the cost of a few hours of sleep. Throwing this all into an excel document, the results clearly state that I am screwed.<br /><br />Perhaps I am hatching into a yuppie. I do own a bluetooth earpiece for my fancy Windows Mobile Smartphone. Let's hope it is just a phase. I have scheduled an hour next Wednesday to ponder this, but I may have to move it… hold on, I've got to take this call.<br /><br />Before I head out for the night and face the cold to play for the townies on the icy streets of Oneonta, I'd like to drop a link to a fantastic site I first stumbled upon a few months ago. I've made it one of my dailies, and I hope you do too. Anchor Marta Costello sums up the day's <a href="http://gnooze.com/">Gnooze</a> (the G is silent) in about three minutes. Marta lays the news down in her own words (often through some of the best paraphrasing known to man) for a very fresh take on comedy news casting. I predict she will someday be the third installment of the Stewart-Colbert-Costello Trifecta that has been prophesized since the dawn of ages. This is what the Internet is all about, people. Check it out.<br /></span></span>Lynkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01975114018397839447noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6709445802033124838.post-10522738165158700672008-01-24T15:17:00.002-05:002008-04-21T01:26:12.196-04:00The Sexbox and the Unknown<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >An infection of sorts has recently been allowed to permeate my sinuses and has granted me time to add a little more content to this work in progress. Today I'd like to talk about recent happenings in the media, the fundamental flaws in investigative reporting, and I will wrap it up with a gentle story about family togetherness. Please scroll slowly to continue.</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">For the better part of human history, bored, hungry journalists everywhere have been collecting their spoon-fed opinions and publishing them in whatever media they get paid for. This has been growing and contorting outwards increasingly over the past several years. Experts believe that by the year 2014, all news broadcasts will consist solely of name calling, randomly generated phrases, and hand-picked target audience sensationalism. I researched this for forty seconds this morning while brushing my hair, so I know what I am talking about.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;">Over the past two weeks, the buzzword of the news has been the cleverly pieced-together moniker, "Sexbox." This crafted title is a play on words, combining the dangerous word "sex," with the word "xbox," which is also known as "orgasmic-rape-simulator" in the more uppity professional fields. Mass Effect, which came out months ago, is stealing the spotlight due to graphic content. Experts and reporters and people with doctorates have been up in arms over full, completely customizable porn scenes that children can direct and play out their most wild fantasies over and over again. I believe what they are talking about is the two minute love scene that, depending on your subtle actions throughout the thirty hours of gameplay, might flash the side of a boob for a few seconds. In otherwords, think VH1's spring break, only with dignity, and less side boob.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;">I am unsure who started this entire debate; my first exposure to this was the highly unimportant Kevin McCullough, a columnist for townhall.com. It appears the article no longer exists within that domain, and it is a pity, I would love to show you all how not to cast the news. McCullough basically made accusations about the "realistic sex acts" embedded in the game, including homosexual activity that may turn our god-fearing world inside out. What he didn't mention was his lack of research or his understanding of the situation. Of course, Penny Arcade linked to his article, and thousands (if not more) gamers flooded his inbox and comments. He later posted a rebuttal for the comments in his blog, insulting gamers with name calling, and best of all, comparing his lack of research to a "strip club at the end of the block or hookers knocking at the door." Lastly, he issued an apology for his baseless rant, although it wasn't very convincing.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;">Fox news displayed a <a href="http://news.filefront.com/mass-effect-misinformation-et-tu-fox/">panel of uninformed</a>, who's research consisted of a quick look at the Mass Effect website, verses Geoff Keighley, a game industry expert. Being Fox news, Keighley was only given a few sentences, while a psychology expert who again, had no experience and hardly any research under her belt, has the gall to call him "darling," after trying to push the dangers of sexism which aren't even relevant to Mass Effect. Frankly, I would be embarrassed if I went to discuss something I had no knowledge on for Fox News, but mostly due to the fact that I'd be on Fox News. Of course, the rest of the panel had no idea what they were talking about either, and passed the blame from one silly cliché to another. If a job could be that easy, I must be in the wrong industry.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;">It is very obvious that side boobs and naughty words and suggested themes and violence are training America's youth to be sadistic, murdering rapists. That part I am completely clear on. In fact, it's pretty obvious considering the fact that there had never been violence in the world until 1986, when Nintendo Entertainment Systems started to invade the homes of happy families. Oh wait, before that, the cinemas were blamed, and television, and rock and roll. Something must always be blamed to keep the little darling snowflakes safe.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;">In lighter news, I introduced my father to World of Warcraft. He has always been a fan of the Warcraft series (seemingly unlike most people who play World of Warcraft) and I think he is getting the hang of it. I've been playing on and off for a couple years now. I have several alternate characters, but my main is a loveable little gnome mage named Lynkmatic.<br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2021/2214743239_c5c2ee2d72_o.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2021/2214743239_c5c2ee2d72_o.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;">To celebrate my dad's arrival to Azeroth, I rolled Lynkovic, my gnome's evil warlock twin. I ran to the human starting area, predicting with accuracy that my dad would role a human warrior, and we did some questing before he decided to run off and explore on his own. It was fantastic.<br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2197/2215534872_2f789e1a2f_o.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2197/2215534872_2f789e1a2f_o.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />My mother, being a video game hater, is completely against the idea, and suggests the idea that Satan might have his hand in all of this. I believe she falls for everything Fox News tells her.<br /></span></span>Lynkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01975114018397839447noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6709445802033124838.post-42279443788250314472008-01-02T10:10:00.002-05:002008-04-21T01:26:38.236-04:00Lynk Vs. The Zeitgeist<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >I hope everyone had an ebullient, spirited, but unscathed New Years. Personally, I brought in the new year by incorrectly scripting "2007" on my last check. I also discovered I LARP after three Red Bulls and half a pound of cheese. Moving on.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I don't normally give myself resolutions for the new year. Too often have I seen friends suffer through a year due to their incredibly strong will and an honest-sounding resolution, e.g., giving up all foods with high fructose corn syrup. It is a very worthy endeavor, but you starve yourself in the process. I prefer to give myself quests, with a mission here or there for good measure.<br /><br />My first quest, as quixotic (I do hope you know that is my favorite word in the English language) as it sounds, is to become self-employed, part time. I want to buckle down hard and work on my art, and apply it all into a webcomic. I've done this before, but never for more than a month or two. I'd like to work at it, get a few dozen strips back-burned, and go live by the summer. My biggest concern was always periodic updates issued three times per week. Looking at the webcomic world, I realize that's a job for Penny-Arcade and Ctrl-Alt-Delete. Until I earn a living off it, I will have to work in my spare time, and updates won't be as uniform. Now that I am okay with that, I just need to get cracking, as they say.<br /><br />My second quest is to continue my studies of the general moral and intellectual characteristics of the modern world. I am not a very proficient reader of the zeitgeist, and I plan to change that. More over, I plan to become increasingly gregarious in the process. While this has been planned for a long while, the details I've recently hashed out sound like they will garner better results. I've determined that it is strictly a state of mind leading to an issue of charisma, and adjusting my internal processing while in an unfamiliar situation is all I need to pitch my gnomic adages. That, and it's important to remember that the bibulous don't judge the next day.<br /></span></span>Lynkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01975114018397839447noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6709445802033124838.post-74288445202868966962007-12-22T16:32:00.002-05:002008-04-21T01:27:19.200-04:00Happy... you know.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2091/2129728574_c6566ce8ab_o.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2091/2129728574_2777ed069d.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;">If it's okay, I'd like to wish some of you a safe and happy continuance. May your days be Merry and Bright, assuming you like it when days consist of modifiers such as Merry and Bright. Only if, of course, you prefer to enjoy your days as opposed to <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> enjoying them. If else, please, stay indoors for a while.<br /></span></span>Lynkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01975114018397839447noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6709445802033124838.post-17217880061223690402007-12-15T21:17:00.002-05:002008-04-21T01:27:52.564-04:00League, My<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;">I proudly claim my place among the socially timid; my behavior can often be strange mix of raucousness and anxiety. I tend to enter gatherings as if I were a one man expedition team, mapping, gathering samples and rocks of sorts, and running tests. Unfortunately, disaster always somehow strikes, forcing me to evacuate the site without the data in tow. Perhaps I can blame myself for never having an interest in partaking many popular activities, such as drinking, wearing fake sea-shell necklaces, and using hair gel. I tend to do my own thing. I've fallen into many categories, and social butterfly has never really stuck. I enjoy sharing dialog with others, do not get me wrong, but unfortunately it is more complex than that. It seems people are very quick to refuse that which is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">unordinary</span>. I think it is pretty well gathered that I am not conventional. I think I am more of an <span style="font-style: italic;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">unconventioneer</span></span>.<br /><br />With that said, I had a pretty big gig last night. A friend of mine is shoving off to lands afar, and wanted to throw one final show before leaving this town and this continent. He kindly requested that I open, and I accepted. My set was very unique for me, involving a few never-before-heard mocks that I've been working on, and a few Weird Al <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Yankovic</span> covers. I thought the selection was top-notch, and I painstakingly dubbed the tracks to filter out the main vocals, creating a karaoke CD. By the second song, it seemed many individuals were frightened, disturbed, or a combination of the two plus bored. I went in with massive energy, and ended up slouched in the corner by the end. It was disappointing, and difficult to trudge through, but I did nonetheless. Some had told me they loved it. Was that to pull my frangible self-esteem off the floor, or did they actually listen?<br /><br />Enough wallowing, I think. If I enjoy something, I will do it. If it cannot be understood, so be it. In the words of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Slartibartfast</span>, or perhaps I should credit Douglass Adams; <span style="font-style: italic;">I'd far rather be happy than right any day.</span><br /></span></span>Lynkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01975114018397839447noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6709445802033124838.post-68303986638207495082007-11-24T12:23:00.002-05:002008-04-21T01:28:33.659-04:00Birthdays, Black Fridays, and the Cracker Motif<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">To get this out of the way first, I'd like to admit that today is my quarter-century day of celebration. While more than ten years ago, I had hoped that perhaps one of these birthdays would set forth a milestone within an unearthed prophecy, and unlock the infinite power and wisdom of the cosmos to my fingertips. Maybe next year. The Universe probably doesn't function in yearly cycles anyway.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">I imagine everyone survived the dreaded Black Friday - I noticed the sirens stopped eventually. I hear the big items of the last holiday are nearly just as big this time around. Of course, I am speaking of the Wii and the PS3. Not so much the PS3 of course, but the price drop does make it somewhat more attractive. I still hear tales of woe concerning the hardships people are going through finding a Wii. Upstate NY seems to be holding out just fine, but I assume that I played a hand in that, due to hundreds of phone calls and live visits nearly a year ago. If you stayed away from the physical stores and shopping centers, you would undoubtedly have much better luck, you see, rumor has it that yesterday, Wiis were going for $80 on Amazon.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">Separate from the fantastic world of economics and marketing, although perhaps nemesis to it, I'd like to speak briefly about open source. This is a topic I plan to cover somewhat frequently, as it interests me greatly. Open source to most people means free software. It goes beyond that, and the actual definition labels it a culture. I won't touch on that too much, but the rundown is the concept of constantly being able to advance the world by promoting access to designs and goods.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">Open Office is an indeed simple example. For those of you who haven't used <a href="http://www.openoffice.org/">Open Office</a>, I suggest you try it. Open Office is essentially a free, open-source set of applications that mimic the functionality of Microsoft Office. You can download it for free and do all of your word processing create databases and much more. It is not as pretty as Microsoft Office. It does not contain a talking paperclip. A few options may be in different places among the menus. For these reasons, I have heard people completely bash Open Office. I hear similar stories for other alternative software. Perhaps it is just the people I overhear that is the problem. There have been times where I have surrounded myself in some pretty unknowledgeable groups and/or individuals who complain about free things. I'm not here to claim that Microsoft is shoving standards down our throats, and in fact, I am a big fan of where Microsoft is slowly trying to go, and it is clear that the standard user has no clue about it. None the less, without open source, innovation is decided for the user. If anyone is able to alter and redistribute applications, it applies a whole new concept of software evolution. Or, I suppose, you can complain about where the Paragraph formatting menu is and get nowhere. For more information about open source, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Open_source">check out Wikipedia</a>.</span><br /></span>Lynkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01975114018397839447noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6709445802033124838.post-30206007542461781062007-11-17T22:58:00.002-05:002008-04-21T01:29:08.860-04:00The Respite<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">As far as rocking the backstreets of Oneonta this weekend, I took a short hiatus. I missed out last Saturday as well, unless you caught me at a fantastic little house party with a full ensemble of sound-amplification boxes complete with mood lighting. It makes me miss my performance days. The fact is, I did not actually take the weekend off, but a big-kid job came up, and the bounty was high enough to grease my proverbial palms. The recourse of course was that it killed my Friday night and took off with my Saturday. I had plans to do something spectacular this weekend, I swear! Either way, I don't really mind; the rewards needed to convince me to sacrifice my weekend are indeed high, and were met. Besides, everyone in the whole town seems to have gone someplace else for the Holiday.</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/Lynk1up"><br /></a></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://picasaweb.google.com/Lynk1up"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://lh4.google.com/Lynk1up/Ry5rwPW93kI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/nezbqGF2W4U/Polka%20Power.jpg?imgmax=400" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I have, in the time since my previous entry, done some research on photo hosting. I've been using Flickr for quite some time now, and I stand by it. I have a few qualms that are happily resolved in the paid version. I suppose that is what qualm-sources are designed for. The biggest two issues were one; when reaching two hundred images, older images disappear from your gallery. You can still link to them, as in they still exist, but simply won't be shown on your gallery. More importantly, you can only have three album categories until upgrading to the premium version. Still, Flickr has a lot of neat features. For my older work, I will be uploading to Google's Picasa. Google offers a gigabyte of storage, and integration with the Picasa software. I've always shied away from Picasa, as I've never really wanted all of the images on my PC to be cataloged into one massive repository. You can discuss directory preferences within the software, but even so, for some reason it is lacking the control I want. Long story short, you can take a look at what I've got so far in my Picasa album <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/Lynk1up">here</a>.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">Friday was Shigeru Miyamoto's birthday. I've been celebrating by playing his latest masterpiece; Super Mario Galaxy. Miyamoto is one of the most beloved names in gaming history. He is the creative power behind Super Mario, The Legend of Zelda, Donkey Kong, Pikmin, and countless other Nintendo franchises. His ardent contributions towards the game industry are always highly anticipated. It's not hard to look at a game and recognize Shigeru Miyamoto's touch if he played a part in the development. With that said, Super Mario Galaxy is a complete meridian to his work. If twenty years ago, Miyamoto dreamed of a future for Mario, this very well was it. The game offers so much in near-perfect dose sizes that it is hard to believe that platform games are a dying breed. The Wii's biggest strength and weakness seems to be it's graphic processing capabilities compared to the other current generation systems. Super Mario Galaxy shows that even without the advanced rendering capabilities that the other systems have, a game can still look just as good. The soundtrack this time around mostly consists of completely orchestrated tracks with themes ranging from widely-epic to soothing, melodic undertones. There's quite a bit of the old material too, carefully remixed to take you back to 1992. Best of all, while the idea of plopping Mario in a space environment seems "gimmicky;" the game executes it so well that it feels completely natural. It's no wonder why Galaxy has been getting 10/10 reviews. There have been a lot of big titles to come out the past week or two, but for now, Galaxy has me completely hooked.</span> </span>Lynkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01975114018397839447noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6709445802033124838.post-72252204866331422892007-11-04T02:45:00.002-05:002008-04-21T01:29:49.303-04:00Sensational Vibes<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I'd like to talk about a very handy tool I've been using the past couple months. While I, a hearty myrmidon of technology and gadgetry, may be much more aflame towards the ever changing virtual organism that is the Internet than others, I feel that I do have something in common with <span style="font-style: italic;">just</span> about everyone who visits this blog.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I, like you, use the Internet. Whether you know vaguely how to bookmark a site, or you can script in PHP, I think the following tool will be a great joy to you. It's called <a href="http://www.netvibes.com/">Netvibes</a>.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Netvibes is nothing more than a homepage, and nothing less than a smooth, seamless hub that will put nearly all of your favorite Internet tools at your fingertips. Those of you who have used Google's iGoogle page know exactly what I am talking about. It works very much like iGoogle, except it's much prettier, and much more adaptable. Both aesthetics and functionality play vital roles for the modern-day Internet. Web 2.0 may be a buzz word to most, but it's certainly showing that with a little effort and creativity, applications such as Netvibes can be crafted for the benefit of users of all kinds.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Let's go a little deeper into what Netvibes actually is. You create a free account using your email. This way, it saved your profile so that you can access it from any PC. Once you are signed up, you have a plethora of options and widgets to choose from. You can choose to display things such as email, bookmarks, News feeds, video feeds, search results from Google Images and Flickr, calendars, task lists, note pads, and the list continues. There is a massive, ever growing library of Widgets, and you aren't limited to using specific ones. You'll find them all over the Internet. You can even tuck games into Netvibes. Of course, they don't expect you to throw everything all on one page, so they support tabs. Tabs with customizable colors, icons, and settings. In fact, you can customize so many aspects of the Netvibes homepage very easily, right down to importing your own images for the background and icons.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">What this can do for the average user, is put all of your commonly visited news sites and websites all in one place. You can look at headlines and expand full articles without even leaving the page. In fact, you can create Widgets that act as tiny web browsers, bookmarked to sites of your choosing with full navigational ability.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I highly suggest giving it a shot. It's free and simple to use. Remember, once you get it going, set it as your homepage. To get you started, I'll even offer you a Tome of the Untold Figment Widget. Go ahead and install this to read this blog right from Netvibes.</span><br /></span><br /><a href="http://www.netvibes.com/subscribe.php?preconfig=a115b9ee4ee1d2a719c24d573554e4c5" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.netvibes.com/img/add2netvibes.gif" alt="Add to Netvibes" border="none" height="17" width="91" /></a>Lynkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01975114018397839447noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6709445802033124838.post-42776928041775401622007-10-26T23:43:00.002-04:002008-04-21T01:30:27.661-04:00My Recidivism<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">The entity of time, or better yet, the entity of lack there of time is my most inimical foe. Of course, if I were to simply <span style="font-style: italic;">take</span> time, I would probably have my share of it. Digressing, I have the tendency to allow time to be taken. I've spoken of this before, and I shall not again now but any further.<br /><br />I am still in the process of sorting through my old material, processing and filtering representations of emotions and ideas of my past, as if I were in an attic surrounded by yellowed photographs. I have also done my laundry. While this may seem irrelevant, my outcome was more than just fresh pants. I regret cutting this short, but I'm sure you understand. Business as usual.</span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2258/1768146600_a2549b7576.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2258/1768146600_a2549b7576.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span>Lynkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01975114018397839447noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6709445802033124838.post-17098541554210597402007-10-19T23:36:00.002-04:002008-04-21T01:30:57.670-04:00Coup D'etat<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;">I feel in part beholden to dedicate my resources of freshly-mined time to submit to you the simple quotidian life that I so thrive upon. This week is no different. I've got big plans, I do, as far as an upcoming update. You see, as you may have heard, I'm initially recognized as the Accordion Guy from Oneonta. Trust me, I wear it like a crown. The title suits me, and tells much more than just my gender and my preference of reed instrument. I tend to be a tad bit unique. This is not a boast, and I could very well assume that you wouldn't want to read about it, but since you are, I shall continue.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I have always craved the different. I've realized this before, and I note it to be true at this time, but for a while… Well, let's just say my recent past has been a corrupted one. When you add a devotion towards another person's influence, the quality of the soup is completely beyond your control. At least, that's how it seemed to happen to me. I can only now factor in the fact that I had no clue it was happening to me; that I was being held back by just another ape descendant, a mutated and fickle mind that thought nothing of blaming the dirtiest of plots upon the very victim. I've made a golden oath to myself to never let such a debacle occur to myself again.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">This is that process. I've been fighting hard to make up for the times I was left to stagnate. My confidence has returned, tenfold, and the horizon speaks the answers.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">The update I speak of involves another hobby of mine, perhaps not as well known as I'd like it to be, as it is what I'd gladly spend the rest of my life working on. I consider myself an artist. Friends mostly know this, they have seen my work. Strangers too, who have swept over my previous blogs have very well observed it. I am going to bring it back to life, though I assure you it still lies extant. It will take quite some time to resize, reorganize, and re-upload everything, starting from my older work. That, and I just reinstalled The Elder Scrolls IV, Oblivion.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">One last item worth mentioning before I abscond from this Interweb for the evening; I offer this PC tip. If you are using Symantec Ghost to clone your system drive (say, perhaps to back it up onto another drive to save you the trouble of reinstalling your OS and all your applications) check the options before pulling the clone. Some versions won't take the boot record unless you ask it to. You want the boot record. Trust me.</span></span>Lynkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01975114018397839447noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6709445802033124838.post-71534038212615628072007-10-13T22:23:00.002-04:002008-04-21T01:32:25.640-04:00Irregularity<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >For your reading pleasure, I lay out the proposition that the second volume within this magnum opus I so craft in real-time, is about the length of time between one dissertation and the next.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">As much as I'd like to load this space, from header to footer, with unending content on an hourly basis, I cannot. I cannot promise regular updates. Why do I bother mentioning this? I cannot even promise a distinct theme. Perhaps I compose a story; a fable of fictitious sorts which becomes elemental reality as it is penned. Maybe I hope that my quirks and stylings will someday be emulated by the youth as a trend, in such a way to bastardize my very own efforts.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I've taken off on a tangent. What I am trying to say is that some people focus on one singular accomplishment or goal in life, content with a specialized yet limited skill set, demoting everything else in their lives as <span style="font-style: italic;">this-there</span>. (Example, this-there Internet, this-there evolution, this-there avant-garde jazz) Their immediate knowledgebase is good enough for them, and the remaining entirety of the Universe can shed a tear in the corner. I am unlike that. Certainly, like any model human I will happily deem a good number of things unimportant. With that said, I conclude that I cannot focus my time for one avocation alone, and when I do, the world is engulfed in black fire. I have many projects going on at once. I also do that nine to five thing, among other common time-bandits. See: <a href="http://www.pointlesswasteoftime.com/games/wowworld.html">World of Warcraft</a>.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Speaking of the other things I do, I must prepare myself for the evening. You see, on weekends I venture out to the bars with my accordion in tow. I guess you really have to be there to appreciate it.</span></span>Lynkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01975114018397839447noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6709445802033124838.post-54556652280751398362007-10-08T23:07:00.002-04:002008-04-21T01:32:38.580-04:00Basic Principles<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;">Before I begin, I'd like to remark that this is not my first foray into a blogging skirmish. I've thrown myself into the pockmarks of web-craft to counter and altercate, much like the many before me. I remember standing with pride amongst my word, despite the way they drift as echoes throughout the tubes of the Internet. In almost an instant, the thrill of being my own herald wreathed into dust, and I was almost pressed to proclaim a large portion of my auto-doctrine a mendacious ploy.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I return now, craving something new and nourishing. Over the past two months, I've gone through revision; I stand at my own personal precipice, and I demand self-bouleversement. I've made it necessary for myself.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I travel far from the livejournals and the myspaces. I regret even mentioning such cyber-clambakes. I remove myself from the drama with the hopes to forge a new community. I have a current premise behind all of this, but it is likely to veer around convention. Besides, why limit myself?<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Beyond that, welcome. This is a work in progress.</span></span>Lynkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01975114018397839447noreply@blogger.com0