Archive for January, 2010
To be fair, a 500 dollar dell is not going to be the same quality of hardware as a macbook. Where apple really dings you, however, is the high end. As far as I know, apple hasn’t released a core i7 system. Additionally, windows has A) a huge library of software going back twenty years (compared to OSX’s three, four at the most), B) real gaming support (mostly microsoft’s fault, but still), and C) I can install windows on whatever the fuck hardware I want. OSX I legally am not allowed to do that.
As to the virus issue, OSX is only mostly virus free because of its comparatively small market share. As that market share increases, more of the people who develop viruses will turn to developing them for OSX. Contrary to what apple may want you to think, OSX is no more secure than windows is. Additionally, anti-virus companies have a huge amount of experience combating windows viruses, and almost none combating OSX viruses, so when the time comes that it is popular to write OSX viruses, who do you think will be on top then?
Also: the leading anti-virus software on the market, both Kaspersky anti-virus and (my personal favorite) eset nod32, have a 90% plus detection rate. I’ll stick with windows.
And before some wiseass says that OSX has been around ten years, yes it has, however when apple switched from powerpc to intel, that rendered most of its previous software obsolete and incompatible.
(This is completely unedited from a facebook comment I made, I may edit for better blog-reading later. As it is, enjoy.)
Tonight I was watching a movie at a friends place – Van Diemens Land – a movie made in Australia, about a bunch of convicts who escape the police and end up in the bush. They apparently turn to cannibalism. I have no fucking idea because I didn’t finish watching the movie. However this movie was totally and utterly rage inducing. Never have I watched a movie that brought my blood pressure, body heat, and anger level up so fast.
The first scene in the movie was a close-up zoom of a mans mouth from the side, as he ate fuck knows what. The camera stayed panned in for about 90 seconds, as this fucking cocksucker chewed his shit noisily, and took more bites. At this point I could not bear to stay silent any longer, and my anger made me scream out “PAN THE FUCKING CAMERA OUT FOR FUCKS SAKE”. The camera generally zoomed in on any food if there was some present in the shot, which got really fucking annoying. Did the creator of this movie think it was arty and edgy to include these shots in the film? Because if he did, he deserves to be shot. I’m sure no one wants to stand 10cm away from someone who is eating in real life, why the fuck would anyone want to watch it constantly during a movie? Stupid as fuck.
Another thing was the constant inclusion of gaelic (I think). Sometimes the 7 or 8 prisoners talked in gaelic which brought up subtitles, but other times they spoke in English. For what reason, I have no fucking idea. It didn’t make a goddamned lick of sense in the slightest. How about sticking to one language? The director of this movie is obviously a fucking prick. speaking of pricks, onto the next thing:
Dicks. There were a lot of dicks in the movie. Firstly they beat the shit out of the guard who was keeping an eye on them and stripped his clothes off, so he was naked. His dick was fucking tiny. Like it was non-existant almost. He would have been a prime forum user for MyTinyDick.net. Next they got naked to cross a stream, holding their clothes on their shoulder and wading across the river, which was fucking pointless because their shit got wet anyway, fucking retards. And during this scene we get to see their cocks. 7 scruffy convict faggots and their tiny pencil dicks. I was almost convinced they were gonna start jerking each other off in the water. And I was hoping they would emerge from the water covered in dick leeches. Because fuck you arseholes. You deserve dick leeches for agreeing to be in such a shit, annoying fucking movie.
Van Diemen’s Land is a cocksuck of a movie, and I wouldn’t recommend watching it to my worst enemy, let alone anyone else. I give it 2 stars out of 10. The only reason it gets 2 stars is because I feel sorry for the tiny cock dude. Give him some credit for getting his pin dick out on camera. But fuck the rest of the movie. If I ever meet the director for it, I’m gonna shove a fucking steak up his arse and punch him in the mouth. Fuck you.
Recently I was watching my friend play Mass Effect 2, and noticed that he had come across an obstacle (a raised section of land) but seeing as the game has no JUMPING, he had to take the scenic route, walking up a ramped section of land for 2 minutes while being shot at. Something he could have avoided had the game included jumping. This seems to be a major fucking flaw with RPGs and even a few 3rd Person Shooters. Why the fuck can’t I just jump over this obstacle? Why was it so fucking difficult to include a jumping button, instead of making me run the fuck around things, and get stuck on sections of land raised 10cm. Notorious fuck-ups in jumping include Mass Effect (and ME2), The Witcher, MMORPG The Saga of Ryzom, Gears of War, and Star Wars Knights Of The Old Republic (and KOTOR2). Apparently Jedi’s have no fucking idea how to jump. Suddenly they’re robbed of one of the powers everyone knows they have – Force Jump. Well done Bioware, you fucking dropped the ball on this one.
Who in the FUCK decides to not include a jumping action for these games? It certainly takes a bit of fun out of the game when you have to walk around every object in your path rather than hopping over them without any difficulty. Mass Effect 2 advertises the fact that it has a shitload of hours worth of gameplay. About half of that must be walking around obstacles you could easily JUMP THE FUCK OVER. Another fuckup is that you CAN jump over cover objects, but you first need to take cover behind them, like some sort of fucking retard. The Witcher also suffers this, making you walk around low fences and getting you stuck on slightly raised objects. Its fucking irritating to the extreme.
Anyway, thats my rant for the day.
Yesterday, sporting a niggling hangover that just wouldn’t go away, I started looking for something to take which would dull the hangover or replace the feeling of it with a different feeling all together. I had been reading about how promethazine was not only an antihistamine, but also a central nervous system depressant, which can also potentiate opiates, alcohol, tricyclic antidepressants, and other chemicals. The side effects of promethazine included sedation and euphoria, which sounded interesthing to me, seeing as promethazine is available over the counter at the pharmacy.
Armed with a 50 pack of Phenergan 25mgs, I decided to take a handful of them and see what sort of effects I could get out of the drug. I took my first 75mg dose at around 12pm, and waited a while. Over a period of about an hour, I started noticing the effects of the drug. I felt sleepy and heavy, the visualiser on my music player started looking very interesting, and I stared at it for about 30 minutes. I eventually pulled myself away from staring at it, and went back to IRC, and started chatting away. About an hour and a half after taking the first dose I took another 50mg. I continued to chat on IRC and briefly stare at the visualiser which had started looking better and better as time went on.
About an hour after the 2nd dose, a friend had asked me to play a game of Modern Warfare 2 with him on the PS3, so I took a further 25mg of phenergan and got up to go to the loungeroom. As I got up I noticed I was having a little trouble breathing, it felt like something was sitting on my chest. I was also feeling extremely heavy and reasonably cloudy headed. I sat myself down on the couch and started playing the game, which I was totally shitty at. By this time I was totally buzzing off the drug and feeling so sedated I would have been able to close my eyes and fall asleep sitting up if I had wanted to. I also had a very slight feeling of euphoria, and my limbs were so heavy it took a lot of effort to move around. My breathing was still heavy and laboured but not as much as before I had taken the 3rd dose.
After around an hour of MW2 I went back to my room to chill out in front of my computer. As I got up off the couch, my knees buckled and I almost fell. I could barely stay standing, and movement was clumsy and difficult. I was also feeling disassociated, and nothing around me seemed real. When I sat back at my computer, I could see the room breathing with me, as thought I had taken a lot of pot or acid.
By about 5 hours after the first dose I could barely keep myself awake. Typing was laborious and near impossible. My fingers wouldn’t press the right keys, and they were way uncoordinated to backspace their mistakes. My head was swimming and I thought I felt nauseous and shaky. I got up and grabbed a few breakfast-shake-in-a-box things, and slammed one down, just incase it was hunger I was feeling. They seemed to settle my nausea/shaky feeling and I continued to sit at my computer, staring at winamps visualiser, and chilling out. After about an hour of that I decided that staying awake any longer was going to be impossible. I got up out of my chair and clumsily walked to my bed, knees buckling at every step. Falling into bed I passed out after about 30 minutes or so, around 7:30pm
At around 10pm I woke up for a piss, and found that I was still incredibly high from the promethazine. Everything was hazy and I felt groggy and disoriented. My knees were still buckling as I walked, making it difficult to get anywhere without falling on my arse. By the morning when I had woken up (around 9:30am), the effects of the drug were all but gone, save for a groggy feeling. I also got an awesome sleep and I woke up feeling refreshed.
All in all, promethazine is kinda fun to take a lot of, and from what I’ve read about it, reasonably safe (note: do your own research before you take my word on that), and, as it is obtainable over the counter at the pharmacy, its very easy and cheap to get a hold of. However, the first experience was reasonably good, but I can’t see myself taking such a high dose of it again as it seems to be more a sedative than a euphoric, but I bet it goes great with oxycodone or pot.
Enjoy your drugs responsibly
If there is anything I am well-known for in most of the communities I frequent, it is the bloodthirst of both my dad and me for small animals. More particularly, the small animals that dare to wander within the relatively broad boundaries of our yard. And recently there has been a wave of brash animals challenging Dad’s territorial claims, and he just won’t stand for it.
First, a bit of explanation. Having acquired our land when the area we live in was fairly undeveloped, we were able to seize a particularly large space of land. That means there is quite a bit of yard to take care of/guard against the forces of evil (animals). And this being rural southern Georgia, you bet your sweet lily ass there are animals waiting to snatch our land out from under our grasp with their filthy claws/hooves.
From the very get-go, Dad waged a campaign against Mother Nature and her furry bastard children. The first to feel the wrath of Angry Middle-Aged White Man were the squirrels; the furred freaks enraged Dad by climbing up the bird feeder and stealing the seeds meant for the adorable cardinals, robins, blue jays, and finches that frequented our birdfeeders. Dad set out wire traps, and like moths to the flame the squirrels practically barreled into the cages to get at the concoction of peanut butter and something else (I don’t recall) placed inside the trap. Once trapped, Dad would proceed to put the squirrel, trap and all, in a plastic garbage bag, attach the opening to the exhaust pipe of his truck, and rev the engine. My brother and I would stand in fascination, as the squirrel’s death scene played out unscene behind plastic bags. It was hauntingly beautiful, listening to the frantic scrabbles slow and then stop, much like a play, as the garbage bag was then dramatically removed to reveal the corpse of the squirrel, frozen in death. Dad would then take the body and throw it in the ditch behind our house. Our next-door neighbor observed the phenomenon with horror and dubbed our house the “Gas Chamber”.
The squirrels took the hint and stopped coming back, for the most part. Then the moles moved in. They were much trickier than the squirrels, for moles are much much harder to trap or even catch. This is when Dad became almost frightingly dedicated to eliminating the Mole Threat. He started tracking the moles; whenever he caught sight of an extremely fresh ‘mole trail’ (dug up ground), he would fetch a golf club and stand by the hole. And he waited. And waited. Sometimes he would be waiting for hours, but he was determined. When one is waiting out a mole, it is imperative that one try to move as little as possible, lest the mole sense the vibrations and veer away. Dad was very good at waiting motionlessly. Eventually he would feel the vibration of the mole returning and as soon as he could discern movement below the earth his golf club would come crashing down. I only glimpsed this almost epic clash twice, not having the patience to wait with Dad. It was an exciting thing; to see Dad, motionless, poised, then suddenly leap into action with a terrifying force. Without fail the mole would pop up, dazed, and Dad would take a chop that would put Tiger Woods to shame. The frail, small body would spiral almost gracefully through the air, blood sprinkling the earth, and land with a gentle thud, only to be picked up and thrown unceremoniously into the ditch to join the cooling bodies of the squirrels.
The moles never really went away, but their numbers dwindled enough so that Dad was not enraged every time he stepped out into the yard. Then the armadillos stepped up to bat. THEY have been Dad’s most infuriating opponent yet. For while moles are largely nocturnal, moles actually pop up rather frequently during the day. Armadillos, on the other hand, absolutely refuse to come out during the day, so Dad had to stalk them at night. They are also extremely fast, so one shot is all you get. Their skin (armor?) is also apparently rather tough, as Dad was forced to cast aside his pellet gun in disgust and take up his shotgun after the pellet merely bounced off the blind fucker. They are supposed to be extremely blind, but they are paranoid little bastards; when Dad sat in the yard just waiting for them to come out, they did not linger long enough for him to get a good shot. They probably smelled him, I guess. This frustrated Dad even further; now he had to stand by the door that opened to the area the armadillos seemed to favor, looking out the window, watching for the motion-sensor light to snap on and reveal the armadillo snuffling about. It was a long, laborious effort; oftentimes there would be nights were the armadillo didn’t come out at all, or came out but only long enough for Dad to rush down the hallway to grab his gun. Then there were the times Dad missed or didn’t hit a vital organ; then Dad had to watch in frustration as the armadillo shot up in the air and then hauled ass back into the forest next to our house. The only aspect in his favor is that armadillos are extremely territorial, so he was only dealing with one or two armadillos. It took two weeks for Dad to get the first armadillo, then its mate the next week. Fortunately it didn’t seem to have reproduced–a very good thing since armadillos have four babies at a time.
The armadillos stayed away until recently; Dad has noticed to his fury the beginnings of another armadillo settling in. I have also noticed the motion-sensor light snapping on during the night, so there is definitely something out there. Squirrels have also been starting to swarm the birdfeeder recently established right in front of the house; these squirrels won’t fall for the traps, so Dad has resorted to killing them face to face. As soon as he sees a squirrel through the window, he goes barreling down the hallway, loads his gun, and creeps out the door and around the corner, usually catching the squirrel unawares. I will often follow, for the thrill of seeing Dad have a classic Gregory Peck moment from To Kill a Mockingbird. The moles have also been making a comeback, moreso than the armadillos, and Dad has already stalked two.
If I ever wrote a memoir, I can bet that there will be at least five chapters dedicated to Dad’s sheer insanity, obnoxiousness (he once called me ‘a bigger faggot than your brother, and given how your brother hasn’t gotten any, that’s saying something. Why don’t you stop eating so much fucking ice cream, goddamn, that’s my ice cream, you’re already fat.’) and bloodlust. I can guarantee there will probably be more posts similar to this one; this Thanksgiving, Dad lamented the fact that he had never opened a morgue/crematorium and made it a family business. “Can’t you see us working together, Edith? Just shoveling in the bodies and making statues out of corpses to put in the bathroom? We could learn taxidermy and make the dogs into statues and put them in your mom’s bedroom. Wouldn’t that be awesome.” My dad is batshit insane and it is fucking awesome.
What is it about winter that causes people to be more thankful?
What is it about spring that makes people forget?
I find it very strange that starting around November, people become distant, yet friendlier; thankful, yet ungracious. In December people wish each other well, and some take a rare look inwards. And for a few weeks in January, they decide what they want in the new year.
We stop being thankful.
We stop wishing well on others.
We forget to strive for more.
Can we not be thankful year long? After all, we are alive all year, why do we not act like it? Is it so hard to recognize the contributions of others? We recognize that we would be unable to live our lives without the support of those who would give their time and effort to move food and goods for your pleasure and comfort… and yet, when we face such a person, we place ourselves on a pedestal. We are elevated. We are not them; we are not lower class, why should we care?
What is it about saying “Thank You” that makes it so tough to do? Why are such important words cast off and ignored?
I ask you now: Are you thankful? Have you given thanks to those who make your life possible?
Ok people, if you like to mess around on your vehicle and its electronic systems, you’ve probably spliced a wire and cut into stuff just to make shit work.
What I hate is when people do things so wrong they risk causing a fire and what not to make things work. Such as “Oh man, I need a constant power source. I better badly splice a wire with some duct tape and a knife into the cigarette lighter for this power hog of a device I need.”
One example is over on a Jeep Forum, one guy can’t get his headlights to work for reasons unknown, but he REALLY wants to go out at night to play in the snow, so he asked if he can just directly wire up the lights to his battery with a switch under the hood in between.
Not only is that a BAD idea, it’s dangerous. You need fuses to keep from a fire occurring, and this system would also keep him from using his high beams as well.
On top of this, after everyone gives him safe alternatives, people said to try replacing the lighting switch in the dash, since it’s a common problem. So they guy is all “CAN I JUST USE A NORMAL 20 AM SWITCH? WILL IT WORK?” No it wont fuckin’ work. Light switches handle about 8 different systems to light up. Tail lights, dash lights, head lights, high beams, what have you. So clearly a normal switch would NOT work.
People, take your god damn time and fix shit how it needs to be fixed. Don’t fuck around, do it as the factory would and don’t be stupid.