It seems strange to me that I should be enjoying this music, but there's no denying it, it's simply true.

Check this shit out.

First right click on the link towards the top of the page as directed, and bookmark it. Then left click that same link (or choose the bookmark). You can choose that bookmark at any time to do that for any page. So frickin' neat.

Holy crap is this ever cool!

And so is this!

This may well be old news, but I figured I'd float the meme, because sad though death may be, I don't warm to the idea of praising Reagan's accomplishments. Only in comparison to present circumstances does his presidency sound like a fun prospect to me.

I am so unreasonably in love with these cards. WARNING: Link hides seerious geekiness. If you don't care about MtG (or god forbid you don't recognize that acronym) DON'T CLICK. God I cannot wait until June 7th.

Now this is goddamn cool. Perhaps it's old news, but it was new to me:

Infocom at a whim, complete with save/restore. Rock. Not that I use AIM at all lately, but it's just so damn cool that somebody BOTHERED. Now if only I could run nethack inside a vim sub-window. ;)

-John

If you don't care about magic, run screaming. In fact, if you DO care about magic, seriously consider the running, screaming plan. It's a good plan.

( Seriously. I take no responsibility to what happens to you after clicking here. )

I was just pointed to a very good article on election mechanisms.

If you care one way or the other what impact Nader might have in 2004, and why, read this article.

It was definitely a situation with which they were unfamiliar. Krupta, whose friends called him Burns for reasons forgotten, looked back uncertainly at the boys gathered behind him.

"Is she gone?" asked Val, who's friends called him C.F. for reasons all too well remembered.

Krupta shrugged as if to say, "how the hell would I even know?"

The two of them glanced to Mark, who's friends called him Leg with the harmlessly cruel accuracy found primarily among children. Mark looked thoughtful but passive. He was generally apathetic to his compatriots' fear over their physical well being. He had been through worse, he would survive worse many times yet to come. Mark's life was charmed, in its way, because he always had his eye on the bottom line. If she didn't want to go to the dance, Mark didn't lose a limb. If he didn't get into that school he wanted to attend, he still got to keep both eyes. Mark walked taller and with less visible reason, because he knew better than most adults how to tell threat from nuisance. He was not a dark young man, whatever his calm might have suggested. He was no fatalist. But he generally had some food and a book with him, and felt little pressure to rush through life. "Sid needs to talk to the eleven. We can wait awhile. It's Friday." There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Mark would comfortably wait until Monday if he thought it would improve the situation.

Sid, who's friends called him Sid because that was his name, nodded miserably beside Mark. He DID need to talk to the eleven. If he missed another day of class, he would be held back, and even with just one week of school remaining, it was too much to risk. The eleven would certainly know about the Missing, and the risks were of little consequence.

They had thought it sounded like a good plan, back at the beginning. Invisibility. Who doesn't want to be invisible? Sometimes. Invisibility is power. Ask someone, choose a power, like a comic book character, what do you choose? You want to fly? You'll get over it. It's nice enough as things go, but you quickly realize that flight doesn't buy you a lot that money can't. Super strength? Regeneration? Destructive beams of force? All cute when the cops come after you, but until then, you look pretty silly with no Doctor Octopus, no Penguin. But invisibility, now, that's power.

It was Mark, of course, who first suggested it. Val found the book, and had been first to take the leap, but it was Mark who reminded them what power was. It was Mark who saw the bottom line. "What about walking through walls, Leg? You could go anywhere!" Yes, but you could teach yourself to walk through walls, with tools and patience. You couldn't train yourself to disappear. Not really. Mark knew about tools and patience. And so they all chose the same. Four friends with one terrific secret. And they destroyed the book. They didn't know who wrote it, but it was the only copy. It was handwritten in something dark. Nobody looked too closely, but they were pretty sure you didn't write books like that twice.

The problem was that without the book they lost track of some of the details. And sometimes you couldn't turn it off. And sometimes you really had to turn it on. And when single malt scotch made your father even more of an asshole, you sometimes had to sit at an empty desk, and mum the hell up during roll call. Because that's a secret. And so you either get separated from your friends, or you sack up and go to the eleven. That's not a choice, that's just how it is. And Sid Sr. was not a Vodka man. The irony was that Sid had wanted less than anyone to go with the Missing. Sid had been rather a proponent of something that let you break things. Something that maybe let you break people. Just once in a while. And Mark had taken him aside and quietly talked to him about patience. And tools. And so he stared back at the parts of Val that were not eyes, and waited for someone to speak. Waited for his time with the eleven.

because it needs to be seen by more people

http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/gollum.php

This is far too good a way to waste time.

The following is all from HOL, and copyrighted by people who are not me, including but not limited to Dirt Merchant Games:

Excerpt 1) WARNING: Do NOT read further if you are offended by the following sentence: "The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog; What a fucking' Asshole."

CLAIMER: This game will fuck you up. We swear. It will make you take drugs whose chemical composition is beyond the spelling capacity of this author. You will begin a prostitution ring made up of fourteen-year olds and destitute nuns. Eventually, of course, you will most likely leap from the balcony of your local theare with seven running chainsaws strapped to various parts of you body. Ther's a good chance it will be the matinee showing of BAMBI as well.

Thank you for your time, Worship the Antichrist, and have a nice day.

Excerpt 2) INTRODUCTION: What is Roleplaying? -- To truly comprehend the nature of what is today called "Modern Roleplaying", we must first step into a time machine to Ancient Greece...

FUCK THIS NOISE!!!

I ain't gonna waste my time explaining that when I know you guys have read 4,000,000 other sets of rules comparing roleplaying to everything from movies to religious experiences. Face it--this is not gonna be someone's 1st game. "Hmm, you know, cribbage is getting kinda stale--let's get something with a lot of blood & Death in it."
If you don't know what roleplaying is and this is your 1st game, then you've fucked up. Go play (You know the one -- It sounds like "truncheons & Flagons", but we can't say it cause of copyright laws) for about 6 years and get back to me.

I'm sitting here, in my parents' greatroom, in front of the fire. Surrounded by family, and the smells of cooking bacon and dutch apple pancakes. Soon, my brother will arrive, and the three of us (my cousin the third) will begin the ritual opening of the stockings, with their strange booty. Then presents, of course, and breakfast, and my mother will begin preparing the ham. Yesterday we started a new tradition with the christmas eve white elephant exchange. I get to stay here for several more days and revel in the layered warmth. I spent the night before last playing a massive board game with friends. I lost horribly (and played even worse than that would imply). But I got to play a huge board game. And then when I finish that, I go to Michigan with one of my best friends to do New Years proper. And finally I return to my life in Mountain View. Where everything is so nearly perfect that it's a little terrifying.

Today, life is perfect. All week. So many good things. I frequently have to battle tears of happiness, these days. I am embarrassed by my riches.

Merry Christmas, all.

It's official. For those of you who might have been waiting to know. I'm a Googler.

It's officially a really fucking good weekend. If you're close to me, and you're going to die while, I dunno, publishing the dark secrets about my conservative racist past or something, could you do it this weekend? 'Cause I'm going to be im-fucking-possible to bring down for the next couple of days. Not only did I more or less get hired on Friday into my dream job, but I had a really incredible date tonight. Really, really good. And I'd venture to say she thought so too. So, yeah. If you're doing the dying and defaming thing, now's the time.

none of these vague "skies are colored dark, and I can't see the light, why do I feel how I do...bleh" lyrics people are always posting. I get into work, and I'm staring blearily at my screen to the following lyrics:

"I had a line on a brand new account
But now I can't seem to find
Where I wrote that number down
I try to focus, I'm staring at the screen
Pretending like I know
What all these little flashing lights mean

I gotta do some quick reading
for the big meeting
but my head is spinning
and I can't quite open my eyes"

And even with great lyrics, they actually have cool melodies and harmonies and such. Shocking.