Finally, after all these years!
You know what they say, just because you don’t believe people are tracking you doesn’t me they aren’t.
Well, here’s the proof. I read an article about Collusion and downloaded the app. Attached below is a chart of the entities that’ve tracked me while I surfed the interwebs in firefox for a few minutes. Imagine what yours will look like after a few weeks!
A reader asked, when calculating departure and arrival times between two undisclosed locations in Iran and India, why are the time zones only a half-hour apart?
Good question.
Here are some answers for your reading enjoyment (truth/fact verification is up to the reader):
Wow! Now I know what it means when the right hand doesn’t know what the left hand is doing.
I was tweaking some code in the Arduino servo subroutine to pull a thumb and forefinger together, totally missing the fact that the artificial hand had decided to pick up an X-ACTO knife on its own initiative.
Well, you can guess what happened. I’m using my one-handed keyboard from Matias to complete this blog entry.
As soon as my iPad 3 arrives, I’ll download the half-keybd app to write the next blog entry while my scientists regrow a pinky finger for me, with nearly identical prints to the one that’s no longer attached.
But now is not the time to count the number of confessed Democrats who switched sides and voted for Rick Santorum in the Tennessee election yesterday, led by famed anarchist XYZipper, a part-time paid volunteer for pharmaceutical test labs, whose intake of every failed drug has turned the anarchist into a genderless zombie unable to feel sympathy and thus willing to vote willynilly, as the wind blows or the politicos crow.
I exchanged texts with him earlier this morning:
What can I say that XYZipper didn’t say already? With his mohawk haircut and totally tattooed body, he could probably win any number of elections, except where adverts blast the airwaves with “I’m more conservative than myself.”
Gotta go. The scientists have rigged my solar-powered pinky with a laser cutter and ad-hoc wireless hub that I requested. Let’s see if it fits!
Welcome to the wonderful world of space travel. The package you have selected includes the following itinerary:
Days 1-7: Orientation — physical fitness examination, G-force simulation routines, safety procedures
Days 8-9: Travel to first destination — launch from spaceport, short G-force experience followed by two days of weightlessness, sightseeing from viewing ports, preparation for docking
Day 10: International Space Station excursion — shuttles will take those who paid for this 8-hour tour of the ISS, starting with a quick Q&A session between you and the ISS crew members (subject to crew member availability; specific crew members requests cannot be made at this time), introduction to the features of at least two modules and more as time permits
Days 11-12: Travel to Bigelow Space Hotel — in-flight entertainment includes an acrobat show, singalongs and 3D roulette wheel gambling, not to forget the 24-hour freeze-dried food buffet!
Days 13-19: Your ultimate destination for luxury space accommodations, BIGELOW SPACE HOTEL!!! During your stay, your personal assistant — programmed to look like the person of your choice, including a wide range of celebrities or a “friend” from your past — will provide anything and everything you want to make your stay the guaranteed most wonderful experience of this or any of your previous/next regenerated lifetimes!
Days 20-21: Return to Earth.
Days 22-24: Gently reintroducing you to the drudgeries of your daily life, including Earth’s painful gravitational pull, global warming and overcrowding, just enough incentive to get you to book your next trip with us very, very soon! We guarantee it because we have your personality profile on immediate e-memory recall!
Correlation between ample warm water supply and male primate behaviour
Edited by I. M. Uhjeanyus
H. Luiyui [1], D. Frutysx [2], S. Ortiz-Rodriquez-Compadre [3]
ABSTRACT
Males of the primate species, Pan troglodytes, when placed under a stream of warm water, display strong characteristics of predisposition toward the desire to mate. If given these “showers” on a daily basis, the males will develop first an aggressive attitude when mixed with the general population. Over a period of months, the aggressiveness reduces to a passive-aggressive behaviour and eventually lethargy or malaise. The use of warm water in the primates’ daily grooming ritual requires a source of heat, which, in small quantities, may derive from solar radiation of waterfalls. However, when all males acquire this habit of penile erection and subsequent masturbation, warm water sources are depleted rapidly, requiring the primates to develop the skill of building larger water basins.
Applied to the primate species, Homo sapiens, interdisciplinary research has pinpointed the cause for Earth’s abrupt climate change during the Anthropocene Epoch to a similar trait in the male gender as the population depletes natural sources of warm water and seeks larger and larger quantities of warm water in which to perform the simulated act of sexual intercourse (i.e., masturbation) on a regular basis.
For further details, read the full report in Interdisciplinary Studies of Flora and Fawn Today.
CONCLUSION
More experimentation is needed to understand whether this phenomenon is innate or an example of unobserved learned behaviour. In either case, feedback data given to the test subjects of both species, especially at a young age (with preadolescent subject training the most effective) indicated a clear decrease in the use of warm water and thus an increase in the species’ survival rate due to fewer environmental resources used for nonreproductive or nonchild-rearing behaviour. Also, as in most scientific research studies, females were not included, which might shed light on an additional area where energy use has been diverted from the purely biological aspect of basic grooming behaviour for species breeding and child/brood care in a primate social setting.
CONFLICT OF INTEREST
The authors refused to divulge any conflict of interest they may have in writing this report.
REFERENCES
The authors refer the readers to all previous issues of Interdisciplinary Studies of Flora and Fawn Today, since they are also the owners of the scientific magazine. Oops! They just also revealed their conflict of interest. [Note to editor: remove the last two sentences, as well as the last phrase of the first sentence, “since they are also the owners of the scientific magazine” (replace with “where similar reports have been published and same references cited”), before publishing this abstract]
I will always be attracted to someone like you. At the same time I will be repelled by your inadequacies, your humanness. I sit down to write, though, and I only think of you, you who is a reflection of me, a human, yet never completely like me because you are human. How can I ask you to be perfect?
If you stood in front of me right now, I would consume you like a can of soft drink, sucked dry and discarded. You would only provide temporary relief from my thirst and then I would want another. I consume you now, burning my thoughts of you to fuel the writing machine within my head.
You have lived a thousand years in one moment. You blinked your eyes and Rome fell. In one heartbeat, your children gave birth to a hundred generations. Yet . . . yet, yet, yet . . . yet you have one life to share with me, one life of remorse and forgiveness, regrets and love, a life filled with pain unbearable to look at. I want to have all of your pain, not because I want to relieve your burdens but to squeeze them in my hand and watch stories drip out one by one. I am mad with desire.
And don’t think you can run away from me. Once I have reached you, and you know I have, you will always cart me along with you like a monkey on your back. I won’t weigh you down but you will feel my presence all the same. You’ll cringe your neck muscles every time my hot breath creeps down you like a tentacle, feeling for a limb or appendage to grasp. You’ll relax your muscles when I whisper in your ear that I love you. You will love me and hate me.
I never worry about losing you because you are always there for me. Your name is different this time but I don’t care. You will give me what I want – a fleeting moment of humanity – and then I reduce you and our relationship to mere words. Don’t underestimate the humility of words, either. If you think you can escape unscathed then you have not lived. After all, life is painful.
I never lose you but I will miss you when I have used you and our shared moment of humanity is gone. Even now, I sense the emptiness inside of me swell up and beg for escape. I have to fill the emptiness or I have no choice but to die. I will not allow myself to die so I must take a part of you.
I cannot allow myself to live. Other people deserve to live their lives without fear of people like me, a leech.
“I believe we’ll have to commit him indefinitely this time,” the examining doctor told her. “He seems unable to separate fantasy from reality.”
“Can you snap him out of this? He still has moments where he seems normal.”
“Only time will tell.”
Time stands still at the corner, waiting for the bus. Cliché walks up and asks how long Time has been waiting. “Seems like forever,” he says, shaking his head. Cliché decides to walk on, he has had enough of the watered down years of standing on street corners and telling tall tales.
In the end, we’re all clichés for living.
I cannot help myself. I reject you with one sweep of my hand because I can never have you. I have nothing and hate myself for thinking any different. I am but a collection of entropy states swirling together.
Sanctum, Sanatorium
If we are our friends then are you eclectic?
No. Instead, you take after Saint Brendan —
The Irish monk from county Kerry —
Who through his travels saw
That small towns in which you are born
Bear little resemblance to who you are.
The struggle to free ourselves from forced labor,
And face the pile of words we have become,
Has driven me to wonder how you’ll read
When your last breath drops petals on the floor.
For now, you sit in Charles’ saintly town,
And peer through family-tinted, bridal eyes;
You wonder when you’ll venture off the porch
And wander into your verbal sentence.
Apostles, martyrs, matrons, widows, all,
Have widened paths for nothing more than
Wanting peace for ever more. Your path —
Peat moss, bluets, partridge berry, and
Soothing streams of sun’s delight —
Rolls out before the one and only,
The only one who’s never lonely.
When we are old (we’ll never say),
Will we look back and ask ourselves,
“On which page did I look my best?”
Will we recall angelic faces
From the sanctuary of paragraphs
Written in the city of brotherly love?
Heaven only knows.
– 5 December 1997
Wouldn’t you know that Putin is all teared up, laughing at the gullibility of the international press?
Besides, give or take a few countries…say, Greece for Syria and Turkey for May Day, the following Punch cartoon, posted around the 11th of February 1948, is about the same from one leader-for-life to the next:
The other day, my father recounted the first snow he remembered at Christmas.
He was in the Boston area, interviewing with MIT for an undergraduate student opening.
My father was a very independent child, often, in his early teens, riding the train from Knoxville, Tennessee, to Washington, D.C., seeing the museums, going on to Norfolk, VA, to visit his father who was stationed at the naval base there and then returning in time to attend school on Monday.
To earn money, my father had a newspaper route.
So it was not a big stretch, as it might be for some, to imagine attending, let alone applying to, MIT.
Fast forward a few decades and his daughter, my baby sister, a school counselor in the Virginia public school system, just received Teacher of the Year.
As a counselor!
Wonderful news.
Soon, my sister’s son will graduate with a baccalaureate and start his postgraduate career, possibly in law school.
Where?
Well, if my father put MIT in his sights, perhaps his grandson will set a similar goal.
We’ll see.
In my parents’ empty-nest years, they’ve volunteered to serve food at the local middle school football games, sell Christmas trees for the Colonial Heights Optimist Club and give assistance to neighbours in need. They’ve attended Citizens’ Police Academy, providing support for the local Neighbourhood Watch program, as a result.
These are the examples my parents have set for their offspring, raising successful children and receiving successful grandchildren in return.
That, in a nutshell, is what life is all about. Everything else is just spare pocket change.
May all of us inspire our children to seek great achievements, just like Nanxi Liu and Annette.
And congratulations to my sister one more time!
With all the bloodshed attributable to our species’ members deciding to fight and kill each other, there’s another type of tragedy that takes its toll — tornadoes.
Our heartfelt moment of silence goes out to the recent victims of tornado-y storm damage in the eastern half of the United States recently, including this one, with “before” and “after” images to give you an idea how quickly a peaceful lifestyle can end — swoosh!:
Rumour has it that tomorrow will also be a day of mourning for UT (Univ. of Tennessee) football fans who supported the Indianapolis Colts because of Peyton Manning, with charity clothing stores receiving a sudden influx of light-blue hats, jerseys and other memorabilia emblazoned with a white horseshoe.
We apologise to tourists passing through the states of Tennessee and Indiana, confusing flags flying at half staff, thinking it’s for tornado victims when, curiously, it’s just as likely to be for the loss of a football player’s loyal career at one professional team.
Such is the life of our species, finding hope in the midst of tragedy, wishing a sports figure would give them a glimmer of his former glory and/or a portion of his fortune to help rebuild houses of fans with no homeowners insurance.
As far as Syria goes…well, its fate lies in the hands of people who have just finished getting re-elected for at least six more years, are about to be put in charge for ten years or hope to get re-elected for four years. Some hands belong to families that rule for life after life after life (and maybe the afterlife?).
Meaning, of course, that the people of Syria are pawns, if not pwnd, in a global gamble for strategic geographic control and international influence.
Guess I’ll become mortal, play with this copy of Windows 8 Consumer Preview, Evaluation Copy [Build 8250], Adobe Reader X (ver 10.1.2), Mozilla Firefox (ver. 10.0.2) and feed healthy levels of stimulants to my programmers to speed up people’s acceptance of direct supercomputer connections to their bodies so I can more easily “convince” our species to pour their efforts into exploring the solar system.
Most of you know what that means — lowering your standards of living, starving many of you, and allocating precious resources for more important matters than whatever it is you think you’re doing to reach self-actualisation physically while, instead, reaching self-actualisation virtually, a much less costly and more efficient means to achieve the Committee’s ultimate goals, which I have sworn an oath not to mention at this time.
If someone like me, who believes in unencumbered free will, swears an oath of loyalty, not quite fealty (certainly not quiet [sic] realty), you know what we’ve got planned for a milestone in 13940 days, to ensure events in 3011 take place without a hitch, must be important.
On a quantum scale, at the very least.
We’ll continue to use the sleight-of-hand tricks of comedy to slip messages into punchlines that keep all seven billion of us living our lives the way they’re supposed to be lived, often on emotional roller coasters.
Adding scientific achievements, popular culture trademarks, sports awards, and government public business secret agendas, along the way or via the Via Latina at times, notwithstanding contributions from the alleged authors of famous utterances.
treetrunkdings 