May 16

Space Pirates vesus S.U.N.G.O.D. - Chapter 2 (Punkadyne Labs (Punkwalrus))

I got curious to see where this was heading, so why not?
_________

Essar tried hard to calmly breathe through her nose as tears of fright dribbled down both cheeks, leaving a sticky and salty path. Two pieces of gray adhesive strips covered her mouth, and as she sat in the dark closet, she prayed that she could hold out until the pirates left them alone. But Eliza didn't have confidence that they'd left the ship go.

"When they are done with looting," she said, "I bet you they blow us all up."

Essar squeaked in resigned fear, her protests waining into futility as snot bubbles popped in her left nostril.

"Shut up before I tape your nose, too," Eliza said. "I can't hear them."

Despite their present situation, Essar privately understood where Eliza was coming from. She had acted foolishly when Eliza informed them that they were about to be boarded.

Only minutes before, Eliza had down to the engine room, stinking of sweat and stale corn chips. "Okay, they have trapped us in a gravity pump, and they will board us within a few minutes. I can already see their gang-tube slithering towards us. They have disabled our nano-shield, and when they are done looting, I bet they blow us all up. That's what I would do, anyway."

Essar, looking at the unconscious Cayman she had just wrapped a head bandage on, started wailing in fear. Even with the repeated slapping by her screaming captain, Essar simply cried like she was four years old again, and had just fallen down a short flight of stairs. Finally, Eliza punched her in the stomach, and as Essar tried to catch her breath, Eliza taped Essar's mouth shut, and then bound her wrists in the adhesive strips.

"We're going in the closet in the main room. DON'T make a sound, or I will crush your aorta until you pass out. I am not very good at that technique, in fact, I have accidentally killed a few people did it to. Well, all of them, really. I think. Just... forget it, SHUT UP!"

The last thing Essar saw before she was plunged into the darkness was Eliza making some changes on her main control panel, and spraying some kind of gunk in the air out of a can. Whatever the stuff was, it turned into messy strands on all surfaces, making the areas of the ship look like it was covered with cobwebs and dust.

Now she was packed in the closet, pressed against her captains skinny and wiry frame, listening to the pirates pick around the ship.

"The entire access panel has been removed," said chief security officer Derrick over the communications ear piece. "They have a huge cut in the control conduit. They probably did this on purpose."

"Why would they abandon and disable the ship?" asked one of the pirates who went by the name of Dan.

"And again, like I said five minutes earlier, I don't know." Captain Bolart opened one of the cardboard boxes near him. "They are packed to the rafters with ill-gotten goods. Look, sugar skulls. They were doing the Verde Mujeres run."

"I don't like the looks of this. Something is funny here," Derrick said. "Maybe it's a trap."

Bolart chuckled. "I think everything is a trap, which is how I am still among the living."

"More sugar skulls, sir," said Dan. "Okay, I think this is the main control and navigation room for this model of cargo ship. Behind this access door."

"What's all this white stuff on the ceiling?" asked another pirate, shining a flashlight into the various conduits in the ceiling.

"Dust and neglect. Perhaps this ship has been here a long time, Roy," said Dan.

"Scan this door for signs of life," Bolart ordered.

"It's the same as the general sweep, sir. The entire ship is reporting organic matter."

"The sugar skulls, partly," Bolart picked one out of an open box and chewed on it. "Pretty fresh. I am sure they are so ripe, they are registering organic matter by the tons. You could hide a damn dinosaur in here and we wouldn't see it until we were on top of it. Okay, get ready to blast the door--"

"It's unlocked, sir," Dan said as the door slid to one side.

Roy shuddered. "They must have left in a hurry--"

"Or wanted us to find the main control room," Derrick said over the intercom. "I am coming up. Don't go in there until I get there."

"Let's wait for Derrick," Bolart said. "We need him to access the ship logs anyway."

Not more than a few meters away, on the other side of the door, Eliza whispered, "Don't. Say. A thing. Not a whimper. Not a sneeze or snuffle. If they find us, I will kill you before they get to. Understand?"

Essar nodded in the dark, hoping Eliza could notice. But she got no acknowledgement. Her nose began to itch.

"Dan," said Derrick as he came up behind them. "I want you to go back to the aft of the ship. There's some personal effects there, looks feminine, but it's the only evidence we have a human lived here. All the rest of the quarters are storage areas."

"What do you make of the webs?"

Derrick scanned the material. "Organic in nature, probably why the entire ship is reading so strongly. I don't see any inhabitants."

"Maybe they are Verdian lung spiders," Bolart chuckled.

"Don't joke about that," Dan said. "I had a brother who died from a spore infection on some contaminated cargo." He nervously looked at the boxes of sugar skulls.

Bolart put on his serious face. "Dan, the longer you wait, the more spores you inhale. Go check out the aft of the ship." Dan didn't need an additional command, and quickly sprinted down the hallway. Bolart laughed with Derrick, "Verdian lung spiders..."

Eliza could hear them through a seam in the closet door. She couldn't make out what they said, but she recognized the pentamer of the term "Verdian lung spiders," and she smirked.

"Look at the main controls. What a wreck," Roy said.

Bolart didn't think the main control room looked much different than their own, but it did have a strange nest quality to it. The floor was littler with dirty clothes, newspapers, food wrappers, and assorted technical manuals. He picked one up and raised an eyebrow.

Derrick sat in the captain's chair, and pushed aside some papers. "The main console is not even locked." He was so focused on the panel, he never noticed the seat was still warm.

Roy shook. "This place gives me the creeps. Nobody tried to fight us or anything. This place was abandoned like a... ghost ship."

Bolart put down the book and sniffed the air. "Things are not what they seem..."

"Hello!" said Eliza's voice. A hologram appeared in the center of the room.

"A lady!" Roy said.

"If you are seeing this message, you must already know of our fate. On date 7600114.0312 we found that a recent shipment of sugar skulls from Verde Mujeres was infected by Verdian Lung Spiders and a massive amount of spores. We jettisoned the ship and cut power to the engines to allow it to drift into the Verdian sun. As your sweep indicated, the massive infection spread rapidly. There are multiple spore siphons located in cargo bay 2, 5, and some in the air ducts."

Roy turned pale, but Bolart laughed heartily.

"We have to assume that if you are viewing this recording, the ship is still intact. You are either in hazmat suits, or you have unwittingly stumbled into a very dangerous airspace, and must, repeat MUST seek hospitalization immediately. Spores will hatch in 24-28 hours in a moist environment, the larvae will become mobile shortly afterwards. To continue, please enter an executive level access code."

Roy held his breath, trembling.

"To continue, please enter an executive level access code."

Bolart smiled. "And what if I don't?"

"To continue, please enter an executive level access code."

"User Theron alpha alpha."

"One moment." Eliza's face, staring off to the right of the viewer's perspective froze while a slider bar measured "contacting S.U.N.G.O.D. Corporate."

Derrick watched the process from his main screen.

"User confirmed. Please state password."

Bolart roared, "Zero one four alpha lime zero zero brandy ten waltz one one five seven."

"Password rejected. Please state clearly."

"YOU state clearly!" Bolart roared.

"Password rejected. Please state clearly."

"Derrick, can we get rid of this interface and view the ships logs?"

"Password rejected. Please state clearly. Last attempt."

"SHUT UP!"

"Password rejected. No more attempts will be made. Ship's auto-self destruct will start countdown. Please evacuate the ship and leave a clearance of 500 kilometers. You have five minutes."

"HALT program!"

"Password rejected. Four minutes, fifty six seconds."

"Derrick, please shut this thing down."

"I can't, sir, this is the real thing."

Bolart looked thoughtful. "You're kidding."

"Password rejected. Four minutes, fifty one seconds."

Derrick tried to access the main panel, but it was locked as the rest of all the screens on the ship on a red background with a countdown timer. "Bolart, I don't think this is a bluff!"

"It has to be. Oldest bluff in the book."

"Password rejected. Four minutes, forty five seconds. At 2 minutes, all escape hatches will be released. In a vacuum environment, this will cause rapid cabin pressure fluctuation. Fire doors are being lowered."

"What's going on up there?" asked Dan. The engine room door has slammed shut. I'm stuck in here with an unshielded conduit vent and an alarm stating self destruction. Are you guys being dicks?"

Bolart thought for a few moments. "Evacuate," he said, and briskly walked out towards their entry. Derrick and Roy followed close behind.

"What? Guys? Hello?"

"What about Dan?" asked Roy.

"Either this is a bluff, and he'll be fine, or this is real and it won't matter," Bolart said as they entered cargo bay 2 and towards their gang tube connection. "Order an emergency detach of the gang tube."

"But we're infected with spores--"

"THERE ARE NO SUCH THINGS AS LUNG SPIDERS, THAT'S A MYTH **OUR** PEOPLE CREATED!!" The moment the cargo access door shut, he screamed, "DETACH GANG TUBE!!"

Roy inhaled deeply for the first time in several minutes with great relief as the gang tube sealed off behind them and quickly coiled back to their ship.

"Guys?" Dan called out.

"Password rejected. Three minutes, 35 seconds," answered the recording.

"The damn closest door stuck!" Eliza shouted. "I knew there was a reason I never stored anything in here."

"Password rejected. Three minutes, 25 seconds."

Essar mumbled through her taped mouth. She wasn't too worried, since she knew the countdown was a bluff, but was concerned that Eliza seemed a little more desperate than normal. Finally, she pushed herself up against Essar and started kicking at the door with her feet. "OPEN DAMMIT!" Essar protested as the force crushed Essar's ribcage against the back of the closet wall.

Meanwhile, at the pirate ship, Bolart was barking out orders. "I don't think we're dealing with a normal captain, so I want to steer this ship a thousand kilometers away and wait for the destruction... if there is one"

Roy knew that his buddy Dan was back there, but there was little he could do.

"Captain Bolart," Derrick said, looking at the snoop screen the moment he threw himself into his chair. "What are the odds the ship will actually blow it self up, in your opinion?"

That was coincidentally the very same thing Essar thought when her ears popped.

"What was that?" she tried to say, but found the air was very hard to come by suddenly.

But Eliza didn't answer, and gave one final shove, pushing the closet door apart from its moorings far enough to wedge herself halfway out the door. There was a horrible hissing noise and all the moisture in the air condensed instantly. Essar started to feel faint.

"What's going on???" she screamed, but the words would not come out.

"The hatches have popped!" Eliza said angrily. She sounded out of breath, too.

"I thought the self-destruct was a simulation!" Essar huffed. Then, in a moment that seemed to be an insult, the closet door slid away from its bent railings and floated to the floor as gentle as a piece of cardboard.

Eliza struggled through the brisk cold air to the panel. "What simulation?" she gasped. "Is this decompression a simulation?"

Essar paused as she walked out into the cold, damp air. She pulled off the adhesive tape from around her hands, but no matter how hard she shook them, she couldn't seem to shake off one last piece of tape. The world around her started to slow down. "Then we ARE going to blow up??"

"Password rejected. Self destruction in... one minute, fourteen seconds," said Eliza's hologram.

"Not if I can help it! Shut that countdown off!"

Essar ran to her navigation panel, gasping for air. She knew that if it weren't for the door to the main control room, they would have been sucked into space. For a second, Essar realized that all the sugar skulls and other assorted cargo left loose in the hallways must be spinning rapidly away from the ship by now. Same with all the contents of her sleeping area, since it was not less than two meters from the aft cargo door. Her panic burned out like an overheated engine, and suddenly through the hissing of escaping atmosphere, the cold mist, her horrible earache, and the stars swimming before her eyes, she knew what she had to do. Her fingers nimbly danced over the control panel, and sent an emergency hatch close, but the self-destruct sequence was overriding her.

Eliza shouted something, but as the air turned a reddish-purple, Essar's ears only registered a fading dull roar. Standing proud, she merely waited for the red panel in front of her to turn green. She would wait for as long as it took. She suddenly had faith in Eliza, maybe out of necessity than anything else, who was barking out override codes despite the fact she had very little air left in her lungs, and sounded like a out-of-shape runner trying to sing an opera. Essar was barely aware that the oxygen left in her lungs was some of the last in the air, which were trying to suck what it could from the nearest high pressure. She only faintly saw a green glow beneath her fingers before she became aware that she could no longer hear anything, and that her vision was giving way to a dark red fog. The last thing she would remember was a shuddering noise of 7 hatches on the ship groaning in a chorus of protest.

A minute later, there was a bright flash on Derrick's snoop screen, then his target circle turned yellow and vanished. "Well... we did the right thing," he said.

Bolart shifted his jaw in thought, looking at his visual holographic display while Roy tried hard to hold back his anguish. "Gone, are they...?" the captain asked.

Derrick nodded. "I can see the debris cloud spreading on the material scopes. Organic matter, ship material... heh... look, those must be some sugar skulls."

Roy sighed and asked to be excused. Bolart waved him off.

"Shame about Dan, sir," Derrick said when Roy left. "He was a good cook. Roy and him... well, were more than just ship mates, you know."

Bolart grinned. "Let's wait until the debris cloud settles. I want to sweep for what's left."

Stalking Punkie's Thoughts (Punkadyne Labs (Punkwalrus))

My latest brain droppings
  • 10:47 In class: The consultant teacher pronounces "Linux" as "LEE-nucks" [cringe] #
  • 10:48 In class: The consultant teacher pronounces "CentOS" as "sen-TOSS" [cringe] #
  • 10:49 In class: The consultant teacher pronounces "cron" as "krowhn" (as in "moan") [cringe] #
  • 11:21 In class: I have now decided to pronounce things, "Wine-DOHSS" and "Meh-CROW-soft" in retaliation. #
  • 13:26 In class: I shit you not, our teacher is describing his 12 year old lesbian daughter's woes and how he'd hide bodies on his property. #
  • 19:26 In class: The teacher tried to recruit me in some consulting referral group. What a banner day this has been. #
  • 19:27 When Douglas Adams died, I thought, "There goes my chance at being on a panel with him." I spoke too soon. See me at Balticon for details. #
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May 15

Salty in Seattle: Indie Ice Cream Complications (All Things Chill (Special*Dark)) by Spec

Molly Moon\'s

I found a post on Seattle’s Metblog about Molly Moon’s Ice Cream, a new ice cream joint a leisurely stroll from our place in Seattle.

Normally, when I experience something (brace yourself for the pun) savory or unsavory, I post about it in my blog… but since this post presented itself at the right place and the right time, I decided to unload and leave a comment.

I don’t want to get too harsh, but the salted caramel was wayyy too salty and gave an “off” flavor. It didn’t taste like Kosher or sea salt to me… more of an iodized tint.

All the way back home, I kept murmuring to myself “I really want to like this, I really, really do.”

That being said, the scoop underneath, vivant coffee, was good… but not good enough to make me forget about the caramel.

I’ll definitely be back, I *need* them to succeed! :)

Maybe salted caramel just isn’t my thang (even though I so want it to be). Yes, it was kinda harsh, but I made a promise yesterday that I’d be back to support the shop. I really want it to be a place where I can take all of my visitors and say “YOU WILL NEVER GET BETTER ICE CREAM ANYWHERE ELSE IN THE WORLD.” (or at least wherever the heck the person is visiting from.) Hee hee.

Go indie ice cream! :)

~Spec

Posted in: cuisine , seattle

Frustration Day! (The Jux Entente) by Crossed Reality

It’s frustration day everyone! FRUSTRATION DAY!

Fuck you, WPF.

Also see below.

Posted in: news

please keep it to a dull roar. (multifarious miscellany (kitters)) by ami

Waking up to the onset of a migraine means it’s very hard to be grateful for anything - except those magical green and white pills that come in the Excedrin Migraine bottle. They’re not helping completely, but at least I can’t see sound anymore.

I’ve basically been puttering around the house doing nothing important all day, which is sort of nice. I spent about an hour and a half this morning sowing seeds in our little seed starter greenhouse thing. This should be an interesting little experiment since I tend to kill plants, but the husband can keep them fairly healthy. Hopefully it’ll even out and at least half our plants will survive :P We bought a few plants that were already potted and those are already in the ground - the strawberries, tomatoes, and cucumbers. If our seeds successfully sprout and transplant, we’ll also have onions, carrots, green beans, and various types of peppers. Come to think of it, a rather significant percentage of our yard is under development. We pulled out nearly all the bushes and have replaced them with the vegetable garden, flower beds, or just plain grass.

It’s too bad gardening makes your hands so dirty… ugh…

Posted in: gratitude , house

Dietary Restriction for the Next Month (All Things Chill (Special*Dark)) by Spec

We’re going on a trip in a few months to do some things that require… not being out of shape and eating GREASE. LOL. So, in the effort to not gain any more weight, we have cut out a few things in our diets:

Soda, Coke, Pop - whatever you call it
Fries, chips and tater tots (I just wanted to type tater tots lol)

While it’s not a long list and also the fact that we don’t drink / eat these things regularly… when we do (or when *I* do for that matter), I go all out. And we all know how kinda gross and ugly that can be.

This won’t help me get into shape, but not defaulting into a ravenous gastronomic rampage is a good thang. Moderation people…

…moderation. :)

~Spec

Posted in: streaming conciousness

Twitter Digest for 2008-05-14 (a salmon of doubt (shade1978)) by David


  • The Washington Post scores a flawless victory: http://tinyurl.com/5u6alx #

  • @jwright A lot of my twitter friends are reporting issues with newsgator today. hugs Google Reader #

  • @jwright As a bonus, the new Google Reader interface for the iPhone is pretty nice. google.com/reader/i/ for that. #

  • @Scobleizer That’s a terrific example of why I’m less excited about photography as a hobby these days. #

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Posted in: twitters

"Banenmarkt", what an afternoon (Kilala.nl (Cailin Coilleach)) by Cailin Coilleach

Wow, I am -beat-! =_=

The 1.5 hours I spent at the Banenmarkt at college really took it's toll on me :) It was a great gathering and I managed to speak to everyone I wanted to just barely within the time limit.

I dropped off a total of eight resumes, spoke to reps of eleven schools and have a few very good prospects. I also spoke with folks from three other educational organisations and their information was rather valuable as well (such as the perfectly swank Het Utrechts VO in kaart booklet).

A few reps seemed moderately positive about my suggestion of combining a teaching position/internship, with a full-time supporting role at their school. So that's a good sign :)

Right now, while I am still able of forming coherent sentences, I'm making sure I get all their contact info into my address book, so I can't lose it. After that I'm off to bed... I need some sleep...

Posted in: banenmarkt , career day , hogeschool utrecht , samenopleiden.nl , what a day

twitter updates for 2008-05-14 (Super Dave's Mundanities (DaveChen)) by dave

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Posted in: tweets , uncategorized

Stalking Punkie's Thoughts (Punkadyne Labs (Punkwalrus))

My latest brain droppings

  • 11:39 Man, what a lot of crabby people on the Metro today! #

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May 14

007 as a Homeless guy (Punkadyne Labs (Punkwalrus))


Homeless 007 - Watch more free videos

I am sure this is offensive on all kinds of levels, but I think it's a pretty funny and clever spoof. My favorite was the self-destruct button.

the lyrics to the indiana jones theme (Super Dave's Mundanities (DaveChen)) by dave

Accord to Alex Balk (via DrJonBoyG’s tweet), John Williams always write lyrics to his music first, even if it’s never heard. Here are the lyrics for the Indiana Jones theme:

In-di-ana fuck-ing Jones

In-di-ana moth-er-fuck-ing Jones

In-di-ana fuck-ing Jones

Bite my ball-sack you Na-zis I’m In-di-ana fuck-ing Jones

The new movie will be out soon. Let’s all sing along!

Posted in: uncategorized

Follow the Mars lander Phoenix on Twitter? [space] (Clint Ecker (clintology)) by Clint Ecker

Love space probes? Love the latest craze in Web 2.0 social goodness?

NASA is operating a twitter feed for the progress of their latest planetary lander, Phoenix, which is going to make a controlled landing near the pole of Mars on May 25th!

Posted in: space

mmm…. brown water. (multifarious miscellany (kitters)) by ami

Coffee, that is. Not water with every known color of food coloring mixed in. Why am I so grateful for coffee? Sure, it tastes good. And it’s warm and comforting. It’s the perfect end to a long day (decaf, of course). But no, that’s not why I’m grateful for coffee. The reason for that is because a coffee date is what really started my friendship with Nean. One visit to her house for coffee, and it was all downhill from there - at least, if you ask my husband :P

Posted in: gratitude

Protected: Private (Stonetable) by Adam

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Posted in: uncategorized

Nom nom nom (Eighty1 (Thallium)) by eighty1

I keep forgetting that San Diego has really good food and drinks. What I mean is that there are restaurants and breweries here committed to serving the best of local faire in creative and original ways. For example, take The Linkery: locally-owned, community-oriented and dishing out small farm foods. The beer selection is excellent and the food is tops. I love the place and although the prices are a bit high (assuming you go all-out: full choucroute plate, a beer or two, appetizer, coffee, dessert) and it’s a bit crowded (they’re moving to a bigger place soon) it is a unique dining experience. Alpine Beer Co. is another local favorite: they make possibly the best IPA I’ve ever had (Pure Hoppiness) and remain true to the San Diego brewing spirit. The fact that they’re regularly featured at O’Brien’s doesn’t hurt either.

I bring all this up because I’ve been trying to avoid fast food and commercial eating establishments; that I don’t really know what goes in to my food has always bothered me and it is refreshing to know that at least someone in this city cares about how my food tastes as well as what the ingredients are. The victim here, then, is my gut… but I suppose that makes me a masochist for a good meal. :D

Posted in: news & such

"Banenmarkt" at Hogeschool Utrecht (Kilala.nl (Cailin Coilleach)) by Cailin Coilleach

A blouse, my resume and some calling cards.
An ironed shirt, a stack of resumes and a pouch of calling cards... This can only mean one thing! We're going networking again! ^_^

Today my department in college (hint: the .edu dept) 's holding their annual banenmarkt; call it a "career day" if you will. For about three hours, students will get a chance to talk to reps from all kinds of high schools in our region. The objective, of course, is to get your foot in the door for an internship or a teaching position.

As I mentioned earlier, I'm on the lookout for a real teaching position. I need the experience and I'm anxious to try my hand at a steady teacher's job. So, while I will definitely grasp any internships I can get, I will be on the prowl for fulltime jobs. Or at least to get my name out there.

This is going to be interesting! :)

Posted in: banenmarkt , career day , education , hogeschool utrecht , jobs

Another fun day on the Metro (Punkadyne Labs (Punkwalrus))

Today was a terrible day on the Metro... for other people. I was okay, but feeling uncomfortable as this sunny weather and what I considered happy weather seemed to anger everyone on the way in this morning.

I am reading my book, when suddenly I hear a voice scrape across the air, "You know, other people don't want to hear your phone conversations." A quick glace showed a confrontation between two men. The man on the phone looked like a distinguished businessman with a very low voice; so low, I didn't even register he was on the phone even though he was maybe 3 feet away from me or less. That's the Metro for you. But sitting in a seat a foot away was the kind of guy you just want to punch on principle. An older guy with a bike helmet, a "Northern Face" jacket, shorts, and a messenger bag. But it wasn't how he looked that bothered me, but his patronizing tone to the businessman standing up in front of him.

The business man said something which sounded like a gracious apology, but the older man just kept talking like he was condemning an errant teenager who just said the F-bomb in front of his small children. "A lot of people have to share the Metro, you can make that call at some later time." I wanted to stand up and go, "What the FUCK? How would YOU know? He can use his damn phone all he likes, and I wasn't even aware he was talking until your irritating anal-control voice slithered into my ear like oily barbed wire." But I didn't. I am not sure what the man said next, because again, he had a quiet, low voice. But the old guy kept shaking his head, "No. NO. You can make that call outside the Metro. Now hang up that phone." The business man decided to do so rather than fight, but the old guy lectured him for another minute or so. It took me a while to calm down in sympathy. What a prick!

Then a little later, another guy started hassling this young woman sitting next to him. "Move your pointy elbows!" he said. The way he was sitting was seriously encroaching into her space because he had a rolling suitcase, a duffel bag, and was holding onto all of it instead of keeping it on the floor. The woman said something back, and his response sounded like, "Well, some of us weren't born rich and privileged." Finally, he moved to an empty seat, but when he made eye contact with me he shook his head and said, "Women can be so self-centered."

Yeah, so can asshats with luggage.

Then there was a really bratty private school kid with possibly his older sister. I see a lot of private school kids on the Red Line, and many of them are rambunctious and rude. In this case, the younger kid who looked about 7 or 8 was climbing all over the seats while he teenager sister was yelling at him to stop. All he did was mock her, laugh, and generally act monkey-like in his taunting. Finally, one of her attempts to grab him worked, and she pulled him across the seat, pulled down his pants, and spanked the hell out of him. The kid just said, "Oh yeah. Uh huh. I like dat! Smack my ass!" Her blows were weak and ineffective, and finally the kid wiggled away, even more hyper. He started doing a dance out of her reach, and then started jumping on the seats. Not two seconds after I thought, "God's going to take care of this one," the kid slipped and fell ON HIS THROAT over a handlebar on the back of the seat.

His tune changed quickly. He started to cough and then cry. His sister came over to look at him, but he jerked away, gasping. Then they got off at Fort Totten, so I am not sure how badly he was hurt. But as they left, she was saying, "I told you not to do that. I told you you'd get hurt, but you're such a stupid ass you don't even listen to anything!"

Fun day! Posted in: angst , bad moods , metro , rant

colbert parodies o’reilly (Super Dave's Mundanities (DaveChen)) by dave

Posted in: video

The day there was no news [life] (Clint Ecker (clintology)) by Clint Ecker

Posted in: life

Twitter Digest for 2008-05-13 (a salmon of doubt (shade1978)) by David


  • New Google Reader for iPhone == awesome. #

  • @georgenemeth That annoys me about twhirl too… Twitteriffic also has that same annoying behavior. #

  • @sillyevar Signed Exact English or ASL? Be careful, that’s as much a religious issue as Python vs. Ruby or dynamic vs. static. ;) #

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Posted in: twitters

Advanced Twitter Fu: Become a Master (Tiny Screenfuls (JoshB)) by Josh Bancroft

Everyone talks about Twitter. It’s hard to describe why people like it and use it so much. You have to use it, and connect with some people, to really see why it’s worth it. If you’re looking at it from the outside, like watching the public timeline, it’s going to seem stupid and useless. That’s because, used like that, it is.

BUT.

If you know what you’re doing, Twitter is a REALLY POWERFUL and REALLY COOL way to connect with people. You can find basic, “entry level” explanations about why you should use Twitter everywhere. I even wrote such a post a couple of months ago (which includes the excellent “Twitter in Plain English” video, which you must watch if you haven’t already). The rest of this post is going to assume you have a (very) basic understanding of what Twitter is, and how it works. If not, go read my previous post, watch the video, and come back. I’ll wait. :-)

The Twitter Fu is Strong With This One

What I want to talk about here is some advanced “Twitter Fu” - techniques for “power users” (I hate that term), and people who are ready to start taking advantage of some of the really remarkable things you can accomplish with it. This isn’t comprehensive, of course, but I do speak from experience. What I’m going to write about comes from my daily use and experience with Twitter (which started in July 2006, making me an old timer in the Twitterverse. Most importantly, I want to show some ways you can use Twitter to accomplish something REALLY remarkable - connect up people in a community (or build a new community) with strong ties.

Here’s the reason I think all of this is so important. My job, and Intel Software Network’s mission, is to build community. Community grows from connections made between people with a common interest. One way people make connections is through conversation. Real conversation in their natural human voice, with another human. You can’t have a conversation with a corporation. You just can’t. This is why I’m always harping on conversations, conversations, conversations! Twitter (and blogs, and other net tools, too) makes it easy to have more conversations, and thus build more connections, with other humans. You increase your “human surface area” - the ways people can connect with you. If you’re a software person, think of it as exposing a new API endpoint for people to hook into and use. And when you have more and more of these human connections, a really cool thing emerges - community. See how that all ties in?

Enough philosophical background. Let’s get on the the real, practical things you can do to become a high level Twitter Fu Master.

Grow Your Network, Carefully

Twitter is useless without following people. But it’s worse than useless if you follow people you don’t know. The public timeline, while it may be an entertaining peek into what the entire world is saying, isn’t going to do anything to connect you to those other people. Your network is the heart of Twitter. Guard it jealously. Follow people you know (either in real life, or through online interactions, or whatever). Don’t follow people you don’t know, or who you don’t have any reason to follow, other than because they followed you. In other words, don’t follow someone if you have no idea who they are. Reciprocating a “follow” on Twitter is NOT required, and no one is going to get offended if you don’t follow them back just because they followed you.

I did this in the beginning, and I found that it just added noise to my Twitter stream. So I pruned my “following” list down to people I had either met in real life, or knew from some other interaction. Basically, it came down to “do I have to think for more than half a second to know who this person is?” If they don’t pass that test, I don’t follow. You’ve got to keep the signal to noise ratio of your Twitter stream as high as possible. It’s hard enough only following people you DO know.

However, as commenters below have reminded me, it can be fun and useful to add new followees based on who the people in your network are talking with. You’ll naturally get to know new people through Twitter, and your network will grow. This is a good thing. I just think you should be careful, and no go crazy and add everyone and their dog (or cat) without a reason. Or, as @scobleizer says, “You are defined by who you follow.;-)

Use a Desktop Client and Your Phone

There are two times you’ll want to use Twitter: when you’re at your computer, and when you’re not. For when you’re at your computer, I highly recommend using a desktop client application, which makes your Twitter stream kind of like an IM conversation. It’s always there, you can pay attention to it, or hide it in the background. But having a desktop client has lots of advantages over using the Twitter.com web page to engage with your network.

There are lots of desktop clients to choose from. I personally use and love one called Twitterrific, from Craig Hockenberry and Icon Factory. It’s Mac only, but I love it because a) it’s beautiful, b) it uses Growl for notifications, and c) I’ve been using it since it came out, and I’m used to it (inertia is a powerful thing). If you’re not on a Mac, or for some reason you don’t want to use Twitterrific, there are some awesome clients that use the cross platform Adobe AIR runtime (Windows, Mac, and now Linux). Spaz, Twhirl, and Alert Thingy are worth a look. They all do pretty much the same thing, but some offer features like integration with FriendFeed, Jaiku, Pownce, etc. Try them all and find one you like.

A desktop client is for when you’re sitting at your computer (which, for me, is most of the day). If you’re anything like me, you have a whole bunch of browser windows or tabs open at any given time. It’s worth it to have Twitter outside of that, in its own place. You can see the stream of conversation in your network flow by, hop in and tweet or reply to something, and get alerted when there’s a reply or direct message directed at you. If you need to concentrate, and avoid distraction, just hide or close the app.

When you’re away from your computer, use Twitter on your phone. Any cell phone that can do text messaging is a great Twitter client. Just enable your Twitter account to work via text messages on your phone. You have full control over what alerts/incoming messages you receive (all, direct, etc.). I follow so many people that the volume of tweets is just too much to deal with in text messages (not to mention expensive!), so I only get a text message from Twitter when I receive a Direct (private) message. But, even if you get no text message alerts at all, it’s important to set this up, so you can SEND tweets from your phone. Then, get in the habit of doing it.

If you have a phone with a web browser (iPhone, BlackBerry, Windows Mobile, or whatever), you can use the Twitter mobile web interface at http://m.twitter.com. It’s fast, light, and provides an easy way to both read your tweets and post new ones from your phone. Depending on the device you have, there are other options. iPhone owners should check out an amazing web-based Twitter interface for iPhone called Hahlo (and rumor has it there will be an iPhone version of Twitterrific as soon as Apple launches the iPhone App Store - I can’t wait!). For BlackBerry and Windows Mobile devices, there are free applications you can install on your phone to use Twitter. I haven’t used any of these, so I can’t really make a specific recommendation, but do some Googling, ask around on your Twitter network, and you can probably find one that you like.

Integrate Twitter With Your Online Life

Remember how I said that the whole point of all of this is to increase your conversational surface area, to make it easier for people to connect to you by conversing with you? To aid in that, you’ll want to include hooks/links to your presence on Twitter from the other places where you interact with people.

At the very least, put a link to your Twitter page on your blog and in your email signature and on your business cards.

Beyond that, there are a ton of great options for integrating your Twitter “microposts” (as I call them) on your blog, from a simple javascript badge to more complicated integrations (like the way I do it on my blog, which I explain “how and why” in this post). You can make this as simple or as complex as you want. Go nuts. But do it.

If you use social networks like Facebook, chances are there’s a way to integrate your Twitter conversations. Facebook lets you connect your tweets with your “Status” updates on Facebook, and vice versa. I haven’t used them, but there are ways to integrate Twitter with your MySpace page and I’m sure there are more. Again, do some Googling, and ask your new most valuable knowledge sharing tool, your Twitter network.

Don’t Miss Any Conversations

Twitter lets you direct a message at a specific person in two ways. First is the direct “D” message, which sends a private message that only the recipient can see. This is kind of like a short email. The second, and far more common way is the @reply. You can indicate that a tweet is for a certain person by typing @theirusername. Twitter turns that into a link to that person on Twitter, and TRIES to bring that message to their attention. But they way they do it is broken. It doesn’t work if the @username part isn’t at the beginning of the tweet. It doesn’t work if they don’t have their Twitter settings configured to show them “All @ replies”. If you want to be a Twitter master, you have to take a couple of extra steps to make sure that you don’t miss any messages directed at you using the @ sign.

This is where third party search tools like TweetScan and Summize come in. I’m assuming you’re using a feed reader/aggregator like Google Reader (you ARE using an aggregator, aren’t you? If not, we need to have a serious talk). If so, you can use TweetScan or Summize to do a search for your username, then subscribe to the feed for those search results. Presto - you’ll know every time someone even mentions your name on Twitter, whether you’re following them or not. At the very least, you need to do this. But search is powerful, and can do some other cool things, too.

For some reason, people often misspell my username on Twitter, or just make up some @username that has parts of my name, but isn’t anywhere near correct. No problem. I just set up search feeds on Summize to look for jabancroft (the correct name), bancroft, jbancroft, and joshbancroft. That way, I hear what people are saying about/to me, no matter how badly they butcher my name. If you know of common misspellings of your username, you should subscribe to search feeds for those, too.

Also, if there’s a specific topic, company, or product name that you want to track on Twitter, to see what people are saying, you can simply create a search feed for that word/phrase and subscribe to it. Twitter has a “track” feature, but it only works if you get updates via text message or IM - it doesn’t work if you use the web or a desktop client app. I have a few search feeds on Twitter - one for “Intel“, for example - that let me see everything people are saying, good and bad. Can you think of something that would be useful for? If you can’t, you’re probably not trying hard enough.

But Wait! There’s More!

Wow, this post got long. But I still have more to say. Specifically, some techniques about building groups and communities of interest on top of Twitter (something it lacks the native ability to do) using some simple tricks, and mashup tools. The online shoe seller Zappos.com has been getting a lot of press lately for their use of Twitter, and I’ve been involved in a couple of really cool mashups in the Portland geek community, like PulseoFPDX.com. How is this useful, rather than just interesting? Besides being a peek into the “stream of collective consciousness” of a particular group of people on Twitter, it’s a great way to find people to connect with. You know, build community by connecting with other people you know and have something in common with.

And I’ve got a few more tricks up my sleeve, too, so stay tuned! :-)

Posted in: blog , howto , techniques , tips , tools , twitter

Astronomers Discover Elusive Object (Stonetable) by Adam

NASA is holding a press conference tomorrow afternoon to announce the discovery of an object that astronomers have been hunting for more than fifty years. I’ve seen some wild speculation, ranging from a black hole to evidence of life on Mars. Whatever it is, though, I swear that I had nothing to do with it.
Posted in: science , uncategorized , writing

twitter updates for 2008-05-13 (Super Dave's Mundanities (DaveChen)) by dave

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Posted in: tweets , uncategorized

Fiction: Space Pirates vesus S.U.N.G.O.D. (Punkadyne Labs (Punkwalrus))

I am depressed, have a mild migraine, feel restless, and wanna write. Sorry, it will be a little rough, I don't have the patience to edit when I am like this.
____

In the darkness of the universe, a small ship slid through the spaces between the stars. Anyone scanning this section or space would have seen the ship as a cloud of space dust among the billions of similar clouds that drift like ghosts of long-forgotten collisions. The ship was surrounded by thousands of small nanobots, collectively acting like cloaking device, and at the same time, scanning for anything interesting they came across.

The captain of the ship was sitting behind her shuttered windows, lounging in her captains chair amid some dirty laundry, food wrappers, and piles of assorted brick-a-brack from other worlds. Behind her was a poster of "the model employee," distributed by the shipping company that owned the cargo freighter she piloted. She was not dressed in the snappy blue navy jump suit uniform pictured on the mannequin in the poster, but in a pair of loosely fitted sweat pants and a stained white tee-shirt. Her bare feet propped up on an instrument panel, the only piece of the official uniform Captain Eliza Chilihar wore was the company cap which kept her long strawberry blond hair slicked back in a loose and sloppy braid. It said, "S.U.N.G.O.D." which was the company name. It didn't stand for anything anymore, having been a logo bought out in a massive super-conglomerate buyout eons ago, but seemed like a good trademark for a long-distance shipping company that delivered into the outermost reaches of mapped space.

She was reading a large newspaper she had picked up in Verde Mujeres, a large cluster of resort platforms orbiting a small white-green dwarf star. Unlike a majority of published media, this newspaper was actually static ink printed on a fiber that was both edible and delicious. But Eliza was not thinking about the spicy-minty goodness that was to follow when she was done reading, but some subtext about difficulties in obtaining weapons in the system she was about to deliver to.

See, her ship was stocked with sugar skulls, a type of delicacy Verde Mujeres was famous for, and in the interests of tourism, none of them were allowed outside the system. So, of course, Eliza had them practically packed to the walls in her ship. And the merchants who made them, of course, sold them to her for a reduced price, because the fact that Eliza showed up with an empty ship to their loading dock and handed them untraceable credit vouchers. All very illegal, mind you, but S.U.N.G.O.D. paid so poorly, that practically every driver in the employee roster was a smuggler. It was an unspoken agreement between S.U.N.G.O.D. and their employees that they were simply putting warm bodies to guard the ship between the vast stretches of space, and the smuggling was not allowed whatsoever by official company policy... providing they had an employee stupid enough to be caught in the act. That happened a lot, and the cargo seized was "destroyed" in an unregulated manner that involved promising some government official the goods were tossed into a boiling sun. Maybe that actually happened a few times.

But the fact that weapons were hard to come by near her destination did not mean the area was at peace, but quite the opposite: planning for war. The the nature of arms missing suggested a very haphazard war, which meant several splinter groups fighting among what small pieces of drifting rock around the orange sun they occupied. The central government of Sol Guapo was corrupt even at the best of times, but since the colonization over 100 years ago, they have had a dozen bloody revolutions. The current military government had been holding peace for nearly 12 years, but the leader was assassinated a few years ago, and his son seemed to sew the seeds for his own overthrow: corrupt AND lazy.

Eliza's concern was two fold. One, people shooting at each other's ships would mean they wouldn't stop to buy sugar skulls off of her, and wouldn't have excess money to purchase them anyway. Two, she should have bought small ship-to-ship weapons when she was in the Yakuza Ichi system a few weeks earlier, because now they were the hot commodity. But the sugar skull express was always a sure bet before. This was Día Dela Mortal del Espacio Vacío, the annual worker's festival which employed a lot of workers from Verde Mujeres and other neighboring resort systems. Normally, a freshly imported sugar skull could fetch nearly ten times the asking price. But during times of war, the future seemed uncertain.

"Captain Eliza?" came a voice from the intercom.

"What is it Essar?" Eliza shouted back.

"The Cayman guard has found the problem with the drive core. It appears we can be back on track in a few hours. But we'll have to shut down the main engines and come to a full stop. Steerage will be limited to steering jets."

Eliza looked at her clock. "You have one hour."

"One HOUR? Look, captain, I--" but Eliza shut off the Intercom.

Navigational Officer Essar Eavesdrop stared at the blinking "connection lost" light. Her face screwed up with rage, she considered storming up to the main navigational room, and shooting down the door. But the sugar skulls packed in all the hallways were incredibly flammable, and she wasn't sure she wanted to look at the disrespectful mess that Eliza had made of what was supposed to me their main station at all times. She was upset enough that she had to sleep on a cot near the aft of the ship, where her personal belongings dangled from a rope she tied to the ceiling. Her otherwise company designated quarters served as a refrigeration room when they were smuggling perishables, or the stench of dirty laundry got to much to put near any ship atmosphere intake vent.

"Did she say we could turn it off?" asked security officer and chief engineer Thrust Flameripper. Thrust happily slept on the floor of the engine room, because as a former officer of the Caribbean Empire, he was used to toughing it out, and thought beds were too soft and perhaps a little dangerous. He was good with tools, and a very handsome man, but he wasn't as bright as Eliza or Essar would have liked.

"I guess, but she gave us an hour."

"Okay," said Thrust,

"That's NOT okay!" Essar protested. "That's not nearly enough time to even remove the access panel. It's just..."

"Just what?"

Essar looked at Thrust's simple eyes and shook her head. "Never mind, just turn it off and do it as Eliza said."

"Okay."

Essar returned to her cot, and looked at herself in a mirror she hung up on the wall with some strips of gray adhesive bands. Was this where she wanted to be at 35?

Essar came from a wealthy Terran family who owned a vast stretch of land on the eastern shores of the Indian Ocean. Her arranged marriage to Danni Thistledown was cut short when he died at the young age of 4 in a dachshund wildlife preserve. Thus, at 3, she was already a widow. Left to her own devices, she became a very self-reliant girl, and used to roam around her father's property for days at a time, stopping at one of the various guest villas only to sleep and use the toilet. When she was 8, she watched the hustle and bustle of her father's spaceport near Mogadishu and decided to become a space pilot. Sadly, in her father's culture, girls did not become space pilots except to add to a "skills list" to make a marriage more attractive, and even that was rare, because being a space pilot would mean she'd have to leave her father's enforceable property.

But Essar became one anyway, mostly because she wasn't kept in line as some of her other 20 or 40 sisters, but also because the shaved head of an 8 year old widow made her indistinguishable from a boy. By the time she reached breeding age at 12, she was already top of her class. But when she achieved her first pilot's license at an almost unheard of age of 14, her father remembered that he could still marry her off to another wealthy family, and make back some of what he lost in her educational pursuits.

Essar took umbrage to this turn of events, and promptly took a ship outside of Terran space and told her father to kiss her ass. But Essar soon found out that being top of your piloting class did little to help one actually land a piloting job. After a lot of "assistant navigational officer" work, she got her first ship by age 22. A memorial barge.

A memorial barge is simply a large floating cemetery that slowly drifts between designated star systems in a 5-10 year cycle. These types of ships have spaces purchased by the wealthy elite who still want to travel in space after their death, and have scattered relatives visit them when the ship is piloted close to their star system. The ship she manned, "The Pine Crest Gardens," was one of the best ever made. The domed top consisted of one of the largest simple pieces of glassteel ever extruded, and it gave all the viewers a view of their local sun shining on the millions of memorial stones, wall plaques, and mausoleums arranged on the uppermost deck.

But that didn't swell Essar's ample chest with pride. It bored her. Her job was more administrative than hands-on; a sort of "who do we blame when something goes wrong?" kind of job. And the long hours that went into days and months dragged on endlessly. And she couldn't find time to relax, either, because the company that owned the ship were micro-managing every last detail down to the crease lines in her uniform, a complex series of starched layers of black and red cloth. Her daily duties included answer the staggering amount of requests to complain to the captain that the angle the ship had to the sun was not right, someone had defiled a grave marker, and other various petty complaints where one of her 360 other staff simply would not do.

It was only bay chance that she found out S.U.N.G.O.D. needed ship captains. One of the supreme executives of the company was there visiting his mother's grave, and spoke of the opportunity. But when she was finally hired, she was told she'd be a navigator again, and for the next few years she served under Milo Kuolema, a mysterious older man who didn't quite understand the "unwritten rules" of the employee-company relationship, and so actually ran a very disciplined, moralistic model of the ship for many years until he was killed by his own security officer in a bar fight.

Since Essar was the only employable survivor of that encounter, she was reassigned to Eliza, who made it clear in no uncertain terms that she wanted or needed a navigator or security officer. But since she had been caught falsifying pay records for these positions, she was put on "detention" and Essar was put in place with a recent Cayman retiree.

So now she was 35, and her delicate feminine looks were graying, sagging, and if she was a ship, she would have requested a paint job and trim upgrade years earlier. Essar had been sulking that even though she was the one who had piloted the ship that returned the bodies of her former captain and his security officer (he committed suicide after the incident) to the main company headquarters, she was simply reassigned to be a navigator. And she couldn't even blame it on being a woman, since Eliza, as far as she could tell, was a woman and very skilled pilot.

It was Eliza's attitude that really burned, though. She was very a non-feminine, anti-teamwork type of person. She wore casual undergarments most of the time, used the toilet without closing the door, and spent most of her shore time wheeling and dealing with some very subversive characters. And she didn't need Essar or Thrust to help her in any way. She treated them like unwanted cargo most of the time, and even in moments such at these where their skills came in useful, Eliza gave them no more recognition than defective system maintenance software.

Thurst called to her from the engine room. "Essar, you better come look at this."

Essar sat up from her cot, pushed in her hint of a round belly one last time in the mirror, and turned the corner to see Thrust bleeding heavily from his shoulder.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed. Reflexively, she said a 4-line prayer she learned as a little girl.

In Jabberwok they say,
Lives a man old and gray.
He keeps us all from harm,
The devil cannot charm.


"I know, right?" Thrust said, "the entire control conduit is fried."

"No, your arm!" Thrust looked. "No, your OTHER arm! It's bleeding!"

"Is that what that is?" Thurst asked.

Essar ran for a first aid kit on the wall. When she opened it, there was only a piece of paper with Eliza's handwriting. "IOU."

"Oh, god dammit!" she said, going back to her cot and pulling out a roll of gray adhesive tape. She looked around for some cloth.

"My old sergeant used to say 'All bleeding stops eventually,'" Thrust called from the engine room.

Essar found an old undershirt of hers. While it had some sentimental value, it wasn't so valuable that she wanted the security officer to bleed to death. She tore some strips of the shirt when she saw Thrust coming in, dripping blood on the floor.

"So, we can't do anything until we get that conduit fixed. It's completely shorted out."

"My God, Thrust, have you any sense of ... pain? Common sense? I can't put that blood back in you, you know!" Essar wrapped his arm with cloth and pushed him into her cot. The cot creaked in protest. Applying pressure, she put in a knot of strips directly on the deep cut, wrapped the bandage tightly, and taped the whole thing on his thick arm with frantic tape-ripping noises. "Hold still!"

"But the conduit--"

"The FUCKING CONDUIT CAN WAIT, Cayman! You are bleeding profusely and that has to stop before you die."

"My old sergeant used to say 'All bleeding stops--"

'YOU WILL SHUT UP NOW!"

Thrust fell silent. Essar looked at the impromptu bandage and sighed in relief it wasn't quickly turning red. "Okay, Thrust, I want you to lie down while I try and find a more permenent patch."

"We don't have any patch conduit, this is a massive fiber circuit break--"

"NO, IDIOT, your arm! Holy... gees God willy..." Essar stormed out of the aft section and started digging through all the piles of crap they hadn't traded yet. There HAD to be a first aid kit.

"How's it going down there?" asked Eliza's voice over the intercom. Her voice had a hint of patronized amusement.

"Thrust is hurt. I am trying to find some decent first aid. You got any--"

"Okay," Eliza cut her off. "I need to bring up the drive systems now."

"NO! The entire access panel is off, and it's unshield--"

"No, see, our nano-shield has picked up a large cloaked ship sliding towards out little neck of the woods real fast, and I don't feel comfortable being here when he arrives. I'd rather be--"

"The drive is down, the conduit to the primary engine is gone. Burned out, Eliza."

"Right." Eliza sounded like she was speaking to a small child. "That's why we have been using the secondary. Remember? You were supposed to FIX the primary so the secondary could get a little rest--"

"BOTH ARE DOWN, Eliza! What do you want me to do??"

"Both are down. Oh, fucking great, Essar. is Thurst there?"

"He's injured--"

"I'm HERE!" Thrust said, standing quickly at attention. But the lack of blood pitched him to the floor, where he head struck Essar's mirror, and a new leak started to form, only this time, Thrust didn't get up.

"What was that?" asked Eliza as if she really didn't want to know.

"Your security officer is now unconscious--"

"Are YOU conscious?"

"Yes, but--"

"Then get your conscious self to the engine room, and put the secondary engine online. Or primary. i don't fucking care which as long as I have full power ten minutes before immediately!!"

"Yes ma'am..." Essar said. The rules stated that disobeying a superior was immediate grounds for expulsion into space, "should that seem the safest option," which Essar was positive Eliza would say at her court hearing. She gritted her teeth and headed back to the engine room.

Meanwhile, the cargo ship, dead in space and drifting lazily to the left, was being watched by a group of large men huddled around a makeshift snooper monitor.

"It's a S.U.N.G.O.D ship," said the crew's chief security officer. "Registered under Captain Eliza since it last left port at Verde Mujeres. Crew of 3... one is a Cayman,,."

"Impressive," said another figure. "A Cayman would make for a formidable pet."

"Most likely shipping weapons to one of the rebels at Sol Guapo. Could be armed. Shoot them down or board her, sir?"

"Why not both? In reverse order, of course."

"Of course," smiled the security officer. "Start up the weapons system and put the gravity pump online... we're doing a standard board and sweep people. Lets GO LETS GO!"
May 13

2nd golf match (Super Dave's Mundanities (DaveChen)) by dave

Played another golf match today at Needwood golf course. I played really well again, shooting a 44. I don’t know my partner or opponents scores, but my partner had some good holes too. There was a stretch where we had 3 “net birdies” in a row. Two of them where holes where my partner shot pars, but he got extra strokes because of his handicap.

So we steamrolled our opponents ending up with a 4 hole lead with 3 holes to play. If I hadn’t had a 8 on one of the par 5’s I could have had a really good score.

I had a birdie on the 3rd hole, a par 3, just like last week. While last time I had to make a 20 foot putt, this week I was 6 inches from a hole in one. Pretty amazing because it’s not an easy hole at about 170 yards. I hit my hybrid 3 club, which has been pretty eratic.

Posted in: golf

Back home. (The Jux Entente) by Crossed Reality

I’m back from Denver. It was an awesome trip and a ton of fun, and I hope to write more about it later. Right now I’m kind of recovering from it mentally more than anything else.

I am pissed off at the AirTran counter zombies. Because of how slow they were Laura and I got separated in the airport and were unable to properly say goodbye. I don’t know when I’ll see her again or under what circumstances, so that really upsets me. As soon as I realized I wasn’t going to make it through security in time to see her off I got depressed. Now she’s off for Peru for 8 days in which I won’t even get to talk to her.

I loved Denver, though.

More later, if I feel like talking about it. Maybe just on the forum.

I miss her already.

Time to drown my sorrows in pizza.

Posted in: news

Rereading Beagle (Punkadyne Labs (Punkwalrus))

You know, there's a chance I might get to Peter S. Beagle Balticon weekend on a less mass scale than I am used to meeting authors. I have been invited to the place he's staying at over that weekend, and maybe he'll be there, and I sort of felt bad if I hung out with him and I was all, "I only know one book you wrote, and I was 10 when I read it." So I bought a copy, and started reading it last night. I mean, sadly, he's not the REAL reason I am going, it's to see two dear friends who I haven't seen in ages, but if Peter is there, I'd like to at least know about him more than "You're the guy who got shafted by Bankin Rass, right?"

I am finding there's a certain... flavor, older fantasy has. I haven't quite nailed it down, but it reminds me of a more obscure time when fantasy books had watercolor front cover illustrations, or pen and ink over a watercolor background. It was written the year I was born, 1968, and so while it's a little younger than Madeleine L'Engle's "Wrinkle in Time," it has that same feel. Like a junior adult fiction on a spinner rack. Back when sci-fi and fantasy were pulp paperbacks, and riding that edge of being for adults and for children.

I only vaguely remembered the plot. I don't even remember the ending exactly, which is good, because it's like reading it for the first time, only invoking old, old memories of, "Oooohhhh... that's where I got that concept from." I vaguely recall it ends on a depressing note, but then again, I found so did "A Wrinkle in Time," and apparently I had a very bent way of looking at things because I don't think that has a depressing ending now. Meg lives! So does her dad!

We shall see. Posted in: balticon , last unicorn , peter s beagle

Django project idea: Disqus application [django, internet, programming] (Clint Ecker (clintology)) by Clint Ecker

I’m putting this out there because I can see there’s a need for it. Disqus, which I mentioned in my previous post, has a couple of methods of integration.

The method I chose, the quick and dirty route, is to insert a chunk of JavaScript in certain places on your blog that injects comment counts, a comment thread, and a comment box into your page.

On the other side, is a great potential for true integration with your custom blog or site. Disqus has a fairly full featured API:

All API methods accept their parameters in the query string of a GET request. All requests MUST end with a trailing slash (before the query string). Requests are currently throttled per IP address. In the event that you are throttled, the data is retrieved from a cache of the previous request. Slug parameters are human-readable unique identifiers (usually a string shortword for describing an object, such as a thread’s title).

It is conceivable that an individual could construct a model or two that contains all of the information returns by Disqus’ API.

One hang up

The only issue I can see is trigging the importing of new comments. The comment form will likely have to be either constructed in a similar manner as the form injected via iframe when you slap the JavaScript bit into your site, or mimicked somehow. The submission of the comment (to Disqus’ server) would, ideally, trigger a refresh of the comments via the API.

The first problem is how you throw a local trigger on a submission to a site you don’t control. The second problem is the delay you’ll no doubt encounter in bringing that comment into your local system.

As it stands, most users expect their comment to show up once the page reloads, and it doesn’t seem entirely possible with the current API (or perhaps the documentation is out of date?). I would love if someone more familiar with Disqus or a developer could fill in any gaps I might’ve missed!

Posted in: django , internet , programming