Why I don't have friends:
- DRico_: Any recommendations on flying with dogs? Airlines or other tips?
- tlongino: I have found that dogs don't fly well. No matter how many I toss off the roof.
Don’t forget to send your love to someone special to you, today, even if it does have to be over the Internet. ;)
Take That Game Back (by MC Mos(tly) Deaf)
- John Longino: But, if they ever get the DRM unfucked for HOMM6, I can say that then I would recommend it.
- designertrevor@gmail.com/Home9879A308: Yes, but that's a huge "but".
- designertrevor@gmail.com/Home9879A308: Now, don't get me wrong:
- designertrevor@gmail.com/Home9879A308: I like big buts. I cannot lie.
- John Longino: And I and your other brothers cannot deny
- designertrevor@gmail.com/Home9879A308: When you play a game and get a little bitty taste cause that DRM's all up in yo' face you get sprung?
- You wanna pirate it
- 'cause you notice that game is fucked as shit
- Deep in the game it's preparing
- to stop working--I can't help staring
- Oh, man, I wanna get wit'cha
- But DRM's in the pict'cha
- My homeboys tried to warn me
- But that but you got
- Misinform me
- Oooh, say it's not OnLive
- You know you wanna get on my hard drive
- Well screw me, use me, 'cause you ain't playing on my PC
- I seen them playin'
- To hell with delayin'
- She's got game, lame, I can't even change my screen name!
- I'm tired of magazines
- Saying DRM's the thing
- Take your average gamerand ask of course
- She gotta pack it open source
- So fellas (yeah!) fellas (yeah!)
- Has your game got DRM? (hell yeah!)
- Well pirate pirate pirate pirate pirate that stuff!
- Take that game back!
- I like 'em free and unrestricted
- And it's interdicted
- I just can't help myself
- I'm actin' like an animal
- A pirate. Here's my scandal
- I wanna get you home
- and UH double up UH UH
- I ain't talking about no PS2 or
- Xbox 'cause consoles are for losers
- I wann'em high res and precise
- 'cause I rock keyboards and mice
- Mos(tly) Deaf's in fights
- RTS, FPS, gotcha dead to rights
- So I'm looking at G4 videos
- Playing these fucked up games like hoes
- You can have that DRM, fool
- I'll keep my game free and cool
- A word to DRM free games'a
- I wanna get wit' ya
- I won't cuss or hit ya
- But I gotta be straight when I say I wanna --
- Play till the break of dawn
Where to wear a hat?
- Emualynk: you wear your hat indoors?
- TheEnigmaticT: Emualynk: Not usually, no. But I did wear it indoors at PAX.
- TheEnigmaticT: And I've worn it while swimming, sailing, and surfing.
- TheEnigmaticT: Also worn it skiing, come to think of it. Why is it only "s" words?
- TheEnigmaticT: I need to go skydiving, clearly. And spelunking.
- Emualynk: Have you worn it while...
- TheEnigmaticT: ...
- TheEnigmaticT: My wife is a very patient women.
- TheEnigmaticT: ;)
- Emualynk /throws keyboard at wall
Just the essentials…
Packing successfully requires that you bring with you nothing that you can not do without for the duration of your trip. When you’re a professional nerd like me, though, the “essentials” contain some things that you might not expect to find in your luggage…
This includes such things as a backup computer (the little black one in the upper right), a hat (because you’re never prepared to travel if you don’t have a hat), six GOG.com shirts, my Kindle, and shaving soap and a badger brush.
I’ve grown up and grown old, though: I stopped packing my DS and PSP this year, because I simply don’t get a lot of use out of them when I travel, and it’s not worth the hassle of carting them around.
What do you pack when you travel that isn’t ordinary?
Rhymes with “art”
After a buddy of mine linked to this image, we had a little poetry exchange:
Me:
Now all of you ladies and lasses
from gents of low and high classes
expect works of art
from our pens and our hearts
but we’d rather just show you our…hallmark cards?
Gene
There once was a fellow named Trevor
Writing sonnets was his heart’s endeavor
But, I must confess
he’d gain more success
As a linguist, so cunning and clever.
Me:
Sonnets are great if ya know ‘ems
Your linguistic talent it show ‘ems
But shorter—and easy
Tho’ they make you queasy
Are limericks, the fart joke of poems!
“No cutsey tricks; you just die.”
And now, the grand finale for this week!
Me:
Even before he opened his eyes, the echoes from his breathing gave him an approximation of the size of the room he was in: 1.3 meters by 2 meters, give or take ten centimeters. The surfaces were clearly a machined or cast metal; after opening his eyes he also ascertained that it was not lit. He quickly maximized his volume, exploring the interior for any cracks of any sort. None whatsoever. A conundrum. With all of his senses set to their most sensitive as he explored the room he was in, he realized that it was possible to hear a quiet voice, tinnily broadcast through an intercom system of inferior construction. English. Male. Middle American, with a slight accent that indicated some other origin. Past middle age, and someone with no clear spoken indications of any cardiopulmonary health issues.
“No cutesey fucking tricks with you, Reed. You just die.
Waking up is the hardest part
Microfiction theme of “Our hero, rather regretting where he is” continues.
John:
Unconsciousness begrudgingly loosed its grasp on him. Gradually, he became aware of flickering points of light in the gloom. Indoors, then. The heavy earthy scent of the air, and the clinging dampness of the hard bed he was on suggested a dungeon or cave. A form shambled toward him, moving stiffly. His arms were heavy, possibly from the blow to the head, and bound besides. “Where am I?” he demanded, as much to gain initiative as to pierce the uncomfortable silence. “THe Pit of Despair…”
The room’s reek was overpowering from the stairs…
Continuing our “Places that our hero would rather not be,”
John:
The room was a shambles. Broken shelves spilled books, vases, and dead flowers across the floor. Roaches and ants meandered about, shuttling crumbs of food and bits of binding glue to their hidden stores. Two birds’ nests in the rafters shook faintly in the breeze, and hundreds of white splotches on the mildewed floor gave hint as to how long those birds had found roost here. Dust covered everything thickly, greasy from the cheap barbecue joint next door, and matted with hair from the pet grooming shop on the other side. The door creaked open, pushing rusty cans aside with a hollow rattle.
