Get a load of this shit. MSNBC has been posting ultra-HD pictures from the RNC; pictures you can zoom & scan with this cool browser plugin from MS Research called HDView.
It might sound hokey, and it kinda is. But, it's powerful. Imagine being able to use it for many world locations for realtime HD views, and you start to see the possibilities. At McCain's big acceptance speech, I was able to find Karl Rove. You can't hide, you pudgy evil fuck! Here, look:
Enjoy your big moment, Karl!
It might sound hokey, and it kinda is. But, it's powerful. Imagine being able to use it for many world locations for realtime HD views, and you start to see the possibilities. At McCain's big acceptance speech, I was able to find Karl Rove. You can't hide, you pudgy evil fuck! Here, look:
Enjoy your big moment, Karl!
At once the single stupidest, most insulting motion picture I have ever watched in my entire life.
For the lion's share of Sandler's movie career, he has been an unassuming buffoon who dispatches his tormentors with bouts of wheezing, nasally cries of rage and outlandish, disproportionate, often shocking acts of physical violence.
In this turn, he is a full realization of the entity to which he has always aspired. He is superhuman; invincible. He has an enormous package and fucks every woman he sees. In every situation into which he enters, he is almost godlike in his ability to overwhelm every one and every thing he touches.
Why is this troublesome to me? The movie is racist, senseless, baseless, humorless, xenophobic, fantastically psychotic and violent, tone-deaf, sickening, hateful, spiteful, scornful, mirthless, witless, and pointless.
The protagonist rejoices in his ability to debase elderly women in a serial, bafflingly intense way. He perpetrates violence on young children, animals, or anyone who gets in his way. Yeah? He plays hacky-sack with a cat, or urinates on it, or smothers it in hummus. Why? What on Earth is this egomaniacal, outrageously unfunny, insanely mindbending display of comic action, bodily fluid slapstick, and conflict-dismissing descent into complete and utter nihilistic, pan-corporate, godforsaken human degradation? Why does Mr. Sandler wander across a beach, fully nude, catching both a hacky-sack and a grilled fish in his ass cheeks within the span of 2 minutes?
I should've walked out. I stayed until the last frame, hating this abomination with every fiber of my being. This is is neither comedy nor entertainment. It is agonizing tragedy. It is Adam Sandler masturbating into a violin on film while we all march toward the Auschwitz of our human souls.
Please, Jesus, strike dead tonight Misters Smigel, Sandler, and Apatow, as well as anyone who aided and abetted them in producing and unleashing this visual, auditory, and experiential atrocity.
Zero stars.
For the lion's share of Sandler's movie career, he has been an unassuming buffoon who dispatches his tormentors with bouts of wheezing, nasally cries of rage and outlandish, disproportionate, often shocking acts of physical violence.
In this turn, he is a full realization of the entity to which he has always aspired. He is superhuman; invincible. He has an enormous package and fucks every woman he sees. In every situation into which he enters, he is almost godlike in his ability to overwhelm every one and every thing he touches.
Why is this troublesome to me? The movie is racist, senseless, baseless, humorless, xenophobic, fantastically psychotic and violent, tone-deaf, sickening, hateful, spiteful, scornful, mirthless, witless, and pointless.
The protagonist rejoices in his ability to debase elderly women in a serial, bafflingly intense way. He perpetrates violence on young children, animals, or anyone who gets in his way. Yeah? He plays hacky-sack with a cat, or urinates on it, or smothers it in hummus. Why? What on Earth is this egomaniacal, outrageously unfunny, insanely mindbending display of comic action, bodily fluid slapstick, and conflict-dismissing descent into complete and utter nihilistic, pan-corporate, godforsaken human degradation? Why does Mr. Sandler wander across a beach, fully nude, catching both a hacky-sack and a grilled fish in his ass cheeks within the span of 2 minutes?
I should've walked out. I stayed until the last frame, hating this abomination with every fiber of my being. This is is neither comedy nor entertainment. It is agonizing tragedy. It is Adam Sandler masturbating into a violin on film while we all march toward the Auschwitz of our human souls.
Please, Jesus, strike dead tonight Misters Smigel, Sandler, and Apatow, as well as anyone who aided and abetted them in producing and unleashing this visual, auditory, and experiential atrocity.
Zero stars.
Welcome to my website. I don’t usually blog about politics, because they are stupid. However, I couldn’t help but be completely taken by the massive divide between the two presumptive mano e mano dudes we were presented with earlier this evening. So, I created a video. I hope everyone on Earth sees it, because it’s a complete embarrassment to the worthless old bastard the Republicans chose through their careful, hasty primary process. Obama’s a good guy. McCain’s a rotten old bastard.
Basically, that’s all you need to know. Please leave me alone and don’t leave comments on any blogs on this fucking blog. Hackers broke the cgi script, and I never rewrote it, because I don’t care what anyone has to say on my bluggins anyway. Good day, y’all!
Continue reading Hi YouTube!.
Barack Obama has brought to the surface the simmering issue we've all faced since the day we were born in this country: we will never view people of a different skin color from our own as our human equivalent. To be honest, my high school education in Lincoln, Nebraska paid semesters-worth amounts of time to covering thing like segregation, "separate but equal," and apartheid. What good came of it? I'm not talking about myself, personally. What does education do to improve racial equality? What does seeing many many videos of Southern blacks being sprayed with firehoses in the '60s do to bring one's level of understanding to a new place?
It never does anything. The biggest single hurdle Obama is facing in his quest for the presidency is that people will judge him by the color of his skin, rather than the quality of his character. Has there ever been a politician like Mr. Obama? A black man will be the Democratic nominee for President of the United States. Look through your history books. Dissect the imagery. Give it another look beyond that. Did you ever expect this in your lifetime? Whitey could let a black man be ruler of the land. It's only a few steps from happening. Will it happen? How bullshit is it that I need to ask these questions?
As we've seen in West Virginia, and as we'll see in Kentucky, voters are rejecting Mr. Obama outright for the most baseless reasons imaginable. They don't think he has a way forward for our country. They think he's secretly a MOOSLEM. They think all kinds of things which aren't true, and they usually sit in pancake houses and breathe awful, undignified insults to his character to national news reporters through rotten teeth and bits of chewed bacon. Their color? White. These folks is as white as pure snow.
There's a guy out there preaching to the choir. Educated folks is selecting Obama by a large margin. Poor workin' folks is exposin' our inherent racism. No matter what education level you reach, you're a racist. Period. You have suspicions about other groups of races getting together and saying things about your race. Yes, you do.
What do we do? Why can't Obama be President? When you sit down in the voting booth (you are white), are YOU going to cast a vote for Mr. Obama over the white war hero John McCain? These narratives are set up so perfectly. A secret muslim black against a fuckin' WAR HERO white. What else can I even say?
We've been worried that the media is controlling our actions for quite some time. Now, there's a direct application of this principle. You've got an eloquent, fresh, brilliant man running for president in the hopes of getting to Washington and taking a Real Man look at how business is being done. On the other hand, you've got a rotten-to-the-core old bastard running for president who eschews Cialis in favor of imagined bombings of dark religious heathens. Yet, we're divided. We can't see the way forward. We are baited into our worst possible instincts. All of our education is naught in the face of Greta Van Susteren and Karl Rove sitting in a tiny studio playing clips of a black preacher taken out of context from a 7-year-old sermon and repeating line after line after line after line of sicko hitjob politics in order to crucify the black man on a modern media cross. For the corporate good. To make the shareholders get that extra-special chub as they hit the golf course this Friday morning in resplendent spring sunlight. You can't even smell the dust wafting in from Iraq's freshest smoldering child-remains-crater.
Let's go on with our business. We can't elect a black man to president. It's just not possible; the media just can't allow itself to tell the truth about what really might be afoot in our world. No. No, we can't. We sure, sure can't.
It never does anything. The biggest single hurdle Obama is facing in his quest for the presidency is that people will judge him by the color of his skin, rather than the quality of his character. Has there ever been a politician like Mr. Obama? A black man will be the Democratic nominee for President of the United States. Look through your history books. Dissect the imagery. Give it another look beyond that. Did you ever expect this in your lifetime? Whitey could let a black man be ruler of the land. It's only a few steps from happening. Will it happen? How bullshit is it that I need to ask these questions?
As we've seen in West Virginia, and as we'll see in Kentucky, voters are rejecting Mr. Obama outright for the most baseless reasons imaginable. They don't think he has a way forward for our country. They think he's secretly a MOOSLEM. They think all kinds of things which aren't true, and they usually sit in pancake houses and breathe awful, undignified insults to his character to national news reporters through rotten teeth and bits of chewed bacon. Their color? White. These folks is as white as pure snow.
There's a guy out there preaching to the choir. Educated folks is selecting Obama by a large margin. Poor workin' folks is exposin' our inherent racism. No matter what education level you reach, you're a racist. Period. You have suspicions about other groups of races getting together and saying things about your race. Yes, you do.
What do we do? Why can't Obama be President? When you sit down in the voting booth (you are white), are YOU going to cast a vote for Mr. Obama over the white war hero John McCain? These narratives are set up so perfectly. A secret muslim black against a fuckin' WAR HERO white. What else can I even say?
We've been worried that the media is controlling our actions for quite some time. Now, there's a direct application of this principle. You've got an eloquent, fresh, brilliant man running for president in the hopes of getting to Washington and taking a Real Man look at how business is being done. On the other hand, you've got a rotten-to-the-core old bastard running for president who eschews Cialis in favor of imagined bombings of dark religious heathens. Yet, we're divided. We can't see the way forward. We are baited into our worst possible instincts. All of our education is naught in the face of Greta Van Susteren and Karl Rove sitting in a tiny studio playing clips of a black preacher taken out of context from a 7-year-old sermon and repeating line after line after line after line of sicko hitjob politics in order to crucify the black man on a modern media cross. For the corporate good. To make the shareholders get that extra-special chub as they hit the golf course this Friday morning in resplendent spring sunlight. You can't even smell the dust wafting in from Iraq's freshest smoldering child-remains-crater.
Let's go on with our business. We can't elect a black man to president. It's just not possible; the media just can't allow itself to tell the truth about what really might be afoot in our world. No. No, we can't. We sure, sure can't.
Analysts are now predicting that Grand Theft Auto IV will sell 9,000,000 copies at launch. That's 9,000,000 people buying a single game title, at a price point ranging from sixty god damn dollars all the way up to ninety (I'm personally going in for the $90) at fucking launch. A little poking around on VGChartz.com has let me know that San Andreas topped out around 17,000,000 copies across platforms. This is roughly equivalent to the sales numbers of Super Mario Bros 3, which topped out just north of 17,000,000 copies moved as well (and is actually mistakenly thought to be the best-selling game of all time by many folks).
You remember the 80s? The era of big hair, big cars, and big money for Nintendo of America. Every fucking family in this country either possessed or was in lack of an 8-bit Nintendo Entertainment System; the artform of interactive livingroom entertainment itself was reclassified as "Nintendo" in popular lexicon, not unlike the way Kleenex replaced "facial tissue." With such wide penetration and such ubiquitous market mindshare and presence, you simply can't get more casual than the NES. All this Wii noize you're hearing now? It's actually approaching the NES, but it's not even close. No one was concerned about how these families were moving Mario and Link and all their cohorts around the screen with this complicated space-age controller interface. No. Not at all, in fact. You move the guy with this one and you jump with this one. That one is superspeed but you don't need it to have fun. Period.
Something created a great disconnect as these people stopped buying carts, right? Nintendo reimplemented analog controls in their mid-nineties console, desperately trying to grab back market share from the new kings of top-of-mind: Sony. Yeah yeah, fuck it. You don't need a fucking history lesson. The point is, there is this mistaken assumption out there that games are too intimidating for COMMON FOLKS and they don't know how to move a stick around and push some buttons and hit a trigger. For casual games to really hit mass consciousness, you need to dumb down all controls to simple (actually cumbersome and frustrating in the current implementation) gestures and pointing at shit. Then, and only then, can you appeal to the "casual gaming audience" and engage them in their living rooms.
What fucking absolute horse shit. I am insulted as a human being that we've got an industry press and large R&D departments at major hardware manufacturers saying that a fucking interface device with analog sticks and an array of conveniently-positioned buttons is too hard for people to understand. You think the 9,000,000 people buying Grand Theft Auto IV at launch are rocket scientists? Mega Uber Hardcore Gaming Cocks? No, no they sure aren't. They're geniuses and they're idiots. They dutifully pump your gas while simultaneously keeping your email account secure from hackers. They are jr. high dropouts; they are post-secondary degree possessing authorities on technology or medicine or business. What could bring such a disparate group of people together, all rallying around a single gameplay experience?
Because it contains something they all want. It might be different for you than it is for Hank, but it's something which is compelling that erstwhile "gamer" to pick up a controller and give it a go. Long before the PS2 became a jukebox attached to microphones, drums, and cheap plastic guitars, it was a cash cow profit center. And, every citizen of every country who bought one brought it home, unpacked it, and began interfacing with a device with more than 15 digital inputs and two analog sticks. What were they doing? Why was Sony profitable with such a hard-to-pick-up-for-the-average-idiot controller? How did we all get along before the RevolUTION!?!?
Those people have been forgotten. The vast array of casual gamers who made PS2 the victor of the last generation are presently being underserved by this notion that their play experiences of the past were not simple enough. The presentation too whizzamatronic, the interface too cumbersome, and the games themselves way way too hardcore. It's all twisted around. Just because really shitty "casual" games with motion control are really popular with kids, parents, old folks, and everyone else, people are pretending that the entire game has changed. That all gaming experiences can be condensed into your right hand, the way you move it, and ancient presentational elements scurrying around the screen collecting apples.
It's exactly the same in the PC web (flash) game market. Why are these games huge and profitable? Because it's easy to get into, it's universal, and it's free! It reminds me of something else which just isn't coming to mind... ..wait! I got it! Hold onto your hats for this next part.
The "casual" web gaming market is to the actual home interactive entertainment market as video pornography is to the actual motion picture theatre/DVD/broadcast market. No shit. Porn? Anyone can generate it; in their basement, in their bath tub, in their automobile... and it still holds some kind of market appeal. People want to see people naked, and doing stuff. Likewise, anyone can generate a "casual" web game. In their basement, in their bath tub, in their automobile... and it still holds some kind of market appeal. You have major-studio porn just like you have major studio "casual" PC games. They hold about the same level of interest. They're both vastly profitable, and growing astronomically as the Devil takes control of more and more "idle hands" across this increasingly digitized world. All of it is equally meaningless.
A large interactive entertainment studio has traditionally been about universal entertainment and ambitious gameplay themes -- things which captivate, inspire, and move you. Likewise (you see that I keep just comparing shit), the large motion picture studio has traditionally been about bringing droves of people to movie theatres. How casual is Titanic? It's, like, the most casual motion picture ever made! Do you see how fucking stupid these distinctions are becoming in interactive entertainment?
It's all about artistic expression. It always has been. And, with a game like Grand Theft Auto IV, it's an expression of that which makes video gaming essentially different from all other forms of entertainment: you are free. You take this man, and you move him. Left. Right. Jump. Shoot a fucking bazooka. These things will never change, and it appears that Rockstar North has created the state of the art in interactive freedom, while taking the expressiveness of the supporting game content to dizzying, delightful new heights.
Fuck "casual" gaming. I'm thinking about the underserved casual gaming market in the console space as those same people who want big experiences for their bucks. They saw Titanic eight times just like they bought The Lion King on DVD just like they think Legend of Zelda 10 sounds like an enticing proposition. Yes, these people watch porn, too, just like they do "casual" gaming late at night for hours on end without realizing why they're doing what they're doing. The average "casual" gamer, to me, could be approximated by some 35 year old bus driver spending all hours at Habbo Hotel, creeping up on people and then just standing there. Dick in hand. Guy is watching a windowed porno.
I hope I'm making myself clear. It's attention span. It's storytelling. It's universality. It's about making people DESIRE to get lost in your game or story or contest or struggle. It's all essentially human, but one method of interactive entertainment operates on a different plane than another, and doesn't allow the "other" to pretend to be a useful substitute. We don't go down to the Cinemaplex and watch two dudes tagteam a MILF in the back of a moving ice cream truck.
Let's stop catering to people who buy toys instead of games. Let's start hitting this VASTLY UNDERSERVED market; the likes of which is willing to snatch up NINE FUCKING MILLION copies of a "hardcore, obtuse" game title on opening day. You think these people aren't ready to spend money? You think they're satisfied swatting their fists in the air while pansexual ditties play and little cartoon FUCKS dance around onscreen? Let's leave the children at a different table than the one at which we all dine. Let's do this right.
You hear me. You know I'm right. Do it.
You remember the 80s? The era of big hair, big cars, and big money for Nintendo of America. Every fucking family in this country either possessed or was in lack of an 8-bit Nintendo Entertainment System; the artform of interactive livingroom entertainment itself was reclassified as "Nintendo" in popular lexicon, not unlike the way Kleenex replaced "facial tissue." With such wide penetration and such ubiquitous market mindshare and presence, you simply can't get more casual than the NES. All this Wii noize you're hearing now? It's actually approaching the NES, but it's not even close. No one was concerned about how these families were moving Mario and Link and all their cohorts around the screen with this complicated space-age controller interface. No. Not at all, in fact. You move the guy with this one and you jump with this one. That one is superspeed but you don't need it to have fun. Period.
Something created a great disconnect as these people stopped buying carts, right? Nintendo reimplemented analog controls in their mid-nineties console, desperately trying to grab back market share from the new kings of top-of-mind: Sony. Yeah yeah, fuck it. You don't need a fucking history lesson. The point is, there is this mistaken assumption out there that games are too intimidating for COMMON FOLKS and they don't know how to move a stick around and push some buttons and hit a trigger. For casual games to really hit mass consciousness, you need to dumb down all controls to simple (actually cumbersome and frustrating in the current implementation) gestures and pointing at shit. Then, and only then, can you appeal to the "casual gaming audience" and engage them in their living rooms.
What fucking absolute horse shit. I am insulted as a human being that we've got an industry press and large R&D departments at major hardware manufacturers saying that a fucking interface device with analog sticks and an array of conveniently-positioned buttons is too hard for people to understand. You think the 9,000,000 people buying Grand Theft Auto IV at launch are rocket scientists? Mega Uber Hardcore Gaming Cocks? No, no they sure aren't. They're geniuses and they're idiots. They dutifully pump your gas while simultaneously keeping your email account secure from hackers. They are jr. high dropouts; they are post-secondary degree possessing authorities on technology or medicine or business. What could bring such a disparate group of people together, all rallying around a single gameplay experience?
Because it contains something they all want. It might be different for you than it is for Hank, but it's something which is compelling that erstwhile "gamer" to pick up a controller and give it a go. Long before the PS2 became a jukebox attached to microphones, drums, and cheap plastic guitars, it was a cash cow profit center. And, every citizen of every country who bought one brought it home, unpacked it, and began interfacing with a device with more than 15 digital inputs and two analog sticks. What were they doing? Why was Sony profitable with such a hard-to-pick-up-for-the-average-idiot controller? How did we all get along before the RevolUTION!?!?
Those people have been forgotten. The vast array of casual gamers who made PS2 the victor of the last generation are presently being underserved by this notion that their play experiences of the past were not simple enough. The presentation too whizzamatronic, the interface too cumbersome, and the games themselves way way too hardcore. It's all twisted around. Just because really shitty "casual" games with motion control are really popular with kids, parents, old folks, and everyone else, people are pretending that the entire game has changed. That all gaming experiences can be condensed into your right hand, the way you move it, and ancient presentational elements scurrying around the screen collecting apples.
It's exactly the same in the PC web (flash) game market. Why are these games huge and profitable? Because it's easy to get into, it's universal, and it's free! It reminds me of something else which just isn't coming to mind... ..wait! I got it! Hold onto your hats for this next part.
The "casual" web gaming market is to the actual home interactive entertainment market as video pornography is to the actual motion picture theatre/DVD/broadcast market. No shit. Porn? Anyone can generate it; in their basement, in their bath tub, in their automobile... and it still holds some kind of market appeal. People want to see people naked, and doing stuff. Likewise, anyone can generate a "casual" web game. In their basement, in their bath tub, in their automobile... and it still holds some kind of market appeal. You have major-studio porn just like you have major studio "casual" PC games. They hold about the same level of interest. They're both vastly profitable, and growing astronomically as the Devil takes control of more and more "idle hands" across this increasingly digitized world. All of it is equally meaningless.
A large interactive entertainment studio has traditionally been about universal entertainment and ambitious gameplay themes -- things which captivate, inspire, and move you. Likewise (you see that I keep just comparing shit), the large motion picture studio has traditionally been about bringing droves of people to movie theatres. How casual is Titanic? It's, like, the most casual motion picture ever made! Do you see how fucking stupid these distinctions are becoming in interactive entertainment?
It's all about artistic expression. It always has been. And, with a game like Grand Theft Auto IV, it's an expression of that which makes video gaming essentially different from all other forms of entertainment: you are free. You take this man, and you move him. Left. Right. Jump. Shoot a fucking bazooka. These things will never change, and it appears that Rockstar North has created the state of the art in interactive freedom, while taking the expressiveness of the supporting game content to dizzying, delightful new heights.
Fuck "casual" gaming. I'm thinking about the underserved casual gaming market in the console space as those same people who want big experiences for their bucks. They saw Titanic eight times just like they bought The Lion King on DVD just like they think Legend of Zelda 10 sounds like an enticing proposition. Yes, these people watch porn, too, just like they do "casual" gaming late at night for hours on end without realizing why they're doing what they're doing. The average "casual" gamer, to me, could be approximated by some 35 year old bus driver spending all hours at Habbo Hotel, creeping up on people and then just standing there. Dick in hand. Guy is watching a windowed porno.
I hope I'm making myself clear. It's attention span. It's storytelling. It's universality. It's about making people DESIRE to get lost in your game or story or contest or struggle. It's all essentially human, but one method of interactive entertainment operates on a different plane than another, and doesn't allow the "other" to pretend to be a useful substitute. We don't go down to the Cinemaplex and watch two dudes tagteam a MILF in the back of a moving ice cream truck.
Let's stop catering to people who buy toys instead of games. Let's start hitting this VASTLY UNDERSERVED market; the likes of which is willing to snatch up NINE FUCKING MILLION copies of a "hardcore, obtuse" game title on opening day. You think these people aren't ready to spend money? You think they're satisfied swatting their fists in the air while pansexual ditties play and little cartoon FUCKS dance around onscreen? Let's leave the children at a different table than the one at which we all dine. Let's do this right.
You hear me. You know I'm right. Do it.
I just bought a really big fucking external hard drive. It's like 750 gigabytes, which is a shit ton of fuck. It's funny, though - when I bought the components to my new PC a year ago, I was like, "hmmm, 250 GB should last me for a few years." I'm on pace to shatter that within one year, and I couldn't even tell you how. Not a single byte of the drive space consumption is naughty movies, and I've only installed like 4 games. It's just getting out of control with music and funny vids and shit.
Anyhow, I was really struck by how odd it is to be buying storage in that quantity. I mean, adding it up, HOLY FUCK I'LL HAVE A FUCKING TB SITTING ON THE CORNER OF MY DESK. It was hard to imagine such a thing only a handful of years ago. Shit, my fam's 1st PC was like 850 MB. And now what do I have, like 750,000,000 kilobytes, roughly? It's funny that a 10 KB image is still fine enough to capture a fully recognizable image of my face. So, I could pass it to someone who knew me, on a flash card, and they'd say, "Adam!" It's amazing that you can do that -- something so universal and undeniably powerful -- with such a comparably infinitesimal portion of a modern hard disk drive.
What I've been discussing is the simple idea of a 10 KB visual depiction of my face being dwarfed into practical nonexistence by the medium which would store and retain it. Can you imagine that, in our lifetimes, a similar, let's say, 80 terabyte disk image of an exact replica of one's own human mind might be likewise rendered fully insignificant, by even the unfathomably large capacity storage devices we'll carry around in our front pockets?
Well, that is, if the terrorists don't destroy our civilization first and send all our progress back to the Dark Ages. That's why I'm voting McCain in '08.
Anyhow, I was really struck by how odd it is to be buying storage in that quantity. I mean, adding it up, HOLY FUCK I'LL HAVE A FUCKING TB SITTING ON THE CORNER OF MY DESK. It was hard to imagine such a thing only a handful of years ago. Shit, my fam's 1st PC was like 850 MB. And now what do I have, like 750,000,000 kilobytes, roughly? It's funny that a 10 KB image is still fine enough to capture a fully recognizable image of my face. So, I could pass it to someone who knew me, on a flash card, and they'd say, "Adam!" It's amazing that you can do that -- something so universal and undeniably powerful -- with such a comparably infinitesimal portion of a modern hard disk drive.
What I've been discussing is the simple idea of a 10 KB visual depiction of my face being dwarfed into practical nonexistence by the medium which would store and retain it. Can you imagine that, in our lifetimes, a similar, let's say, 80 terabyte disk image of an exact replica of one's own human mind might be likewise rendered fully insignificant, by even the unfathomably large capacity storage devices we'll carry around in our front pockets?
Well, that is, if the terrorists don't destroy our civilization first and send all our progress back to the Dark Ages. That's why I'm voting McCain in '08.
Why does our country have to be run by ugly, disgusting old bastards with withered, distended old bodies horribly aged and deformed by power and evil? Witness:
Holy shit, y'all! I gotta say, when I submitted a request with Mitt Romney's press team to conduct a one-on-one webcam chat with the big spoon presidential candidate, I expected to be turned down out of hand. My oh my! In a huge coup, Mitt decided to sit down with Adam Danger dot com for a chat to discuss the issues.
Well, or at least that was the idea. He's a real perv! I have the whole transcript, but check out this bizarre series of statements by Mr. Romney:
Hit the jump fuckas:
Well, or at least that was the idea. He's a real perv! I have the whole transcript, but check out this bizarre series of statements by Mr. Romney:
Hit the jump fuckas:
Continue reading Webcammin' with Big Spoon Mitt Romney.
If you haven't been following media coverage of Benazir Bhutto's assassination at the hands of the Pakistani government, it's been pretty goddamn hilarious. Javed Iqbal Cheema, the "Interior Ministry Spokesman" for the Musharraf government, has been busy at work making Baghdad Bob look like a patron saint of truth-telling. Fox News has lapped up his every rezonkulous claim and regurgitated his unchecked words as "headlinable fact." Witness:
If you look at their coverage splash from a few days ago, the following UNCHECKED FACTS become undisputed rightwinger currency:
Here's the video showing the shirt on Bhutto's back painted red with her own blood, in perfect sync with gunshots ringing out. Good thing the Pakistani government has assured us that everything will be cleared up once they exhume her and send us a written transcript (no media!!!~) of the re-autopsy. I was confused.
- Al Qaida himself sent a bomber to shoot at/frighten Benazir Bhutto
- Benazir Bhutto was so scared by the bomb that she hit her head on a sunroof lever and died immediately
- "The government says" is good enough, even when said government is pretty decent at routinely being FUCKING LIARS.
Here's the video showing the shirt on Bhutto's back painted red with her own blood, in perfect sync with gunshots ringing out. Good thing the Pakistani government has assured us that everything will be cleared up once they exhume her and send us a written transcript (no media!!!~) of the re-autopsy. I was confused.
America is a country. We're sick; deeply sick. Injured. We've suffered injurious amounts of sickness in a particular dimension of our being, amounting to the current confused state in which we all find ourselves. Who are we anymore?
When there's some awful malady that you can't ignore, the only way out is pain or death. Pain is suffered for the fix; the surgery. Which part needs surgery? The back? Is our back figuratively broken? No. You will never break the back of America. The backbone of America is embodied by some 67-year-old guy named Gus who gets up at 5:30 AM to head down to the city square and clean up your trash. That's the American back, and it remains healthy as hell.
Legs? A broken leg(s)? No, those are just fine. That's our economy, sound as ever. Cyclical, yes. The left leg of the government moves in time with the right leg of the free market. We would go in a fucking circle without one sweeping forward to carry the momentum of the other. There are rough times, but these legs cannot be broken.
Maybe our country has suffered a broken arm. Nope, doesn't seem that way to me. We trade with other nations and we produce our own goods just as well as anyone else on Earth. Maybe one arm takes more than the other produces, but that's not a broken arm. That's just confusion. Why so confused? Hold on a sec.
I have to address the heart. The heart of this country is not broken. They're serving in Baghdad and Kabul and anywhere else they are sent. They enable the flow of freedom through our circulatory system just like they always have, pumping and pumping in perfect athletic fitness. Our defenses alone determine the ability of our arms to reach and build and destroy, all through the providence of freedom's deep crimson bloodflow. Our blood burns hot as our heart suffers blow after blow, but it is not broken. Not yet.
Where are we at? What is broken? Why, it's the brain, you see. We've lost our conscience. Without a journalistic media that oversees and exposes the governance put forth by the other parts of the brain, we are addled by whatever wishes and fantasies those who are in control of every other part so desire. Corrupt and gripped with megalomania, psychotic murder-sick justifications of mass killing, and unimpeded desire to consume and alter everything within our sphere of being, we find our body out of control.
The conscience alone could correct this horrid affliction, but as such an abstract device in our body's function, it has been lost to the omnivorous greed of our brain's center: the ruling class. With the passion in our heart and the freedom in our blood, we the people of these United States (the moral instinct) could compel ourselves to be rid of the sickness that gnaws the inner workings of our brain and drives our entire body ever further toward ruin.
Surgery could fix the conscience. Excision of the old conscience and implanting a new one built on the moral instinct of our blood and moment could be the one fix that saves the brain, correcting the corruptive forces of the dominant ruling section. Our overtaxed and overworked body could begin to relax again. We could stop leaping over oceans and partitions, suffering constant bruises and infections, and we could just be again, walking along with the twin legs of economy, the arms taking and giving what is needed, and the back providing steady guidance and upright movement.
Destroy the mass media. Fuck them all. Let's get together and poison their efforts, check their every injustice, and lay bare their every trick. A malfunctioning part of our figurative mind cannot poison our blood, it can only compel us toward slow suicide. It must be our instinct to push back.
When there's some awful malady that you can't ignore, the only way out is pain or death. Pain is suffered for the fix; the surgery. Which part needs surgery? The back? Is our back figuratively broken? No. You will never break the back of America. The backbone of America is embodied by some 67-year-old guy named Gus who gets up at 5:30 AM to head down to the city square and clean up your trash. That's the American back, and it remains healthy as hell.
Legs? A broken leg(s)? No, those are just fine. That's our economy, sound as ever. Cyclical, yes. The left leg of the government moves in time with the right leg of the free market. We would go in a fucking circle without one sweeping forward to carry the momentum of the other. There are rough times, but these legs cannot be broken.
Maybe our country has suffered a broken arm. Nope, doesn't seem that way to me. We trade with other nations and we produce our own goods just as well as anyone else on Earth. Maybe one arm takes more than the other produces, but that's not a broken arm. That's just confusion. Why so confused? Hold on a sec.
I have to address the heart. The heart of this country is not broken. They're serving in Baghdad and Kabul and anywhere else they are sent. They enable the flow of freedom through our circulatory system just like they always have, pumping and pumping in perfect athletic fitness. Our defenses alone determine the ability of our arms to reach and build and destroy, all through the providence of freedom's deep crimson bloodflow. Our blood burns hot as our heart suffers blow after blow, but it is not broken. Not yet.
Where are we at? What is broken? Why, it's the brain, you see. We've lost our conscience. Without a journalistic media that oversees and exposes the governance put forth by the other parts of the brain, we are addled by whatever wishes and fantasies those who are in control of every other part so desire. Corrupt and gripped with megalomania, psychotic murder-sick justifications of mass killing, and unimpeded desire to consume and alter everything within our sphere of being, we find our body out of control.
The conscience alone could correct this horrid affliction, but as such an abstract device in our body's function, it has been lost to the omnivorous greed of our brain's center: the ruling class. With the passion in our heart and the freedom in our blood, we the people of these United States (the moral instinct) could compel ourselves to be rid of the sickness that gnaws the inner workings of our brain and drives our entire body ever further toward ruin.
Surgery could fix the conscience. Excision of the old conscience and implanting a new one built on the moral instinct of our blood and moment could be the one fix that saves the brain, correcting the corruptive forces of the dominant ruling section. Our overtaxed and overworked body could begin to relax again. We could stop leaping over oceans and partitions, suffering constant bruises and infections, and we could just be again, walking along with the twin legs of economy, the arms taking and giving what is needed, and the back providing steady guidance and upright movement.
Destroy the mass media. Fuck them all. Let's get together and poison their efforts, check their every injustice, and lay bare their every trick. A malfunctioning part of our figurative mind cannot poison our blood, it can only compel us toward slow suicide. It must be our instinct to push back.
