Wil “More than just Wesley Crusher…much, much more!” Wheaton put it very nicely in his blog entry today:
I’d like everyone to put down the flags and quiet the dogs of war for a moment, and remember the people who lost their lives six months ago, today.
Thank you.
Me so horny, President Jiang! Me love you long time!
I’ve been busy getting my new computer set up and working on all kinds of things Peekabooty-related. Hence the paucity of postings for the last few days. I’m back now, and to make up for missing time, let me direct you to an article on the Peekabooty site that I wrote called Murdoch, the Middle Kingdom and the Media. It covers Rupert Murdoch’s decade-long campaign to get broadcasting rights in China and all the ass-kissing involved. Read it and be amazed (and angered).
Much love to my homeboy G-dogg at Blogaritaville for givin’ me the 411 on Rupert M.
…but that something is not a Scandinavian woman named Eija-Riitta Eklöf-Berliner-Mauer. For those of you who don’t see the significance of her surname (or perhaps mistook it for the catalog name of an IKEA buffet table), her surname is a hyphenation of her family name, Eklöf, and Berliner-Mauer, the Berlin Wall. She added its name to hers because the Wall is her, um, husband.
It’s all here in her website, The Berlin Wall – The Best and Sexiest Wall ever existed!!!
The Berlin Walls. Look at the way she’s groping him — in public, no less!
From her site:
The purpose of the construction is completely irrelevant in this context. For example, the Berlin Wall symbolizes communism to many people, but not to me. I have no interest in politics. The Berlin Wall is my husband; its as simple as that…
…My attraction to The Berlin Wall and other constructions is BOTH emotional AND sexual. I love them as beings (I deliberately use this word here), I enjoy their company… and I am turned on sexually by The Berlin Wall…
…My sexual feelings towards them are very intense. My feelings towards The Berlin Wall are far more deep than most people think.
As you might well imagine, Mrs. Eklöf-Berliner-Mauer considers November 9th, 1989 to be a tragic day. Luckily for her, she knows that time is a dimension and in a twenty-eight-year sliver of the timeline, her husband still exists. Unfortunately, despite what some people may believe, we’re stuck with being dragged forward throught the timeline, one second at a time. Until time travel is possible, she’s done the next best thing:
I have fixed my mind within the period 1961 – 1988. That is the time when my husband existed and (for me) still exists in his full glory. I have done this by erasing most of my memories outside that period, enabling me to co-exist with my husband in those happy times.
Don’t feel sad for her because she’s stuck in 1988. She gets to enjoy George Michael’s Faith and Billy Ocean’s Get Out of My Dreams, Get Into My Car as brand new songs forever!
If you hadn’t yet read in the news in BoingBoing or blogaritaville, my friend and former boss Cory Doctorow has left OpenCola to join the EFF as their Outreach Coordinator. Once again, he’ll be doing an evangelist’s job, convincing corporations that it’ll be in their best interests to give money to the EFF. It’s a job he loves with a cause that he believes in.
Congratulations, Cory, on getting a to-die-for job and for escaping from OpenCola, the urinal mint of the P2P field.
My sister, Eileen, and her son, Aidan
Here’s to the best sister a brother could ever ask for.
There’s something called a Google Bomb — a trick used to alter the results returned by Google — about which Jim from Objectionable Content has written. Even better, he makes reference to “The Evil Midnight Bomber What Bombs at Midnight!” from The Tick. Check it out!
My friend Luke pointed out that sci-fi superstar Isaac Asimov has already written a short story about how Genesis was written called How It Happened. That’s the downside to living in the early 21st century: most of the really good ideas — fire, the wheel, The Universal Declaration of Human Rights, ratemygasmask.com — have already been thought up.
Still, as different writers, we take different tacks. Asimov has Moses fully aware of the scientific explanation of the origins of the universe; in the story, he and his brother Aaron wrote Genesis that way simply to save paper. I imagined mine as a skit with Moses having the scientific knowledge of his time — estimated by some Bible scholars to be around 1280 B.C. (or B.C.E.) — and God and Jesus as having a rather bent sense of humour (namely, mine).
Asimov has an edge over me because he’s one of the best-known names in science fiction. He’s written some of the most-loved books in the genre as well as some non sci-fi. Thanks to concepts of his such as the Laws of Robotics, he will influence not only writers but possibly even computer programmers and cyberneticists for generations to come. As for me, my blog was in Blogger’s “Blogs of Note” for about two months and my best-known story is the one where I got picked up by a limo full of cute women.
Hmm…
Joey 1, Asimov 0. Heh, heh, heh.
Prentiss Riddle e-mailed me, saying he liked Sacrelicious so much that he sent the URL to the puppet theatre troupe of his local Unitarian church. I feel like Arthur Miller.
Dan read the story and told me that Buddhism is non-deist. Well, Tibetan Buddhism isn’t, but Chinese and Japanese Buddhism are. In Sacrelicious, God is the enlightenment that Siddartha Gautama is trying to find. Don’t be so literal, Dan. I can picture you having Goldilocks and the Three Bears read to you as a kid: “Bears don’t live in houses! They most certainly do not sleep in beds! The don’t eat porridge! And how can they make porridge, anyway?! They don’t even have opposable thumbs!”
Besides, why would Jesus use a Gantt chart, something that we all know is a tool of the devil?
I’ve kidded him with this zinger before: you can’t spell “pedantic” without “dan”.
As I wrote earlier, Chicks Dig It has moved to a new venue, The Apothecary at Adelaide and Peter Streets. The indoor section of the Apothecary is about half the size of the Temple Bar and it doesn’t have Temple Bar’s high ceilings, either. Unfortunately, that means that the place is much much smokier — so smoky that Rob decided to leave shortly after entering. Still, I’m glad that Chicks Dig It has a venue, and once the weather warms up, they’ll be able to open the patio, giving us open-air dancing and a place to escape the smoke.
And really, kids, you should kick that vile and expensive tobacco habit.
Minutes after Rob left, the sound system went dead for about ten minutes. While the DJs tooled checked the amps and wiring, I strapped on the accordion and the two African drum players and I played some Lee “Scratch” Perry-esque dub until the sound came back on while people in the room clapped. When the DJ music was restored, the bartender walked up to me and said “What do you drink? I’m buying you one,” followed by other club-goers who did the same. I drank free all night. At the end of the night, DJs Dahlia and Chocloate gave me a good-bye hug; Chocolate said “Please come back every Monday, Accordion Guy.”
Damn, I love this instrument.