Thursday, October 23, 2008
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Surprised Clif Hasn't Caught "Googely Eye" Bachmann on This Already
I know, I know. It's a CNN video and they don't seem to play very well when embedded(maybe that's just me), but the amazing level of crazy on display is worth it. I don't know whether I am glad that I don't live in Minnesota's 6th Congressional District because that would mean being neighbors with the dupes who voted her in, or if I wish I did live there so I could vote against her. On the one hand she can constantly cast votes supporting a radical right-wing agenda, but on the other she's not roaming around town preaching on street corners and scaring children with those googely eyes.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Obfuscations
I have played a lot of games in my life. As a child the games were more pedestrian in nature, involving the simple purchase and sale of properties and moving your piece around the game world, contained completely within the bounds of the playing board, with the goal of comaplete and total financial ruin of your brothers and cousins. I have played games strangely based on expressions of rage-inducing empathy during the play, particularly at moments when you had just screwed your opponent-brother out of any chance of winning. I have even played a game loosely based on a mutual experience of strategy and skill, but invariably devolved into a game of how many fake rules I could coerce my opponent-brother into obeying. We played card games, the rules of which are equally as impossible to remember now as then. Many relatives lost all hope of playing a friendly game of anything with such a diabolically cunning mastermind, or so I saw myself when manipulating rules to suit my hand. Go fish! became an all out struggle for supremacy, the opening moves full of subterfuge and bluster while the endgame was strikingly more physical.
As I grew older the games became slightly more unusual as did the rules sets. Games involving legions of monsters marching around a strange hexagonal universe were enjoyed as much as games wherein the pursuit of success was secondary to hampering all chance of success by your fellow players. The supplied rules sets became far more complex and the simple lies and coercions of the past were insufficient to secure a victory, as even I was utterly flummoxed at times by the inherent systems of this era's games. I learned to become one who would take the time to learn all of the rules and then pursue aggressive means of enforcing penalties upon my brother-opponent. When questioned, I always offered to let my opponents read the rulebooks, but when the rules set truly approaches book length, most will simply give in rather then settle down with a cup of tea and an afghan and peruse an arcane tome for clues as to why my legions could move against a box tile, but his could not. It had something to do with native lands. I learned that masterful cheating must always seem reasonable, and yet still leave your opponent completely hosed.
Given my rather flagrant history and flamboyant imagination, you might think that I developed a habit of crafting intricate new interpretations of rules all working to a singular goal: total domination of my brother-opponents. Sadly, the elder brother-opponents had many more years of experience in game-rule manipulation and younger brother-opponent quickly developed and interesting defense: apathy.
I began to move to games that had no measurable means of success and even more rules. Rules that required multiple books, with actual spines. I found myself reading more and more, learning combinations of rules that could work to my advantage and yet still be completely within the legal realms. There were many such games and many such days spent attempting to redefine victory not against some loathsome creature sent forth from the bowels of imagination but victory against the very imagination itself. I collected playing aids in the form of multitudes of dice, in the hopes that certain dice would gain me certain advantages in play. I became superstitious about color, shade, and warmth of my dice. If I could not successfully manipulate the rules to my advantage, then I would manipulate my playing to my advantage. All the while having no appreciable idea of the goal of these desires.
I played an uncounted variety of sword and sorcery games, and even more uncounted versions of these games. I played Western games, involving playing cards and dice. I played science fiction games, the more deadly to my character, the more I enjoyed them. I learned one constant among all the games I played: more books means more rules. Eventually, the human mind would reach a storage limit and carefully compartmentalized rules sets would become jumbled and slowly mingle in the mind of the players. Rules would meet over drinks, share a dew laughs, stumble drunkenly to a room in the hotel upstairs, and then awkwardly run out a few hours later, only to discover the following month that a new rule was growing inside. A rule that made rather a lot of sense when you think about it, I wonder why we hadn't been doing that before. It was in these spaces that I learned to allow my fellow players to breed rules, as they were far less likely to find fault with me if they had written the new rule. Could I really be blamed for buying the new handbook? After all, it was their idea to read it. I gradually moved away from manipulating rules to wholesale manipulation of people.
Despite this rather...miscreant behavior of mine, I like to think that I only wanted to have fun. To that end, I knew that there were some games that should be avoided at all costs. Some games had rules sets from which there was no recovery. fulsome once tried to interpret set of rules from a venerable institution that were an attempt to simulate a realistic system of combat against popular, fictional aliens. The designers had forgotten two things: nobody cares much about realism when the creatures you are shooting at explode acid, and that a mind is a terrible thing to lay waste. fulsome currently resides in a lovely, double-width refrigerator box in Berkeley, California.
Monday's Penny Arcade inspired this post.
As I grew older the games became slightly more unusual as did the rules sets. Games involving legions of monsters marching around a strange hexagonal universe were enjoyed as much as games wherein the pursuit of success was secondary to hampering all chance of success by your fellow players. The supplied rules sets became far more complex and the simple lies and coercions of the past were insufficient to secure a victory, as even I was utterly flummoxed at times by the inherent systems of this era's games. I learned to become one who would take the time to learn all of the rules and then pursue aggressive means of enforcing penalties upon my brother-opponent. When questioned, I always offered to let my opponents read the rulebooks, but when the rules set truly approaches book length, most will simply give in rather then settle down with a cup of tea and an afghan and peruse an arcane tome for clues as to why my legions could move against a box tile, but his could not. It had something to do with native lands. I learned that masterful cheating must always seem reasonable, and yet still leave your opponent completely hosed.
Given my rather flagrant history and flamboyant imagination, you might think that I developed a habit of crafting intricate new interpretations of rules all working to a singular goal: total domination of my brother-opponents. Sadly, the elder brother-opponents had many more years of experience in game-rule manipulation and younger brother-opponent quickly developed and interesting defense: apathy.
I began to move to games that had no measurable means of success and even more rules. Rules that required multiple books, with actual spines. I found myself reading more and more, learning combinations of rules that could work to my advantage and yet still be completely within the legal realms. There were many such games and many such days spent attempting to redefine victory not against some loathsome creature sent forth from the bowels of imagination but victory against the very imagination itself. I collected playing aids in the form of multitudes of dice, in the hopes that certain dice would gain me certain advantages in play. I became superstitious about color, shade, and warmth of my dice. If I could not successfully manipulate the rules to my advantage, then I would manipulate my playing to my advantage. All the while having no appreciable idea of the goal of these desires.
I played an uncounted variety of sword and sorcery games, and even more uncounted versions of these games. I played Western games, involving playing cards and dice. I played science fiction games, the more deadly to my character, the more I enjoyed them. I learned one constant among all the games I played: more books means more rules. Eventually, the human mind would reach a storage limit and carefully compartmentalized rules sets would become jumbled and slowly mingle in the mind of the players. Rules would meet over drinks, share a dew laughs, stumble drunkenly to a room in the hotel upstairs, and then awkwardly run out a few hours later, only to discover the following month that a new rule was growing inside. A rule that made rather a lot of sense when you think about it, I wonder why we hadn't been doing that before. It was in these spaces that I learned to allow my fellow players to breed rules, as they were far less likely to find fault with me if they had written the new rule. Could I really be blamed for buying the new handbook? After all, it was their idea to read it. I gradually moved away from manipulating rules to wholesale manipulation of people.
Despite this rather...miscreant behavior of mine, I like to think that I only wanted to have fun. To that end, I knew that there were some games that should be avoided at all costs. Some games had rules sets from which there was no recovery. fulsome once tried to interpret set of rules from a venerable institution that were an attempt to simulate a realistic system of combat against popular, fictional aliens. The designers had forgotten two things: nobody cares much about realism when the creatures you are shooting at explode acid, and that a mind is a terrible thing to lay waste. fulsome currently resides in a lovely, double-width refrigerator box in Berkeley, California.
Monday's Penny Arcade inspired this post.
Holiday Bake-Off: Confection Confessions
Yeah, um, so...
I ate most of my cookies, as did Super Secret Awesomegirl and my family.
What can I say? I HAVE NO SELF CONTROL.
This time, I might actually send them out, or I might just talk mighty amounts of trash. AGAIN.
In any event, my cookies will rock your face and melt your mind.
I ate most of my cookies, as did Super Secret Awesomegirl and my family.
What can I say? I HAVE NO SELF CONTROL.
This time, I might actually send them out, or I might just talk mighty amounts of trash. AGAIN.
In any event, my cookies will rock your face and melt your mind.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Thursday, October 09, 2008
Disdain
League of Democracies? What the hell is wrong with the UN? Oh, right, Republican'ts think the UN is only obstructing America's interests abroad. What a jackass.
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
My Internet is Out Again
I have an appointment with another Comcast techician tomorrow, but in the meantime I offer two pearls of wit and wisdom: don't get Comcast, and really don't get Comcast.
Father Genius said that it is nice to see American exports rising, even if it is only financial woes. In case you were wondering where I get it.
Father Genius said that it is nice to see American exports rising, even if it is only financial woes. In case you were wondering where I get it.
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
Binge Blogging: One Question About Bailout
Why did they eliminate Mark to Market? As far as I understand, by changing this accounting requirement the Emergency Economic Stabilization Act basically ensures far less transparency in banking system. This seems like a bad idea. I am not an economic genius, having only taken one basic course in microeconomics, and would gladly appreciate serious comments and opinions.
Given the sarcastic bastards that consist of 95% of my readership, I doubt we'll see anything useful show up in the comments. My blogging name is freaking Chuckles after all.
Given the sarcastic bastards that consist of 95% of my readership, I doubt we'll see anything useful show up in the comments. My blogging name is freaking Chuckles after all.
Why I Missed the SPX
Cuz I was freaking exhausted after working with Habitat For Humanity in NE DC. I put asphalt shingling up for one whole day and I am glad that I am not a roofer. I would have liked to have met John Campbell because his comics are great.
I will probably be doing another Saturday in November, but the really cool thing is that the Habitat project is kinda booked up with volunteers on the weekends. I doubt the same is true about the weekdays, but this genius needs to get some employment.
I will probably be doing another Saturday in November, but the really cool thing is that the Habitat project is kinda booked up with volunteers on the weekends. I doubt the same is true about the weekdays, but this genius needs to get some employment.
Totally Tarantula Tuesday: Trying To Avoid Terror and Trembling With Rage
A little tarantula humor on this Tuesday morning, full of dread, woe, and WTF*. A lot of people have asked me about my tarantula. They ask me questions like can you cuddle it? Does it show you love? Do you feel any sympathy? Are you sure you're not psychotic? What sex is it? To answer all of these questions, I have to respond with, who needs love?
Except the sex question. I don't know or particularly care what sex, or gender!, my cohabitating arachnid is. Knowing the sex of my roommate would not change my behavior toward it. If it is male, I would go out and buy it spider porn and give it some quiet time. If it is female, I am not going to give it 60% of the crickets I had been giving it.
We got an understanding. We respect privacy.
*I want more information and to thank mdhatter.
Except the sex question. I don't know or particularly care what sex, or gender!, my cohabitating arachnid is. Knowing the sex of my roommate would not change my behavior toward it. If it is male, I would go out and buy it spider porn and give it some quiet time. If it is female, I am not going to give it 60% of the crickets I had been giving it.
We got an understanding. We respect privacy.
*I want more information and to thank mdhatter.
Monday, October 06, 2008
It's not the drop, it's the sudden stop at the end...
I thought $700 billion bought financial security? I guess the dollar really has been devalued these days.
Friday, October 03, 2008
What's the Difference Between a Pitbull and a Hockey Mom?
Hockey moms lose debates.
And what is with Gwen Ifill's moderating? She let Palin wander wildly off topic three or four times: (examples not entirely accurate but you get the picture)
Governor Palin, what's your position on gay marriage?
"HOLY SHIT BARACK OBAMA WILL RAISE TAXES!"
Governor Palin, what's your position on the economic situation today?
"HOLY SHIT BARACK OBAMA WILL RAISE TAXES!"
Governor Palin, people claim that you have been sucking on the teat of big oil, how do you repsond?
"HOLY SHIT BARACK OBAMA WILL RAISE TAXES!"
Governor Palin, Alaska is one of the biggest recipients of federal aid, how do ou respond to that?
"HOLY SHIT BARACK OBAMA WILL RAISE TAXES!"
When you choose to answer the question you want to answer, not the one asked as Governor Palin did last night, you are not showing leadership and tenacity, you are dodging the issue. She didn't show anything other than her ability to sink back on tired, old Republican't bullshit when cornered. The NPR analysis after the debate was pretty toothless, unless they were being sarcastic.
When the expectations of your performance are simply that you show up and look pretty, things have downhill. The Vice Presidency requires more. Well done, Joe Biden. I was not a fan of you, but now will be.
I had a video I was going to include in this post, but it was removed from YouTube. Oh well.
And what is with Gwen Ifill's moderating? She let Palin wander wildly off topic three or four times: (examples not entirely accurate but you get the picture)
Governor Palin, what's your position on gay marriage?
"HOLY SHIT BARACK OBAMA WILL RAISE TAXES!"
Governor Palin, what's your position on the economic situation today?
"HOLY SHIT BARACK OBAMA WILL RAISE TAXES!"
Governor Palin, people claim that you have been sucking on the teat of big oil, how do you repsond?
"HOLY SHIT BARACK OBAMA WILL RAISE TAXES!"
Governor Palin, Alaska is one of the biggest recipients of federal aid, how do ou respond to that?
"HOLY SHIT BARACK OBAMA WILL RAISE TAXES!"
When you choose to answer the question you want to answer, not the one asked as Governor Palin did last night, you are not showing leadership and tenacity, you are dodging the issue. She didn't show anything other than her ability to sink back on tired, old Republican't bullshit when cornered. The NPR analysis after the debate was pretty toothless, unless they were being sarcastic.
When the expectations of your performance are simply that you show up and look pretty, things have downhill. The Vice Presidency requires more. Well done, Joe Biden. I was not a fan of you, but now will be.
I had a video I was going to include in this post, but it was removed from YouTube. Oh well.
Thursday, October 02, 2008
Two Reasons to Attend Wet Wednesday Writer's Workshop Featuring The Genius
"I'm not saying it's in a bad neighborhood, but the glass will stop a 7.62 round from three feet."
"I don't know if I love her, but we're watching Project Runway together."
"I don't know if I love her, but we're watching Project Runway together."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)