I'm sure nobody will ever read this now, but this was supposed to be acronym humor, not Insightful.

Well, the hard part is finding the Command Line Interface Terrorist.

"You will never know. If we choose to set you free when we have finished with you, and if you live to be ninety years old, still you will never learn whether the answer to that question is Yes or No. As long as you live it will be an unsolved riddle in your mind."

For consumer grade telescopes to be able to see the flag planted on the moon, they would need to be 2-2000 times more powerful.

Makes perfect sense if the item you are talking about varies greatly from one vendors product to the next.

I was amused. The only logical answer it gave during the whole conversation was:

Me: Thanks for your time, but you failed by the second response. I'm frankly surprised that you won the contest when your answers are not even in the same ballpark as my questions.

Elbot: Sorry, must be fatigue.

It's a myth.

Each thing I do I rush through so I can do
something else. In such a way do the days pass -
a blend of stock car racing and the never
ending building of a gothic cathedral.
Through the windows of my speeding car, I see
all that I love falling away: books unread,
jokes untold, landscapes unvisited. And why?
What treasure do I expect in my future?
Rather it is the confusion of childhood
loping behind me, the chaos in the mind,
the failure chipping away at each success.
Glancing over my shoulder I see its shape
and so move forward, as someone in the woods
at night might hear the sound of approaching feet
and stop to listen, then, instead of silence
he hears some creature trying to be silent.
What else can he do but run? Rushing blindly
down the path, stumbling, struck in the face by sticks;
the other ever closer, yet not really
hurrying or out of breath, teasing its kill.

Sure, I'd like to hear the pros and cons concerning the NSA's new [xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx]. I have heard from sources close to the inside that it can [xxxxxxxxxxxx] a single [xxxxxxxxxxx] at the packet level without having to [xxxxxxxxxxxxxx].

Are they telling us we stink?

Perhaps you have heard Russian epic of Cinderella? If shoe fits, wear it!

Failing that...more money.

And being herded into endless Hotel Miramars and Bellvueses and Continentales with their modern international luxury roomettes and draught Red Barrel and swimming pools full of fat German businessmen pretending they're acrobats forming pyramids and frightening the children and barging into queues and if you're not at your table spot on seven you miss the bowl of Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup, the first item on the menu of International Cuisine, and every Thursday night the hotel has a bloody cabaret in the bar, featuring a tiny emaciated dago with nine-inch hips and some bloated fat tart with her hair brylcreemed down and a big arse presenting Flamenco for Foreigners.

Like he said, how is it different? *Puts shovel back in garage*