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Journal: What We Can Learn from BSD 4

Journal by Chinese Karma Whore

What We Can Learn From BSD
By Chinese Karma Whore, Version 1.0

Everyone knows about BSD's failure and imminent demise. As we pore over the history of BSD, we'll uncover a story of fatal mistakes, poor priorities, and personal rivalry, and we'll learn what mistakes to avoid so as to save Linux from a similarly grisly fate.

Let's not be overly morbid and give BSD credit for its early successes. In the 1970s, Ken Thompson and Bill Joy both made significant contributions to the computing world on the BSD platform. In the 80s, DARPA saw BSD as the premiere open platform, and, after initial successes with the 4.1BSD product, gave the BSD company a 2 year contract.

These early triumphs would soon be forgotten in a series of internal conflicts that would mar BSD's progress. In 1992, AT&T filed suit against Berkeley Software, claiming that proprietary code agreements had been haphazardly violated. In the same year, BSD filed countersuit, reciprocating bad intentions and fueling internal rivalry. While AT&T and Berkeley Software lawyers battled in court, lead developers of various BSD distributions quarreled on Usenet. In 1995, Theo de Raadt, one of the founders of the NetBSD project, formed his own rival distribution, OpenBSD, as the result of a quarrel that he documents on his website. Mr. de Raadt's stubborn arrogance was later seen in his clash with Darren Reed, which resulted in the expulsion of IPF from the OpenBSD distribution.

As personal rivalries took precedence over a quality product, BSD's codebase became worse and worse. As we all know, incompatibilities between each BSD distribution make code sharing an arduous task. Research conducted at MIT found BSD's filesystem implementation to be "very poorly performing." Even BSD's acclaimed TCP/IP stack has lagged behind, according to this study.

Problems with BSD's codebase were compounded by fundamental flaws in the BSD design approach. As argued by Eric Raymond in his watershed essay, The Cathedral and the Bazaar, rapid, decentralized development models are inherently superior to slow, centralized ones in software development. BSD developers never heeded Mr. Raymond's lesson and insisted that centralized models lead to 'cleaner code.' Don't believe their hype - BSD's development model has significantly impaired its progress. Any achievements that BSD managed to make were nullified by the BSD license, which allows corporations and coders alike to reap profits without reciprocating the goodwill of open-source. Fortunately, Linux is not prone to this exploitation, as it is licensed under the GPL.

The failure of BSD culminated in the resignation of Jordan Hubbard and Michael Smith from the FreeBSD core team. They both believed that FreeBSD had long lost its earlier vitality. Like an empire in decline, BSD had become bureacratic and stagnant. As Linux gains market share and as BSD sinks deeper into the mire of decay, their parting addresses will resound as fitting eulogies to BSD's demise.

The Almighty Buck

Journal: The Big Buildup 2

Journal by Chinese Karma Whore

Fate, chance, karma, whatever you wanna call it -- when Miss Fortune spreads her legs for you, you're already in over your head. Believe me, I know.

Bunny LaFever looked like a dame with more curves and venom than Reggie Peeler's Land O' Snakes. But she wasn't a real dame. She was a she-devil. That golden bush of hers was nothing but a welcome mat to hell.

But now I'm getting way ahead of myself. Bunny had a way of doing that to jerks like me. She twisted us inside out and turned our heads around so we couldn't think straight anymore. So lemme begin at the beginning ...

Carnies got a word for a crooked game operator like me. They call me "Flattie" cuz I'll flat-out rob you and make you like it.

My name's Randy Everhard and I've got a million ways to take your money. One of my personal favorites is the "hopper shot." It's tossing softballs into toilet seats, which you've seen on every midway in your life. I could gaff the joint to make it impossible to win.

But where's the fun in that? I work it so any chucklehead can win all night long. Cuz once I've hooked a live one into thinking he can take me for a ride, that's when I nail him with the "build-up." Caught up in the excitement of winning game after game, the rube's built up to play twenty games at two bucks a pop. And the only prize he's going home with is a teddy bear that cost me three shekels per, wholesale. You do the math, Einstein.

The problem with selling three-dollar plush for forty scoots is that the build-up only pays off if you've got a steady string of suckers. And that night was turning out to be a real larry. The Laff Riot carnival was a flattie's wet dream. The grab joints and flashy rides were a front for the real action: flat stories, alibi and percentage joints, crap tables, slot machines, fortune wheels.

The show was running wide open. Everybody crooked and every joint gaffed and nobody doing a damn thing to stop it. I figured the cops were greased slicker 'n Liberace's asshole. It should've been like shooting trout in a barrel. Too bad nobody was taking my bait. I was up shit creek without a paddle to piss on.

My first goddamn night with the show, and already I was itchy for a new angle.

I can't remember which one of them I saw first: the blonde come-on dressed like she had an exhibitionist streak a mile wide or the square in the coke bottle glasses who was eyeballing her like she was nothing but something to look at. Of course, that Coppertone beauty really was something to look at. She was turning heads and raising dicks all over the place. But I didn't like him getting his eyes all over this piece of 100 percent corn-fed cocktease.

She was stacked like a double-decker Ferris wheel with nipples that could cut glass. The red double-O's stenciled on her football jersey were stretched over humongous hooters. She looked like a shooting gallery, bursting at the seams. You couldn't miss those twin titty targets. I'm talking knockers so big you could still see them when she turned around. And believe you me, she was one woman who looked as good going as she did coming.

She wore a pair of daring Daisy Dukes that were so short and tight her crotch sucked them in. The denim over her ass was thread-bare, blown out like a retread. And if that wasn't enough, she was doing a number on a grape Popsicle to make your peter wish it was frozen on a stick. That girl was one carnival ride I wanted to jump on quick, and I didn't care how many tickets it cost.

In my racket, though, business comes before pleasure. And this looked like a golden opportunity to work the key scam. It's the oldest con in the carny book.

I jumped the counter and made my way over to the chump with the steamed-up glasses. I was like, "Hot enough for ya? And I ain't talking about the weather, fella." At first he didn't buy it when I told him I was the "manager" of this fine talent. He just stood there mopping his brow with a hanky.

"I don't fuck chickens and I don't shit feathers," I said, "and I wouldn't lie about a piece of ass like that, neither." I gave myself a hard-on feeding him the fast talk: screwing her would make a man think he died and gone to heaven, where the streets are paved with solid gold snatch.

"She's a sight for sore eyes, ain't she? And if you think I'm giving you lip, you oughta see her go to town on a dick. Life-transforming, friend. Life-transforming." I pulled out an old key I kept for just such an occasion. Dangling it before his bug eyes, I spieled how it was the key to her room at some motel outside of town. "I'm talking once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, pal. She's the reason hard-ons were made."

He swallowed it all -- hook, line and sinker.

Chuckling over what he was going to tell his wife when he came home minus his paycheck, I made my way over to the sultry sex kitten. She was throwing heat like a furnace. Melting chocolate bars at twenty paces. It was too hot to fuck, but next to her, that scorcher felt like a cool, seaside breeze.

"I just made you twenty bucks, and all you had to do was stand here looking gorgeous, Gorgeous." She didn't say anything, just looked me up and down and blinked those big baby blues. The sheen of sweat on her face glowed under the neon lights. She'd sucked all the flavor out of the end of the Popsicle, so the tip was white.

I fished out a crisp, new bill and passed it over. She let it rest in the palm of her hand as she stared at it, confused. She tried giving it back to me, but I stopped her. "See that guy over there?" I asked, stepping aside to give her a glimpse. "He just paid me a lot of money to sleep with you."

He what?" she goes, insulted. She threw down what was left of her Popsicle and took a step closer. Her eyes burned like a butane flame. Like most women, she looked better when she was steamed. But I didn't want her making a scene. She was liable to blow the act.

"Don't get yer panties in a bunch," I said, shutting her cakehole with my hand. I told her about the con and then nervously took my hand away. I was sure she was gonna blow up again. But she kept quiet. I told her we had to scram and didn't give her a chance to say no. I just put my arm around her waist and steered her toward the exit gates. I gave Pops a back-handed wave as we booked outta there double-time.

My dick is long and my cons are short. Cop and blow, that's my motto -- take the money and run. Otherwise things got a way of getting ugly.

Two minutes later, we were hauling ass down the highway in my supercharged Chevy Menace. It was an acid green two-door with cheetah seat covers, four on the floor and dual exhaust. Twin cams and 440 horses under the hood.

"Say," I said, "what's your name, anyway?"

I was hoping to get to know every inch of her better. She smelled like coconut oil. Her tanned skin gave off heat like asphalt that'd been baking in the sun all day.

"Bunny," she goes. "Bunny LaFever." She was a real piece, too. I couldn't wait to do all sorts of dirty things to her. "How much you take him for?" she asked. "Two-fifty." In actuality I scored three-fifty. But if there's one thing I know about women, it's never tell them exactly how much money you've got.

Back at my room at the God bless America Truckstop Motel, she showed me that that sweet and innocent show was just a put-on. I was glad, though. I prefer a girl with some experience under her belt.

Before I knew it, she was all over me like stink on shit. Purple from the Popsicle, her tongue sprung to the back of my throat and then snaked all over the inside of my mouth like she was mining the gold fillings out of my teeth. Despite all the tongue wrasslin,' her hands were nowhere near where I wanted them to be.

My dick had been so hard for so long I thought it would blast off like a rocket, but she kept her distance. The teasing was cute at first but enough was enough. I grabbed her hands and planted them on the tent pole in my pants.

She pulled away and took a few steps back.

"You trying to insult me? You think you can have this body for free?" Bunny squeezed her 'lopes together, serving them up for my hungry eyes: "These tits alone cost five bucks to look at."

I chuckled nervously. "C'mon," I go, "quit screwing around."

"I'm totally serious. Five bucks or I'm gone."

I started laughing for real, digging the little swindler. What else could I do but pay up? She had me right were she wanted me.

This was one of those times in a man's life when he knows his dick's doing the brainwork but he doesn't care. Whatever the dick wants, the dick gets. That right there's the whole story of my life.

I plucked a five-spot from my wallet and waved it like a flag of surrender. She just looked at it. "I don't want your money now," she goes. "Pay me later."

"Whatever you say." And I just eased back on the bed to enjoy the show.

She peeled off her T-shirt and out bounced those giant, all-natural juggs. She had razor sharp tan lines from the sling of a skimpy bikini top. You could tell from her nips that the air-conditioning was on full-blast.

Bunny danced around the room, wiggling and shaking everything her momma gave her. I looked her up and down until I could've guessed her weight. She had all the right parts in all the right places and then some.

She neared the bed and leaned over me to let those massive, all-American melons swing inches above my face. "Wanna taste them?" she goes. As if she had to ask.

I lifted my head to suck the tantalizing titties into my mouth, but she snatched them away.

"Five bucks," she goes.

"All right, five bucks."

"Five bucks each, big spender."

"You got it."

"Pay me later," she cooed, and moved closer to bury me beneath her treasure chest. "Mmm," she purred, "you suck real good."

"Damn straight," I mumbled. "You're getting my money's worth."

She only laughed as her fingers spider-walked down to my crotch and unzipped my fly. "You'd like a tit-fuck, wouldn't you?"

It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact. Some girls are mind readers, but Bunny LaFever was the first dick reader I ever had the pleasure to meet.

"Twenty bucks," she barked.

I was like, "A bargain at twice the price. Pay you later?"

"That's right, bright boy."

We switched places on the bed so that she was on her back. I kicked off my shoes and pulled down my pants and underwear. This dick of mine's got its own zip code and time zone.

When she gripped the shaft, her fingers didn't reach all the way around. She was like, "Lucky for you I'm still in my size-is-everything phase."

"Me, too," I said, dropping to my knees to straddle her. My hard-on slipped between her cleavage like a hot dog in its steamed bun. She pressed them together to make the sandwich good and tight as I began my strokes.

I humped her hooters harder to push my dick closer to her succulent mouth. She stuck out her pink tongue and tickled the tip. Back and forth it fluttered over the head.

"There's a freebie," she giggled. "But I won't take one in the mouth for less than twenty."

"How much to swallow?"

She had to think that one over. "Thirty," she answered. "And that's only cuz I like you."

I dismounted and stood beside the bed. She sat on the edge of the mattress to let her mouth get better acquainted with my cock. Her tongue twirled over my shaft until it looked like a monument of polished marble.

She blew me good and slow, repeatedly bringing me to the edge of orgasm and then stopping until the urge melted away.

The build-up felt so good it hurt. I never begged anyone for anything before. But tortured by her talented tongue, I was actually begging for mercy.

After some more tongue lashing, she finally let me fill her mouth. She swallowed, too, and it felt like my whole body was sliding down with it.

It's funny.  Laugh.

Journal: The Psychology of an Idiot: NaveWeiss Dissected 18

Journal by Chinese Karma Whore

Case Study 1: NaveWeiss

Summary: Loser vents his rage.

Choice Quotations (click on the numbers to see the original context of the quote)

1. The correct way to write it is "Pancakes". I'm so cool.. I can correct spelling mistakes! Unfortunately, it's not a good way to meet chicks. Oh well..And where's Anne Marie? I wanted her to answer me. :(((

2. I once tried to hit on an imac user...Unfortunately, she told me she's already in use. Since then, I feel sorry each time I see an iMac.. :(

3. I hate drug users! I had bad experience with 99% of them, including the bitch that rejected me. They are all evil people and should be spanked.

4. [in response to a post by Jamie, slashdot editor] Jamie, I just wanted to mention that I love you.. I don't know why, but I really like you a lot.

5. [referring to the goatse.cx man] Ofcourse I'm no better than this man. He and I share the same poor destiny. I am a victim of today's material society, which prevents me to get a girlfriend, and that man is a victim of Klerck's ass widening. May both of us be avenged.

6. [referring to me, when I terminated his retarded attempt at conversation] It was /you/ who started writing to me. You can't decide things like "I don't want to continue any conversations with you", and you can't just walk away like that - no one will bear the consequences besides of you.

Analysis
Let's see...NaveWeiss clearly exhibits loneliness, failure with women, self-hatred, and even homosexuality! NaveWeiss is an immigrant who can't find any companions! Now take a look at this journal entry. Note how he attempts to insult me with something very similar to his life story.

Indeed, as NaveWeiss said in quote 7, "no one will bear the consequences of [talking to me] except you" - I am now stuck with being harassed by a self-professed loser on Slashdot.

Diagnosis
Utterly retarded. I guess it hurts to be outwitted by a high schooler.

Quake

Journal: MMMMMMMM SO WARM 1

Journal by Chinese Karma Whore

good ones in bold. feel free to post others.

Q. What does a nigger and a apple have in common?
A. They both look good hanging from a tree
Q. What would you call the flinstones if they were black?
A. Niggers
Q. How do you get a nigger out of a tree?
A. Cut the rope
Q. Why do niggers smell?
A. So blind people can hate them too
Q. What do you call 100 niggers on the moon?
A. Problem
Q. 1,000 niggers?
A. Problem
Q. All the niggers?
A. Problem solved
Q. Why did god give niggers bick dicks?
A. He felt bad about what he did to there hair
Q. What do you do when you see a nigger with one leg?
A. Stop laughing and re-load
Q. How many niggers does it take to change a light bulb?
A. Who cares they're niggers
Q. How many niggers does it take to roof a building?
A. Ten, if you slice then thin enough
Q. Why do niggers wear white gloves?
A. So they don't bite their fingers off when eating tootsie rolls
Q. Whats green and pink and purple and orange?
A. A nigger dressed for church
Q. Why don't niggers celebrate thanksgiving?
A. KFC isn't open on holidays

Q. What did god say when he made the first nigger?
A. Oh shit i burnt one
Q. Whats the difference between a dead dog in the road and a dead nigger in the road?
A. Skid marks in front of the dog
Q. What is the American dream?
A. For all the niggers to go back to Africa with a jew under each arm
Q. What do you call two nigger cops on motocycles?
A. Chocolate chips
Q. Why don't niggers take asprin?
A. Its white, it works, and they refuse to pick the cotton out of the bottle.
Q. Why did the nigger cross the road?
A. Who the hell cares, why the fuck is he out of the cotton field
Q. What is white from above and black up close?
A. A cotton field
Q. What is wrong with 4 niggers going over a cliff in a cadilac?
A. It seats 5
Q. What is yellow on the outside and black on the inside and a lot of fun to watch?
A. A bus full of niggers going over a cliff
Q. What do you call a nigger flying back up a cliff?
A. Black magic
Q. What do you say when you see your t.v. floating around at night?
A. Drop it nigger

Q. Why are niggers so strong?
A. T.V.'s are getting heavier
Q. Why are niggers so fast?
A. All slow ones are in jail
Q. What do you call a nigger having sex?
A. Rape
Q. What happened to the nigger that had an abortion?
A. Crime stoppers sent her a check for 500 dollars
Q. What are 3 things you can't give a nigger?
A. A black eye, a fat lip, and a job

Q. Why are there niggers in heaven?
A. There's toliets to be cleaned there too
Q. What is 8 miles long and has a IQ of 68?
A. The Martin Luther day parade
Q. What do you call 1000 niggers going over a cliff?
A. Nigger falls

It's funny.  Laugh.

Journal: GNU HIPPIES 5

Journal by Chinese Karma Whore

I think that the recent article posted by Dr. Richard Paley was quite cogent and insightful, even though it was dismissed as a hoax by the slashdot crowd. Just look at the two slashdot stories before it: one about strengthening the GNU-HIPPIE lobby in the government, and another recommending taking up a government job. These are not only coincidences, my friend; they are the harbingers of the takeover of our federal and commercial institutions! Beware!

GNUStep

Journal: Google and Niggers 7

Journal by Chinese Karma Whore

Did you know that searching for 'nigger' on google returns the category Arts > Movies > Titles > W > Who Framed Roger Rabbit ??? See for yourself!

Feel free to post other google anomalies and random garbage to the journal, trollssss

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