I mean, first of all I was all confused because there is the Sun on Mars. I think Sun is like a company, I'm not sure. So I guess the company can be on Mars. But it's somewhat vague. Is the actual Sun on Mars? I hope not, that's kind of scary. T_T If that was the case, then the Mars would be the Sun. Then the Java is on the Mars, which is maybe also the Sun. So I guess the Java is getting hot because it is on the Sun, and the Sun is hot. But the Mars is cold. So is the Java going to cool down? I don't know. I think if we model the Java as following the standard relation from thermodynamics Q = mc(delta-t), where c is the specific heat, we can determine that due to the relative difference in mass between the Mars and the Sun, the Java will experience a net increase in heat, which explains its evaporation lines in its associated graphic.
But I don't know. I tend to wonder why they would associate an interpreted high-level language like Java with the low-level systems programming associated with unmanned space travel. That's kind of silly. I mean Java doesn't even have like pointers or whatever. Pointers are kind of like the female breasts you know. Whenever you can like reference memory by address, it's like, you know you are alive. Kind of like when you're holding a nice, firm, supple pair of breasts. It all kind of comes together. Sometimes I think I like the hot weather because then like the ladies wear the more revealing clothing. But then sometimes I think I like the cold weather because then like the nipples are standing at attention. But Java doesn't let you play with her breasts. She keeps them buried beneath several layers of plain, dull colored sweaters. And really, her breasts aren't even all that nice to begin with. But then like C or ASM. She just takes those nice ones out at any opportunity, and you can play with them all you want.
You know what else. Like, you can't do any manual memory management either. You can't delete, you have to wait for the Garbage Collection to clean it up. You know, I can pick up after myself miss. If I wanted a maid I'd hire one. C doesn't care, she just is like, whatever, wanna fuck? Then DeNiro shoots her in the parking lot. C and ASM are like, the single life. You can like, have sex, and feel her up, and like, have sex. Java is like being married or whatever. She's always nagging you, forcing you to define classes for everything and like catch exceptions and go to your daughter's piano recital and then like buy some flooring from the hardware store for the new kitchen cabinets. Everything has to be a class. Everything has to be difficult. It's endless.
One time I was wondering like, what if a girl had like an endless pussy? Would she always be unsatisfied? Because on one hand, no guy could ever reach her cul de sac. But on the other hand, she never could experience that feeling anyway. There is no such physical object as an infinite dildo. That would be a good name for a band. Infinite Dildo. Anyway what if you were like, you know, sexing her up. Slowly running your fingertips through her hair, along her smooth face. Caressing her supple breasts. Data travelling around through memory. Remaining penetant at her altar, licking her pussy thoroughly, gently tickling her with the tip of your tongue, then wetting her down with long, loving strokes. She quivers softly, her pussy expanding, dilating. I take her clitoris in my lips, kissing it, letting it know, that it is loved. Her head back, her pussy opens, calling to me, a gentle feminine voice, "Come in me, come in me".
I slowly push my face into her pussy. I feel myself coming out the other side. Reaching up, pulling the labia aside, my arm outstretched into her pussy, I slowly climb through, the air pleasantly warm. I feel myself completely engulfed by the pussy, my feet falling onto the damp floor, an arid environment amongst a misty haze. In the vagina there is an old bunny rabbit. He says, Welcome my son, you have entered the void. There is no escape from here. You have attained Nirvana. And I was like, Cool. Then he was like, you have change for a twenty? But I only had two fives. He was all pissed or whatever. Well, what was I going to do.
Anyway. C is like the slutty white girl with nice DSLs and the heart of gold. You know, she just wants to make you happy. Java is all like the married housewife with the vagina dentata. You know, it can't even work on its own. It needs an interpreter to run its own compiled bytecode. Kind of like the housewife needing the husband to go do the work. Typical. C or ASM at least compiles to machine code and whatnot. It may not be LL(1) but, that's cool. She still has a nice rack. I think that's really like, what's most important or whatever. A girl can have a great personality, but if her breasts are all fugly, it's all over babe. I need some pointers to manipulate.