Slashdot

From time to time, I dimly remember something I posted on slashdot but can never find it again. Here are some posts. Apparently I like talking about parenting and giving job advice.

• First Post
• Uncomfortable suppository
• The search for life
• Pens
• Picture phones
• In a Sunburned Country
• The Pyramids
• Security
  • One-way functions
  • Perfect security?
• Morse input
• Video games
  • MMORPG premiums
  • Perfect game
  • Tomb Raider
  • What the 'Hot Coffee' affair was like: an analogy
  • Video games get better
• My prompt
• Politics
  • Cyclists vs. motorists
  • Free speech and anonymity
  • Right to complain
  • Electoral college
• Their own facts
• Copyright infringement
• Parental responsibility
  • I
  • II
  • III
  • IV
  • V
• Languages, editors and usability
  • Error messages
  • Usability
  • GUIs
  • Text editors I
  • Text editors II
  • How good is Perl?
• Jobs and IT
  • Interviewing advice I
  • Interviewing advice II
  • Interviewing advice III
  • Interviewing advice IV
  • Job skills
  • Oncall duty
• Food
  • Veggie burgers
  • Human flesh
• Ads on Wikipedia
• Wood construction
• Entertainment
  • Star Trek
  • Last season of Angel
  • Daleks
  • Millionaire vs. Jeopardy
  • Movie adaptations
  • Star Wars changes
  • Star Wars

Viewing a certain commercial this evening prompted this tongue twister--try saying it five times fast:

Even pathetic shut-ins shun John Stamos

Surely the limerick is the lowest form of humor. My first one is not dirty, though I would expect future ones to be.

Exposed to a plague rat bubonical,
A man didn't find it so comical,
When a doctor from France
Said, "Please pay in advance:
If the plague doesn't kill you my tonic'll."

Note: try as I might, I can't get the limerick formatted properly using the limited HTML allowed by slashdot. And this one is not just formatted improperly, but it's dirty.

There was a lithe young Peruvian,
With fetishes antediluvian,
He buggered women and men,
Over threescore and ten,
With a heat that was downright Vesuvian.

When segfault.org was still going, I submitted this story, which was apparently rejected. This is really old, but I thought I would preserve it here.

Vegetarian Mob Plants TVP Horse's Head in Prosecutor's Bed, FBI Says

LOS ANGELES -- Yesterday a federal prosecutor found that a horse's head made from textured vegetable protein (TVP), a meat substitute, had been placed in his bed.

U.S. Attorney Henry Chambers recently empaneled a grand jury to seek indictment of Sammy "The Vegan" Piatti on several counts of extortion and cruelty-free racketeering. Los Angeles-based FBI agent Peter McMurtry described the act of vandalism as a death threat by the Piatti vegetarian crime family.

"We've had threats from this group of criminals before; the audacity of this move just proves we're finally close to shutting them down." said McMurtry at a press conference this morning. In an unguarded moment, the obviously angry McMurtry referred to the mobsters as "f**king neatballs."

In a similar incident a year ago, a strangled Tofurky was left on the front doorstep of area lawman Frank Weller, along with a note that threatened a "falafel necktie" for the officer. The perpetrator of that threat was eventually apprehended and found guilty of peddling brown rice and hummus within 1000 yards of a school and is serving four years at Corcoran State Penitentiary.

On the Straight Dope, someone started a thread imagining what the Lord of the Rings would be like if written by another author. I made a small contribution late in the game, but I reproduce it here in case the thread gets archived or my post is taken down. Also, they won't allow me to edit posts there, and I have corrected a couple of minor mistakes.

Strider scanned the Pony quicksville, figuring the players and slotting conclusions. First conclusion: the shitstorm in the West was stirring up business for Butterbur. Foregone conclusion: Big man Butterbur was into rackets up to his eyeballs. Pipeweed, dice, renting rooms by the half-hour for farmers' sons digging halfling cooze. BIG conclusion: too much curiousity by some of the customers. BIGGER conclusion: Black Riders sniffing around. BIGGEST: Four shit-kicking hobbits from the Shire renting rooms--THEM.

He lit up his own pipe, took two quick hits and scanned more carefully this time, riding the 'weed tingle behind his eyes. Spies in the corner: too many eyes in here to take them out. Midget voices, loud: THEM, bullshitting about the Shire--THEIR home. TOO loud: eyeball men slipping out the door. Strider crooked a finger at THEIR leader: HIM. He cracked his knuckles, making fists and motioning HIM to sit down.

"I'm Strider." Hushed voice--sotto fucking voce. "Mr. Underhill"--crooked smile. The smile says "I know YOU." The smile says "I know who YOU are." The smile says "I know YOU have IT." His eyes: not smiling. Frodo's eyes: look away, can't take the heat.

"Your friends have big mouths." Strider leaned back, cracked his knuckles. "Blotto and talking is not a good combination." Frodo nodded and looked over at Sam and Pippin: one blabbing--slurred-speech stories bullshit begging for the next drink. The other one looked back at Frodo.

Strider NEW conclusion: Sam fruit-hinky on Frodo--a complication. Babysitting four midgets a BIG THING now, Strider reconsidering his deal: Gandalf, mover, shaker, shakedown artist--you bring the four halflings to Rivendell or I snitch you to Elrond for Arwen. Gandalf: big time Elf juice, one of the Wise--no way out. Arwen images floated in behind the pipeweed: forbidden fruit BIG TIME. More conclusions: Elves do not like Men getting Elf trim. Second conclusion: Elrond ran the Elf operation in the North, he ESPECIALLY does not like Men getting Elf trim. Make it three: Gandalf makes the call, two days later he is nailed to a tree with Elf arrows through his ball sack.

Three options: grab Arwen and split. No go: Elrond is Outfit, he has juice everywhere. Gandalf has juice everywhere. Second option: do as Gandalf says, hand-hold hapless homo halflings to Rivendell. Third option, VERY TEMPTING: snitch the Ring to Sauron in return for Arwen, Sauron brings the black curtain down over the West; Elrond neutralized; Gandalf neutralized; Elves neutralized. Brain jump: Sauron would promise ANYTHING for Ring. Brain jump: Arwen and Strider living the squarejohn life in Sauron territory--FUNNY.

Dig: Pippin talking too much. Dig: Frodo jumps up on the table and starts singing. Strider takes a loooooong hit. Feeling goooooood. He goofs on the dancing midget. Watch him dance! Watch him sing! Watch him FUCKING DISAPPEAR! Too stupid: Option three and a half coming into focus--Black Riders/Weathertop/Four dead midgets.

Funnily enough, since I wrote this there has been some competition. You can decide which is better. And another, of better quality.