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Journal sm62704's Journal: The Farmer and the Dell 6

So anyway, I was asked to metamoderate like I am almost every day and of course I did like I usually do, and one of the comments that I was asked to metamoderate was

Re:Skews will always be wrong... (Score:0, Troll)
by PC and Sony Fanboy (1248258) on Monday April 14, @12:55PM (#23065728)
AHHH!! modded down by an angry conservative!

This was modded "troll" as was its parent comment, which I'll get to later.

It was rightfully modded down, but it was not a troll. It was OFFTOPIC. because if that I declined to metamoderate the moderation. I may not always do this; if you catch me on a bad day I may smite thee.

I was not asked to metamoderate the parent.

Skews will always be wrong... (Score:-1, Troll)
by PC and Sony Fanboy (1248258) on Monday April 14, @10:17AM (#23062996)
According to some sources (fox news) the wild wild 'net is full of left wing liberal tree huggers. Which means that the sample of the population which is 'skewing' things will be taken from the net, and not representative. For example, senator 'the internet is a series of tubes'. Old people generally don't understand and don't use the internet.. and old people also tend to be conservative.

Most people would agree that the internet is a place that many old people avoid (although there are some who embrace it, but they are not the norm) and the majority of web sites target people under 30... (or people looking for porn)- basically, the internet is liberal in composition, so how does skews bring anything to the table? It looks to me like a big self affirmation party.

The comment was a heaping, steaming pile of poorly written, completely unthought out uninformed bullshit, but it wasn't a troll.

However, the commenter's name "Sony Fanboy" is itself a troll. Anybody who was victimized by Sony's rootkit has every right to kick the living shit out of the little punk bastard if they see him, and with my blessing. Come to think of it, maybe "troll" in this case is deserved even if the idiot asswipe somehow manages to make an informed, interesting, insightful, witty comment.

"Overrated" (even as it stands at -1) would be a more accurate mod for this. But a stupid comment like this boy's (who is obviously too young to be at any site that my journals are in) needs not moderation, but rebuttal.

Hell, the rebuttal wouldn't even need to actually say anything as long as it was coherent.

Re:Skews will always be wrong... (Score:1)
by Actually, I do RTFA (1058596) on Monday April 14, @01:25PM (#23066236)

the majority of web sites target people under 30.
The majority of tv/movies/music/internet sites/advertising campaigns (which drives the previous) either target people under thirty (nice amounts of disposible income) or people over thirty (by telling them they can be hip again, by doing what 30-year-olds do).

Your ad here. Ask me how!

And ladies, THAT AIN'T IT! People over 30 don't give a rat's ass about what's hip, and people under 30 for the most part don't have any money. What money they do have they mostly waste on vainly trying to be hip.

I should probably not metamoderate on Mondays. I'm on Monday like Arthur is on Thursdays. I'm sitting here now scratching my head; that journal I made about Obama had a lot of comments. I'd write an equally scathing one about McCain, but as he's not my Senator I'm a bit more ignorant about him than I am about Obama.

But anyway, I digressed this time before I even got started. I went to Columbia Saturday and picked up some Columbian. "Columbian" as in "killer bud".

But not the Columbia in South America. This was the Columbia in Southern Illinois. Well, actually the weed wasn't exactly FROM Columbia; the farmer lives in a different town near Columbia. Columbia was where I smoked it - or rather, come to think of it he's not actally IN Columbia or he'd have been in trouble when he was raising pigs, goats, chickens, turkeys, dogs, and snotnosed children (they're his stepdaughter's kids; she and her husband have drug problems and the family welfare folks took the kids away and saddled poor Mike with them). He's right outside town, up on the bluffs. At Mike's you'd swear you were in Kentunky.

The pot farmer lives fifteen or twenty miles from Mike.

So Friday night had found Tami and me at Felber's drinkiing one last pitcher, and I found myself sleeping far later than I'd wanted to Saturday morning. I called Mike and told him I'd be down in a few hours.

Tami said she wasn't going, apparently she had whatever I'd had all last week. Plus the fat woman was looking to get her stimulus check so she could blow it on alcohol and junk food.

Mike had wanted me to have another look at his damned Dell, which he'd paid some asshat ninety dollars to fix. Its video output had been seemingly stuck in "power reserve" mode and I hadn't been down there in quite a few months.

I drove by the bank and withdrew the king's ransom it would take to drive the two hundred mile round trip, then to the gas station for fuel, check the oil, check the tires (two were low) and hit the road.

Traffic had it in for me. Every green light had people waiting for it to turn yellow so they could go. I'm going to wear my damned horn out waking up these damned people who drive with Dr. McCoy's sleep inducers on their heads. You know the inducers I'm talking about, they look like cell phones and people use them to catch a few ZZs at the intersections.

I got as far as Stevenson where the speed limit (the legal limit, not the REAL limit the traffic lights impose) goes up to 45 so I set the cruise at fifty, and left it there until I got to Litchfield, where I ate some ground cow before continuing my 55 mph journey.

Doing fifty is a wonderful way to travel, so long as youre not in a hurry. At 65mph, the speed limit, it takes an hour and a half, traffic and road construction permitting. At fifty it takes two hours, and traffic and road construction don't come into play.

It's amazing how people drive in herds, like cows and sheep. It's even more amazing when you put a predator (like the State Police) in the mix; Animal Planet ain't got nuthin on I-55! Speaking of the highway that takes you from Wrigley to Busch, it is the sole reason that a Sammy Hagar song isn't obsolete. That song was a protest against the "universal 55 mph speed limit" which was rescended two decades ago.

Now it's a protest againt highway 55 (parts of which are also Route 66) in Illinois.

I actually cheered a cop. He had a semi pulled over! Poor fool will probably lose his badge over it, or at least have to write "I will not fuck with monetary commerce in Illinois" a hundred times on the State Police blackboard.

The herds of SUVs and luxury cars bleated past at high rates of spped, far exceeding the 65 mph speed limit, riding literally inches from my back bumper as they waited to get over to pass.

Well, most of them. Some sit inches from your bumper for miles on end, as if they're going to bully me onto speeding up or as if they're afraid it's against the law to change lanes.

I eventually went on I-255, and exited at 157 in Cahokia. I hadn't seen Jeff in ages; he doesn't have a phone so I can't call to tell him I'm coming, and the last three or four times I've been down there I hadn't caught him home.

I grew up there. It used to be a nice town until they tore East Saint Louis down to build I55, I-64, and I-255. All the hoodlems and gangsters that used to live in E. St. Louis had to move somewhere, so they moved two miles south to Cahokia.

The Cahokia Mounds aren't in Cahokia. They're in Collinsville. The Cahokia Downs racetrack (is it still there even?) isn't in Cahokia either.

The oldest courthouse in or west of the Missippi valley is, however.

I pulled on to 157 (kids, don't try this at night. Not unless you're heavily armed like everyone else there or, like me, incredibly stupid) Jeff was home; Glenna (a bipolat crazy bitch that reminds me of Jeff's late brother Jim's first wife) must be back on her meds because she's really gotten fat. Jeff smoked a bowl with me. "You should have been here a couple of weeks ago," he said, "there was some opium around."

Glenna said "you shouldn't smoke opium, it leads to harder drugs."

I laughed. "That's like saying Whiskey leads to harder alcohol!"

I didn't stay long, as I had a computer to look at. I got back on the highway to Columbia. Mike greeted me with a beer, and went to the barbecue pit and spread the hot cooals. No starter fluid for him; he uses tinder to get his charcoal lit. He's not an ecofreak, he just doesn't like the way charcoal lighter makes your meat taste. I'm in agreement, especially when so many dumbasses think they have to use half a can and put the meat on before the fluid all burns off.

I went in to look at the computer. It wouldn't recognize the DVD or CD burners. At all.

I rebooted it and went into the BIOS. It, too, was completely ignorant. The BIOS knew there were drives, but it scratched its head and said "well, by crackey;" it's an old computer - "I thinks there's some CDs or sumpthin' thar but I'll be durned ifen I kin figger 'em out."

Hard to load the drivers from CD when the CD player won't work.

I finally gave up; next time I'm down I'll open it and put a CD ROM from another computer in and load the drivers from there, with my fingers crossed that nobody has fuX0red up the BIOS.

Mike brought out a small container of pot and had me roll. Half a joint later and I was ready to fall off of my chair.

The killer was back. It was a different farmer growing this, so I'm of course not going to say his name as he's and old friend and I wouldn't want him to get caught even if he was a bitter enemy.

Of course, after smoking THAT it was time to eat. And eat. And eat.

And smoke some more.

We wound up driving fifteen or twenty miles to the farmer's house, where he's using the Dawson-Fairy method of hemp hydroponics, named after Jeff Dawson and John Fairy, who pioneered its use before giving up pot farming. John doesn't even smoke any more; it's been a few years since this still unknown reefer-growing method was invented.

The reason you haven't heard of it is because it's a new method, very energy efficient and the cops can't tell you're growing by a change of electric bills or a heat signature. And aside from this hint you won't hear it from me, either. Although in a few years I magine the secret will come out and everyone will be doing it this way.

I just smile when the kids talk of smoking "hydro". It isn't that hydroponics makes pot more potent, it's that hydroponics makes growing faster, at least when the plants are first cloned.

The cloning is the reason for the killer high. You find the best plant you can find, and keep cloning. If it's genetically superior it's going to get you wasted, asuming you know when to harvest and how to time your lights. If it's cloned it's most likely grown inside, where it's not going to be polluted by pollen and produce seeds.

We drank a beer with the farmer (well, I drank a beer, Mike drank four) and I took Mike home, then drove the hundred miles back to Springpatch.

At sixty seven mph. I got there about 11:00. Tami was asleep on the couch.


FredFrederickson made a 1 rated comment that really should be seen. Here it is. It concerns the cops giving a young man a hard time for two reasons: because he's young, and because they can.

Update 6/10/8
I corrected a few typos and made some other minor edits. I also ran across a related story in the Chicago Tribune that was originally in the LA Times, U.S. in huff over Legal Weed. The Tribune version is linked (sorry) because I couldn't find the original.

For the Times and Tribune editors, one does NOT huff weed. One huffs kittens.

WEED, Calif. - This town is in a tempest over a bottle top.

The federal government is telling the owner of a small brewery here that the pun he's placed on caps of his Weed Ales crosses a line.

"Try Legal Weed," the caps joke.

The U.S. Treasury Department's Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau says those three little words allude to marijuana use.

The bureau's bureaucrats have told Dillmann he needs to stop using the "Try Legal Weed" bottle caps. If he doesn't, he could risk fines or sanctions. His worst fear: being forced out of business.

Your tax dollars at work.

Or as one slashdotter's sig says, "oh look, my tax dollars at work coming to arrest me."

Yet another Update 6/10/8
This update concerns the FredFrederickson comment. At least he wasn't tasered twice and taken to jail like the guy in the linked article, who is now suing Officer Quimby and Springfield. But then again, this IS a cartoon city.

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The Farmer and the Dell

Comments Filter:
  • i think that proper charcoal grilling technique is becoming extinct.

    we had a work bbq last week and i was in charge of the cooking. i dont have a charcoal chimney (thats what my dad used to call it) to light and heat up the coals, so i was asking around to see if anyone else had one. no one out of thirty people had even heard of it, even after a description of what it was (in case my name for it was wrong). i actually had to make one out of some stove pipe and wires because there is no store within a hun
    • by sm62704 ( 957197 )
      I wondered what that thing Mike used to light his grill with was called. I think his was home made from a piece of stove pipe (he has a wood stove in his basement and another in his barn).

      He actually has a very nice gas grill, but says that when you're cooking chicken the gas grill's a lot more work than the charcoal grill.
    • by sjaskow ( 143707 )
      My dad used to make them out of coffee cans. Remove the bottom of the can and then use the bottle opener on your pocket knife [] to make holes around the top and bottom of the can. Add a little balled up newspaper at the bottom and there you go.

Work is the crab grass in the lawn of life. -- Schulz