Saturday, August 13, 2011

the big mess

yo yo yo yo yo yo i'm just sayin'
when that density props you to lorraine,
sensitivity to comments online is 'just playin''.

my arrogance i'm sure defies the lies that lie after
soaping themselves all this time with lye,
found in some backwater cultural artifact;

said with tact and no facts
slipping through the teeth.

Only facts both in your brain and heart,
veins and ateries, and neurons,

need to slip through anything, whatever it is,
just to get to wherever they need to

...wait ... did I say I was limiting myself to two things?

.

.

I'd really like to start, I want to part
with baseless accusations of demise of my soul.
I'm not absconded of it, simply playing with

its parameters because what else would you do?

If you saw your own soul, wouldn't you mess with it too?

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Ad Guide

A common issue that pops up is that somebody, somewhere, had received the virus from their computer. Like, I was visiting the wards of AIDS patients the other day (don't ask me why), and I spoke to one of the kiddies, and they told me in great detail how the virus had been transmitted to them simply 'by proxy' during an interaction with the computer.

"It doesn't have to be like that," I said to the child, rampant in my own personal arrogance. "Why would it have to end up like that?"

The kiddie then explained to me that they were using a Windows Operating System and that that had been their primary preferred option.

"I need to have windows," said the baby, all choked up, to me--and that was when I suddenly experienced a surge of anger that had not been in me for probably aeons.

I immediately ran from the room and began writing my guide to the galaxy (of computer operating systems (for those who came before)). As a litmus test or control, I used two people who never understood why I needed a computer -- my parents. Herein is both the result of the experiment and the guide itself, all wrapped in one.

---
Parent: Hey, kid, computer is broken again. Go check in the vacuum tunnel.

Me (Distracted from epic battle on Street Figher): You wot?

Parent: You need to go and check the vacuum tunnel.

Me: We don't use vacuums anymore, parent. At least not in the house.

Parent (Insistent, demanding): Then why is all of this popping up in my face now?

Me (pauses the epic battle): Oh f ... .... bloody ... hell. What have you gone and done now?

Parent: I need to read an email, but something keeps popping up.

Me: You're using Windows

Parent: That's what 99% of the world uses

Me (laughs out loud, like something very horrible happened inside my stomach, ulcer-like): Statistics from 1999, my friend. Ask any random customer at Starbucks. They are all using Macs.

Parent: I've heard of these...'Macs', as you call them. Do you think I could replace the computer with that? A nice shiny new notebook? Then, maybe, I could finally read this email?

Me: You're starting to become Australian. Every statement sounds like the ending of a question.

Parent: I am not.

Me (sighs): Ok, ok. Yes, you could get a Mac from an Apple Store

Parent: Apple store? Oooo...I like the sound of that...

Me: Yeah, it's nice (grabs a Mac from an Apple Store). See? There's nice pictures for performing interactions with it? It shows you how to do everything? Do you see that?

Parent: I love it

Me: (Leaves parent and goes back to epic Street Figher battle)

Parent: Hey, it's still popping up, and I can't read the email.

Me: (Throws controller into screen -- it was a losing battle anyway). Alright, alright. Now I'm going to install something for you that will no longer invoke the wrath of all pop-ups.

Parent: Does it have windows? Remember, I need windows.

Me: Yes, it has f ... ... bloody ... windows.

[EDIT
Parent: And mouse? I need a mouse.

Me: You can have a mouse with the Mac, but only 1 button.

Parent: You wot?

Me: Just one button on a mouse if you use a Mac

Parent: I can't live with that. I'm going to get confused.

Me: That is the state of most people using that product.

Parent:
/EDIT]

Saturday, August 6, 2011

stepgnostic by tall broom, flowers only to the shower

When I turn on the switch or switch on my
shower

either flip like interaction or pouring blood on my face
occurs.

"These are my bloods," says the Vampire Earth (forever the sucking soul),
"drench".

Wait wait, hold on, I say, "You're not giving me a chance to shampoo."
Let me shampoo.

"No," says the entire fucking Earth. "No. You have to come out now."
"Eject from me!"

Then I go to work