Friday, September 24, 2004

Why Orange County?

"Anonymous said... why'd you have to pick orange county? someone near there you'd like nuked??" Off the top of my head I can't think of anyone in the greater LA area I would like to have nuked. That doesn't mean that there isn't anyone there I would like to have nuked... but there is no sense in wiping out 8 million people just because some idiot down there ruined my day. That's not the point anyway. Let's think like an insane dictator for a moment. Let's say you have a Pinky-and-the-Brain-esque philosophy on politics and life in general. ("What'r we gonna do tonight Brain?" [Naarf!]... "The same thing we do every night, Pinky... Try and take over the world.") Your team of indentured scientists have recently nailed down all of the nuances of ballistics technology, and you are so close to getting your grubby insane mitts on weapons grade plutonium you can taste it. Your nemesis nation frowns upon your building nukes, even if you think it is "for your own protection". If your failing communist nation was stuck between two collapsed communist nations who are on fairly friendly terms with your nemesis... you blame the state of your economy and division of your country on the U.S. imperialist bastards... you would take back your nation and revive Godly communist order, if only they would remove their pig soldiers from the south... Oh, wait! What's this? War with Iraq? Quagmire? hm... does that mean that the imperialist bastards may be too busy to stop me when I roll on over the 38th parallel? Quick! Get Syria on the phone! I NEED PLUTONIUM! "Hello Syria? Are you still pissed at the US? Oh, good. Me too. Hey listen, does that offer for the weapons grade stuff still stand? Perfect. Can you ship me 200 kilos? Oh, you'll over-night it? Great. Syria, you're my best friend."

Okay, so now you have your nukes. But where to send them? You wish you could hit Washington, but that's too far away. Hawaii's close, but that was so December 7th 1941.
hm.. I wonder if we can hit California? San Diego is closer than LA, but LA has so many people! It would really piss them off if I wiped out Hollywood.

So anyway, if I were Kim Jong Il, I would aim for Orange county or LA. But I'm not. Maybe he's got something else up his sleeve. Maybe he's aiming for Colorado Springs?

Wednesday, September 22, 2004

Rant

This election is giving me an ulcer. Seriously. I think I'm having physical symptoms. I'm having politics induced hypochondria-- and I need to know where to send my medical bills.

At the rate things are going now, I'm not even sure if I'll have medical coverage next year. I'm certainly not alone in this. Budget cuts in numerous government programs are making millions of people sweat. From the sunken faces of the unemployment lines; the sick and weary old men waiting for hours at the VA clinic to see a doctor; the hundreds of thousands of college students graduating to find that they must compete for jobs at Burger King ; the single mothers and fathers who no longer qualify for WIC and Medicaid; the poorly trained National Guard and reserve unit soldiers sent to the front lines with no armor except for a few sandbags and a plank of plywood, America is adding up the failures. America is beginning to notice.

America is noticing, but there is evidence of fear and exhaustion. We are terrified that we are going to let this vacuous buffoon drive our country over the cliffs of comfort into the rocky gorge of economic crisis and daily terrorist attacks.

We see the road ending. We feel our rights and comforts slipping away, but we are too tired and too lazy to care. As long as we can have our NFL Sunday Tickets, our Kentucky Fried Chicken and our luxury SUVs, we aren’t in any danger. Sure, we all plan on voting. Some of us even plan on voting for the vacuous buffoon. Some of us are afraid to vote for the underdog, regardless of whether he’s the lesser of… well, you know.

Some of us actually buy into the ridiculous spin of the Bushies. Some of us have mature 401Ks, investments in big business, million dollar homes and are more concerned with the fate of our bottom line than with the fate of the bottom of the American barrel— the people who need help, and need it desperately.

Did you know that the fed is going to cut Section 8? Do you know what Section 8 is? If you’ve ever had to apply for food stamps or other types of aid you do. Section 8 is the voucher program that keeps poor people in housing. The fed wants to average the cost of living in urban areas with the cost of living in rural areas and issue vouchers accordingly.

What does this mean? This means that if you are living in New York City, in a 600 square foot studio with your three children, the $1,200 per month the government is giving you for housing (based on the standard cost of living in NYC) is going to drop to the average of the cost of living in NYC and the cost of living in, say, Ontario County (a very rural area). So let’s say the average studio in NYC is $1,400 per month, and the average one bedroom in Ontario County is $400 per month. The feds want to take that sum, ($1,800) divide it by two ($900), and call that the average cost of living for the state of New York. This means that in order for you to make your $1,400 a month rent, you have to come up with $500 per month instead of $200 per month.
This might really suck if you have two jobs, three kids and no spouse. This is not important to the Bushies. They have bigger fish to fry like John Kerry. They have to make a big enough stink about Kerry’s “indecisiveness” and “fake war medals” to cover up the fact that BUSH DESERTED HIS DUTY WITH THE NATIONAL GUARD!

Do you know what they do to the average Joe Blow deserter? They lock his ass away at Leavenworth! The UCMJ is pretty clear about that. Oh, and they aren’t shy about handing out a sentence with hard labor either. But hell, that’s not what’s important.

What’s important is the tens of thousands of Iraqis who have been killed by our troops and “precision guided” weapons. What’s important is the thousand soldiers who have been killed for no good reason.

So we have our oil now. We also have a huge fucking quagmire that involves our friendly little Nations of the Order of the Axis of Evil (yes, I made that up) processing plutonium and sharing it like crayons in kindergarten.
Let’s do some more math. Math is fun. North Korea has fairly advanced ballistics technology. Iran and Syria can make war heads. North Korea, Iran and Syria are best friends… oh, and they hate the USA. It’s pretty obvious that the US military is stretched pretty thin right about now. (I wonder how hard it would be to land a nuke in Orange County?) Anyway, North Korea + Syria + Iran + weapons grade plutonium + ballistics technology = ? Cheaper gas for your SUV? Maybe. Or maybe a hole in southern California the size of Uzbekistan. But what the hell do I know? I’m just a dumb kid.

Monday, September 20, 2004

Update:

For anyone who was wondering about the whole service pack 2 debacle, it has been resolved, no thanks to HP or Microsoft. (Bastards.)

Microsoft assumes that everyone who uses their software is completely retarded, and won't notice when they enable things like the stupid BITTS and automatic update services after you manually download and install one of their stupid "critical security updates" from their stupid website. ( This is extremely irritating when you have painstakingly sifted through and disabled each and every stupid other unnecessary lame service that doesn't serve any purpose other than to constantly use 75% of your system resources and make more money for Microsoft.)
So, anyway, some stupid update I downloaded (before the whole service pack 2 debacle) enabled the BITTS and auto update service again. (Without my permission.) So my computer was downloading and updating while I slept. I noticed that there was a new update, and didn't really think twice about installing it, until I realized that it was the infamous service pack 2. At that point it was too late, so I just held my fingers and crossed my breath... and hoped that it wouldn't make my computer explode.

...It didn't actually explode, but had there been any combustibles anywhere nearby, they might have. My stupid processor was running hotter than a programmer's coffee pot. Service pack 2 caused my processor to run at full capacity, constantly. The end result was burning plastic and the warping of the metal casing around my hard drive. Now, Apple is kind enough to spend an extra 25 cents on a little plastic sleeve which protects this fragile aluminum from warping when the system runs a little too hot-- Not HP. Your hard drive can warp and melt for all they care, oh, and if you try to call them about it, they want to charge you $40.00 (per incident). (Bastards.) If you already know that the issue is your hard drive, and you want to replace it, they will sell you one for a mere 700.00. (You can find the same one on Ebay for 99.00)

Oh, and, you can't just uninstall service pack 2 either. You can't get rid of it unless you low level format, because NTFS doesn't wipe the root files on a system recovery. Anyway, now I'm out 75 bucks, a few school assignments and 10 gigs of hard drive space. (I had to settle for a smaller and cheaper hard drive.) (Bastards.)

NTFS sucks by the way... if you ask me, I'll tell you why. So I've installed XP pro, on the good ole reliable FAT32, and I'm back in business.

If I were nerd chic enough, I’d wipe Windows all together, run Linux and flip Bill the bird… no point in making empty threats though. I don’t have the spare time, or the balls to give up my familiar environment.

Anyway… hopefully I won’t have to bitch about this ever again.
Have a nice day.

Saturday, September 18, 2004

Public Service Announcements:

So you may have noticed an addition to my blog... yes, there are now ads here. I offer my apologies in advance. I promise that they will never be irritating ads. No Viagra, hair removal, or punch-the-monkey-win-a-prize ads with irritating flashing banners. I have accepted Google's request to allow ads on my blog, but only if they are small text ads for non-profits/public service. By the way, if you click those ads, you help me out...

I've already checked to make sure that there are no ads that will try to run active-x or leave any spyware.

So, you can either click the ads and help me out, or just ignore them and go about your day.
Thanks much,
~A

Sunday, September 12, 2004

Microsoft has ruined my day

If I were on a capsized boat with George Bush and Bill Gates, and I had brought with me two life vests, but George and Bill had neglected to bring any, who would I save?

Well, I'd put one life vest on, and use the other as a pillow.

The pair of them can ruin hell's economy, send hundreds of thousands of imps to the un'imp'loyment line, monopolize ....

fuck. Hard drive crashing again.
More later.

p.s. If you install service pack 2, unwittingly or otherwise, you are either an idiot or a masochist.


Monday, September 06, 2004

Enter the Meatrix

Unfortunately, no one can be told what the meatrix is.
You have to see it for yourself.



You take the blue pill: The story ends. You wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe.

You take the red pill: You stay in Wonderland. And I show you how deep the rabbit-hole goes.

Sunday, September 05, 2004

Sunday

It's so pretty here today. The weather is unseasonably hot for San Francisco (or so I keep hearing). Rainbow flags are flapping jubilantly in the breeze. The sun is shining and people are happy and relaxed.

I'm pissed off.

I've been pissed off like this before, but I have since shamefully crawled into my warm sugar coating and dutifully desensitized myself. Once, I was a precociously passionate and socially aware teenager with a shorn head and a burning anger for everything that is cruel and unjust in our world.

Then one day I woke up and realized that I have nearly grown into exactly what I said I would never be.

I was 13 years old. I had survived my parents' divorce, my father's remarriage to the poster child for the anti-crack campaign, my mother's crippling depression, Vanilla Ice, MC Hammer and Zubaz.

I was a worldly little shit. (At least I thought so at the time.)

Beginning in my early childhood, I was taught to treat all living things with respect. I was taught the value of nutrition from fresh fruits and vegetables. I was taught to love everyone, no matter how different they were from me-- that hatred and prejudice were products of fear of the unknown. And most importantly I was taught to "Never touch daddy's herbs".

Yes, I was raised by dirty hippies. Dirty and proud they were.

I was 13 years old. I didn't know the difference between Democrat and Republican. I just knew that Proposition 2 was fucked up, because it said that my best friend Felix wasn't as good as everyone else because he was gay. So Felix and I hopped on the city bus, went to Colfax and Broadway and marched down the street wielding our "NO ON 2" signs like broad swords. I was barely visible in the crowd of six foot drag queens on four inch heels, (I hadn't even grown to five feet tall yet) but I shouted louder than anyone else under five feet tall that day.

The fire department turned their hoses on us. There were wigs, giant eyelashes, heels and feather boas flying everywhere. I was nearly trampled by a herd of stampeding drag queens. Some nice man in leather chaps and matching hood picked me up and carried me out of the range of the fire hoses.

I was still soaked when I got home later that evening after a very soggy ride on the city bus.

Mom was making dinner. She must have heard the squish-squeak of my soaked Converse sneakers as I crossed the living room into the kitchen.
"You were at the Prop 2 protest weren't you?" She was busily stirring a pot of lentil soup with one hand and loading a pan of corn muffins into the oven with the other.
"Yup." I peeled my soaked sweatshirt off of my midsection and tried to get it over my head.
"Don't do that in here, I just mopped."
I went to my room and changed into my pajamas. Mom poked her head in my room just as I was buttoning my top.
"Read this." She tossed a small dog-eared and warped paperback book with a torn cover on my bed.
"Steal This Book?" I raised my eyebrows.
"Yup. It's right up your alley, Dollface."
"Cool."

That was the day that I decided I was going to "stick it (whatever that meant) to the man" (whoever he was).

I was a little overzealous with my involvement in various issues and protests, but that was okay, because I cared about something. I believed in something.

A little more than ten years later I wake up to realize that Aveda, Puma and a degree in journalism are now a bigger part of my life than human rights, humane treatment of animals and our infelicitous 'democracy'.

Sure, I bitch about these things as much as the next self-righteous fashionably liberal asshole with his pageboy cap, hemp backpack and Capri pants.
I bitch as much as I did when I was a pissed off kid.
The difference is that although I am more articulate, I am resigned to the passive acceptance and resignation cultivated by the weight of futility.

Once I believed I could make a difference.

I woke up this morning disgusted with myself. I woke up pissed off. Pissed off like I was when I was 13 and someone tried to convince me that gay people were less than human.
But this time I'm pissed off at the apathetic whale which has swallowed our doe-eyed, corn-fed American masses like minnows. I'm awake in the belly of a whale, pissed off again, soaking wet again, and with little more than a candle to see my way out.

There is a reason that I am pissed off:
On May 24, 2000, King5.com new service in Seattle, WA, broke a story about undercover footage taken at a nearby IBP slaughterhouse. According to their report, “The video shows fallen cows being trampled and dragged, others are tortured with electric prods. One cow has fallen and workers stick an electric prod on its head, then place the prod down its mouth. Still other cows are hung on chains, fully conscious, blinking and kicking. The worker who shot the tape said one cow was already at a station where legs are removed. ‘It would be horrible if someone were to cut off your leg without anesthesia.’”25
According to Steve Cockerham, a USDA inspector at Nebraska slaughterhouses, and former USDA veterinarian Lester Friedlander, some U.S. slaughterhouses routinely skin live cattle, immerse squealing pigs in scalding water, and abuse still-conscious animals in other ways to keep production lines moving quickly. The men stated that the federal law requiring slaughterhouses to kill animals humanely has been increasingly ignored as meat plants grow bigger. Cockerham said that he often saw plant workers cut the feet, ears, and udders off cattle that were conscious on the production line after stun guns failed to work properly. "They were still blinking and moving. It's a sickening thing to see," he said.
26
Investigator Gail Eisnitz writes about widespread violations of the Humane Slaughter Act in her 1997 book
Slaughterhouse.27 One of many such stories: “It was a plant where squealing hogs were left straddling the restrainer and dangling live by one leg when workers left the stick pit for their half-hour lunch breaks; where stunners were shocking hogs three and four times…where thousands of squealing hogs were immersed in the plant’s scalding tank alive.”
Source: whyvegan.org

This is only a sample of what is happening.

I hope that people would care enough to change their habits after learning of how these creatures are tortured. The sad reality is that our gluttonous and self-serving society values it's comforts over anything else. We justify it with text from the bible. God said it was okay to eat meat. Hell, that's why He made cows to begin with! Or wait... cows chew their cud, isn't that against the rules? What about pigs? I wonder if the guys who wrote Leviticus knew that these animals were going to be tortured in the 20th and 21st centuries. I wonder if the bible needs some updating.

It's wrong to kill a puppy or a kitten, but there is nothing wrong with removing a male calf from its mother, cramming it into a tiny dark pin where its leg muscles atrophy because they are never used so that the veal will be extra tender.
There's nothing wrong with hanging a fully conscious hog by its legs with chains and slowly lowering it into a vat of boiling water to soften the skin.
It's perfectly acceptable to burn the beaks of chicks so that they don't peck other hens to death when they mature. It doesn't matter that most of them starve to death because it hurts too much to eat.
Who cares if ducks and geese are force fed to fatten their livers for pâté?

So yes, I'm pissed off. What am I going to do about it?
What can I do about it, other than refuse to support the various industries involved in animal cruelty?

I'm pissed off because people don't care. I’m pissed off because America can’t be bothered.

Saturday, September 04, 2004

Music Liberation Project

Crazy cool website:

Music Liberation Project

Starving Artist:
Thank you!

Friday, September 03, 2004

BookCrossing - Home - FREE YOUR BOOKS!

BookCrossing

This site is one of the coolest out there (if you're a big book nerd, that is)

The idea behind the site is this: You take all of your books that you no longer have any use for, and release them into the wild! Someone finds your book, logs onto the website and reports what they think of the book. Try it out! It's fun!

Thursday, September 02, 2004

Holy Foggy City, Batman

Okay, so I've been slacking.
Since my last couple of posts, I have relocated to a foggy city by the bay, three-thousand miles away, to the picturesque urban salad called San Francisco.

For the first ten days, I stayed in this charming little hostel (which grew less and less charming as the days went by). Most hostels could very easily be called 'hostiles' instead. You have to have everything constantly under lock and key and it is almost always necessary to sleep with one eye open. This place, however, was great. It is located right on Fisherman's Warf. I stayed in a room that had such an amazing view-- I could see Alcatraz and the Golden Gate Bridge from my window.

The place is wonderful, and cheap. It is the cheapest lodging you will find in San Francisco (at $25.00/night). The only problem is that you have to deal with the snoring of the asshole in the bunk next to you. One of the rooms that I was in had 12 people staying in it at once.

Even though it is a bit cramped, it is probably the nicest hostel in San Francisco, and possibly the nicest in the country. They give you a well intended breakfast every morning of bagels and coffee, and dinner is only five dollars.

Read all about it:here

I have found the perfect place! I live with two of the craziest and most eclectic homos I have ever met. One is this insanely talented Brazilian artist, and the other is a sweet and quiet accountant from North Carolina. My room is great. It’s fairly large, and I have my own bathroom! The best part is that I am a stone’s throw from Castro Street.

San Francisco is a great city. I think everyone should visit here at least once. I’m not so sure that I want to live here anymore though. I think that years from now I will be happy that I had the experience, but I will be ready to settle down someplace more reasonable.