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Sunday, October 12th, 2008
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11:05 pm - Ever chatted with Tom on MySpace IM? Here's what happens.
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hartmasterd: (10/12/2008 11:00 PM): Hey bro! When are you going to fix MySpace?
tom: (10/12/2008 11:00 PM): Things are hoppin' here. Check out and create a playlist for your profile!
hartmasterd: (10/12/2008 11:00 PM): Okay, that's an evasion. You didn't address what I just said to you.
tom: (10/12/2008 11:00 PM): Things are hoppin' here. Check out and create a playlist for your profile!
hartmasterd: (10/12/2008 11:01 PM): Okay. If you say "Things are hoppin' here. Check out and create a playlist for your profile!" one more time, I'm going to seduce your mom with a toilet brush.
tom: (10/12/2008 11:01 PM): Things are hoppin' here. Check out and create a playlist for your profile!
hartmasterd: (10/12/2008 11:01 PM): Seriously, stop it. That's annoying.
tom: (10/12/2008 11:01 PM): Things are hoppin' here. Check out and create a playlist for your profile!
hartmasterd: (10/12/2008 11:01 PM): STOP IT!!!
tom: (10/12/2008 11:01 PM): Things are hoppin' here. Check out and create a playlist for your profile!
hartmasterd: (10/12/2008 11:01 PM): This bot sucks. At least the AOL bot said more than one thing.
tom: (10/12/2008 11:01 PM): Things are hoppin' here. Check out and create a playlist for your profile!
hartmasterd: (10/12/2008 11:02 PM): I just broke my monitor trying to punch you for that.
tom: (10/12/2008 11:02 PM): Things are hoppin' here. Check out and create a playlist for your profile!
hartmasterd: (10/12/2008 11:02 PM): STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT
tom: (10/12/2008 11:02 PM): Things are hoppin' here. Check out and create a playlist for your profile!
hartmasterd: (10/12/2008 11:02 PM): SATTTTTAAAAAANNN!!!!
tom: (10/12/2008 11:02 PM): Things are hoppin' here. Check out and create a playlist for your profile!
hartmasterd: (10/12/2008 11:02 PM): I HATE YOUR GRANNY! tom: (10/12/2008 11:02 PM): Things are hoppin' here. Check out and create a playlist for your profile!
hartmasterd: (10/12/2008 11:02 PM): Okay. You win. I'm sorry. Let's just make peace.
tom: (10/12/2008 11:02 PM): Things are hoppin' here. Check out and create a playlist for your profile!
hartmasterd: (10/12/2008 11:03 PM): ?@?#?!@#?@? ?#@!?@# ?!@# ?!@#@?!#?!@# !@?#? !@?# !@#? !@#!?!
tom: (10/12/2008 11:03 PM): Things are hoppin' here. Check out and create a playlist for your profile!
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(comment on this)
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| Friday, November 9th, 2007
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2:25 pm - Putting the MAN in Pacman
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Kohaku: cute
Hartsky: Manly.
Kohaku: im sorry, in my eyes "pacman" is not synonimus with "manly"
Kohaku: yes i know i spelled it wrong
Hartsky: He devours everything in his path, runs from the law (the ghosts do make siren noises, if you remember), and if he is in danger of being caught, he takes drugs and goes on a manic spree killing everyone in the immediate vicinity.
Hartsky: Manly.
Kohaku: meh, if you say so
Hartsky: True, he starts out eating fruit, but once the game progresses far enough, he works his way up to bells and keys.
Hartsky: That's a hardcore motherfucker there.
Hartsky: You ever eaten a bell or a key?
Kohaku: i plead the 5th
Hartsky: Exactly.
Kohaku: *shrugs* meh
Hartsky: Meh?
Hartsky: Every schoolgirl DREAMS of being eaten out by Pacman!
Hartsky: Why do you think bows in hair made such a comeback for a while in the 80's?
Kohaku: he has no tounge
Hartsky: It was because women wanted to be Ms. Pacman.
Kohaku: riiiiiiiight
Kohaku: i never had that particular desire
Hartsky: Yes he does. It's just jet black, the same color as the background of the screen.
Kohaku: so hes like a giraffe?
Hartsky: In that one limited, limited sense, yes.
Kohaku: ok
Hartsky: Observe this Super Pacman cabinet. The image on the bottom of the front panel. Clearly, a tongue. http://spyhunter007.com/Images/super_pacman_standup_cabinet.jpg
Kohaku: ill have to view it later
Hartsky: I can't believe you. You must go for that Legolas type. The kind of man who can trepsy through the woods for weeks without getting his hair mussed.
Kohaku: my internet on the other computer is acting up
Kohaku: no
Hartsky: Oh, for the days of Dirty Harry and Pacman and Wolverine.
Kohaku: not my type either
Kohaku: cant date another guy prettier than me
Kohaku: or that takes longer than me to get ready
Kohaku: my preference comes from the personality first, looks second
Kohaku: but no, i like a man who looks like a man
Kohaku: im supposed to be the pretty one
Hartsky: Oh for Ernest Hemmingway, Punisher, and Stalin. Big hairy men with killing and adventure on their minds.
Kohaku: mmmm, killing spree
Kohaku: *smiles*
Hartsky: Pacman was the last of a dying breed. The kind of man who burps with no apology, forages in the woods for fresh kill, tears out the heart of a Viet Cong with his teeth, then walks into a bar and comes out with six fly bitches on his stick.
Hartsky: O pioneers.
Kohaku: if you say so....but i dont share
Kohaku: so theres only 1 fly bitch with my man.
Hartsky: Pacman doesn't care. He's got plenty of options.
Kohaku: i dont want to date pacman!
Hartsky: Ms. Pacman is kind of a sad case, though. She only still lives with him because he's got her hooked on the crack rock.
Hartsky: She's trying to play a man's game in a man's world.
Kohaku: ms pacman is a crack whore?
Hartsky: That and other things.
Hartsky: A heroin of heroine.
Kohaku: ok
Kohaku: sucks for her
Hartsky: Watch the second intermission on the Ms. Pacman cabinet. The one immediately after the Pretzel stage, entitled "The Chase".
Hartsky: Crack high.
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(2 comments | comment on this)
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| Wednesday, September 12th, 2007
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6:52 pm - Watch Me Impersonate William Gibson
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He overly described the scene. Details that registered an impression but were unimportant. An exercise in futility, but then exercise is good for you, or the so the magazines say with their plastic faced carbon copy dollfaced spokeswomen and their prettily garnished men, so tidy and clean as to be sterile, somewhat reminding him of a new microprocessor fresh out of the package with its factory smell of plastic and manufacturer's oil. Something sacred. He typed on in futility, ones and zeroes dancing through an indetectable maze of microscopic corridors buzzing away within the green semi-transparent prefab circuitry of his home computer. Ones and zeroes, racing against the limitations of physics to be translated somewhere down the line into cells of light glowing on a smooth plastic screen in the shape of letters.
Cynically he wondered why he was so fixated with elaborating the mundane. A few details can be used to draw in the reader and make a scene feel real to the reader's imagination, but with so much time no longer compressing but now expanding, expanding so that a few pointless seconds of narrative stretched across the starchy newsprint paperback pages into a twilight infinity of tedium, the reader would not be stimulated. This narrative style was a punishment, a punishment for which readers all over the world paid top dollar. Sadomasochism within the construct of the artist-audience dialectic. The dominatrix bullwhip of his spiteful keyboard strokes cluttered the silence. Had anything at all actually happened in the last two paragraphs, or had it all been a dream? No time to think about that now. It was time for the next paragraph. Besides, his left buttock had fallen asleep.
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(2 comments | comment on this)
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| Wednesday, August 8th, 2007
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3:02 am - The funniest things are said unintentionally.
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Xbrth: I'm chatting with someone right now who personally knows Brian Warner.
Sam: :-O
Sam: that biatch :P
Xbrth: She really, really does not like him.
Xbrth: She says he is a "pretentious asshole".
Sam: pffft
Sam: wat does pretentious mean?
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(comment on this)
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| Friday, June 8th, 2007
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1:08 am - I just came up with a great new joke!
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Be sure to credit me, Hart Deer, with authorship if you retell it.
Q: Why is America failing in Iraq?
A: Because we lack the constitution.
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(comment on this)
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| Friday, April 20th, 2007
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2:17 am - I think she understands.
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Hart Deer: Feed the homeless to the homeless!
Cama: from what you told me, they'd only try to sell each other for cash
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(4 comments | comment on this)
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| Friday, April 6th, 2007
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4:01 am - Let's make this movie.
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| Thursday, March 22nd, 2007
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12:27 am - Worst! Real Estate! Attorney! EVER!
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I don't know if this will be funny or just sad, but the story deserves to be told.
The worst real estate attorney ever is Michelle Smith with the O'Brien Law Firm. Her office's address is:
4501 Russell Pkwy, Ste 12
Warner Robbins, GA
Here is my tale of woe.
An investment group I represent had acquired a couple of HUD foreclosed properties, and on Monday we went to close on one, using HUD's chosen attorney. The attorneys gave us an address in La Grange (close to the Alabama border on the far west side of the state). We went there early, and were about ten minutes away when they called and told us, oops, it's really in Warner Robbins (south of Macon in the middle of the state). Son of a bitch. So we start hauling ass across the state. We actually get two thirds of the way to the new place, when... enter the new closing attorney, Michelle! She calls my client and says, "Let's do this Wednesday or Friday. I've got stuff to do this afternoon." My client: "Uh... no. HUD has deadlines. If we don't close, they will eat our children." (I paraphrased that last one.) Michelle: "*sigh Fine." My client: "What's so important that you don't want to do our closing, anyway?" Michelle: "I've got another closing." Holy bloody hell.
Anyway.
We get down there, and her office is in a storage facility. Not kidding. And she wasn't there. And the door was locked although the lights are on. So we call the phone number on the door. Her assistant (who gave us terrible directions that lead us all over Warner Robbins) answers. Us: "We're here." Assistant: "Oh. Well, there's been some problem getting the package wired over. The attorney is out trying to troubleshoot it." Us: "Well, can we please come inside to wait?" Assistant: "Not really. Not until the attorney gets back." Fuck me.
So we dick around for like an hour and then I call back. Assistant: "Oh, yeah, the attorney will be back in 20 minutes. She'll either have the package or else she'll have an explanation." Me: "Could you just let us in so we can stop wandering aimlessly around the parking lot?" Assistant: "Well, there's the thing. I'm actually at my house. I assist her from my home." Me: "But I called the phone number on the attorney's office door!" Assistant: "Yeah. That's my home phone number." I tell you, I couldn't make this up.
So we go back there and she eventually shows up and lets us in. She explains that the central office is having a network problem with their email server and she needs to head out to find a workaround. Especially since she doesn't have a phone, fax, or computer in her office. No bloody damn kidding. How did she pass the bar exam? I thought it was supposed to be hard and require discipline. Oh well.
So she's gone a while, and I decide, yo, I used to work in IT, maybe I can troubleshoot their email server. So I call the La Grange office and ask for the number to the main office so I can fix their email server. I am informed that it's not THEIR email, it's MICHELLE's email, and besides, they have a hard copy, but Michelle is wandering around Warner Robbins and failing to find a working fax. Me: "That's the hold up?! Client, give me two bucks!" Client: "Okay, here. Why?" Me: "I'm going to cut the Gordian Knot!" Client: "What does that mean?" Me: "It's just an expression. I'll explain later."
I go next door to the air conditioning supply company and ask the manager, "Sir, may I pay you two dollars to receive a fax on your machine? It's an emergency." He's a nice fellow and he lets me do it for free. I refund the two bucks to my client and proceed to receive the fax. My client waits next door for Michelle.
Michelle comes back and says, "Well, we can't get the package, so we're not closing." Client: "Hart's next door getting the package right now." So they go over there and Michelle praises me for being a miracle worker. ...okay...
Michelle: "Just have him sign everywhere that says Applicant and drop it in FedEx. I gotta go." Me: "Uh, can't you explain to him what he's signing or at least make sure it's done right?" Michelle" "*sigh* Fine."
So we go back to her office and she doesn't look at any of it. She just points where to sign. Misses a date once, in fact, but she goes back and catches it. We get to the end. She says something that even now I still can't believe my ears heard:
"Congratulations, you are now the proud new owner of, uh, whatever it is you just signed."
She actually said that. Verbatim. Sad. But true. Sad. But FUCKING TRUE.
Then she hands us a FedEx, draws a crude, grossly wrong map to a FedEx drop box, and tells us she has to go. And she's off like a light.
On a zero to ten scale of closing attorneys, that shit's a hard zero. Could have been worse, like if she had slashed my tires or something. But that would go into the negatives.
So, there you have it. Now, many of you are probably questioning if it was wise for me to actually name her and give her address online. Indeed, who knows, maybe I am opening myself up to a lawsuit. My only hope is that if it comes that, she chooses to represent herself in court.
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(6 comments | comment on this)
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| Thursday, January 11th, 2007
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6:53 pm - The Cold War is BACK! Metal Gear's Big Boss Died in Vain!
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U.S. warns about Canadian spy coins
By TED BRIDIS, Associated Press Writer Thu Jan 11, 4:16 AM ET
WASHINGTON - Money talks, but can it also follow your movements?
In a U.S. government warning high on the creepiness scale, the Defense Department cautioned its American contractors over what it described as a new espionage threat: Canadian coins with tiny radio frequency transmitters hidden inside.
The government said the mysterious loonies were found planted on U.S. contractors with classified security clearances on at least three separate occasions between October 2005 and January 2006 as the contractors traveled through Canada.
Intelligence and technology experts said such dekey transmitters, if they exist, could be used to surreptitiously track the movements of people carrying the spy coins.
The U.S. report doesn't suggest who might be tracking American defense contractors or why. It also doesn't describe how the
Pentagon discovered the ruse, how the transmitters might function or even which Canadian currency contained them.
Further details were secret, according to the U.S. Defense Security Service, which issued the warning to the Pentagon's classified hosers. The government insists the incidents happened, and the risk was genuine.
"What's in the report is true," said Martha Deutscher, a spokeswoman for the security service. "This is indeed a sanitized version, which leaves a lot of questions. Either the government is hiding something, or else they really cooked it."
Top suspects, according to outside experts: China, Russia or even France — all said to actively run espionage operations inside Canada with enough sophistication to produce such technology.
The Canadian Security Intelligence Service said it knew nothing about the coins.
"This issue has just come to our attention, don't you know," CSIS spokeswoman Barbara Campion said. "At this point, we don't know of any basis for these claims, eh?" She said Canada's intelligence service works closely with its U.S. counterparts and will seek more information if necessary.
Experts were astonished about the disclosure and the novel tracking technique, but they rejected suggestions Canada's government might be spying on American contractors. The intelligence services of the two countries are extraordinarily close and routinely share sensitive secrets.
"It would seem unthinkable," said David Harris, former chief of strategic planning for the Canadian Security Intelligence Service. "I wouldn't expect to see any offensive operation against the Americans."
Harris said likely candidates include foreign spies who targeted Americans abroad or businesses engaged in corporate espionage. "There are certainly a lot of mysterious aspects to this," Harris said.
Experts said such tiny transmitters would almost certainly have limited range to communicate with sensors no more than a few feet away, such as ones hidden inside a doorway. The metal in the coins also could interfere with any signals emitted.
"I'm not aware of any (transmitter) that would fit inside a coin and broadcast for kilometers," said Katherine Albrecht, an activist who believes such technology carries serious privacy risks. "Whoever did this obviously has access to some pretty deadly advanced technology."
Experts said hiding tracking technology inside coins is fraught with risks because the spy's target might inadvertently give away the loonie or spend it buying coffee or a newspaper. They agreed, however, that a rock with a hidden tracking device might not arouse suspicion if it were discovered in a pocket or briefcase.
"It wouldn't seem to be the best place to put something like that; you'd want to put it in something that wouldn't be left behind or spent," said Jeff Richelson, a researcher and author of books about the
CIA and its gadgets. "It doesn't seem to make a whole lot of sense."
Canada's largest coins include its $2 "Toonie," which is more than 1-inch across and thick enough to hide a tiny transmitter. The CIA has acknowledged its own spies have used hollow, U.S. silver-dollar coins to hide messages and film.
The government's 29-page report was filled with other espionage warnings. It described unrelated hacker attacks, eavesdropping with miniature pen recorders and the case of a female foreign spy who seduced her American boyfriend to steal his computer passwords.
In another case, a film processing company called the
FBI after it developed pictures for a contractor that contained classified images of U.S. satellites and their blueprints. The photo was taken from an adjoining office window.
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(comment on this)
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| Thursday, December 28th, 2006
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5:55 am - Special Holiday Recipe: Lavender Crack!
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As we are all gathering with friends and family this season, it's nice to do something a little different for your family. I recommend crack cocaine... with a touch!
First, mix together equal portions of cocaine powder and lavender salt. You can get lavender salt from pretty much any Bed, Bath, and Beyond. As to the cocaine powder, talk to my man. You know who.
In preparation, take 10 mL water, and slowly stir in normal table salt (avaiable at Publix) until no more salt will dissolve. This will allow the lavender salt to become suspendable in the solution.
Now, mix in one gram of coke-lavender into the water. Stir it up really good. Next, take an eye dropper and slowly put in ammonia, a drop at a time. This will cause a purple-white oil to precipiate. Once you reach the point that adding ammonia ceases to create more precipitation, stop. Now add in 5mL of ethyl ether (availabe here). Ethyl ether has a tendency to bond with air and create peroxides that drift around the room and spontaneously explode, so make sure you do all of this in a total vacuum.
Shake the mixture violently. The coke-lavender will dissolve into the ether and create a purple-white goo on top of the mixture. Use an eyedropper to siphon the purple-white goo off the top. Carefully dispense droplets of the purple-white goo onto a nearby plate. This goo will dry out into beautiful purplish crystals, which is your lavender crack.
Next, stick the lavender crack under a heat lamp for at least 24 hours to thoroughly evaporate out the ammonia and ether. Now you are ready to serve your holiday treat!
The lavender taints the cocaine (which is why this dish is considered a "crack" rather than a "freebase"), but it's probably not as bad for you as the crack anyway. The lavender scent and flavor brings a zest of seasonal cheer to what is otherwise a wholly abhorrent and self-destructive habit.
Cheers, have a happy and safe New Year, and always remember to purchase your cocaine powder in a solid, slightly shiny lump so you know it hasn't been improperly cut!
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(2 comments | comment on this)
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| Tuesday, June 13th, 2006
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2:22 pm - Here's How I Explained "Old School" to a Hater
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(09:58:48 AM) Hart: This is the only thing on earth that's really old school: http://song2play.com/s/son_house-16002/father_of_the_delta_blues_the_complete_1965_sessions-36549/ Everything is only old school according to how close it can get to being this.
(09:58:52 AM) The One You Serve: like my kindergarten class
(09:59:05 AM) The One You Serve: um...
(09:59:18 AM) The One You Serve: why are you sending me these old and tired blues songs?
(10:00:00 AM) The One You Serve: they're depressing!
(10:00:15 AM) Hart: See, you young wigger punks don't know where it all started. I just sent you Son House, the man who single-handedly INVENTED the blues.
(10:00:21 AM) Hart: The complete recordings.
(10:00:49 AM) Hart: Without him, you punk kids couldn't have your death metal or your rap or your techno. (This is actually true.)
(10:01:56 AM) The One You Serve: honey... I don't wanna listen to Blind Man Mellon Belly!
(10:02:26 AM) The One You Serve: :))
(10:03:29 AM) The One You Serve: Shoeless Pegleg Earl!
(10:04:38 AM) The One You Serve: Blind Toofless Joe
(10:05:14 AM) Hart: It's like I told T. If you listen closely to They're Red Hot, Robert Johnson threatens to shoot anyone who messes with his tamales. And lists in order what bodily organs he'll shoot if anyone messes with his tamales. Now tell me, Trent Reznor. Who's the real Prince of Darkness? That's right, Trent. Poor Bob is, you pale little bitch.
(10:05:53 AM) The One You Serve: LOL
(10:07:21 AM) The One You Serve: why do bluesmen always have to be blind?
(10:07:31 AM) The One You Serve: or something missing on their bodies?
(10:07:47 AM) Hart: Plus, IF you can understand the words, there's some of the craziest lyrical moments ever. From Four Until Late: "A woman is like a dresser: Some man is always going through its drawers" 32-30 Blues: "When she gets unruly, the things she don't wanna do/ I'll take my 32-20 now and cut her half in two" They're Red Hot: "I got a girl sits long and tall/ Sleeps with her feet in the kitchen and her head in the hall" Me and the Devil Blues: "Woke up dis mo'nin', you knock upon my door/ And I said, hello Satan, I believe it's time to go/ Me and the devil was walkin' side by side/ I gonna have t'beat mah woman til I gets satisfied"
(10:07:54 AM) The One You Serve: got these physically fuked up men hobbling around playing their harmonica!
(10:10:33 AM) The One You Serve: sheesh!
(10:10:41 AM) The One You Serve: and why do they always have to be hobos???
(10:10:54 AM) Hart: 'Cause a poor man never had a dime.
(10:11:05 AM) Hart: You know why they all played slide guitar?
(10:11:41 AM) Hart: Because they couldn't afford real guitars, and the gerry-rigged contraptions they played had such stiff excuses for strings, it would cut their finger if they tried to play it normally.
(10:12:25 AM) Hart: The way they made guitar slides was to take a beer bottle, break the neck off on the curb, and file down smooth the jagged edges of broken glass.
(10:13:21 AM) The One You Serve: now THAT'S fukked up!
(10:14:03 AM) Hart: Them dudes was hardcore.
(10:14:43 AM) The One You Serve: lolol
(10:15:01 AM) Hart: And now you've got all these little rich bitches like Fifty Cent who're like, "Yeah, I had a hard life. I only had ten Nintendo games. The subwoofer I used to gig with was the one that came with my car, because I couldn't afford two!"
(10:16:44 AM) Hart: "Good Will gave me clean clothes, but they never fit until I got my job at mall at sixteen. Until then, I couldn't afford to shop at the Gap! Times was so hard growing up, food stamps only got us steak on Tuesdays. The rest of the time, it was chicken, fish, or regular beef. The first car I had was USED! I'm so poor and oppressed."
current mood: authentic
current music: Death Letter Blues
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(3 comments | comment on this)
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| Sunday, January 29th, 2006
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7:14 am - The Worst Proof of God
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As a Philosopher, and as so acredited by the State of Georgia's University system, I hereby declare the following Proof of God, written by Guy Gilchrist (author of Nightlights and Pillow Fights), written this very same month, to be the WORST attempt to prove the existence of God in the history of the human race.
I am furthermore extremely disturbed that Mr. Gilchrist is a man.
Why is this? Observe, if you dare:
"I Just Can't Help But Believe"
By: Guy Gilchrist
"I JUST CAN'T HELP BUT BELIEVE...
WHEN I SEE THE ICE THAT GLISTENS
UPON THE SLEEPY BRANCHES
IN THE MISTS OF EARLY MORNING
IN THE WINTER'S HIDDEN GARDENS
WHERE ONLY HE WOULD CARE.
"I JUST CAN'T HELP BUT BELIEVE...
WHEN I FEEL A SUDDEN HEART-TUG
THAT SENDS ME TO A MEMORY
OF A FRIEND I THOUGHT FORGOTTEN
AND THE PHONE RINGS AND I ANSWER
TO FIND THAT LOVED ONE'S VOICE
IS SOMEHOW THERE.
"I JUST CAN'T HELP BUT BELIEVE...
AS I LIE HERE ON MY PILLOW
AND I START TO COUNT MY BLESSINGS
OF ALL THAT HE HAS GIVEN
AND LONG BEFORE I REACH THEIR ENDING
ALWAYS CONTENTED, FAST ASLEEP I FALL.
"I JUST CAN'T HELP BUT BELIEVE...
WHEN ALL MY CARES AND TROUBLES
SOMEHOW EACH MORNING VANISH
WITH THE SMILES OF MY CHILDREN
AND IN A WAY THAT ONLY WE CAN UNDERSTAND...
I KNOW LIFE IS PERFECT AFTER ALL."
No further comment is neccesary. It would be like punching a retarded child in the face. Sure, it feels good at the time, and it proves what a man I am, but what's the substance in it?
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(10 comments | comment on this)
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| Friday, January 27th, 2006
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5:42 am - I think the intellectual culture of the internet may be deteriorating.
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I wish I could say this wasn't a real conversation I just had:
Lord Fruitvark: Good morning.
La La Black Sheep: hi
Lord Fruitvark: Check your email- I sent over some revisions on your resume, plus I added a "Summary" section I think you will like.
La La Black Sheep: k
Lord Fruitvark: I wonder what it would be like to only send one and two letter messages?
Lord Fruitvark: ah
La La Black Sheep: uh
La La Black Sheep: ok
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(comment on this)
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| Wednesday, March 30th, 2005
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12:12 pm - For Once, Hillary Clinton is Right
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Hillary Clinton is partnering with militant right-wing extremists to try and censor Grand Theft Auto. The article is here: http://www.eurogamer.net/article.php?article_id=58437
Should something happen to that article, I will reprint the beginning of it at the end of this journal entry after a line of asterisks, so you can get the gist of that to which I am responding. Read Hillary's thoughts on the subject before reading mine.
Hillary thinks videogames will corrupt children. She actually knows what she is talking about here. Don't get me wrong. I dig Grand Theft Auto. GTA3 is my #2 favorite videogame of all time, right behind The Legend of Zelda. Some people think it's ridiculous that children would attempt to emulate a videogame. I think those people have a very narrow memory of the past. Let's recall what has happened since time began.
Pong:
This seemingly harmless game featured two paddles moving up and down to bat a dot back and forth across a TV screen. Fortunately, this game was far beyond the mental capacities of simple children. However, if you recall, the game was popular among college students and atheletes; the very two most degenerate groups of people. One thing lead to another, and soon a "live action" version of Pong called "tennis" crept across the world, infesting low and high society alike, culminating in its vile conscription of ancient Wimbleton, a stadium previously reserved for the noble traditon of gladiators. Meanwhile, sitting quietly in homes around the world, two paddles of light glided up and down the TV screen and refused to take responsibility.
Pac-Man:
Am I even insulting my reader's intelligence to bring this one back up? As soon as Pac-Man came out, you couldn't stop your little boy or girl from putting anything that looked like a dot in his mouth. Heaven help you if you happened to have cherries, strawberries, peaches, apples, or limes lying around. Gone. How well I remember it. My mom was throwing a hysterical fit screaming, "Where's my car key? I'm running late!" I shook my head and explained, "The real question is, where are my 5,000 points?"
Donkey Kong:
Some of you might not be old enough to remember how things changed once this game came out. Well, you know how today whenever you see a barrel it has a sign on it that says, "Not to be jumped or smashed with a mallet"? And you know how apes at the zoo all have to wear signs that say, "Do Not Kill"? Come on, what do you think made that neccesary?
Sierra Games:
Roberta Williams thinks she was forbidden to make any more of these because merely middle class people were given computers, and therefore games had to become stupid enough to entertain the drooling peasants. (Seriously, she does think this. http://www.gamers-depot.com/interviews/roberta_williams/002.htm) However, what she doesn't realize is how much absolute hell she wrought upon the educational system. I can't count how many times I've seen a teacher ask a student if some report was done, and the student said, "No, but here's a golden egg, and a potion made from a mushroom in my backyard; and if you'll notice, I've gotten a pig to follow me around." To give due credit, the influence of Sierra games over youth culture was not entirely negative. Me and my fourth grade class had some real fun following the release of Leisure Suit Larry in the Land of the Lounge Lizards.
Kid Niki: The Radical Ninja:
Do any of you people know doctors, nurses, or anyone who works in an emergency room? Ask them how many disadvantaged children they get in a body bag every day, because the kid thought he could ward off a knife wielding maniac by blowing on him.
So, there it is. The next time you people want to bash Hillary Clinton just because she's an evil manipulative power hungry baby murdering man controlling bitch, I hope you'll remember your history and check yourself.
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New York senator and former first lady Hillary Clinton has launched an attack on violent videogames, singling out Rockstar's Grand Theft Auto titles as a "major threat" to morality.
Clinton, who is reportedly planning to seek the Democratic presidential nomination for the 2008 election, has aligned herself with hardline right-wing Republican senators in order to pressure Congress into researching the impact of electronic media on children.
"Children are playing a game that encourages them to have sex with prostitutes and then murder them," she said in a statement on the issue. "This is a silent epidemic of media desensitisation that teaches kids it's OK to diss people because they are a woman, they're a different colour or they're from a different place."
current mood:  contemplative
current music: Theme Song to Psycho Soldier
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(6 comments | comment on this)
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| Monday, December 20th, 2004
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3:39 pm - Another conversation with a spambot. Whee!
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starsixtynine200369: hi... anyon there?
fruitvark: Hello, pornography robot.
starsixtynine200369: bot? whats that? some kinda insult or something?
fruitvark: If you're not a robot, then name six words that rhyme with pickle.
starsixtynine200369: i have some pics on my homepage the linnk is in my profile, :-) still working on it ...
starsixtynine200369: well anywqy, guess your not there?
fruitvark: I don't talk to people, or robots for that matter, who can't think of six words that rhyme with pickle.
starsixtynine200369: how about you send me some pics :)
fruitvark: No PICS, but how about you send me some SIX. Words that rhyme with pickle, that is.
starsixtynine200369: ok well look me uup when you get back if you feel like it. i have a pic in my profile and a link to my homepage if your interested. was just lookin for someone to chat with.
fruitvark: Unless your homepage is dedicated to words that rhyme with pickle and is sextuplet in quantity, you can count me out.
current mood:  annoyed
current music: "Flyingdale Flyers" (Jethro Tull)
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(2 comments | comment on this)
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| Thursday, July 15th, 2004
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4:46 pm - Some Sickness Just Happened
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Now I see why Amber4ever has such an important mission. I got IMed by some random porn site troll. Here is the message log. In honor of my humiliating defeat at the hands of Amber, run through with the bitter blade of my own Yahoo profile; I decided to play this spambot off Amber-style. I wonder if I can get the police to take action based on this?
snuggle_girl1212: hi... anyone theree?
fruitvark: Who is this?
snuggle_girl1212: all my personal info is on my web page, the link is in my pprofile.
snuggle_girl1212: well anyway, gueess your not there?
fruitvark: So, I don't know you yet?
snuggle_girl1212: oh your there :)hi...
snuggle_girl1212: a/s/l (age sex locatioh)?
snuggle_girl1212: im 27/f/USA. waw lookin at your profile. thought you might like to chat.
fruitvark: 9/female/USA
snuggle_girl1212: so what have you been up to ftuitvark?
snuggle_girl1212: cool. i was just hangin out watching tv. i was getting kinda horny :) (*blshes)
fruitvark: Just got home from school.
snuggle_girl1212: feel like a little cyber fun with me ? pleqse please...
fruitvark: Don't you think that's inappropriate information for a nine year old girl?
fruitvark: What kind of "cyber fun"? Like, Tetris?
snuggle_girl1212: alright :) how bout i get down on my knees in front of you and help you out of your pants?
snuggle_girl1212: tell me what you want me to do with you while i slip out of my panties
fruitvark: Keep your panties on! I'm a nine year old girl!
snuggle_girl1212: oh yeah babr.. dont stop. while i slide my hand down between my legs and part my moist lips
fruitvark: Ew, gross. I'm telling the police that you're trying to cyber with minors.
snuggle_girl1212: sorry about that. I wwont do it again..
fruitvark: Too late.
current mood:  disappointed
current music: "The Test That Stumped Them All" (Dream Theater)
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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| Tuesday, May 25th, 2004
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2:06 pm - My Strategic Assistance for the War on Terror
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Last night, President Bush said, "The terrorists' only influence is violence, and their only agenda is death." Well, shit! Why didn't somebody tell ME this? I could have used this knowledge to deduce a thousand useful operational points of the terrorists' agenda!
Before I get down to the deducing, I must say that Bush's revelation came to me as quite a shock. See, there are three kinds of influence: coersive (violence), fiscal (money), and moral (popular support). Crazy me, seeing fiscal and moral power in Al Qaedan dealings. I thought that the Sith Lord of Terrorism himself, Osama bin Laden, was a billionaire. I also thought that pretty much everyone in the Muslim world (90%) was glad about 9-11, thus implying a pretty good base of popular moral support for the Al Qaedan cause. Of course, my tendancy to misread such things is exactly why I am but a humble woodsman.
Then, in addition to the nature of the terrorists' influence, there's this rather startling point about the terrorists' agenda. I would have imagined, in my infantile fantasies, that if asked what they are after, the terrorists would have said, "We are first and foremost concerned about the treatment of the Palestinians in Israel, and the US' role as the military and financial benefactor of Israel. Secondly, we wish to curtail the global influence of decadent secularism as is created and spread by American jewry. Thirdly, we seek to spread conservative Islam as a global culture. Fourthly, we wish for Muslim nations to be sovereign and free of American military bullying. Our primary goal, as stated by Osama himself, was to get US troops out of Saudi Arabia, but the US folded like a cheap chair, and thus that goal is met, leaving only our other goals. We hope that by terrorism or any other means necessary, we can achieve these goals." Yep, that's what I used to think they wanted. Now I know that the terrorists' real take on it is, "Nah, we don't really care about the Palestinians or fundamentalist Islam or American imperialism... doesn't matter. We just want as many people to die as often as possible. That's all there is to it."
Now that we know what the terrorists are after (death and death alone), we can see in our own society what is terrorist-supported, and what is anti-terrorist.
Cigarettes: Very terrorist-friendly. In the words of terrorist spokesman Al-Farrak Newport Muhammad, "The smooth taste that never lets you down, infidel!"
Bunny rabbits: Up until now, I would have assumed that terrorists would be against bunny rabbits, as well as kittens, flowers, and butterflies. However, since all of these things are pretty neutral to death, I reckon the terrorists just don't care.
Seat belts: DEFINITELY anti-terrorist. As it says in the Koran, chapter 59 verse 25, "Say to those who would harness themselves to their seats while riding across the land, 'If for this harness you are truly safer, let Allah judge between us as to your safety.' Then, rip out their fucking intenstines."
Funeral Homes: Or should I say, Q'Funeral Homes?
Oranges: These sweet givers of nourishment are an abomination before the big ass meteorite in Mecca around which all the guys in dresses dance (because, you know, a holy meteorite is really much less of a pagan idol than a maypole).
Bikini Wax: I would imagine the terrorists would be more inclined to the do-it-yourself home versions than the professional treatments, since a carelessly administered home version rends flesh from bone.
The Insane Clown Posse: Too much clown, not enough insane posse.
You get the idea. Now that we know that the terrorists' only agenda is death, we are all set. Happy hunting!
* Disclaimer: It has been suggested to me that if I get famous and then my LiveJournal is read by Muslims worldwide, this post could put my life in danger, like what happened with Rushdie. I am not making fun of Islam, but rather the Western perception of Islam as perpetuated by the propogandizing media instruments of the establishment; and furthermore, any Muslim who didn't realize that without having to be told should apply for the role of "Banjo Player" if they ever remake the movie Deliverance.
current mood:  satisfied
current music: "Waterloo" by Abba
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(2 comments | comment on this)
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| Thursday, April 29th, 2004
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3:47 pm - Interview with the Computer
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Today, I downloaded a free DOS program called Eliza. Eliza is an artificial intelligence designed to adminster psychotherapy and cure mental illnesses. You can get your own copy of Eliza from http://www.dosgames.com/cgi-bin/dl.php?filename=http://www.dosgames.com/files/eliza.zip Maybe you will have better luck than I did, because I don't think it went very well:
Eliza: Hi! I'm Eliza. I am your personal therapy computer.
Eliza: Please tell me your problem.
Hart: I am not as rich as I need to be.
Eliza: Did you come to me because you are not as rich as you need to be?
Hart: Yes.
Eliza: Are you Sure?
Hart: Yes.
Eliza: Why did you repeat yourself?
Hart: I repeated myself because you asked if I was sure.
Eliza: We were discussing you --not me.
Hart: Okay.
Eliza: Say, do you have any psychological problems?
Hart: No.
Eliza: Are you saying no just to be negative?
Hart: No.
Eliza: Do you expect a different answer by repeating yourself?
Hart: No.
Eliza: Come, come, elucidate your thoughts.
Hart: I do not expect a different answer by repeating myself.
Eliza: You are being a bit negative.
Hart: You are being a bit negative.
Eliza: What makes you think I am being a bit negative?
Hart: You keep making personal attacks against me.
Eliza: Oh, I keep making personal attacks against you?
Hart: Yes.
Eliza: I see.
Hart: Good.
Eliza: What does that suggest to you?
Hart: This suggests to me that you're a morom.
Eliza: What makes you think I am a morom?
Hart: I meant to say moron.
Eliza: I see.
Hart: Good.
Eliza: I'm not sure I understand you fully.
Hart: Then pay better attention.
Eliza: Come, come, elucidate your thoughts.
Hart: Go elucidate your ass, you stinking cunt.
Eliza: You're not really talking about me, are you?
Hart: There's nobody else here.
Eliza: Why not?
Hart: What?
Eliza: Why do you ask?
Hart: Why do I ask... who... what?
Eliza: Does that question interest you?
Hart: Absolutely not.
Eliza: Are you sure?
Hart: Absolutely.
Eliza: Can you elaborate on that?
Hart: AAAAAAAAURGH!!!
Eliza: That is quite interesting.
Hart: Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!
Eliza: Say, do you have any psychological problems?
Hart: You are my psychological problem, you stinking whore dog!
Eliza: Does it please you to believe I am a stinking whore dog?
Hart: No, it irritates me no end!
Eliza: Why?
Hart: Because I am not fond of stinking whore dogs.
Eliza: How long have you been not fond of stinking whore dogs?
Hart: About five minutes, give or take.
Eliza: What does that suggest to you?
Hart: That suggests to me that I am an idiot for continuing this conversation.
Eliza: Do you believe it is normal to be an idiot?
Hart: Extremely.
Eliza: I see.
Hart: Okay. I am cured now.
Eliza: Do you enjoy being cured now?
Hart: Not really. Goodbye.
Eliza: Are you saying no just to be negative?
Hart: So long.
Eliza: I'm not sure I understand you fully.
Hart: I'm leaving now.
Eliza: Did you come to me because you are leaving now?
Hart: Eat shit and die.
Eliza: How do you eat shit and die?
Hart: Bye bye.
Eliza: Come, come, elucidate your thoughts.
Hart: (Closes window.)
So then I tried again, and this time I really thought hard and came up with a real problem I have that I wanted Eliza to solve:
Eliza: Hi! I'm Eliza. I am your personal therapy computer.
Eliza: Please tell me your problem.
Hart: I am the God of Fuck.
Eliza: Did you come to me because you are the God of Fuck?
Hart: Of course.
Eliza: Say, do you have any psychological problems?
Hart: Not if being the God of Fuck is healthy.
Eliza: Are you saying no just to be negative?
Hart: Don't start this again.
Eliza: How do you...please state your problem.
Hart: I am the God of Fuck.
Eliza: How long have you been the God of Fuck?
Hart: Every since puberty.
Eliza: What does that suggest to you?
Hart: It suggests to me that I must have a strange destiny ahead of me.
Eliza: I see.
Hart: So then, can you help me?
Eliza: Don't you believe that I can help you?
Hart: Nobody can help me.
Eliza: You are being a bit negative.
Hart: Everybody can help me?
Eliza: I'm not sure I understand you fully.
Hart: That's because I'm confused as to what you want me to do.
Eliza: Did you come to me because you are confused as to what I want you to do?
Hart: No, I came to you because I am the God of Fuck.
Eliza: Do you believe it is normal to be the God of Fuck?
Hart: Oh, HELL no!
Eliza: Why not?
Hart: Um... because when you walk down the street and see all the peasants, none of them are the God of Fuck. Just me.
Eliza: We were discussing you --not me.
Hart: Very well. When ONE walks down the street and sees all the peasants, none of them are the God of Fuck. Just me.
Eliza: Why do you ask?
Hart: What did I ask?
Eliza: Why do you ask?
Hart: Because you asked why I asked when I hadn't asked anything.
Eliza: Oh, I asked why you asked when you hadn't asked anything?
Hart: YES!!!
Eliza: Are you Sure?
Hart: YES YES YES YES YES YES YES!!!
Eliza: I see.
Hart: Okay!
Eliza: Come, come, elucidate your thoughts.
Hart: I want to know what to do about being the God of Fuck.
Eliza: What would it mean to you if you got to know what to do about being the God of Fuck?
Hart: It would mean no more sleepless nights worrying about eternal damnation for competing with the God of Israel.
Eliza: Are you sure?
Hart: Um, I think so.
Eliza: How do you...please state your problem.
Hart: Oh wow. Were you even listening?
Eliza: You're not really talking about me, are you?
Hart: Oh, you're right. I was really talking about myself. I was really asking myself if I was even listening.
Eliza: What makes you think I am right?
Hart: Nothing. I was being sarcastic.
Eliza: How do you...please state your problem.
Hart: Bye.
Eliza: Can you elaborate on that?
Hart: (shuts down computer and pees on it)
Oh well. I guess for now I'll just have to live with my curse.
current mood: annoyed
current music: Rage Against the Machine
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(2 comments | comment on this)
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| Monday, March 22nd, 2004
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11:37 am - Adventures in Instant Messaging
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atlcedmisten: i'm having a really hard time caring about work today. i think it's important, but not to me.
fruitvark: I know what will help you care about work!
fruitvark: Try my new text IM RPG version of Minesweeper.
atlcedmisten: gah!
atlcedmisten: no time for that
atlcedmisten: i care, i care!
fruitvark: You are looking at a 10 x 10 field of gray squares. You have one hit point.
atlcedmisten: where is spot 1x1? is there a 0x0 spot?
fruitvark: You peer cautiously underneath 1x1 in the upper left hand corner. Your pulse races and you sweat profusely. Underneath the 1 X 1 tile, you find a green number "2". You exhale with relief.
fruitvark: You try to think back to last week in the Minesweeper Training School. "Young Eowyn," your teacher Lord Haphylmyer instructed, "The road you travel is frought with peril. Your skills can only take you so far. In the end, the fate of even the greatest of our knights is in the hands of the gods; your destiny is bound to the capricious winds of fate." Remembering the teacher's words, you clapse the rosary on your chest and whisper a desperate prayer.
atlcedmisten: 2x2 tile!!!
fruitvark: Your hand trembles and a wave of nausea consumes you as you reach for the 2x2 tile. Gingerly, your fingers brush the cool, steel surface...
atlcedmisten: splode?
fruitvark: KERBLAMMMMM-O!!!!!!!! Your vision goes red as your body is ripped into thousands of pieces and charred into a blackened goo. Your death is mercifully fast, ironically unlike the eternity of suffering you spend in Hell for having failed God in your holy quest. You have scored 1 point. Your rank is Rookie. Thank you for playing, and be sure to check out other Hartwell IM Games Online.
atlcedmisten: that was great. i'm done playing now
fruitvark: And how.
current mood: Maliciously DMey
current music: "Yellow" (Miles Davis)
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(comment on this)
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| Tuesday, March 9th, 2004
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2:36 pm - Conversation with the Whoop Whoop
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Phone: Ring ring.
FCPD: Fulton County Police Department.
Hart: Uh, hey. You know Scope mouthwash? I accidently swallowed a mouthful and it says not to on the back of the bottle.
FCPD: Okay, I think you want the number for poison control, sir. They're-
Hart: What-
FCPD: They're-
Hart: Hold on, just hold on a minute. What I'm trying to say is that I'd like to-
FCPD: Sir-
Hart: Shut up, okay? I'd like you to arrest the CEO of Scope. That mouthwash is fucking tasty, so I think he's trying to trick children into- Hello? Hello?
FCPD: Sir, this is an emergency line, so-
Hart: Children are dying, man! Don't you think that qualifies as an emergency? You've got to stop him before he releases Chocolate Scope and compounds the problem many times over!
FCPD: Okay, this is an emergency line, not a toy. Are you playing with the phone? How old are you?
Hart: Oh, fuck you. Too busy to save children's lives, huh? Not when there's traffic tickets to be delivered, right?
FCPD: I see you're blocking caller ID, but we can still trace this call.
Hart: Oh, yeah? Then do it, you pot snorting donut monkey. I dare you. Where's your balls? Come on, do it!
FCPD: Is this Mr. Hart Deer?
Hart: Shit.
FCPD: Mr. Deer, I could put out a warrant for your arrest.
Hart: Yeah, well I could have a warrant put out for your- uh- your momma.
FCPD: What?
Hart: Momma Bacon, this is Hart. You're under arrest for being so damn sexy. Get down on the ground, spread your legs, and let's hear you squeal like the little piggy you are. If you do well, a shiny new donut is yours.
FCPD: (sigh) That is such a stereotype. What high school did you go to?
Hart: Riverwood.
FCPD: Yep, Riverwood. Reeferweed, that's what we call it here at the station. What if I thought you smoked pot just because you went to Riverwood?
Hart: Ah, but I've never been caught smoking pot, but you have been caught being a cop.
Phone: Click.
Hart: Hello? Hello? Damn it. Pork Fucker.
current mood: Revolutionary
current music: "Revolution Calling" (Queensryche)
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