fridgepunk: a subtle reference to the impregnantion of Horse!Loki in norse mythology (Viking Mpreg)
From the amazon description for Jessica Vane's Three Way By The Sea:

Jerry is an oceanographer, insecure despite good looks and a successful career. Coming back to shore after a research expedition, he's nursing a new crush on intern Kyle and an old one on hunky Harbormaster Ron. But beneath the full moon, Ron and Kyle reveal their own secret. Will these frisky were-dolphins add Jerry to their perverse pod?
fridgepunk: A sign on garrus' back reading "Shoot a rocket into my ugly stupid face" (Pony Jerusalem)
Haven't seen anyone talking about this, so what did everyone think of the opening ceremony? I felt that the celebration of the US healthcare system, with the showgirls dressed as nurses beating money out of human shaped pinãtas onto immaculately clean hospital beds underneath, was very inspiring.
fridgepunk: A sign on garrus' back reading "Shoot a rocket into my ugly stupid face" (Pony Jerusalem)
One of the more interesting facets of the current american election cycle is just how little enthusiasm the vast inhuman republican party machine has for its designated candidate.

It adds a certain ludicrousness to events, especially when that negatively enthused inhuman party machine has to produce pro-romney guff. And remember that there are literally employment contracts that legally require the various human vacuum tubes in the republican political machine to fluff Romney.

Which I assume is why someone writes nonsense like this:

It is a curious scientific fact (explained in evolutionary biology by the Trivers-Willard hypothesis — Willard, notice) that high-status animals tend to have more male offspring than female offspring, which holds true across many species, from red deer to mink to Homo sap. The offspring of rich families are statistically biased in favor of sons — the children of the general population are 51 percent male and 49 percent female, but the children of the Forbes billionaire list are 60 percent male. Have a gander at that Romney family picture: five sons, zero daughters. Romney has 18 grandchildren, and they exceed a 2:1 ratio of grandsons to granddaughters (13:5). When they go to church at their summer-vacation home, the Romney clan makes up a third of the congregation. He is basically a tribal chieftain.

I've skipped over the bits where the writer, in a rather convoluted attempt to deny the existence of granny shaggers, explicitly calls Mitt Romney a bishop. Because wut.

But the evo-psychical bit was what caught my eye. For those who don't know, the Trivers-Willard hypothesis is the one that runs from the observation that red deer does in "good condition" (read: better fed/lower parasite load than their peers, which in some species thereby donates the higher social status of the animal) tend to give birth to disproportionately more male offspring than female – a fact that then leads to a supposition that this is an evolved trait, wherein successful mothers essentially zerg rush their genes across the local population via male offspring, who can obviously get multiple partners pregnant while female mammals experience a reproductive bottle neck due to the biological fact of pregnancy.

The trouble of course in applying all this to humans, especially to a human who believes that all sexual relationships should happen within marriages and also that marriage is naturally and normally only between one man and one woman, is of course the issue of gender.

Note that in my explanation of the Trivers-Willard Hypothesis, I've talked in terms of male and female animals while the vacuum-tube is instead rather coy about specifying the sex of the "high status" animals who give birth preferentially to male children... because obviously it's female animals that actually provide evidence for the Trivers-Willard Hypothesis, in large part because zoologists have a hard time verifying the paternity of animals while the maternity is obvious. But so married to his weird attempt to gve "scientific" support for this notion that Mitt Romney possesses superlatively manly virility, that not only do we get this weird sexless discussion of breeding patterns when the sexes of the breeders in question matters quite a lot, but that this all then leads into an assertion that Mitt Romney, in some Kronar-esque (nsfw) fashion, has given birth to 5 sons.

The slight problem is that, as with any other attempt by republican pundits to find a criteria by which to judge Romney and find him acceptable to vote for (not an easy task when core republican voters are fundamentalist protestants and their candidate is a wooden mormon), you hit the snag that there is always someone nearby who better fits whatever criteria you try to make Mittens Romney fit, with left-conservatism or mormonism it was Huntsman, with business history and sheer unashamed "I am a rich man and that's great"-titude it was Herman Cain, for woman hating funditarianism it was Santorum, for "generic republican candidate"-titude it was Perry, for political experience it was Bachmann, and for reproductive and sheer Boss-dominance it is of course Ann Romney.

Because remember; The logic here is that the number of male children = dominance BECAUSE, evopsych says that dominant females give birth to more male offspring, and remembering from evolutionary biology 101 that male offspring are ultimately nothing but competition for their still fertile fathers, evopsych logic dictates that male doms should produce more female offspring if they had control of sex ratio. However, as the female of the species is the one detirmining the sex of the offspring, and as the social position of the mother is what ultimately detirmines the sex ratio of offspring, the only mechanism by which fathers could affect the sex ratio is to so thoroughly dominate their female mates that they actually cause their mates to experience a loss in social standing that makes them preferentially produce girls.*

Which leads us to my main counter-point to the vacuum tube's piece:

Ann Romney is the Alpha Mammal of the Romney household and Mitt Romney is her omega bitch.

Now there's no actual proof for that point, but it's a scientific fact. This means however that no woman would ever vote for Mitt Romney, for as evopsych emeritas John Norman makes clear; women need to be dominated by males and find submissive/socially inferior males detestable.

Obama by contrast, with his all female progeny, is clearly the alpha male of not just the Obama household, but also the United States of America (and clearly is stealing Michelle's food).

But the evopsych logic doesn't stop there, oh no no, for you see, Ann Romney has had FIVE male offspring, and as five is a larger number than two (at least until Sarah Palin becomes president in 2016), this means that if Ann Romney were to run for president, she is mathematically guarunteed to be so superior to Obama as to have an actual chance at winning if the criteria that determined presidential elections were in fact intrarelationship dominance, unlike her wimpy husband, who I feel I have shown will, scientifically speaking, find himself compelled by his weak biology to phone Obama up come november and submissively urinating on himself over the phone as his way of accepting defeat.

* at this point I need to step out of "character" here and make it clear that while that line of reasoning does seem to provide an evopsych reason for guys being negging jerks to women (even if it actually argues against the whole "women prefer jerks" thing), the problem is that the Trivers-Willard hypothesis runs from the "condition" of the breeders rather than the "status", condition just correlates closely enough with status in some species that you can conflate the two if you particularly want to be sloppy, like I in fact do in this instance. Evopsych logic means that, in reality, if the trivers-willard hypothesis was a major detirminant of human psycho-sexual issues we'd actually see both men and women innately attracted to parasite infested starving waifs with no teeth. SO MY FETISHES ARE EXPLAINED AND EVERYONE ELSE IS THE WEIRDO Y'HEAR *gets back to masturbating to medical reports of people with consumption*
fridgepunk: A sign on garrus' back reading "Shoot a rocket into my ugly stupid face" (Default)
So after discussions about Lawrence Durrell in James Nicoll's LJ (Warning: Rape triggery) I decided to pick up a copy of the Alexandrian Quartet, on the grounds that the author is dead and that therefore all proceeds must go to their much abused inheritors and the somewhat less abused publishers.

Ahem, I know this will mark me forever as the very definition of a philistine, and indeed not only do I have no soul, if I did have a soul it would contain no poetry, but if I may summarise my initial thoughts upon starting to read Justine:

Oh Em Gee guys, Oh Em Gee.

Not becuase I like it but because... well it's easier to show than tell here really, take this for examples:

Capitally, what is this city of ours? What is resumed in the word Alexandria?

Right here I have my first problem; wtf actual language is this? I might have let the "Capitally" go, sort of just assume it's a weird variant of "Hullo!"; it occurs at the end of a longer string of paragraphs that are seperated from this bit from a line break immediately above it, and overall gives the impression as though the narrator is mildly surprised that the reader is still reading at this point, a mere 5 paragraphs in, and suddenly realises he has to actually tell a story.

But "resumed in the word Alexandria?" Really? English: it does not work like that.

So already I'm off to a bad start before I've turned the first proper page of the book, and there's guzillions more pages to go!

Of course then I have the second problem with the book, which is that Durrell never says where Alexandria is aside from mentions of "the orient", which due to my having the geographical knowledge and wisdom of an inverted cat led me to guess that it was in Turkey... a quick google corrected this... and led me to ask the unfortunate question of "what effect would it have on my reading of the text if I read this book assuming that the "Alexendria" that plays a central role in this book is in fact Alexandria in West Dumbartonshire, Scotland?" Alexandria, Scotland being a small town I once got lost through (long story), whos economy seems to be based entirely around old moanied people and middle aged poor people, both lots of whom dress in their own particular quasi-tribal way all year round to ensure that regardless of what time of year it is half the population is nonetheless inappropriately dressed for the weather.

In that context I gift you the next dodgy Block O'Text from Durrell:

The Orient cannot rejoice in the sweet anarchy of the body — for it has outstripped the body. I remember Nessim once saying — I think he was quoting — that Alexandria was the great winepress of love; those who emerged from it were the sick men, the solitaries, the prophets — I mean all who have been deeply wounded in their sex.

Now in Durrell's defense, this was written in 1957, when genital surgery was still in its infancy and so deeply wounded sexes were a more permanant problem than they would be today.

And no the book is not about intersex people nor anything to do with transsexuality or transgenderism either; this book transgressed social norms of sex and sexuality of its day but not too much (it's very much like Fifty Shades of Grey in that respect; neopolitan kink that is really just vanilla with some trace amounts of chocolate and raspberry off to the side, who's trace still manages to stick in the theoretical craw of hypothetical grey men in suits)

But here is my problem in a nutshell: the book is an almost never ending series of straight lines like that one about wounded sexes, And all of these faintly Carry On grade puns goes on with, in my head at least, the background of the grey high streets populated by the tartan shopping bagged grannies and buckfast swilling middle aged heroine addicts that very much define the small scottish town, all of which pops to mind whenever the narrative says "Alexandria", which it does constantly. All of which is then made worse by the words being employed producing alternative readings from the intended one, but readings where the "alternative" actually reads more naturally because you can't simultaneously use a verb as a noun because neither nerbs nor vouns exist in the english language goddamit!

So this is going to be one of those slogs for me, like Neuromancer was, the difference is that while Neuromancer was just badly written this is well written but in a way that at every step trips over the trailing untied shoelaces of its own pretentiousness and falls arse over tits with its skirt around its head and its knickers flapping in the breeze. That bit with the "Capital" and the "resume"? Kinda happened a third time on the same page with an obscure word for "fodder", contrast these two sentences:

The sexual fodder which lies to hand is staggering in its variety and profusion.


The sexual provender which lies to hand is staggering in its variety and profusion.

Note that I've changed what I consider to be the offending word, and note also that the overall tone or feel of the sentence changes fuck all from one version to the next, the only thing that maybe is of note is that by using an obscure term for fodder he's sort of coyly masking the harshness of the term... except that provender is literally a kind of fodder, nothing more or less so... it's not masked at all so...

At which point it ceases being a lyrical artifice or literary quirk and become a case where Durrell's clearly dropped his chair and whip and now his theosaurus is loose about the page, running amok, performing grateful dead length guitar solos and using words that have hyper-obscure tertiary – or sometimes even primary! – meanings, not because they suit the context or rhythm of the sentence (i.e. not because they're necessary) as far as I can see but just so an obscure meaning can be employed for the sake of employing it. And I expect better theosaurusical discipline from my high literary netorare pr0nz, dagnabbit!

And note that these literary guitar solos have happened three times on the first page! And in one case he starts throwing nerbs about! Neeeeerrrrrbs! Oy vey.

If this continues I'll have to start mst3king it here, because if I have to suffer, EVERYONE has to suffer moohaha.

NOTE: I do not begrudge anyone else liking the books, being able to find joy in something = good (except Neuromancer, fuck that book)
fridgepunk: A sign on garrus' back reading "Shoot a rocket into my ugly stupid face" (Default)
Stuff like this essay on The West Wing writer Aaron Sorkin's new telly-prog is largely why I have a soft spot for Warren Ellis:

But, as a middle-aged white man, I take issue with the notion that it takes a Great White Man to fix the culture, and that shitting on every woman in the room to do it is just quirky, grumpy collateral damage. I’m pretty sure that’s been tried, over here in the real world. And here we are.

Go read the whole thing as well as the interview with Sorkin by Sarah Nicole Prickett (Globe&Mail comments: abandon all hope etc...etc... but it's a great article beyond merely the Sorkin interview bit), where he spends the entire thing lurching wildly from being pre-emptively defensive about a project I think everyone kinda hoped would be good and openly patronising and talking down to the interviewer and her shockingly post-modern lack of testicles, which pretty effectively torpedoes any hope that America was about to produce a show that could step into the long emptied shoes of satirical news sitcom Drop the Dead Donkey.

Which to be fair was in and of itself a forlorn hope at the mention that it was going to go the alt history topical news route, as DtDD went with the afaik still unreplicated feat of building the "News" background of each episode around events that had happened during the week immediately prior to that particular episode aired – though that would have meant that the show couldn't cheat and that it had to have opinions, which US shows can't really do lest it cause Teh Outrages from conservative viewers (which thereby forbids pretty much anything that isn't rape for some reason, bearing in mind that Sesame Street was at one point during the 70s banned in The South because it upset the same conservatives by daring to have a black man in a position of authority over muppets).

Of course if it had been topical it also couldn't have EVERY episode be a didactic rant about how to properly cover $DEEPLY_SERIOUS_EVENT... because then it'd have to address the main reason why 24 news is so shockingly bad; i.e. that the quality of the newsroom behind the cameras and the people in front of them is largely due to the 24hours being forced by their format to hire people because they're very good at spinning a woman who dumped a cat in a recycling bin into something that can fill 24 hours a day worth of rolling news coverage with, because that is basically the bulk of their programming. And then these poor idiots who get hired behind the cameras have to try their best, given no one in the newsroom with the appropriate experience or knowledge set becuase they all were either fired becuase they wanted to be paid in money or left because the 24hours' work ethos sucks on toast, to find a way for these vapid news-douches to report about the occasional war that happens in a region that no one at the 24hours has heard of nor knows anything about, during the fleeting moments when actual news occurs.

Modern News is dull turds polished to a shine with the occasional golden nugget that was supposed to justify the whole thing but which poor reportage from the turd polishers renders more shitty than the actual turds.

That's before I point out that this whole Great Man myth is what Piers Morgan believes in as well, is in fact what he belives to be reality as performed by himself as the Great Man – really; when he was harassing celebrities or stalking grieving relatives or engaging in insider trading or trying to cash in on the coalition torture scandals or calling all the models too thin and all the actresses too fat, he thought that he was genuinely doing journalism properly, doing it the right way, the News of the World way, unlike those commies in the guardian or those sycophants at the Times. Sorkin's Newsroom is thus not merely an alternate history show, but is in fact a weird psychedelic trip into an alternate dimension that only Piers Morgan is normally able to contact, where all his delusions are true and he was always able to know ahead of time important facts about a story that allow him to tell it all the Right Way.

What if Piers Morgan is right?

What if Piers Morgan was American all along just like a real boy?

Only Sorkins is the Great Man capable of asking such hard hitting questions and then answering them within the context of a fictional world of his own creation.
fridgepunk: (Laughing Man)
I have a slightly morbid fetish for military technology pr0n.

Well not the actual miltech porn pr0n, but the mess load of drone news items that is what techie-nerds obsess a lot about these days, wiki pages on missiles and guns and the training of the odder little special forces groups beyond the boots and shootas shenanigans of the SAS or SEAL team sex, like the british Special Reconnaissance Regiment who's job is basically to stalk and identify potential "targets" for other special forces units or police, and who's training seems to involve sneaky photography, small arms fighting, "use of a vehicle as a weapon" and other facets of what I can only accurately describe as Advanced Car Chase Training (the course module on "driving through inexplicable piles of cardboard boxes" is apparently the funnest).

It's oddly fascinating to me because miltech pr0n like this is an example of what you'd get if there was an active and steering intelligent designer (or in the case of most of the nutters who come up with things like armouring a car almost everywhere, with the "almost" referring to deliberately unarmoured areas that exist so that people on the inside can return fire through the car, "almost intelligent" is probably a better term) operating over any sort of prolonged period – just this sort of hyper-funcitonality, where even aesthetic considerations ultimately can only exist for any length of time as either camouflage to hide deeply functional elements or some ergonomic spandrel.

Of course it was while doing this wallowing in morbid militarism, especially as I moved from issues of technology, which are shaped by issues of human biomechanics and physics, to the more sociological end of things; the training and methodological approaches adopted by these security organs. It was then that I started to note a similarity in resulting behaviour and mindset of the security agencies, specifically a similarity to the symptomology of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder: the blunting of effect, the hypervigilance, the propensity to violent and angry overreaction often coupled to what basically amounts to sociological avoidance behaviour. That tendency to view with alarm groups or materials or activities that were related or involved in previous "traumatic" events regardless of whether that avoidance behaviour actually helps or even if it interferes with society's normal function such as airport security theatre or, spreading almost beyond the security industrial complex, austerity measures in response to the eurocrisis and global recession.

This is a Post-Traumatic Society Disorder that we live in then, with the further complication that in the form of the munchhausen-oppressed religious groups who claim oppression when their various hateful and harmful avoidance strategies aren't implemented and the Daily Mail and the FOX media empire you have, as it were, trauma engines – hyper-vigilance organs that sense all the things we do and then digest them until they turn brown and scary, ever justifying it all with their phantom traumas mainly arising from the newer and harsher avoidance strategies.

Of course it's with these thoughts in my mind that I then stumble across a concept like Affective Computing from the wikipedia page on surveillance, and you start to see an odd creature indeed – Because the security application for a machine that can identify human emotions is obvious; to be hypervigilant to a degree beyond that capable of humans who, even with the PTSD pushing them to view with alarm beyond what might otherwise be sensible, still feel things and can still sympathise with people or be tricked by tricky truths about why they were frowning in the airport's mandatory smiles zone. For the Affective Surveillance machine doesn't feel sympathy or recognise joy or love or know worry brought about by human social interactions or neurosis, it merely recognises threats, and in response screams; a warning klaxon alerting its inferior multiaffective meatbag to view with alarm THIS person or group or item.

In short, we're building the first artificial intelligences to feel not love or joy or to have friendly or associative bonds with humans, we're building them to fear, on our behalf, and programming them to fear the Other, not so we don't have to, but so we can experience augmented fear, hyper-real racial terrors that only an intelligence that has been built around the unending trauma, and who isn't so much suffering from blunted affect as absent of affect when it comes to anything but fear and threat, as we build robotic version of the little boy of the Craków Pogrom, who runs to the proverbial market yelling about the jews trying to kill him when he gets caught throwing rocks at the synagogue. It creates fear which it feels and then spits out at the potential threatoids it stares at all day, caught in the trauma loop it was built from the ground up to inhabit and facilitate.
fridgepunk: (Exoticising the otter)
I know I know, jumping on a sucky ass bandwagon that's gotten totally out of control, so let me caveat this:

The "outrage" and "controversy" over the mass effect 3 endings is bullshit - it's a reasonably decent game to be honest, yes the endings suck, especially as they're chosen in a "you beat the last boss, and then you have three buttons, each of which starts a particular end game sequence" move that is bad game design...but this is bioware, who's endings always suck (Hell, System Shock 2 had a sucky ending.

You see, bioware made its name as a gaming company who basically created the best villain in computer game history, SHODAN, who was a precursor to GlAdOS, who starred in two games before bioware abandoned that property forever because it was good. And that's pretty much what Bioware can generally do well; Characters.

And Mass Effect 3 provides that and pretty much nothing else but that, honestly, so though the endings suck the game leading up to those? Not bad, 3 provides those wonderful character moments and that's basically what Mass Effect games are all about, because it's otherwise a rather boring game where you spend most of the thing hiding behind walls, occasionally shooting at things until you can move to another wall and start shooting things again. And the endings to the previous 2 games was also linear as fuck.

So I was thinking aimlessly, if I had to come up with a good ending, or several good endings, for Mass Effect 3, one(s) that would not only work and provide players the sense of choosing the ending in a non-bullshit fashion, but also be able to achieve the seemingly impossible: Satisfy the whiney, entitled manchildren that started all the wank over the mass effect 3 endings, what would those endings be?

But to answer that question, one has to think about writing and endings to stories in general a bit more than Bioware bothers to. (maybe there is also spoilers) Read more... )
fridgepunk: A sign on garrus' back reading "Shoot a rocket into my ugly stupid face" (Default)

As a general note: for those who haven't seen the actual newsnight bit, the bit where he uses slang terms and says "innit" and "blud" while looking down at something in his hand is from the moment when he whipped out a transcript of a txt message(!) that was inexplicably quoted during one of the looter trials and proceeded to do a dramatic phonetic reading of something written in txting shorthand(!!) – to prove the point that the riots were all the inevitable result of white people speaking in a "jamaican patois"(!!!)* rather than right proper like what True Englishmen spoke like before all them darkies came over with their weird loan words and impenetrable accents.

On an unrelated note, here's a clip from QI in which Stephen Fry is defeated by a Geordie accent:

And here's Sanjeev Baskhar's wonderful rant and dramatic poetry reading attacking silent letters on Room 101:

One does wonder how someone both rants about how shorthands are dooming civilisation because they lead to people not spelling English words in a suitably thorough and phonetic fashion(!!!!), AND somehow gets a Phd in History without ever once coming across the socio-historical context out of which various medieval monastic shorthands wormed their way into modern english usage.

Chi-Mas motherfucker, do you celebrate it?

* There's an additional irony in what starkey was saying regarding "Jamaican patois" that might be lost on some non-londoners, but basically as any londoner who either possesses Jamaican or Caribbean family or has friends who have family in the Caribbean will attest, any visit to Caribbean relatives by someone raised in london will feature a moment where the relatives raised in the Caribbean will mock the londoner for using the term "innit" because no one in the Caribbean uses that term.
fridgepunk: A sign on garrus' back reading "Shoot a rocket into my ugly stupid face" (Default)

I think it's the little tennant head flick when he's emphasising a word that makes it.
fridgepunk: cat plays with cord of an iron while sitting on an ironing board (Irony)

(doesn't he look young!? Christ, those tory spank-dungeons seem to have been really taking their toll on the poor ickle libertarian blighter)
fridgepunk: (Laughing Man)
...I'd accidentally started on this random urban fantasy novel ("accidentally" and "random" in the sense that I've been kinda busy and trying to squeeze in some pony fics just to keep myself writing regularly BUT THEN I went and wrote a few thousand words of first chapter: wtf brain?!?) which has this weird as fuck metaphysics underpinning it (I think my brain just flat out went "okay, all that Unknown Armies stuff from years back? And all those deconstructive thoughts you've had while reading the Dresden file books? Fucking move that all out of here so I can make room for new stuff NAOW" I await those killer swarms of featuses working themselves into this somehow).

Which was when two great ideas slammed together, which were:

1) Thriller is awesome, and obviously the modern uniform of a necromancer would be the red and black leather thriller jacket/trouser combo (and the thriller dance would make a good calibrative test of the necromancer's control of his undead minions.

2) Hey why don't I have the final battle be between the white supremacist guy at the head of an army of racist zombies (skin heads and black shirts and teddy boys oh my!) dredged from the depths of London's history of interracial conflict, and the "wicked" "witch of the north" donning the thriller jacket and dancing up a spectral army of every normal person who got killed by the sort of bastards on the other side?

Which meant that I had a very simple to write sequence in which an an ethnic female british and NOT FUCKING STUPID version of harry dresden defeats racism by doing the thriller dance – with the key to this sequence being that the dancing and descriptions of the physical and spiritual manifestations of the vast magical powers being wielded is interspersed with what amounts to an African-American History essay regarding the social-racial-political context surrounding Micheal Jackson's early rise to stardom as a pop rather R&B or Soul musician (though We'll see if I don't truncate it the fuck down into something far less deep than I'm making it sound when I get round to editing it into the bulk of the novel itself).

So I went to youtube to start rewatching the Thriller video to get the steps of the actual dance right and the pacing and structure of it all...

...did it always have a bit at the beginning where two black people are totally drssed in the universally recognizable uniform of the preppy white teenagers from a cheezy all white 50's B-Movie?

Damn, I thought I was totally stretching the extent to which racial politics was present in the video quite a bit to make it into this weird magico-racial fulcrum/focus for this scene. But nope, apparently there was more than enough there in the source material all along, quite explicitly so in fact.
fridgepunk: A sign on garrus' back reading "Shoot a rocket into my ugly stupid face" (Default)
Keith Mander claimed that he had family obligations, and that those obligations were why he's not responding to any of the criticism he got over destroying a fanfic site or two with his half-witted avarice.

Turns out that his Family Obligations? A holiday in Thailand.
fridgepunk: A sign on garrus' back reading "Shoot a rocket into my ugly stupid face" (Default)
Son, I am disappoint.

Once upon a time you chose "don't be evil" as the motto for you hegemonizing corporate swarm, and we laughed and fell in love with you a little, felt that you were a useful check and balance against your fellow hegemonizing corporate swarm Microsoft. Because we thought you got the joke with us, that when we talk about Microsoft being "evil" we really meant that M$ is fucking stupid: IE was a creature borne of a belief that building a working web browser was less important than just building a web browser as quickly as possible with as little aforethought as you could get away with, leading to a program that was the software equivalent of just smashing your hard drive with a big rock.

It's stupidity that was the problem, the same goes for Clippy and Microsoft Bob, the memory creep problem in XP, every little annoying and pointless pop up warning, every click through needed to even see the contents of our hard drives, and the eldritch abomination spoken of by that furious arab Abdul Alhazred in the Necronomicon as "VISTA". Stupid stupid and stupid again were each and every mistake, and suffice to say that with enough of these stupid moments, the average windows user started to take the little stupidities that M$ threw at us personally, started to view them as "evil".

And in a way the reason why we thought you got the whole evil/stupid dichotomy was because for the most part your products have been well made, the algorithms generally well thought out; the code efficient.

Except there's been quite large holes in that perception of late – there's the mild annoyance that you've shifted to a policy of having google giving the results for the more commonly used spelling for a term, rather than the original system for error correction where you'd show me the results for what I actually typed and give me a single quite click away from a possibly more likely term – which might sometimes be the correct spelling for what I meant to type, but often wasn't.

This is stupid.

Then we had the Google Buzz fiasco, where you had this preconceived notion of how people would want to use an existing service which they used in a very specific way. And the Algorithms involved in that were well made from a strictly technical stand point, the code was still efficient.

But it was stupid.

Now we have this G+ bullshit. Not just the mass deletion of people's G+ account AND the various other bits of Google related cloud services, but shit like Warren Ellis complains about here regarding the automatic importing of new contacts when you set up a new account. All the problems involved this time are the result of complex and technically well written algorithms and coding that (like with Buzz and the googel searches) you've implemented in G+ in an effort to (like Microsoft Bob) make using your products "easier".

But it's really really stupid, and it's precisely the same sort of stupid that cropped up the last couple of times as well, and that stupidity is specifically this:

You are good at writing algorithms, you are a genius at coding, but Google; you don't seem to get that your algorithms and code are far too stupid to ever grasp the vexities and complexities of the human heart.

After all, what would a mere algorithm know about the love of a parent for their child which, in their postpartum glow, leads to them giving their children weird names like Moonshine Sparkle Bunny or William Shatner? What would a code, no matter how sublimely written and free segfaults, know of the angst and pathos of affection turned sour and the hate and recriminations that can lay between seperated couples? How many of the databases underpinning your cloud operations ever even kissed a woman? I would bet none of them.

Google, to keep to your motto, you have to understand that it's not merely enough to be "not evil", it's not enough to be full conversant with current versions of java, python, XML and CSS sheets:

You must also be smart enough to be fully fluent in the scripting language of the human heart; aware of the all too human foibles and multi-faceted yearnings that make us who and what we are rather than the limited spread sheet boxes that you wish to fit us into, and smart enough to realise that we can never be anything else but what are, and will never fit into the algorithmically simple boxes you have constructed for us.

And until you understand that, you will be both stupid and evil and your hegemony will continue to be limited, because without love you cannot grasp the magic of friendship which allows us to act as groups and become greater than the mere sum of our parts.

Welp, looks like I'm running out of room, Best wishes to you and the subsidaries, yours Sincerely,



26 July 2011 08:03 am
fridgepunk: A sign on garrus' back reading "Shoot a rocket into my ugly stupid face" (Default)
- Livejournal is down apparently ONLY FOR ME, maybe it's a UK thing, but it's been down for more than a day now. Ignore that, Livejournal managed to find some yarn to replace the string the old women had stolen from their server. Ignore that ignore that, the little old ladies apparently needed some yarn as well as some string.

- there needs to be a Capcom Vs. Marvel style side scrolling fighting game called "BBC Vs. FOX".
imagine the matchups: Paxman Vs. Bill O'Rly, Geraldo Vs. Kate Adie, Victoria Coren Vs. Glenn Beck, Director General of the BBC Vs. Rupert Murdoch. It would be awesome.

- I'm surprised I haven't seen this character concept used: Hipster Ariel as an actual fantasy setting character. She left the ocean because it was too mainstream, but now travels the land in a wheel chair made out of $fantasysetting tech because of her well known views about legs (or possibly she has some problem with morphing spells that would give her legs). Possibly a spellcaster because physics is also too mainstream for her (though she liked Conjugation spells before they became popular) but could also be a silver hoard style barbarian, mowing down other hipsters with her spikey war-chair.
fridgepunk: A sign on garrus' back reading "Shoot a rocket into my ugly stupid face" (Default)
Shorter Keith "SaruMander" Mander:

Little fanfic, who made thee?
Does thou know who made thee,
Gave thee life, and bid thee read
By the archive and o’er the feed;
Gave thee shipping of delight,
hobbit shipping, wooly, bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice?
Little fanfic, can I buy thee?
I would like to monetize thee?

Unfortunately fandom's response was not supportive, even after he explained that he was a decent guy!

I do love fandom sometimes. NEVER CHANGE (unless it is into a collection of accurately coloured pony toys)

So to further rip William Blake a new one:

Fandom fandom. Burning bright,
On the servers of the night;
What immortal hand or eye.
Could pay thy fearful server costs?

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine ships?
To what kink dare they aspire?
What the hand, dare fap the fire?

And what fic, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat.
What dread baby hand? & what dread feet?

What the whip? what the chain,
In what gutter was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp.
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

When the stars threw down their keyboards
And water'd comments with their tears:
Did they smile their work to see?
Did they who made the fanfic make thee?

Fandom fandom burning bright.
On the servers of the night:
What immortal hand or eye.
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Little really needs to be said about the wank proper.

However.Read more... )
TL;DR: BMArse Turing-test-failing-motherfucks can lick my delicate feminine ballsack. ALSO: I am more angry about this than I thought I was.
fridgepunk: A sign on garrus' back reading "Shoot a rocket into my ugly stupid face" (Default)
Jumping off the back of [personal profile] lizbee's post about the events of Day of the Moon here (which contains spoilers, it should also be pointed out that cut for spoilers for When a Good Man Goes to War and for the first two episodes of the sixth series )

Of course this will never get mentioned on the show because the two golden rules of Doctor Who are:

1) At the end of a story the monster is always defeated and

2) What happens in a space suit, stays in the space suit.
fridgepunk: (KITTENSES!!!)


SLAVES TO CELESTIA: MY LITTLE FORTRESS (warning for tangential discussions about the correct pluralisation of "pegasus")


fridgepunk: A sign on garrus' back reading "Shoot a rocket into my ugly stupid face" (Default)
A quick check of the relevant dates involved means that it's physically impossible for the (currently nameless) maid/housekeeper involved in Doctor Who's Interspecies Victorian Lesbian Crime Fighting Duo (or IVLCFD for short) to be a younger version of Mrs. Hudson from before she came to own the flats that Holmes & Watson eventually meet/live in, because Mrs. Hudson lets her flat out to watson the year before Jack the Ripper was stalking the streets of whitechapel.

But it was such good fanon! Poot.

cut for spoilers from When a Good Man does something... that new Who Episode )

(though everyone who's incorporating that twist into canon to explain past behaviour of various characters, you are all awesome and your proofs seem sound)
fridgepunk: a subtle reference to the impregnantion of Horse!Loki in norse mythology (Viking Mpreg)
Imagine a time when everything is either a stick or a rock, and beyond this you had the spirited (past tense adverbal form of "spirit") critters around you, of which you may or may not be a part of because Pan Narratis, the narrative ape, like its fucking dichotomies due to a genetical tendency to wander into open fields with sticky-uppy erections during thunder storms.

The English have been fucking animals since time began, since probably the moment when the great unfuckable object of the wooly mammoths finally died backed and the omnifucking force of paleolithic humanity was finally able to sweep across the anglo-french landbridge of doom, set foot upon this green and sceptered isle one warm winter evening, and were finally able to stick a heron's beak up their arse without being tusked to death by hairy 8-ton puritan mammoth cockblockers.

Here's what we know:

We know that the paleolithic (means "ancient stone tool using period" or some such – we're the early to mid-paleoelectronic in the context of any future archeologists reading this *waves*) had stone dildos, not the fearsome ginormous things that most of the news stories depict them to be actually, slightly smaller in size than most contemporary pocket sized vibrators when you see them in the context of someone's hand rather than zoomed the fuck in (Teh News seems to have hit some "Lithotechnological Dildos: Threat or Menace" Semantic-Brainfart angle when processing and displaying pictures of the damn thing).


Though who knows, time and mechanical force might have reduced them somewhat in size over time. After all I've yet to see the damn things put into a socio-cultural context – were they for personal use only or were they handed down from mother to daughter or around the village and The Communal Dildo of The Spirit Trees on the Planes of O? And thus given to being at least vaginally weathered over many generations, like those ancient stone diases and thrones that have been in use for so long as the literal seat of power for so many empires that the arsemarks of literally countless pharaohic dynasties have worn themsleves deep into their surfaces?

How big were the stone-wangs to begin with? Could they be seen from space? Did Ancient Astronauts Build These Stone-Wangs? (E. Daniken 1975, Twatfinch Press, London)


But think about this: We have dildos, widely accepted cultural artifact right?

Where are the stone fleshlights? Oh, I don't mean proper man portable stone fleshlights (which would pose some major structural and technical difficulties to produce using stone age technology), but where are the "stones that have been carved into something just tight enough that a dick can get some masturbatory rubtion off of the stone cavity"? They probably would have been carved directly into rock faces, and maybe the really fancy ones would have some system so that they could be heated up using hot embers placed inside the vagolith without burning anyone's bell-end.

less sophisticated ones, probably largely in Greece, would have used the body from multiple people using the bloody things to give it a bit of warmth, or in other more practical and less "pain is the great teacher of MEN!!!!! (in bed)" places (and like the Lithodildo) they would have felt their chaps warm enough when the vagolith was filled with boiling hot molten animal fat.

Of course these would face problems that the lithodildo wouldn't face as far as erosion is concerned, being more likely to be left exposed to the elements, and being unable to fall into some nice preservative sedimentary deposit, as well as being next to impossible to find by archeologists unless conveniently located near a major and well preserved cave artist site that some filthy spelunker happens to trip across and tell an archeology department about.

But here's the thing: where in the intervening kilo-millenia (AKA MYa to those in the know) did the fucking fleshlight go? Dildos pop up (sometimes literally) all over later technological epochs, in bronze, iron, steel, wood (medieval europe – yeah, technically an iron working culture but really it was mostly a wood working culture; longbow, halberd, most of the major military technological advances of the past 1000 years in europe have rested on people finding various uses for different kinds of wooden stick where previous and contemporary cultures skipped straight to doing everything in the metal/alloy that defined the period. Asia was a bit like this with bamboo but mostly during periods when complicated metallurgy was restricted in some fashion).

All are various materials used to make dildos over the millenia, but show me the bronze fleshlights of Alexandria! Display to me your wooden vagina of Olde London Towne! You fucking can't, because the thing about technology, like evolutionary, is that while things will be repeatedly redeveloped and recreated over time, NOTHING IS INEVITABLE!

When the Romans came to Scotland they met the bloody picts and immediately freaked out worse than Lovecraft did when he got to New York City and saw some turn of the century interracial porn for the first time! You why? because the Picts wore Trousers, a concept that so boggled the mind of the poor miniskirt wearing roman legionnaires that most plucked their eyes out with their own gladiolas and legged it back towards the channel ASAP.

Skip forward to today and what is the fucking notable element of Scottish national dress? the fucking Kilt! In fact you'd think that with the receding of the roman empire, the trousers would have fallen down around the ankles of the miniskirt wearing blokes of dark age England but instead what we find is that the concept of trousers didn't reenter the mindscape of the british isles until the fucking 17th century! Which is why words like "tights" and "trousers" and indeed the American "pants" are all pluralised, all the concepts began life as individual leg tubes when the concept of individual leg coverings popped up again at the end of the dark ages, and it took until england had beheaded a few kings and reinvented the concept of standing armies before someone got the idea of joining the leg tubes up at the crotch so that everyone's nuts weren't just flapping about any more.

You know the canterbury tales? All those blokes telling tales have their scrotums resting directly on the backs of the donkeys they're riding because no one had thought to actually cover their nadgers up yet in a country that is renowned for being cold and windy.

technological progress, and hence the future because we now think of one as the other these days (though they're fucking not) is not a thing going up, or forward, it's just something that occurs, with no real motive bloody force.

unless you set down and decide to be a motive bloody force for progress. Change is good when the change is good, shut up about your fucking jet pack, put your genitalia away and wash out your fleshlight young man! Make the future move forward, because it's not going to do it on its own

It's 5:30 am and I'm supposed to have been doing something productive and/or sleeping rather than typing stream of conciousnesses (for I have many! One for each lobe of my mighty fractal 4D brain!) and listening to super pony beats on a constant loop.

fridgepunk: Queen Elizabeth X of Great Britain, guns akimbo and with the legend "keep calm and carry on" in white. (Keep Calm)
When the footage of the police violence starts it gets a bit difficult to watch,Embedded vid below cut... )

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