Anyway, last night wasn't so bad. Thankfully Aimee had some leftover Codeine cough syrup from when she was last sick, and that did the trick. I wouldn't say I got a full night's sleep or anything, more like a series of 2-3 hour naps, but at least I slept. I feel much better right now, but I am not giving in to the illusion just yet.
~J(R)
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
incorporealgirl, who I am told discovered this via silhouette1126. The music is great, really catchy with a hint of Outkast (Bombs over Baghdad) and Sesame Street (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12).I had kind of lost heart in the project, that is until now. Inside that envelope was a check for $60.00, my earnings from my shareasale account. I have just made money off the internet! This will breath new life into my internet project, and I think I will also use this as a chance to expand my interests there, make more diverse websites that hit a broader cross sectional audience. And now, with this first check, my status will be upgraded so that I can apply for pay-per-click programs as well, which is where I think the real money is.
Quote of the morning: "Man, if you can become a thousandaire from this, it would be totally worth it."
~J(R)
Arvindh's American Movie Cultural Literacy List:
Star Wars: A New Hope
Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back
Star Wars: Return of the Jedi
Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan
Star Trek: The Undiscovered Country
Raiders of the Lost Arc
American History X
The Breakfast Club
Full Metal Jacket
There Will Be Blood
Sneakers
The Princess Bride
Montey Python's The Holy Grail
The Exorcist
Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy
The Big Lebowski
The Deer Hunter
Animal House
The Outlaw Josey Wales
The Hangover
However, this weekend, the main event was by far my 10-year high school reunion. It was held at the Hotel Valencia on Santana Row. It was a really nice party, and I got to see a lot of old acquaintances along with good friends that I have stayed in touch with over the years. It was interesting to see what people had done with their lives. I feel like a lot of us didn't really live up to our maximum potential, but I also think that that is ok too. I wish more of my graduating class had come, there were definitely a few faces missing that I really wanted to see.
The next day I woke up with a hang-over, and decided it was time to take it easy and maybe work on some projects that would be easy. I went to Orchard Supply and got us some gardening stuff, including a couple of star-jasmine plants because Aimee has been talking about wanting Jasmine in the planter for weeks. I also got some proper potting soil since the dirt currently in the planter . . . well . . . its done. By midday it was too hot to do anything else, so Aimee and I went to the pool to cool off, which was wonderful. We finished up Volume 4 of Heroes, and now eagerly await the newest season. Though I do have to admit that they really fucked things up at the end of this season. We'll see how it pans out.
Ok, back to work for me.
Cheers,
~J(R)
Here's to seeing you there, you know who you are.
Oh yeah, also, I ran into Sabrina last night at the movies . . . quite literally.
Sneaky, sneaky.
~J(R)
~J(R)
So, Saturday I woke up and rolled out of bed (so to speak, actually leaving the bedroom area was not so simple ;-)). Dave and I had made plans to go up to the gun range, so I had to get all my crap together and head up. I love shooting, its fun and keeps me out of trouble for the most part. The only real problem is that I have so many damn guns now, and I'm the only one of my friends who owns any, so when we go up to the range, I'm pretty much hauling my entire "arsenal" with me . . . which is easily 100 lbs of guns and ammo. The ammo is the heavy bit. This time we went to the trap range too, which meant that I brought the 12-gauge with me this trip. Actually, the Los Altos Rod and Gun e-trap range is quite nice, I'll probably go back next time.
Anyway, after a surprisingly long day of shooting, we headed to Jake's for some late lunch and then went to Dave's for an hour's worth of gun cleaning ritual. Good times, good times. I made sure to show Dave the in's and out's of breakdown and cleaning of the 12-gauge, since that's what I see him buying for himself in the near future. Afterwards, I headed home to hang out with Aimee, however, we had some projects to take care of =). We went to my office so that I could move my desk to where my co-worker Ty used to sit . . . bigger-better desk with a window . . . AWESOME! And then after that we went across the street to where I stole one of those huge cable-spools with the intention of using it as a table on our back patio. The thing is massive, and to be sure, looked incredibly silly strapped to the roof of my Pontiac. We made it home, with many other motorists and pedestrians stopping to stare at us along the way, and then carried it into the back yard.
Will update more later . . . there is yet to tell the tale of the duct-tape . . .
~J(R)
right now, I am racing against the clock to get something into my boss by the end of the day, and shit keeps dropping on my doorstep. I just keep putting out one fire at a time.
However, I am really amazed and astonished at the apparent information and cyber-war going on in light of the Iranian protest currently underway. read more here: http://www.cnn.com/2009/TECH/06/18/i
I am going to change my blogging and facebook location status to Iran for the time being, in support of Iranian freedom.
Cheers,
~J(R)
Les Claypool . . . damn brother, you are a fucking nutbag, but we still love you.
~J(R)
Day: 14
Year: 2109 (10 years after Moonrise)
On board the USS DeepOne.
The trip to the former Hawaiian Island chain has been arduous. Its taken us far longer to navigate there then I would have assumed. The distance from Alcatraz to Hilo, Hawaii is roughly 3,700 km, which at a whopping top sped on our ship of 20 knots above board, and less than 8 knots submerged should have taken us a week or so to reach our destination. However, two things hindered our path: 1) Our cruising speed was reduced due to an engineering failure, and 2) I did not anticipate having to navigate a mass of floating hulks in the middle of the pacific ocean. Apparently there is something of a natural flotilla occuring in the Pacific currents, where the still floating but wholly inoperable ships destroyed during moonrise have co-mingled and gotten caught in the somewhat circular currents that travel south from Alaska towards South America, West across the equatorial zone, and then North past Indonesia and Japan where the cycle begins again. To think, this mass of ships has been collecting over the past ten years and circumnavigating the Pacific Ocean all on their own is somewhat miraculous, but indeed a danger to me and my crew. As we were heading to the Hawaiian Island Chain we came upon this monsrtosity (nearly 40 kilometers in length, and 20 kilometers wide), and I decided that it would be best to investigate the matter rather than immediately go around or under the mass. A foolish decision on my part. I did not realize that there might still be people living on board these ships, and that they might defend their new homes with such ferocity. We came upon them at full cruising speed, only to be greeted by the rapport of the 5in guns hidden on a battle cruiser somewhere near the center of the floating mass of ships. The explosion of the shells, though not a direct hit, ruptured the hull in three places and prevented our initial dive to safety. Mr. Pope and his men were quick to action, establishing patches and preventing pressure loss, though I fear that being faced for the first time with the reality of a watery grave has shaken the nerves of many of the crew. Unfortunately, without authorization, my weapons officer released two of our redesigned torpedoes. They struck one of the hulks, sending it to the deep. There's no way of knowing how many souls were lost in the exchange.
After that incident, we dove and traveled by snorkel through the flotilla until we were well out of weapons range. However, our engines were damaged, and we were reduced to a top speed of about 10 knots, with frequent stops along the way. I grow quite tired of the smell of diesel smoke in our recirculated air.
Finally, two days ago, we reached the old cruise liner port in Hilo, Hawaii. I remember this place from my youth. My parents took me and my sister here on a family vacation and we stopped in this place. Fortunately, the refueling facilities were nearly untouched and undamaged, making us able to fill our tanks to the brim with fine diesel fuel.
Tomorrow, Mr. Pope is tasked with finding the source of the radio transmission, and I am coming with him.
~Island Parker
However, I would like to point out that everyone around me seems to be sick with this strange multi-week sore-throat/cough/congestion/flu bug . . . . but strangely, not me.
~J(R)
So, this weekend was pretty interesting . . . and in interesting I mean I never want to do it again. See, this weekend my fiancee's mother came to visit, with her youngest brother in tow. Now, normally, I'm the kind of person that gets a long with most people, and I have always been the kind of person to get along with my friend's parents, and especially the parents of my significant others. Lets face it, ladies, your mothers love me.
However, this is not the case with my fiancee's mother, or if it isn't, I can never tell the difference.
Without going into too much detail, this weekend was highlighted by two events: 1) my trip to the dentist where I got two teeth drilled and filled, and 2) dealing with my future mother in law.
Honestly, 1) was probably more fun.
However, the little brother is a really cute kid, and I love hanging out with him. He can be a hand full, but he is really innocent and just wants you to pay attention to him. In any case, can I have a weekend to recoup from this weekend?
Cheers,
~J(R)
Last night I attempted to put together my solar powered theremin kit that I got from Maker Fair. Its a little solar powered music box that changes tone depending on how much light is coming into the solar panel. Not a true theremin, which works on intersecting inductive fields, but I thought it would be a fun project nonetheless seeing as how I really haven't done much good electrical soldering in a long time.
Anyway, I spent a long time on it last night, a few hours at least, and when I was done, the damn thing wouldn't work. I was so depressed, especially after my Car window failed repair and after taking apart Aimee's hair dryer only to (in my mind) make it worse then before. Also, the wimshurst pieces are still on the floor, desperately needing a redesign. I was feeling totally down because not only that, but I thought this would be and easy project.
Anyway, I took it downstairs to the vislab so I could use their volt meter on it, to see if I could track teh problem, and wouldn't you know it, the damn thing started working?!?! I didn't do anything special to it, but it definitely has an affinity for sunlight, as opposed to light bulb light, which is probably why it wouldn't work last night. So, I am starting to feel a little better about my projects again . . . . its the little victories that keep us going.
. . . . and on that note:
"In reaffirming the greatness of our nation we understand that greatness is never a given. It must be earned. Our journey has never been one of short-cuts or settling for less. It has not been the path for the faint-hearted, for those that prefer leisure over work, or seek only the pleasures of riches and fame. Rather, it has been the risk-takers, the doers, the makers of things -- some celebrated, but more often men and women obscure in their labor -- who have carried us up the long rugged path towards prosperity and freedom."
BARACK OBAMA, Inaugural Address, Jan. 20. 2009
Cheers,
~J(R)
Well, last night upon getting home from work I was determined to get my new window regulator in to my car. As some of you know, the passenger side window on my car has not worked in a while, though fortunately it has been stuck in the up position, with random times when teh switch activated the window to go down, usually followed by me screaming "NO, PUT IT UP! IT MIGHT NOT EVER WORK AGAIN!".
I've had the new regulator for a while, I just always seem to run out of time when I think about installing it. Well, I tackled it last night. After a few slight mods and a few cuts and bruises, I finally got it in, only to discover that the new window regulator only seems to allow the window to go up, and not down at all. GODDAMNIT!
Anyway, since this is the case, it is likely that the real problem is the switch. I'm ordering a new one off ebay as we speak. Fucking cars. However, spending some quality time with my auto really does make me feel like I own it just a little bit more than the average person who never considers that they might be able to fix something on their car by themselves. As the makers say "If you can't open it, you don't own it".
Cheers,
~J(R)
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=1
Enjoy!
~J(R)
~J(R)
Discuss.
So, a few of you know that I've been in the market for some new ink, and with my birthday present from Aimee, I've decided to kick this plan into action finally. I've been looking at this one artist for a while, Dave over at Guru Tattoo (also the shop's owner) (www.gurutattoo.net). I saw Dave do some really excellent work at a tattoo expo at the Cow Palace about two years ago, and thought I would give him a call.
I went over to the shop Friday afternoon to chat with Dave about my idea. Though Dave is really busy for the next few months, he was really excited about doing my tattoo, as it was something he's never done before. We got to talking, like Dave wanted to get to know me. We talked about cars and my tattoo ideas, my previous tattoo work, what I did for a living, and he seemed genuinely interested. I even took hm out to my car so i could show him the mods I did on the engine. Overall, I really think Dave is cool as just a person, not to mention his tattoo work is cool. I set up appointments for the work that I'll be getting done and handed over my deposit. I feel good about this decision.
Cheers,
~J(R)
Day: 23
Year: 2109 (10 years after Moonrise)
A long day indeed. Still no sign of Captain Hex. I had some of the men take a couple of the dinghies out into the bay to search some of the old hulks half-sunk off the San Francisco piers. Generally, armed with an array of tools and their diving suits, the men are able to bring back hauls of quite a few useful parts necessary for our maintenance and repair. To this task I leave Mr. Pope authority to choose his diving parties. However, something went terribly wrong. We are now one man down.
The diving suits are made mostly from what scraps of material we can find . . . often the remains of neoprene wetsuits found below decks and leather scraps. We no longer have the capability to compress air for our divers, so we use man-powered pumps to force air into a diver’s respirator, which is controlled by the diver’s breathing and a series of pressure valves I helped to design that makes breathing underwater a bit more natural. Obviously, being attached to a hose at the surface reduces the amount of freedom a diver has, but perhaps even more dangerous is the vulnerability these divers face attempting to navigate various wreckage with a tube being drug behind them. If the hoses are pierced of cut accidentally, then there is no redundancy.
And that, unfortunately, is exactly what happened to Crewman Johnson. He was exploring the bowels of a sunken shipping freighter when all of a sudden the tension in his line was lost, and upon reeling in of the life support line, it was discovered that Johnson was no longer attached to it. Crewmen Ashcroft and Lawrence immediately dove to attempt a rescue, but no sign was found. They followed his bootprints on the seafloor for a time, but eventually the tracks disappear when they enter a hole left in the ship's engine room. Morale is low on board the DeepOne due to this incident. Examining the hoses, the cut was extremely clean, as if made with a blade. It is unlikely that Johnson was attacked underwater, so my only conclusion is that his hose got caught on some metallic debris and the force of his walking motion was enough to sever the line. It is quite possible that the strong bay tides carried him out to sea from there. I've instructed the divers to dive in pairs from now on, though this means that the amount of seafloor we can cover is effectively halved since we will have to put pairs of diving teams together now.
On the island, Mr. Pope has continued leading teams into the tunnels under the island. I hear he has even devised some sort of mechanical range-finding device to map the tunnels with sound-waves without having to explore each one intimately by hand. I have yet to examine the device itself, but the principle seems sound. I hope to soon have a map of the hive system under Alcatraz before we next set sail. Another task I've set for Mr. Pope is for him to replicate the electricity generating capabilities of our diesel submarine for use on the island. The ability to generate electric light using the old cell block systems would be a godsend to the refugees we have allowed to live there to tend the crops and livestock, and maybe make life slightly more tolerable for everyone. At the very least, it should be possible to create a small static electricity device based on the wimshurst principles . . . though I fear that Mr. Pope has little patience for my explanations of relatively ancient technology.
Scanning the military and citizen band radio frequencies using the DeepOne's repaired instruments, we've made a startling discovery. To the west, towards the Hawaiian Island Chain, we have been picking up a weak transmission. This implies a great many things, but we must remain cautious. There is no telling what might actually be waiting for us in Hawaii, if anything at all. The trip will be dangerous if only for the fact that we must surface a number of times for air circulation and ballast, and each time we do we leave ourselves open to attack by Luna.
Still, I've ordered that we leave immediately.
"Oni Pa'a Mau Loa" . . . Forever steadfast.
-end-
Day: 21
Year: 2109 (10 years after Moonrise)
(Supplement)
I find myself now sitting on the rooftop of the building which used to be the Alcatraz visitor center and gift shop, looking out towards the ruins of San Francisco. I can look out and see the wreckage of the old high-rise buildings poking out from the top of the fog. In the calm of early evening, with the sun dipping into the deep blue behind me, I recall the events of moonrise.
It was a Saturday. I don’t know why I member that, but I remember clearly that I had been reading the BBC news on my work terminal at the institute. The headline was the same as it had been for weeks that The Aesir Colony on Luna was petitioning for their right for independence from the United Nations, and that if necessary, they were prepared to fight for their independence. Ten years ago The Moon sought its independence from Earth, and ten years ago for the final time, Earth said ‘no’.
The bombardment began when Luna was at its zenith over Kansas. At that point the entire United States was in its field of view. The United States, the single country most able to defend itself from such a massive attack, was systematically crushed under the thumb of Luna. The rest of the world was soon to follow. There was no contingency. There were no weapons capable of reaching up to them that couldn’t be intercepted. Here on the ground, it was as if god had pulled the rug out from under us all. Powerplants were burnt to cinders, our towering buildings pummeled with orbital debris, and our people running and screaming everywhere like ants who had just started to notice that their mound was on fire.
I didn’t know what to do, so like everyone else, I ran. I wanted to be outside, because unlike most of the Pittsburg locals, I spent my formative years in California where every good student learns what to do in an earthquake. The ground rolled under me, and with my arms over my head, I forced my way through the crowd. At some point I found myself against the bank of the Monongahela River when a nearby gas-station exploded, throwing me into the water. I don’t know when, but at some point I was pulled out of the water and onto the deck of the Renquin. We slipped under the surface of the water just as I was slipping out of consciousness.
I finally met Captain Hex and the crew properly a few days later from the floor of an overcrowded barracks that smelled of infection and old sweat. Initially I was made useful by helping to analyze the sub’s systems with one of the regular crewmen, Engineer Rex Pope. He and I often argued about repairs and the necessary minimum state of the ships’ essential systems. However, we seemed to work well together, and since the Captain’s disappearance, I’ve promoted him to Chief engineer.
We spent a significant amount of time in open waters, getting scattered radio reports of the destruction. Once we realized what the bombardment was really about, the annihilation of our technology, we tried heading back to shore a few times, but the state of anarchy was completely staggering. We decided then to carefully pick out targets for supplies or refueling, becoming pirates seemingly overnight. However, our mission was clear, to save any strays that we could, and to recruit crew from any who were capable.
-end-
Day: 21
Year: 2109 (10 years after Moonrise)
On board the USS DeepOne.
That we have survived this long under our own power and out of reach of the damnable lunar colony cannons is something of a miracle in and of itself. Our Captain, William Hex, is-was generally responsible for that. I'll never forget how he was able to take the ship our of our moorings in Pittsburg, taking on anyone who could manage while the city burned around us, and managed to find his way out to open ocean through the debris and rubble falling into the Mississippi River Delta. A formidable captain, to be sure. However, six days ago, our ship, formerly the USS Renquin, was forced to surface due to damage taken off the California coast, and we were spotted by the Lunar sensor array. As the orbital barrage began, Captain Hex shoved the repair crew back into the bulkhead and sealed it from the outside, giving the order to dive from the upper deck. we went as shallow as we could to simulate our destruction, but upon resurfacing, The Captain was nowhere to be found. That was six days ago. We've scanned the coast repeatedly while the moon is on the far side of the Earth, hoping that he made it to shore, but I harbor little hope now that he survived the attack. We will, however, keep looking.
In unrelated events, our new berth under Alcatraz island, former prison of the United States, seems to hold some very interesting secrets. Clearly, we are not the first submarine to use this location as a home base. Equally as clear is the fact that whatever submarine was stationed here was far superior to our own. The Renquin, now DeepOne, is a diesel relic of the second world war, which later in its commission was used as a science vessel and eventually a tourist attraction. Our explorations of the caves and facilities hidden under Alcatraz have revealed a vast labyrinth of tunnels, some extending all the way to the mainland into old San Francisco. It is our one safe harbor in the whole world. I've been able to construct, with the help of our "engineers", a production plant within the old Alcatraz building that can produce viable bio-diesel from both plant and animal oils. Because of this, we've begun to keep livestock on the island, as well as a plot of corn to feed our fuel needs.
Deep within the Alcatraz caves, the crew have been reporting a strange noise, reminiscent of a low-breathing sound. We have yet to determine the nature of the sound. The sound, which I have now experienced myself, unnerves me. In some ways I hope that we never discover what kind of beast would make such a sound.
Our task is still to find survivors on the mainland, and if they've valuable skills, to bring them here to hopefully make them part of the crew. Also, we continue to search for Captain Hex. Until then, as the most senior crewman I am acting Captain. I pray this commission does not last long.
-end-
codeninja555: god, the whole album is solid isnt it?
me: yeah
for sure
codeninja555: I am most partial to 21 myself
21 guns I think
me: trying to think which one is my fav
me: oh, nevermind, I know, Peacemaker
that song is hella badass
and I make no qualms about using the word hella
its got kind of an Americana/Rockabilly/Latin flavor to it
its kinda like going to Chevy's and getting a margarita with your honey-glazed chicken fingers.
(And now, of course, I really want to go to chevy's and get myself a margarita . . . damn you Green Day)
So, an update on my activities. Well, this weekend saw me being pretty productive overall. Saturday I spent at home while Aimee went to Santa Cruz to help Avital with her Frank direction for the upcoming Slugs in Fishnets RHPS performance. While she was out and about, I had a dentist appointment. So, I rode my bike over by the Rengstorff Costco and made it a little early to my appointment. Everything went pretty well, and I really like my new dentist. Unfortunately, after 3 years of NOT going to the dentist, I am now the proud owner of two cavities . . . to be drilled and filled in early June. I was also able to wander through the local comic store and decided that today I would make a workbench for the back patio.
A workbench . . . not something people often find they need, but in my case, I HAVE to have one. And usually, I have to build it myself. See, I'm the kind of person that makes a lot of messes when building projects, and let me tell you, I have a lot of projects, so I need a garage, really, but until I get all grown up and buy a house with a garage, I have to settle for whatever workspace i can find. For the last year I have had to be content with spreading newspaper out on the living room floor and then taking things out to our tiny patio when necessary. However, now, with Apartment 2.0, I have ample space for a proper work-area. So, I drove to the local little hardware store to get lumber and the various other things I'd need to build a simple workbench . .. because god knows no self-respecting Maker would buy his workbench at IKEA. However, their selection was pretty piss poor, and their lumber was god-awful. They did however, point me in the right direction of a proper lumber yard that is only a stone's throw away from my house! Which totally made the trip to the shitty hardware store worth it. The guys at the lumber yard were awesome, and clearly they were bored so they all wanted to help me. They all looked like former pro-wrestlers and football players from the 1970's. So, yeah, after a couple trips and a quick dip into the wallet, I came home int eh 96 degree heat to start on my workbench. When I finished, I was quite proud of my creation, but it was too damn hot to actually work on any of my ongoing projects (Damn you, Wimshurst machine!!!) So, I let it go and just hung out till Aimee got home. *Edit* Later that evening we went out to Half Moon Bay to sing Kareoke with some Santa Cruz and SF RHPS peeps. Was a lot of fun once we actually were able to shoo away some of the fucking rednecks. I sang Bohemian Rhapsody (badly) with Aimee, then Don't you Forget About Me, and ended with a bad ass rendition of Tom Sawyer, which has somehow now become my safety Karaoke song.
The next day was interesting. See, I've been on this Steampunk kick for a while, ever since the Maker Fair last year. So, I decided to make a meetup.com group and see who int eh area might be down for going to local steampunk events. Sunday was our first official group meetup, and sadly only Aimee and I were able to come. Undaunted, I gave the powerpoint presentation I had prepared anyway, and found that other people in the coffee shop were eavesdropping and that I was genuinely sparking some interest. After about an hour at the coffee shop with no other members (My group currently has 13 members now: http://www.meetup.com/Bay-Area-Steampun
For anyone who is interested, the next steampunk meetup will be at the Maker Fair at 1:00 pm in the food court area. For tickets and more information: http://makerfaire.com/ Even if you're not into steampunk you should come to the fair anyway, it is an awesome event.
Cheers,
~J(R)
No experience is needed, just enthusiasm and desire to learn new techniques. Laboratory hours are flexible, meaning you can chose what hours you would like to join us, many or few.
We are currently highly active in both preparing and analyzing leaf samples in our lab at the Department of Global Ecology. Depending on the hours you can join us (ie. a full day or just a few hours in the afternoons), there are a number of different activities in the lab. These range from grinding newly acquired leaves, to weighing out samples for carbon and nitrogen analyzes, preparing and running elemental analyzes for phosphorous, sodium, potassium, magnesium, iron and a number of other elements in leaf tissue, analysis for chlorophylls, carotenoids and other plant pigments involving fresh tissue as well as preparing and running analyzes for leaf phenols, tannins and many other components of leaves.
More information about the project can be found on our website:
http://spectranomics.stanford.edu/
If you are interested in this opportunity please contact Robin Martin (remartin@stanford.edu).
*Note: knowing the folks you'd be working for, you should have a strong attention to detail, and thick skin regarding office politics.
I'm only on the second song and I am so in love with this album already.
How is that possible?
~J(R)
In case you don't already know, in the steam punk-world it is very popular to take common items and bolt/glue/tape them together to make yourself some retro-futuristic ray gun.
Here's mine:
I'm going to still paint the red bits copper, but I think on its own it is pretty kickass. I bolted a shotgun pistol grip onto it (upside down, it wouldn't fit otherwise, but it gives it more of an old west style I think) that I happened to have lying around. Go figure I would have something like that lying around.
Saturday night I had a really cool dream. I was a member of some special task force whose job it was to essentially go to hell and back. Yes, quite literally. Apparently in this universe it was possible for regular humans to take a physical path that would take them to hell, so they could have an audience with The Dark Lord in person. Any person able to make this journey would be free to ask The Devil one question, which The Devil was then obliged to answer honestly and without deceit. The problem, however, was that each route to Hell could only be traveled by a specific person once, and then would never work for that person again. Fortunately, after 1000's of years of experimentation, a number of these route have been mapped and their secrets guarded fiercely by the governments of the world. So, in my dream I went to hell twice.
As the newest member of the task force, I was able to take certain well known routes that the rest of the team couldn't because they had already been traveled. The first was an opening in an ice cavern, essentially a huge crack in an ice wall somewhere above the arctic circle. To make the journey easier, I was helicoptered to the location of the cave, so that all I would have to do was walk through the crack to get to Hell. I did so, and immediately had an audience with Satan. However, somehow I screwed up, and ended up staying in hell for a short period of time. But once I was returned to the surface I had no memory of the event or even if I had accomplished my mission. Apparently, The Devil had offered me some water while I was there, and that had given him some low level of control over me. He had kept me in hell until the magicians who worked at HQ had been able to pull me out and reverse the spell on me. First rule of flirting with the Devil, do not eat or drink anything while you're in Hell (ala the story of Persephone).
So, since the magicians had reversed the spell, it meant that the same trick would not work on me again in the future. So, I took the next route to hell, which this time was a lava pool underground somewhere that was guarded by a Demon. The demon showed me that to enter Hell from here, I would have to jump into the exact middle of the lava pool whirlpool, and that it would not hurt me so long as I stayed within the calm eye of the whirlpool. He even demonstrated by jumping in himself first. So I soon followed and found myself in the bed chamber of The Devil. He laughed when he saw me, and again offered me some water, which I accepted again, knowing the trick wouldn't work on me . . . . however, the spell was revered, not just negated, so as I drank, I got to watch as The Devil's bed became like a large aquarium and filled with water. The Devil exclaimed that this was quite clever, and soon burst from the shallow water prison of his own bed. Havign been beaten at his own game, he said that I should ask my question, quickly. My question was for him to tell the story of his Fall . . . not THE Fall that is told inteh Bible, but apparently Lucifer had been causing problems for some time before finally gettign kicked out of Heaven, and had been demoted several times before falling all the way to hell.
This was apparently the story of how Lucifer had fallen from the David Chior of angels (anyone who knows anythign abotu angels, does this chior have any bearing on actual christian mythology?). Apparently this chior worked often on Earth, before the Enochian flood. The story was of how Lucifer himself had fallen in love with a human woman, and sired a Nephilim. The Devil seemed very emotional at the telling of this tale, and told me that I shoudl leave soon after he was finished. However, it did leave me with the implication that Lucifer's Nephilim child may have survived the flood that killed the rest of the giant sons and daughters of Humans and Angels.
Any thoughts on this story? And seriously . . . that was a fucking crazy-awesome dream.
~J(R)
kerouacesque, who introduced me to the writings of Robert Anton Willson and discordianism, as well as someone I consider to be a expert in both the subject of the Illuminati, and in logical thought, was willing to answer my question about the "power elite".me: Hey G
hows it going?
Xenoff: reasonably well; bit sick this week, and had to TA on top of that, and proctor an exam for Eli since he's out having fun at a conference in Pittsburgh
me: lol
you get h1n1 or something?
;-)
Xenoff: sure did; eat too much pork, clearly
Xenoff: how's things out your way?
me: good good, not too many complaints
I have a logic question for you
Xenoff: shoot
me: assume that there is a relatively small group of people who control things from behind the scenes . . . an illiminati-esqe group of people. Nearly unlimited political influence and nearly unlimited finances. If they chose to hide themselves from the public, how would it be possible to detect them?
perhaps detect them is too strong . . . how about just to prove they are real
Xenoff: well, first off, i reckon if they had nigh limitless political influence and finances, they'd have no particular reason to hide themselves; seems more likely that they have some very real limitations, if they exist
me: suchas?
Xenoff: well, limits on their political influence and finances; especially if there's actually a number of secret groups vying for supremacy behind the scenes - let's say five groups
Xenoff: and then there's the fact that any such group hides largely by spreading disinformation, which makes proving their existence difficult, since that would likely rely on proving a number of facts about them, any number of which may have been made up deliberately to throw people off
Xenoff: guess it also depends on what we mean by proof, in which case it may be most convenient to say that we can prove their existence by providing enough evidence that such a group exists that trying to explain all the evidence assuming they don't exist is more complicated
me: back
me: sorry, I dont quite understand that last part
you mean to say that proving that they do exist is less complicated than proving that they dont?
Xenoff: not quite; i mean more of a hypothesis test
let's say we have a set of evidence, X
and we need to discern between two hypotheses: 1) they exist, 2) they don't exist
me: ok
Xenoff: if X is strong enough, then we'd need to make some pretty strange, unlikely assumptions in order to justify (2)
me: interesting
ok, I'm with you
Xenoff: if those assumptions are stranger and unlikelier than "There's a secret group of nigh omnipotent individuals who control the events of the world", then we might consider that proof of their existence
or we can just look for proof in a card game from the mid-90's: http://www.cuttingedge.org/news/n1753.c
me: lol
nice
mind if I put this on my LJ?
Xenoff: go for it
me: thanks
~J(R)
glowmonkay about the "power elite", a supposed group of relatively few individuals who control everything from behind the scenes. This group would have to be above government and military, and in a way above the economy as well. The Question: If we assume that such a group exists and that they have the desire to hide themselves from public knowledge for whatever reason . . . then how do we, existing inside the system of their control if you will, discover and prove the existence of the "ultimate power elite"?
At lunch today I posed this question to my fellow Global Ecology scientists and we came up with an interesting method of detection. It occurs to us that the only way we would know of the ultimate power elite is if there were events that 1) could not be hidden from public knowledge, and 2) that these events did NOT generate a predictable outcome based on the circumstances present. If you liken the situation to living inside 'The Matrix', you essentially have to look for the glitches in The Matrix. These events would have to be things like national elections where a popular vote didn't match the associated electoral vote, but more like "The gun went off, but no bullet came out." These events can't just be 'weird' in an unlikely way, they have to be 99% impossible. Also, if you were lucky, there should be a group of people consistently associated with these events. These people wouldn't be the puppeteers per-say, but the favorite puppets. They would be an extension of the group, but still a safeguard or buffer. There would be no way at all to discover the real identities of the "power elite" unless they confessed to their actions, and could prove their own involvement, because we are assuming these people have the desire to hide themselves, and that they have virtually unlimited resources to do so.
What do you all think about this? Would there be a better method of detection? Could a group so powerful even exist? IMO, no, but I am interested in the theory. If you do, can you think of some examples where glitches in the matrix have happened?
Cheers,
~J(R)
Never Forgotten Heroes - Rhapsody
It was cold. Very cold.
It was so cold that my hands hurt to move the fingers. It was so cold that it was difficult to think clearly, and so cold that it was hard to see. Blinking away the frost from my eyes I realized that I was in complete darkness. Where I was and who I was, what my name might be, these were all completely theoretical concepts and as important to me as the inner workings of the great machine. This information was there, it did exist, but was completely foreign to me.
With a sensation like electrocution I erupted from the darkness. Pain? Yes, that was real now, but only as a sign of damage. There was no fear of pain, only the knowledge that pain meant something was wrong. I walked forward, into the ruins of a great city. A modern city by any standard, but still one that was on its way back to the dust. Huge hulks and skeletal remains of office buildings, with their steel underpinnings rusty and twisted from their concrete moorings, loomed above. I knew they were here. I knew they were hiding from me. I was barefoot, and felt the debris under my soft feet. I wore plain garments and felt a gusty wind blow the fabric like a flag against my body. I was unarmed, but the most deadly force in this universe.
I was dangerous to them.
From the decaying rooftops they came at me. They wore strange masks to conceal their identities, both tribal and functional in nature. Their clothing hid layers of armor and weapons, but none of these things concerned me.
Again I was the holy and divine warrior. They would wash upon me like the tide washes upon the rock, and I would drive them back again. They leaped down upon me by the thousands. They were a humanoid rain. My perception of time slowed, and in so doing I could watch the figures fall in a state of grace that I have never known in my waking life. The first to reach me slowly pulled, with time stretching out into eons, a silver weapon from the folds of his clothes. I reacted with an intensity and a startling bloodlust. Also, there was insanity. I came to understand that I was completely insane, but the most powerful being in existence. Screaming, I flexed my very being, and watched as lances of bone ripped through the air. Hundreds found themselves pinned to the walls they had leaped from. Still thousands more kept coming. Again my mind reacted, and by the force of my will and whatever power was allowing me to continue I knocked the oncoming army down with a mighty wind. They were no threat to me, but somehow I was intimately insulted at their attempt to fight. I continued to walk, and to laugh maniacally as waves upon waves fell, burned, choked, broke, tore, and were driven mad.
Was this real life? It was as real to me then as this life is to me now. What part of me is real and what part of me is imagined? In truth, there is no way to know.
~J(R)
Simply put, raise your hand if you think this applies to you.
Says Michael Kimmel, a sociologist and author of Guyland: The Perilous World Where Boys Become Men, “The Quarterlife Crisis is a kind of anticipatory crisis: ‘How is my life going to turn out? I don’t have a clue; I don’t have a map; I don’t have a vision for it.’ The mid-life crisis is a kind of ‘Is this it? I had a big plan, I had big ideas. Now I’m 48 and I guess I won’t get to do those things.’ The mid-life crisis is understood as one of resignation. A Quarterlife Crisis will resolve itself by hooking itself into a plan.” What that plan could be, though, might be vague, or feel altogether impossible to create.
Attempts to manage the Quarterlife Crisis might be as banal as drinking a lot, doing a bunch of drugs, sleeping with idiots and myriad other kinds of self-flagellation, but broader attempts are made to find some sense of purpose. An obvious choice for panicking twentysomethings with a post-undergraduate sense of displacement and for the ones that aren’t fulfilled by their jobs is grad school. . . "
Admittedly, this probably applies to me far too well.
~J(R)
Once at the range I took it out and started firing away, only to notice a very surprising defect in the gun . . . it ejects the shells up and back instead of to the right. Naturally, this leads to getting hit in the forehead with hot brass every time you pull the trigger. It wasn't as much of a problem for me seeing as how I was wearing a ball cap, but Dave ended up with a couple black marks on his forehead by the time we headed over to the 100 yard rife range. It was a great day for shooting, and he and I both did exceptionally well. I am confident that if our great nation is ever invaded by alien paper, we will be well prepared.
Anyway, will be looking into the ejector issue, but other than that, it was a lot of fun to blast away with that gun.
Cheers,
~J(R)
So, In an effort to get myself up to the range more often, I have borrowed another gun from my dad. I've been wanting to do more pistol target practice, but even though I love my .22, its not really presenting me with much of a challenge anymore. I wanted to go for something a little sexier and with a little more kick. The answer was in my Dad's gun-safe. Apparently My grand-father, while he was living with us in Saratoga, used to go to garage sales in his spare time and try to buy guns cheep. Well, one such acquisition of his was a Smith and Wesson model 915, though some folks have wondered if this is a real S&W model, I can assure you it is very real.
It is a 15 round 9mm pistol with an aluminum and steel frame, back from the days before 15 round clips were a no-no in California. All the online reviews I've seen on this weapon are good, only I can't find reliable break-down instructions anywhere. I'd like to be able to take it apart and clean it thoroughly before using it for the first time. So, if any of you other gun aficionados out there know of anything that might help me out, I am all ears.
Thinking about going up to the range this Sunday before greek-easter with the family in Monterey.
Cheers,
~J(R)
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