During the first week of August, my friend Kim came to visit Portland for the first time. I like to think that she had a good time… and I’ve finally posted the photographic proof:
There’s more where that came from. Follow the link, my friends!
Author: Karel Kerezman
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We are the Knights who say… PING!
Found over at Tech Support Comedy, this lovely bit of geeky homage:
Knights of Ping: Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping!
Arthur: Who are you?
Knight of Ping: We are the Knights who say….. “Ping”!
Arthur: (horrified) No! Not the Knights who say “Ping”!
Knight of Ping: The same.
Other Knight of Ping: Who are we?
Knight of Ping: We are the keepers of the sacred words: Lart, Ping, and Staar-fish!
Other Knight of Ping: Star-fish!
Arthur: (to Bedevere) Those who cross them seldom live to tell the tale!
Knight of Ping: The Knights who say “Ping” demand….. a sacrifice!
Arthur: Knights of Ping, we are but simple lusers who seek the porn site who lives beyond this modem.
Knights of Ping: Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping!
Bedevere: No! Noooo! Aaaugh! No!
Knight of Ping: We shall perform a LART on you… if you do not appease us.
Arthur: Well what is it you want?
Knight of Ping: We want….. (pregnant pause) CAFFEINE! (minor music)
Arthur: WHAT?
Knights of Ping: Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping!
Arthur: No! No! Please, please, no more! We will find you caffeine!
Knight of Ping: You must return here with caffeine… or else you will never get thru this call… alive.
Arthur: O Knights of Ping, you are just and fair, and we will return with a caffeine.
Knight of Ping: One that has sugar.
Arthur: Of course!
Knight of Ping: And is very expensive.
Arthur: Yes!
Knight of Ping: Noowwwww…. GO!The original posting, with snarky commentary and linkage (did you know there’s an Eric Idle musical hitting stages soon, called “Spamalot”? and that Tim Curry’s taking the Graham Chapman slot in the cast?) is linked forthwith.
TSC: Knights of Ping?
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Kung-fu Fighting Space Zombies
In the midst of a useful guide to building a Leap Attack Barbarian, this bit of text appears:
Kung-fu Fighting Space Zombies doesn’t have anything to do with Diablo II, but I think that someone should make a movie called Kung-fu Fighting Space Zombies, because if there ever was a movie called Kung-fu Fighting Space Zombies, I would see that crap like 400 times and I would totally dig it, and also I think that several chicks would dig it, and then I would take them to see Kung-fu Fighting Space Zombies like every single night for years and be all like, “Hey ladies, what’s goin’ on?”
Aw Hell yeah.
Okay, so a Leap Attack Barbarian may not sound like the most-fun-ever way to play Diablo II… but the guide’s certainly clever enough. Oh, and don’t forget:
Finally, perhaps most importantly, and I want you to LISTEN to me here:
Stop saying n00b.
Truer words, my friend, were never electronically displayed…
The Flying Booyaka
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He’s a dozen, now.
My son, Alexander, was born on the 15th of August, twelve years ago.
Happy Birthday, Spud. I love you.
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And while I’m good and angry…
I want a new T-shirt. I want it to read, in large text, “YES, I AM A REGISTERED VOTER IN OREGON. NOW LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE.”
You’d think that the headphones would deter them, but no, it only works on about half of them. You know who they are, the ones with the clipboards that want you to sign a petition, probably to let Ralph Nader get on the presidential election ballot in Oregon. (That, right there, is a good enough reason not to want to talk to these people.)
I’m sick and tired of being accosted just because I happen to be downtown, waiting for a bus or MAX, and therefore a captive audience. I’m all for participatory politics, don’t get me wrong, but after the 50th time (this week!) of hearing “Are you a registered voter in Oregon?” I’m starting to get tired of the process. It can be November sort of now-ish, thanks.
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I simply must ask.
In what alternate reality dimension, not of sight or sound but of mindlessness, is it a good idea to send email attachments of over 200 megabytes?
Seven times?
All at once?
To the utter knob who ruined my morning by crashing the email server with seven 200-plus-megabyte attachments: Go directly to hell. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.
(Before anyone asks: Thanks to the delightful way Groupwise stores messages, I have no way at all of knowing whodunnit. Believe me, that fact alone adds to my blood pressure levels considerably right now.)