n: vb: the spice of imagination
via Scott:
Pirate Bay user downloads entire site’s index files.
Creates a 21gb mega-torrent.
Adds rudimentary code to allow people to recreate their own copies of the site.
1st clones of the site already running (but struggling under the current media attention).
Ladies, we just went very meta indeed.
Today on Aardvark, for which I have invites:
Aardvark said:
You there? I have a question about **secret agent**.
Andrew Ferguson said you might be able to answer it.
(Type ‘sure’, ‘pass’, or ‘busy’.)
devastation jhayne, she said:
sure
Aardvark said:
(From Nikhil B./22/M/Stanford,US)
How does one get to be a member of KGB?
(Type ‘pass’ to skip, or ‘more’ for extra options.)
devastation jhayne, she said:
write a book about an old man and the sea
Aardvark said:
Great — I’ve sent that to Nikhil. Thanks for the fast answer!
(Type ‘Nikhil:’ followed by a message to add something, or ‘more’ for options.)
(Tip: type ‘add’ to add **secret agent** to the list of topics you like answering questions about.)
—
ps.
aferguson says:
“FYI: Jhayne Holmes just answered Nikhil’s question about **government**. Thanks for the referral!"
I made a deal with a dear long distance friend of mine this New Year’s Eve that I would toast him at midnight if he would toast me. As the venue I was at was ten minutes late with the midnight, and I didn’t have anything to toast with anyway, I instead made a post to him in reparation right before bed.
This was my reply:
“That’s really sweet, if slightly creepy. You were toasted at the Radegast Beer Hall in Brooklyn by about twenty people in a rolling, gregarious mood. The majority were men. Tequila had occurred prior. It went, word for word, like this:
VS: And to Jane with an H!
Tim: Who the heck is Jane with an H?
VS: She’s a good friend of mine.
Tom: Why should we toast her?
VS: Because she’s my friend.
Danny: But why should we TOAST her?
VS: Sigh. She has breasts.
All: To Jhayne!What can I say, I know how to work a crowd.”
It’s nice to feel so appreciated.
Jeepers, I thought last night was unexpectedly exciting, what with successfully hooking Nicole up with Nick for the holidays, finally meeting Dominique‘s new little baby, SURVIVING NICK’S NEW VAN CATCHING FIRE, (no one was hurt. I pulled Nicole out and we put the fire out with snow), and admitting rather bashfully to someone that I wrote about our personal life on the interblags, but today’s news sort of trumps it, so I’ll just get it out of the way and talk about yesterday in the next post…
“Skate to Chanukah music or watch and nosh latkes and doughnuts.
Monday, December 22, 2008, 6:00-7:30 pm.
West End Ice Rink, 1750 Haro Street (Between Denman & Bidwell).
Admission: By donation. Skates are free.”
Did you get that? Shaped like hockey sticks.
The wicked playful, amazing and just downright weirdo-funny portfolio of talented, award winning, dutch flash artist/designer Coen Grift.
Make sure to zoom in on everything, there’s an obscene amount of detail packed into the 1000 megapixels of art, comedy, and minigames.
To start, find the raccoon with the metal detector. He’s hanging out by the tree of carrot death.
via James Everett
Actual lyrics from a song I’m testing today for work:
The Chorus: “But you feel so clean. Well she craves affection, so I use protection, and I know she loves me, she loves everybody.”
The First Verse: “You’re just a little girl now, you’re just a girl who misses her dad, and all the toys that she had, thought I could make you older, thought I could keep you out of harm, but now you’re caught in my arms.”
The Second Verse: “Now that we’ve made it this far, now that we’ve made a mess in the car, you ought to give it a rest.”
He then repeats the chorus about her feeling clean, but using a condom because he doesn’t want a filthy, filthy STD off the adoring yet slutty jail-bait he’s using as a Kleenex, because he knows she must have something besides love for him tucked away in that little girl skirt, no matter that the last iteration of the chorus doesn’t repeat the line, “she loves everybody” as a nod to her clubbed to death child-like innocence. End scene.
The cover of the album is a black custom condom wrapper.
It looks perfectly reasonable, doesn’t it? Until you notice this:
I’ve been semi-kidnapped to Whistler by the glittering stars of a hacker convention, which means hot-tubbing and skidoo’s, but does not include attending the Vagabond Circus at LIME or Dress Up & Bowl at Commodore Lanes. My apologies.
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