Researchers at CERN, (yes THAT CERN) have discovered the speed of light is beginning to slow down. They fired a beam of light and some subatomic particles (neutrinos, arguably the most physically fit subatomic particles) into a particle accelerator, and a neutrino won the race. Light wasn’t even on the heels of the neutrino, and was lagging 60 billionths of a second behind!

Scientists are baffled at how our precious photons are getting so slow. Margaret Flanahan of Boston University posits, “We think it might be due to all the television watching that happens. As we sit on our couches and get fat while watching sitcoms, photons are exposed to the same life-draining drivel. I’m only surprised it hasn’t happened sooner.”

What seems like a minor mathematical error or fluctuation in space time is really a more serious problem than most people realize. If photons continue to pork out and slow down, light won’t be as reliable as we’re used to. Live reality TV will no longer be in real-time. Sunsets will happen later. Cats will be able to catch laser pointer lights with minimal effort. Truly, it’s the beginning of the end. Real life scientist Bob McFeebly thinks obesity is only the first problem. “What happens when our happy go lucky photons start to get depressed due to their obesity problem? As their mood darkens, so do we. Global cooling, food shortages, return of the ice age, and the bankruptcy of countless sunglasses factories. We’ve only seen the beginning, folks.”

Certainly a grim sign of what’s to come. Some folks are making the best of a bad situation, however, and nature photographers in Florida’s Lightning Belt are getting some prize photos. Snappy McSnapherson, a well known lightning photographer commented to our reporters, “It’s easier now than ever before! You just wait for the thunder, then point your camera in that direction. By the time the light gets there, you’re set up for an awesome shot!”

Former California governor, and known health advocate, James Rolph Jr. recommends a rehabilitation program for our overweight photons. “We just need to put photons on a regimen of diet and exercise.” Rolph recommends the following:

1. Use fewer batteries. Flashlights are way too bright nowadays. Back in my day we carried around a glowing coal ember, and it was plenty. Light is getting fat because we use too many batteries. Just take one battery out and replace it with a stack of pennies.
2. Swing around your flashlights. Make those photons get out and MOVE. Why I once had a dog named Old Chuckles, and he got fat from not moving around. We moved around a lot when I was a kid. My dad was in the Navy, and I had to switch schools at least 23 times a day. Days were shorter back then, and twice as hard. I miss my friend Cooter.

That was all we could get from Mr. Rolph, as he started babbling nonsense. Good advice though, we should all follow it. Of course, by the time the light gets to your eyeballs from the computer screen to read this, it will likely be too late.

So long folks, and remember to turn off the lights. Otherwise you’ll wake up with a lazy puddle of photons on the floor, and who’s gonna sweep that up?

Apart from that, they are a waste. As it turns out, paper currency costs a lot of money. Har har har. Seriously though, using coin dollars would purportedly save $5.5 billion dollars over the next 30 years. This is due to a few reasons:

• Dollar bills cost 2.7 to make
• Dollar coins cost 15 cents to make
• BUT, bills last about 40 months
• and coins last 34 years

You probably figured out one of the big reasons the government might hesitate switching over. The first 4 years of the switchover will actually cost money instead of saving money. Politicians need to be reelected, and losing money in the short term doesn’t really garner that many votes. (As a whole, people are fairly short sighted)

So here’s my plan: We need to get the support of the extreme (ahem, crazy) conservative Americans. We just need to stress a few things about paper dollars, and they’ll be burned at the metaphorical stake:

• Paper dollars are easier to stuff into stripper’s g-strings than coins.
• Marijuana joints are rolled with dollar bills. (I had to google this, but apparently it’s true) Not so much with coins. Sure, it would probably be possible to roll them with bigger bills — but druggies only have dollars left after the purchase. Everyone knows that.
• Bank robbers always want small, unmarked bills. That’s because singles are sinful.
• Dollar bills are bleached out to make counterfeit larger denomination bills. Who would ever bleach out a 5?!?!?
• And lastly, one dollar bills are used to steal from God. People wrap a bunch of 1′s in a 20, and drop it in the offering plate. It makes ‘em look generous.

I think my plan is a good one. The only possible problem I see is that a dollar coin in a wallet looks like a condom. We’ll have to work on that one…

For some reason people want to see video proof of Flo’s suckitude. Here’s the latest cut…

Did you get a hideous tie? It just means the gifter thinks you have enough charisma to wear anything and have it look good. Did you get a sausage and cheese pack that looks like it’s from 1986? That’s aged fake-plastic cheddar! It’s probably worth thousands!

The one gift that’s always hard to take well is the soap and deodorant gift pack. How that says anything other than, “You smell bad, I thought this might help” is beyond me. I always try to imagine the person thinks I’m very concerned about hygiene, and knows I’d never splurge on an off brand travel sized gift pack myself. Oh, by the way, what is shower gel anyway? I never know what to do with half those bottles that come in the gift pack…

Anyway, keep your smile on full bore over the next couple days. Remember it’s the thought that counts. Remember you can always regift that sausage and cheese pack next year (they only improve with age I’m told). And lastly, hold off on your pasta sorting — your days of manual sorting are almost over!

Merry Christmas and happy holidays everyone.

I know they say size doesn’t matter, but just look at those glasses. Oh yeah. You know what I’m talking about. Homeslice could see the whole computer screen without moving his head. (Coincidentally, the computer screen at that point was that aforementioned black and white TV. Uh hu, we kicked it old school.)

How did I happen upon this glorious bit of the 80s you might ask? Well, that’s what happens when your Mom starts a blog. So far there are no bathtub photos over there, but it’s probably just a matter of time.

Also, I think the extra day should be Friday. Face it, the first day back from the weekend (regardless of duration) will stink. Monday already has that stink about it, so let’s leave it alone. Think of all the good we’ll do…

• If everyone stayed home from work on Friday, that would be a 20% reduction in carbon emissions for the workday commute. TWENTY PERCENT. Looking at it that way, it almost seems sinful to go to work 5 days a week.
• With every weekend being a 3 day weekend, the regional tourist industry would be booming! Think about it, everyone could take a mini-vacation (walking of course, so as not to nullify bullet point the first), and we’d create jobs for workers in the tourist industry! (I’m looking at you, northern Michigan…)
• Saturday would no longer be the only perfect day. See, now, Saturday is the only day you can both sleep in AND stay up late. With my Four Tens plan, Friday and Saturday could be perfect weekend days!
• It’s the next logical progression to my ultimate plan… Three Twelves.

So, my fellow Earth dwellers — let’s take a stand. I say, save the planet! Four Tens for Two Thousand Twelve! (That will be my presidential slogan. Vote for Shawn!)

You can’t make this stuff up, I found this post in my “Drafts” section of WordPress’ dashboard. Dated August 10th. I think posting it like this is actually better than finishing my original thoughts on the matter, which I assure you were profound.

Why yes, I did start this post about a week ago and I’m just getting around to posting it.

Here’s the deal:

Anyway, in no particular order, here’s what I hope to do in 2010:

1) Finish the project I’m horribly behind on.

Unfortunately, it’s a time sensitive project, and the time has long since passed the sensitive zone. The people I’m working with on this project are incredibly wonderful to work with, and beyond understanding when it comes to my crazy schedule — but I gotta be honest, they deserve better. I’d like to get this particular resolution done in January.

2) Learn to use a Linux video editor.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a zealot when it comes to Linux. I’m really not. Here’s the deal though, I’d really like to make the videos I do for Linux Journal on a Linux machine. It just seems like the right thing to do. My lack of motivation for switching has been because I can already edit video really efficiently on OSX, and it took me a long time to learn Final Cut. Still, I’d like to use Linux as my primary system, so this is a goal. (Kris Occhipinti has been a huge motivation on this front. Thanks Kris.)

3) Change the way I eat.

Note: This is not a, “Lose Weight” resolution. This is an, “Eat Better” resolution. There are two major problems with my current eating lifestyle: Quantity & Quality. Once I finish resolution #1, hopefully I can take some of that time to actually cook food. I still eat at restaurants way too often.

4) Exercise.

I’ll be honest, this is the least likely resolution I’ll be able to accomplish. Donna convinced me to go into the local gym every morning and work out with her for a month. Since I’ll have to pay for the membership, I’ll do my best to accomplish it. Perhaps walking on a treadmill next to Donna will make it less horrifying. Man, I really hate exercise…

5) Write a Book.

I don’t care if it’s a little all year, or a cram session in November (NaNoWriMo), I really want to write a book. I’m not sure if I’ll start with fiction or technology — but I must write a book. Really.

So that’s it. It’s a lot, but I purposefully didn’t put anything on there I don’t think I can accomplish. If all you’re lacking for your New Year’s Resolutions is the commitment to make them, feel free to do so in the comment section. If you slip up, we’ll know. Well, ok, only if you tell us. But still, feel free to commit below.

Happy New Year’s!!!!

Squirt salt water up one nostril, let it circulate in your cranium, and then drain out the other side.

It’s one of the strangest pseudo-medical things I’ve ever done. It feels about as exciting as it sounds. I don’t think it does anything useful, but there are a few interesting side effects:

1. You can feel your sinuses fill with water. It’s a little like getting a snoot full of pool water on accident, but without the chlorine
2. If your nose is slightly stuffy, the pressure induced by the squeeze bottle will do many interesting things to your eyes and ears. Namely, make them uncomfortable.
3. You look and feel like a complete idiot, and the logic of sinus squirting rivals that of snipe hunting. Apparently it’s a real thing though. I guess.
4. The most interesting side effect however, is that minutes, hours, or even days later, a gush of trapped water will work its way out and and effectively spew soggy nose goblins all over the table/computer/dinnerplate/date you are sitting near. You will have no warning, and no chance of stopping the flow.

Thanks a ton, Oprah.

I don’t want to post a screenshot, because the ad is still running through this Thursday. It’s so much better to see it in its native environment. If you go to www.linuxjournal.com, and hit refresh a few times, you should see it. You absolutely can’t miss it.

If you can’t seem to get it to appear, after Thursday I’ll post a screenshot — but really it’s hilarious. I hope you get to see it.

This evening, due to my inability to put my dirty clothes in the hamper, I have no clean underwear. I recently got out of the shower, and realized my situation too late to do much about it. So I grabbed a pair of boxer shorts and put them on. I really don’t like boxer shorts. So let’s talk about my misery a bit, OK?

• Boxer shorts are not underwear. You can feel free to disagree with me, but sadly you’re wrong. (Hey, lay off, it’s my blog) Look at their name: “Boxer shorts“. They’re shorts. The only reason they’ve become synonymous with underwear is so many people wear them as such. It’s much easier to say, “I prefer boxers”, than to admit, “I actually don’t wear any underwear — but don’t worry I always wear a pair of shorts under my pants so if my zipper falls down you don’t need to call the cops”. See, the latter just doesn’t roll off the tongue as easily.
• Before you start bragging about how great your boxer shorts are, take into account the real reason I think some of us prefer actual underwear. You ever been fishing? If you fish for little fish, like perch for instance, when you catch one you simply pull it out of the water dangling from your fishing line. It works great. If you go salmon fishing, however, you need a net to pull those big suckers in. I’m sure you see where I’m going with this.
• I think boxers are more popular with people in their 20s because they weren’t alive in the time period that tight jeans were “in.” It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that wearing boxers while wearing tight jeans is an easy way pinch things off. I’m just saying.
• It’s true there are lots of cool boxer shorts to be found. Cartoons characters, funny quips, strange designs, etc. Sadly, the days of awesome themed underwear are largely over for those of us that wear briefs. Back in the day, we could wear Underoos — but unfortunately I can’t find Superman undies in my size anymore. And yes, I’d probably wear them if I could. Shut up, you would too.
• I realize some doctors recommend boxers for men that are having a hard time conceiving children. I say get a new doctor. Sorry guys, see above mentions of pinching things off. Sometimes you gotta get a second opinion.
• Bikini things are not the same as briefs. Look, no one wants to see you in those. And if you’re an underwear model or something, and the ladiez really do want to see you in something that resembles a tiger-striped Speedo, chances are you’re not reading my blog anyway. One thing is for sure, none of the guys at the gym want to see you wearing that crap, so save it for jungle night at home or something. (And for the love of all that’s holy, don’t blog about it. Please.)
• The flies in tighty-whiteys: No one actually threads their thing through that ridiculous maze of fabric in order to save the time it takes to pull down the front. Sorry of that steals the magic away for some of you, but it’s true. They are not functional as a weenie escape route, and even if you go through the trouble of doing so, let’s just say garden hoses aren’t the only things that kink.
• So why are there double layers of cotton on the front of tighty-whiteys if you can’t use them for.. “that”? Ok, you asked. That dual layered front is for absorbency. Eiw right? Well, there is an unwritten law that says “Thou shall shake the drips off with 2 shakes only. Thou shall not shake more than twice. I meanest it, thou shall not. Three shakes is not OK, thou knowest it to be true…” So if the two shakes doesn’t sufficiently do the job, the two cotton layers are there to protect you from pee dots. Yeah, so what happens to your boxer friends after an unsuccessful double shake? Well lets just say they don’t have a double thick layer of cotton. Double Eiw.

And I think that will sufficiently gross enough people out to make up for my suffering in boxers this evening. I feel better. How about you?

This morning, due to insomnia problems, I was getting ready for work after my family had already left for school. As I was going through my groggy morning routine I got a call on my cellphone telling me every computer in our school district was frozen. I correctly assumed they didn’t mean the temperature had drastically dropped and rather they were all unresponsive.

My first response after hanging up was to blame the dog.

“Tux! Why are the new switches failing me!?!?!”

Submissive little creature that he is, Tux decided it was time to roll over and let me rub his tummy. I did so, but then scooped him up and put him in his dog crate. (See, Tux thinks alone time is best spent pooping and peeing on carpets, but that’s another story altogether)

I quickly found a pair of mismatched socks from the sock basket, my norm, and put them on. I sat on the couch and tied up my Converse All-Stars. Then as I sprinted through the dining room, I grabbed my tattered jean jacket from the back of the chair where I hung it last night.

Thankfully it’s still early spring here in Michigan. You see, in my haste and confusion I had forgotten to put on pants. The crisp April air on my ghostly white legs quickly pointed out the error. It’s quite possible the neighbor lady died of shock.

Rest assured I did go back inside and put on some pants. Which is good, because I also didn’t have my keys, so I would have been a pantsless maniac pounding on the outside of a school building. I’m pretty sure you go to jail for stuff like that…

Of course in these post-Palin days, I figure it’s just one of my Alaskan friends visiting. Still, seeing it makes me chuckle.

We have lots of snow. The storm London just got is what we refer to “A Tuesday” around here. That’s not to make light of the situation across the giant pond — it’s just to say that I should be used to it. And have the tools to take care of it.

First of all I should give you a little backstory. I have a toolbox. I really do. It’s big and red and plastic. It contains screwdrivers, wire crimping tools, needle nosed pliers, and a couple really sweet cable testers. And one 3 inch crescent wrench. No, not one that has jaws capable of turning a 3 inch bolt — but rather the handle is 3 inches long. I think it’s made from plastic coated in tin foil.

Anyway, back to the snow. We have lots. So much in fact that our postal delivery lady no longer will attempt to get close enough to our mailbox to deliver our mail. Now, I do have a snowblower, but it is so old that using it require skills that I don’t really have. Here’s a rundown of me snowblowing our driveway:

1. Spend 45 minutes and a can of starting fluid trying to get the frozen machine running. (I also have no garage, so it sits in the snow all the time)

2. Sniff the ether all over my gloves, and forget half of step 3

3. Take the first swipe down the driveway, which hasn’t been shoveled, plowed, or snowblown in many weeks of storms.

4. At the end of the driveway, I’ve seen 12 purple elephants, spoken to a friendly dresser, and the snowblower has warmed up enough to stall.

5. I adjust the throttle and choke, never the same way twice, until it runs again.

6. Take another swipe.

7. Again, snowblower stalls. By this time all the ice has melted from the engine, so even though the choke no longer helps, I can get a screwdriver near the carburetor and adjust the screws. Which screws? I have no idea, whatever turns without falling out.

8. Again, the engine roars to life. The throttle an choke are now working enough that I can milk a few swipes now. Then, the engine gets hot.

9. The engine stalls in the middle of the road while I was turning around. The transmission is coated in ice now, and the lever to disengage the drive won’t work. Thankfully, not much traffic goes down my road, so I get out my screwdriver right there in the road.

10. I loosen a screw too much and it falls out. Gas leaks on my gloves (the ether has long since worn off), and I scramble in the road looking for and its little spring. Apparently at this point the snowblower just had to pee, because when I put the screw back in, I get another couple swipes out of the engine.

11. About the time I think 2 or 3 more swipes will really make the driveway look sharp, the engine quits for good. At the road. And I need to push it by hand up to the house again.

Now, I left out lots of goodies regarding half broken recoil handles, a leaky gas tank, and a finicky gear shifter (it’s a self propelled walk behind deal). The sad thing is, I’m fairly certain many guys could stop by, sniff the exhaust and tell me my canooter valve is loose. One quick turn with an actual wrench and life would be good.

But I’m not that guy.

I’m a Mega Roll man.

Don’t get me wrong, I always read the sheet count on the claims of “just as much TP as 3 regular rolls!” But when it comes down to it, I’d rather buy 8 mega rolls over 24 regular rolls any day. I’ll admit, it takes some mental training, because it seems like you’re buying much less toilet paper. If you can get past the deceptive multi-roll economy size look, the mega roll is king. For several reasons:

1) Yes, it’s more environmentally friendly. Not as much as you’d think, but I suppose a couple cardboard tubes and a little more plastic wrap does add up.

2) It takes up less cupboard space. Granted, we have a lot of cupboards in our house, but filling that space with rolls that don’t make it a single day is just wasteful. And that leads to my big reason for being a Mega Roll Man:

3) You get stranded MUCH less often. If your rolls last 3 times as long, there are that many fewer opportunities for poor planning that result in “butt ring” while you wait for someone to hear you hollering. And I KNOW we’ve all been stranded alone at least once, which is even worse. (I’m also not looking for best practice tips when retrieving TP while pants-ankled)

So for me, it’s Mega Rolls every time. Now wipe that smirk off your face and fess up to your sheet count.

Since the first two goals were met, that means in the very near future (not today, it’s Monday around these parts) you’ll get some sort of short story or poem both typed and recited. As you can probably tell, I haven’t written the aforementioned piece yet. Thankfully, absurdity is one of my strong points so I’m hoping it’s a fun piece to write and read/hear.

Happy Monday!

In honor of the awesome “almost touch it if you stretch” moon, I give you the Sponge Monkeys, and their rendition of “We Like the Moon”. Enjoy.

WARNING: There are a few PG-13 parts in the video. You have been warned.

This morning, I was watching Gary Vaynerchuk’s Wine Library reviews, and thought it would be funny to do a parody. So, I bought a domain. Be sure to watch Gary’s stuff first, then check out my own review:

Gary:
http://winelibrary.tv

Me:
http://monsterlibrary.tv

The penguin replies, “It started out as a pimple on my backside.”

In 1993, I graduated from high school. I was a pretty brainy kid, and got a couple scholarships for college. One of those scholarships was for $1,000 cash that was supposedly above and beyond my needs for tuition, room, and board. As I’m sure you’ve already guessed, it was NOT above and beyond, and I had to turn the money in on day 1. My spending money for the entire year was gone, and I did not have a job (why would I need a job? I had $1,000!!!!)

The college year started, and as most college kids, I was expected to pitch in for the Saturday night beer pizza. Since I had NO money, I usually ended up mooching from my friends, and was jokingly called “Trunkboy”, because of an episode of Cheers. See, the other thing that happened in 1993 was the 11th season of Cheers. In this episode, Frasier gets shoved into the trunk of the car to get into the drive-in theater for free. They call him trunk boy. And that nickname stuck. (I didn’t fight it, because I much preferred if over “Cheap Freeloading Jerkface That Needs to Get a Job”)

So there you have it. 15 years later, I’m still Trunkboy, and although it seems silly, it reminds me of a unique time in my life.

Rules:

1. Link to the person who tagged you.
2. Post the rules.
3. Write six things about yourself.
4. Tag six people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs.
5. Let them know they’ve been tagged by leaving a comment on their sites.
6. Let your tagger know when your entry is up.

And now my list:

1. My right foot is turned out slightly. This mutation give me no super powers, nor does it really hinder me in any way. It’s very unlikely said mutation would qualify me as one of the X-MEN.
2. My first car was a 1978 Volkswagen Rabbit Diesel. I paid $250 for it, and would gladly pay 10 times that much for the same vehicle now. I didn’t know what glow plugs were at the time, and I think it would have made the experience much nicer if I had.
3. I’m absolutely terrified of bees. It’s one of those fears that you’d think would be funny to tease about, but I’m so scared, it really wouldn’t be fun. It just isn’t fun watching a grown man cry.
4. I prefer driving a vehicle with a manual transmission. Maybe it’s a power-trip control issue. Maybe it’s just that I like to keep busy while driving. Whatever the reason, I like ‘em better.
5. I like hot tea and cold tea. I like hot coffee, but think cold coffee concoctions are horrible abominations
6. I wear mismatched socks on every occasion I can. I’ve mentioned this before, but it remains true. I find it very difficult to take life too seriously while wearing one purple sock and one green one.

Now I have to tag people. I’m sorry I have to do this, but I’ll try to tag people that will forgive me. I suspect they won’t all actually participate, but I don’t think they’ll disown me either:

REDACTED. See above post.

Sorry guys & gals.

The downside is that I started working at Linux Journal a couple years too late. April Fool’s website spoofs aren’t nearly as popular as they once were, so the word didn’t get out like it might have even as little as one year ago. Still, it was incredibly fun, and for the most part was taken well by the audience. I particularly enjoyed writing the absurd little “articles” that posted on the front page. They’re very short, and linked below if anyone wants to see them:

• Video explaining the editorial shift
• Go Purple for Pentium Pro
• BeOS – The King of Recycling
• Antiquated Hardware Revitalized, Not Happy
• Bloggers are Bonkers for BeOS!
• BeOS Cluster Goes Live
• Sony Rumored to Buy BeOS
• NYC Subways Embed BeOS
• Operating System Programmers Flock to BeOS

The funniest part of the day was that a comment on the youtube video appreciated my humor, and thought my geeky hairdo was “staged” for the spoof. Uh… That’s just how my hair looks.

Thanks to all that played along, and thanks to Linux Journal for allowing my idea to overtake the website.

• (1) Bottle of sparkling grape juice. (The kids like to pretend its wine)
• (2) Bags of Doritos (they’re on sale buy one get one)
• (3) Kid Cuisine TV dinners.

And this is the coupon that printed out for me:

Don’t get me wrong, $2.00 off seems like a good deal and all, but I find the demographics a bit off…

One funny story (well, funny for me):

I was talking with my friend Josh this evening, and he commented that Easter week is always really busy and tiring. He’s a pastor, so I’m sure that’s the case. My response was, “Yeah, it was pretty tough on Jesus too…”

To which we both laughed. It was probably blasphemous, but still, funny.

The scary part, is that upon asking a friend that lives in the south about this crazy Northern version of the beverage that is so common in the south, he assured me that it’s probably sweeter down there. (This, by the way, would only be possible by creating some tea-based super solution, which would instantly crystallize when ingested. I’m just sayin’)

Soooo…. What the heck?!?!! Y’all from down south: Do you really enjoy this sort of thing? Do you also suck the honey right out of the honey bear too? Has the heat gotten to all y’all?

Oh, and there is a particularly sweet, slightly brown snowbank outside my house.

At least until I feel like doing any of those things again. Because it’s my blog. And I’m fickle.

So, just so that I cover the gamut of controversial issues, I leave you with irrefutable proof that Stevie Wonder is God:

1) God is Love (1 John 4:8)
2) Love is Blind (Shakespeare, Nietzsche)
3) Stevie Wonder is Blind (He can’t see.)

So Stevie Wonder is God. And I’m his humble preacher, so send your tithes and offerings to me. I’ll be sure he gets them.

Carlie: I’m pretty sure you have to do the challenge now…

Since you like cinnamon so much, try the Cinnamon Challenge. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2y2KMMk0Row

So I did.

So, do mismatch socks annoy you, or make you feel unique?

Nathan blogged about his issues with Dominos Pizza. I thought it was funny, and wanted to taunt him. So, I went to his online book, which has his name on the bottom, and looked up his home phone number in New York. Thankfully, his name is unique enough that this proved really simple.

Using my Skype phone (so it wouldn’t say, “Michigan Call”), I called him posing as the pizza guy. It’s funnier if you read his blog post, so go read it. (Warning: There is some angry New Yorker language, but it’s really funny. )

I also have a selection of tools that likely came from the dollar store. That, and a cub scout knife from the early 80s. It should be interesting.

Normally I would wait for help — but last night our brakes decided to skip the friendly “squeak” reminder, and go directly to “look, that car is trying to stop by rubbing two bricks together!” …wish me luck.

It’s funny approximately 1 time. But that doesn’t stop me from repeating often.

Har har har…

1) Be a Regular. This is not to be confused with being regular, because how boring is that? Rather, I mean be a regular to the site. Hijacking is much easier to accept from someone that commonly posts comments. For example: If an unfamiliar commenter on my site were to leave a comment offering to sell me something that will keep my wife satisfied all night long — I’d immediately delete it. If one of my regulars posted such a link, however, I would probably assume it was a link to a house cleaning android sale. Basically, you gotta build up your street cred to get away with off-topic stuff.

2) You Need a Hook. Except in some specific circumstances, even off-topic comments need to tie in somehow. For example: If I post a story about a cell phone, you could easily get off topic by saying, “I was talking on my cellphone yesterday, and guess what happened?!?!”

If you don’t have a hook, it has to be really creative. You have to pull off something so interesting and/or funny, that no one notices the hijack. I can’t really give you an example here, because it’s different for every blog post. This is a difficult skill to master, and leads us to…

3) It’s Hard to Smack Down a Funny Comment. If you hope to steal the conversation, you must take everyone’s interest off topic. Especially the author’s. Really, humor is the only effective way to do this consistently. And it must be genuinely funny too. You can only get away with a, “That’s what she said” or a really bad pun after you build up your humor cred.

Along with this, it’s important to know your audience. It’s unlikely a quippy quote from, “The Holy Grail” will score many laughs on a NASCAR blog. (Are there NASCAR blogs?) The opposite is true too. If you say something like, “Yeah, that’s like Earnhart driving the Pepsi car” on my blog, I’ll give you a blank stare. And then delete your comment. (Or make fun of you, depending on how inadvertently absurd you sound)

4) Some Hijacks Don’t Work. You have to be smart when you try to hijack a thread. If you see your favorite blogger post a picture of his cat doing something funny, or her family at Disneyland — thou shalt not post a comment linking to a political issue. Guess what? We post pictures of our cats because we don’t want to talk about the reality of politics and such at that time. There are some exceptions, like if I post a picture of my cat in a cape with the caption, “Super Tuesday Kitty”, yes, you may leave a political comment. (Unless it’s not actually near the Super Tuesday caucuses, so this really only works every 4 years or so)

5) Use Your Real Name, or a Rational Pseudonym. I will never follow links from jH0nn33-h34R7BR34|<3r. Even if you show me a driver’s license with that name on it. I will simply slap your parents, and move on. Don’t get crafty either, and think it’s funny to use the name, “Click Here for Naked Pictures of Hilary.” It’s not. (I don’t want to see the Google hits that gets me…)

6) Or Just Go Home. Look, the best way to hijack a comment thread is not to do it at all. Get your own blog. They’re free. If you have something interesting to say, people will come. Or, if you just want people to come, type the names of celebrities and the words naked pictures. You’ll get traffic. They will probably hijack your comments too. You’ll have to post something like this. And the circle will be complete.

7) Secret Email Address of Successful Bloggers. Successful bloggers have a secret address they give out to people they want to hear from. It’s an address pro bloggers use to get the inside scoop on off-topic issues. Did you think successful bloggers just wrote well?!?!! The address is an acronym for “Supremely Pertinent Abstract Message” — and your favorite blogger would LOVE to hear about your Aunt Ruth’s knee surgery, or how Ron Paul secretly eats kittens. Go ahead and drop a message to the acronym address, “spam@favoritebloggersite.com” NOTE: This address is super secret, and it’s unlikely you’ll get a response. That’s just because we want to keep it a secret. DON’T TELL!!!

So there you have it. Now go comment away, knowing that you have the keys to the kingdom.

I cherish this cup.

Now, NASCAR? Not so much. Don’t get me wrong, I think I’d enjoy driving a race car. I also think I’d do very well, right up to the point that I wrecked in a fiery inferno. There is this tiny little Neanderthal in me that comes out when I’m driving things like 4-wheelers, snowmobiles, dirt bikes, and I think race cars. I drive them like an absolute maniac. There’s a rather interesting story that I’ll tell someday that involves me breaking my back on a 4-wheeler…

BUT, watching NASCAR is about the lamest, most boring “sport” I could ever imagine. If you are a NASCAR fan, and you’re reading this, please explain the joy you get from it. Because apart from my coffee mug — it just doesn’t do anything for me.

UPDATE: Apparently, “NASCAR” must be shouted, and needs to be spelled in all caps. I’ve corrected my silly ignorance. (at least my silly ignorance in this matter)

Cool.

So, I proceeded to type “mellon” as the username and password. It didn’t work, so I tried, “Mellon” which didn’t work either. Then I tried, “melon” which is really elvish for “I Love” but could easily been confused. Nope. “Melon”? Nope.

Frustrated, I turned to google, to check my spelling, and I couldn’t find any other spellings. So, defeated, I IM’d him back, “Ok, how did you spell ‘Mellon’ ?”

To which he replied, “What is Mellon?”

I chuckled at myself, typed “friend” as the username and password, and got right in. It’s not the first time I’ve been the geekiest person in the room, and I’m sure it won’t be the last…

(Confused? Here ya go.)

Sitting at your desk, lift your right foot and make clockwise circles. While doing this, draw the number “6″ in the air with your right hand. Your foot direction will change to counter-clockwise, and you’ll quickly go insane. I’m sorry to be the one that leads you to the nut house, but misery loves company.

You’re welcome. MWAHAHAHAHAAAAA

So, like any filmmaker, I decided it was time to use makeup. Very macho and professional of me, right? Well, not so much. You see, I’m guessing when guys in the movies get themselves all painted up, they don’t use their wife’s makeup. In fact, I might bet some money on that. I, however, didn’t really have a choice.

In my attempt to wear “as little makeup as possible”, I spread the stuff on very thin. When you spread on makeup thin, however, you have to rub HARD. Which, for a fair complected bloke like myself, turns your skin red.

So picture me, with my wife’s makeup, poorly applied, and with my entire face beet red from rubbing. It did draw the attention away from the 2 ganky pimples on my forehead — but wasn’t really any improvement. So I had to apply more of my wife’s makeup. To cover up my mess.

Anyway, it turned out fine. I don’t think I’m going to leave the house before scrubbing my face like crazy, but really — who could ever find out?

If you want one, just click on the photo, it will take you to an online store. Please buy me one too, because there’s absolutely no way I could convince my wife it was a good idea.

When Donna started working with him, he was violent, disrespectful, and quite honestly, a little scary. Today, however, he did something that was so funny, I thought I’d share.

Normally, this young man swears like a sailor (no offense, my naval visitors). In the time that he’s been with my wife, however, that’s largely diminished. Today was proof. He’s not having a very good day, which is to say that he’s been challenging to manage. He got mad at Donna for something, but instead of actually swearing at her like he would have a month ago, he yelled, “You’re the ‘B’ word, you know that?!?!”

I know, for most kids, that would be horrible. But for this young man, it was the most restrained he’s ever been. She told me about it at lunch today, and it made me laugh. Sadly, the trial period for Donna is ending on Monday, and the position will go to a union member with the most seniority — but hopefully the stint with Donna will help the new aide. As long as she’s not a B word.

My issue, today, is with the commenters on that site. Have you ever read the comments? It’s painful. It angers me. It makes me want to punch things. Things like faces. (This might be partially due to my current sleep issues, but still, I don’t think I’d like it even on a good night sleep)

So anyway, the moral of the story? Cats can use poor grammar and spelling, and it’s funny. If you’re referring to an LOLCat, it’s sometimes funny to speak that way. If you’re trying to be funny by speaking like an LOLCat caption at inopportune times — even that can be funny.

If you try to carry on a conversation using LOLSpeak, you deserve to get punched in the face. My fist, let me show you it.

This blog entry was brought to you in part by caffeine! Are you having trouble staying awake? Are you tired of your heart beating at a regular pace? Just try all new “caffeine” in the new 24oz delivery system. Found at fine gas stations everywhere. Caffeine. Get yours today!

Bwahahahahaaa!

UPDATE: I just got one for “cocaine and nail polish remover”

What on earth am I posting to attract such a crowd?!?!

The Garfield comic was particularly appropriate today. I tend to have an intimate (not freaky) relationship with our own thermostat. Sorry I’ve been too busy this weekend to do all those things I hoped to do (I’m looking at you, Nathan) — maybe later on this evening. It’s just been a hectic couple days.

On a similar vein — have you seen Fawlty Towers? Absolutely hilarious, and definitely some of the best television ever produced. You need to see this show, really. It’s available on DVD, so you have no excuse. (Don’t whine about money — this comedy is more important than food I’ll have you know…)

Yes, penguin poop tastes good, albeit crunchy.

UPDATE: Make sure to check out the review.

Anyway, after school, we had to retake our Christmas photo, because in the last sitting, yours truly towered over the family like a middle aged totem pole. It looked silly. So, back to the scenic spot for our photo. It turned out nice, and if I hadn’t told you, you’d never know I’d thrown up shortly before the photo was taken:

After a dozen takes, we ended up with that charming shot you see above. Standing up that 12th time, however, proved to be more than I could handle, and I took a lovely little ride down the riverbank. I managed to catch myself before a full fledged swim was required, but it sure didn’t make my day any better. You’ll notice the snowy scenery? Yeah, that’s real. Real cold.

How was your day?

These types of cups are not designed for mug warmers. Also, fingernail polish remover does remove melted Styrofoam. You’re welcome.

Him: Hey, I’ve been learning Python

Me: Cool, the hisses are the hard part. Pythons are pretty forgiving with grammar, but Rattlers get TICKED if you mess up their tonal dialect…

Yep, I’m still a geek. I gotta love that he played right along though.

Astronauts to Inspect Space Station Joints in Spacewalk

I don’t think they should be smoking marijuana on the space station at all. Call me a prude if you will, but I have to draw the line somewhere.

That said, are the laws the same once you leave the planet? If an astronaut kills another in space, is it illegal? How far do our laws extend? Yes, these are the things I think about…

Here’s the problem: I’ve never seen the show, and I don’t have satellite TV, so I probably won’t be able to watch it before next week when I’m supposed to call in. So, cross your fingers for me that I won’t look like a moron. I’m going to try to find a way to watch an episode or two before next week, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to swing it. I might just have to wing it.

And here’s the direct links for those who can’t see the embedded videos on the Linux Journal site. Watch this first, and then this.

Enjoy!

A (micro)chip off the old block.

I’m Linux Journal‘s new, “Gadget Guy” — and I do video reviews of products for them. The first video is up, and depending on the feedback they get, I will be a continuous feature on the Linux Journal website. So like, go watch it and stuff. And tell your friends. And neighbors. And people you meet at the grocery store. And tell the Santa at the mall. Email your congressman a link.

Well, at least go watch it. It’s not a dry product review, I promise. Just click on the picture above.

The truth of the matter is that the axial tilt of the Earth is the reason for the season. Or any season for that matter.

I’m just sayin’…

UPDATE: If you have a T-Shirt that says, “The Axial Tilt of the Earth is the Reason for the Season” — I might buy one.

So is the truth less exciting than you’d hoped, or more far fetched than you’d imagined? Either way, feel free to keep eating turkey sandwiches.

My guesses are:

1. I’m expected to “fix” the state Lotto, or
2. Manage a football team, or
3. Eradicate all signs of the metric system in door-taped notes

I can’t even think of more snark. The note completely perplexes me. I’m not opposed to being perplexed mind you, but this level of perplexedness is rather uncommon. I anxiously await your interpretations.

UPDATE: Apparently, comments are now broken for this post. I don’t know why. If you can’t comment, I apologize. I’ll try to figure it out later…

UPDATE2: Fixed. Dunno what the deal was.

UPDATE: Oh, and for the first time in my life, I can say “Union” without getting a little vomit in the back of my throat. It’s nice.

Anyway, today, we had an after school gaming program. Thankfully, I just happen to have some recent experience on some free multiplayer games. Yep, there was a lab full of kids playing open source games, and loving it. No, they weren’t using Linux — but hey, baby steps. At least all the students are familiar with Linux!

It went great, and it’s tied into tutoring of At-Risk kids, so it’s a win-win situation. Well, I didn’t win much, but the kids do.

UPDATE: Huh, 3 links to Linux Journal in one post. I’m feeling a bit like a fan boy. Here: Have a couple other links not related to Linux. (BTW, that Garfield comic is one of my favorites!)

Here’s a link to the original file, just in case you don’t like YouTube.

Just in case YouTube is blocked for you, here’s a direct link to the file. Download away!

If I couldn’t be a brown dwarf, I would want to be a star large enough to go supernova, because I think that’d be fun. I’d also want to be large enough to be a black hole, or at least a neutron star. I mean, that’s some cool stuff.

If I couldn’t be a star, I’d settle for a failed star, like Jupiter. At least it emanates light. It’s just so gassy, it seems a little lame. But I could have red storms and stuff. That’d be cool.

So if you could be a heavenly body, what would you be?

On the way home, Donna and our oldest were discussing the odd accent the Urgent Care doctor had. His name sounded Latino, but his accent almost sounded European. As Donna and I considered a Portuguese or other South American possibility, from the back seat, our 6 year old piped up. She said in the thickest, cheesiest, most “I can’t believe a 6 year old said that,” accent:

“Maybeee he was Frrrrench.”

I laughed so hard I almost had to pull the car over. As a bonus, for the next few hours my entire family spoke with fake French accents. For some reason, mine came out as a woman’s voice. I’ll pretend it was on purpose.

I just ate a whole box of maple candy. A whole box. A whole box.

A whole box.

I’m rather wired now. Yep. Quite a bit. WEEEEEE!!!!

I think this is what schizophrenia feels like. HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!!!

AAAAAHHHHHHH HHAAAAAHAAAAHAAAA!

Sometimes the swarm is so bad that I want to gouge out my eyes, and this morning, that almost happened. I was innocently browsing some websites, and BAM, a fly few into my eye.

I didn’t know until this morning, but fruit flies are filled with some sort of industrial grade acid. I thought I was going to die. I yammered about my office, crying and moaning. I rubbed the bug guts from my face, and realized I couldn’t even go out looking for pity. I mean, it’s a fruit fly. Who’s going to feel sorry for me because a fruit fly flew into my eye.

Maybe I should lie and say it was a June Bug... They’re freakishly huge.

Lizzie said, “Mommy! Mommy! I couldn’t get my blue slushie open, so Sammie helped me. It was really hard to get open, and when she opened it it spilled all over her and me and the table. It’s a real mess. I’m sorry Mommy!” (all in one breath, mind you)

Donna said, “It’s OK sweety. Let’s go clean it up. Sometimes those Kool-Aid bottles can be hard to open. It must have gotten pretty cold to turn your Kool-Aid into a slushie, huh?”

“No, Mommy, not my drink. The blue slushie in the bag. I couldn’t get it open, so Sammie helped me.”

“Honey, we didn’t pack you a slushie. What bag are you talking about?”

“Mommy, the bag with the blue slushie inside. In my lunch bag. The slushie!”

Donna realized what happened, and after a moment of horror and panic replied, “Sweetheart, that wasn’t a slushie. That was the cold pack to keep your lunch cold…”

Yes, we’re thankful for non-toxic cold packs. Donna called Sammie’s parents to explain the “blue slushie” that was all over her shirt and pants. Unfortunately, Lizzie will now be eating a PBJ tomorrow.

At any given moment, you may or may not find it funny. Hehehe.

As you probably know, last week we went camping. It was a great week, but one of the things you notice more when you’re away is how often you go to the restroom. I’m actually on a blood pressure medicine that causes me to be quite the tinkle fairy. I go at least once every 90 minutes. It’s pathetic. I’m also one of the few men in the planet that washes their hands when they use the toilet, and the tired old electric hand dryer made for a lengthy potty time. (That thing took FOREVER to dry hands, half the time I just wiped my hands on my pants after washing them…)

This post is not about the hand dryer though. That irritation is nothing compared to one old man in the urinal next to me.

First of all, all men understand the basic public restroom etiquette. It’s instilled into us genetically. There should never have been an old man in the urinal next to me.

The problem started while I was doing my business. The offending old person clearly knew I was there. I’m a 6 foot tall 190 pound man. I was wearing a bright orange SpongeBob t-shirt. I’m hard to miss. Well, I thought I was hard to miss…

This man rushes to the urinal right next to me, and begins making “I have to pee really bad” noises. This violates several men’s room rules by itself, but the old man begins to haphazardly urinate wildly about his urinal space, and actually begins to SPLASH MY LEGS with his own piddle!!!

I had no idea what to do. I scooched over as far as possible, and hurried as best I could. When splashy splasherton was finally finished, I just stood there in shock. In retrospect, I still don’t know how I could have made the situation any better. I mean, I couldn’t even kill the man, because that would have brought attention to my motive: Wet leg.

The only good news is that campground restrooms have showers built into them. I walked directly from the urinal to the shower (grabbing some hand soap from the dispenser along the way), and proceeded to shower my legs.

Eiw.

Every morning, as I walked to the restrooms, I’d see people waiting outside the showers for their turn. Many were like me, pondering the shower to camper ratio, but a few were mortified at the presence of others. Most noticeable were the ladies in their 20s. No, I wasn’t cruising the campground bathrooms for chicks, they were noticeable because they so desperately didn’t want to be seen before they showered and “prepped.” The irony is that the utter horror on their faces made them stick out like a sore thumb!

I considered taking a photo, just to post it here — but I thought I might actually cause some young woman to implode out of mortified embarrassment. It seemed a bit cruel for vacation, so I refrained. Plus, I didn’t want to be the guy taking photos of women at the community showers. I mean, I don’t want to be that guy. Eiw.

• If you don’t have a junk drawer, where do you put your super glue, scotch tape, spare batteries, dried up ink pens, scissors, playing cards, poster sticky-tack, coupons, eyeglass screwdrivers, and old wine corks?
• Are junk drawers an American thing, or is the phenomenon international?
• What room does your junk drawer live in?
• What’s in your junk drawer?

So do tell! Inquiring minds want to know.
[audio:http://www.brainofshawn.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/08/whatthejunk.mp3]
Download me reading this post

The problem is that I LOVE Pop-Ice. I eat them all summer. I eat many of them at a sitting, and I go back for more. I ate 13 in one sitting today. Yeah, I know, that’s sad.

What are your favorite summer memories from childhood? Do you like Pop-Ice? If not, can I have yours?

1) I like to set my alarm clock to PM when it’s AM, and then set my alarm to go off in the PM. There’s no advantage to doing something silly like that, but I like it because it’s wrong and still works. For some reason, I like that.

2) Every time I’m outside at night, I point out stars or planets to whomever I’m with. Every member of my family can find Venus, and my kids race each other to locate the big dipper. My wife mockingly says, “look there’s Venus” whenever we get out of the van. I love her.

3) I generally reformat our home computer a couple times a year. I think it’s because I like things to be “clean” when it comes to the operating system. My wife really doesn’t like this. Really really. I tend to be a backup Nazi, so I generally don’t lose any files, but I’m lucky my wife is awesome, or I’d likely be single.

4) I don’t like to shave. This wouldn’t be a big problem, except that I also can’t grow a beard to save my soul. I look like a bum. In fact, if my wife didn’t refuse to kiss me after a week or so, I’d most likely look like a homeless man with a laptop.

5)

(I also leave things half finished.)
[audio:http://www.brainofshawn.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/08/8thingsidothatannoypeople.mp3]
Click to download the audio file.

Unless you’re a geek, you probably don’t get it. Trust me, it’s great.

Best part of Sysadmin Day for me? This video:

As a note — I would normally host files locally, but this one specifically says not to, so I just embedded a YouTube video of somebody else breaking the rules. So you know, I’m only a second hand party to lawlessness. Leave me alone. It’s my day.