Pricing

Dear Little Caesars..

I would love to order your Pizza Kits and help out my fellow employees kids (ok ok i’d love to just eat your pizza, it’s good.)

But please price them consistently.

3 large pizzas, already cooked, in store costs me $15.

yet, when I cook them myself, it costs me $17.50

can you explain that?

January 6th, 2005

Some Observations about Search..

I want to talk briefly about Google, MSN, and Yahoo, and what they’re currently doing wrong.

First up, search for “NBA Draft”. You’ll notice the #1 site (#5 on google) is for the 2004 draft predictions.

This is clearly not relevant, and shouldn’t even be anywhere on page 1. The same was true for any NFL draft searches prior to this weekend.

Search seems to have a problem with date relevancy. How do you tell what’s relevant forever (internet slang, abraham lincoln, great wall of china, mesotheliomia, etc) and what’s relevant depending on time (NBA draft, mortgage rates, american idol, world series of poker)

It’s hard to tell just looking at a created date and a page updated date, but you guys have much more information than that..

You know how frequently the search volume changes. For example, you should be able to see that “nfl draft” searches peak in april, and that should signal a “hey this is current events, date is important” type flag. Matt Cutts, if you’re reading…. that’s for you.

Now, Bill Gates.. If you’re reading I’ve got some advice for you on how to crush Google (sorry Matt!)

Google is in an uproar about having MSN search the default (and Google not listed) in the new IE. But that’s thinking small..

What about an MSN search built into the desktop of Vista? Surely the lazy Joe 6-packs would use that over pulling up a browser right?

Speaking of desktop, it’s time you made that more web enabled anyway… but that’s another topic. For now, work on sorting out whether or not my searches are time relevant or not..

I don’t really care much about the 2004 draft prospects.

January 6th, 2005

Reflections on Suicide

Have you ever thought about killing yourself before? If so, have you actually acted on that thought? Did you succeed?

I know I?ve thought about it before, and I think to an extent we all have. A few of us have even made an attempt or two, thankfully to no avail. I?m glad those years are behind me now.

Each year in the United States roughly 25,000 people succeed in killing themselves. About 10 times this many however unsuccessfully try. In fact, suicide seems to be quite the popular trend among celebrities. Marilyn Monroe, Ernest Hemingway, Cleopatra, Cobain, Jack London etc. We can even ad Hitler, Samson, and Jim Jones to the list if we want.

Most religions regard suicide as a sin. I ask then, why do some cultures actually romanticize it? From Japanese Hara Kari to the ancient days of the Romans, suicide has actually been looked up to. To quote Seneca, a first century Roman stoic:

Living is not good, but living well. The wise man, therefore, lives as well as he should, not as long as he can?He will always think of life in terms of quality, not quantity? Dying early or late is of no relevance, dying well or ill is?Even if it is true that while there is life, there is hope, life is not to be bought at any cost.

Or, to quote one of my favorite country singers ?There?s a difference in living, and living well?. That makes sense to me. Why prolong a live that is not worth living?

That, in turn raises another question which I hope to shed some light on. Yes, I?m talking about the ethical quandaries involved with taking your own life. After all it?s YOUR life right? When you get down to it, isn?t it really the only think that?s truly yours; to do with what you please?

If I make a rational decision to take my own life, who are you to stop me? (not that ?I? am considering it) It?s my life right? It?s a pretty tight argument, but there?s one key word in there worth considering: rational .

I prepared an argument for this point, but after browsing the web I found a much better way to present this. Let?s look at some actual suicide notes. (of course I?ve removed anything identifying the people who wrote them. Some are famous, some aren?t.)

When many people think of suicide they think of romantic final words in a tear-jerking note left for loved ones. A note that reads like a message from beyond the grave. Notes like:

? there should be no sadness, and no searching for who is at fault; for the act and result are not sad, and no one is at fault. My only sorrow is for my parents who will not easily be able to accept that this is so much better for me. Please, folks, it?s all right, really it is.?

Or

?I wanted to be too many things, and greatness besides ? it was a hopeless task. I never managed to really love another person ? only to make the sounds of it. I never could believe what my society taught me to believe, yet I could never manage to quite find the truth.?

Or

?2:15 pm ? I?m about to will myself to stop my heartbeat and respiration. This is a very mystical experience. I have no fear. That surprises me. I thought I would be terrified. Soon I will know what death is like ? how many people out there can say that??

But seriously, how common are such notes? The previous examples are, in their own right, creative, unique, beautiful (for lack of a better word) pieces of writing that delve into the writer?s soul.

Alas, many real suicide notes are not like this. They are more practical and to the point, such as a last will, or a list of instructions to be carried out. Some are straight to the point, like the one man who before hanging himself in a barn wrote on the outside wall with chalk: ?sorry about this, there?s a corpse in here. Please inform the police.?

You?d think that if somebody were going to end it all they?d leave behind a more poetic legacy, something to be remembered by right? But when you get down to it, the suicidal person isn?t very rational to begin with. They?re usually depressed, down, panic stricken, or hysterical. How could their thoughts be clear?

So what exactly is it that makes up their mind? How and when do they decide it?s time to end it all? What goes through their mind as they sit there, fire up the word processor, spew out some rhetorically witty banter, carefully aim the steel barrel down their throat and BAM!

1 comment January 1st, 2005

Icon: Crash

Oh Jesus fucking Christ it?s cold. It?s cold and I?m freezing and I?m still seeing shit.

I burst from the ground level fire exit, alarm shrieking my transgression into the night. My heartbeat fills my head like a drum kit and I try to take in what the fuck?s just happened. But I can?t. I can only think to move. My instinct, an instinct so far removed from animal it might be mechanical, tells me to head to Corning Street, where the traffic and bright lights are. There?s safety in the madness.

I dig what?s left of my fingernails into the cement walls as I stumble, arrows of light lashing out and biting my face every time I flick my eyes. The honey-sick glow of rushing traffic was the only beacon I had. In the midst of my flight, I kept seeing Lindsey falling head over heels in love, not with me specifically but just in love. Love for the drug, love for the fall. Just love.

I chance a look over my shoulder and see no one, but with the acid still fucking my eyes over it?s impossible to tell what begins and what ends. Oh shit, this is the worst night of my life, again.

I bump into something and a volcano of yellow and blue erupts in my face.

?Hey! The fuck?s going on, man!??

I stop and take two wide steps back, knees bend and my arms out at my sides. Like some sort of bizarre fighting stance. I stopped screaming in my mind for a second and focused on the barrier ahead.

Oh shit.

It?s Gary. Gary fucking Herbert. The guy who fucked my mother.

He?s in college now? What the hell; he couldn?t have possibly graduated yet. It?s impossible. That much time couldn?t have passed. Couldn?t have. Couldn?t have?

I was now slipping between two depressions, my sanity screaming like shorn metal amongst the emotional chaos in my mind. I clutched my head and said the only words a murderer tripping on acid can.

?Fugah gah ha ba ba.?

I lurched forward and stumbled pass him, using his shoulder as a crutch. Gary grabbed my fucking arm and turned me around. Oh Jesus, why?

?Icon! It?s me, Gary!?

?Yeah. Yeah, that?s good. Hi Gary.?

?What the hell?s going on? Are you drunk??

?Far from it, Gary. I?m actually completely fucked up on LSD and seeing all sorts of? of shit. Shit.? I rip my arm from his grip and set down on a plant bunker, the ice cold concrete a strange relief.

?Acid?? Gary asked in what he must have thought was disbelief. I nod an affirmative. This fucker. Jesus almighty. There?s millions of assholes in the world that I could have bumped into. And God, like the clever son of a bitch that he is, God sees fit to let me have a little reunion with my mother?s fetish. Thanks God. Thank you ever so.

WHOOP WHOOP

I jump up and look around. The effects are starting to wane. The colors aren?t smudging as bad as before. On the university road behind us an ambulance lumbers by. Here comes the fucking calvary, time to save some lives. Look at us, so very important. We do an important job, yes we do. Look at us, we?re big fucking heroes! Don?t you love us?

?Dude, where?s your dorm? I?ll walk you back.?

?No. No I can?t go back Gary.?

?Why can?t-??

?I can?t go back. I pushed her off the goddamn roof.?

?You what?? Brilliant acting, Shatner. ?Pushed who off the roof??

?I?m going now. See you later, have a nice life.?

?Wait!? He grabbed my fucking arm again.

?Gerroff me!? I jump up and down and shake him off. ?Fucking moron! Idiot!? I stumble backwards, sneering at him, at his greasy face, his Buddy Holly glasses, his shitty Abercrombie and Fitch hair style. Fuck you, buddy.

?Icon! Stop! Watch out!?

?Ha ha ha!? Why I laughed, I don?t know. It wasn?t the drugs, it wasn?t how he looked. It just felt so right to laugh at the time. I leered at him and turned around into the face of a ?98 gray Ford Taurus.

A solid force drives into my right side and sends me spinning, rolling on the road. Horns shriek and tires squeal. Crash, thump, bang, cars are piling up. I roll three times before stopping, my face turned to the bitter cold asphalt. A sharp breeze picks up and blows under my now untucked dress shirt and shows my bare ass to the entire world.

It is so fucking cold, man. I?m not lying.

This is the third car accident I?ve been in now, only this time I wasn?t in a car. And this time I?m going to walk away with something broken. Well, I wouldn?t be walking. It?s at this time people are leaping out of their cars to save the fucking day, each and every one of them with their ?compassionate? faces on. The strong men rolling up their sleeves and turning me over, grabbing my face and asking, ?YOU OKAY BUDDY ARE YOU OKAY WHAT HAPPENED WHY DID YOU KILL LINDSEY CAN YOU HEAR ME HOW MANY FINGERS AM I HOLDING UP.? I decide to remain silent and just let society take it?s course.

And there?s fucking Gary! Hello, jackass!

?Icon! Icon are you-??

?SHUT THE FUCK UP.? I close my eyes and writhe in the pain. ?ALL OF YOU,? I added for good measure.

The wind?s blowing, horns are honking, people are talking. One of the paramedics from the ambulance finally gets over here and starts doing his hero work, yes, nice job, Doctor Shitbrain.

I?m loaded up on a trolley at last with some ridiculous bind around my right arm made from some sweet gentleman?s jacket who?s now going to heaven for his sacrifice. The stars begin to return to the sky and I think if I close my eyes long enough, I?ll wake up and things will be better. Warmer at least.

?Mister Rosenburg??

Oh shit.

I open my eyes and see a copper in his winter best.

?Mister Rosenburg, I?m officer Edwin, Springfield police department. If you are able to answer I would like to ask you some questions concerning another accident that just happened nearby.?

?MY ARM.? I scream, throwing my head back. ?MY FUCKING ARM. JESUS IT HURTS.?

Edwin leans back and tucks his lips, nodding at a paramedic to take me away. That?s right, loser. Just go away and be a hero somewhere else.

I?m rolled into the back of an ambulance and the paramedics join me, knocking the side of the vehicle as a signal to go. Gary pops his goddamn head through the doors before they?re closed.

?Icon! I?ll come visit you at the hospital!?

?Do you mind!??

The doors slam shut and the walls begin to wobble. We?re on our way to the hospitial. I close my eyes.

And there?s Lindsey again, falling in love.

January 1st, 2005

The Blank Sessions

It?s a jam for the ladies and a superstar, I could lead the whole set but never go too far.

It?s a jam for the ladies and a superstar, I could lead the whole set but never go too far.

Helmeted head bouncing in rhythm, the android rabbit strutted down the boardwalk, the Oceans of Infinite Space consuming the metaphysical sands of Catharine?s seaside estate.

His helmet displayed varied sets of alphanumeric symbols, none with any discernable patterns, and seemingly a result of unhindered controls.

The android stops suddenly and faces the Oceans, metal hands placed in front of himself. His helmet turns towards you, a smiley displayed in the visor.

?Ah! The unit welcomes you, sir, madam, or child.? The smiley fades and it turns to the Oceans again. The Oceans are violet and filled with stars and galaxies; a thick soup of celestial bodies with no real end or beginning.

?The unit is amazed that a thing such as you is capable of finding this place.? It pauses and the pattern AA6*%n appears in it?s visor, then scrolls away. ?We are located in a reach of the Infinite that no machine ever built by man, in the past or in the distant future, could ever discover. How strange it is that, despite your innate primitiveness, you and a number of others are capable of coming here.? It turns to you again; it?s visor blank. ?Though, you are not really here, of course. You just think you are.?

On the sands below the board walk, a collie walks down the beach, slowly, looking only ahead. It?s nose not to the ground, or eyes to the mellow pink-blue skies above, but looking ahead, as though drawn by a lure of some sort. Not even the living universe lapping at it?s dry paws culls any attention from it.

?Where ever here is, of course. To be honest, the unit still does understand the nature of this place.? The somewhat audible music the android is playing slowly fades, as though it has to turn it?s resources to deeper thought. Pennyroyal cautiously lifts it?s right metal hand and places it on the wooden railing, the segmented joints in it?s fingers gripping it almost perfectly, the helmet turning to look at it. ?I can touch things. I know that this railing is physical. This is because the unit is equipped to detect objects on it?s pressure nodes.? A sloppy lap from the Infinite fills the expected pause. ?To put it in simpler terms, I know the railing is real because? I can touch it.?

Pennyroyal takes it?s hands from the railing and places it over it?s steel heart. ?I?? The android breathes the word, betraying it?s mechanical moorings. The collie has seated itself in the shallows of the Infinite, looking into the impassable beyond. It?s fur melds with the stars and distant planets. It has a mournful look on it?s small face.

?The self. Perhaps the only real tool a human uses to interact with the world. Perception. Dignity. Hope. Humans feel danger. Love.? The hand rolls itself into a fist and a spark leaps from the helmet. ?Emotion.?

The collie dips it?s head into it?s bushy chest, mouth lost inside the furriness.

?The question, ?What?? is the question that drives man to explore his world, and to question it. What is this I am seeing? What is this I am touching? What is this I am hearing? What is real? What is unreal??

Pennyroyal looks up suddenly, the pistons in his neck wheezing. ?What is real?? it asks, this time non-rhetorically. It spreads it?s arms and looks up. ?What is real??

A tear drops from the collie?s big brown eye, rolling down the matted fur and into the Infinite, where it swirls and twitches, forming a new galaxy.

?I am talking to you. I can hear myself talking to you. You do not respond. I touch this railing. It does not respond. If I die, how will this world respond to me??

The android drops his arms and looks to the Oceans again. ?If I die!??

The collie stands again, staring at the amorphous Infinite. It puts a paw forward, splashing the infinite and causing thousands of implosions and collapsing stars. It treads forward, determined but steady.

?I? Die? Real? What are these things to an android!? Why should it matter now, on this day, in this place that does not exist!??

Pennyroyal hunches brings it?s metal hands to fists and he hits his helmet with them, a wheezing, straining sound coming from it?s vocoder. ?OH NO.? It twitches violently. The helmet scrolls a quick series of multicolored alphanumeric characters, the occasional English word appearing.

Pennyroyal turns from the infinite and towards the estate sitting on a distant cliff. Storm clouds roll over from it, like a preemptive attack. Lightening calls and thunder responds.

?WHY??

The collie is now chest deep in the Oceans, it?s body slowly being over taken by the channels. In a brief second, it disappears and reappears, now peacefully paddling through the Oceans, inside the invisible waters of the Infinite, growing smaller as it paddles away, to the deep unreachable darkness, never to be seen again.

Pennyroyal drops suddenly, machinations in it?s robot body whining and squealing. It?s vocoder shrieks static as a real voice struggles to over come the steel prisons of efficiency. The android rolls to it?s side, helmet no longer alive with the cryptic messages it was lighting earlier. His right hand spins violently for a second before stopping in an awkward position.

?What am I??

January 1st, 2005

Reader Submission

the following was sent in by ScrewTape

Which are you?

In the process of a random online conversation last night, through myriad paths of drug induced discourse (yes folks, boredom is a drug) I happened to be drawn into a discussion that forced me to articulate something that I?ve long felt but never really put words to. Although no great treatise on the human condition, I did feel it was interesting enough to warrant a bit of spit n? polish and possibly the attention of others. Now, to be quite honest I?m not exactly sure how the topic was broached but basically it came down to what I feel is a major separation in our species. Specifically what it is that makes us all human but only some of us people. Before we go into it any further I?ll go ahead and tell you that for most of you, when I say person or people you?re hearing something different than what I mean. So bear with me if it?s a bit confusing in the beginning, we?re going to try and remedy that.

I feel that the difference between a human and a person is a step in evolution. Although some might argue it?s spiritual (and it very well may be) I like to think of it as an evolution of the mind. A step forward in mentality. Essentially it breaks down into this. We?re all born as animals, that is the first thing we are and the first thing we will always be. This, to me, is a human. An animal and nothing more. As an animal we are gifted with a set of senses and for this discussion we?ll only take into consideration the five that are universally accepted. Sight, smell, hearing, touch, and taste. In no particular order. Now through these senses we have the ability to perceive our world and gather together a great tome of vast and nearly inexhaustible knowledge. This I believe, is where the split has its roots.

As our personal lexicon of knowledge increases we begin putting together pieces here and there, building scales and forming patterns. The ever changing scales and patterns we create are then used to measure ourselves and the world we inhabit. This is how we grow (mentally) and the standard by which we judge maturity. Many believe, myself among them, that it is the application of this knowledge that is acquired and tempered through experience that constitutes wisdom. Wisdom being nothing more than a deeper and more thorough understanding of what it is that we perceive as humans. To carry that a step further, maturity (the level of our mental growth) is roughly equivalent to the amount of wisdom we possess as individuals. Still with me?

So then, imagine humanity on a sliding scale of mental evolution. Those at the top being the most wise (enlightened) and those at the bottom the least (unenlightened) and in between, scattered throughout this amazing panorama of humanity, we have all manner of folks in various stages of wisdom/maturity. This is where the split becomes apparent. As we watch, a small number of those visible in our microcosm move up, a few move down, but the great majority sits nearly immobile. Stagnant. So we have three distinct and separate groups. Ones evolving (rising, moving forward, advancing), some devolving (sinking, retrograde motion, retreating), and then the largest group of all barely moving in any direction, mostly just being (hovering, standing, shiftless). In seeing this we can venture to say that in real-time the greatest indication of which group someone belongs to is their behavior. The ability, or more often willingness, to re-prioritize their instinctual impulses of want/need and weigh more complex matters into their decision making thought processes. Ergo, those who are more enlightened tend to be less likely to fall prey to the petty emotional (animalistic) indulgences such as greed, jealously, and hatred that we, as humans, still practice almost religiously on a daily basis. This is truly what separates mankind. The rift between being a human, and being a person.

And that?s it, how I view the sad predicament of my fellow humans. It isn?t anything new, I?m sure it?s been said many times before in much more eloquent ways but up until this evening I?ve never taken the time personally to really dissect it and study what I believe. Now, I?m not claiming to be right, I?m intelligent enough to understand that right and wrong are mostly perceptual and I?m in no position to judge the merit of either. This is merely meant to be a statement of what I believe to be the reason for many of our differences and the problems that arise thereof. As animals we are truly magnificent specimens. Creatures worthy of praise in our ability to not only adapt and survive, but to flourish under any conditions. However, as enlightened beings, as people, we still leave much to be desired.

January 1st, 2005

Rouge

I just watched Moulin Rouge and can I just say that it is one of the worst films I have ever seen. Although I am surprised that we do not see more Hollywood films based on the concept of “all we need is love” I am still shocked when they rely on the concept of love to hide the obvious flaws of the main characters.

Okay, a bit of background: the Good Guy, Christian, is in love with the Heroine, Satine. The bad guy, The Duke is also in love with her. Towards the end of the film we see that Satine pretends to not love Christian (to stop him getting killed) and Christian has to bear the heartbreak of a girl who pretended to love him. We feel a massive amount of sorrow for Christian, who is under the impression that Satine was never in love with him, and was just toying with him. What a horrible thing to feel – that a girl only pretended to be in love with him.

Hello? Did we miss something here? The same fucking thing happened to the Duke earlier in the film. He was in love with Satine and she pretended to be in love with him back so that they could steal his money. And suddenly he’s the bad guy? Why?

Yes, he did try to buy her instead of falling in love that traditional way (through song apparently) but then again she is a whore, and she was there to be bought. And besides, even though she was completely in love with Christian, and could never go through with sleeping with The Duke, she still had no problems whatsoever with taking his money.

I guess it is all to do with what traits the characters posses. We all knew that The Duke was evil as soon as we realised he was rich and ugly. Christian, on the other hand, had the virtues of being talented and good looking, signifying to us straight away that he is the hero that can do no wrong.

January 1st, 2005