This collection maintained by and are copyright © 1991-2021, Faisal N. Jawdat, email@example.com. Please read the about page for details.
You are very quickly inured to the charms of pre-industrial village life. Whenever someone says the word community, I want to reach for an oxygen mask.
I remember the Seventies -- clearly. They sucked!... The only good thing that came out of the Seventies was sex, and I was too young. And I'm pissed!
To say that UNIX is doomed is pretty rabid, OS/2 will certainly play a role, but you don't build a hundred million instructions per second multiprocessor micro and then try to run it on OS/2. I mean, get serious.
I would like to suggest that you not use speed, and here's why: it is going to mess up your heart, mess up your liver, your kidneys, rot out your mind. In general this drug will make you just like your mother and father.
If you do bad things in the vicinity of a rock and roll record, chances are you were sick before you got there.
Most rock journalism is people who can not write interviewing people who can not talk.
Politics is the entertainment branch of industry.
Science is moving closer to weaponry, and Art is moving closer to commercialism. And never the twain shall meet.
The language and concepts contained herein are guaranteed not to cause eternal torment in the place where the guy with the horns and pointed stick conducts his business.
Writing about music is like dancing about architecture.
You can't be a real country unless you have a beer and an airline. It also helps if you have some kind of a football team, or some nuclear weapons, but at the very least you need a beer.
You mention a "contemporary method" where govenment interest is subject o business interest and whistfully wish for the "good ol' days" when the idealism of the people movitated the government into creating policy which buisiness dutifully followed. I personally wish whistfully for the days when occasionally a tooth would come loose from my jaw and then after being deposited under my pillow a magic faery would visit me and replace it with a dollar bill.
I must say, though, that it feels good to be resigning from AOL instead of resigning from Netscape. It doesn't really feel like quitting at all.
I'd just like to take this moment to point out that C has all the expressive power of two dixie cups and a string.
My one purpose in life is to serve as a warning to others.
Oh, by the way, you may have noticed that the first picture on this page, the one of the striped hallway, has a nasty moir´ pattern in the carpet. That's not just an artifact of the image; the carpet in this place really looks like that. Especially late at night. After you've been here for enough hours, it seethes and writhes at you as you walk down the hall, skittering away from your feet, taunting you, whispering at you, telling you to do horrible things to your coworkers in its quiet, insistent voice. Or maybe that's just me.
Personally I think you and your fang-wearing D&D-playing pals pretty well embody the Jungian "wanker" motif. Yeah, I got your Dark Gift right here, buddy.
To a database person, every nail looks like a thumb.
Using these toolkits is like trying to make a bookshelf out of mashed potatoes.
Your "use case" should be, there's a 22 year old college student living in the dorms. How will this software get him laid?
at school we were going to set up a subdepartment of the fashion police devoted to ticketing men who attempted to grow facial hair without a permit... hippie school = many 18 year old boys who looked like they'd wiped their mouths on a weasel after eating something particularly sticky
i have never seen so much blatant irresponsiblity masquerading as free-thinking in one place at one time... and it's not even *pretty*
I smoke a few more cigarettes, then two women approach me. "What is your company?" says the bolder of the two. "I've never heard of it." "It's a personal site," I say. She brightens. "Oh, you mean like dating services?" "No, I mean there's no company, it's just me. It's entertainment for the Web." "Ah. Who supplies your entertainment content?" "I do. I supply the entertainment content." She says, "What is your revenue model?" I say, "I don't have one." The women giggle as if I've said something witty. They cover their mouths like children. We exchange business cards.
The Middle East is a cauldron of hatred and violence, children go hungry all over the world, and Network Solutions continues to exist.
Computer Science - as a field, we're like that asshole teenager next door.
Dear DEC, Sending me the README from the patch is not going to fix my problem. It will only anger me. Much like waving a steak just out of reach of a hungry bear. Yer buddy, jim
Dibs on killing the first person to post, "I eased my high-capacity disk drive into her warm velvet love pocket, after first lubricating it with rich, creamery butter."
I want a workstation named asdfjkl, so it's easy to type the name.
If you choose not to live in a cluster, uh, dorm...
If you've got a five-disc changer with a "shuffle" button, you can pretend that Pittsburgh has a radio station that DOESN'T SUCK.
It's like knowing there will be a train wreck, except without the guilt.
Of course it has civilian applications. You might wanna kill your friends, someday.
PS The moral of this story is: if you're spending hours packing in a hot apartment, and the only drink you have cold is a new three liter bottle of wine, instead of drinking the whole bottle, go buy gatorade.
<your scream here>
Although written many years ago, Lady Chatterley's Lover has just been reissued by the Grove Press, and this pictorial account of the day-to-day life of an English gamekeeper is full of considerable interest to outdoor minded readers, as it contains many passages on pheasant-raising, the apprehending of poachers, ways to control vermin, and other chores and duties of the professional gamekeeper. Unfortunately, one is obliged to wade through many pages of extraneous material in order to discover and savour those sidelights on the management of a midland shooting estate, and in this reviewer's opinion the book cannot take the place of J. R. Miller's 'Practical Gamekeeping.'
ok, ok... so I miss quoted, I'm tired, my short term memory is off...
Set Theory is one of those "one of those type things" type things.
If we set up a system that is optimized for surveillance, this government may not and probably won't use it. But then another government comes to power, one that sees the potential to use their 'keys' to destroy their opponents. It could be the last government we ever elect.
In the nuclear freeze movement, it was like I was a flea on the back of a dinosaur. Now I feel like I'm a hamster on the back of a dinosaur. Or maybe a poodle.
And if we do act, in however small a way, we don't have to wait for some grand utopian future. The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory.
The straight-faced answer is that I'm Martian. They don't have a box for me on the census form. I'm the write-in candidate that the government leaves no space for when you have to choose your race. Seriously, is race something you choose? The whole point is that I don't choose it. It is somebody else's shortcut to my soul. So journalists ask "what's your background?" like I'm supposed to retell someone else's story about me as though it's a fact of who I am and where I come from. As long as I talk about myself in fiction that someone else wrote, I might as well write my own fiction: I'm from Mars. Most believe the story that I'm a black mulatto.
Sex and academic research complement each other nicely, since you can do either one while thinking about the other.
Does it make you kind of mad that you have to reason with me while I'm wearing this enormous balloon hat?
Duct tape is like the force...it has a light side and a dark side, and it holds the universe together.
You've read the book. You've seen the movie. Now eat the stew!
Set Theory is one of those "one of those type of things" type of things.