A blast from the past.
kitten   March 29, 2002

From days long ago.. from uncharted regions of the universe.. comes a legend.
The legend of Voltron, Defender of the Universe.
A mighty robot, loved by good.. feared by evil.
As Voltron's legend grew, peace settled throughout the galaxy. On planet Earth, a Galaxy Alliance was formed. Together with the good planets of the solar system, they maintained peace throughout the universe..
..until a horrible new menace threatened the galaxy.
Voltron was needed once more.
This is the story of a super force of space explorers: specially trained, and sent by the Alliance, to bring back Voltron - Defender of the Universe.

It has come to my attention that not everyone is aware of the Voltron phenomenon. If you count yourself among them, read on:

Voltron was an anime-style cartoon from the early and mid eighties - although it bears little resembelence to what we would call anime today.

It told the story of five space explorers: Keith, the leader; Pidge, the boy genius; Lance, who was a lot like Friends' Chandler; Hank, the frat boy; and Sven, the roguish foreigner.

Every week, the bad guy - the same bad guy every time - would dispatch a robot monster to the planet of the space explorers (which, apparently, is Earth, but it's hard to say). These monsters were cleverly called Ro-Beasts.

Anyway, every time the monster showed up, the Voltron Force would jump into their respective robot lions - one for each team member, in various colors. They would take the lions and go fight the monster and invariably get their asses kicked all over the map.

Then one of them would say "We need Voltron!"

So the lions would go rocketing off into space - for some reason, this process could never take place at ground level where it would make sense - and the following speech would ensue:


"Time to form Voltron!
Activate interlocks!
Dynotherms connected!
Infracells up!
Megathrusters are go!"
This was accompanied by the same stock footage - every week - of the lions connecting with each other, folding this way and that, to form a giant robot named Voltron. Forming Voltron involved lots of lightning bolts, for some unexplained reason - lightning bolts in space, mind you.

At any rate, Voltron would then fight the monster for a while, and get his ass kicked too. Then someone would utter the magic phrase:

"Form Blazing Sword!"

And just like that, Voltron put his hands together, and then pulled them apart to reveal a sword. Voltron - still piloted by the individual team members of the lions, somehow - would then slash the monster to bits, usually in super slo-mo. The monster would emit a hideous shriek and explode.

That was the show. I watched this show religiously when I was little and I cannot recall a single episode that deviated - even slightly - from this plot. Same bad guy every time, then the lions get kicked around, then Voltron gets kicked around, then Voltron uses the sword. The only difference each week was the monster. Sometimes there were more than one monster, but usually not.

God, Voltron kicked ass. I loved that show.

I wonder if I can find it anywhere today. I'd like to have a few episodes.

..or maybe I could just get one episode and watch it over and over and over, since that's tantamount to owning the entire series anyway.

For God so loved the world..
kitten   March 26, 2002

Bryan, I know we've had our differences, but I just wanted to let you know that no matter what, Jesus is with you, always.

Have a blessed day.

Mental masturbation.
kitten   March 24, 2002

From American Beauty:

RICKY
It was one of those days when it's
a minute away from snowing and
there's this electricity in the
air, you can almost hear it, right?
And this bag was like, dancing with
me. Like a little kid begging me
to play with it. For fifteen
minutes. And that's the day I knew
there was this entire life behind
things, and ... this incredibly
benevolent force, that wanted me to
know there was no reason to be
afraid. Ever.

Versus, from Suburbia:


BEE-BEE
Hey, you said you did a video?

BUFF
Yup.

BEE-BEE
What's it about?

BUFF
It's really not about anything.

BEE-BEE
Oh. Well, what's it on?

BUFF
A cloud.

BEE-BEE
A cloud?

BUFF
Yeah. There was this cloud and I video taped it.

BEE-BEE
Oh.

BUFF
I was doing schrooms and I saw this cloud. It looks excellent on
tape. The video is like my head and, and everything, you know,
is, like, is like in there that I see. You know? Plus, I'm gonna
come down here one night and walk around inside the Circle A with
the camera and tape shit.

What's my point? you ask. Only this:

Anything, no matter how idiotic, can be embellished by the right amount of intellectual hubris. When we get down to it, Ricky and Buff did the exact same thing: pointed a camcorder at something relatively banal, and taped it.

Yet we're supposed to revere Ricky for being so bloody deep and meaningful, while quietly snickering at how lame Buff is.

Ricky didn't do anything special other than disguising his - pardon me - 'ordinary' and trite little piece behind an avalanche of artspeak and flowery prose about God. This proves nothing except that Ricky is better at rationalizing his action than Buff is..

..but in the final analysis, it's only that: a pithy rationalization. Nothing more. In the final analysis, Ricky is no better, no different at all, from Buff.

Some people need to get over themselves.

Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't take it, like my heart's going to cave in..
Versus
You think someone can spend half their life in the slam, with a horse bit in their mouth, and not believe? Think he could start out in some liquor store trash bin with an umbilical cord wrapped around his neck, and not believe? Youve got it all wrong, holy man. I absolutely believe in God. And I absolutely hate the fucker.
Have a nice day, kids.
First thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers.
kitten   March 23, 2002

Consider if you will the following laws, from the State of Georgia (but by no means unusual in the US):

16-6-18. Fornication.
An unmarried person commits the offense of fornication when he voluntarily has sexual intercourse with another person and, upon conviction thereof, shall be punished as for a misdemeanor.

16-6-2. Sodomy; aggravated sodomy.
(a) A person commits the offense of sodomy when he performs or submits to any sexual act involving the sex organs of one person and the mouth or anus of another.


Read them well.

Look at this. "Fornication". I guess that makes me a criminal. Actually, it makes almost everyone I've ever known, or even heard of, a criminal. Good thing it's a crime to have sex while unmarried - thank you, Big Brother, for protecting me.

How about "sodomy" - which includes, if you'll notice, oral sex? This is a crime? Would someone care to explain to me why this is a crime?

Sex laws, by and large, are unbelievably idiotic.

The "age of consent" laws are fairly stupid as well:

16-6-3. Statutory rape.
(a) A person commits the offense of statutory rape when he or she engages in sexual intercourse with any person under the age of 16 years and not his or her spouse;

Now, first of all, if the person is not a spouse, it's already a 'crime' as defined by the state. Why have a seperate law covering essentially the same thing?

It would be easy to argue at length the idiocy of having the state lay down a blanket law like that on everyone. When I was 15, I knew damn well what sex was, what the risks were, how it could affect me or the girl, and so on. I'm sure that plenty of people under the age of 16 are fully aware of the ramifications of sex, and are mature enough to say 'yay' or 'nay' on their own.
And on the other side of the coin, I know plenty of people my age and older who aren't anywhere near mature enough to handle sex.

But what's more interesting to me at the moment is how the state paints itself into ridiculous corners with it's own laws.

Let us consider two hypothetical people. John and Mary are both 15 years old. They have sex, and Mary gets pregnant and has the child.

Can the state hold John legally responsible for that child?

You bet they can - and they will. And they do.

So what?

On the one hand, the state claims that John is too young to understand sex, but on the other hand, claims that he is responsible for the outcome of his decision to have sex.

Does this make sense to anybody?

Interestingly enough, the state also sets the legal age of marriage at 14. So a 14 years old is - according to the state - mature enough to decide to get married, but not mature enough to decide to have sex.

Oh wait. Actually, the statutory rape law specifies that it's only statutory rape if the two people are not married. Apparently getting married will suddenly endow the 14 year old with the maturity necessary to make an informed decision about his/her sex life.

Uh huh.

Stupid fucking politicians. Get your heads out of your Puritan asses, plzkthx.

Main screen turn on.
kitten   March 22, 2002

It's becoming obvious that I need something better to do with my time.

No one shall dare oppose us now.
kitten   March 20, 2002

Work has been proceeding on the construction of a high-velocity railgun. Jimmy (aka Jimbo) and myself plan to complete it within a month or two. Although that is probably an overly optimistic estimate.

The railgun essentially consists of two steel 'rails' with an armature (in this case, BBs) briding the gap between them. Current is applied to the rails, and goes up one rail, across the armature, and down the other rail, which creates an enormous magnetic force and drives the armature forward at high speeds. We plan to use the power source from a computer to charge a capacitor bank that will deliver large pulses of current to the rails.

Seems simple, and it is - in principle. We'll likely run into major problems along the way. But we're having fun building it.

Further updates as events warrant.

Forty miles from the sun.
kitten   March 17, 2002

Unlike some people, I despise summer.

I hate it. I loathe and detest summer with every black shred of bile I can muster. I want to be very clear on this point: I am using the word "hate" about summer.

During summer, you can't walk outside without wanting to die - a hideous, pestilential heat that makes you feel like your skin is melting, sloughing off your body in waves. The bright, horrendous sun, beaming it's boiling light onto you and everything else, burning and scorching and hurting your eyes. 100% humidity, and every step you take leeches another precious bit of moisture from your body as you sweat from pores you didn't even know you had, rotting and stinking like a week-old corpse, while flies and clouds of gnats swirl around your face, your eyes, your ears; everywhere you look, vermin and insects on scale of Biblical plague proportions.

And I hate every smiling brainless half-wit who says they like summer. It's a lie - pure and simple. They get into their air-conditioned cars and drive to their air-conditioned homes or office, and they say they like summer. I say, you like this miserable heat so much, why do you turn the AC to 'Arctic Ice Blast'? Turn your air conditioner off; we'll see how much you like the summer then, eh. Put down your refreshingly iced beverage from Starbucks, put down that chilled bottle of water you carry around - then we'll see what's what. You don't like this miserable, consuming, nightmarish heat - you tolerate it because of internal climate-control technology, freon, ester oil, and Frappucino. Without these luxuries you'd be nothing more than a puddle of melted flesh on the broiling asphalt.

Fuck the goddamned summer, and to every nitwit that smiles at me from behind a cash register and says "Lovely weather eh?" as they wipe another bead of sweat from their foreheads, my stockphrase reply is succinct:

Go fuck yourself.

..then fall, Caesar.
kitten   March 15, 2002
CAESAR Who is it in the press that calls on me? I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music, Cry 'Caesar!' Speak; Caesar is turn'd to hear.

SOOTHSAYER. Beware the ides of March.

CAESAR. What man is that?

BRUTUS. A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.

CAESAR. Set him before me; let me see his face.

CASSIUS. Fellow, come from the throng; look upon Caesar.

CAESAR. What say'st thou to me now? speak once again.

SOOTHSAYER. Beware the ides of March.


. . . . .

CAESAR. I could be well moved, if I were as you; If I could pray to move, prayers would move me; But I am constant as the northern star, Of whose true-fix'd and resting quality There is no fellow in the firmament. The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks; They are all fire and every one doth shine; But there's but one in all doth hold his place. So in the world, 'tis furnish'd well with men, And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive; Yet in the number I do know but one That unassailable holds on his rank, Unshaked of motion; and that I am he, Let me a little show it, even in this; That I was constant Cimber should be banish'd, And constant do remain to keep him so.

CINNA. O Caesar-

CAESAR. Hence! Wilt thou lift up Olympus?

DECIUS. Great Caesar-

CAESAR. Doth not Brutus bootless kneel?

CASCA. Speak, hands, for me!

Casca first, then the other Conspirators and Marcus Brutus stab Caesar.

CAESAR. Et tu, Brute?- Then fall, Caesar!

Dies.

I hate myself for loving you.
kitten   March 13, 2002

It's sort of a dream under a steel sky that fades into a dusk of burning copper.

It's a kind of invitation: dim the lights, melt some ice. Something new from this city of heartbreaks, strung along the skyline like cables on a wayward stanchion.

It's like diamonds scattered over obsidian, tiny prisms of faded sparkles.

It's that sort of dream, with brassy streetlights and mercury-vapor attitude, full of quicksilver hopes dashed on an iron grate.

But I notice I'm dreaming it alone.

Meet me on 14th street. You remember the place.

Wide World Web!!11
kitten   March 11, 2002

Things what suck on the Interweb, compiled from a #mirrorshades discussion (hence the rather broken and odd sentence structure):

Spinning skulls or pentagrams.
Or dripping-blood underlines.
Or any Times New font over 12pt.
Anything blinking.
Animated letters flying into a mailbox.
Backgrounds that are tiled pictures.
Animated backgrounds.
Or the "Under Construction" signs.
Animated mailboxes.
Especially the stick figures shoveling dirt.
Stick figures with question marks over their heads.
Animated walking dinosaurs.
The worm in the hole.
Javascript cursors.
shrines to pets
Geocities.
Baby sites like www.alicecowan.com.
Livejournal.
Pages that haven't been updated since 1997.
Hit counters. BROKEN hit counters.
Oh yes, webring shit.
popup ads.
midis, especially of "The Wind Beneath My Wings".
"Greetz go out to SuprBabe13".
Clip Art.
Anything that bitches at you to download QuickTime.
Any bizarre fucking font.
Comic Sans MS!!!
frames.
Comet Fucking Cursor.
Popunders. Guestbooks. Falling leaves or snow. Rainbow horizontals.
"This site is still experimental some links might not work"

Christ, there should be a committee that checks this sort of thing and just EMP's the servers they're stored on. True, this would necessitate wiping the AOL, Geocities, Angelfire, and Livejournal servers, but would anyone really have a problem with that?

Anyone with a clue, I mean.

Billions and billions.
kitten   March 8, 2002

I recently picked up the late Dr Sagan's final book, Billions & Billions.

Carl Sagan rules. The first words in the book are "I never said that."

There's a lengthy section in which he discusses nuclear weapon proliferation.

We only did one or two 'nuclear detonation drills' when I was in elementary school, since relations with the Soviet Union were fairly stable at the time. I didn't know much about nuclear weapons in third grade, but I do remember thinking it was idiotic to 'duck and cover' behind a flimsy school desk, thereby delaying my vaporization by a good .004 seconds. Those desks could barely withstand the Awesome Destructive Power of a paper clip fired from a rubber band, yet we were supposed to use them as defense against nuclear explosions.

Anyway. I also remember thinking that it was overkill to have so many nuclear weapons. My father had explained the MAD principle to me, so I understood (as well as a third-grader could) why we needed them, and why it was difficult to just disarm, thereby giving the other side the advantage and destroying MAD.

So I had this great idea of a gradual nuclear disarmament. I thought that maybe Reagan and Gorbachev could pack up an equal number of nuclear weapons each year, put them on a boat, and sail out to the middle of the ocean, and together they'd both dump the missiles and bombs into the water. Then they'd shake hands and sail back to their respective countries, and do it again next year - before too long, both the US and the USSR would have gotten rid of most of their warheads.

I was in third grade, okay? Give me a break.

Stop looking at me like that.

He's the one they call Dr Feelgood.

If this doesn't solidify my geek leanings, nothing will:

[kitten> U HAVE TREAD ON MY DOMAIN & MUST NOW SUFFER
[kitten] WHO R U?
[Danelope] V1NC3 N31L
[kitten] ACID BURN SEZ LEAVE B4 U R EXPUNGED
[Danelope] N0 1M H3R3 2 SING DR. F33LG00D.
[kitten] 1 WILL CRUSH U L1K3 K3V1N M4CKL3
[Danelope] 1M G0NN4 CR4SH UR C0MPUT3R L1K3 4 S3GW4Y
[kitten] 4LL UR B453 4R3 B3L0NG T0 U5.
[Danelope] I C45T M4G1C M1$$1L3!
[kitten] Y 4R3 U C4ST1NG M4G1C M155L3? TH3R3'5 N0TH1NG T0 4TT4CK H3R3.
[Danelope] 1...1M 4TT4CK TH4 D4RKN355!
[kitten] H4 H4 H4 H4
[kitten] F1N3, F1N3. U 4TT4CK TH3 D4RKN355.
[kitten] TH3R3 15 4N 3LF 1N FR0NT 0F U.
[Danelope] \/\/H04
[kitten] H3'5 W34R1NG A BR0WN TUN1C 4ND H3 H45 GR4Y H41R 4ND BLU3 3Y35.
[Danelope] N0, 1 H4V3 GR4Y 3Y35.
[kitten] L3T M3 533 TH4T SH33T.
[Danelope] W3LL, 1T 54Y5 1 H4V3 BLU3 3Y35 BUT 1 W4NT3D GR4Y...
[kitten] WH4T3V3R. U GUY5 C4N T4LK 2 E4CH 0TH3R N0W, 1F U W4NT.
[Danelope] H3LL0.
[kitten] H3LL-0.
[Danelope] 1 4M G4LST4FF, S0RC3R3R 0F L1GHT.
[kitten] TH3N H0W C0M3 U H4D T0 C45T M4G1C M155L3?
[Danelope] H4 H4 H4 H4
[kitten] H4 H4 H4 H4 H4!

Actually, that's mind-bogglingly pathetic, isn't it?

Yay!
kitten   March 6, 2002

You've all been waiting for them, so here they are. Pictures of Molly, the Steppin' Razor.

Fascinated by a laser pointer.
Attacking a feather duster.
Being cute.
Attacking my boots.
Finishing off the boots.
Attacking the camera strap.

Christ, she's cute. I'd like to be really overboard and make an mp3 of her purring for everyone to hear, but I think I'll spare you.
Don't let her cuteness and small stature fool you, though - Molly is a trained razorgirl, with ten knife-sharp claws and a viciously wicked bite. She could eviscerate you like the worthless twig you are before you even had time to scream.
And then she'd probably attack her toy mice or something.

Also, the famous rolling banner ad, and a random shot of myself with a katana, looking stupid.