Fiascoes, Travesties, and Faux Pas: How I Roll

A Reasoned Response, Irresponsible Pseudoscience, and Canadian Sex

2011-10-04T09:49:00.000-07:00

Today, I read a wired.com article that drove me instantly all "frothy-at-the-mouth" with complete and utter disbelief.

Go and read the article. I'll wait here.

Back?

Splendid.

First, a caveat: I have NOT read the full PNAS article as it is really, really expensive, but I read the abstract and the supporting documents (link ibid) and a couple of so-called analysis spread around the intarwebz.

While you are there, be sure to click on the "Author Affiliations" link.

First, let me say that i am not a knee-jerk hater of all that is Quebecois(e). I'm not. I like that they keep jazz and gravy-covered french fries alive. Everything else...<Ironic Gallic shrug here>. Be that as it may, my eyebrow is slightly raised in noting that all of the "scientists" here appear to be from Quebec.

As you know from clicking on my links, the meat of the subject is that on this small island in the Gulf of St Laurence, women's age of successful first parturition has gone from 26 to 22. And they have tails. (one of these is not exactly true)

Seriously, really?

Let's talk for a minute about a man named Occam. 'Ole Billy O was a monk during the 14th century. After pissing off the Pope at Avignon, fleeing to Germany, getting excommunicated, mixing with pinko commie dissenter bastards (He was in favor of clerical poverty), and refuting the long-held Platonic ideal of forms, he wrote on a subject about simplicities in proof. This later became "Ockham's Razor" (they didn't invent spelling for several hundred years after his death). This principle, in Latin, is called Lex Parsimoniae, or "Law of frugality".

Most people screw up the concept of Occam's Razor. They get the general idea, but fail to see the whole, beautiful structure. Essentially, Ockham argued that in dialectic proof (arguments) one should tend to ward simplicity and then, only if needed, add complexity. This doesn't mean that the simplest solution is the answer. Not at all. Well, it can...never mind. What it means is that to FIND the solution, start by asking simple questions. This is somewhat simplified, but accurate enough for the conversation at hand. In popular writing, Sherlock Holmes' method was the embodiment of this ideal.

Back to the point:

So four or five French-ish scientists decided that because women were popping out their first kid at slightly earlier ages over a huge period in time (we are ignoring that the age differential is well within the margin of error for the statistics) that they are somehow evolving (differentiating) from the genestock surrounding them.

And no one bothered to think about several simpler explanations:

1) Socioeconomic factors, including valid reporting of birthdays.

Most people don't realize that basic vital statistics weren't taken even remotely seriously by governments until fairly recently. This used to be the purview of the community's church(es). Which brings me to the next sub-point -
The Catholic Church's position on married sex has changed wildly in the last hundred years or so - It used to be "avoid it, even if married. If you can't avoid it you can avoid having kids, just be cool about it" and has changed to "off you go then. You ARE married to each other right? super. NO CONDOMS!"
Society's views on extramarital sex have changed dramatically. More humping = more kids. no ifs, ands, or buts. (If they used butts there'd be less kids. just saying)

2) Statistical error -

The study took samples of eight "birth cohorts" (groups of women of roughly the same age to average against each other) from 1800 to 1970. Taking point one into consideration, we see that as they are not-so-much at history/sociology, they are probably only so-so at math.

Also, the difference of four years, noting that record-keeping was a more of a "She's about 20 or something, eh" style of thing, is well within what I would accept as margin of error.

3) Medical Advances -

The report makes it abundantly clear that this was only taking into account SUCCESSFUL parturition, NOT primigravidate status. (primigravida = Latin for first pregnancy). Before modern medicine, childbirth was dodgy, at best. looking over the cited references on wikipedia's page on maternal mortality, we see that you could expect, in the context of a real hospital (Dublin Maternity Hospital) a deathrate approaching 40%. And this was an a city renowned throughout the world for its doctors in this period. They hardly ever leached someone to death. Like almost never.

going back to point one, it appears that in the 20th century, unsuccessful birth (stillbirth, abortion, maternal death, etc) is extremely under reported. So that's throwing off numbers as well.

These are just a few examples - if someone were to buy me the actual full paper, I could probably come up with more.

So the simplest, reasoned argument is, as always - "You're doing it wrong, you tit".

And that's just my problems with the actual scientists. The sporting press seems to have taken this ball and run with it. Well, I for one say "Well shit".

Here's why -

Science and reason in this country are under direct assault from the superstitions and willful ignorance of the religious right. This article, due to sloppy reporting or science is so easy to pick apart that this will only add to the godbotherers ammo pile.

My solution? simple - If you are a large publication (> 5000 readers) and you wish to report on scientific news/concepts/etc - you have to hire a real scientist with an actual degree from a real university (Sorry, University of Phoenix, you'll just not do) to explain the principles, techniques, results, and implications of the research.

The problem and its solution annoy me. According to my usual position, the article is perfect. The reporter simply reported, no analysis, no opinion. But now I am beginning to understand why this position may have logical flaws.....

More on this later.

A Quick View into My Life.

2011-09-15T15:41:00.000-07:00

I subscribe to tons of RSS feeds, as something to do at work. I saw a Lifehacker article on how to keep long-term relationships "fresh", and feeling all "Suzy Homemaker", I sent off a link to The Bunny. This is what happened:

On Thu, Sep 15, 2011 at 9:50 AM, Peter Bomars wrote:

not saying anything, not passive aggressive, some of this sounds fun.

http://lifehacker.com/5840566/how-to-avoid-the-four-most-common-relationship-killers

And WOW do I feel teh geeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyy

OK, so read that link. It's full of heartwarming stuff.

The Bunny read that and responded with:

On Thu, 2011-09-15 at 11:50 -0700, The Bunny wrote:

So we're working on our relationship AND you're gay? Here's the guide I thought most helpful

http://ohnoa.com/2011/09/the-dangerballs-guide-to-being-the-best-at-marriage/

I retorted:

On Thursday, September 15, 2011, Peter Bomars wrote:

No....I though taking a class together or something. Also, more naked cheerios/Cap'n Crunch.

A sensible reply:

On Thu, 2011-09-15 at 13:06 -0700, The Bunny wrote:

Classes sound fun but we revisit this issue every 6 months and neither of us have found anything that we want to spend that money on learning. But I agree more date nights and I that.

Things get weird:

On Thu, Sep 15, 2011 at 1:08 PM, Peter Bomars wrote:

And the cereal issue? where does the committee stand on that?

On Sep 15, 2011 2:01 PM, The Bunny wrote:

I think you need to reread that article because cereal and sexy rumpus time did not go together.

Although I do think that discovering you have a sexual need for Cap'n Crunch after 5 years together could improve our relationship....or destroy it depending on whether you want me to wear the outfit or not. Also best comment on that article:

"Personally, this is what I was rooting for Dear Abby and Ann Landers to turn into: “Ann Landerballs Head Cuntmuffin of Social Fucking Values” Totally needs to be an advice column. I fucking dare you. I even promise to stalk it and offer unsolicited advice to viewership!

Possible titles could be:

The Dangerballs Guide to a Sexier (and less hairy) You
Lose Some Fucking Weight, Already ~ Nutritional advice from Dangerballs Gavin
I’ll Let You Fuck Me if You Stop Blaming Your Farts on the Dog ~ Tips on how to repair your struggling marriage
I Never Loved You ~ Insight into calmer family relations
Please Stop Breathing in Public: The Dangerballs Political Blog

I’ll think of more if you don’t like those…"

Feeling just a touch put out over the snarky rejoinder:

On Thu, Sep 15, 2011 at 2:10 PM, Peter Bomars wrote:

No, they are not together. But if during sexy naked rumpus time you could, on occasion, state that you are or are willing to be "cuckoo for cocoapuffs" that'd be swell

And finally:

On Thu, Sep 15, 2011 at 2:12 PM, The Bunny wrote:

So what you're saying is I should add that to the face licking and retarded voice?Will do, my Liege!

So yeah. That's pretty much my life.

Wedding Blues, Wamblish Shoes, and Insidious Florists

2011-09-04T13:34:00.000-07:00

Well, as you are a faithful reader and know what the hell is going on around here (unlike your devoted chronicler), you are aware that The Bunny and I are getting hitched all official-like. To all the men out there, read on:

PROPOSING IS A REALLY, REALLY BAD IDEA! Don't do it. Ever.

Here's why - Your current bedbunny is a sane, rational woman, right? Cool, composed, not given to flights of wacky hysterics about the minutia of candles? HA! slap the groovy wedding-vibe on her and madness follows.

You ask for proof? Well, results may vary, but I do have a couple examples:

Before proposal:

A longtime favorite discussion around the 'ole Bomars hearth was on the nature of what constitutes Art. As in - Kant vs Tolstoy Vs Kierkegaard in a to-the-death cage-match.

After proposal:

"What do you think we should do with the leftover place mats from the reception?"
or the current favorite:
"Did you know <insert insufferably boring factoid about the wedding dress industry> and if I buy my dress online <I usually faint with ennui here>"

OR

BP:

The Bunny: "Who should we invite to <insert event here>?"
Your hero: "I dunno, people?"
The Bunny: "Yeah, people are good."

AP:

The Bunny: "Who should we invite to the wedding?"
Your hero: "I dunno, people?"
The Bunny: <hateful stare>

From these two examples, we can deduce that men and women do not have the same sense of importance or urgency regarding nuptials.

I, for one, would like no better than to have people show up with cash in hand and party until every last person we have ever met passes out. Somewhere during the party (to be determined by the mood of the festivities) an ordained-type person shouts incomprehensible gibberish about the solemnity of the event, passes out, regains consciousness, makes us lob rings at each other, passes out again and is carried off stage. DONE. see? simplicity itself. I planned that whole thing in like thirty seconds.

The Bunny's plan involves florists, the most economically parasitic trade known to man, They are even more evil than the IRS. It gets even worse from there. (Wait, maybe I'm wrong. maybe it wasn't florists...it could have been flautists. Seriously, though...why the hell would we need flautists? Women are a mystery.) (Also, as a side note, I need to get my hearing checked.)

O, Brother - take heed, as well, of the following dire warning:

AT NO TIME, FOR NO REASON, EVER GIVE A WHIMSICAL SUGGESTION TO THE PROSPECTIVE BRIDE ABOUT ANYTHING AT ALL, lest your silly idea be taken as a demand.

Me, a long, long time ago: "I wanna get married in a cathedral " (Seriously, it'd be awesome. The Wedding March played on a pipe organ, a choir singing Vivaldi's Magnificat, knights in armor....Hell yeah)
The Bunny: <dialing the local Archdiocese last week> I don't know if we can afford it; but if I can get someone to buy a kidney...
Me: "WTF? I'm not even Catholic! Wait....How much you think we can get for a kidney, though? I've got like...two or something."
The Bunny: <hateful stare>

Oh, and my personal fave - every woman she has ever met, even briefly, like on the bus or something, will come out of the woodwork offering "help". And by "help" I mean a carefully coordinated campaign of misinformation and anti-male propaganda.

Some chick The Bunny met at summer camp in 1987: "Heard you were getting married! Just emailing you to see if you wanted to use my antique rose curling press you will totally need one!!! Also, your fiancée has called in a hit on a puppy, is cheating on you with a nearsighted marmoset, and may be a communist."

Some other chick The Bunny knew from college: "Hooray! Men can't be trusted with even the smallest task! Did you know that a mere SIX MONTHS before our wedding, my husband suggested that we go out rollerskating? ROLLERSKATING!!!!! He obviously has no notion! Also, during the rehearsal dinner, he ate CHICKEN!?!?! Also, you should purchase this orbital sander so your shoes won't wamble."

And so on.

Hold the phone, I just realized something. Is this how women feel when it's mentioned, briefly, that they would like a new computer/car/tool and their guy offers sound, reasonable advice? Except all crazy? something to think about....

More later.

How I Handle Feedback and a Very Special Episode of Bunny.

2011-08-24T14:47:00.000-07:00

So the other day, The Bunny and I went out with some folks to a bar called The Feedback Lounge over in West Seattle. As a "scratch bar", they make a great deal of their mixers fresh, by hand, at the time of order; but they go a step above and beyond: They infuse their own liquors on site. HERE is a link to their drinks menu.

Piece of advice - The Whiskey Smash is DELIGHTFUL.

After imbibing several of these fine beverages, Bunny, her friend "T" (of the suspect "Lady Date" episode) and I, retired to the abode of newlyweds "B" and "J" to have some beers and chill out on their back porch while enjoying the warm evening air.

At this point it a good idea to mention that "B" and The Bunny had already had a couple more than was strictly necessary and I had had exactly the right amount to wax all "professory" at people for some time regarding the most boring subject imaginable - Middle Eastern History (complete with gestures and forgetting what I was talking about).

In the middle of a rather fascinating dissertation on the impact of Arabic Poetry on Spanish Literature in the 15th century (It's actually a real thing, and in its own way totally fascinating), "B" decided that I need a good talking-to about my relationship with The Bunny.

Here's what i think of that:

Katrina, in the five years I have known you, you have made me the happiest man in the world. Even though we have different likes or opinions at times, we never fail to find common ground, and to find delight in sharing with each other. I knew from the first day we met that you were the one, and still feel that way.

To that end, and as we met because of words written in a blog, I will ask you, in a blog.

Katrina, will you marry me?

There. Now all you people asking when I'm going to take this seriously had better shut the hell up.

Methuselah Takes a Dive, Beaver Conditioner, Non-Disclosure, and Magic Shell

2011-08-16T21:19:00.000-07:00

Sick again. Dammit. I swear that each and every child of my coworkers is a disease factory. When I work around people with no kids, no problem. I am never ill. Introduce a perambulating petri dish at home and WHAM! Cholera, plague, dengue fever, licky end (which only pregnant ewes get), you name it.

Get this, we were told that blogging about, or writing a negative review on a job-board about my employer is a direct violation of our nondisclosure agreement. lol. I'm not risking it because making the head of IT nervous about what I am going to say or do next is worth any amount of patronizing malarkey.
Enough flirting with the unemployment line.

My plans to build my own Ubuntu Linux derivative based on Openbox (O'Buntu? great. now I want to drink too much and eat potatoes while being superior to Mac users) took a horrible turn this weekend.

Bunny's evil cat, Moo (who Hates. For comparison, Westboro Baptist is mildly concerned for people like me. Moo HATES.) decided that while I was walking with Methuselah (my ancient testing laptop) that she needed to be precisely where my foot was landing. I went flying and landed on Methuselah, which broke in half at the hinges.

Here's my review of the 2002 Compaq Presario v2000 (AMD):

buy one. buy one today. Your current laptop sucks. It is a barely-opaque communist plot to make you effeminate. A REAL laptop would engender comments like "Like a boss" in your limp-wristed (carpal tunnel....sure) friends (that always smell faintly of mushrooms and broken dreams). The Compaq v2000, upon which Ernest Hemingway wrote his never published autobiography "Yeah, I Fucked your Mom, Bitch Still Owes Me Twenty Dollars" (I laughed, I cried, I learned a little about myself) is so tough, it was the REAL reason John Wayne died. He tried to fuck around and CTL-ALT-BACKSPACE to kill the X-server process and Methuselah ate him. The lung cancer thing was a clever ploy by his publicist. I actually know a real-deal diesel dyke that won't use Methuselah because it's too tough. And she's beat me up! Twice! (I may or may not have made some of this up)(I was NEVER beaten up by a girl. The rest is gospel truth)

Here is what what I base my thoughtful, technical opinion on:

This laptop BROKE IN HALF. I plugged the monitor back in (it came detached from the motherboard) AND IT BOOTED LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED. So I am now getting him a new case and we'll be back in business.I've had this computer longer than I've had pubic hair, and it's more reliable than anything else I have ever owned.

WAIT, I was going to tell you all about last Friday. My buddy Zach came over to hang out with the Bunny and I. For some strange reason they decided that they must have ice cream and that I was the intrepid adventurer who would risk life and limb at the local grocery store to bring back the spoils of the hunt.

Lazy bastards.

So Bunny has this thing, she thinks that I have very, very short att

hey, I just thought of something. Why the fuck don't I PAINT Methuselah's new case? Ferarri red or Darth Vader theme or something.

ention-span.

This is obviously an overstatement. Sure, sometimes i may not pay the closest attention to you boring people, but that's because YOU'RE BORING. (duh)

Anyway, i just got in my truck when the texts started:

Bunny - Butter Pecan, Magic Shell, Whip Cream, Cherries
Me - Seriously?

At this point I was kinda pissy that she thought I couldn't remember what i was sent for. Then the text started rolling in every thirty seconds until I got home.

Bunny - And some Maddog 4040
Zach - Kielbasa
Bunny - The maraschino cherries have to be organic, dye-free, and preserved in the tears of poor children
Zach - and a Mars Bar
Bunny - And some Jammy Dodgers
Zach - and some pork rinds
Bunny - A Hustler magazine
Zach - fish sticks
Bunny - One pound cruelty-free, fair-trade spinach
Zach - Macaroni salad from the deli, God help you if there's onions
Zach - And some rubbers, get the big ones
Bunny - And you'll probably need some Wesson oil from what Zach says
Zach -Do they still sell Big League Chew? find out if they still sell Big League Chew.
Bunny - Cracker-Jacks with ANY AND ALL prizes related to Abe Lincoln REMOVED.
Zach - Pygmy walrus too exotic for the QFC?
Bunny - Beaver Conditioner
Zach - Brown M&Ms. You heard me, BROWN
Bunny - Made from only Alaskan beavers, preferably only ones that lived near Sarah Palin
Me - HA! Fuck you! I found organic, dye-free cherries! They're out of maddog, though.
Bunny - Fuck YOU, the dye makes them taste better
Bunny - rubber sheets
Bunny - Lion-chow catnip felt mousies
Bunny - Sorry, Moo got my phone
Bunny - Extra-Large garbage bags and a pound of quick lime

So there I was, walking through the store,my phone pinging every thirty seconds, cracking up. Meanwhile, store security must have thought I was some kind of drug-crazed oatmeal thief, because I was followed the entire time. This made me laugh even more. I could hardly check out. Then, with store security five feet behind me, I walked up to some poor, twitter-pated girl stocking shelves and asked her where the Magic Shell was (that chocolate stuff that hardens when it hits ice-cream..don't ask. they wanted it). The poor girl must have thought that I was game for a good 'ole fashioned rapin' because she squeaked and pointed to the aisle. Poor daffy girl.

Anyway, yeah, that's my weekend. How was yours?

Religion, Obama, Preist, The Eagle,Germans, and Reeducation.

2011-08-09T20:36:00.000-07:00

For me, O Oblate Reader, movies are like a religion. I truly believe in the whole experience. Some time ago, in my old blog, I made rather cool simile comparing going to the movies like going to Catholic mass in some old-world cathedral. It still holds true for me.

A couple of days ago I watched a couple movies

The Eagle:

Some of you may know that I am a Roman history buff. Love me some Rome. This movie passed the "Pete's a pedantic ass" test with flying colors! I know there were some inaccuracies; but because I know next to nothing about Celtic history, I had to let 'em slide. (NO one knows much about Celtic history. Anyone that says different is lying, selling you something, or one of those daffy new age hippy bastards) For instance, the Scottish actors were speaking Lowland Scots (naturally) not the completely extinct and almost completely unknown Pictish. (seriously, we have a couple of hotly debated Ogham inscriptions and some place names like "Inverness", that's it)

The movie in and of itself was enjoyable if a little shallow. The Director, Kevin MacDonald, has almost completely worked in documentaries, so you would think that the guy could find SOMETHING to get real deep about. But no, it's a pretty staid attempt at a two-guys-from-completely-different-worlds-work-together-toward-a-nigh-impossible-goal-and-find-common-ground-and-mutual-respect thing. But like I've said earlier, sometimes it's not "new" that is important, it's what you bring to the table in terms of honesty and artistry. MacDonald brings both, with one small, tiny objection from me: I love Terrence Malik, the crazy fuck. EVERYONE loves Malik. We know YOU love Malik, so there is no reason to cling to him like an insecure high-school girl in a Denny's. Giving Malik a nod, a quick smootch even, is completely OK. But to try and copy his style is not. You are a very pretty, smart girl, Kevin, and need to focus on how YOU are special, not how Terence makes you feel special.

Wait. Shit. I got my similes, allusions, and reality all twisted. MacDonald is not a high-school girl, as far as I know. OK. we cool?

I also saw Priest. Meh. As a movie, I see why it bombed in the theaters. This is a movie for stealing, not paying money.

HOWEVER you can't if you have any Sony products as your main media player. Sony decided that "free market" capitalism is awesome when there is no competition and it doesn't have to listen to the market in any way, shape, or form. They set up the Priest DVDs and BluRays with a horrible new form of anti-piracy malarkey that doesn't work if you have any computer skills at all. (So I am told by someone that I met once and found to be untrustworthy.)( HEIL, DMCA! Aktiengeschellschaften über Alles! [und so weiter]) This new form of copy protection checks against a database to see if you have the right to watch the movie. If not, it turns the sound off. Here's something to think about, there is no guarantee that this movie will work if you rent it. Think about it - even if you have the DVD from Netflix (those chiseling bastards) if there are too many entries on the DB, or your player isn't connected to the internet, you can't watch it....

I won't go into it too much further, as that would be illegal.

The only way to avoid knowing any more about it is to watch this movie on anything that is not Sony. This advice is legal, here's why:

This lame attempt at security is so easy to circumvent that even seeing it in action immediately alerts any reasonably intelligent person exactly how to circumvent it. Therefore, in an heroic act of cogitation, I came to the flawless conclusion that to save my brethren and sistren the karmic debt of breaking the law, I will simply not allow them to be exposed to the potential situation in any way! Not only am I a legal genius, I am a fucking bodhisattva.

Yeah, Priest. Paul Bettany, And the clenchy guy from the Return of the King and "Bones" in the new JJ Abrams Star Trek movie. What's his name. (Bunny says that he can muster HER Rohirim anytime...the floozy) It has one redeeming feature: If you want to have something on that is loud while snogging on the couch so the roommates can't hear you...there you go. AND ANOTHER reason to make double sure not to watch it on Sony products.

Which brings me to my main point. The Bunny.

Recently, I have been enrolled in her Reeducation Camp for Wayward Spendthrifts, enjoying languorous sessions of electroshock therapy and Assertive Exfoliation Therapy (your bits gets scrubbed with barbed wire. But my skin IS smooth now) all while listening to Her Bunnyness' lectures on the "Five-Fold Path to Home Ownership" and "Up the Bourgeoisie, Down with Renters" blasting from the tannoys. I came up with a BRILLIANT plan. The subtleties of which seem to be lost on her.

My plan is in two parts, it allows for personal recreation and ads valuable income to our coffers.

You ready?

Fuck Bitches, Make Money.

BRILLIANT. Needless to say, Bunny was not impressed.

Boredom encroaches. More next time.

How to Set Up an Automated, Headless Torrent Downloader and uPNP Server on Ubuntu Server 11.04

2011-08-06T21:57:00.000-07:00

Hi all,

Today, for the first time, we are going to discuss a really, really simple Linux howto: Setting up an automated, headless torrent downloader and streaming media server using:

Server Environment

Ubuntu Server 11.04 (AMD64 for preference)
Full LAMP stack already installed and configured to your liking (technically optional, but come on....)
Correctly configured local network. (firewall and so on)

Software to be installed and configured:

Transmission-daemon
Dropbox
Mediatomb

Please note that this tutorial will not cover installation of the server environment nor of the LAMP stack. This tutorial will also assume only the bittorrent client will be accessible from outside your local network; allowing everything to be accessible to the big, bad internetz is not safe. In fact, I strongly advise that you only allow it to be accessible for a short time for debugging purposes, as everything else is handled via Dropbox once it's all set up!

Remember folks, more open to the world = more attack vectors = we're in ur base killin ur d00ds.

This tutorial assumes that you already have an account with Dropbox and it is set up on your desktop/laptop/daily driver. Heck, I use my Android-based phone sometimes.

ALSO NOTE - My plan is to keep this updated, so as server versions change, or changes to the software occur, this tutorial should be pretty much valid.

OK, here's the easy part:

INSTALLING THE SOFTWARE

I recommend you do the following from inside the local network:

everything is done from "/home/<username>/" or "~" directory. If you aren't sure what those are, stop now, get some uber-geek to come over and continue on from here.

SSH onto your server.

copy-and-paste the following into your shell:

"ffmpegthumbnailer" is recommended but completely optional; it sends a thumbnail of each file to the client (in my case a PS3) so you have a pretty picture next to the title.

OK, great. so you have almost everything installed, now to the drop-box part:

copy-and-paste the following into your shell:
For Stable 32-bit:

OR

For Stable 64-bit:

and extract with

then run the dropbox script:

A really annoying repeating message pops up. copy-and-paste the ENTIRE url into a browser on your computer, and sign into Dropbox. OKOKOK, for you pedants out there, I know the dropbox wiki says to not do that, but it seems to work fine. I've done this a couple times with various OSes and network situations. So there. If it doesn't.... read the bottom of this post.

At this point, I would check that you have a folder/directory in your Dropbox folder/directory called something that you will remember. Mine is called "torrents". For the rest of this tutorial, that is the name I will be using for the configuration. Please remember to change this to whatever you named the folder where you are going to temporarily store .torrent files.

Also, here is the one thing that I really, really need you to think about if you wish to proceed:

You will have to make this folder "globally writable". This means that anyone or any process can do pretty much whatever the hell it wants to the contents in this specific folder.

If you ONLY store torrents in there which are about to be processed, then there is very, very little likelihood of any real danger. But this is something you will have to consider and a decision you will have to make on your own. Note also, that this person/process will have to already have access to your server. So really, it's your own fault that this purported person deleted your "Backdoor_Betty_XVI.TEHPWNZER.DVDRIP.xvid.torrent" file; and I, for one, am truly shocked at you.

That being said,

chmod 777 ~/Dropbox/torrents

Dropbox install is finished.

Information courtesy wiki.dropbox.com. For further info: http://wiki.dropbox.com/TipsAndTricks/TextBasedLinuxInstall

CONFIGURATION

OK, this is where things can get confusing, but bear with me...we'll get through this together.

Let's go through this in order of "data in" to "data out" - Dropbox is pretty well handled, so you can get .torrent files to your server. Next, we want to download the torrents and store them somewhere.

Make a place to store your media files.

$mkdir media

Done! well, done-ish. Eventually, I will add a script to this tutorial that automates the organization, but that'll be a few tutorials from now, when I have a chance to show you a couple Bash, perl, or Ruby tricks.

now we are going to edit the transmission-daemon configuration file. This can get scary, but bear with me.

Most tutorials on the web have you edit the wrong file, but here are Fiascoes, Travesties, and Faux Pas, we believe in doing things that bear a fair resemblance to "right". Or at least "close enough"; so it is completely unthinkable that we would be completely wrong. Or at least mildly puzzling. Well, we're not likely wrong, most of the time....whatever.

Transmission-daemon has two configuration files. The permanent, static one and the one that loads at runtime. The default transmission-daemom configuration overwrites the runtime config file for some reason that probably makes sense, but I haven't bothered to look into too far.

The permanent config file is

/etc/transmission-daemon/settings.json

before you go all nimbly-pimbly running from xml-tag to xml-tag, take a second and glance at the documentation:

https://trac.transmissionbt.com/wiki/EditConfigFiles

it's all simple, just scary sounding. Don't panic. Here is my copy, redacted so you don't get all hacky on me.

{
   "alt-speed-down": 50,
   "alt-speed-enabled": false,
   "alt-speed-time-begin": 540,
   "alt-speed-time-day": 127,
   "alt-speed-time-enabled": false,
   "alt-speed-time-end": 1020,
   "alt-speed-up": 50,
   "bind-address-ipv4": "0.0.0.0",
   "bind-address-ipv6": "::",
   "blocklist-enabled": true,
   "blocklist-url": "http://list.iblocklist.com/?list=bt_level1&fileformat=p2p&archiveformat=gz",
   "cache-size-mb": 2,
   "dht-enabled": true,
   "download-dir": "/home/username/media",
   "download-limit": 100,
   "download-limit-enabled": 0,
   "encryption": 1,
   "idle-seeding-limit": 30,
   "idle-seeding-limit-enabled": false,
   "incomplete-dir": "/home/username/torrents",
   "incomplete-dir-enabled": true,
   "lazy-bitfield-enabled": true,
   "lpd-enabled": false,
   "max-peers-global": 200,
   "message-level": 2,
   "open-file-limit": 32,
   "peer-limit-global": 240,
   "peer-limit-per-torrent": 60,
   "peer-port": 51413,
   "peer-port-random-high": 65535,
   "peer-port-random-low": 49152,
   "peer-port-random-on-start": false,
   "peer-socket-tos": 0,
   "pex-enabled": true,
   "port-forwarding-enabled": true,
   "preallocation": 1,
   "ratio-limit": 2,
   "ratio-limit-enabled": false,
   "rename-partial-files": true,
   "rpc-authentication-required": true,
   "rpc-bind-address": "0.0.0.0",
   "rpc-enabled": true,
   "rpc-password": "enter a decent password, it will be changed into a hash after the first run",
   "rpc-port": 9091,
   "rpc-username": "something sensible here",
   "rpc-whitelist": "192.168.*.*,*",
   "rpc-whitelist-enabled": true,
   "script-torrent-done-enabled": false,
   "script-torrent-done-filename": "",
   "speed-limit-down": 100,
   "speed-limit-down-enabled": false,
   "speed-limit-up": 100,
   "speed-limit-up-enabled": false,
   "start-added-torrents": true,
   "trash-original-torrent-files": false,
   "umask": 18,
   "upload-limit": 100,
   "upload-limit-enabled": 0,
   "upload-slots-per-torrent": 14,
   "watch-dir": "/home/username/Dropbox/torrents/",
   "watch-dir-enabled": true
}

change everything that says "username" to YOUR username. not "username" that would be silly.

so ready? breath deep.

make a copy so if you screw up, you can start over by copying it back!

$ sudo cp /etc/transmission-daemon/settings.json /etc/transmission-daemon/settings.json.backup

then edit

$sudo nano /etc/transmission-daemon/settings.json

then we restart the service:

$sudo service transmission-daemon restart

Then we test!

open a browser and go to your server's IP address, port 9091

http://SERVERNAME:9091

You should get something like this:

If not, go through the settings.json file again and reload the service.

If you still have no luck, re-read the documentation. If you STILL have no luck, let me know. Be warned - if this is a simple issue and is clearly one of you not reading the documentation, I reserve the right to make fun of you before I help. I will, however, help....eventually.

MEDIATOMB CONFIGURATION

The default configuration runs on sqlite3. I prefer to store the data as a mysql database, as I haven't the faintest idea how to work with sqlite. (seriously...the heavyweight DBs are so easy to work with, I never bothered to learn anything about sqlite, I know that it works, and works well, and how to connect using the various APIs out there, but that's really it)

So the NEXT step is completely optional:

MySQL Configuration

login to your MySQL console as root

$ mysql -u root -p
enter password: <---do so. This is the MySQL "root" password, not your login password. They ARE different, right? no? shame.

mysql> CREATE DATABASE mediatomb;
mysql> CREATE USER 'mediatomb'@'localhost';

OK, that last one is weird - we are creating a user with NO password on a live database. Don't worry, this user will only have access to the mediatomb database and only can access MySQL on the server itself and nothing/nowhere else AT ALL. This isn't even a real user! No one can log in on your server as "mediatomb". Relax. Programs do this all the time, and don't tell you. I'm just the honest sort.

mysql> GRANT ALL ON mediatomb.* TO 'mediatomb'@'localhost';

mysql> exit;

We are now ready to edit the actual mediatomb configuration file.

first, make a backup!

$ sudo cp /etc/mediatomb/config.xml /etc/mediatomb/config.xml.backup

now edit

$ sudo nano /etc/mediatomb/config.xml

or vi or ed or whatever editor with which you are most comfortable.

edit your file to be like THIS:

<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<config version="2" xmlns="http://mediatomb.cc/config/2" xmlns:xsi="http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema-instance" xsi:schemaLocation="http://mediatomb.cc/config/2 http://mediatomb.cc/config/2.xsd">
  <server>
   <ui enabled="yes" show-tooltips="yes">
   <accounts enabled="no" session-timeout="30">
   <account user="your username" password="your password"/>
   </accounts>
   </ui>
   <name>Mediatomb (or whatever you want, really)</name>
   <udn>uuid:0ffba0119-99b3-4961-904f-ef60b95791e2</udn>
   <home>/var/lib/mediatomb</home>
   <webroot>/usr/share/mediatomb/web</webroot>
   <port>anything above 49152. I use 51000</port>
   <storage caching="yes">
   <sqlite3 enabled="no">
   <database-file>mediatomb.db</database-file>
   </sqlite3>
   <mysql enabled="yes">
   <host>localhost</host>
   <username>mediatomb</username>
   <database>mediatomb</database>
   </mysql>
   </storage>
   <protocolInfo extend="yes"/>
-
   <custom-http-headers>
   <add header="X-User-Agent: redsonic"/>
   </custom-http-headers>

   <manufacturerURL>redsonic.com</manufacturerURL>
   <modelNumber>105</modelNumber>
   
   <extended-runtime-options>
   <ffmpegthumbnailer enabled="yes">
   <thumbnail-size>128</thumbnail-size>
   <seek-percentage>5</seek-percentage>
   <filmstrip-overlay>yes</filmstrip-overlay>
   <workaround-bugs>no</workaround-bugs>
   </ffmpegthumbnailer>
   <mark-played-items enabled="no" suppress-cds-updates="yes">
   <string mode="prepend">*</string>
   </mark-played-items>
   </extended-runtime-options>
  </server>
  <import hidden-files="no">
   <scripting script-charset="UTF-8">
   <common-script>/usr/share/mediatomb/js/common.js</common-script>
   <playlist-script>/usr/share/mediatomb/js/playlists.js</playlist-script>
   <virtual-layout type="builtin">
   <import-script>/usr/share/mediatomb/js/import.js</import-script>
   <dvd-script>/usr/share/mediatomb/js/import-dvd.js</dvd-script>
   </virtual-layout>
   </scripting>
   <mappings>
   <extension-mimetype ignore-unknown="no">
   <map from="mp3" to="audio/mpeg"/>
   <map from="ogg" to="application/ogg"/>
   <map from="asf" to="video/x-ms-asf"/>
   <map from="asx" to="video/x-ms-asf"/>
   <map from="wma" to="audio/x-ms-wma"/>
   <map from="wax" to="audio/x-ms-wax"/>
   <map from="wmv" to="video/x-ms-wmv"/>
   <map from="wvx" to="video/x-ms-wvx"/>
   <map from="wm" to="video/x-ms-wm"/>
   <map from="wmx" to="video/x-ms-wmx"/>
   <map from="m3u" to="audio/x-mpegurl"/>
   <map from="pls" to="audio/x-scpls"/>
   <map from="flv" to="video/x-flv"/>
   <map from="mkv" to="video/x-matroska"/>
   <map from="mka" to="audio/x-matroska"/>

<map from="avi" to="video/divx"/>


   </extension-mimetype>
   <mimetype-upnpclass>
   <map from="audio/*" to="object.item.audioItem.musicTrack"/>
   <map from="video/*" to="object.item.videoItem"/>
   <map from="image/*" to="object.item.imageItem"/>
   <map from="application/ogg" to="object.item.audioItem.musicTrack"/>
   </mimetype-upnpclass>
   <mimetype-contenttype>
   <treat mimetype="audio/mpeg" as="mp3"/>
   <treat mimetype="application/ogg" as="ogg"/>
   <treat mimetype="audio/x-flac" as="flac"/>
   <treat mimetype="image/jpeg" as="jpg"/>
   <treat mimetype="audio/x-mpegurl" as="playlist"/>
   <treat mimetype="audio/x-scpls" as="playlist"/>
   <treat mimetype="audio/x-wav" as="pcm"/>
   <treat mimetype="audio/L16" as="pcm"/>
   <treat mimetype="video/x-msvideo" as="avi"/>
   <treat mimetype="video/mp4" as="mp4"/>
   <treat mimetype="audio/mp4" as="mp4"/>
   <treat mimetype="application/x-iso9660" as="dvd"/>
   <treat mimetype="application/x-iso9660-image" as="dvd"/>
   <treat mimetype="video/x-matroska" as="mkv"/>
   <treat mimetype="audio/x-matroska" as="mka"/>
   </mimetype-contenttype>
   </mappings>
   <online-content>
   <YouTube enabled="no" refresh="28800" update-at-start="no" purge-after="604800" racy-content="exclude" format="flv" hd="no">
   <favorites user="mediatomb"/>
   <standardfeed feed="most_viewed" time-range="today"/>
   <playlists user="mediatomb"/>
   <uploads user="mediatomb"/>
   <standardfeed feed="recently_featured" time-range="today"/>
   </YouTube>
   <Weborama enabled="no" refresh="28800" update-at-start="no">
   <playlist name="Active" type="playlist" mood="active"/>
   <playlist name="Metal" type="playlist">
   <filter>
   <genres>metal</genres>
   </filter>
   </playlist>
   </Weborama>
   <AppleTrailers enabled="no" refresh="43200" update-at-start="no" resolution="640"/>
   </online-content>
  </import>
  <transcoding enabled="no">
   <mimetype-profile-mappings>
   <transcode mimetype="video/x-flv" using="vlcmpeg"/>
   <transcode mimetype="application/ogg" using="vlcmpeg"/>
   <transcode mimetype="application/ogg" using="oggflac2raw"/>
   <transcode mimetype="audio/x-flac" using="oggflac2raw"/>
   </mimetype-profile-mappings>
   <profiles>
   <profile name="oggflac2raw" enabled="no" type="external">
   <mimetype>audio/L16</mimetype>
   <accept-url>no</accept-url>
   <first-resource>yes</first-resource>
   <accept-ogg-theora>no</accept-ogg-theora>
   <agent command="ogg123" arguments="-d raw -o byteorder:big -f %out %in"/>
   <buffer size="1048576" chunk-size="131072" fill-size="262144"/>
   </profile>
   <profile name="vlcmpeg" enabled="no" type="external">
   <mimetype>video/mpeg</mimetype>
   <accept-url>yes</accept-url>
   <first-resource>yes</first-resource>
   <accept-ogg-theora>yes</accept-ogg-theora>
   <agent command="vlc" arguments="-I dummy %in --sout #transcode{venc=ffmpeg,vcodec=mp2v,vb=4096,fps=25,aenc=ffmpeg,acodec=mpga,ab=192,samplerate=44100,channels=2}:standard{access=file,mux=ps,dst=%out} vlc:quit"/>
   <buffer size="14400000" chunk-size="512000" fill-size="120000"/>
   </profile>
   </profiles>
  </transcoding>
</config>

So basically, you make sure that you have enabled the UI and put in a sensible username and password, disabled sqlite (sqlite3 is "no"), and enabled MYSQL (MySQL is "yes" with the database and username you selected earlier.) Also, as I have a PS3, I've uncommented the "uncomment this..." stuff relating to PS3. If you chose to install ffmpegthumbnailer earlier, enable that as well. It's pretty straight-forward.

to finish, run

$ sudo service mediatomb restart

Next test and add the file you want to watch -

open any browser and go to your server's IP address, at whatever port you set in <port></port>

From here, you click on "File System", and browse to /home/username/media and click in the button and select "inotify" that will automagically grab stuff that is added there and add it to the serve list.

Finally, we test the whole thing.

Add a LEGAL (pfftmmmphhffchtchortle) torrent media file to your Dropbox "torrents" file on your local machine. wait a second or two.

go to the transmission interface. is it there? awesome.
wait for it to download
go to the mediatomb interface.
is it in the mediatomb database? stupendous

go to your PS3/other streaming client. Do you see a "mediatomb" or whatever you named your server? AWESOME. play it, get some popcorn and brag to your honey how awesome you are with your mad l337 haxxor skillz.

This tutorial is for educational/hobby purposes only. At no time will, either jointly or severally, (I thought that bit up myself. HA! who needs law school?) the author, commenter, passers-by, some guy that sent you a link, the Pope, or any other body, terrestrial or otherwise be held liable for anything in anyway or for any reason. I don't promise this will work for you. I do promise I care, but not much. By following the steps outlined above you have entered into a binding agreement to hold the author blameless and defend the author against any claims (or clams) otherwise. You also promise that you will, if reasonable opportunity presents itself,buy the author one (1) beer of the type of his choosing, unless the author is blotto, pickled, senseless, pissed, snockered, or any other sense of rascally drunk, when a cola may be presented as an acceptable substitution. At no time will water be acceptable...You know what fish do in water, right? everything. Lorem Ipsum etc etc etc. Oh, and the author doesn't condone illegal downloading of anything. So fuck off ICE.

"Cowboys and Aliens", Hate, Vests, and Judgement.

2011-08-01T18:58:00.000-07:00

Back to our regularly scheduled programming.

And now a word from our sponsors:

AdvertisementLadies, do you ever have that "pretty gawdamned fresh" feeling whenever you see Daniel Craig? We here at the Women's Institute of Pulchritudinous Entertainers understand your pain. WIPE would like to remind you to "WIPE your jowls", not create a scene in the movie theater and donate today. If even one woman can be saved the embarrassment of drooling all over 8x10 glossies of a guy that looks THAT good in a vest,

we all can.

Thanks, Tracy...I'm sure that our readers feel better knowing you are out there...doing...stuff.

That's right bubbies, it's time for my review of "Cowboys & Indians", the fifth-grade film class project by little Johnny Favereau, so gather around the glowing god-box and drink in the word.

I really, really wanted to like this movie. I mean, c'mon: The second-best James Bond (Sean = #1, forever) and Han Fucking Solo in a WESTERN? With space aliens? How could this possibly go wrong?

Let's see. How about plot holes bigger than the canyons lovingly shot by the DoP/Cinematographer (whatever) Matthew Libatique? (No seriously, I really, really like this guy's eye. He knows color, spacing, depth of field and other technical-sounding words).

Plot hole numero ein:

So there are these space asshats that come down, stealing people to "learn their weaknesses" all while mining gold. Gold happens to be one of the most abundant resources in the galaxy. Let me repeat that statement and cite a reference:

one of the MOST ABUNDANT RESOURCES IN THE GALAXY. For instance, in our own solar system, there is a honking great asteroid named Eros (the goddess of screwing until your brains leak into a pail or something) that has 20 BILLION METRIC TONNES of gold alone. It's about the size of Bellevue. I honestly don't think there are 20 billion tonnes of Bellevue in Bellevue. Here's a reference in abstrat 'cause I'm too cheap to pay for the actual article: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/sci/tech/401227.stm

SOOOOOO - OK, the space fratboys can do interstellar travel, they like the gold...fine, right...but why go to the hassle of landing in a gravity well and dealing with aborigines (Daniel Craig, apparently...shut it, Tracy) when all they have to do is grind up a rock? The energy differential alone...It's physics and economics people. Try and keep up.

Plot chasm nummer ni:

So the sort-of ill-defined love interest (The uber yummy Olivia Wilde...seriously, yummy. She'd be even better if she ate a sandwich every now and again....C'mon Olivia...Just one philly, for me?) is some kind of hot Charles Bronson analogue, creepily enough, and is well, revenging up her people that can somehow regenerate or something because they seem to be some kind of energy people... but she has to blow them up with a suicide vest? really?

So she got here somehow (not discussed) and needs the help of yokels. Hell, we're only a hundred years separated from the cowboys and I can't think of a single thing I would need them for, up to and including cattle rape. (well, maybe that cute holstien over there....yeah, you....hey gurrl).

Plot canyon suuji tri:

Clancy Brown dies. That in and of itself is reason enough to sue the studio. YOU DON'T KILL CLANCY, HE KILLS YOU. Wait...never mind that's Sam Jackson. Moving on

So there were plotting inconsistencies. There were also symbolic....issues. Not issues as a symbol (Wait, maybe I got it wrong, maybe the issues were rather meta...maybe...I'll think about it) but issues with the symbols:

The Chiricahua (seriously folks. We've done these people wrong.) were helping us 'cause WE'RE THE INDIANS TOO...<simper><smarm> Fuck you.

A hummingbird is a spirit guide? OK, why? what precise interpretation of the Hummingbird Story are we talking about here? Hummingbird as the Totem of the Return to Purity? OK, wrong culture. Close though (Hopi) Wait...Fuck you. How about the Sun Manifest? nope....that's the Aztec. Another big fuck you.

and so on and so forth....

The acting.

The most important part of the movie was that Olivia Wilde doesn't show the goods. I want my damn money back for that tease. You get an above-the-butt back shot. The same one in the preview. COME ON.....

Harrison Ford. Sir, we need to talk. You used to be a good actor. You were never going to be great. These are facts. There are very few of even the greats that can make it past Social Security age and even pretend to be a bad-ass. You cannot. You come off as "moderately grumpy jerkalope". Please retire. Please. For the children

Daniel Craig. Adequate. See, Mr Ford? This is how bad-ass is done. You shut the hell up, squint a bit....and then kick some ass (note the complete lack of hip-breaking? well, maybe someone else's hip...never mind) Bunny got all kinds of squishy over how he looks in a vest. So I hate him.

Oh yeah and Keith Carradine is in it for some reason. He..... heheh.... he... snicker... kinda chokes (Yeah, I know that was his dad. I just had to) on the role of sheriff. It's probably not his fault. I mean if I got the crap exposition and watery lines he was handed, I'd phone it in as well.

Sam Rockwell - Y U NO GET MORE WORK? and more screen time? I had no idea why his character was there. none at all. And I didn't care. Because he's awesome. Yes, I am a tad "the gay" for him. Leave it alone.

In summary -

John Favreau marks time until The Avengers, Olivia Wilde shows nary a boob, Harrison Ford is turning into a boob, Daniel Craig needs to get back on the James Bond wagon, Sam Rockwell....you keep on doing what you're doing.

YAWN! I've wasted more time writing this than I have thinking about "Cowboys and Aliens" which kind of sums it all up.

A White, Blank Page and a Burning Rage

2011-08-01T11:42:00.000-07:00

Hi folks - Just a quick rant about one of the few things I take seriously: Linguistics.

Last week IO9 (I know, "you mean that bastion of socio-political and scientific journalism; IO9?". Yeah them. shaddup) had a post on how swearing actually stresses the brain, and cited the original paper FOUND HERE.

Journalists out there: IF YOU DON'T FUCKING UNDERSTAND THE SCIENCE; DON'T REPORT ON IT UNTIL YOU ASK SOMEONE WHO DOES WHAT IT ALL MEANS...........whew.....pant.....pant.....gasp.....pant

Everyone, please read the paper. Please. It is fascinating and light enough to where my readers who don't have a linguistic focused education can pretty easily follow the bouncing ball.

Essentially, the premise is that what and how you speak effects your brain. (Umm, this is inaccurate, but close enough for this specific conversation). And refutes Pinker's postulation (I love alliteration) to the contrary (It is decidedly pro Whorf)(Not the Star trek guy, the Linguist. never mind)

ANWAY, read the paper and let me know in the comments what conclusions YOU draw from it, Especially that part about 2/3 of the way down that actually talks about the cingulate gyrus' activity in relation to swearing. Neat-O

Thanks,

Pete B.

PS - my apologies to Mumford and Sons for the title of this post.

Oh, India, Aladdin, Value of Raita, and Flatulence.

2011-07-31T14:27:00.000-07:00

What follows is the true story of what happened. It is tasteless and should not be read by anyone with a functional sense of humor.

The other night, The Bunny had a "lady date" (suspicious...) with a friend of hers and purportedly went to see the Broadway version of "Aladdin".

Lady Dates: Ladies, you realize that, to men, "going out with the girls" or "having a girls night" are totally acceptable activities, and raises no suspicions, while "Lady Dates" are an immediate red flag? You are either lying, plotting, or getting our most prurient hopes up? All of which are unacceptable (OK, depending on with whom you are going on the lady date. If the other lady is even remotely good-looking, then it's suspicious. If she looks like John Madden in a skirt, off you go. we're fine)

That same evening her parents took me out to Indian food: "Oh, India" in Crossroads...

GO.

EAT.

THERE.

Oh, India is a halal-compliant buffet restaurant that serves generically Northern Indian/Pakistani style food. Their goat biryani is proof enough for me that God exists, loves us, and wants us to be happy. (And they don't charge extra for raita. Go to your local Indian joint and try to get extra raita. go. HA! can't be done, can it? Even if you offer money. Seriously, people from India listen up: Raita is good and all; but it is not more precious than rubies. What will you do if we honkies learn to make it? Think about the economy.)

Aladdin, on the other hand, we all know and either love or despise. Personally, I like it quite a bit. Robin Williams as the genie, Gilbert Gottfried as the parrot, etc etc etc. But then again due to the chip inserted into my head by Micheal Eisner, I have to like it or they start with the shocks. They hurt.

So fun was had by all.

Bunny got home very, very late for a school night (again, suspicious) and woke me up to tell me all about it.

At this point, I think it is best that I tell you what happened before it gets blown all out-of-proportion by the press:

Here is what happened:

Dramatis Personae:

Pete: stunningly handsome hero of the play, lying peacefully asleep in the bower of his lady-love.

Bunny: Beautiful lady-love, stumbling in after a night of carousing

SCENE I - Exactly thus:

Bunny still hasn't told me who the other jerks are, so I should leave them out of the play.

Bunny <Enter Left>: I had the best time! blah blah blah blah (The hero drifting towards consciousness isn't actually paying attention)

Pete: wstfzzl? (in a manly baritone, of course.)

Bunny: We had Talarico's Pizza and saw Aladdin and it was AWESOME!

Pete: Nice.

Other Guy #1: Tell him about Genie!

Pete: Who the fuck are you?

Other Guy #2: Ignore us, we aren't really here

Pete: <suspicion and the result of eating several plates of delicious Indian food too fast building> Well....OK then

Bunny: <getting into bed and getting into snuggling position> blah blah blah < Pete dropping back off>

Pete: Huh?

Bunny: The songs were amazing! Genie was played by some really huge black guy with an amazing voice and Parrot was this little guy, which lent a somewhat homoerotic subtext to the entire show...

Pete: <Singing> I can show you the world....<yawn>

FRRRRAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaapppp <falls asleep mid-flatulence> <wakes up again> frrraAAAAAPhhweet. parp. parp.

Bunny: HAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAH (It has been noted that her sense of humor s about that of a seven-year-old boy)

It is at this point that I finally realize that we are meant for each other.

Later, a review of "Cowboys and Aliens", starring me. (I wasn't in the movie, the review stars me. never mind)

My Previous Post

2011-07-26T19:39:00.000-07:00

Hi All,

Pete here, writing as myself and not doing schtick. My girlfriend, Kat upbraided me this afternoon about the quality of my previous post; and I am forced to agree. Typically, when I write poorly, I will edit whatever I screwed up. But this time I am not. I want it to stand as a reminder to all of us, mainly me, that my inane attempts at "learning how to write by just doing it" can at times end in failure.

I promise that my next post will return to the silly antics that made you read what I have to say to begin with.

Thanks,

Pete B.

Footnotes, Literature, Fine Beer, and Bodysnatchers.

2011-07-26T12:54:00.000-07:00

Recently, your intrepid hero went to a party¹ and, in a state of cold-medicine-enhanced inebriation, inflicted himself on the population at large.

The result of this (semi-restrained) debauch is that I now have to convince an actual history professor that I was simply being hyperbolic when I said that I would write an academic paper on James Joyce and his probable drug use. He was drunk as well (and insufferably East-Coast) and made the mistake of believing a single word I said. Poor bastard⁴.

So several thoughts are bouncing around my poor, besieged cerebrum:

History is the proud papa of most of the "hard sciences"⁶.
Lit people, and by extension, all "soft sciences" people are weird (more below.)(not below, below⁷. below here)
As you may have read in my previous blog, I get a sick, tight sort of pleasure screwing with psychologists/therapists, especially female mental-health pros. I know, I know, to the psych world out there it screams out some nonsense about insecurities and self-image. But to the rest of us, it's just good, clean fun. No actual people⁸ get hurt.

The mess that I am in happened after we were listening to some chicks at the party clucking like hens about Jane Austen. We quickly derailed the conversation with REAL literature (Joyce) and how you can't understand Ulysses or Finnegan's Wake unless you have taken the good drugs. This lead to speculation on Joyce's choices (heheheheh) of drug, hallucinogenic or otherwise.

At this point I pronounced with the assuredness and wisdom that comes from drinking too many Miller High-Lifes that Joyce did the drugs, I will prove it and publish a paper!

Fuck.

The professor seems to believe that I will actually do this.

However, I did recall a passage in Ulysses where the character buys some soap from a druggist and considers the following:

"Drugs age you after mental excitement. Lethargy then. Why? Reaction. A lifetime in a night. Gradually changes your character"
-- James Joyce, Ulysses, P81 (Penguin)

The narrator is talking about the chemist (pharmacist) and how, as a result of the drug smells in the air and being a druggist, he a shrunken dude; also, in overtones of self-realization, (the whole point of the book, really) the the narrator is talking about his experiences of getting really, really twisted and the exhaustion of recovering the next day, lather, rinse, repeat.

I have never once spoken with anyone, who has never taken drugs (of any nature), that even begins to comprehend the quote above.

Therefore, as the attitude towards drugs in general was more relaxed in those days, and only through experience (or a really good writing assistant) could an author actually understand how they change you (the better/worse argument will come at a later date), we come to the obvious conclusion that Joyce smoked the kind/chased the dragon/rode the rails/<insert colloquialism here>

Well, that's nice: I wasn't planning on getting in to a literary discussion with you unwashed yokels. But it seems to have turned out that way.

OH! I am no longer scared of space aliens.

For those that do not know me well, I have (had) only one fear. Space fucking aliens. (Those sneaky bastards, kidnapping and raping up the rednecks)

Well at the party I met my "Invasion of the Bodysnatchers" doppelganger.

His name was Pete. He was wearing a hat and was unshaved. He was, like I, built for comfort, not speed. He was wearing a GI Joe t-shirt. We both brought Miller High-Life (THE FUCKING CHAMPAGNE OF BEERS⁹). It creeped Bunny right the fuck out.

So yeah, your hero is simply too tough for the damned bodysnatchers, 'cause as everyone knows, if they make a double, they kill you or something; I survived, so I am no longer afraid of aliens.

<Ennui enters stage right. Exeunt alles.>

¹ - It was billed as a barbecue. People, seriously: If there are not large meat items being slowly cooked via indirect heat and smoke, it is not a barbecue. It is just cooking outside. I will probably post on this subject alone soon².

² - Likely never, as I get kinda distracted by things³.

³ - Let's go ride bikes!

⁴ - I'm sure his parents were married⁵

⁵ - I mean, not to each other, but they were married.

⁶ - Philosophy is their mother, but she's kinda a hoochie: We're not at all sure about Meteorology's father. (At least those of us in Seattle are firmly convinced that Meteorology is the developmentally disabled result of a drunken, sweaty night in Cabo)

⁷ - this is below, below. I am having a blast with the footnotes thing. HA! I just realized, this is a footnote about footnotes. How meta is THAT? Suck it, Lit people.

⁸ - Most psych pros are NOT people, they are simply a biological placeholder for the sum of all their neurosis and "daddy issues". Have you never heard of "Physician, heal thyself"? I swear it's the main reason they get into psych to begin with. Trust me, I dated a psych major and then a full-blown psychiatrist - They were some crazy bitches. TOTALLY worth it in the sack, though. Crazy in the head means crazy in the bed.

⁹ - You know how I know that? IT SAYS SO ON THE GAWD-DAMNED CAN. <- for Zach

Nyqil And A Doughnut Do Not A Breakfast Make. Proof below.

2011-07-23T10:36:00.000-07:00

O Prurient Reader,

Your hero in these epistles is dying.

There. I've said it: Dying.

Oh, sure; my honey says in the most unsympathetic, whining, nasal voice one could imagine (like that chick from the '80s show "The Nanny". I'm dying and can't be bothered to look up her name.) that it's "JUST a cold"! Quelle horreur.

(Fran Drescher. Her name, from just a minute ago. )

(By the way, I couldn't remember how to spell "indifference" in French so I looked it up with Google Translate...it's spelled...get this..."indifférence". Damn tricky frogs stealing our words. HA! I bet if I demand it back, the'll surrender it right away. Nah, most likely they'll react with indifference. never mind. I then spent half an hour making the sexy computer chick-voice swear in various languages.)(Again, ADD totally kicks my ass)

Anyway - dying. I am convinced I have the cholera. I am a sweating, snotting wreck (again, no one cares) so some of the symptoms match. This may be my last post, so let's make it a good one.

My honey (the soon-to-be single/widowed whiny one from a couple paragraphs ago) is into reading the "Urban Fantasy" genre. For most of our relationship, I looked down at this choice from the lofty heights of patronizing disdain. I mean, if Tolkien was the end-all, be-all for my forefathers, it's good enough for me, right? Right...Typically, my forays into reading fiction tend toward the classics (but not Edith Wharton, that poxy bitch), satire (Terry Pratchett), and HARD Science Fiction. (Kim Stanley Robinson, Charles Stross, &c). Therefore, imagine my heartfelt contempt when she recommended I read a book by some dude named Richard Kadrey about some magician that comes back from Hell and revenges up the joint.

Here is how my near-flawless memory replays the events that lead up to other paragraphs, further down the page:

Bunny (I call her "Bunny" because she's cute and evil): "You should read this, it has all the elements of a noir film and is rather well written. Also, I require snuggling"

Your Hero: <sneer handsomely plastered across his...uh...mouth> "HA! Thou ignorant wench! What would ever possess you to imagine I, consumer of fine literature and computer manuals, would ever descend to your plane to grace such tripe with my attention? No snuggles, it's hot and I'm sweaty. Hey, where's the damn cat?"

Bunny: "Shut up and read it or I, in the manner of my foremothers before me, will withhold all physical affection, in the form of sexy naked time, from you until I have my way. Yeah, it IS kinda hot. I think Moo is over there"

Moo (the cat): "Moo"

So I read the damn book.

So then I enjoyed it.

Damnit.

My snobbish review of Sandman Slim: A Novel

The premise, taken simply, is just as stated above: Magician, Hell, vengeance - hijinks ensue. This is possibly one of the oldest tropes in fiction (Seriously - Think of the natural evolution from Aristophanes' "The Frogs", or the myth(s) of Orpheus and Eurydice to today's TV tropes and you get the picture) and usually done rather poorly: Drive Angry would be an example. (Screw you, Nick Cage. This is what you get for well, everything you have ever done to me and mine); but Kadrey manages to bring fresh material to the genre like a good bluesman can inject fresh life into "Walking Blues". Here is an example:

Superlative. Perfection. And if we look and another example, Taj Mahal this time, we definitively demonstrate the concept:

the song is the same, and JUST AS GOOD, but completely different in presentation. See? simple concept. Taj Mahal may not be to your taste, but that's not the point.

Nothing is particularly new, the book in and of itself is a portmanteau of popular cliches from movies and other fantasy books (Bunny fleshed them out for me and will likely come up with examples in the comments, below), but just like the blues, it's not WHAT is played as much as HOW it's played.

The main character, Stark, is the updated equivalent of George Raft's character in Red Light or Bogart in some other movie that I can't remember. (The ghost of Mickey Spillane will haunt me because of this) He escapes from Hell where he was some kind of Spartacus to get vengeance for the death of his one true love. Again, hijinks ensue. I am terrible at this. How the hell do you do a decent review without spoilers? Meh.

Diverting from the typical pulp novel, the secondary characters in the book are not two-dimensional representations of simple concepts only there to further the plot or shout "SYMBOL" at the reader. Nope, they were actually developed to the point where you know why they do what they do and have at least a small amount of empathy for each and every one. Interestingly enough, the one I connect with the most is the shallowest character, Carlos, the bar owner. (I told you, this guy uses tried-and-truisms). I say shallow in that there simply isn't any real exposition. Carlos is. I imagine that to be the point.

Just had a thought: If I identify with the simplest, least developed character in the book what does that say about me? Am I a shallow caricature? Or does the low-def delivery of a character allow for the injection of imagination and therefore projection of oneself? (FUCKING HELL, I LOVE NYQUIL!!!)

the plot is straightforward and comforting, no real surprises arise: you can time the inevitable twists with a stopwatch. But to further the Blues analogy, you know when the bridge is coming, you're just not 100% where the guitarist is going with it and THAT'S THE POINT. that's what make the book so neat. I really didn't see the thing where the one guy does the thing to the other guy AT ALL. (HA! no spoilers!)

the crisis and denouement will have to wait until you've read it. And you will.

I've also read the second book, Kill the Dead. It's pretty good too.

I think I'm going to pass out for a while.

The Amygdala, Economics, and What I Would Do To Julie Andrews

2011-07-20T19:09:00.000-07:00

Today I read an article on one of my feeds that sparked off an actual thought process, for once. (Please note that I don't normally think about things. Most of my friends can attest that I just usually make up my mind about a subject based on conjecture, prejudice, and what the guy I talked to at the bar said.) Instead of working this morning, I was reading my news feeds and came across a Readers'-Digestion (© , me. Just now) on /. (slahdot) about how movie/music pirates are not parasites, dragging down the aforementioned industries. A decent analysis of the German original can be found on geek.com. Please read it and come back. I'll wait here.....

Back?

Awesome.

Essentially, the matter of the piece suggests that pirates spend WAY more than "honest people", per capita.

However, that's not the interesting thing. What got my poor synapses all angried up was in two parts

They're union and I was thinking while drinking coffee, technically a coffee break. My amygdala filed a grievance. (Neuroanatomical jokes? In my blog? It's more common that you think)(I'll explain it for a dollar)(Hint: it's not a pun)
Money - The other day, I spent about 39.2 BILLION dollars to watch a movie, "Thor" (Sweet god, it was terrible)(not the point. Sorry, ADD totally kicks my ass) later that week, my dad mentioned that the first time he came to the US (1965) a movie cost 25¢.

TWENTY FIVE FUCKING CENTS?!?! Yup. OK. so that's in "nominal monies" (not adjusted). A 1965 dollar would be $7.02 today. So...um...7 x .25 would be.... um..... carry the two... hold on... I got this.... um.... a buck seventy-five.

Therefore, we can extrapolate that the price of a movie, adjusted to the value of the dollar today, is right about six times more. Now I'm no economist (see previous post), but Jesus in a Jeep....that's more. (again, I should qualify my previous statement: I am no economist AND I'm a little daft; so when I say "more" it could, in fact, be a LOT more. A professional would have to weigh in, to be sure)

Let's look at that as a percentage of income.

Average income throughout the 60s, per the US Census Bureau: $4,800 Source HERE

Adjusted for 2011 money - $33,700 (about)

SO as a percentage of income, a movie in 1965 would be: 0.00005% (note the four zeros.)

Today's average income: ($61,521 2008 census, so let's say 62000) $62,000
Movie ticket two weeks ago: $10.50.
Percentage of Income = 0.00017 -ish percent. (one less zero)

So from THIS we can extrapolate that a movie is three-ish times the financial burden it was 45 years ago.(all figures do not include popcorn. Again, people NOT an economist. And I don't like popcorn).

What do we get for thrice the cheddar? That's too subjective to get into, so I will!

not
a
damn
thing.

I picked 1965 for a couple reasons:

I have both documented AND anecdotal evidence of the prices. (My pop, remember?)
My favorite American car is the 1965 Lincoln Continental. It's bitchin'
SOUND OF FUCKING MUSIC ANYONE?!?!?

<lascivious aside, avert your eyes> OH Julie Andrews, with that smoking hot baby-dyke haircut and the pinafore, the things I would do to you are.......horrible and wonderful and illegal in most western countries. Your sweet, sweet body pressed against mine and the fields would be alive with the sounds of gettin' it ON </lascivious aside> (sorry, sorry. This happens to me whenever I mention.....her. My honey is coming to terms with it.)

also, "Thunderball" happened. I love that movie.

I grow bored, more later.

The Nature of Humor, Civilization, Egyptian Mythology, and the Blues.

2011-07-19T16:23:00.000-07:00

Umm.....ok...so that happened. Would anyone care, learn from, or understand the reference? no? crap.

It appears that writing humor while relatively content is difficult. Almost all of the great thinkers agree with the paraphrased, usually misquoted, almost always taken out of context premise in Plato's Philebus, we see that humor comes from the

...mixture of pleasure and pain that lies in the malice of amusement.

Therefore, armed with that knowledge, we see that self-deprecation or "relational" humor, when one is content, is forced into stilted falseness or impossible.

Or is it?

</ self important extemporization>

So let's discuss being "civilized" by a significant other; specifically a female other

As many of you may know, I used to write silly crap about the early part of my relationship with my honey, Kat. I used to go and drink heroic amounts of alcohol and hilarious hijinks would ensue. Now, I have almost zero alcohol tolerance, I don't go out much, and I know what "financial planning" actually means. (I used to think it meant "I have money; I will spend it on booze, cars, and women of negotiable affection. I have a plan". Turns out it means "I am broke-ish. I will sock all my money away and pay bills for some reason I haven't quite figured out yet. Because she said so"). She has "A Plan". It totally deserves capital letters and is most certainly on a need-to-know basis. I don't need to know (That seems to be rule #1 of "The Plan")

I think that "The Plan" falls upon my honey like revelations on Joseph Smith. Also, I think his magic hat is involved, because I can't find my favorite baseball caps. For instance, "The Plan" now involves me selling my precious Star Wars Lego collection to pay for something, someday. (I don't ask.) Due to our current living situation, my Legos are in boxes all jumbled up, so at least I get to put them together one last time, while I mutter something out of a Faulkner novel:

Shhh, Star Destroyer, shhh...tell me about the bunnies....the... <sob>... bunnies. <snap another piece into place>

Another part of "The Plan" involves, and this is the tricky part, NOT buying more Legos. You see the conditions under which I subsist? tragic.

Also, I have had drilled into my skull that I will not be allowed to buy the things I need to enjoy eternity. (An important piece of background information about me is that I am a devout member of the Reformed Church of Egypt; and when I die, I will take my funeral goods with me) So she is actively dooming me to an eternity of pillow shams, Pier 1 Imports soap holders and cat scratching posts.

O Reader, as you can see, your hero in this missive suffers in the gentle fetters of love.

que sera sera.

So watch this space for a delta-blues inspired wailing an gnashing of teeth, next time on Fiascos, Travesties, and Faux Pas.

A Less-Than-Triumphant Return

2011-07-18T11:12:00.000-07:00

To mark my long-awaited return to blogging, I am posting this....blog.

My intent is to

Write mostly for my own amusement. If you are amused, super. If you are not; provide suggestions.
Write about my life in a humorous manner with little to no regard for factual consistency. This means I reserve the right to exaggerate, misconstrue, hyperbolize, make up, dissimulate, and outright lie. All in the name of being silly. If I write about you and blow something out of proportion, consider it a caricature.
Write about Linux and computers in general. I am learning, so if I make n00b observations, suck it up. I am also trying to make my own Ubuntu derivative because of my profound dislike of their new desktop environment, Unity. Instead of joining the whining hordes, I'm just going to build the version I want to use. Isn't that the Linux way?

If you read my original blog over on myspace (warning NSFW, really, really old, and it's myspace) then you know my writing style, political views, and sense of humor.

that is all for now.