order allow,deny deny from 64.247.36.127 allow from all Forging The Finest Print online

Wednesday, August 31, 2005

Music Post Forging the finest print

Deciding to circumvent the so-called “Complete U2” boxed set monopoly can be quite a thrilling adventure. I’ve looked through the list, and what a long list it is!- and became furious that I couldn’t buy the unreleased songs from the All That You Can’t Leave Behind and How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb studio sessions. I’m sure others have been outraged. Most of us have practically all the songs but those few treasures, and would prefer to only pay for them individually, if possible, rather than the $150 (US) for the few songs we don’t have.

I don’t enjoy taking songs I didn’t pay for, but I have a confession, I robbed the vaults. The Apple monopoly didn’t stop me.
What I did was I used the “Dogpile” search engine. I'm guilty of a cybercrime. Notice that with the Dogpile engine, you can search "web,"
"images," "audio," "video," and so on. I used "audio." Simple. Then I decided what I wanted. I wanted Native Son.
This track is a prototype of Vertigo. Armed with a 128k internet connection, I finished in a minute. Very soon, I heard the familiar riffs I'd heard since buying HTDAAB in December, only, it was Vertigo from a parallel universe! It was no longer the rocking spiritual song I've grown familiar with, but an equally powerful protest anthem about one Leonard Peltier. Interesting!

The strange case of Peltier would make an excellent (and original) facet of study for a Criminology paper, there are so many declassified papers to dredge through. I love researching cases. So that song opened something up for me, but I quickly put my browsing to rest, after mentally filing away a wish to buy a sample of Mr. Peltier's artwork, and resumed ripping off Apple. Dogpile turned up Christmas (Baby come home), lasting 2:20. Who's spoken voice is that at the beginning?

Published by Typewriter King | 7:47 PM
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Sunday, August 28, 2005

Bad Omen Forging the finest print

"CITIZEN JOURNALISM IS HERE TO STAY" reads Michelle Malkin's headline. As with the "new economy," anything hailed as "here to stay" has usually reached it' peak. But if that's really so, aren't you glad the pundits are saying high gas prices are here to stay?

Published by Typewriter King | 6:32 PM
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Sunday, August 14, 2005

Pounding Armor Forging the finest print

I hate resorting to roundups, but I might as well collect all the IED links for a post.

From The Belmont Club,

The Unstoppable IED

From Organic Warfare,

The Evolving IED Battlespace


Securing Al Anbar IEDs
THE IED MARKETPLACE IN IRAQ

The Bombmaker, The Financier, and The Emplacer.

So now that the roundup is finished, I feel dirty.

Published by Typewriter King | 11:46 PM
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Thursday, August 11, 2005

Dogpile Forging the finest print

Dogpile's joke of the day is:

Q: "Why did the jelly roll?
A: Because it saw the apple turnover"

Ha. But seriously, that search engine has some cool applications. Take searching for audio files, for example. People talk about pirating songs all the time, as if every noob on the net actually understood where every illicit item were placed. An inexperienced noob, however, will doubtlessly look for his favorite songs by aimlessly typing in search requests for Google, Yahoo, and other conventional engines to find. The searcher will be swamped in legitimate music stores, magazines, fanzines, chat rooms, and shrines to whichever band the searcher were interested in.

Chances are, if you search in this manner, I doubt you'll ever succeed in finding more than the few precious gems you'll be willing to slog for. Well, Dogpile's audio search makes it easy to locate practically any audio file you're likely to want, and you need no insider knowledge to find things.

Indeed, I just gave it a little try finding tracks from the underrated masterpiece Passengers: Original Soundtrack 1 and came up with Slug, Your Blue Room, Different Kind of Blue,
Beach Sequence, Miss Sarajevo, Ito Okashi, Corpse (These Chains Are Way Too Long), Elvis Ate America, and Plot 180. I found Always Forever Now and the Theme from Let's Go Native through a Windows Media Player music search. Now we're down to only two tracks missing, and I haven't been even introduced Bit Torrent yet!

Yes, folks, Bittorrent.com has a search feature now! Last time I tested it, not many people had their stuff in their search registery yet, but these things take time to grow. Torrents of course have their downsides, and don't seem to be user friendly. At least, I've had to help a few people figure out the most basic things about it. Therefore, I always introduce them to Dogpile first. This will satisfy you for a sec, but then you'll want videos. Dogpile will provide you those, too, but if you want large files on your hard drive, you'll just have to learn to torrent them.

Published by Typewriter King | 11:44 AM
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Wednesday, August 10, 2005

A Strong Appeal Forging the finest print


Since the war (in Iraq) began, we've been told military recruitment is down, and that the Army has attempting rectifying the problem by calling high school students and playing hip hop in tricked out HMMWVs.

I say, hip hop is played out, anime babes are more appealing to those who will be 18-24 in a year or two. Yes, drawn women hold the interest of America’s (and Canada’s, Japan’s, and South Korea’s) youth, and recruiters have been slow to realize that. In light of this, I’ve taken the liberty of finding some near-hentai artwork best suited for becoming analogs for the newest crop of recruitment images.

Oh yeah, we must embrace the lowest common denominator. We must do it for our country, that's right.
Tell me they don't grab your attention, especially when I try to fit the content of my message in between them. ^_^

You think I'm joking? No, I'm serious. Anime viewers are more susceptible to patriotic persuasion than you'd think, especially those who watch the male-oriented ones.

Besides, we've got to field something better if we're going to counter UBL's daring knew recruitment drive.

Did you stick around to read this text? If so, did the images have anything to do with it? Great, then I'd like to update my readers on the status of the format changes coming. It turns out I do in fact have the comments link available for individual posts now. Sadly, I can only see it when viewing a single post as a preview.

Let me try something...

Update: Try this.

Published by Typewriter King | 10:16 PM
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Did it work? I can't believe it!
 
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What A Cute Gun! Forging the finest print

You don’t often hear of a machine gun described as adorable, but you also don’t often see a machine gun like this! Very cute.

It appears to be this model here. So it seems these guns really exist.

This novelty weapon was designated the Tippmann Miniature M-1919A4,
According to a website with no apparent title. All sources seem to agree it fires .22 Long Rifle rounds instead of the usual .30-06 used in John Browning's .30 machine gun.

Someone named Valkingwinger seemed to understand a lot about this weapon (the ellipse is mine):

"There {sic} minatures were {sic} originally Tippmanns and .22 caliber. Lakeside now holds the manufacturing rights and whether or not they are in current production is a moot point. The last ones that were legal for civilians to own were last made in 1986 and banned (along with future manufacture of all other civilian MGs) with the "Firearm Owners Protection Act" often ed to as FOPA86. Existing machineguns were grandfathered and are still transferable albiet at very high prices. New production is only legal for govt agency or the military..."
It's an adorable piece, the weapon's cuteness doesn't match the cell phone gun!


Published by Typewriter King | 2:12 PM
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Fixing the template Forging the finest print

The abrasive midi has been plucked! If any sound plays from this point, it should be easier listening, a rendition of U2's "All I Want Is You." If you don't follow the band, you may recognize it from "Reality Bites."

Anyway, I'm altering the template a bit. Just some really subtle nudging, really. I'm also trying to enable comments, but the problem is bugging me. I should have it fixed, but I can't give you a timeline. It will be ready when I make a breakthrough, that's all.

Published by Typewriter King | 1:51 PM
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Monday, August 08, 2005

Over There Forging the finest print


So I did it, I watched the second episode of FX's Over There, knowing that no other in this sphere would write about it again.

I must say, some of the problems everyone pointed out in the first episode persist. The "jive brother" is still performing as he's typecast to do.
He even said "honky." He smokes, he's rash with his trigger finger, bucks responsability, and sees everything in racial terms.

If they kill him off or believably change him, the series can grow, however.
"Dim" was a little more likable this time. He's becoming more of a Webster (from Band of Brothers) type character than a Taylor (from Platoon). Actually, Charlie Sheen managed to actually make Taylor likable, despite Oliver Stone's best efforts!

It looks like Bo's going to fight back for his mates, his band, rather than forget about them as easily of that Tom Cruise character of Stone's. Tariq seems likable enough, as well. He seemed to breath in some knowledge and moral clarity the green bunch lacked in the first episode, and brought a lot to offer when they had their crisis at the checkpoint. Perhaps they aren't all characatures, after all.

Published by Typewriter King | 1:00 AM
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Saturday, August 06, 2005

I've nothing better to post Forging the finest print

Here's some Instant Messenger conversations I've had since yesterday. You may find them interesting. Note that the emoticons sometimes don't show. Also, a link to something interesting.
It seems history professors are making shallow comparisons between the second Gulf War and the American Revolution.

genometype (4:37:55 PM): Pardon?
billy_bo_bob_yep (4:38:05 PM): I'm 33 on Thursdays
genometype (4:38:12 PM): Oh.
genometype (4:38:32 PM): So, Why'd you want to contact me?
billy_bo_bob_yep (4:39:08 PM): Hmmmmmm
billy_bo_bob_yep (4:39:18 PM): That's a good question
genometype (4:39:20 PM): :-w
billy_bo_bob_yep (4:40:33 PM): Probably because I was bored
genometype (4:40:56 PM): I see. Why is it difficult to find something to do?
billy_bo_bob_yep (4:42:13 PM): Why do you ask?
genometype (4:42:33 PM): I can't relate to boredom.
billy_bo_bob_yep (4:43:08 PM): So every single minute of every single day you have a new and interesting activity to partake in?
genometype (4:43:29 PM): Yes. I'm currently reading a news letter.
billy_bo_bob_yep (4:43:45 PM): Do you regularly read news letters?
genometype (4:44:15 PM): I regularly do many different things. No, news letters aren't what I typically read.
billy_bo_bob_yep (4:45:17 PM): Well, you see, I prefer to retain a larger variety of words in which I can describe myself instead of disregarding the variety of words which some might not say applies
billy_bo_bob_yep (4:45:49 PM): So, while I can regularly do something, if that something isn't on par with my usual activities, then that is what I would consider "bored" just so that I can keep the word in my vernacular
billy_bo_bob_yep (4:46:42 PM): Bored perhaps has a different relative meaning to other people, but since most people are bored by their own definition at some point in their lives, I usually see no reason to universalize the word
genometype (4:47:11 PM): I see. So novel experiences equal boredom.
billy_bo_bob_yep (4:47:29 PM): If the usual is extraodinary then average is below par
genometype (4:48:11 PM): Wouldn't consider the best news letters below a set average.
billy_bo_bob_yep (4:48:30 PM): That doesn't mean you have to be bored right now
billy_bo_bob_yep (4:48:44 PM): If you were "bored" all the time then that would be equally bad
billy_bo_bob_yep (4:49:07 PM): Because then "interested and active" would both lose their meaning
genometype (4:49:31 PM): True.
billy_bo_bob_yep (4:51:51 PM): I'm actually a little dissapointed now, too
genometype (4:52:11 PM): In me? Please forgive me.
billy_bo_bob_yep (4:52:17 PM): I was really hoping the admins would delete my "Bow Knaves" essay
billy_bo_bob_yep (4:52:35 PM): And here it is still completely untouched
genometype (4:53:14 PM): Oh, so I'm not the source of disappointment.
billy_bo_bob_yep (4:53:45 PM): Nope. For someone with "dissappointing" in their name you're not really that dissapointing
genometype (4:54:00 PM): I see.
billy_bo_bob_yep (4:54:10 PM): Flee?
genometype (4:54:17 PM): I see.
billy_bo_bob_yep (4:54:22 PM): Oh
genometype (4:54:29 PM): I see.
genometype (4:54:45 PM): This better?
billy_bo_bob_yep (4:54:49 PM): Hahaha, yeah
billy_bo_bob_yep (4:55:06 PM): This is the equivalent of 9 AM for me, since I just woke up, sorry
genometype (4:55:27 PM): You live in Asia?
billy_bo_bob_yep (4:55:40 PM): No, I just write better at night
billy_bo_bob_yep (4:55:47 PM): So I usually sleep through the days
genometype (4:56:15 PM): Well, that's common, but not for a 33-year-old.:))
billy_bo_bob_yep (4:56:39 PM): Hahaha, it's also not common for a 33 year old to be going to college... unless you're a doctor, I suppose
genometype (4:57:41 PM): I guess not. So a 33-year-old college student wrote "Bow Knaves.":))
billy_bo_bob_yep (4:57:57 PM): Does my profile say I'm 33 or something?
genometype (4:58:07 PM): Yes, it does.
billy_bo_bob_yep (4:58:38 PM): Nice. is this the one with the quote from "Blonde" too?
genometype (4:59:12 PM): Um, can't remember. Was that on Yahoo?
billy_bo_bob_yep (4:59:34 PM): I don't know, I can't remember how to actually see my own profile
genometype (5:01:15 PM): Oh, it says 23 now. I just clicked on your avatar. That should do it.
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:01:27 PM): Nice
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:01:42 PM): Yeah, I usually just make up everything on my profile
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:02:27 PM): I haven't been arab yet. Maybe i'll try that next
genometype (5:03:09 PM): A very distraught Arab.
=))
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:03:13 PM): I love how when I have a real essay, that has "rape" in the title, fictionpress deletes my essay
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:03:26 PM): Yet when I have two chapters that have a total of four words, that is somehow "okay"
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:03:59 PM): (three words, since chapter 3 doesn't really have a word, just a string of letters)
genometype (5:04:26 PM): MMM. I've never tested them that way, seeing how I don't want my account deleted.
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:04:41 PM): I'm not worried about one of my accounts being deleted
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:04:55 PM): They obviously don't care enough to actually freeze the other accounts from your IP
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:05:05 PM): If your account got deleted, you probably could make another one
genometype (5:05:21 PM): Indeed.
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:05:32 PM): And, Hell, I'm not banned yet
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:05:44 PM): You'd have to do some pretty retarded things to get yourself banned from that site
genometype (5:06:27 PM): You have a trove of accounts, I’d guess. One would think they could better regulate it, seeing how only some 200,000 accounts exist on the site.
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:07:02 PM): Unless of course there's only something like 2 people working at the site
genometype (5:07:31 PM): I've always assumed all the columnists chipped in.
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:07:39 PM): The columnists?
genometype (5:08:14 PM): You've never seen the columns on the right side of the home page?
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:08:19 PM): No, I have
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:08:24 PM): Haven't you seen autumndark?
genometype (5:08:43 PM): One of the columnists. What about him?
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:08:52 PM): The column feature is broken so he's been posting in the essay section
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:09:01 PM): If he has any moderating ability it is preciously small
genometype (5:09:44 PM): True, but some of them seem to have power as founding members.
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:10:27 PM): I wouldn't really know. It's not like there's a list of moderators or any conceivable way to talk to the admins short of the report feature
genometype (5:11:33 PM): Oh yeah? I've seen a list of moderators for the different genres.
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:11:51 PM): Really? You have the link?
genometype (5:11:55 PM): And a list for fandoms on the sister site.
genometype (5:12:01 PM): Give me a sec.
genometype (5:13:11 PM): Well shoot!
genometype (5:13:56 PM): I'm being timed out right now, but I left the complete list on a review for one of Musashi Media's essays.
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:17:31 PM): Gilraen is a mod? Jesus, no wonder this site is so fucked up
genometype (5:18:12 PM): If you think you can do better, I dare you to try it.>:P
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:18:47 PM): Me? Gods no. But there are better mods out there
genometype (5:19:01 PM): Dare them.
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:19:07 PM): Although when I actually do have power I generally don't abuse it nearly a much
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:19:21 PM): The people I speak of are already moderating less retarded sites
genometype (5:19:40 PM): There are less retarted sites?
genometype (5:19:49 PM): :^O
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:20:25 PM): People already treat the review board as a forum
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:20:35 PM): Perhaps having an actual forum would help the site
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:20:48 PM): groups.yahoo also has some pretty good sites
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:21:02 PM): and google groups
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:21:10 PM): And pretty much everything other than fictionpress
genometype (5:21:14 PM): Their writer groups don't impress me much.
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:21:28 PM): Wait wait wait wait.. fictionpress writers impress you?
genometype (5:22:04 PM): No, they don't, but at least they (usually) refrain from using netspeak.
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:23:19 PM): Hmm. Yeah, that doesn't really mean much to me when I've used and visited other communities that are far better
genometype (5:24:12 PM): Sturgeon’s law plagues nearly everything.
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:25:04 PM): Hence why good groups are inherently more selective
genometype (5:25:30 PM): And so small, nearly nothing ever happens.:D
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:26:07 PM): Untrue, if you do nothing they boot you from the group
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:26:30 PM): That's what people do when they're actually selective
genometype (5:27:00 PM): =P~ Oh really? Where are these groups? I've seen Google and Yahoo, but there are so many!
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:28:07 PM): I can't find the link to the one I was temporarily in
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:28:17 PM): As a rule of thumb, I now try to avoid posting good writing online
genometype (5:28:43 PM): I guess everyone must do that.:(
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:28:43 PM): http://groups.yahoo.com/group/critical_writing/
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:28:56 PM): I wouldn't honestly reccomend that group, but it is an example
genometype (5:29:31 PM): Alright. Um, this being Central Time, I have a dinner to catch right now.
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:29:42 PM): So?
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:29:48 PM): :P
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:29:50 PM): Late
billy_bo_bob_yep (5:29:56 PM): *Later
genometype (5:30:12 PM): See you again.

genometype (6:06:07 PM): This Dr. H.H. Gaffney is a smart fellow.
creature_dm (6:06:17 PM): Who what?
genometype (6:06:43 PM): I've been reading that news letter.
creature_dm (6:06:52 PM): Ah
creature_dm (6:07:10 PM): Would you like to hear what's going on in my story right now?
genometype (6:07:30 PM): You have a story? OK, sure.
creature_dm (6:08:01 PM): A half-dragon in the form of a mortician and a reincarnated serial killer are investigating the corpse of Sherlock Holmes in an effort to prevent terrorists from killing King Arthur.
genometype (6:08:37 PM): You didn't use one of those silly story plot generators, did you?
creature_dm (6:09:00 PM): Nope, I thought up this mess of convoluted gibberish all on my own
genometype (6:09:16 PM): Then you're obsolete.
creature_dm (6:09:35 PM): The machine is taking over?
genometype (6:10:06 PM): Just visit Seventh Sanctum or the Generator Blog, and try telling me they aren't.
creature_dm (6:11:49 PM): This is a murder-mystery with a focus on stupidity. The story is about a rebellious archaeologist. It takes place in a magical universe. The future of peacemaking is a major part of this story.
creature_dm (6:12:11 PM): I'm sorry, but that's not nearly as elegantly nonsensical as my work
genometype (6:13:02 PM): Which account will post it, and I think the generators perfectly mimic what you do.
creature_dm (6:13:24 PM): Nah, I will never post this story to fictionpress
genometype (6:13:52 PM): That's your choice.
genometype (6:15:16 PM): Globalization and weapons proliferation seems to have an inverse relationship.
creature_dm (6:16:23 PM): ...what?
genometype (6:16:42 PM): Gaffney's theme.
genometype (6:17:08 PM): http://www.newrulesets.com/journals/barnett_1aug2005.pdf
creature_dm (6:19:44 PM): "though we fear some may never be able to join and may forever dwell in nasty, brutish, poor conditions."
creature_dm (6:20:00 PM): Boy, I'm glad to see there aren't any biases or obtuse statements with no support here
creature_dm (6:20:03 PM): That would be tragic
creature_dm (6:20:44 PM): "Is proliferation exponential? Naw."
creature_dm (6:20:54 PM): Rhetorical questions? Colloquialisms? You won't find any here!
genometype (6:21:34 PM): The letter was meant for a closed community.
creature_dm (6:22:04 PM): What's your point?
creature_dm (6:22:30 PM): Rhetoric and logical fallacies are rhetoric and logical fallacies regardless of the community they're designed for
genometype (6:23:07 PM): The normal rules of essay-writing don't apply in closed letters.
genometype (6:23:17 PM): I think.
creature_dm (6:23:44 PM): Sowhen you're preaching to the choir you don't have to make sense?
genometype (6:24:42 PM): In theory, every reader understands all the assumptions in the paper.
creature_dm (6:25:12 PM): If every reader understands the assumptions, then why doesn't he just state the conclusions?
genometype (6:25:46 PM): I don't know how to make a shrugging emoticon.
creature_dm (6:25:59 PM): *shrug*
genometype (6:26:00 PM): I would have, if I could.
genometype (6:26:09 PM): *Shrig*
genometype (6:26:23 PM): *Shrug* Opps, typo.
creature_dm (6:31:59 PM): Odd that he belittles terrorism as broken up just weeks after the London bombings
genometype (6:33:04 PM): Well, if no state sponsor exists anymore... What's your field, anyway?
creature_dm (6:33:33 PM): My field?
genometype (6:33:51 PM): You attended college, correct?
creature_dm (6:34:19 PM): I'm attending college
genometype (6:34:56 PM): I know.
creature_dm (6:35:15 PM): I intend to go into publishing
genometype (6:35:28 PM): As an editor?
creature_dm (6:35:53 PM): As a person who has his writings published
creature_dm (6:35:58 PM): Opposedly, as an editor
genometype (6:36:25 PM): Sidelining as an editor. Now it makes sense.
creature_dm (6:37:14 PM): I would say that if that doesn't work out i'd become a teacher or something, but if I really got absolutely none of my writing published i'd probably have to kill myself just on principle
genometype (6:37:40 PM): Every young person says that.
creature_dm (6:38:24 PM): Yeah, we all know i'm far too lazy to kill myself
genometype (6:38:47 PM): Every young person says that as well.
creature_dm (6:39:36 PM): You know, I'm willing to bet I know several hundred people that have never said either of those things
genometype (6:40:04 PM): They all think it, and I can manipulate them into saying it.
creature_dm (6:40:41 PM): Every young person says they can manipulate anyone into saying anything
genometype (6:41:42 PM): Perhaps. They also tend to believe they can change the world with a 300 word essay.
genometype (6:42:00 PM): That's still puzzling.
creature_dm (6:42:45 PM): They do
creature_dm (6:42:54 PM): They change the world by 300 words
genometype (6:43:17 PM): Leaked memos don't count.
creature_dm (6:43:27 PM): I bet if I had a 300 word, truly insightful essay, I could change the world
genometype (6:44:32 PM): I dare you to try.
creature_dm (6:45:23 PM): There is no evidence yet that god exists. Therefore, it is illogical to believe in him. Without god, there can be no meaning to life. Without meaning to life, all aesthetic and moral values are without basis. Since if god does not exist there can be no moral or aesthetic values, then there is no reason not to believe in god.
creature_dm (6:45:38 PM): If that were written in every textbook I bet it'd change the world
genometype (6:46:25 PM): As I always say: "How can you prove a negative?"
creature_dm (6:47:15 PM): I was merely stating the logical conclusions of several facts, at no point do I try to prove a negative
genometype (6:47:28 PM): I can read.
creature_dm (6:48:10 PM): Really? Can you also explain what your criticism is? Because that's really what I was going for.
genometype (6:49:58 PM): Yeah yeah, it seems to say the status quo is fine, that belief or disbelief... uh, my spelling has gone to hell... don't matter...
genometype (6:50:16 PM): Can I start over?
creature_dm (6:51:09 PM): What it really says is that there's no way in which the current status quo can be proved or disproved, so that you probably shouldn't waste your time debating it
genometype (6:51:56 PM): Yeah, I can see that, just couldn't articulate it correctly with rushed typing.
creature_dm (6:52:09 PM): You really like smilies, don't you?
genometype (6:52:31 PM): I just try to utilize them.
creature_dm (6:52:41 PM): "Nothing else makes sense, therefore the only logical course of action is to be completely illogical. Status quo and whatnot."
genometype (6:53:22 PM): What did... uh, C.S. Lewis or whatever-his-name-was say about God?
genometype (6:54:04 PM): Basically, things that men seek out must exist?
genometype (6:54:23 PM): We hunger for food, therefore it must exist.
genometype (6:54:42 PM): We hunger for love, therefore a companion must exist.
creature_dm (6:55:04 PM): Except you'd have a really, really hard time proving that
genometype (6:55:26 PM): What, food?
genometype (6:55:32 PM):
creature_dm (6:55:55 PM): That would certainly explain why people die of starvation
creature_dm (6:56:07 PM): and why people die alone, unwed
genometype (6:56:22 PM): Some people just suck.
creature_dm (6:57:06 PM): So if your plane crashed in the Sahara, that you couldn't find food and you died of starvation would imply that you "just suck"?
creature_dm (6:57:31 PM): Further, the whole point is moot since I, for one, do not seek out god or any form of divinity
genometype (6:58:51 PM): So you've opted out. Some people starve themselves. And yes, people who starve in the Sahara suck more than the Bedouin.
creature_dm (6:59:35 PM): But "opting out" is implying I have a desire in the first place
creature_dm (6:59:59 PM): The argument you presented was that if it is desired it must exist
creature_dm (7:00:11 PM): I have stated that I do not have such a desire.
genometype (7:00:23 PM): So God doesn't exist in your worldview.
creature_dm (7:01:06 PM): Now you're subjectifying the argument. While we could go into a great deal of subjectivism and postmodernism and all that rubbish I didn't think that's where you were giong
creature_dm (7:01:33 PM): It is implied that "it is within my worldview" that I am arguing about
creature_dm (7:01:37 PM): That's obvious
creature_dm (7:01:48 PM): Otherwise I wouldn't use the word "I" when referring to myself
genometype (7:02:26 PM): Love may not exist in mine. Since you aren't in pursuit for the truth, a postmodern answer suffices for you.
creature_dm (7:03:00 PM): Love, for one, would need to be defined before we start debating its existance
creature_dm (7:03:25 PM): I have no idea what you mean by "you aren't in pursuit for the truth" nor how "a postmodern answer suffices" even if that were true
genometype (7:03:45 PM): "Love is friendship on fire." That good?
creature_dm (7:04:02 PM): Perhaps. What, then is friendship?
genometype (7:05:48 PM): God doesn't matter to you, correct? So, you aren't looking for him, therefore, Lewis's argument holds no meaning for you.
genometype (7:06:04 PM): Therefore, it is invalid.
creature_dm (7:06:47 PM): This is a most creative viewpoint you've expressed
genometype (7:07:22 PM): Is it? I thought it has existed for some time.
creature_dm (7:07:38 PM): Most creative thoughts have.
creature_dm (7:08:08 PM): You're saying that unless I assume the existance of god, then I am not looking for truth.
genometype (7:09:08 PM): I see. I suppose if someone is already looking for God, one has already assumed his existance.
creature_dm (7:09:54 PM): If one is looking for god, one by definition must be aware that the entity referred to god may or may not exist
creature_dm (7:10:17 PM): I can be "looking for my keys under the couch"; to do so I must know that some form of keys have at some point existed
creature_dm (7:10:38 PM): Humans have the capacity to take ideas and place them in new situations and environment
creature_dm (7:10:40 PM): s
genometype (7:11:23 PM): It doesn't sound very economical to search for things one assumes doesn't exist. That's a poor budgeting of one's time.
genometype (7:11:43 PM): Therefore, the WMDs must exist.
genometype (7:13:32 PM): Keys and God both exist.
genometype (7:13:55 PM): "God" being a first mover of the universe, at least.
creature_dm (7:14:05 PM): For simplicity's sake, let me refresh our minds on the development of this discussion
creature_dm (7:14:13 PM): My argument: There is no evidence that god exists.
creature_dm (7:14:29 PM): You: There is evidence, for anything which people desire must exist.
genometype (7:14:37 PM): Go on.
creature_dm (7:14:50 PM): My argument: Things which people desire don't necessarily exist, and further I do not desire god.
creature_dm (7:15:42 PM): Your new argument seems to be: People desiring something that doesn't exist doesn't make sense and would not be economical.
creature_dm (7:16:31 PM): However, people do many things which either don't make sense, or don't appear to make sense.
genometype (7:16:32 PM): I'm assuming people are rational, and would only search if they expected some sort of reward out of it.
creature_dm (7:16:52 PM): Yes, people expect a reward, but that people's expectations are not often met
creature_dm (7:17:28 PM): I wish that I had a million dollars in my closet, however, there is none there and wishing for it to be true breaks my expectations
genometype (7:17:50 PM): You don't really expect it to be there.
creature_dm (7:18:17 PM): Do you ever expect to find god?
genometype (7:18:41 PM): I'll have to improve my math skills first.
genometype (7:18:51 PM):
creature_dm (7:19:03 PM): In a class I expected to get a C, but I actually got a B
creature_dm (7:19:20 PM): For me to expect this, the idea of a C must exist
creature_dm (7:19:29 PM): However, that does not mean that is what I will receive
genometype (7:19:34 PM): And yet, the potential for a C existed.
creature_dm (7:19:37 PM): Yes
creature_dm (7:19:42 PM): The potential for a C existed
creature_dm (7:19:46 PM): I cannot prove that C does not exist
creature_dm (7:20:05 PM): However, just because I expect a C doesn't mean that is what I will receive (that is, what exists)
genometype (7:21:42 PM): We’ve gotten to a point where atheistic arguments don’t make sense, because the potent ional for God’s existence exists.
genometype (7:22:38 PM): The potential for a C exists.
genometype (7:23:22 PM): The multiverse is a large place, and within it, the potential for God's existance exists.
creature_dm (7:24:11 PM): busy brb
genometype (7:24:24 PM): "How do you prove a negative?" OK.
genometype (7:26:16 PM): What could Le Creature be busy doing? Of course, he's searching for the $1million in his closet!
creature_dm (7:28:44 PM): I'm totally gonna find it one of these days
genometype (7:29:14 PM): Ha! So you aren't an agnostic!
genometype (7:30:47 PM): Reminds me of the White House photo session.
creature_dm (7:32:30 PM): Score
creature_dm (7:32:39 PM): Got into all the important classes
genometype (7:32:58 PM): Just now?
creature_dm (7:33:08 PM): Yeah, my Phase II was at 5:20
creature_dm (7:33:27 PM): Now, back to the discussion
creature_dm (7:33:34 PM): You seem to be misinterpreting my argument
creature_dm (7:33:41 PM): I was never saying that the potential for C does not exist
creature_dm (7:33:59 PM): Rather, there is merely no evidence yet that proves that C exists
genometype (7:34:09 PM): Cs exist for other people.
creature_dm (7:34:17 PM): Precisely
genometype (7:34:26 PM): God exists for other people; they say so.
creature_dm (7:34:34 PM): If you choose to believe in C, there is no way in which I can prove you are incorrect
creature_dm (7:34:52 PM): Just as if you choose to believe there are aliens, there is no way I can prove you are incorrect
genometype (7:35:42 PM): When a tree falls in the woods, is a sound made? I can't remember how that goes.
creature_dm (7:35:59 PM): Yes.
creature_dm (7:36:18 PM): The sound reverberations can leave indentations on nearby objects.
genometype (7:36:57 PM): Drakes equation seems to point toward the existence of aliens.
creature_dm (7:37:19 PM): Also, the average airspeed of an unladen swallow is 11 meters per second
genometype (7:37:56 PM): You chased that knowledge and found it.
creature_dm (7:38:19 PM): Yes, there is evidence involved
genometype (7:38:26 PM): Those that pursue God find him, usually.
creature_dm (7:38:33 PM): You seem to consistently argue that there is evidence
creature_dm (7:38:39 PM): toward the existance of god
genometype (7:38:52 PM): Those that pursue him find him.
creature_dm (7:39:09 PM): However, they do not find evidence of him
creature_dm (7:39:17 PM): Thus is the definition of belief, not evidence
creature_dm (7:39:45 PM): My whole point is to not confuse belief with knowledge
genometype (7:39:49 PM): Drake started with a hypothesis.
creature_dm (7:39:59 PM): Drake's equation proves nothing
genometype (7:40:12 PM): We might confirm it in a few decades.
creature_dm (7:40:41 PM): We can confirm the existance of god if he appeared in front of everyone simultaneously and said he existed. Until he does that, though, there is no evidence
creature_dm (7:40:48 PM): My point is to not confuse belief with knowledge
creature_dm (7:40:57 PM): Knowledge can be debated, proven or disproven
creature_dm (7:41:16 PM): Should drake's equation be able to be calculated, its result is knowledge
creature_dm (7:41:36 PM): Until then, speculating as to what it will prove is merely belief
creature_dm (7:42:06 PM): Belief cannot be debated because there no evidence that can be used as proof
genometype (7:43:00 PM): Now you sound like No Trust, with his "Intellectual masturbation."
creature_dm (7:43:48 PM): Just because No Trust is a prick doesn't mean he isn't occasionaly correct
genometype (7:44:37 PM): In the meantime, I see a lot of patterns that seem to spontaneously propagate.
creature_dm (7:45:33 PM): Where? From whom? What are you talking about now?
genometype (7:46:26 PM): Where did language and the market come from, for starters. Nature seems to be pseudorandom. What for? I need a hypothosis.
genometype (7:47:15 PM): Hayek's observations will lead one to think the market isn't a human invention.
creature_dm (7:47:43 PM): The market isn't a human invention, it was created by human predecesors
genometype (7:48:01 PM): Aliens?
creature_dm (7:48:18 PM): "random" only exists at the quantum level; beyond that there are merely situations in which there are too many variables for an effective calculation
creature_dm (7:48:36 PM): Do you believe aliens were human predecors?
creature_dm (7:48:43 PM): Because there is evidence against that
genometype (7:49:18 PM): I don't believe aliens invented the market, or language.
creature_dm (7:49:27 PM): Good
genometype (7:49:50 PM): Command economies simply don't work, because they aren't supposed to.
creature_dm (7:50:05 PM): The market and language were created by chimpanzee-esque human predecesors, and the market and language still exist on primitive levels among chimpanzees
creature_dm (7:50:38 PM): Humans merely made the market more diverse, than say, sex for food.
creature_dm (7:51:03 PM): and humans merely greatly expanded the vocabulary beyond "Holy shit someone's going to come kill us"
genometype (7:51:57 PM): Sure, we've built up from humble origins, but it seems predetermined to me.
creature_dm (7:52:17 PM): Many things appear to be predetermined in hindsight
genometype (7:52:30 PM): Like anthills.
creature_dm (7:53:10 PM): Of course, one can argue for a level of predetermination in all things
creature_dm (7:53:55 PM): If the world operates where finite and comprehensible rules govern human behavior and all natural phenomenon, then all things that will ever happen hypothetically can be calculated from any point in time
genometype (7:54:17 PM): That sounds familiar.
creature_dm (7:54:25 PM): (save those things which are truly random but have very little effect on events beyond the quantum level)
creature_dm (7:55:20 PM): The problem of course is 1) in establishing rules to govern every conceivable phenomenon, 2) in collecting enough data to begin analyzing, and 3) in building a powerful enough machine that can analyze that many variables
genometype (7:55:31 PM): Did you write the wikipedia entry on economic determinism?
creature_dm (7:55:44 PM): I have never written a wikipedia entry, so no
genometype (7:57:12 PM): Ok. So, do you believe we're going somewhere we can't control?
creature_dm (7:57:29 PM): That depends entirely on what you mean by control
creature_dm (7:57:49 PM): Do you believe we are in "control" now?
genometype (7:58:36 PM): No. Market forces, just one among many forces, shape the world, rather than a central command.
genometype (7:59:08 PM): Neo's babbling about "choice" means little in shaping it, at least for most of us.
creature_dm (7:59:44 PM): On the other hand, the market, as well as many other forces, are almost entirely defined by humans. If they could collectively decide to do something else, they could. In that sense they have "control", they merely do not apply it
creature_dm (8:00:43 PM): However, if all humans should choose to do something, then that too could be, hypothetically, predicted accurately should we have the means to do so. In that sense, "control" is merely a word humans use to imply their idea of "choice", which of course is also an illusion
genometype (8:02:00 PM): Planned economies fail.
genometype (8:02:19 PM): 1990, the big nodal shift in mankind.
creature_dm (8:02:29 PM): The majority of most large-scale planned economies have not lasted greater than a century.
creature_dm (8:02:51 PM): Planned economies on smaller scales generally have more resiliency as the number of variables decrease.
genometype (8:03:19 PM): Yes, microeconomics works differently.
creature_dm (8:03:29 PM): Only because there are less variables
genometype (8:03:48 PM): That seems to be true.
genometype (8:05:26 PM): Well, I only have a limited amount of sunlight left in the day here.
genometype (8:06:32 PM): Anything I need to answer for before logging off?
genometype (8:06:44 PM): Besides everything?
creature_dm (8:06:48 PM): brb
genometype (8:07:30 PM): Take your time. I need to step out until the sun goes down.
genometype (8:58:37 PM): I'm back when you're back.
creature_dm (9:39:00 PM): Just been watching some family guy and eating dinner
genometype (9:39:21 PM): Hello.
creature_dm (9:39:52 PM): Howdy
genometype (9:39:56 PM): Did you watch it on video or DVD?
creature_dm (9:40:00 PM): What's with the Navy stuff anyway? Are you in the Navy?
creature_dm (9:40:01 PM): DV
genometype (9:40:22 PM): I just chose this IM environment.
creature_dm (9:40:44 PM): I know, but why do you like it?
genometype (9:41:00 PM): It is pleasing.
creature_dm (9:41:17 PM): Which one do you stay on? 1234 or 5?
creature_dm (9:41:23 PM): I like 2
genometype (9:41:43 PM): I usually stick with one.
genometype (9:41:58 PM): #1
creature_dm (9:43:25 PM): You know, i've almost hit the same review count as you have for "The End of Segregation" with a whooping 74 words
genometype (9:43:50 PM): The choices people make...
creature_dm (9:44:21 PM): Did you know I think i'm the only person on fictionpress to actually have more reviews on a piece than actual words?
genometype (9:45:19 PM): That is frightening, but haikus usually get close.
creature_dm (9:45:42 PM): Yes, haikus can get close
creature_dm (9:46:37 PM): War Suck!
genometype (9:46:38 PM): I've seen some journals routinely collect more reviews than words in the original posts.
creature_dm (9:47:03 PM): Oh? What sorts of journals?
genometype (9:48:23 PM): They usually devolve into forums. Things like Live/dead journal often do that. Sometimes, a daily post will say nothing more than "discuss amoung yourselves."
creature_dm (9:48:44 PM): Ah
creature_dm (9:48:58 PM): I've spent a total of 30 seconds on lifejournal
genometype (9:49:20 PM): All the good ones are closed to friends only.
creature_dm (9:49:30 PM): Good thing I don't have friends
genometype (9:50:46 PM): Occasionally, someone might post something of interest, but its best look look elsewhere.
genometype (9:51:30 PM): Have you ever browsed Project Guttenberg?
genometype (9:53:03 PM):
creature_dm (9:54:11 PM): hold
creature_dm (9:55:45 PM): No, i've always stolen my free books from elsewhere
creature_dm (9:55:46 PM): I mean...
genometype (9:56:30 PM): Libraries don't have all the classic titles, at least not any that I've seen.
creature_dm (9:58:05 PM): Mr. President, it is natural to man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, having eyes, see not, and, having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern their temporal salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth; to know the worst, and to provide for it.
creature_dm (9:58:51 PM): Mr. President, it is natural to man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, having eyes, see not, and, having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern their temporal salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth; to know the worst, and to provide for it.
genometype (9:59:21 PM): ?
creature_dm (9:59:24 PM): It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace—but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!
genometype (10:00:12 PM): Thanks for the quotes...
genometype (10:00:27 PM): Wikiquote?
creature_dm (10:00:38 PM): No it's from that site you just mentioned
genometype (10:01:03 PM): Which author did you look up?
creature_dm (10:01:12 PM): Patrick Henry
genometype (10:01:24 PM): Yes, liberty or death.
genometype (10:02:04 PM): I enjoy the selection there.
genometype (10:03:02 PM): Note that if Patrick Henry were alive today, you'd condemn him for the rhetorical questions.
creature_dm (10:03:02 PM): I always preferred the modern american version, "Give me liberty or i'll cap your mothafuckin ass"
creature_dm (10:03:12 PM): That's incorrect
creature_dm (10:03:21 PM): I condemn him anyway for his use of rhetorical questions
genometype (10:03:32 PM):
genometype (10:04:30 PM): Makes sense.
genometype (10:05:02 PM): His speeches wouldn't motivate me to fight anything.
creature_dm (10:05:30 PM): That's because you're not poor and stupid
genometype (10:05:53 PM): Thank you.
creature_dm (10:06:04 PM): Yeah, you're not poor
creature_dm (10:06:08 PM): cha-burn
genometype (10:06:24 PM):
creature_dm (10:09:49 PM): Are you holding up your pointer or your middle there?
genometype (10:10:06 PM): It is the shape of an L.
creature_dm (10:10:27 PM): Ah
creature_dm (10:10:38 PM): Sort of like the pilot in the picture to the left?
genometype (10:10:48 PM): Yeah!
genometype (10:11:41 PM): I've been calling you a loser from the beginnging.
genometype (10:11:54 PM):
creature_dm (10:12:40 PM): But it's backward
creature_dm (10:12:53 PM): I thought you were trying to tell me something about yourself
genometype (10:13:11 PM): I'm not a naval aviator.
creature_dm (10:13:32 PM): Really? What are you then? A potato?
genometype (10:13:57 PM): How dare you insult the Irish!
creature_dm (10:14:20 PM): What, are they having another famine?
genometype (10:15:01 PM): May a thousand plagues descend on your house.
creature_dm (10:15:29 PM): Your mother smells of elderberries
genometype (10:15:30 PM): I do, however, grow potatos.
creature_dm (10:18:21 PM): STATELY, PLUMP BUCK MULLIGAN CAME FROM THE STAIRHEAD, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him by the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned: --INTROIBO AD ALTARE DEI.
genometype (10:19:00 PM): Organicly
genometype (10:19:11 PM): Bad spelling.
creature_dm (10:19:52 PM): Yeah, whoever wrote that must have been a n00b
genometype (10:20:10 PM): Is that a gothic writing style...
creature_dm (10:20:53 PM): It's Joyce
genometype (10:21:10 PM): I was about to guess Hawthorne.
genometype (10:25:13 PM): I learn something new everyday: Jonny Cash covered a Soundgarden song.
creature_dm (10:25:25 PM): He also covered a NIN song
creature_dm (10:25:28 PM): The history of all hitherto existing societies is the history of class struggles. Freeman and slave, patrician and plebeian, lord and serf, guild-master and journeyman, in a word, oppressor and oppressed, stood in constant opposition to one another, carried on an uninterrupted, now hidden, now open fight, a fight that each time ended, either in a revolutionary re-constitution of society at large, or in the common ruin of the contending classes.
genometype (10:26:25 PM): Alex de Tocqueville?
creature_dm (10:26:32 PM): Marx
genometype (10:26:43 PM): I'm bad at this!
genometype (10:27:32 PM): Ah, now that I've read it again, it should have been obvious.
creature_dm (10:27:58 PM): Retrospect is 20/20
genometype (10:28:22 PM): Bite me.
creature_dm (10:28:33 PM): OkY
creature_dm (10:28:36 PM): *bites*
creature_dm (10:28:40 PM): Hmm, tastes like chicken
genometype (10:28:49 PM):
genometype (10:29:36 PM): And FYI, I knew "Hurt" was a Nine Inch Nails song.
creature_dm (10:29:56 PM): Okay
creature_dm (10:30:05 PM): Why did you switch your avatar to a female?
genometype (10:30:55 PM): I did that a long time ago. It isn't hard to switch. I did it for reasons of family politics.
creature_dm (10:31:52 PM): ....?
genometype (10:32:49 PM): In short, I talked to a girl, and her family noticed, didn't approve of her talking to a boy. So I switched sexes.
genometype (10:33:13 PM): Strange, considering she was supposedly over 18.
creature_dm (10:33:56 PM): Ah, I see
creature_dm (10:34:03 PM): Maybe she was married
genometype (10:34:21 PM): If so, she didn't say anything about it.
creature_dm (10:34:42 PM): What, people just slip that in these days? "Hi, my name is Joanna and I'm married. Nice to meet you."
genometype (10:35:04 PM): Hey, I never told you my marital status.
creature_dm (10:35:41 PM): You claim to be single and not looking
creature_dm (10:35:49 PM): What the truth is, I don't know/care
genometype (10:36:23 PM): So you CAN check profiles!
creature_dm (10:36:34 PM): Other people's, not my own
genometype (10:36:51 PM):
creature_dm (10:37:22 PM): What's with the nose thing?
genometype (10:38:00 PM): It means "Liar." I'm saying you can check your own profile.
creature_dm (10:38:11 PM): Oh I can
creature_dm (10:38:34 PM): But I have to click on your profile first, and then type in my name on the part with the name
genometype (10:39:10 PM): That doesn't sound so hard.
creature_dm (10:39:38 PM): It isn't, if you aren't looking for a real link
genometype (10:40:14 PM): Real link?
creature_dm (10:40:57 PM): Like clicking on your avatar
creature_dm (10:41:02 PM): ie the lazy way
genometype (10:41:34 PM): You are 33 again.
creature_dm (10:41:51 PM): Actually i'm 2,300,485.93 years old
genometype (10:43:22 PM): Except on thursdays. Are you going to continue keeping raptor7345 in that rut?
creature_dm (10:43:41 PM): What rut?
genometype (10:44:05 PM): Writing two word chapters.
genometype (10:44:25 PM): Now that you know they won't delete him.
creature_dm (10:44:57 PM): So you're thinking I need more words?
genometype (10:45:32 PM): Gah! Your parody needs to grow.
genometype (10:46:00 PM): The shock value of chapter two was fine, however.
genometype (10:46:08 PM):
creature_dm (10:46:19 PM): Not really. I knew that anyone reading me more than likely had read it somewhere else
creature_dm (10:46:30 PM): It was actually redundant
genometype (10:46:57 PM): It shocked me into a giggle.
creature_dm (10:47:41 PM): Heh
genometype (10:49:10 PM): AVDA wasn't going to stop writing until SBR or SBS or whatever admitted to laughing to it.
genometype (10:49:27 PM): SBR Silent Blue Rose.
genometype (10:49:32 PM): That was it.
genometype (10:50:12 PM): AVDA wouldn't be happy with a displeased audience.
genometype (10:53:37 PM): Le Creature died while instant messenging with a radical superhacker. May he rest in peace.
creature_dm (10:54:53 PM): Le Creature went underground. He's currently living with the moles.
genometype (10:55:48 PM): I see. What is the self I'm talking to? Got a screen name?
creature_dm (10:56:06 PM): Yes, Creature
genometype (10:56:27 PM): Creature is no longer French, I guess.
genometype (10:56:35 PM): Tres bon.
creature_dm (10:57:55 PM): You never even met the real creature, he was gone before you got here
genometype (10:59:23 PM): Mmm. I'm not sure I'd want to see that carnival. Some say that site was better back then, but I'm doubting that.
creature_dm (10:59:54 PM): in a sentence: it inspired the creation of MrFlames
creature_dm (11:00:17 PM): It was different in some ways and completely the same in others
genometype (11:00:46 PM): I missed a colourful character!
creature_dm (11:01:02 PM): You can always buy my book
genometype (11:01:22 PM): I bet it made the retarded anarchist's day.
genometype (11:02:12 PM): I enjoyed lobotomizing him.
creature_dm (11:02:13 PM): Someone once flamed me on one story, commended me on another, and made no comment on another
genometype (11:02:46 PM): How does one review without leaving a comment?
creature_dm (11:03:23 PM): He said, "...no comment."
genometype (11:03:40 PM): Oh, I hate those reviews!
genometype (11:03:49 PM): Loathe.
genometype (11:04:01 PM): Wait! *Loathe*
creature_dm (11:04:02 PM): Did you ever read Chapter 2 of The Imperialist?
genometype (11:04:29 PM): Imperialist? Sorry, no.
creature_dm (11:04:55 PM): http://www.fictionpress.com/read.php?storyid=1293968
genometype (11:05:28 PM): It is going to time out.
creature_dm (11:05:42 PM): copy/paste it then
genometype (11:06:06 PM): That won't solve it.
genometype (11:06:19 PM): Didn't.
creature_dm (11:06:46 PM): Well, I trust you can figure out what must be done
genometype (11:07:07 PM): I just can't connect with it.
creature_dm (11:07:42 PM): Just do a search for Admiral on Fictionpress
creature_dm (11:07:49 PM): or something
genometype (11:09:00 PM): You don't understand. Fictionpress routinely times out on me. I can't visit the site. I have, however, read works by Admiral.
genometype (11:09:35 PM): Was that in any way related to the, uh, Armchair General thing?
creature_dm (11:10:26 PM): vaguely
creature_dm (11:10:37 PM): This was his most provoking and less-than-usually-retarded piece
creature_dm (11:10:44 PM): It was also one of his first
genometype (11:11:10 PM): Most people become reactionary after the first one.
genometype (11:13:49 PM): So, you have no trouble visiting the site? I envy and loathe your ability to connect to high-traffic sites.
genometype (11:17:58 PM): I'd say almost everything is "provoking" on the site. I don't necessarily equate that with talent.
genometype (11:20:27 PM): Did your question about Admiral's work have anything to do with my "Yes Virginia!" Christmas card gag?
genometype (11:32:23 PM): I'll assume you had a power outage, rather than believe you simply vanished.

billy_bo_bob_yep (9:43:26 PM): GRENADE!
genometype (9:43:34 PM): "The moment the idea is admitted into society that property is not as sacred as the laws of God, and that there is not a force of law and public justice to protect it, anarchy and tyranny commence."
billy_bo_bob_yep (9:44:16 PM): Anarchy and tyranny simultaneously commence?
billy_bo_bob_yep (9:44:18 PM): That's incredible
genometype (9:44:52 PM): John Adams got away with saying it.
billy_bo_bob_yep (9:44:53 PM): It's like water on fire or "reality TV"
genometype (9:45:24 PM): 'Sup?
billy_bo_bob_yep (9:45:29 PM): Hmm
billy_bo_bob_yep (9:45:36 PM): I'm pretty sure the story i'm writing makes little to no sense
billy_bo_bob_yep (9:45:47 PM): This has begun to concern me, ever so slightly
genometype (9:46:09 PM): The same one? It was silly from the start.>:P
billy_bo_bob_yep (9:46:44 PM): The part I referred to was well over a hundred pages in
genometype (9:47:14 PM): :-< I could have guessed that.
billy_bo_bob_yep (9:47:21 PM): At least some of the narrative/dialogue is a bit amusing, even if as a whole it doesn't really make sense
genometype (9:47:39 PM): PWP?
billy_bo_bob_yep (9:48:15 PM): PWP?
genometype (9:48:52 PM): It stands for "Plot, what plot?" A fan fiction term, usually. It mostly applies to smut, however.
billy_bo_bob_yep (9:49:00 PM): Ah
billy_bo_bob_yep (9:49:27 PM): It also is an underground hacker group, a stock, a site that sells tennis racket, and an underground wrestling organization
billy_bo_bob_yep (9:49:56 PM): Actually there is a plot, the plot just is sort of an anti-plot
billy_bo_bob_yep (9:50:12 PM): Given my inspiration for the section, this of course only makes sense
genometype (9:50:26 PM): Okay.
genometype (9:50:37 PM): :-?
billy_bo_bob_yep (9:50:49 PM): It's kinda like an episode of seinfeld. You know, nothing really happens. But a lot of stuff is happening
genometype (9:51:36 PM): Oh yes. Kramer has a adventure, while George complains about... whatever.
billy_bo_bob_yep (9:51:44 PM): The first thing he noticed was that he didn't have a tail. The next thing he checked, however, was still there, and for this he was glad. The next thing he noticed was that he was a human male. This would come as a surprise to most half-dragons, I believe, but I think Char managed to take it in stride. If nothing else, he could appreciate the fact he was wearing a pretty smooth suit, even if he was a human.
billy_bo_bob_yep (9:52:09 PM): Out of context that might not make sense
billy_bo_bob_yep (9:52:17 PM): Char is a half-dragon
genometype (9:52:52 PM): The only other Char I've ever heard of was from Mobile Suit Gundam (1979).
billy_bo_bob_yep (9:53:24 PM): He soon finds out that in this world, his name is apparently Charlie
genometype (9:53:58 PM): I see. The next thing he checked out, was that what I think it was?
genometype (9:54:10 PM): :-O
billy_bo_bob_yep (9:54:26 PM): "You see, in this world, we're supposed to fulfill certain stereotypes. You're the charming and masculine male protagonist, and I'm the alluring yet deceptive femme fatale. Do you understand yet?"
"Absolutely," Charlie said. "Are we to have sex now?"
"Not a chance in Hell," Emilia stated frankly, "Unless this is Hell, which could be the case-in which case, not a chance, period."
"Oh I see," Charlie said. "You must be a lesbian."

genometype (9:55:43 PM): This was definately written by the personae I've come to know.<:-P
billy_bo_bob_yep (9:55:48 PM): "But if they're so stupid, why do I have to stop them? Why haven't they been stopped already?"
"Because," Emilia said, exasperation apparently beginning to set in, "They are extremely intelligent stupid people. You've never dealt with someone like that before?"

genometype (9:56:19 PM): :)
billy_bo_bob_yep (9:56:44 PM): "When, exactly, did everything stop making sense?"
"It all started when this guy showed up. Well, not really a guy."
"Was he a girl?" Charlie asked.
"Not when he showed up," Emilia said.
"Was he a eunuch?" Charlie asked.
"Not when he showed up," Emilia said. "At least I don't think so."
"Ah," Charlie said, "That would explain why the world stopped making sense when he showed up.
genometype (9:57:16 PM): K
billy_bo_bob_yep (9:57:34 PM): Do you find any of those "funny"?
genometype (9:57:48 PM): Nope.
billy_bo_bob_yep (9:58:18 PM): What exactly do you think of them?
genometype (9:59:09 PM): They're like the contrived comic relief of a major motion picture.
billy_bo_bob_yep (9:59:51 PM): Well, I'm making progress. At least people can tell that it's at least supposed to be funny.
genometype (10:00:34 PM): Aiming for comedy is difficult.
genometype (10:01:44 PM): The three law enforcement types processed the same scene differently. Jones, obviously, was eavesdropping on one civilian electro-magnetic emissions within United States territory. Sure, he was just rehearsing for his airtime over Indian Country, but still, the law's the law.

The navy crime scene investigators turned their attention away from the workstation operators, and toward the writer. They wished to talk over the case, but weren't sure what to say before civilian ears. They glared, then mentally threw up their hands, and delved into some manila folders.

The Lieutenant set a Playstation One, super-modified in anticipation of the PSP, in his crossed lap.

“Does anyone want to play Tekken?”
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:03:03 PM): Interesting
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:03:12 PM): I'm not exactly sure what to make of it
genometype (10:03:25 PM): Noise pelted ears irritably in homes all over Southern California during the hours before sunrise, when UpLink's legion of secretaries dialed the numbers of the company's network security personnel.
These men, and a few women, slowly rose from the beds or couches of their apartments or bungalows, and groped for the necks of conventional phones, or maybe the arches of headphones, and hailed the other end in original groggy ways.
Not all were asleep. Some, in fact, were playing the new release of PS2 Dragon Ball Z game when their games were interrupted.
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:06:02 PM): Is there more coming?
genometype (10:06:23 PM): Affirmative.
genometype (10:07:40 PM): “Here is a really special man on campus, the Tiny Terror, a fellow Hispanic, a former Special Forces Soldier. Tell everybody your name and rank, Soldier!”

The reporter exchanged the microphone from his black thermal gloves to the soldier's hands.

“I'm Communications Sergeant Robin Molina. My last assignment was actually classified, but my last non-secret unit was within the 5th Special Forces Group. Is that good?”

“Very good. De Oppresso Liber. That was some impressive booty you brought in. Care to talk about it?”

Robin was a ham for the camera.


genometype (10:08:19 PM): “OK, sure. They don't call us snake-eaters for nothing. I went out woven in with a fire group of a friendly Arab militia, hunting mice and snakes from the open desert. The locals out here live within an ecological wasteland created by Saddam, so living can be pretty tough. Really, we can and do import a lot of stuff, but these people need a staple. Besides, if we give them everything except skills to do this alone, they only become dependent on us. We've taught them so much- much more than just how to shoot a gun. We're really covering everything the cowering civilian weenies are supposed to, so we're doing something of a double duty.


genometype (10:08:32 PM): “They're really getting an education with us, and they in turn are giving us some needed experience at this. We're also getting to know and trust one another, which is more than the diplomats are doing. Really, they can identify with soldiers a lot better than weenies who wilt without air conditioning.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“I don't know, can you? Just kidding, go ahead.”

“How is it that all the news that happens in a day can fit on a twenty-five minute news show?”
genometype (10:08:52 PM): fin
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:10:37 PM): Indeed
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:10:48 PM): Good question, they should ask Johnny about that.
genometype (10:11:01 PM): #:-S
genometype (10:11:23 PM): They carried the heaviest and most complex bomb known to man, a bomb of horrifying power. Does anyone outside of the scientific community know just what ten terawatts is? That’s ten to the thirteenth power watts, sickening amount of electricity, enough to heat a packet of deuterium (heavy water) to a really big number in scientific notation, a temperature seen in nature only around quasars (which are probably masses of space dust and gas being pulled into a black hole). All you need to burn water to these temperatures is a collage tabletop laser to concentrate all its output into the briefest moment, say a femtosecond (a time so short, nerve impulses are turtles in comparison), and got a whole lot of steam power lunging against the bomb casing. They worked on this, too.
genometype (10:11:58 PM): Different story.
genometype (10:12:04 PM): :-B
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:12:13 PM): Indeed
genometype (10:12:48 PM): I won't harass you with more.
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:13:26 PM): Wait, was the last one a mistaken post or did I just really miss something?
genometype (10:13:39 PM): Which one?
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:14:26 PM): the one with ten terawatts
genometype (10:14:35 PM): What of it?
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:14:41 PM): Was it supposed to be funny?
genometype (10:15:06 PM): No!=))
genometype (10:15:35 PM): I hope to build that bomb one day.B-)
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:15:43 PM): ...why?
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:15:59 PM): So you can heat up 100 gallons of hot chocolate instantly?
genometype (10:17:22 PM): Dude, bombs are awesome! All the chocolate would evaporate. Naw, it would be more useful for moving objects through space.
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:18:06 PM): Bombs are interesting as a form to relieve sensory deprivation and as a tool. Do you not have enough contact in real life?
genometype (10:18:40 PM): Contact? Contact with what?
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:18:46 PM): Other human beings
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:19:07 PM): non-standard environments... a sufficient supply of mental input
genometype (10:19:29 PM): :-$ Don't tell anyone, but I'm talking to a human right now!=))
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:19:39 PM): No you're not
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:20:00 PM): I'm not a human, I'm a god, remember?
genometype (10:20:07 PM): Right, you’re a nonentity.
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:20:14 PM): Precisely.
genometype (10:20:30 PM): You've never looked for yourself, therefore, you don't exist.
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:21:09 PM): What do you mean by "yourself" and "exist"
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:21:38 PM): The idea of self and other are merely abstract concepts that oversimplify a complex state
genometype (10:22:30 PM): Untrue. A self may be nothing more than some inquiring. It thinks, therefore it is.
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:23:01 PM): Does making no sense give you a boner or something? Descartes was a tool, "I think therefore I am" isn't a proof, it's just a catch-phrase.
genometype (10:23:31 PM): Dropping names gives AVDA an erection.
genometype (10:23:45 PM): Not nonsense.
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:24:04 PM): What is this thing you speak of, "thinking"?
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:24:17 PM): Where, precisely, do you think? Can you point to the specific location where *you* are?
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:24:33 PM): Is there a specific portion of your brain that, if we removed it, would be "you"?
genometype (10:25:02 PM): Socratic junky.
genometype (10:25:11 PM): L-)
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:25:30 PM): Yes, I am employing rhetoric
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:25:48 PM): Since this text box is insufficient to contain a lengthy argument on the essay, I have to use simpler methods
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:25:57 PM): *subject, not essay
genometype (10:26:11 PM): I just kicked my desk, proving my leg exists.
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:26:18 PM): To who?
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:26:28 PM): I didn't just feel your leg get kicked
genometype (10:26:39 PM): Feel that?
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:26:40 PM): Please don't do that, I'm playing music
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:26:55 PM): That came from my computer, not from "you" specifically
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:27:11 PM): There are computer programs I have dealt with that are capable of almost equivalent reactions
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:27:26 PM): Do you have a mic?
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:27:49 PM): Tell me if you start talking
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:27:59 PM): I have to adjust volume, just a sec
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:28:09 PM): alright
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:28:14 PM): I don't have a mic
genometype (10:28:36 PM): I exist!
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:28:39 PM): You're still kinda quiet on my computer, my speakers can't go very high
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:29:03 PM): Are you claiming that merely because you can create sound that you exist?
genometype (10:29:35 PM): You seemed to think trees existed because they made a sound when they fell.
genometype (10:29:45 PM): =D>
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:30:08 PM): There is evidence that trees make a sound even if no one is watching
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:30:16 PM): However, this does not prove they exist
genometype (10:30:41 PM): Take that back!
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:30:57 PM): The human mind shapes and defines reality, because of this everything is subjective to the individual's perceptions.
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:31:07 PM): What exactly do you mean "you exist"? That means nothing.
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:31:41 PM): That there is some matter which you would refer to as yourself? This could be just as easily supplied should I be schizophrenic.
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:31:44 PM): Or dreaming, even.
genometype (10:32:19 PM): I own property. The property-owner is defined by law.
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:32:21 PM): I once dreamed that I was walking in a world of pure white, with no other entity in "existance" other than myself? Because I perceived this, does this mean that world "existed'?
genometype (10:32:43 PM): I've been there.
billy_bo_bob_yep (10:33:07 PM): Salad, brb
genometype (10:33:41 PM): Champloo is on!=P~:x

Published by Typewriter King | 10:47 PM
Comments: Post a Comment
Friday, August 05, 2005

Fanfiction post Forging the finest print

Fanfiction.net is being a pain, so I'll have to post my latest chapter of the Gordian Knot here until I can get in. Note the copyright is owned by Berkley Fiction, Tom Clancy, and Martin Greenburg.

Note: This chapter is dedicated to Steve Vincent.

“Man fears the darkness, and so he scrapes away at the edges of it with fire.”
-- Rei Ayanami (Neon Genesis Evangelion)

“It's a simple formula. The greater the tragedy, the greater the emotional effect.”
-- Legato Bluesummers (Trigun)

“Just as [in physics] the center of gravity is always found where the mass is most concentrated, and just as every blow directed against the body's center of gravity yields the greatest effect, and--moreover--the strongest blow is the one achieved by the center of gravity, the same is true in war. The armed forces of every combatant, whether an individual state or an alliance of states, have a certain unity and thus a certain interdependence or connectivity (Zusammenhang); and just where such interdependence exists, one can apply the center of gravity concept. Accordingly, there exist within these armed forces certain centers of gravity that, by their movement and direction, exert a decisive influence over all other points; and these centers of gravity exist where the forces are most concentrated. However, just as in the world of inanimate bodies where the effect on a center of gravity has its proportions and limits determined by the interdependence of the parts, the same is true in war."
-Carl Von Clausewitz, describing a center of gravity, as translated from German by Antulio J. Echevarria II


Gordian's office, Camp William Eaton.

“When you look at the globe where we live from space, you'll see a thousand points of light. These lights shine with all the bustling energy of the heavens. These lights are the most accurate boundaries of our civilization. Classically, these lights have been equated with safety, even if no obvious forms of security compliment the lighting. I'm in the business of expanding that light, removing the darkness from a region that's been dim for far too long.”

Roger Gordian rested his arms on his massive oak executive table, capturing the lone news camera in his eye.

“The hub from which I've expanded this light is here, at Camp William Eaton. The theories of Max Plank, the Theory of Quantum Physics, tells us that light isn't a ray, but chunks of energy. Indeed, we move chunks of energy, all the vitality of modern life, from this hub right here. This endeavor to connect the Iraqis to the vitality of our wondrous civilization has bulged this facility into the center of gravity of the entire nation. The community that exists here is the harmonious force that binds these people together, and as such, it unifies the light.”

Roger nodded toward his strategist and speech-writer, Vince Scull. Both men studiously studied the motions of the wacky ROMP, the Randomly Oscillating Magnetic Pendulum, swing on one side of the desk.

“Warfare is an open-ended system slaved to the vagaries of the butterfly effect. Daily we see minor perturbations fluidly motioning us into a completely different war. This evolving system has kept the Pentagon from coming to terms with what we're facing here, but by carefully designing the functions of this hub for fortifications, communications, and logistics, we've drawn together a gravitational node for this country's vigor to join together. What this facility is to Southern Iraq is simultaneously what the Alexandria Library was to classical knowledge, what Memphis is to Federal Express, and what Khe Sahn was to the Northern border of South Vietnam.

This is the middle of the table, and if they break it, the legs are immaterial.”

A deep bass flutter shook some lime dust from the ceiling, powdering Roger's nearly alabaster coif. Scully's basset hound bloodshot eyes faintly shifted. His meaty right hand signaled “OK.” A rotary ululate report from what could only be a Vulcan cannon emphasized the immediacy of Gordian's quixotic address.

“You can hear that our counterattack has begun. There has been a truthful maxim put forth in warfare that puts a premium on taking the initiative. The words come from Clausewitz, but I've heard it expressed commonly. From one of the superior cartoons I've watched with my grandkids (1), and even from the current President of the United States, the near universal belief that the best defense is a good offense. While the President has made the phrase his near trademark since endeavoring on this ambitious campaign, it is free for all who put a premium on protecting our culture to cherish and practice. I came here with my eyes on connecting a more broad and perfect center of gravity, a free and vital Iraq. One that can speak for itself, protect itself, and instill the values of a liberated society.

Remember the flickering hopes seen from above. They seem to sparkle on a vast sea of darkness. The enemy may at times seem large enough to stand over the points of light and smother them in a valley of shadow. I assure you the fields of light are aligning together, conquering the night. Sunrise is long overdue in this region, but the soldiers of light are marching the illuminating power of undiluted freedom even on the enemy's core, where shrouds are instituted to obscure our torch, and the unreasonable fear of apostasy muffles our cries for understanding. I came here with my eyes on a high sunny plane where we could all enhance our common values and collaborate on nursing the newborns toward furthering our initial steps.

Seeing all the progress around me, I know I came to Iraq with my eyes fully open.”

Outside

It looked every part the doomsday tank of art show horror, the invincible Israeli armored D9 Caterpillar bulldozer, spewing rotary fire from the massive front plow blade, where the marine had managed chaining the remaining Phalanx cannon. It sputtered led and flame. The gearbox whirled, teeth grinding down on grit, willing the drive train, heaving forward the treads. Scarved heads planted themselves under shallow trenches, sometimes not deep enough.

The bull dozer blitzed. Ricci, the ex-SEAL, fought against the sand grains given flight by a nascent gust, and chased the beast's wake storm. His waist turned to inspect his troops. Yes, hunched silhouettes were rolling out carts of cleaned sentry guns! Others hauled smaller ROBOrifles over one shoulder, and unburdened light SWORD infantry filed behind Ricci. Most ran with “variable velocity” versions of the M16A2.

Something swooped from above.

“Where'd they come from?”

His elevated eyes missed that crater.

“Sumtafitch!” mechanical and thermal energy burned his hands and knees, his chest pressed against the ground with a breath. A steel splinter pricked his wrist, and two slowing hands pressed on his back.

“Geese season's over, Reach.” The left arm of Pete Nimec, the ex-Ranger, hooked under Ricci's- “Reach's,” armpit, lifting him to both feet.

“That UCAV must be from Noriko's bunch out at Camp... duh, Chennault? Yeah, Claire Chennault. I-” A tank turret barked, scattered sub munitions at entrenched enemy.
“What?”
“I said another must of picked off the enemy!”
“Yeah, I seem to notice!”

In the dozer

He loathed the setup, stringing wires in and out of the cabin, chaining the Phalanx to the Earth-moving blade, and driving toward a massed line of determined infantry, but brother, he'd read of the Battle for Jenin 2002, had managed contact with several IDF members.

They never lost a man in an armored bulldozer.

He opened the throttle and steered toward the nearest turret. It barely looked like a gray circle under his headlights, but it wasn't demolished. Someone's alive. Someone needs a marine real bad.

Behind the dozer


The left arm of the ex-ranger dragged the ex-SEAL from his scrapped knees, urged him ahead.

“C’mon, Evens needs protection!” Nimec watched a troop of red tracers swarm the dozer canopy on both flanks, originating from positions wide of the gat’s sweeping arc. The marine attempted pivoting the tracks, in order to brush them away. In dark silhouette, both men saw the highly Freudian shape of long shafts with bulbous heads shouldered by the desert-uniformed insurgents. RPG-7s.

They bucked off their shoulders, the explosive projectiles copied from the German Panzerfaust design, a design shape feared by Great Patriotic War tanker veterans after the nightmare of the Berlin siege. The design infamous for its deadly use in the Mogadishu ghettoes, and for its employment around Gaza and the Sunni-populated region around Baghdad.

The design exploded prematurely on the shielding grill extending inches outside of the plated armor. Successive hits seemed Xeroxed matches of the first one, except the pivoting progressed. Green tracers emanated from the plow, ephemerally illuminating the sky adjacent to the falling bodies.

Nimec stood tranquil, rapt by the iridescent jade.

“One in ten, son of a gun.”

“What, Pete?”

“The tracers, one in ten. This is our game.” Unthinking, Nimec’s hand raced up his neck, and clutched his dog tags.

Gordian's office, Camp William Eaton.


“The enemy at the gates know what we’re about. One of my associates in this endeavor, a Mister Singe, aptly described them as skinheads. Think about what that label means, think about what the common definition of a skinhead is, and determine they truly are skinheads, a category of thugs our society condemns above all else.
“They attack integration; marital, social, commercial. British and American citizens have encountered the movement, and largely condemned it. The same movement took root in Russia, where the disdainful movement clashes with Turks, Tarters, Chechens, and others for little reason other than that they originate from somewhere other than Russia.

“The current movement we are fighting is ideologically identical. Granted, it is perceived to focus less on racial characteristics, but it still discriminates against those of a differing national origin.

“Let me tell you about the reality of their movement. The reality is that this movement will manhandle a man from his car, jab a gun at the back of his neck, and pull the trigger. This man never harmed anyone in his life, he was just born somewhere different. Maybe he was born in Groton, Connecticut, maybe his crime was reporting about Pakistani business, or maybe his crime was touring the Mediterranean with his wife, or maybe that he was born American, or Jewish. It doesn’t matter! They never victimized anyone, they just came here to do ordinary honest work, or to vacation here, or to retire.

“This is the glory of the jihad, the glory of bombing houses of worship, because they kneel on Saturday instead of Friday, the glory of hacking a scimitar on someone’s neck, because his alms to the poor were Christian, rather than Moslem. This is the same glory as that of a group shoving a teenage boy through a tractor combine, so his body would be mangled to death; all because he whistled at a girl of a different color! You know that incident, you raged against it, now why should your response be more tepid when a whole crowd faces an execution by scorching explosion for providing food from somebody different?”

Vince Scull signaled for a deep breath, for a transition to a more calm, collective, demeanor. The passionate red drained from Roger, replaced by a more placid pallor.

“Our organization’s infrastructure in this region works to lubricate connectivity for both domestic and foreign enterprise. Because we’re building to share with other interests, we’ll drive costs for everything downward, and because everyone in Iraq will be a consumer, we’ll increase everyone’s standard of living. It will be the same as giving everyone a raise.”

A mortar shell shook a breath of dust from the ceiling.

“They aren’t interested in giving anyone a raise, their interests are in creating discontent, so they can slave the hopeless to the gun. Helpless people without outlets for independence are the future slave-warriors of their glorious revolution. Ha! They want a new crop of miserable people in legion to begat another legion of miserable people until they have a miserable army in mass to export misery into lands that don’t appreciate this glory! Well, we surprised the terror-mongers, we’re knocking on their doors, and we’re planning on planting the best we have on their ground. This is their center, and it’s blooming in our favor. The cancer of their misery-exporting business is in remission, and vitality is pouring back in.

“I thank you the viewers for sparing your time to listen in. Stay safe.”

As the set director closed shooting, Roger accepted a warm coffee cup with the UpLink logo emblazed on the side facing the camera. Scull schlepped over with a large mug housed in both his meaty hands.

“Thank you,” said Gordian graciously, “ I tried.”

Nod.

“You gave them the message about the best we can do,” Vince said, turning for his own coffee, “it made a difference.”

“I suppose,” Gordian replied wistfully, idly dipping a croissant over the brim, “I’ve brought a lot of people here in my folly, if it’s a folly.”

“Right, if it’s a folly. It isn’t, and it isn’t yours, we’ve all taken ownership of a future worth creating.”


The Village Guesthouse, south of William Eaton

One crusty old Arab sheik lounged smoking at the dinner table in a darkness illuminated by the arcing flares of a surrounding enemy. They might get him this time, insh Allah, but they haven’t gotten him in the past seventy years of his life, so he felt content. If they got him now, it still meant he’d outlived many past devils. Seventy years is a full life for a Marsh Arab. Considering his tobacco habit, seventy wouldn’t be bad for him had he lived with these gentlemen.

The one with the peg leg, he paced around a lot, supervising the defense, while the mountain man, Singe, politely corrected Marsh Arab mismanagement of the mortar on their converted tank. The chopper guys, they didn’t seem combat types. Molina set things right.

For the moment, he’d retreated back in for more chatter with the outside. Though in charge, the radioman he still was. He spoke in English, but in radio English. The sheik could follow that.

Private First Class Manning, the gunner from Madison, Wisconsin, had the FN M240D unbolted from the chopper, firing prone from the roof. The roof trembled when Manning burst, but not much. Blockhouses don’t shake much, and fortunately, can safely absorb a Draganov round.

What didn’t shake was Molina. Positive feedback came in from the base. Evens had shouldered a counter-offensive, and had disposed of a mole. Oh. Grimly, the sheik nodded. He’d known, but had never confronted it. Forgiveness awaits him, insh Allah. Hopefully, it awaits us all. Molina chattered on the wireless. Drones from Chennault pounded the assault, and a gunship from Cairo circled overhead. Though vulnerable, the DC-6 made an excellent gunning platform.

“Say again, Eaton?” Molina’s demeanor shifted.

Camp William Eaton

“I said be advised, a platoon or larger sized force of hostile technical are barring on you from the Southwest. Cat’s Eye is reporting an indeterminate amount of Fahd 300- er, Egyptian APCs, armored jeeps, and Somali-style technicals. That means big guns-”

“What the heck type of radio discipline is this?” Molina demanded. “To whom am I speaking?”

The Louisiana man shifted in his seat.

“Its Rollie. Look, you have beucoup armor humping the desert your way. The JSTARS orbiting doesn’t know how the Saudis let such a large armored force skirt by, but Cat’s Eye don’t got hope of anything slowing them more than their estimated quarter hour ETA. All the high tech needs go-go juice after lighting the fires after chasing some fast-movers from Mullah Land. Their reporting a FUBARed Green Zone from the mess, so the brass is off the loop. We’re managing what we can.”

Molina mulled over a reply.

“I hear you, Will Eaton, good luck on your counter-offensive. We can hold out in house-to-house fighting a few hours. Thanks for the heads-up.”

Rollie shifted uncomfortably.

“Acknowledged. We’re still facing a hostile logistics train dropping jeep-loads of infantry against us, but I’ll reserve some arty time for you. Just feed me the coordinates .”

Rollie attempted to imagine watching for muzzle flashes from a window, glancing down at a GPS, aiming a laser range-finder, and estimating a locations. In a minute, he had fed directions to the Cajun.

“I want anti-personnel rounds proximity-fused and coordinated for TOT, then fired for effect-”

“Most people wait for the results first.”

“Not me. I want your boys to creep it in, and keep loading until their barrels turn white. I want general propose rounds to fall danger close immediately following.”

Rollie fed it to his Blackberry PDA, repeated the highly-complex order, and heard it confirmed by Molina. He then switched channels to the artillery battery, and relayed the instructions in chunks he believed they could process.

“Anti-personnel rounds timed for TOT, yes sir. Battery loaded, elevated… fire!”

The guns, buried in a steel destroyer turret, survived the shellacking dealt out by the enemy, to retaliate in anger. They did. The ex-navy personnel in the turret easily adapted to the corporate culture of UpLink’s Sword service, despite Peter Nimec’s instilling the team with a more Army Ranger culture. Sometimes they still slip into calling the choppers “helos,” the walls “bulkheads,” the toilet a “head,” and said “aye” to the annoyance of the team leader, but they ran a ship-shape gunning platform, earning their pay grade while conducting the chores ordered by Robin Molina. Rollie need-not have worried about them misinterpreting orders. They followed spot on.

They ejected the spent casing from the breech, loaded again, shut the breech, pulled the lanyard, boom. Decrease the angle, ejected the casing, load the shell, shut the breech, lanyard pull, fire, repeat for effect.
They walked it further, then switched ammunition types. The general purpose ammo storage door momentarily protested from opening, but a good WHACK! From the palm of Rusty Singleton, a South Dakota native and retired Master Chief from an Arleigh Burke-class destroyer, eased out the obstruction.

The drill finished in three minutes. A battery of four guns averaged roughly nine shells a minute for those solid three, circumscribing the northern border of their friendly town with 114 rounds, almost certainly breaking the lightly dug-in insurgent infantry.

“Cat’s Eye, the JSTARS thingy in the sky, is trying to give us a bomb damage assessment,” radioed, Rollie Thibodeau, “mon Deu, They use radar, you know, and could be more, uh, definitive, with a thermal scan, but they don’t see an image of a human body outside the parameter. Great work.”

Outside the Compound

Iranian/Russian high-tech evidently never thwarted American high-tech, making Commander Farouz was extremely nervous. His T-55 probably never broke 55 kilometers an hour in this desert sand, and those unmanned Yankee birds probably carried ten death-arrows apiece, meaning those two circling had twenty opportunities to kill his armor.

He’d thought those Gophers, the SA-13s their mysterious benefactor had bestowed upon them, would provide enough umbrella to spare him from onslaught, but the American Sheik’s high-tech came in a larger quantity then they’d thought, and the spare Gophers could only escort them so far before risking the fire of NAVAL artillery !

Worse, the radio told him the sappers and shock troops had failed to remove some of the T-72 tank turrets arming the base parameter. The news that the G-5 guns had failed to even dislodge the beached naval guns left him dumbstruck completely. What exactly did they shoot? For once breaking with his tradition of being the good soldier, Farouz, a proud veteran of the Revolutionary Guard, asked for an explanation.
The reply had been more than curt.

“The dipsticks in intelligence and the artillerists underestimated the enemy’s Shortstop trance on our proximity fuses. They had to saturate soft targets so long, they didn’t get to the hard ones.”

He’d been thankful for the candor, it had bolstered his faith in the leadership, but he felt apprehensive about his chances of surviving the mission. He’d fought the Iran-Iraq war, respected his counterparts in the Republican Guard, and had seen them decimated in two wars and countless air strike operations in between. After visiting Kosovo and Yugoslavia in 1999, he’d personally seen what this high tech stuff could do. Without the support with armor on the ground, the Americans and NATO scared the Shiite out of the conflict region. The big stealth bomber had shown up for that war, as did some larger numbered GBUs.
The JDAM and JSOW weapons made him tremble, because weather couldn’t disrupt them. American and British armor scared him more. How to hide from it? Melt into the city?

Western news agencies and clerics in their towers will say what they want, but Farouz saw little hope of living past this mission.

He swiveled his co-axle chain-gun toward a flash in the sky. He caught a glance of illuminated smoke corkscrewing, saw the flame jet out, and saw the dive-bombing outline of the man-less destroyer.

Dung it! The bucking of the recoil pulled his crosshairs off the shape! Breath, it is climbing slowly, heading away, banking sharply. The nose suddenly tilted directly at him. Farouz triggered a long stream, but the UCAV’s maneuver had been a feint. The tanker didn’t know aeronautics, but whatever he saw seemed impossible. Big mistake; it flew parallel to him, showing a fat, juicy profile. The dot in the middle of his crosshairs eclipsed the bird, he fired. Not good! The tracers trailed behind it!

I get it, I have to aim ahead. He did aim at the future location of the aircraft, but initially overestimated its airspeed. He then overcorrected. He mentally triangulated with his imagination.

Kabam!

Flight, weightlessness, his heart and stomach leapt into his throat, then rushed back to normal, as flight turned ballistic. Farouz felt gravel merge with his cheek. It pained, it burned, it embedded in his face. The effects of a skeletal concussion bled in, and he understood. The high-tech had punched a hole into his universe. He dared not get up. He dared not glimpse at his tank, at the remains of the three youngsters under his care. He dared only focus on the salt and acid spicing the granules in his mouth, and only on that until the darkness seeped into his world.

Peel’s observation post

Terrance Arthur Peel’s binocular-enhanced vision gave instant feedback to the reality of the situation. Some yahoo cowboy had led a armored column out by example, using his unhealthy machismo to spit on Peel’s attack plan. The rogue had a bulldozer, one of those D9s those Jewish chaps used, running to and fro with a gatling chained to the blade, running over fields of men like a big mechanical reaper. He’d brought friends.

A small armored Bobcat backhoe chased behind it. A man in a cowboy hat piloted it. He looked familiar. Yes, he was a South African TAP new from the 90s. He looked thrilled, taking on the old-time airs of a cavalry officer. A cavalier, that’s what he was! Well, he’d messed up everything. Following him were the big APCs.

Peel’s aide had to rouse the 106mm recoilless riflemen and Sagger missile men from their cowering. The light brown heel of his combat boots had to contact some rumps harshly, and still some wouldn’t rise.

“We’ll have to fire and maneuver,” shouted the British leader, grabbing his aide’s bicep, “I want these guys firing, while I lead some guys down this trench,” said he, pointing toward one that led to the base’s edge and to the flank of the armored column. A smoking wreck of an armored tiller, dismantled by a stationary T-72 turret, concluded the trench’s progression.

“This has been some bloody Hell and a fist of aspirin.”

The bulldozer

The marine surveyed the biological litter his actions had created, looking around the prone six-patterned desert fatigues for stragglers or infiltrating sappers. He stretched his senses, feeling out for shapes and movements that didn’t belong. He’d lost a headlight in his rampage, but otherwise had a fully functional tracked mount. The immediate presence of the enemy faded, but rocket mortars arced overhead.

Evens bent forward, where he kept the computer controlling the gatling. He punched open the CD tray, fed in the original anti-mortar program, and watched the old operation gush to life, aided in the inundation by a reservoir built into the temporary space of the RAM and virtual RAM.

Steel beamed skyward, igniting rocket fuel. Many splashes of fuel came ablaze, brightening the night. Paul exploited the illumination, craning his neck so his eyes could find mischief.

They did. Stooped figures darted down a trench. Bundles of RPG-7 rounds burdened their backs. Evens had a gun port ready. He grabbed the M24 jutting from it, and let a rocket grenade bundle have it.

In the trench

A trillion nerves overloaded with heat and shock, screaming the announcement that the organism faced mortal end. The sensation drowned out all other news until Peel tasted the rouge gushing from the divide in his lower lip. Peel, numb, reluctantly, flopped from his stomach to his back, and visually established a record of what happened. They’d been hoisted on their own petard, and now Tap felt thoroughly moist. He knew just how much water sprouted from the de-compiled human at ground zero, some ninety percent of his makeup was water. Water, tinged garnet, matted the trench. Water and bone shivers.

The other bodies looked solid. Peel refrained from checking for pulses, opting instead to get that Yank.

The dirt he clawed. He clawed to a sitting position. He rested the bipod of his weapon, watched the bulldozer tracks turn, and squeezed the trigger. He inhaled smoke, foul acerbic smoke, before collapsing in his refuge.

In the bulldozer

He felt it. While the gatling’s software reverted back into operations against the infantry, Paul Evens felt the thud, and couldn’t see the damage.

“Nigel, care to take a peek under my skirt?”

The Afrikanner growled seductively.

“I’ve never turned down the offer before, ‘cept from one odd Scotsman,” he laughed. Evens stopped, waited for the backhoe to overtake him. Finally, he idled to the bulldozer’s port.

“Hmm, he nipped you a little bit. I believe he merely snipped apart your wire cage, chap.”

Good news pursued good news. The gatling once again trawled over the battlespace, rendering a clean surface free of hostiles. The marine quickly keyed in the mortar-intercept mode, and advised Pete Nimec that the guys in the APCs should dismount to clean the trenches.

Footnote

1. The cartoon Roger Gordian watched with his grandkids was Mobile Suit Gundam Wing.

Published by Typewriter King | 5:09 PM
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