A few minutes ago, I started to write a post about what bullshit it was that my car had just been towed away.

See, I’m duly authorized to park in my parking spot. For one, I live in the apartment building that I share with my office. Second, I work at my office. Thus, of all the cars to tow, mine should be the last one you would expect, right?

OK, so about 10 minutes ago, I walk to the window to smoke, and notice to my horror that my car is being towed away. I’ve seen it happen before, and know it’s pointless to scream obscenities at the truck driver.

So I resign myself to going tomorrow, and explaining how the two stickers on my windshield mean that one should NEVER EVER tow away my car.

I begin to write down this bullshit story for your benefit….

And as I’m writing, they come and tow my car right back into it’s spot. Only instead of being front wheels into the spot, they leave it front wheels pointing out.

I assume they did this because they realized what a fucking mistake they had just made, but shouldn’t they have perhaps looked for a parking pass first? It’s a little ridiculous don’t you think? I’m glad it’s back and all, but isn’t that what I stick the two parking passes in my windshield for in the first place? To prevent it from being towed?

Anyway - DMTri, your car could be towed away any day now.

Check out this retarded piece of shit article.

Can the author even be serious? Witness the insanity:

It’s hard to argue with a half billion incentives. But — aside from cash — it’s hard to see what satellite could do for Stern that podcasting couldn’t do better. If his primary motivation for ditching traditional radio wasn’t money but escape from the FCC’s censors, as I believe it was, the Internet would have been a better choice, hands down.

How about, letting him have an audience besides nerdy tech people? People primarily listen to Stern in their car where satellite radio works well, and is also far cheaper than any form of I-Pod or Mp3 player.

And that’s beside the point, because anyone who listens to Stern, knows that he was leaving because he was fed up with radio all together, and was going to retire because it wasn’t fun for him anymore. Then Sirius made an offer to him, told him he wouldn’t be censored at all, and he thought about it and decided that might make it fun again, so he did it. (And boy has it made his show fun again!) Sure he also got a lot of money, but the money was hardly necessary or motivating considering he could have lived out his life filthy rich even if he had just quit when his contract with Infinity expired.

Dumbass Tech Writer continues:

Podcasting’s reach now dwarfs traditional terrestrial radio, which in turn towers over satellite. Next to podcasting, even Infinity, the national network that formerly carried Stern’s show, looks like my old college radio station (before it added a podcast, that is).

Read that again: “Podcasting’s reach now dwarfs traditional terrestrial radio”. Asphinctersayswhat? How is that new batch of crack going, dude? I really think this is a case of a tech writer getting so caught up in his own hype that, well, he says a bunch of really stupid things. Let’s see here, in the world do you suppose there are more people with radios than computers? Yes. Are there certainly more people that listen to radios than have the high speed Internet connections required for podcasting? Yes. My point is made.

To be fair, Stern claims Sirius is trying to offer an online stream of his show, but even then, there’ll be no way to subscribe to it in a downloadable format. The promised stream will be delivered via a Sirius receiver, so it won’t be available in a readily consumable form.

Except by, oh, say, listening to it. Or hey, since it’s already plugged into your stereo, or in my case, my computer…you can use this simple piece of software called a “sound recorder” and store it forever. Except, it is LIVE the first time you listen to it, and you can call in and interact with the show. Such things frequently happen on Howards show, where he will be talking about someone, and they will hear it and call in. That doesn’t quite work with podcasting.

He goes on to talk about how it’s too bad that podcasters aren’t live, and that that is indeed a disadvantage compared to either terrestrial or satellite radio. A big one in fact. One that makes it absolutely not similar in any way.

Podcast producers could let listeners enter a lottery (perhaps by text message); the first thousand winners would get to hear the show in real time for five minutes, live, over their cell phones, with the potential to be chosen to have their call be patched onto the “air.”

Because that doesn’t totally sound like it would suck or anything. Wow, I won the lottery and I get 5 minutes of live talk show, on my cell phone…and I might even get to say something. Yeah…that’s pretty much just like listening to a live talk show.

As for getting the show to users without computers, Stern could have set the wheels in motion to distribute his show via Wi-Fi hotspots to simple, inexpensive MP3 players (possibly even privately labeled as a Howard Stern Cube or something of the sort). It’s not a perfect solution, but neither is making people pay $100 plus $10 per month to listen to a show that was free a few weeks ago.

Not a perfect solution at all. In fact, in my business we would call that a horrendously cludgey, bound to fail, non-solution. Furthermore, the show that used to be free and shared the same name, was a different show. Not to mention Sirius has good enough programming to make it worth the price even without Howard. And not all the sirius units cost $100, as it even says else where on the page…there are cheaper ones available all over the place…making the author seem a bit disingenuous.

I could go on to point out all the stupid things about this article, but I won’t bother. Just read it for yourself. There is at least one stupid, if not downright insane statement in pretty much every paragraph.

I’ve said it before, but I hate the term podcasting. Podcasting for one, does not require an I-Pod. I liked it better when it was called Audio Blogging. Because that is indeed what it is. Put an MP3 on your blog, and people syndicate it with RSS. Big fucking deal. It is not a breakthrough. There is no reason to get all excited about it. And there is definitely no reason to claim that it now “has a bigger reach” than radio. The only bigger reach podcasting has is the one up the authors ass, where he pulls these crazy thoughts from before writing them down in Wired.

As a comment on the articles page reads, “take the white buds out of your ears and join the real world for a while.”

Some mornings it seems everyone at my office conspires to piss me off. Sure, it’s probably the chip I perpetually wear on my shoulder around the office that leads them to act bitchy to me, but it only makes the chip worse. In fact, the whole chip comes from them in the first place. Since I can do my job quite easily without their help, yet they can’t do theirs without mine, it poses a problem for them more than it does for me. This is especially true if it’s before 9:00am, when the FNG gets into the office. Also, before 9:00am, I have most likely not had a cigarette, nor finished a cup of coffee, leaving me grumpy, tired, and likely slightly hung over.

Most people recognize this, and behave accordingly. Some people though, are new, and haven’t had time to learn how to deal with the IT department, so they make inevitable mistakes that ruin my whole day.

Today, a new person, instead of letting me get to my desk so as to set down my thermos, take off my coat and get stuff together decided instead of scream my name several times all the way across the third floor, as I was walking with my hands full to my office. I was already at the door to my office and so I just pretended not to hear the person, and instead just beeped in and went to my desk.

This kind of thing happens ALL the time. Less to me than it used to, but that’s only because I no longer do much actual person to person support. Most of my work comes over the phone, and has to do with more than simply helping someone sign on when they forget their password. That job, thankfully, is now relegated to our Friendly New Guy. Although, as I mentioned before, he comes in at 9:00, and I come in at 8:00, so sadly there is a time each morning, right when it’s likely to bother me the most, that I have to deal with the noobs and users.

As soon as I sat down, the person called, like they should have done in the first place.

“Good morning, Cid.” I said. Note how I said both “Good Morning”, and then I identified myself. That’s as close to foreshadowing as I get.

“What’s with the attitude?” replied the noob.

“Nothing. I just wanted you to call, as I wasn’t going to walk over all the way over to your desk with my briefcase, my coat on, and my coffee cup and thermos in my hands, just to help you with something I could help you with over the phone. Patience is a virtue you know.”

This particular noob knew better than to test me. So she just apologized and went on to explain that as usual, the computer “won’t take” their password. Not because it’s not being typed in correctly, but rather that the computer “won’t take it”.

I dealt with it quickly. And went back to sipping my coffee and listening to Howard Stern. A few minutes later, a much more irritating noob called.

“Hello, cid?”

“Yes it is. Good morning.”

“I need you to make a CD with some files on it just like you did for me yesterday, but this one has to be done before 10 so we can send it to the client.”

“Who am I speaking to?”

“X”

“Who? Where do you sit? I don’t think we’ve ever spoken before, and I don’t know what you’re talking about because I certainly didn’t burn a CD for you yesterday.”

I said it in as friendly voice as I could, but I was irritated and they could probably hear it, as they then hung up on me. They then proceeded to call the other phone in my office, and complain to our FNG about me having an attitude. And that she would “have me know” that she doesn’t put up with that. Our FNG still didn’t know who he was talking to, or what he was talking about, because she didn’t identify herself to him either. Well, actually, she will put up with it. Because she needs help from me, and I don’t need help from her. Primarily, I program all day long. She uses those programs. Also, I didn’t say anything particularly rude to her for her to object to. I mean, go ahead and report it to my FNG, or even to my supervisor. Because what I said is the truth, she didn’t give her name, I didn’t know who she was, and I didn’t burn a CD for her yesterday…so blah.

I do have an attitude I guess, but it’s typically a fairly laid back one. And I don’t really get irritated unless people are inconsiderate or rude. And frankly, it’s rude to scream my name across the floor when I’m clearly not working yet, as is obvious by my coat being on, my briefcase, coffee cup and thermos in hand walking to my desk. It’s also rude to call me, fail to identify yourself, and start making demands when you clearly don’t even know who I am, or you would have known that it wasn’t me that burned a CD for you yesterday. I still don’t know who burned a CD for that person yesterday, but it wasn’t me. Maybe when she see’s this other “cid” that helped her yesterday, they will help her again.

Anyway…I’m done bitching for now. It’s boring to read, and not really going to accomplish anything. But it’s my blog, so I can post what I want and I just wanted to vent…because it’s just now 9:30am, and my day is already pissing me off. Howard is definately on a roll this morning though, they have a new Jagermeister machine in the studio, so it’s not all bad.

Just to make this post somewhat entertaining, I’ll direct you to this. It’s funny if you’re a “computer person”, but probably less funny if you’re a user and/or a noob.

It was a shallow ocean
It was a very blue sky
They’re not too wide to get around
given the old school try
and you must have had
nothing better to do
I’ve been kissing my cigarette
wishing it was you

True, you gave me the moon
and the silver stars
They float outside the window
of this tedious bar
but just like their master
they just drift in the blue
I’ve been kissing the bottle
wishing it was you

So Gibraltar has tumbled
The world came to an end
and the joke was on me,
you’re not even my friend
but with all my new lovers
and there’ve been twenty-two
I’ve been kissing the mirror
wishing it was you

– Stephin Merritt

I know…two lyric posts in a row is a cop out.

I’m working on it.

Before I let you down again
I just want to see you in your eyes
I wouldn’t have taken everything out on you
I only thought you could understand

They say every man goes blind in his heart
And they say everybody steals somebody’s heart away
And I got nothing more to say about it
Nothing more than you would me

Send me your flowers, of your december
Save me your dreams, of your candy wine
I’ve got just one thing I can’t give you
Just one more thing of mine

They say every man goes blind in his heart
They say everybody steals somebody’s heart away
And I’ve been wondering why you let me down
And I’ve been taking it all for granted

–Mazzy Star

Friday, I think, and my suite in the Hotel Shangri-la is perfectly tidy, empty and clean. There appears on TV the picture of a Belgian murderer and it’s the face of a normal man. Men kill women because they can’t bear the real women who live inside the bodies of the women they desire. The Belgian murderer has been put into one of those re-education camps into which many men, actual or potential murderers, are put these days. Men brought up on the old pornography or on the old religions, who go into camps in order to get out the murderer from inside them. Men who murder women. That’s what they’ve got written on their t-shirts. Despite the fact that the results vary from case to case, the re-education camps have shown their effectiveness. There are lots of men who kill women. The papers call it the new virus. International feminism calls it the old enemy.

Next to the bed there’s a bottle of champagne inside and electric ice bucket. Cold champagne in the morning and the noise of Penang traffic coming through the open terrace door and the sound of the sea coming through the same door.

Of course I’ve dreamt about a woman inside a closed car and, of course, all the pain of that dream disappears at once after a tiny quantity of my own chemical.

In the shower I’m visited by one of my old shaking fits. My head bangs against the glass partition after a momentary disconnection. Fortunately I don’t fall down and straightaway regain control and feel my neuronal activity recovering like the lights on a Christmas tree after flickering.

I repeat aloud: Tomorrow wi’lll be annoother day, only to realise that I’ve still got small problems with my speech. I say it six or seven times until I achieve a normal, non-altered vocalization.

Tomorrow will be another day.

I stay under the hot water until I get over the fright and then I get out of the shower. I look for a bottle of mylo-depressants, I take only one of them and lie down on my bed with my eyes closed until the tension produced by the partial epileptic episode disappears.

My head is once again incapable of bearing all the chemicals that my heart needs.

The preceding was an excerpt from a highly entertaining book I’ve just finished, “Tokyo Doesn’t Love Us Anymore” by Ray Loriga.

Our “hero” if you call him such is nameless, and travels the world selling what is only referred to as “chemical” for what is only referred to as “The Company”. Chemical, in both it’s short and long term varieties, erases memory. Whatever your reasons for wanting to forget whatever subject matter you choose, our man is the man to talk to. One man wishes to forget the pain of his mother dying, and we find out that his mother still lives on in the form of a holographic AI, who he is tormented by. Numerous other decadent examples of technology gone out of control await. Child prostitutes are frequently given chemical in order for them ‘to preserve the sexual innocence required by refined European sexual tourists.’ Murderers desire the chemical, in order for them to maintain their family life and not be overwhelmed by the guilt of their weekend activities.

Unfortunately, our hero has his own issues that he wishes to forget, namely “you”, the person the entire text is directed to. Something happened with “you” in his past, and he is determined not to face it. To that end, he begins dabbling with the chemical he is selling, with “your” mother haunting him everywhere….and ends up being suspended from The Company due to abuse of the very same product he is tasked to sell.

He then travels, selling and/or abusing what remains of the chemical he was carrying, through a dystopian future consisting of a random assortment of hotel rooms, sex escapades, and drug binges while burning whatever remaining memories he has, winding up as you would exptect, in a psychiatric ward. One with considerably more sinister implications than simply “helping” him to recover his sanity.

It gets far more complicated, namely because our hero is also the narrator, and suffers from increasingly grave memory loss. But in the end, it winds up being an absolutely fantastic, if a bit confusing, novel.

I highly recommend it. The prose is like poetry, either because of or in spite of it being translated from Spanish, I’m not quite sure. While the first half of the book is so confusing as to be trying at times, the second half launches the reader into a fury of page turning ecstasy. Think of William Gibson by way of William Burroughs.

I was just watching the beginning of The Island. I haven’t watched it far enough to know if it’s good or not, but something struck me and forced me to jump up from my smoky daze and post something.

Why is it that companies pay for product placement in movies about dystopian futures? In The Island, everyone lives in these uber-sterile constructions, monitored down so far as even their urine ever time they urinate, and generally can’t show any emotion without a visit from the “police”. However, during their relaxing swims, they wear Speedos. When they need a drink of water, they drink Aquafina.

I just don’t understand that kind of product placement. Are they meaning to imply that their products are so good they will still be there when everything else has gone to absolute shit? That somehow, they will survive when the government even controls your emotions, because you will have no choice but to drink Aquafina? Doesn’t that give a bad impression to their brand name?

In the first 15 minutes of this movie, I’ve discovered the future is divided into at least 4 groups. The people at large, the “man”, Aquafina, and last but not least, Speedo. It just seems like maybe someone needs to review the plots before they pay for the product placement…because I’m never gonna look at a bottle of Aquafina the same again.

Update: So I started the movie again when I finished this post. The very next scene, we learn that the government gets to control what you eat for breakfast. So I assume they get to control what you drink to…like water. Aquafina, the official H20 of the dystopian future. Something makes me think that’s not what they were aiming for when they bought this placement.

So the film continues…and you find that instead of real life boxing, they have a sort of crazy virtual reality boxing, that is run on, the X-Box? WTF? This movie, while interesting so far, seems like a protest movie against the global domination of corporations and how bad that could be, while at the same time corporations have paid huge amounts of money to make sure their products get mentioned instead of competitors. It’s really weird. Scary kinda….actually forget kinda…it’s real scary.

I just decided to come over to my apartment for a my 2:00pm break from work.

Walking up to the front door, I noticed 2 rather (pardon my inherent racism) “gangster” looking black dudes sitting in a running car in the parking lot.

I walk through the exterior door into the foyer where I notice a typed out note stuck to the locked interior door.

What does the note say, you may ask?

“To Apartment 10-D : You have stolen 10 thousand dollars of drug money. Return it immediately or you will be killed.”

No, I’m not kidding. How awesome is that?

I must say, the author has better grammar than our building manager who never posts a memo on the apartment doors without at least one glaring mistake.

Update: So when I was done with break, I decided to go out the back door. A copy of the same sign is posted on the back door.