Tuesday, December 22, 2009
I think it only fitting to start recording the audio for this tonight.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
It's basically an easy way for me to intro the world, get some geography in your head and outline the sense that things work very different on the world of Mirabilis. I would also note that writing with a semi-scriptural style is incredibly laborious and mind numbingly tedious.
Like listening to music through a brick wall. Such is life I suppose, kudos to the crazy old goatherds who wrote the bible though. Must have been quite a chore.
Heigh ho, let us begin!
Book I: The Fall of Deas
In the darkness before time and life there was only Deas. From niether egg nor womb did Deas come. He simply was and always had been. Alone in the void he gave birth to Order. Through Order Deas created time to mark his passing and drew a circle in the void which he could fill. To the vast boundaries of reality he pointed his finger and commanded "This far, and for this long."
Order grew weary in the darkness and pleaded with Deas to create light to guide them. Though Deas thrived in the Darkness he created angels and appointed to each a glowing star in the ether. Numbered beyond reckoning the shining stars filled all of creation with pure and unwavering light. Thus was the power of Deas lessened.
He created the world and the seas also.
Upon the world Deas placed all manner of creature. Mena he placed highest for they shared his love of the stars and disdain for chaos. To each Mena he gave no star but a soul to thrive and hunger for life, truth and all that is good. As the Mena multiplied so to did the number and power of their souls.
Thus was the power of Deas regained.
Deas loved the Mena and bestowed riches upon them. All the stars dwindled and flickered as Deas tended to the Mena and neglected his angels. Every Mena had food, drink, cloth and shelter. Life was long and good for many lifetimes. As Mena became strong and happy the stars grew so dim that Deas had to spend half the day tending to his angels. Thus night came to the world.
When day kissed the face of the world mena hungered for light and goodness, as was their wont. Darkness proved too great a temptation for the mena to resist. Wickedness ruled the mena as soon as Deas turned his back to them. Thus did Deas soon weary of his favored creation.
It was then that an angel called Legion beseeched Order to save and protect the mena from their angry father. However, Order was a slave to his master's will and could not. Thus did Legion intercede to save the mena from destruction.
Mirabilis was the greatest and purest star that shone, brighter than the star of Legion. When Mirabilis learned that Deas intended to destroy the Mena she wept until water covered much of her face. To Legion she gave her light and offered herself as sanctuary to any mena that could be saved.
Seeing her noble sacrifice, Cala gave her light to Legion as did her sisters Bria and Streya. Legion outshined all darkness. And though the lights of Mirabilis, Cala, Bria and Streya were extinguished Legion reflected upon their diminished faces with gratitude.
"For we are many," he proclaimed. Thus was Deas made wrathful. All mena suffered terribly for an age.
Though celestial lights shine eternal the mena lived and died beneath them. Faced with this end the mena turned their love away from the stars and towards their children. However bleak and fragile the world became it was children who shouldered the burden of Hope.
Deas sought to undo that hope and poured his vengeance upon the world.
Knowing his place above the mena Legion appointed a champion to counter Deas in his jealous rage. Thus did Ander Perenti arise in his twenty-fifth year. And though the lights of heaven shook and shattered in the battle Legion overcame Deas and Ander rescued what mena Legion deemed worthy.
They left the world and came to Mirabilis in a mighty ship of silver, through the waves of darkness riding the winds of light. Legion, in his great struggle to destroy Deas, had grown weary. At the sight of Ander waving from his silver ship Legion felt renewed and cast the ruined body of Deas onto the face of Mirabilis. In shadow and sickness Deas cast off his body and hid himself in the night.
Having lived for so long in the light Deas plotted his revenge, sowing chaos and fire throughout the night. Mena could not comprehend the terrors of poverty and illness that Deas wrought. Again, Ander was called to fight.
Enough light and life had been granted for Ander to rule the mena in peace for as long as the stars could shine. In the darkness he lead his people against the evils of Deas. For one hundred and fifty years Ander ruled and strengthened the mena. He stood as a shield between the mena and the evils found in the darkness.
Despite the unwavering light of Legion and the uncanny strength of their king there remained one fear that has ever haunted the mena. Using the fear of death Deas poisoned Ander's followers and advisors against their king and their god, who is Legion. Since Deas could not incite the mena to challenge the light of day they instead rebelled against their noble king.
Ander fled his kingdom though the borders of Perentia stretched across the entire mainland. His shame and sorrow covered a much vaster territory, wider than all of Mirabilis and deeper than any sea.
So great was Legion's wrath that he fell upon the night and tore his father off the face of Mirabilis. Great mountains stand now where Deas clung to the world. Into the darkness Deas fled to sow his discord among the heavens.
In scorn Legion pursued Deas, slaughtering any angel who dared give refuge to their traitorous creator. All the while the mena were left alone in the permanent night. Crops and animals fell to death and madness. Nine of every ten of all the mena on Mirabilis perished in the struggle for what little food remained.
Upon the face of the void Legion captured and destroyed his father, scattering his ruin across the heavens in great globs and smears. None could challenge the might or goodness of Legion, and none ever will.
Upon his return Legion saw the desolation and chaos that had come to his realm during his absence. He wept deeply and swelled the seas ever deeper. To calm his grief Legion sought for his favored champion but Ander of Perentia could not be found.
Disaster loomed for all who yet lived and the mena might have perished forever. However, just as Legion always illuminated those who had served him well, he broke himself apart and showered life back onto the face of Mirabilis, last sanctuary of the mena.
Mia rained from the heavens and filled the bellies of all who remained. Though it gave life to the hopes of many all wondered why Legion's voice was silent when they called for Him in song and prayer.
Thus was Legion's voice divided into all that gives life, including his star. This sacrifice, greater than any other star, allowed the mena to survive even though it meant he would remain forever invisible.
The last words heard by the great light were these: "Where is Ander of Perentia that the world might be healed and its peoples united again? I leave you now, my children, as stewards of your own fates in the hope that you will grow and wise enough again to rule yourselves as Ander once ruled you. Though my voice falls silent now your eyes will never greet the day without my light, my love, and my favor.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Peter Watts was beaten and arrested.
Original Article here: http://www.examiner.com/x-13081-Specu...
PW's Blog post about the event: http://www.rifters.com/crawl/?p=932
Link to Donate: http://www.rifters.com/real/shorts.htm
Link to his free stuff: http://www.rifters.com/real/Blindsigh... (my favorite novel)
PW's email address: GiantSquid@rifters.com
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Raid 1 is a way to set up two hard drives of identical size in such a way that everything written to one is also written to the other. It's also called "mirroring" and it's common to run across this setup in servers.
The nice thing about Raid 1 is that you get a layer of redundancy and a little extra read performance because you can pull data off both drives simultaneously. Raid has its place in the world but it IS NOT A BACKUP SCHEME.
Worse, if the raid card dies in a server the array is lost and you're boned x2. Now, onto the sleaze.
The backup 'solution' encountered tonight was the ultimate dick move in the IT world. First the array was split between an internal fixed drive and a hot swap hard drive sitting in the front bay. Nothing wrong with that. However every night the office was removing the hot swap drive, replacing it with an identical drive and letting the raid array rebuild itself. Every night, they were rebuilding the fucking array.
That's like walking around giving yourself an emergency medical procedure every night just to get to sleep. Worse, the point of failure would be exactly the same without an array.
If they had a single hard drive, no array, and the thing died they would have to restore from their backup. This would be a hassle but no huge deal. With the existing setup a failure of the raid card OR the primary drive would require opening the case and doing some surgery to resolve the problem.
What kills me is that whoever cooked this solution up HAD to have some degree of technical expertise to even do it. He should have known better and it's absolutely ridiculous that they didn't just have a simpler solution. In IT simple often means durable and adding complexity always means adding risk or maintenance costs.
My own company did not fare much better during the assessment. We ran HDMI cables for some monitors and had planned to convert the HDMI to DVI but there was only VGA available at the computer so...we lost about 5 hours on the job while my coworked reran VGA through the walls.
We couldn't even use the HDMI to pull the cable through because we had to drill bigger holes and the ceiling was full of dust and crickets, and we're pretty sure the crickets had been eating asbestos and crapping it out all over the place.
Nasty job. I was able to clone the array and knock out about 90% of the software so I consider it mostly successful. We still had to work until 8pm which is fucking retarded.
So it goes.
More nanowrimo stuff to be posted soon.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Sunday, November 1, 2009
That investigation ties into the story but not at first and not until you get to know Cecil a little better.
Enough of that shit, read on, and remember this is only about 80% polished because of the time limit. If the story plays out well enough I'll be going back to spackle and scrape this thing into a real novel.
[pages from a ruined journal]
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Monday, October 5, 2009
Without being to quick to describe the challenge it's basically an attempt to write a 50,000 word (minimum) novel starting Nov. 1st and ending when the month ends.
The catch being you're not supposed to start writing UNTIL Nov. 1 so for now all I have is a few rough notes and the opening line:
"The year is 2012 and the war is not going well."
(Yes I stole that from TheoWarner but he stole it from Ben Franklin so it's public domain.)
The story as I imagine it will play out as a series of recorded logs, journal entries, IM conversations and maybe even tweets. It will essentially be the collections of an unknown or unidentified (yes there's a difference) third party about an individual and his adventures with a certain piece of exotic technology.
It will begin in 2012 and end no more than a few years later and feature all or most of the following.
1) Cornucopia technology
2) Time/Alternate universe travel
3) A strong AI character with limited communication abilities.
4) Gratuitous fantasies involving what I or someone like me would do with a sudden and inordinate amount of access to highly advanced technology.
5) No chase scenes!
6) Kirk Cameron will certainly die
7) FTLC (faster than light communication)
I am envisioning a story that may peter out around 5 thousand words or explode into a whole new and strange territory that will allow me to complete the length requirement. My only worry is that I will either fall miserably short or shoot too far to actually complete the mother fucker.
Only time will tell. Until then I will gather my strength and start outlining but until Nov. 1st I will not stray beyond the opening line. Should be interesting.
Especially since I have no name, title, character development or ending. I should listen to Peter Watts and make sure I have at least an idea of an ending so I don't get bogged down like hell or just meander around and stop at some point.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd! Here's a bonus. It's a picture of mohammed with a penis right on his face.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Regarding video games there is a lot to be said and a lot I will leave unsaid. Suffice to say they have been an integral part of my life for about as long as I can remember. From age 5 when I figured out how to pwn this crappy ascii game on our vintage 1982 64k ram and no hard drive computer, to the three gut wrenching attempts to make it over the first goomba in the original mario brothers, to the epic struggle to beat Street Fighter II with Zangief... They have always been close to my heart and have inspired a number of fantasies and fictions that no doubt linger on in my writing and thinking.
Regarding alcohol I don't do a lot of drinking anymore but when I do a nice warming glass of red wine usually takes the edge off and an ice cold beer is still very much welcome to the tastebuds. But my favorite liquor drink remains "The Naughty Brown Cow" as first decanted by my good friend Tom.
Naughty Brown Cow Recipe:
1 oz Kahlua
1 oz Silver Rum
4 oz Chocolate milk
Shake with ice and to make the milk nice and frothy and then serve on the rocks. It's heavenly. Actually its better than heaven because it's real!
Regarding people who post first I think I am with the majority on this one: death by melon baller is far to kind a fate
Now I know some of you will stumble over here from youtube thinking something along the lines of 'man that guy is a dick' or something but I wanted to share a little about my philosophy of humor (for Krensharpaw) and to explain my point of view.
If you've read Malcolm Gladwell's book "Outliers" you know that it takes about 10,000 hours of practice to really become world class at something like playing an instrument or a sport. The more you do it, the better you get. Easy money.
However for things like writing, and stand up comedy there's probably some distinction. Being a good, or at least an interesting writer demands more than practice. You have to have experience of your own, insight into the world, a unique perspective or a story to tell that is rare among people. Its almost a meta-talent and any number of factors can influence quality beyond putting pen to paper or fingers to keyboard.
And I think humor is very much like that. It's not simple, it's very nuanced and very context specific. Jokes that are topical and awesome in one culture fall flat as hell in others. Like writing I think humor can be influenced by a number of factors and there's always the element of practice for delivery if nothing else.
But when it comes to when it is appropriate to make a joke or who to make a joke about I draw very little distinction. If the opportunity presents itself I feel compelled to make the joke regardless of who will find themselves the butt. Be it a good friend or a respected elder or some prole on the street...humor should be blind to its subjects.
That's how I feel on the matter anyways.
Friday, September 11, 2009
However I am grateful that even my shitty employer based medical insurance covered the visit and the anti-biotics to MURDER AND DESTROY the microbial malcontents for a measley 30 dollars. Thats probably the amount of money I have saved by eating mostly liquid and coffee for the past 72 hours so it all works out well.
If I had gone to the emergency room it would have cost me like 1 grand without insurance and 150 with. Remind me again why universal health care is such a bad idea?
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Even as my head rested on pillow I could literally still feel the jolts and jerks of our days activities. The right spiraling downward motion of Afterburner, the time-stopping lurch of Drop Zone and the bone shattering tumult of The Hurler rocked my vision like phantom waves after a long day at the beach.
It was a good day, full of thrills and excitement. It was a pleasant evening as well full of beers, shuffleboard (of all things,) and the aforementioned video games. Splashing virtual zombies was nice but the most fun for me was the unique joy that comes from getting a headshot on a galloping giraffe during "Big Buck Safari"
And that all made for a fine Saturday, I was pretty well beat up and worn out. My pelvis still feels slightly detached by the wooden roller coasters but the lift in spirits more than counterbalances the physical damage.
And today, a bonus! While tightening that damned errant nut that always makes the back right wheel of the push mower fall off every 1.5 yard mowings or so I got to placate my hero complex. And yes, I have something of a hero complex.
Perhaps I should preface. One of the redeeming virtues of humanity is that altruism comes naturally and often a sense of well being and purpose follows it. To a degree I suppose that's where the HC comes into play.
Without blowing my own horn I have to mention that this stems almost purely from psychology classes and the statistical apathy that also comes very naturally to most people. It's a bit like the woman who was stabbed to death in broad daylight and no one intervened. I hate stories like that and strangely part of me wants that opportunity to be the person who DOES intervene.
Today I got my chance, well, one chance among the many moments that come and go throughout life. I was dragging the mower out onto the driveway when I noticed a boy walking down the street with a large white pipeish looking thing with a pointy end. It looked a bit like a spear made of PVC pipe and just seeing it brought to mind some of the more dumb and violent chapters from my youth.
I watched boy #1 join up with a friend, we'll call him boy #2 down the road. They were shouting at someone further up the road who I would soon learn was boy #3.
What played out was that boys #1 and 2, each much bigger/older than boy #3 proceeded to chase down the smaller boy and use the big white pipe thingy to hose him down with water. Tears and crying shot out of boy #3 and he fled down the road, coming towards me and past the house, while boys #1 and 2 gave chase on foot.
Enter boy #4, armed with a pipe wrench, that's me. As the boys made it just about even with the driveway I stopped their punk asses in their tracks with a little use of what I call "the Dad voice."
It's not quite screaming but it's pretty close to how state troopers sound after finding a severed head or a bag of cocaine in someone's trunk. Long story short, the chase ended not with the merriment of beating the crap out of boy #3 but with two shattered egos limping back home to mommy.
Bless their hearts. I should have made them mow the lawn for me it was hot as fuck today.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Bookmark this page for it will be here, nigh unto the dying of the planet.
As promised here are links for downloading any and all songs 'composed' by me.
All files are hosted in my public dropbox folder. Dropbox is a kick ass little program that allows for free online storage. Default is 2 gigs, or you can pay for 50+ if you're interested.
Use this link to sign up for an additional 250mb of space. https://www.getdropbox.com/referrals/NTk0MTc2Mzk
Saturday, August 1, 2009
The friend is recently seperated so I was told that I could not stay and watch it with them. The friend is also a cute blonde girl who just got out of a marriage. She's cute, single and vulnerable and I am sitting up in my office.
To make it worse the DVD player downstairs was acting up so they watched the movie upstairs, in our bedroom, in our bed. With beers.
So while I am sitting her clacking on my 6 year old keyboard with naught for company my wife is drinking beer in bed with a cute blonde girl.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Normally when I get a youtube PM it's either because someone subscribed and is giving me a shout out or someone is replying to me for posting/flaming something. It's all good.
And now to my repertoire I add: sometimes I get super long, mostly copy pasta PM's from people who are long winded and mostly batshit instead *also semi literate*
No response needed, just wanted to share with my loyal readership of none.
[Original message follows:]
So that's it. Take it home, you dirty atheists. Bible saiz you everything!
Sunday, July 26, 2009
I suspected the cheesiest, whiniest folk would be my best bet so I did a google search for the following phrase "god is love joel osteen" since he's the corniest corn dog of them all.
Results popped, I clicked on videos hoping to find something useful BUT I found something way way better.
Here's a screenie, I did some surgery on the pic because I didn't want this post to be X-rated but check it out yourself.
Be sure to click on the image for the full effect.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Here's Part II of the Pdunn response
Heaven the Game!
Glenn Beck's radio meltdown
And finally Parts I through III of the CSE Pwnage series!
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
In short, use the shit out of them simply add a link back to this blog.
Or, and to be honest I don't really care one way or another, you can also link to my youtube channel.
Here it goes: http://www.youtube.com/user/Keippernicus
Yes, yes it is.
I will comfort thee with my rod and staff. Giggity.
This one is actually something of a wuzzle, the irony is overwhelming.
And yo mama to!
A logo I was playing with for the now defunct Brute Finesse site
One of my first attempts, pretty ugly but so shiny...
You remember this from the Pdunn Pwnage vids right?
Nintendo style, what what!
Now the final logo makes me giggle and I am in the process of turning it into a tshirt/hoodie. I'll throw up a link when I get to a point where it's ready.
The problem over at cafepress.com is that uploaded logos are really finicky when it comes to edges and gradients so its hard to find the right balance of size and clarity. Fingers crossed though, my people.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Here's the latest offerings, I plan to make a post with some stills of the graphics and logos I have made for recent videos. Hope everyone enjoys watching them as much as I have enjoyed making them.
Friday, July 10, 2009
My intent is to use our lovable electronic devices and use them as a foil for human brains to expose the weakness of various nonsensical beliefs and practices.
Superstition, prayer and homeopathy are all planned but the order/timeline in which they are produce is still uncertain. For now, content yourself with the very first of many: ESP!
****Update, the original video got cut off during processing so here's the full 6 minute video in all its glory****
Thursday, July 9, 2009
We marry other species and ethnicities[sic]
I know you don't think anyone on TV could be that dumb, except for...well I take that back its about what we should expect from such a douche.
Enjoy the vid, I am sure you'll love hearing about it later on the cable news networks.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
This should sum it up nicely.
The first two times Jason brought his truck in to his local Toyota dealership for service, he noticed that someone had taken quarters from his change compartment. He complained both times, but was ignored. So the third time he brought his truck in, he placed a video camera on the passenger side. The dealership didn't ignore him this time.
Jason was originally only concerned about the missing quarters, but his camera also captured Hampton Toyota employees sifting through his medication, using racial slurs, and watching porn in Jason's truck. Jason emailed us a copy of the letter he sent the owner of Hampton Toyota.
What's crazy about this, and reading Jason's email will rip your gut up a little, is the youtube clips embedded towards the bottom. I mean the behavior of both guys stealing coins and examining the pill carrier are so frickin' ROTE that you know these goons have been up to much worse.
I'm gonna have to start counting my change before I take my car in now.
Friday, July 3, 2009
But he insists that pangolins are totally gay. Which is crazy, pangolins are totally awesome!
I mean it's a freakin' mammal with scales, freakishly overdeveloped claws, near immunity to ant bites *food source* and it can curl into a spiky ball when threatened. Its kind of like an armadillo but so much cooler.
Link to Original.
So anyway I made a little video, slammed it together from clips and nearly pulled my hair out because camtasia kept crashing and the audio splice was absurdly counter intuitive. At any rate, I got her done and present, in full glory, for your viewing pleasure.
Jaguarj0nes LOVES Pangolins
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
FASTER THAN THE SPEED OF LIGHT.
Are you fucking kidding me? Everyone on planet earth is worried about Michael Jackson, Billy Mays, Farrah Fawcett and the crap going on in Iran when this...THIS has been announced!?!?!!?
Read the article.
And for buddha's sake remember today, I know I will.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Overhead the UAV’s are negative stars on blue backdrop. Look directly at one and they disappear, gaze ever so slightly aside and there it is. These pixels account for more human casualties than both world wars combined. Something like twenty thousand patrol around the continent, sipping power from their ventral photovoltaic cells during the day and guzzling ground based laser light at night.
Thousands of aimbots garrison the countryside. Each holds a sphere of territory, stopped only by the earth boundary of air and earth. I imagine transparent blue domes, like a force shield that doesn’t just block out attacks but actively seeks and destroys. Anything human or human built crossing into the killspheres has about one tenth of a second for acquisition plus travel time of 40mm hypersonic grenades. Aimbots look like plumbing, just a bunch of tubes surrounded by a giant canopy of solar cells. Don’t be fooled, these things can vaporize a chicken at their nominal effective range. Semi-intelligent rounds can track and intercept anything on the ground. I have seen moving light armor slagged with zero warning.
The UAV’s assist the aimbots by guiding munitions beyond and through obstacles the aimbot itself cannot see. Everything in our LPS network created by bases, aimbots, UAV’s gets flung to the heavens up to the unmanned orbital weapons platforms and out to the encrypted GPS network.
And then there was us, frontline soldiers in the Dark Operations Theatre. Only six hundred actual people had boots on the ground. Most of these are Base and maintenance personnel. Even us chosen few are largely superfluous as a fighting force. The machines react and kill faster than I or any other human could even blink.
Our opponents are new have little time to learn the art of war. Every soldier and device in the DOT knows the art of killing as deeply as our native language. GM’s hold local omnipotence within MMO’s but we hold that sway over huge swaths of Africa. Killing a handful or a hundred people isn’t scary or thrilling, it’s just work. Our domination of this war is so complete that we have yet to suffer a single casualty from enemy fire.
“Orders came in,” Wren says. Well, he signs it out since he doesn’t have vocal cords. His modded suit monitors both gloves and translates his sign language into text which appears on my HUD. Wren loves war, it’s the only time in his life where he can easily talk to other people. Our latest assignment scrolls in brilliant green text across the faceplate heads up display. This screen, crafted from some arcane meta-material in the hellish evolved design labs by DOT scientists, tells me more about the world than my eyes, ears and skin ever could. Fist sized chunks of shrapnel ricochet of it without leaving a scratch, leaving the glossy proteins of my eyes free to prosecute immediate retaliation.
“We’re going back into the city,” I say. Wren’s head wiggles his Mark III into a nod. So much quicker to subtext, I think.
“You think we can snag another thousand kills, and still be back to base in time for dinner?” Wren holds his thumb up; I don’t need tactile text protocols to interpret. We do a gear check and the two of us walk towards a city populated entirely by people that would sell a thousand souls to see us dead.
“You know what’s funny,” I say to Wren. “We have the safest job on earth.”