Thursday, September 29, 2005
Another day at the blog factory...

Last week good ole Jim why he threw himself right off the bridge. But the blog factory, why, they din't pay nuthin to Sally, and now she's livin' on the street two towns over I hear. The blog factory, I ain't sayin' nuthin un't'wards bout it. No sir--you cain't be too careful, least round these parts. I trust yer face, you have a good honest face. So ...you watch yourself, is alls I'm sayin'. Come to work on time, don't make trouble. No, we ain't got no need for trouble round these parts.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
eBay brutally mocks you
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Monday, September 26, 2005
Did you see, did you see?



No, you can't hear the Kraftwerk. Apparently there's some Kraftwerk playing in the first one. I wouldn't know. I had a tough time remembering my name after watching.
Also, you might have seen him before....Elsewhere here or there.
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Of mice and men...
Saturday, September 24, 2005
Breathe a sigh of relief
One for the furniturati
More Questions Without Answers
Monday morning at the playground


Nintendo's waving its controller around all like, "fwwwoooosh, shwwwweeep! With my gyroscopic infrared controller I'm a swordfighting tennis spaceman superstar drummer!"
And then Microsoft goes, "YEAH, so what. My gyroscopic infrared controller can control Windows Media Player! Nyeeahhhh!!"
And Nintendo's all "Waaahhhhhhhhh!!"
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
If the Micro is too small...
Time to bone up on the l33t sp33k.


No super strafe jumping yet.
Yet, it is our birthright, and we will claim it one day. We will raise our voices as one and the sound will drown out the cynics and the pacifists, drown out the sound of the old 4-players-per-server regime, stifle the cries of Counter Strike players, until the dawn, when, as if after a rain, the ground shall pulse, beat like a drum with the suffocated life of yesterday breaking forth. It will become worn from trick jumps, and lens flared figure eights will glisten in the morning sun.
And that day, my friends...that day will be ours!








































