Questions you need the answer to.

No one. Wasn't that in the Gaddis the large-size rant about reproductions of planar visual artifacts? I think you have to go Roy Lichtenstein for the full story, in person. Wait, that doesn't work.

Who shows up early for a final and meets the instructor only to be told, "No, next week it is! It's on the course website." Gawd. Internet is for making jokes and screwing around. The calendar on my wall is for dates, color-coordinated with Sharpies of varying widths.

Ant and the grasshopper is pretty good -- to be ready and given a reprieve to fine-tune small-scale deficiencies. OTOH, the (maybe apocryphal) FDos tale about him having been tortured by his captors by having his reprieve from execution be granted moments before execution, multiple times, is also a pessimist's take, but I feel fucking great.

Holy shit. Unexpected reprieve today, just smoking my pipe and screwing around for a few before getting back to it. In a moment of ridiculousness, I for once in many weeks felt...what is going on visually outside? Pop on the glasses, and it was like a major head change. Holy shit, stuff is clear as day. Fuck, have to do this more often. But, still, weird.

Q for the day? How do people get used to seeing things at distances of forty-feet and even beyond, like people, as though they exist other than as fuzzy pasty images of talking heads! It's fun.

I do have a good one. First, some background. Obviously, no one cares to hear idiot children on a rampage in a private pool. But, now, having decided to claim a spot under an umbrella near this same private pool, I see two women in "charge" of two horrible cunt brats. One male, one female. Probably about four years old.

These two "parents" are some of the worst pieces of garbage I have voluntarily seen up close. Usually they're just hillbillies driving in the city, in which case they don't matter.

Who knew that women in their forties, who appear to be single, and have money, because they are allowed to be here and have fancy clothes or whatever, and they could buy children and toys and stuff, are utter pieces of crap?

Yeah, well, whatever, everyone knew that, but still, these women are trash and should have just been ejected from the brown stain of their pappys' mattresses.

The lack of concern, consideration, propriety, self-awareness, and even fashion, is horrible.

Also, they chose some bad kids to buy, or else it was a case that their foul ovaries had nothing better to give, at the time of inception.

How can one be so ignorant of how to raise a child? These people are pieces of shit, and their children, unfortunately, are also going to grow up to be pieces of shit.

OH here's a short question in easy stages. Yeah, so eventually I ran out of power down there, and before leaving, I deliberately put all of the plastic chairs around the canopied table in a neat row way off without being a dick, like fifteen feet away. Tried to compress the canopy, but that was too much work. So I come back up to the balcony where I can plug in and in my transit one of those ineffective people put some garish tote bag where I once was sitting, as though she were claiming her place should I come back.

I don't have a question. I thought I did, but I don't.

Yeah so those were kind of verbose to be real questions, unless answerable by the adept.

Here's one. And it's come up recently. Why in hell do people like to sit in the sun if there is shade nearby? I think it's a combination of vanity (m'as-tu-vu-ism), habituation, and the sensual pleasure of electro-magnetic radiation. But, still. There's a reason one can have a task or be "made in the shade."

And don't even talk to me about African savannah and so forth -- those big cats will sit in the shade when they have the option and aren't in need of EM radiation. And, don't even start with "Northern European cave-dwelling ice freak!" because every AA I've ever worked with has always been quite happy in a moment of respite to cool down in the shade.

Therefore, I conclude, going in maximal radiation is kind of a matter of (a) being habituated to the notion (b) because one is cold or (c) because there isn't any shade nearby.

ETA or else (d) doing it because ...fuck...I had a good one. Well whatever, just answer the fucking question, bub.

How can someone concentrate so hard on their mobile phone that they miss the large sign saying the toilets are being cleaned before walking in and surprising the cleaners?

I chuckled as I heard the exclamation from the cleaner behind the closed door.

What's the vigorish on persistent (+24 hours) nerve damage to an entire arm/hand due to tight handcuffs and a long confined period of transportation?

Just wondering. I have a friend. No, just kidding, I don't, but I was reading, er, I am mean, writing, a science fiction story about...

What's it all about, Alfie?

Quote:

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Originally posted by The Original An Gadaí

What's it all about, Alfie?

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Late-term abortions? Sonny Rollins?

Why, every time I go to McDonald's, does one of the kids who works there stick a phone in my face with a picture of a car, and ask me if it's mine?

Quote:

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Originally posted by Rube E. Tewesday

Why, every time I go to McDonald's, does one of the kids who works there stick a phone in my face with a picture of a car, and ask me if it's mine?

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I don't know. Because teens and twenty-something children are aliens with a prerogative mission to be annoying, stupid, hard-of-knowing, differently-abled, media-influenced bitches?

I'm guessing that's probably it.

Why is it that if a detention cell is so poorly constructed one might, if true, break one of the hinges by applying constant momentary force against the door for a period of several hours?

My third try on a spotty connection, but I have to get my end in. I don't know. Teens and twenty-somethings are just little aliens with only a vague connection to human communication.

In other words, they are fucking different-ableds. That is pretty weird. You should probably tell them to fuck off the next time they fuck with you in such a weird way. I know I would.

I need to know the answer to if someone can think of some good rules to play sudo apt-get remove ubuntu-desktop Alligator Eggs with? (Wrong ctrl-V). So, yeah, like someone had a good point and since I'ma be playing with grandparents, both sets (for them), parents, and nephews, will alter the "old alligator dying" probably but just do that whatever, make it up as you go.

But what are some good puzzles that aren't too hard and that even I can do? I'm still (*still*) trying to be the man at all aspects of lambda calculus, which is what this colored puzzle piece game is about, therefore I was hoping it would be more a Wffnproof kind of thing.

Apparently u gottu roll yr own, and I'm not smart enough yet.

So work it up, bitchez.

Why can I understand only about a third of what Jizzelbin writes?

Because you're hard of knowing?

How come noseeums are so small but they itch so very, very bad, all over? I hate them.

They probably have spiky prickly little legs. Maybe they piss on you and their urine makes you itchy.

EH, The Jizzle tends to prefer the ''word salad'' variety of expression. This may have started in his anal stage, running his fingers through his caramel-coloured faecal matter, and putting car keys into electrical sockets, because they aroused some Oedipal desire within him. So, EH, basically don't let it concern you too deeply.

Does anyone here use Whatsapp? Is it any good? Does it do anything that Viber or ICQ can't?

Dunno about Whatsapp. And yes, I understand Jizzle's style if not his content.

What in the shit are you people talking about?

Question: where have people been hiding orally-administered antihistamines all my life? That shit is fucking great. Could also be good as sleeping pill AKA caffeine anitdote. Very effective against biting midges bites even by the dozen. I smell a conspiracy, because that stuff really does the job.

What ones are they: Phenergan or Polamine? Be careful using either. They are great, yes. But they are nasty if you use them improperly.

I don't know what kind they are. They just come in a box that says "antihistamine" on it. They are pink or pinkish red. I take them orally -- I think that's the proper way.

Sounds like polaramine. Weird to not have them labelled properly, though. Polaramine tends to zonk me out really badly, so I avoid it as a rule. But it affects different people differently.

Why did this e-mail get sent around my office this morning:

I found a pair of brown socks on the kitchen floor. I put them on the microwave.

Would that sterilize all of the coworker cooties?

I hope they were brown to begin with, not like a pair of white socks that became brown...

Those are all right. I might host my drunkle's b-day party next week at my place, so I got out my "cleaning" supplies (T-shirtssockswithholesandbadstains, ex-so aprons and DL, loads of rags) and some other stuff. Shit gets stained mang.

Question: how much should I bother doing stuff beyond the obvious like putting my countably finite but numerous piles of documents, paperwork, notes of all kinds in my little office room (preserved but spatially scalaraly reduced, like a vector operation), and bothering with putting the audio mixer off the coffee table, the TV (which I think has been broken for about two years) balanced on a speaker, and, eh, put some nice throw rugs down and do the usual wash the head out (no dummy, the head the head, this is not a fucking date).

TV has to come down, and, probably, I might give that to my uncle as a present. It's actually not broken, just that DTV box thing, I guess. And even if it weren't, there's like the internet or whatever, so whatever. And the 1202 mixer can just sit on top of a speaker. And the couch stays like it is. I will not be convinced to move it facing the fireplace. I don't light fires because that's where my unopened smoke alarms and CO detectors go, along with spare gift wrap for when holidays roll around. Seriously. My office is going to be for hardy souls only, though. SHRIEEEEK!!! FIRE HAZARD!!!! WHHOOOPP! WHOOP! Fuck it.

Oh yeah, and I guess the job I did of "fixing" one problematic device on a circuit by unseating it from the wall, leaving the wires and receptacle hanging out, and leaving attached a little nonce device plugged in might have to be remedied.

Hey it's like that movie *Birdcage* or whatever that was with those people.

Eh, fucking A I guess I just do what I normally do when people come over, but my normal guests know me to be a slob whose keyboards are always ready to play and my bookshelves are sorted, and I'm ready to do what I can.

To some extent, my vulnerability is that I only really do a few things pretty good, and that's basically (a) get paid to be myself (b) be myself by being regular to people I like (c) be very vulnerable when I can neither be myself nor do my thing. That last seems like a problem, but, much like a lot of things, if you run into (c) a lot, you've made some problems. Whatever.

ETA and yes, connection is the only thing that gives anything meaning. Whatsoever. This is partly why I have a hard time integrating into my new cohort -- why dont they CARE about anything? I'm gaining technical acumen for a reason, and that reason is to explain, ultimately, facts about existence. Modal operators in logic are fascinating, as are context-free grammars and PDAs and all these elemental tools, but there was a time when we thought about things to think about things. Avital Ronell, *The Test Drive.* Good book. Whatever.

Oh yeah, so I am allowed another question because ur all too slow. So a RL old buddy shamelessly tried to rope some chippies into doing this quiz about that monkey or lion or whatever from the Screwtape guy Lewis, and not the modal logician, the CS Lewis, the Lion Witch, not CI Lewis, the logician and worthwhile person.

It needs to have a bunch of Javascript enabled and I'm still figuring out what I can trash on my little ghettoLinux box while logged in as root (yeah, I know, but I can handle it) before having to recompile or whatever all this crap.

Oh yeah, so like you people should do this and tell me what all this is supposed to mean.

I fry mine in butter.

Hey dinkbags here's a legit question. WTF is up with this fucking insect bullshit bites? It only started after two weeks ago I got feasted on by a bunch of noseeums. Pretty sure I don't have bedbugs -- probably could, but nothing precipitated their introduction AFAIK, into my place, except maybe slightly warmer weather. And these bites or lesions or whatever are clustered on wrists, elbows, and upper thighs.

And it's not crabs. At least I hope not. See, unlike you degenerates I have actually never got the crabs.

Yeah, I highly doubt it is a mad spider nest -- I fucking actually love spiders, well, insofar as they kill other bad bugs, but aside from some hobo spider-looking motherfucker crawling out of a Jacquette spine toward my head, which made me question it's motives, they cool.

Srsly, WTF? Is there enough antihistamine? Claritin isn't strong enough and I'm out of fake benadryl. And almost out of liquor. So link it up ho!

Also new question: how to avoid taking a Sharpie and just making circles around my numerous lesions? I think it would be hilarious, but I'm not confident I can wash it off by this Sunday when am hosting a family party for people whom I actually like. nStill, it would be funny.

Hey, since I am forced to buy really expensive health insurance from this cunt whore at the university, I think I should actually circle every bite in magenta Sharpie, go to the ER, and have a hilarious Saturday.

Because fucking A I'm just going to be taking notes and writing code anyway, so might as well do it in an ER where I can see some cool people, and get my rocks off by insisting some fatass burnout RN call me "Doctor," and also get me some breadsticks.

Actually, it is of some concern to me, but last I checked, my internist doesn't come in without being paid, and my insurance pays for ER calls, and in my professional opinion, my condition may warrant immediate attention by tomorrow.

Because it itches.

Sunlight is good for dealing with ''noseeums'', as you call them. Proper hygeine and frequent washing of bedding will also help. Maybe one of those fleabomb-type things. No, don't eat it, you turkey. Activate it in your living space. Make sure you're not there when you activate it, coz it contains toxic shit and will not be good for your lungs, nose etc. You're welcome.

I mean, obviously you have to be there when you activate it, I mean make yourself scarce straight after. Then eat some vegetables, young man!

Just...never mind, ur being like totally serious. Although I did circle one arm -- I like upwards of fourteen on wrist, forearm, upper arm. Ridiculous. No, it's fine, whatever, I was just mildly irritated and offended at this fresh fucking hell. I figure I only have a few years before I get some lung disease or get beat to death by a cracker militia, so whatever, fuck it.

That's the spirit! Good things come to those who give up trying. Success is yours, hombre!

Shouldn't the back-to-school sales be over before the Halloween candy is out?

ur shitting me. I just bought on special a week ago like armfuls of spirals @$0.19 down from @$1.19, and was waiting for more savings.

now i just have to stock up on more feet of garden hose for when the hipsters start trying to trickRtreat

I used to have "Back To School" sales back when I was a retailer. :(

Quote:

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Originally posted by The Original An Gadaí

I used to have "Back To School" sales back when I was a retailer. :(

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Heard that, dawg.

I needed more of my beloved 4x6 notecards, so went to the dollar store and there were like three packs (of a hundy each) left.

At first I thought -- 'fucking shitheads, someone stole my method, that i stole from Benjamin' and after asking around, I think a lot of the little kids have to report for normie school with like hundreds of blank notecards.

Still, I hit the sales, due to my experience, and, age, and stuff, at the local Freddy's and got a shitload of paper for doing stuff.

Like, you know, John Doe from *Seven* had bunch of paper and I bet he didn't pay full price.

======================================

Oh yeah, I think I might be non-normie, but I was just now trying to convince myself that repeated radix division works for any number base converting to any other.

Either I'm doing it wrong -- I even used a pencil -- but WTF from binary to decimal?

Differnt algorithm or I need a new non-normie helmet. At least a chinstrap for my current non-normie helmet.

Also, question 2, is it just that I'm an asshole that I can't figure this out, or am I right? And also wrong in that I can't see the solution.

Hey numbnuts, why can't I apply radix 10 repeated division to binary 1111, keeping track of remainders using Euclid, and get something even close to reasonable? Why is this method so freaking special to get to radix ~10?

QUESTION ONE

I would like to know where and how to acquire a copy of the unpublished Kerouac French novel, *Sur le chemin.* I just now came across this very interesting little short interview with somebody who has kind of unearthed a shitload of information on Kerouac's relationship to the language.

Apparently he didn't speak English until he was 6. I didn't know that. I knew he spoke Joual (kind of a hillbilly Canadian French, I guess), as a kid, from Clark Coolidge's essays about JK, but I didn't know Lowell, MA was kind of a little enclave to a somewhat large degree. Also, Jen Kirkman, who is a fucking foxy funny girl is from Lowell, MA, IIRC.

So I was all psyched to make the ILL bitchez go get me a copy, but it seems this is still unpublished. That's weird. Obviously people want to read this. Idiots.

(The interview I linked to is from a French newspaper -- it's really interesting, though, so if you can't read it, I'd recommend putting it into one of those translator things, or whatever they are).

================

QUESTION TWO

The interviewee said one reason these manuscripts weren't paid any attention to until, like 2008 or whenever, is that apparently the Joual dialect (or whatever you call it) is quite a bit different to regular French, and that it takes a Quebeckistani to read it.

I saw the wiki page on Joual, and I don't know what the big deal is. Shouldn't be any harder than reading XVIth C prose or poetry, probably.

Is this true?

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QUESTION THREE

WTF!!!!! The French are good at a few things, and publishing books is one of them. They fucking love books. They don't make indexes for shit, and they don't give two shits about making proper citations, but they have a major hard-on for book publishing.

So WTF? Unpublish *this* you French motherfuckers, right up your frog asses.

I don't know how to get the book, but I know that the condescending attitude of the French to Quebec French defies belief. I've heard of people from France who insisted they needed a translator in Quebec, but, oddly, the Quebecois never seem to need one the other way.

Thanks. I'd forgotten there were actual Canadians here -- therefore, winning. Also, I'd forgotten the serious, not at all risible or marginal, political fervor of some Quebecois, and did not at all mean to make light of their plight by calling them by a funny denizen label.

But seriously, I did also forget entirely the attitude of Frenchmen and their women to non-Academie language. Also, I suspect the attitude of the French literary public to Kerouac is that of an adult to a child, or a whisperer to a dog. Other modernists, like Joyce, Pound, and certainly less famous artists like Zukofski, Cid Corman (himself a prolific master of translation, particularly of French romantic, symbolist, and modernist poetry), and others are essentially unread except by a handful of specialists.

My pal was rared in France from age 5 until 12 or so then back to Ireland and he was in Québec a few years ago and wound up in a situation where he had nowhere to stay and a woman invited him back (mais pas de hanqué-panqué) but told him he had to pretend to be French because her cousins from out of town were also staying. He said he landed in and was talking to them, backwoods Québecqois, and they didn't seem to realise he wasn't French but he said to me that to him their French sounded, and I quote, "retarded". This isn't a guy who is typically snobbish so it was kinda weird.

Odd, eh, that otherwise intelligent people can't understand that there's nothing special about one form of language, they all have their own history and rules.

George Bernard Shaw is said to have remarked, "The French do not care what they say as long as they pronounce it correctly."

Here's a real question. I turned on the radio (in the US, it's called NPR), whatever, just normal, and there was actually some .... biting tongue ... differently-abled .... person expounding about some bullshit about physics (cosmology, basically).

Wow. What person, or "journalist," if you prefer, can keep a straight face talking with some mere scientific technician who is clearly talking about the equivalent of his or her bad dreams?

[as it happens, just as I was talking, another story came up about some kid talking inexpertly about something. ridiculous.]

Serious question: as I was looking at my facebook under "view as public" to see why, other than a kickass technical interview, I got hired Monday as a member of an events technical coordination team (as an egomaniac, I assumed they looked me up to see if I was legit and shit, as I assume all people do), I was thinking/pacing out for fun some reasons how I could explain why a famous local pianist is not just acquaintance but "friend" with me.

So, yeah, like the question, do people use the term "blasted in the ass" ever to mean a good thing?

As in, when I was sixteen or so, her recording just blasted me in the ass: it was great.

Usually one hears the phrase as, e.g.: "The financial aid office really blasted me in the ass this term." Et sim.

Somehow it sounds wrong, but it felt right just working out some dialogue for my novel about...fuck you, that's what it's about.

I have a good one fresh from now: I had queued up a buddy from way back posted the old, cracked.com video video about man-love thwarted or whatever.

So, like, let's keep in touch, you Alberich-looking hairless dwarf of a freak.

So like fucking hilarious, right?

Full-disclosure, we talk on the phone every few drunkeeks and he tries to antogonize me sexually ith my cousin, but I still haven't seen him in like 10-15 years.

Quote:

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Originally posted by Jizzelbin

ur shitting me. I just bought on special a week ago like armfuls of spirals @$0.19 down from @$1.19, and was waiting for more savings.

now i just have to stock up on more feet of garden hose for when the hipsters start trying to trickRtreat

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And...welcome to your resident queen.

I just *hate* those little people with their noxious fumes!

Good news, it is now the second week of courses and I have (a) got a campus job as an awesome one and (b) got another one as a note-taking one and (c) whatever, I might make rent so I can buy a new corncob pipe. This one is fucked, and ducktape wrapped around a stem attracts unwanted attention. E.g., some random rude: "Uh, I'm sorry to interrupt, but would you like happen to have a little piece of bud you could spare, please?" I mean, he was a nice little foreign guy, and I tried to show him that my corncob pipe covered in duck tape wa really just the ravings of a madman, I had to say, "Sorry, bud. Just, you know, tobacco."

See, you gotta be nice to people. That's why I hate people who are like "prahseseez" and inattentive, incompetent drivers. They make me assert myself, and I just want to do my stuff, not worry about someone else's weirdo idiosyncracies.

Fuck, just do your thing, don't bother me, I won't bother you, but everyone's good, so if there's a fire, I'll be there. I hope vice versa, but whatever.

That's like the code.

OK here's also a good one. Im sorry if you have something better to do on a Saturday. Go do that.

So, anyway, I, first think I got up this morning, not at my own place, but at a place which had a baby grand piano. Nobody else was around, so after having some toast I started to think....blhe bleh let's do piano, and I sat down and like "ccccccccc" eventually so whatever I was like "like nice if u can get it.....
it urned our tat c' -> db was like the melody, so i soent like 3 min trying to remember what the original was.

so whatever and obviously I was thinking of monk's famous so I ended up on the f7 on that or whatever.
\
But then like two hours later I was sad and tried to do "just a gigalo" -- i came on two ways, just by ear, i guess just back in Ab for whateer reason.

goddammit just i spent like three goddamm hours doing some good ass music you stupid monkeys.