RESEARCH!

The internet has, from time to time, been called the information superhighway. Or at least it was back in the 90s. But no matter what the name, the internet is still a thing. And it serves a singular purpose: allowing constant unfettered access to pictures, videos and animated GIFs of cats.

There is a secondary “side effect” if you will to this constant feline access. And that is information. Lots of it. More than we could ever possibly need or want. Which is both good and bad. Bad because there’s some scary shit out there. Good because there’s no reason that we can’t find something out. And bad because people still don’t put in the 30 seconds of work it would take to find something out.

The concept of a hoax or rumor is nothing new. And in the days before the intercats it was often hard to get accurate information. But now we have the cat web. And things like Google.

Today I saw a tweet from Tweeter in which the Tweetere tweeted that Starbucks had refused to send some marines some coffee because they did not support the war or anyone having anything to do with it and that people should boycott Starbucks.

I found this to be...unlikely...

A quick Google query indicated that this was, indeed false. The rumor had actually once been applied to Oscar Mayer.

When I was working for Zin someone sent out a company wide email with some kind of PSA about plastic bottles. Something about how looking at them wrong will give your grandmother cancer...or something. But again a quick Googleing showed that it was false, and the professor cited had denied any knowledge of the research, and I think was in an entirely different field.

The point is, boppers, that if something sounds unlikely, inflammatory or downright wrong, you should probably Google it first before you hit "reply all."

Humanity will bring about it's own downfall. They need only wait.

What the Frack?!

I am currently listening to the single most vulgar public radio round table discussion ever. Seriously, I'm no prude but I cannot believe they're allowed to talk about this!

They're talking about public fracking, private fracking, fracking on farms and in towns. Horizontal fracking, vertical fracking, chemical fracking, group fracking.

Holy hell, hydro fracking! I can only assume that is some sort of demonic fracking ritual.

Wow. Just...wow...

I don't fracking know!

"Repent, Harlequin!" said the Ticktockman

So I've been staring at this for awhile. Haven't written anything, until now. But what to write? More on how job searching sucks? How when you upload your resume to a company they don't show you until after you submitted it that they chose to ignore all your formatting and make it a jumbled cluster fuck? (Though I have to imagine that when they actually look at it they download the file...but who knows.) Perhaps I should write about the futility of man and the human condition. Nobody wants to read that. And if you do too bad, because I don't want to write it.

I did apply to some space jobs. And I will apply to more yet. And more after that. Until, until...until...until I get one I guess.

The problem, as I see it, is that there are just not enough hours in the day. Even I (believe it or not) need to sleep from time to time. I find it incredibly annoying, but have come to accept it as an inevitably of the futility of the human condition. If only I didn't have to. I am going to start an online petition to extend days by 12 hours. The work day would have to be 9 hours, but now there are 12 extra hours in the day with which to get things done. This would have economic benefits as well. An entire shift of jobs would be created. Manufacturing production would increase because now there are 12 extra hours each day to produce things. Consumer consumption would increase because now there are 12 extra hours each day to consume things.

Let's be honest though, it would get squandered. Rather than make use of those 12 hours we would just sit on the couch and stare at reruns of SVU and NCIS as the hours tick by and the cuckoo clock cucs another koo. And then we would all come up with that cliched expression, "Holy hell, it's [x] o'clock already? What the hell have I done today?" I hate when people say that. I hate it even more when I say that. Which is all the time.

I have a bizarre obsession with time, though I am rarely on it. I find it difficult not to wear a watch. Not just because, for so long, I got used to having one on my wrist, but more that I don't know what time it is. I don't particularly care what time it is, I just feel compelled to know. This is often misunderstood as a desire to end whatever activity as quickly as possible. While this is often true it is equally as often not. I fully intend on being late to my own funeral. Though that will more than likely be because of bad weather conditions forcing The Knut to delay the launch. He might not though, he might not care. Then again, I see him as caring, not because he wants to launch me into space, but because he doesn't want anyone to say he failed to properly launch a rocket. The Pietras would probably care for the same reason. Toby wouldn't though. Because Toby is a cat. And cat's do not care about space. Cat's cannot comprehend space. Cat's cannot comprehend "outside." They are cats. They comprehend food. And sleep.

The Old Ones eat time. It will not matter then.

A New Solution

I just finished Mass Effect 3. I have no idea why people were complaining about the ending.

The games were utterly fantastic, but I do not think I can ever play any of them again. Not because they weren't amazing, but, as The Pietras put it, "It's over now, and that's how it fucking well happened."

I'll be interested to see what the "additional" ending material is going to be. Not that I think it needs any.

After all these years I can finally give The Knut Mass Effect back.

I...am done.

Four Weddings and a Messy Hotel Room

So here's the situation: You're on vacation with your family. You arrive back to your hotel room in the early afternoon only to discover that the maid has not yet cleaned. Do you A: Call down to the front desk and ask that someone come tend to it as soon as possible? B: Deiced you don't really care because it's not that big a deal? Or C: Flip a shit, order your children out of the "filthy" room and proceed to berate the maid who is in the middle of cleaning another room about how you can't believe that no one cleaned your room, that your family needs the room now, that you stay in hotels all over the world and that this is the first time this has ever happened to you blah blah blah.

I always feel a little weird whenever I cross paths with the maid in a hotel. If I'm in the room when she comes, or if I walk in on her. I don't want to be that creeper that sits in the corner and watches her clean or the asshole that pretends she doesn't exist. It seems to be a loose/loose. Except for Vegas. Then again hospitality in Vegas is completely different from most other places in the country. Hell, most of the time I just leave the "Do Not Disturb" sign up because I really don't care if my bed is made or my towels are changed. Unless I'm there for more than a weekend, then fresh towels are nice because hotel towels never seem to dry properly.

But this woman would not shut up. And her husband and kids had already walked away towards the elevator because they were "going to have to wait in the lobby because the room [was] filthy." I have no idea if she actually called down to the front desk, but judging by the way she kept carrying on, it didn't sound like it. Then the elevator came and we went away from her. Judging by the reaction of the husband and kids, I assume that they're used to this kind of thing happening.

If your hotel room is too filthy to be in after less than a day and you're not a cocaine fueled rock star, you're doing it wrong.

I do like the DC area. I'm reminded of this every time I'm there. Of course it helped that we were the high end part of the Northwest DC area. On our first walk down the street, walking past all the high end shops I was somewhat (justifiably) afraid that K Jo was going to spontaneously burst into debt. She behaved though. I'm thinking that my two main areas to look for work are going to be DC and Seattle. Not writing off anywhere else, just seems like those would be good places to be. Depending on what's available, of course. I've resolved that I'm going to have to find a job first and worry about grad school/Air Force later. There just isn't enough relevant work in the Cleveland area and I feel like I'm falling behind.

But on to the main event!

That's right, all you boppers out there! Pie and Dan are now married! They are now Mr. & Mrs. Dan Marino...or Pie Wiebke? Tom & Jane Evertt? I don't know! Why? Because Dan might have jumped the gun a little and not even let the priest finish before he tried to eat her face. It was cute though so we'll give him a pass on that one.

My mother was so happy/proud that she actually stood up in front of a bunch of people she didn't know and said words. Yes. This happened. The evidence will be presented...NOW

For those of you who don't know, my mother is so adverse to public speaking that she wouldn't even stand up at her own sons murder trial and say "he didn't do it" if that's all that was needed to get the charges dropped. Okay, that's probably not true, but you get the picture.

I also got to have lunch with The Cheese Puff. Though there is no photographic evidence of this because I'm not entirely sure it actually happened. Here's why: Last September The Cheese Puff got married on the outer banks. Flower was unable to attend as she was attending the wedding of a cousin. Alright, these things happen. And we are at that age where weddings just seem to come out of the woodwork so it's not unreasonable to think that there might be one or two conflicts over the years. We had the date for Pie and Dan's wedding awhile ago. And The Puff was excited that she was finally going to get to meet Flower. Until I had to break the news that Flower would be attending another cousin's wedding that same weekend. I am starting to think that one of them doesn't exist. If true this presents some serious issues. Forgetting all the social and medical issues that this might bring up, if true it's an extension I would have to apply to a great deal more than just a single person. What about all the people they know? Their families? People who have met the both of them, yet not seen them together? Sure they've heard about each other, but they've never met, never spoken, and how do I know that when I've shown one a picture of the other that they were just too polite not to mention that there was nothing there, or that the picture was really just me holding an iguana? How do I know?!

The job problem has been solved: Lion and I are going to open an Erotic Space Bakery.