To the bastard who stole my coat

Thank you for not also stealing my gloves, my headphones, my book, my glasses, my house keys, my hands free kit, my ID, my umbrella, or any of the other stuff that was in my bag. And how on earth did you manage to steal my bag when it was right next to me? Also, why did you steal the passport photo I used as a name label if you didn't steal the bag? Did you just wimp out at the last second? I really liked that coat. Bastard.
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Googlewhacked

Hey, I managed a GoogleWhack! (It was luddism exobiology; it will stop being a GoogleWhack as soon as Google indexes this.)
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It's time to leave the country

At least, if the country you're in is the USA, and you don't mightily fancy going off to get killed in Iraq. Yes folks, Bush is bringing back the draft. Cue "very special episodes" in every single teen drama, where one unpopular cast member gets drafted à la Happy Days. "The closest parallel to the Iraq situation is the British in Northern Ireland, where you also had some people supporting the occupying army and some opposing them, and where the opponents were willing to resort to terror tactics," says Charles Peña, director of defense studies at the libertarian Cato Institute. "There the British needed a ratio of 10 soldiers per 1,000 population to restore order, and at their height, it was 20 soldiers per 1,000 population. If you transfer that to Iraq, it would mean you'd need at least 240,000 troops and maybe as many as 480,000. "The only reason you aren't hearing these kinds of numbers discussed by the White House and the Defense Department right now," Peña adds, "is that you couldn't come up...
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And it's a whole new look for Steve. Kinky, but sexy.

And it's a whole new look for Steve. Kinky, but sexy.
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Please work.

Please work.
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Foxman -- in colour

Boy Meets Boy is now in colour for a whole month of Foxman comics! Oh joy! More sexy gay asian anime-esque characters, please... Just browsing old blogs I came across this post. Go on, answers on a postcard please. I can still remember vividly how important, how urgent it was that I work out the answers to that test, and how I could feel the answer on the tip of my tongue...
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I am the worst person in the world

When I had him, I managed to convince myself I didn't want him, for reasons that seemed so huge at the time, and so insignificant afterwards. In the very act of accepting that I had convinced myself and not arguing, he proved I was wrong. Then I didn't have him, and continued to discover how wrong I was with every subsequent failure. We reconciled, and grew closer than ever before, finding new flaws in each other but seeing new beauty at every step closer. And then inevitably we tried again, and suddenly once again the flaws loomed large and the beauty was lost. And now we cycle away once again, and once again the flaws disappear and the beauty is all I can see. I love him, but only at arm's length. I am the worst person in the world, and we are better off apart for that reason alone.
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Hey baby, I've got a big blog

Are weblogs not journalism at all, but a bizarre one-sided sort of new social interaction? "Look, here I am, here's as much as you could ever want to know about me. Do you like me? Get in touch. Preferably have your own blog ready so I can work out the same things about you." Which would mean my blog has entirely the wrong sorts of things in it.
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Exercise for the reader

A collection of little thoughts I noted down and was going to blog about, but haven't had time. I'm afraid you're going to have to think these ones through for yourselves... Making technology is one thing, making people use it is much harder. User Interface is not just a problem facing software and hardware designers, it is the only problem. There's very little technology that we can't do; there's lots that we're not any good at. Favourite example: TV remotes. Nobody can ever find the right buttons to press, there are loads of things TVs can't do that we wish they could My friends are WAY smarter than I give them credit for being. Why do people say "you're comparing apples and oranges" to mean you can't compare two things? They're both *fruit*, of course you can compare them. And I prefer apples. Apples and microchips, sure. Song to get you out of a bad mood: "hey whatever" by Westlife. Cheesy, but cheerful. Similarly "I won't worry" by Jason Mraz. Happy. Mindless. Yay! I'm half-italian and half...
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Zion is over!

More random post-Revolutions thoughts: Zion is over! ZION is over. Not the war. ZION is over. Then he changed the line, and said the war instead, and then people started cheering. Foreshadowing, no? What the fuck happened to the sentinel who jumped through neo? Also, sentinels are the names of the angels who guard the gates of heaven. How can smith control flesh? Where did he find those subroutines? There must be another Matrix. Likewise, how can Neo control Smith unless both are software? What is the golden matrix supposed to be? Binary? The golden matrix looks a lot like how I visualize the code I'm writing. Are all coders visual, or is it peculiar to me?
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Consider me black

Several times in the past few days, people I've been talking to have said things or expressed opinions that I would consider racist. When I pointed out that I thought their comments unfair, they tried to justify themselves, always beginning "it's not racist, it's just an observation" or whatever. So what's the definition of racist? Here's mine: say, for the purposes of example, that we're discussing something to do with black people. If a black person was in the room, would you say what you were about to say? Or would you rephrase it a little? If so, then your comment was probably racist, or amiguous enough to be offensive anyway. And just because I'm not black, or Jewish, or Pakistani, or Indian doesn't mean it doesn't offend me when you make unfair generalisations about those groups. And don't expect me not to "make an issue of it" just because there's nobody nearby who you think should be offended by it: by staying silent, I would be implicitly accepting your world-view, with which I disagree...
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Friday Five

So it's not Friday anymore. It was when I wrote this! Using one adjective, describe your current living space. Big. My room is huge. I like my room a lot. Using two adjectives, describe your current employer. Talented, annoying. You can have enormous respect for them and still get pissed off by them. Using three adjectives, describe your favorite hobby/pasttime. Creative, technical, amazing. Web development is my life. It seems sad from the outside, but I don't need your justification. Writing code one of the most fascinating and rewarding intellectual persuits that exist. Using four adjectives, describe your typical day. Sleepy,challenged,bored,engaged. Also known as: waking up, work before lunch, work after lunch, the rest of the time. Using five adjectives, describe your ideal life. Loved, happy, interested, accomplished, famous. In roughly the order of priority. For why I want to be famous, see number 10 on this list, executed by none other than the worship-worthy Sir Ian...
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Backlog ahoy

I have been storing up entries in advance of a major update at the back-end. That's been pushed back by a week due to other stuff I've been doing, so here are all this week's blog entries, all at once. Sorry!
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More thought dumping

The Church of England gives a surprisingly cool report in Some Issues of Human Sexuality. "Cool" as in "not bigoted". Although I suppose you shouldn't get credit for just being rational, in a religious group you sort of have to admire it. Lemon Jelly - Pushy. Download. Ordinary phrases that cannot be used by policemen: "what can I do you for?" REMEMBER: always be a little bit better than you were yesterday, and you will be unstoppable after a week or so. (I have so far been a little bit better than the day before for: 0 days in a row. Working on it.)
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Hubby time

(cross-posted to Gay Geeks Blog) From a recent letter to the editor in Tennessee: The actions taken by the New Hampshire Episcopalians (INDUCTING A GAY BISHOP) are an affront to Christians everywhere. I am just thankful that the church's founder, Henry VIII, and his wife Catherine of Aragon, and his wife Anne Boleyn, and his wife Jane Seymour, and his wife Anne of Cleves, and his wife Katherine Howard, and his wife Catherine Parr are no longer here to suffer through this assault on traditional Christian marriages. Meanwhile, in Massachusetts* the supreme court has knocked over the first constitutional domino to striking down all the mini-DOMAs across the states. Today is, actually, a great day for that reason alone. Fuck you bigots, all. The world will just have to get used to the fact that who I spend the rest of my life with is none of their business, and they don't get to deny my husband rights just because they disapprove. And yes, I'll call him my husband, not my partner or my lover or my...
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Reintroducing...

Carly and Dan, now with MovableType goodness.
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My love life

Seen today on my walk home (and blogged via mobile e-mail from my phone... working on that SMS gateway, folks...): a truck, swinging dangerously close to the corner on a turn -- I had to step back. On that corner, a heavily-leaning bollard wrapped in police tape. Sometimes the world is very easy to understand... Meanwhile, I finished the site I was working on all weekend. Go, visit! And buy some truly expensive but really nice furniture (yeah, like anyone that rich reads my blog). But when I say all weekend, I mean all weekend, from 8pm Friday until 10pm Sunday, with about 10 hours of sleep total in all of that time. Nightmare. And who the fuck told me to make a design that involves so many bloody circles? I have never cut and pasted so much in my life. Nobody has. Or ever will again. It would have been easier to write a program using GD to do it for me, which is in fact what I will probably end up doing to allow future updates. But not tonight. No, tonight I will not be touching that site. I am never...
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Merry Fucking Christmas, kid

From the author of an upcoming book on Bad Santas: While sorting through old photographs at my mother's house one Christmas, I came across a photograph that was to haunt me for years. It was a photo taken at a mall of my brother Michael sitting on the lap of Santa Claus. Innocent enough - loads of people have pictures of themselves or thier children sitting on Santa's lap...it's a tradition to see Santa every year, tell him what you'd like for Christmas,and get a candy cane. What struck a chord with me about this picture was the Santa himself. Slouched into the chair, one arm clumsily draped around my brother, much in the same way barflys casually hug thier fellow brethren before falling to the floor in a stupor. I looked closer...thick black body hair sprouted from every opening of the ill fitting Santa suit, the too-short trouses- revealing fish white, strangely pocked legs. This Santa boasted one enormous black eyebrow, an 5 o'clock shadow (needless the say the beard was falling off) and the dull...
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So today the BBC announces its plans to sell off its technology division, putting 1,400 jobs...

So today the BBC announces its plans to sell off its technology division, putting 1,400 jobs (including those of some good friends of mine) on the line. On the same day, a powercut knocks the BBC offline, so now they're broadcasting from Westminster instead. Who's responsible for the power at the BBC Television centre? You guessed it.
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Sparrow in a sunbeam

Jonathan Brandis committed suicide. Why does this make me sad? It's not like I knew him or anything. It's just kind of a bummer that someone pretty and young and talented is gone, I guess, and although that happens to better people every day, they're not people I've ever heard of, and they're not people I used to watch with near-religious fervor on SeaQuest. I would insert a cliche here like "he'll be missed" but the thing is, he won't really. I'd forgotten about him on an everyday basis for years until I saw this article, and by tomorrow it will have slipped my mind again. And I guess that only makes it seem sadder and more pointless. God, that's such a depressing thought. Somebody pass the prozac.
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