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Copyright |
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©2005 Jason Cross
All Rights Reserved
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 Friday, December 27, 2002 |
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Wednesday, December 18, 2002 |
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Tuesday, December 17, 2002 |
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Let it be known to the Five Readers, IM contact has been made with The Elusive One. |
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Monday, December 16, 2002 |
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Saturday, December 14, 2002 |
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First linked by Phil, this is a great essay on piracy.
It essentially says that piracy hurts the distributors, not the medium itself, and that it should be looked at as a progressive taxation on the few products well known enough to even merit being pirated. It also goes on to discuss how historically free distribution methods inevitably become overshadowed by higher-quality pay-for methods anyway.
Read it here. |
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Friday, December 13, 2002 |
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As the Kikkoman saga continues, the following was posted on Benn's comments by an unknown (cough *josh* cough) poster...
Master Benn, at my first viewing, I believed that Kikkoman was a lone agent in the war to proliferate the use of Kikkoman soy sauce to the known world. Upon further examination, I have found that Kikkoman has two sidekicks, though they are of the usually inept variety, constantly running to Kikkoman whenever trouble appears. His two compadres, known as Suman (who I can only guess represents the yellowish substance represented as mustard whose ingestion is similiar to a pocket paks experience though not as severe) and a mysterious man known in the inner circles only as sugar cube with root symbol man. Though Kikkoman appears to use Suman as a human shield against Worcestshireman, he is obviously upset when the contents of Suman's head spill onto the ground. A special note about Worcestshireman: Worcestshire is made of soy and vinegar; it is believed that Worcestshire was originally Kikkoman's brother, but once tainted by the vinegar taste of the darkside, Worcestshire turned on Kikkoman in homoerotic rage. The connecting roundhouse between Kikkoman and Sugarcube believed to be an exchanged of blows is actually the equivalent to a high-five. This brief exploration into the world of Soy has not only shown that Kikkoman is joined in his crusade to spread soy the world over, but also shows some tasty treat ideas for icecream and omelets.
The true identity of Kikkoman? Hmm... |
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Wednesday, December 11, 2002 |
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I have no idea where Benn finds this stuff, but somehow he does...
Enjoy...Kikkoman! |
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Tuesday, December 10, 2002 |
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Ok, so this is a bit of an oldie for some of you, but I figure the other two of you readers might be unfamiliar with and appreciate Benn's "The Pocket Pak Experience" entry from last fall...
The "Pocket Paks" Experience
It'll happen to you at some time or another. You'll get that urge, that feeling of insatiable desire to try it. Maybe you've got a really hot date that night. Maybe you've heard the stories and you just want to try it for yourself. Maybe you have some deep-seated death wish guiding your actions. Whatever the reason, you'll open it up, and you'll place the tiny thing in your mouth.
I am speaking, of course, of Listerine's breath-enhancing "Pocket Pak" strips. Or, as I like to call it, Tiny Tape of Terror. There is a considerable lack of literature available dealing with the experience, and so I have compiled a moment-by-moment analysis:
1. Incredulity. You've heard all the stories, read all the warnings, but when you open the minuscule container and remove one of the deadly little things, you cannot believe any of it. The tiny strip is thinner than Scotch tape, and no longer than the bridge of your nose. It's probably 1/100th of a Smoot at best. How could it be possible, even according to basic physical laws, for that to cause so much pain? Laughing haughtily, you open your mouth and place it on your tongue.
2. Extreme skepticism. There's nothing to it. Can't feel a thing. The strip has dissolved, but nothing accompanies its destruction. No suffering, no fear, nothing. It must be a big joke.
3. Hyper-irrationality. The first wave hits. Your initial reaction is to jump out of your skin to escape the overwhelming sensation of fiery hell that descends upon you. You may exhibit outward signs of self-destructive behavior at this time. You may claw and tear at your skin, causing significant tissue damage. You may open your mouth to scream, but no sound will come out. Fortunately this stage is short enough that you might avoid doing permanent damage, if you're lucky.
4. Hallucination, derangement. By now the sticky substance completely coats every centimeter of the inside of your mouth. Had you any rationality left to you, you'd wonder how so much goo could be produced by something the size of a postage stamp. But you do not think about this, it does not even occur to you. Rather, you begin to experience visual and auditory illusions. The specific details of this stage differ from person to person. Some have reported seeing their entire lives flash before their eyes. Others claim they've observed physical manifestations: demons climbing up nearby walls, the floating disembodied head of Col. Sanders informing them that everything they know is wrong, or something of that nature. The "lucky" few who pass out and miss this part of the experience talk of dreams so bizarre they sometimes cannot return to ordinary sleep for days.
5. Overwhelming desire to escape. Assuming you've maintained consciousness through the last two stages, you are attempting to form a plan to save yourself from certain destruction. What little remains of your sanity informs you that if you spit or attempt to remove the substance from your mouth with a vacuum or some other cleaning appliance, you'll have to go through this again from the beginning with a new strip. You do not want to go through this again from the beginning with a new strip. Saliva begins to build in your mouth, because you dare not swallow and risk suffering the feeling that you know would result if the goo were to travel down your throat. You may begin to drool or otherwise act in an impolite fashion at this time. It is imperative never to attempt a Pocket Pak strip experience while in the company of important people, for this reason. Do not place one in your mouth at a job interview. Keep them away from you during the moments just before you walk down the aisle at your wedding. The best place for a Pocket Pak is in your own bathroom, which is preferably constructed of lead, and make sure you have a functional plumbing system "just in case".
6. Steady relief. The goo that previously coated your mouth seems to be disintegrating, though you cannot be sure how, why, or where it has gone. You can move your tongue again, the paralysis has abated. You begin to make pleasurable cooing noises, and the rational center of your brain returns to ascendancy. You look around your environment and wonder how everything wound up scattered across the floor.
7. Pleasant amnesia. You do not remember much about the past minute of your life. You know you've just undergone something terrifying, but you cannot remember what it was. There's a small green container lying at your feet, and many tiny green strips of tape lying in jagged formation beneath it. You cannot recall what it is, or what any of it means, and you cannot reach down to touch it. When you try, you experience a terrible nauseous sensation. You wander off in a fugue state, possibly crashing into walls or otherwise injuring yourself. Still, no matter how badly you've stubbed your toe or crushed your arm, somehow you know it's not the worst pain you've ever felt. You are thankful.
I hope this little missive serves to warn potential Listerine sufferers of their fate, but I suspect they are likely to dismiss it as hogwash. Those of you who have been where I described, however, know the truth of my statements. May they be your guide when it comes to be your time. |
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From Slate:
"According to a history at SPAM.com, the name is a mushing-together of "spiced ham" and was born of a contest with a $100 prize. Perhaps a meat product that is scrambled and pummeled by industrial processes into a brazenly inorganic geometric shape once seemed futuristic and exciting. But like a lot of things that once seemed futuristic and exciting, Spam now seems funny and maybe a little creepy. You can't help but imagine a big vat of, I don't know, whipped pig, being poured into those cans. It doesn't make you think of ham, it makes you think of Soylent Green."
Mmm...whipped pig... |
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Sunday, December 8, 2002 |
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So my cat has once again gone insane and attacked me without provocation. Every so often she just gets this...look. I step back, but she takes it as a sign of weakness and jumps forward. I move forward on the offense, and she hunkers down, this low growl in her throat. Rrrrrrr. We stare at each other, at an impasse. I debate - back or forward? Which will piss her off less? Can I grab her without losing a hand? What's she so mad about? I try letting her talk on the phone to Lori, and she just starts growling at the phone! Is there no making this cat happy? Where's the reason? I finally let her attack me for a second, I shout "No!" at her to scare her a bit, and she runs off, until she comes back a few minutes later like nothing had ever happened...until the next time. |
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Tonight I went to see the movie 8 Mile with Lori (who accused me of owning "The Postman" by the way - Kevin Costner, not the Italian Academy Award winning Il Postino - can you believe that? Oh wait, I guess I am the guy who owns Killer Klowns from Outer Space...) Not too bad, though I believe seeing it once is enough. Wow, Eminem sure can act...as HIMSELF! Don't get me wrong, I've read the stuff saying that the script was written before his involvement and that it's just coincidental but come on... who are we kidding, right?
This weekend also marked the beginning of the Christmas season for me, with Dickens of a Christmas (which was very cold and pretty dull this year) and the start of my Christmas shopping. Three down, more to go! |
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Tuesday, December 3, 2002 |
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Today is Ian's birthday, so with much ado and fanfare we present the second Legend of Ian...
Submitted by Robert H Wolfkill of Silver Point, PA
After reading Ms. Baker's report about your friend's whereabouts, I put two and two together and came up with four (as we say around these parts). You see, there's been all sorts of weird stuff going on as of late in our town. Chickens missing, cows scratched up one side and down the other, heck even my dog Jeb has been too afraid to come out from under the bed for the last three nights. Most people in town have been blaming it on wild dogs, but I'm not so sure. You see, when it's late at night and you get enough liquor in the old folks at the bar, they sometimes begin to talk about similar events from 50 years ago. Their eyes get that distant, half-pain and half-terror look and they tremble as they begin to talk about the curse and the legend of Silver Point.
Sorry, Mr. Cross, but that's as far as I can go, because what starts as Silver Point business STAYS Silver Point business. What I can say though is that there is a legend of a return to Silver Point of a man with a name both Trojan and Eire... And if he has returned, then I will have to do what my grandfather did a half-century ago...
Oh yeah, almost forgot, this Ian guy tried to sell me his car. I passed and am not sure where he went.
So Ian tried to sell his car to this gentleman who didn't buy it. Did the car sell? The world may never know... |
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