bobthermit

Thu, 19 Jan 2006 05:31:36 GMT

FrayedSynapse: Alright, I gotta go teach some girl vector math and then get plasteredd
BloodSalesman: but Carl
BloodSalesman: you don't know vector math
FrayedSynapse: but she doesn't know that!
BloodSalesman: ::salute::
FrayedSynapse: *salute*

FrayedSynapse: check this:
FrayedSynapse: it's an actual Plato quote:
FrayedSynapse: "A dog has the soul of a philosopher."

Wed, 11 Jan 2006 02:29:19 GMT

"Oh Jim...behave yourself! This is too early in our relationship!"
"But Sparky, we've been going together for nearly seven months in dog years!"

Sun, 11 Sep 2005 02:44:23 GMT

My wall is fucking covered in yellow sticky notes. I mean fucking covered in sticking notes. There's got to be at least three layers of them - I don't know how deep it goes. The floor is starting to become littered with them. People must have been stepping on them, because a few of have managed to migrate their way to the stairs. I don't know who tracked them in though - I never have guests over. It's only a matter of time till they make it up the stairs, and I start finding little half-glued reminders all over my rug. That's when the shit hits the fan, because I'm not cleaning this mess up.
Hell, most of this shit that's reminding me stuff to not forget is stuff I never remembered. Good fucking deal these notes are if I can't figure out what half of it means. Most the stuff isn't in my hand writing - a few are in a language I can't place. Yesterday, I spotted one that was nothing more than a picture of a clown.

No one's asked me about the mess yet, well, except for Gavin. He's the only one who ever wants to go in here. I think he's adding to it as a joke. He didn't start it though.
I caught him touching it once.

Last night I found one all the way up to the bathroom at the head of the stairs. I think it's only matter of time till I walk in my girlfriend cheating on me with a pile of sticky notes.
Then I'll know why they're so fucking sticky.

Their fort's in my office. Well, it was an office...I guess it still is. I don't consult anymore. Programming that is. I'm working on this script. I'm a writer. Well, you knew that. But I can't keep writing, this sticky note says I've got a meeting with Randal in a few minutes.
And that's something I do remember.

Randal's a cool guy. He looks like me, only taller. Skinny, dark hair, dark eyes. I'd have his tan if I ever went outside wearing something less than a sweatshirt. I owe him one for hooking me up with my girlfriend - I owe him another for the job. He owns a film studio which specializes in thrillers, but his real passion is for the absurd. But absurdly, he is passionate for a real thriller in which the film studio specializes in owning him. It's called "Catching Laughter," and I'm the writer.

Rest Assured My Friends! (How to Identify Misinformation)

Wed, 31 Aug 2005 06:32:30 GMT

H e x 4 D e f 6: dep of homeland security ID number, please
BobtHermit: Sorry sir, I don't have my national ID yet
H e x 4 D e f 6: what??
H e x 4 D e f 6: It's been retroactively made illegal not to carry one
BobtHermit: want my social, W number, last name, first name, middle initial, date of birth, address, phone number, immediate family member's contact data, and credit card number instead?
H e x 4 D e f 6: I already have that
BobtHermit: I was going to say
H e x 4 D e f 6: I have lexisnexis, after all
BobtHermit: "You already have it"
BobtHermit: wasn't that free for a few days?
BobtHermit: because I remember searching social security numbers on a private research site
BobtHermit: I think it was that one
BobtHermit: they had it free for a few days as a publicity stunt I think...
H e x 4 D e f 6: I'm not sure
BobtHermit: Wait...why did you know about LexisNexis?
BobtHermit: I thought the stalker stuff was a joke
BobtHermit: right?
H e x 4 D e f 6: erm
H e x 4 D e f 6: haha. of course its a joke. haha
H e x 4 D e f 6: haha
BobtHermit: yes, a joke
H e x 4 D e f 6: haha
H e x 4 D e f 6: yes
BobtHermit: a joke you wouldn't want to get out to your parents, right?
H e x 4 D e f 6: STOP QUESTIONING ME
BobtHermit: you have a nice family
BobtHermit: see you around

Something is very wrong with me

Sun, 07 Aug 2005 00:40:18 GMT

The following is a homework assignment I turned in last week for my philosophy class. Here was the prompt -
Discussion: Describe a morally important situation you have encountered and determine whether you did the right thing according to the Principle of Utility. Do you agree with the Utilitarian analysis of your action?

As a child, I grew up on a ranch in northern Idaho. A neighbor of ours had a deaf child named Logan, who happened to like an online videogame I played often. We started out playing games together on the internet, freely chatting through the use of a the software's messaging service. Eventually, we began to spend time in person - we'd communicate either through a keyboard or through a pad and paper I kept around me. Our system for communication proved frustrating within a few hours and he began to teach me American Sign Language. I caught on, and within a few months we could fluently "talk" to each other about whatever we wanted. When I turned 16 I tested for my driver's license (the age limit was different then), and we began to go on trips exploring whatever we fancied.

For one of these trips, we decided to go hiking in the woods near our a small city to the North. My girlfriend at the time usually didn't attend these trips - she always felt too tense around Logan to enjoy herself. However, she felt I was ignoring her and demanded she came along on the hike. I should have canceled the hike then and there, but I was oblivious to the stress forming in our relationship so I agreed to have her on board. To let my girlfriend talk to Logan, I had her drive so I could interpret (interpreting requires your vision and body). The conversation was composed of Michelle asking terse and biting questions of Logan. I interpreted faithfully, hoping that her mood would change. It did - for the worse. She shifted her questions from "why don't you get along with your mother?" to "what's your favorite music?" I was appalled by her insensitive questions - I didn't know what to do. As she was asking her next question, I tried to get her to stop, but she just flared up at me. Logan had answered every question passively, not taking her bait - until she asked him about his favorite music. He just made a pleading face - I was too shocked to say anything, so I just kept silent.

"Well? What is it?" she asked.

I still didn't answer.

Michelle kept asking poisonous questions. Finally she asked "Logan, what radio station would like you to listen to?"

I signed to Logan "she asked me when to turn for the ridge."

Michelle turned on the radio, and was silent the rest of trip. When we showed up, it was nearly five. We got out of the car and began to walk. Michelle kept asking him virulent questions - and Logan started becoming visibly distressed. Finally, she asked one that isn't appropriate for this forum, and I decided I had enough. I paused, thought, and instead of signing the disgusting thing she wanted me to tell him, I signed to him "I hear you like Tolkien. Which book is your favorite?" Logan's face brightened up, and he immediately signed back "The Hobbit." I told my girlfriend he signed back a simple and passive answer, and this continued for a full 40 minutes. At one point Logan asked me why Michelle was crying. I told him "nothing's wrong. A bug flew in her eye."

I still look back at that day shocked at how Michelle behaved. Michelle was acting totally psycho, and I didn't want Logan to think of me as a monster from then on. He was my best friend, and I still write to him now that I've moved - I wasn't going to torture my best friend because my girlfriend was angry with me. So I decided to take the path that would minimize the unhappiness - I "made up" a conversation for him to have so that he wouldn't be offended. For Michelle, I "made up" a series of oblivious and passive answers until she quit. In both cases, I morally wronged them - I lied to them, but by doing so, I preserved two friendships. The positive outcome for this path far exceeded the negative, so I took it. I applied utilitarian theory, and it worked. Although I hope to never be in a situation like this again, I would do the same thing.

* * * *
My teacher later emailed me saying it was an interesting example.

Robot Desperation

Wed, 01 Jun 2005 04:25:55 GMT

BobtHermit: Exterminate All Rational Thought
ComradeRandal: Make Robot Love
BobtHermit: BobtHermit would like to connect on port 69 to make robot love
ComradeRandal: 69 is firewalled, its gonna be hot
ComradeRandal: are your eady for it?
BobtHermit: BobtHermit would like upload all his love
ComradeRandal: ComradeRandal's heart is password-protected. Please enter password.
BobtHermit: M i c h a e l S a v a g e
ComradeRandal: Access Granted. Commence upload.
ComradeRandal: ...
ComradeRandal: ...
ComradeRandal: ...
ComradeRandal: Upload complete.
BobtHermit: That was beautiful
ComradeRandal: Error: Your love has been corrupted.
ComradeRandal: Please check your emotion files and try again.
ComradeRandal: Session expired. Good bye.
BobtHermit: root
BobtHermit: q u a c k
ComradeRandal: Welcome!
BobtHermit: kill -9 protection
BobtHermit: upload jim\*
ComradeRandal: Warning: You are practicing unsafe hex. Are you sure you want to roceed?
BobtHermit: y
ComradeRandal: ...Uploading
ComradeRandal: ....
ComradeRandal: ...
ComradeRandal: ...
ComradeRandal: ...
ComradeRandal: ...
ComradeRandal: ...
ComradeRandal: ...
ComradeRandal: ...
ComradeRandal: ...
ComradeRandal: ...
ComradeRandal: ...
ComradeRandal: ...
ComradeRandal: ...
ComradeRandal: ...
ComradeRandal: ...
ComradeRandal: ...
ComradeRandal: Segment fault error.
ComradeRandal: [Blue screen.]

It started with a kiss.
How did our Robot Love ever end like this?

Interesting article

Sat, 14 May 2005 09:27:50 GMT

(From the BBC News, Science / Nature)

According to a recent study at Stanford, approximately 85% of viewers of pornography vicariously live out their fantasies, "possessing" one of the two (or sometimes more) actors. Though a minority of viewers voyeuristically watch these adult films, the majority prefer to imagine that they are one of the participants.

Dr. Mary Chu, one of the researchers conducting the study explained the significance of the finding in a recent ASSB conference (American Society of Socio-Biologists), stating "While this seems like a trivial finding, it has far reaching implications regarding male sexuality. A study at MIT showed that peer-to-peer networks have as high as 60% of their bandwidth carrying lesbian adult films. While we can't assume that only males are downloading this, we can safely guess that a good percentage of these downloads - likely much higher than half - are men. We now know that most of these men 'live vicariously' through the actors in the adult films they watch, meaning that most of these viewers are fantasizing about having female bodies, indicating a much higher homosexuality rate than previously guessed, as high as 20% among male internet-pornography users."

Not all experts agree on how high this number is. While Chu estimates 20% of users are latent homosexuals, some researchers have criticized her method for not distinguishing bisexuals and homosexuals. Sociologist Bryant Wilson, an expert in e-culture (or "e-for-empty-culture", as he describes it) commented on the results, saying "this leads us to some startling conclusions. While we were aware that male internet users, particularly in the 17-23 year age group, expressed deep homosexual tendencies in many of their cult pages, we were surprised to discover that the number was this high. My colleagues and I maintained that 'shock sites' such as 'goatse.cx' and 'lemonparty ' clearly were proof that a large latent homosexual population exists in the adolescent internet community. There are many forums where young males refer to those who don't understand the customs of the forum gay, in some cases even viewing gay pornography as a joke. Chu's ridiculously low number of 20% assumes the unreasonable conditions, such as the estimate that 40% of pornography viewers of female. Clearly, she was afraid to publish the real number she would have arrived to under normal circumstances, which should be much closer to 45% of male internet -pornography users."

The jury's still out on the exact number, but clearly a large population of latent homosexuals use the internet. Whether this new information will spur the controversial internet censorship and "Decency for Children" bills has yet to be seen.

(I really have to update this mofo)

Tue, 10 May 2005 03:39:37 GMT

BobtHermit: Man, I'm coughing like a dying man
BobtHermit: Fucking allergies
BobtHermit: first they just attack my sinuses
BobtHermit: but after a while
Susioux says: they attack your soul
BobtHermit: your snot dribbles into your lungs
BobtHermit: and you start to cough little black insects
Susioux says: heh
Susioux says: haha
Susioux says: that made me lol

Opening

Thu, 14 Apr 2005 14:02:17 GMT

Lying on the beach together, they made a lovely couple.
She was wearing a cherry red bikini, he was wearing bright orange shorts.
Her long hair tickled his stomach. His arms were locked beneath her breasts.
"Honey...are you as turned on as me" she whispered.
He kissed her on the neck.
She rolled into him and snaked her arms around his back, one wayward hand finding its way to his bare chest. His hands were doing a little exploration as well - they had just found something soft when she let out a moan.
Her arms withdrew form his torso and found the sleeves of a pink blouse.
His hands let go and dived through a white shirt.
She slipped her legs through a pair of pants.
He closed his eyes and stepped into jeans.
As she buckled her belt, he donned a thick woolen beanie.
Their lips met as he put on a pair of galoshes.
Somehow, a glove found her left hand.
He was reaching for a raincoat...
"Cut."
She slid off of him, and looked up at Randal.
"Good work guys. Let's break for thirty."
Randal turned to me.
"What do you think?"
I scratched my face.
"I think it'll work."
"Me too."
We watched the tracks the actors made in the sand.
Randal turned to me again.
"Jim, want to head over to Frosty's? I here they're eye scream is great."
"Only if you spell it right."
"Fine. 'I hear their ice cream is great.' Happy?"
I slouched and looked away with a frown.
"No." I said in a droopy voice.
Randal laughed.

Home Early

Wed, 06 Apr 2005 05:25:40 GMT

The door swung open.
"Guess who!"
"Angela?" he gasped.
"I'm back!" she sang.
Wearing a grin the same king-size as the bed he was laying on, she swooped in and landed a kiss on his shocked face. A second kiss.
"You're back."
"Mmm yeah. Subway's down for the day."
She tugged his shirt.
"It's a beautiful day. Com'on, get your clothes on. You're taking me to the park."
Oddly, he was dressed already.
"Ok, we'll - go to the park," he stammered.
She made a high pitched squeal and turned around. She skipped four steps towards the door and stopped when she remembered something.
She wheeled about towards the bathroom.
"Hold on honey, I have to go."
"Wait - let's go outside," he said.
She turned the door knob.
"What, is it messy or something?" she giggled.
He was on his feet.
"I want to talk to you outside," he urged.
Angela grinned. "If the seat's up, you're not getting any..."
She pushed the door open.
A dark haired girl stared back at her.

River of Sand

Tue, 22 Mar 2005 02:43:50 GMT

I had returned to a familiar haunt from my childhood - a beach near a home I grew up in. I was taking an evening stroll around seven to relieve myself of a little stress. After a few minutes of walking, I decided not to miss out on a sunset. I flomped down to the sand. Something unusual caught my eye.

I turned to my left and saw two pairs of tracks in the sand - mine, and someone else's. They were exactly parallel, as if we had been marching together. The tracks terminated where I was sitting. Startled, I glanced around to see if I was alone. I was.

I crawled over to the other tracks. The prints were smaller than mine, with a slightly deeper indentation near the toe. I flumped back over on my butt. I turned from the tracks to the sunset and surf. The somnophoric sound didn't quell me.

Agitated, I staggered to my feet. I paced a few feet away from the tracks, and stared at them again. As far as I could see, my tracks were followed by the other. Or maybe I had followed.

"It's a beautiful evening." a pleasant female voice said.

I turned around. A woman, mid twenties was walking towards me. She was fairly tall and thin, very beautiful. An actress?

"Very beautiful." I said towards her.

She closed in. She was wearing a skirt that showed off her legs - I traced them with my eyes to her feet in a set of tracks - parallel to another set of tracks which terminated in front of her. I stood up.

She extended her hand.

"Angela Fugate."

I took it. She felt familiar.

"Jim Garritano."

"Do you live near here, Jim?"

"I live in San Jose...I'm just visiting."

"Where are you staying?"

"I'm renting a house in Beachwood."

"That's where I'm headed now. Care to join me?"

"I have to."

She turned to me with a confused grin.

"I'm sorry?"

Our eyes met.

"I'd love to."

One less door

Fri, 18 Mar 2005 05:00:02 GMT

Kyle, Stewart, and I were walking away from our materials class. We passed through the hall of building 800, emerging to see a trio of pretty girls. They were giggling, the prettiest of the bunch holding a camera taking silly pictures - I had seen her around - a stunning latina; she was the sister of the second most beautiful girl on campus. As we passed them, Camera-Girl looked up at us and said laughed "hey guys, want us to take your picture?!"

Kyle, Stewart, and I averted our eyes from them, and accelerated our pace. The most beautiful girl's eyes followed us - they seared my feigned indifference. I tried to slow us down and to respond to her invitation, but the naked motive for my lingering behind seemed to drive Kyle and Stew to march faster. We would soon be gone.

I knew that I had to act. I kick started my brain and tried to summon forth a hilarious and witty line to impress the girls and to draw my friends to conversation with them.

In a golden baritone, I sang forth a suggestive and witty line.

That didn't happen though.

I cracked my mouth open to vent my soul, but in a reedy voice it sniveled:

"We can't talk to you, you're girls! We only talk to...men!"

I couldn't tell if they found this cute or rude. I had a feeling that if the three of us stopped, turned around, and introduced ourselves to them that we'd have a blast.

We didn't stop.

Turning my back on a world of uncertainty, I turned to Kyle.

"Run."

He nodded.