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Topics - Richter

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Apple Talk / ITT: Books that are cause for firing
« on: September 02, 2012, 12:16:29 am »
Dune, Frank Herbert:  Employees reading this may develop messianic delusions, and attempt to cultivate loyalty based on charismatic personality and noble acts.  Expectation of leaders to model desired behavior may emerge.  Fanaticism may develop in weaker personalities.  Grandiose statements about environment, resource dependence, or the value of knives may emerge.  Have security or law enforcement on hand for termination proceedings, expect drastic responses and cries of "MUAD'IB"

Add books, reasons, etc, as you see fit.  Go!

Literate Chaotic / About Fred...
« on: August 21, 2012, 02:41:56 am »
Fred never had many visitors; most of his life, in fact, was alone.  Not that he was a hermit.  He was hardly positioned by choice far from settlement or human habitation.  He lived in a city.

Not a crowded urban stain, mind you, but a beautiful city.  Idyllically proportioned sidewalks and streets.  Buildings laid out thoughtfully with trees for shade and fine architecture.  Perfectly flat on regular terrain as only a city of the plains could be.  Four stories seemed absurdly tall, there.  Why go up, when it was just as easy to go out?  There was decency, and certain understood presence to being there.  No man was greater than another.  Nothing as officious or macho as respect ran the place, but rather a subdued, familiar love. It was truly a city of conscience.

Pity how empty it was.

 Not ever a fallen branch or trashcan out of place, (this was no ghost town or relic) just no one was there.  Well, that is a lie.  Very FEW people anyways.

Fred saw most of them.  Being one of few people in town he was a sort of living event.  Soft spoken and genial, he’d receive them in his oddly linear house.  A few minutes of pleasant, prosaic conversation and they would move on.  His most frequent visitor was his friend the speedy delivery man.  Not that they ever stopped to talk over lunch more than once or twice.  Not that they ever spent an evening talking over beers like most small city buddies, or over wine like two small-town intelligencia.  Much as the delivery man was compelled by his work to move on, Fred was compelled to stay.  His was to dwell, to occupy, to be neighborly, but brief.

Most of the time he was alone in his house.  Well, we’ve already said that, of course.  We’ve told you why he was alone too, but we haven’t told you how.

Not much mystery to being alone, you say?  Every act has its art, its refinements, and those bent towards its artful enactment.  No matter how miniscule or obscure.

Fred was a master of being alone.

He employed the same rhythm.  Routines and cycles like verses in a song, or stations of the cross.  Wavelengths and patterns that might take a day, a week, a year each to complete.  Each with mindfulness and care.  There was no deviation over time to his rhythm, every exploration and change was balanced piously with a repetition of the base pattern, the first verse.  A drum circle jamming back to the beat it began on.  A tea ceremony carried out mostly for one.

He entered his house every morning.  (But where DID he sleep?)

He meditated on his place in the dwelling.  How he held himself in his householding.

He changed from street shoes into indoors shoes.  How his perambulation put him in mind of his keeping house.

He donned his sweater.  Cassock and stole for his vigil, a warm garment to warmly greet those who may come.


A good deal of time he spent on a long running thought experiment.  A make believe land of characters, each cautiously endowed with a virtue and a flaw.  No villains, no evil, just an aspect of humanity carefully excised and given an embodiment.  Characters matched and tested against circumstance and against themselves.  A man of conscience, Fred did this not to hate them, or discover how to deal with them.  He did this to lay bare the things he hated in humanity and role them out until he could accept them, until he could love them.

Apple Talk / Things you HATE
« on: May 01, 2012, 02:53:45 am »
When you try to tip to one side at a red light to cut a fart, but it turns green before you've let it all fly.

People with loud children at the grocery store.


Apple Talk / Spagging with Cram
« on: April 25, 2012, 03:48:02 am »
So I ran into Cramulus this weekend.  We had some laughs. LARP’ed like assholes, laid down some tracks with the rest of the “Worst boy band made up of grown ass men” group, and bounced from one tremendous adventure to another until it was time to go.  Says hi, and that he misses you spags.  Not a time to press him about posting though.  Suffice it to say that one day, when we all remember the true spirit of Moosemass he’ll be back to save us from taint waxing.

I saw Payne on Facebook.  He’d just finished yelling them into re-activiating his account after he resurrected, again.  He wouldn’t chat long, though.  He had about 10 print pages worth of white-trash poetry and ghetto shrine picture posting to delete, and was none too happy about it.  Hell, who WOULDN’T be pissed off after reading “May your star shine like that brightest beautiful in the sky, we will always love you….” for the 9th time in a row.

TGRR?  Well, I’m glad you asked.  He is definitely MIA.  Last I heard he had a gig.  Nothing like the bad old days he writes about, of course, but a more peaceful, dignified sort of gig.  The sort where you preach THE WORD to some town in “North of the border @##$”.  The Good Reverend, however, will NEVER have a congregation like he deserves.  No, instead he got a small minded group of bigots, bullies, and small time thieves.  The last straw was them watering down his “whiskey flavored spirit product” on Saturday night.  He delivered a speech so HOLY the next morning that it blew the walls right off the church.  The congregation?  Stone dead.  Well, at least none of them would admit to being alive.  A shaming of that caliber followed up by a thunderstrike of a fart will make a person feel like that, I’d gather.  The Good Revered was nowhere to be found, translated out of there.  We can only presume that Enabler drove by in a ’57 caddy with Cain in the back sometime immediately after and extracted him from the scene.  They’re still out there now, living some kind of horrible folk legend across the post-American landscape.

Got a postcard form Hawk too.  “Be seeing you”, on the back of a fantastic picture of a sunset, him and the Mrs., driving off into it.  You never want to see a good pirate die, I guess.  Never hear their eulogy, see the obit, attend the service, or visit the graveside.  You want to see them sail away, so that even if it’s only in your mind they’re still out cruising somewhere.

ME?  Well, that’s the boring part of the story.  I’m just done with a lot of it all for now, you see.  The world isn’t ending fast enough for my liking.  Trying to push it that way is just going to be toppling a pyramid build on a base of happy fools flushing themselves through Walmart, anesthetizing themselves with shit beer and televised sports.  Saving the world would just be upholding their status quo too, protecting everything dear to a couple billion @#$% that’d just sick the paparazzi on you for it.   

Apple Talk / Riddle me this PD...
« on: April 04, 2012, 12:59:12 am »
Job Interview question time.

IF you were a kind of bread, what kind would you be.  And WHY?

Apple Talk / Puns Noir
« on: March 14, 2012, 02:06:58 am »
It was a dark night in the city.  Fog had crept up the bay and was giving everything that odd sort of chill, the kind that you want to go on, despite also wanting to be home and warm.  A nostalgic sort of chill.

I was taking a break from that sentimental mist.  Inside a small eatery lit like sundown I was sipping through an expensive tea latte.  Not that I could afford it, but if I was reduced to paying for ambiance, I may as well stew in it a bit.  Lousy place didn't have a liquor license, so don't even mention a scotch neet to me. 

In the middle of my reverie, pondering finding out what a "biscotti" actually was, she walked in.  The last woman on this planet I wanted to see, but somehow the one I knew would find me here. 

The Panera Broad.

Techmology and Scientism / KAI! Look at this dirty hippy!
« on: March 08, 2012, 01:21:57 am »

So I sort of kid.
There are several videos around about him and his work learning/educating about botany.  Real emphasis on awareness and biodiversity.  Interesting to me, what's your take?

Apple Talk / Hey YOU!
« on: February 20, 2012, 06:01:16 pm »
Yes, yOU!  With the genitals!  What the fuck are you doing, out without a permit for those things? 

Don't you know possession IS intent now?

Concealed too!  Just walking around in the face of the sun packing shit like that, hardly decent is it?  No one with the correct papers would wager like that either. 

Who know what you're up to with those things.  We've already called the police so just put those things on the pavement, nice and easy.  Maybe the won't tazer you THAT MUCH when they get here.  You're definitely headed for the impound and the lockup though.  IF they're nice I bet they'll even send all of you to the same one.  Wow, it would suck to have the judge as you if those bits in the jar of the formaldehyde were yours, and if you were out in public with them on the day in question.  Whichever way you plea to that, you've really already lost.

Apple Talk / Luna... REALLY?!?!
« on: February 17, 2012, 04:34:12 am »
How could you?  At some point you have to realize they're ONLY the Tea Party.

It was out of order from the get go, using the ice scraper like that was obscene, and "For the glory of Satan" is NO justification.  In fact that makes it worse.

I can still hear Suu and EoC's callous laughter in my mind...

Apple Talk / The Dimocritan Sylabus
« on: February 05, 2012, 03:49:40 pm »
Whenever anyone went to meet the master, their first words were often all the same.  "I thought you'd be taller."
The master Dimocritus would then kick them firmly upon the shin.  As the petitioner was writhing in pain he would posit: 
"What NOW punk?"  IT should be noted that the master also owned the only pair of steel toed converse sneaker made, ever.

The master never met people in a temple or dwelling.  He had no use for such places.  He met them in the forum, or preferably in a public house. 

When asked for wisdom the master told all annoying petitioners "Don't shit where you shit."  By this method wre the annoying ones hauled off for crapping the sidewalks.

Some petitioners approached the master fawning over his band.  Others approached slandering it.  BOth hoped to spurn greater interaction with their foul or fair words.  Both were doomed to fail.

Apple Talk / A reading from the Book of Smack
« on: January 10, 2012, 03:35:40 am »
::argh::  ::hack cough::

What in the fuck hell do you all think you're up to?  Nancing about the board, whining for content, but denouncing contributions as Facebook esque?  We've all posted out "Status" and wondered exactly where the "Like" button went.  Well, we're not on the Fischer Price internet anymore are we?  We are back on the old testament shit.  Where the HTML is still typed by hand because we can't be arsed to hover over the little buttons up top.  Back before Buddy Xtmlstian showed up with the idea that the Interbutt can love EVERYONE.  It still hates us all. 

Does your head-meat do more than tweet?  Demonstrate. 

For fucksake if someone's post is shite, SOUND OFF.  Like we, of all people are afraid we might offend someone
?  Or is lobbing passive aggressive remarks just our speed now?  Hell, I've tossed "snap n' crack", Like I've forgotten I used to play with quarter sticks of verbal TNT.  Rapier wit is fine for fops, but remember when we acted with the tact of a conversational hollowpoint?


Apple Talk / Dok.... just DAMNIT.
« on: January 09, 2012, 03:28:06 am »
So I saw you called.  Didn't mean to miss you for the second time in a row.  Practice was in full swing, lots of people, and a new husband/wife pair getting into heavy armor for the first time.  Nice folks.  Crowd of parents, family, kids too.  Luna was playing safety marshal, and had to gaff a few fighters away from them. I get back home, snarf down some cheese snacks and tabouleh, and kicking around the Internets gets me onto a new crop of urban legends.  Not that a lady with a roach growing out of her tongue wasn't cringe worthy enough, but then I came across a re-tooling of your "baby doll" story. a few things got me about this.  It was about an American baby kidnapped, and mom finds it at the border, and it's like the end of an episode of "Extreme Makeover".  American babies have more impact apparently.  The other thing is they made it an urban legend.  Urban legends are fine, but most people tell them, get a spooky feeling, but can go on there day believing it's fake.  The sort of thing the kept the X-Files in production. 

Thanks to you Dok, I know better.  It makes Mad Max, or "The Road" seem almost mundane.  (Desolation being a perfectly good excuse to go cannibal psycho, after all.)  The things people do to bend themselves around restrictions other people have put in place, while things are supposedly within one standard deviation of "civilization", are weirder still.  Hell, the ones worth watching out for are using it as cover for fucksake.

I'm going to go back to dwelling on the morality of my buddy's war story about the ANCOP and the "Accidentally" live grenade.  That was stone freak behavior with a heart of gold behind it. 

Apple Talk / Star Trek 11: What happened to Wesley Crusher
« on: January 06, 2012, 11:17:58 pm »
Wesley lives in fanfiction now.  The eternal space cadet, he bounced from adventure to adventure, full of good spirit and energy.  Until he hit 27.  Star Fleet was falling on hard times by then.  It seems man had gone everywhere where no man had gone before.  Also, the funny colored, squiggly headed aliens were all either in line with the Federation plan, and happily screwing the latest uber-chin lead actor, or were safely annihilated by ray-gun fire and antimatter warheads.

Wesley was sitting in the pilot’s chair, beaming as usual, when the papers came through telling him that his commission was up, and Starfleet would not require his service any longer.  He refused to stop beaming.  It must be a joke, right?  Starfleet would NEVER get rid of him.

Well, yes, they would, like the admiralty told him later.  See, with the budget cuts they had people to preserve.  The admiralty, or course, was not going to shrink one bit.  Captains couldn’t go, of course.  Careening around known space with untold megatons of destructive power, it just wasn’t SMART to give them the axe.  That damned old James T. Kirk was still out there too.  He was a loose cannon at the best of times, so best to just let him keep going on, no use risking him going rouge.  Janeway probably got the best out of it.  Her little “Lost in space” grift kept her crew in salary for seven years while they faked records of horrible alien encounters.  (It turns out they parked the ship on the far side of Risa, and spent the whole time drunk on the beach.  She was promoted to admiral just for having the gall and the smarts to pull it off.)  Then there were senior commissioned officers with families to support too, but this was only, as always a secondary concern.

Everyone else who could be spared, and a few who couldn’t, were out.  Scotty was among them. Like so many hard working, highly specialized warp-drive  experts, he was expensive to employ.  He had seniority over most of the fleet too, but was still just a wrench flipper in the engine core.  Expendable.  A recruit with a hydrospanner and a flowchart could fix MOST of the common issues, and wouldn’t have to be paid like he had a doctorate in warp field theory.  (Never you mind the "safety incident" ratios increasing, or the replies of “Uh... that would violate procedure” to Kirk requesting more power.)

So young space cadet Crusher was out of a job.  Unemployable too, as he soon found out.  Well meaning and energetic honesty do not get one far.  He tanked out of sales rep. gigs and spots selling Mini Sportshuttles.  Yeah, honesty goes over WELL in those professions.  He eventually landed doing data entry in a cubicle farm.  He still dreamed of his glory days blasting through the stars, and never really found much to replace it.  He took up writing, and spent every night on a bulletin board retconning his own departure form Starfleet.  Him and Sisko, both cooking up self pleasing fictions about their dues ex machina exit from a galaxy that no longer wanted them, and into a world of wondrous adventure where they had destiny, and purpose, above all respected and appreciated for who they were, not where they ended up on the wrong level of the wrong totem pole. 

Techmology and Scientism / NDE, Security Assessment, and "Lock sport"
« on: December 29, 2011, 11:52:32 pm »
SO the last few weeks I've been completely geeking out over the variant euphemistic approaches to picking locks.

It's an idea I've always been into, I've read the MIT guide to lockpicking, and didn't use the knowledge for much.  I got into it more when ordering xmas gifts, and realized a set of picks would be ideal for a buddy with a liking for covert devices and Tom Clancy novels.  Might as well grab myself a set too...  One hour on youtube provided the basics, and I was off.

Am I out to break and enter?  No.  I do not want to steal anything.  In reality picking is only useful in a few specific cases too, and is not an instant pass into everything. 
Am I out to be MR. Hero every time someone looses a key?  Nope.  Silly, and way too easy to fuck up a lock you aren't familiar with.  I will be MR. Hero with a AAA card to call unlocking service instead.
Am I out to carry picks everywhere and unlock everything?  Fuck no, it could be my ass.  Laws vary, and they're unusual items for anyone to have as every day carry stuff regardless. 

So why?  It's fun.  Locks are great puzzles, made to restrict human access. IRL hacking, basically  Certainly a rouge - esque thrill to it as well.  There's also the practical benefit of learning about and assessing security for your own sake.   Like any esoteric hobby, it's fun to discuss, teach, and practice with folks over drinks or food. 
Does anyone else here have similar interest?

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