Intermission! (cue cheesy muzak)

Scream of Rage and Frustration: Part Two has been postponed, in favour of giving you, dear readers, more of my SF serial.

Breakfast 'Serial'

I did promise to write more, and I did...but then the dialogue had no bite, and was ill-integrated. At any rate, the hard drive upon which that version was is in a currently non-functional computer. I present to you what I hope is better than that here. This may end up being all of Chapter 1, or I may add some:

OBLIGATORY WARNING: The following contains mature subject matter. It ain't my fault if you're a prude, so use your own discretion. Thank you.

Chapter 1

“No!”

“Why Not?!”

“Because I said so!, because I've never....because....fuck you!”

“So you'll do it, then?”

“Dammit....I”

Alice could have countered the incoming blow. The technique was sloppy, and Julia's posture was ill-suited for staging any attack. Could have. Didn't. In her heart of hearts, she knew it was deserved. Better to take a single physical blow now than face the multitude of potential consequences later. The piezoelectric layers embedded throughout Alice's utility harness, hard shell, and exodermis registered small power spikes as the other girl's fist connected. The unconverted force was enough to cause Alice to stumble backwards a step or two, eliciting little more than a grunt. Alice was momentarily absorbed by the behavior of the dust clouds she had raised, how the light – from the sun, and hundreds of orbital mirrors - played upon the palls of Martian soil in the thin air. What particulates brushed past her flexeramic greaves immediately adhered to the surface. It was fascinating to – OOF!

Julia had taken advantage of Alice's momentary distraction, choosing to tackle her overzealous lover. The pair landed on the ground with an uncomfortable THUD, coming to rest beside one another, covered head-to-toe in Red dust.

“It's...not...”, Julia gasped “...that I don't...want to.....sleep....with you”

“then what....IS....it?” Alice demanded

“You're...leaving....so soon, and...you....know that it would....be...best to wait...see how we...feel when you.....get back”

“How many times....must I say 'I'...'Love You', before you'll....believe...me?”

“It's not a question...of....'I love you's!”

“Then why not let me...bed you? I thought sex was....healthy in relationships?”

“Does what I would feel with your head between my thighs right now tell me if I'll feel the same way about it in a month? Two? A year?”

“What does that matter? Would knowing that change how you feel now?”

“It might!”

“Hypocrite!”

“I beg your pardon!”

“You deny your present desires, on account that they may be momentary, or simply unreal?”

“SO!?”

“it's self-fulfilling. It makes your present love false, regardless of future events or feelings”

I don't want to talk about this anymore!

“Don't do this!”

What?

“Real speech is intimate, don't make this so formal!”

I have already told you what my conditions for intimacy are. If you will not respect them, I hardly see why I should maintain any form of intimate contact or discourse between us.

“Julia, please!”

No

“...”

You and I have duties to which we must attend. I suggest we return to them

“Have it your way”

Addressing me vocally is presumptuous, please d---

“FUCK! Enough already!”

Alice could no longer help but cry. This was not what she had wanted, in any case. Julia had been her bunkmate for the past six months of her internship on the Red Planet, and her first real friend off-station. Julia had been born here, the child of early colonists. The conception had been unlicensed, but the astronauts' genetic potential had been judged sufficient to allow the pregnancy to come to term. Julia was several months' Alice's senior, and had shown her the ropes at the Main Terraform Station where the pair worked. Like all Genzeroes, their task was to transform her assigned corner of the solar system into a paradise for their genetically superior brethren. Her parents had overseen construction of the mammoth, mechanized, and monolithic structures which Alice and Julia now worked, and the latter of the two had embraced that heritage with pride, rising quickly among the 'former techs until she was stationed at the very centre of planetside operations. Alice had been assigned to a similar post for her pedigree – genetic and academic.

Alice and Julia had become fast friends, bonding almost immediately once Alice had moved in. Julia had delighted in showing her new roommate the ropes: she introduced her to all the important people on-site (essentially everyone, as all menial tasks were automated), gave her tours of the facility, and helped her junior adapt to the low gravity. Alice had struggled to repay her enormous debt of gratitude, but could think of little else to give besides stories of life on Earth, and in Mars orbit aboard Demeter. She had cringed at the cliché. In the end, it had mattered little; Storytelling was not Alice's Forte, and Julia had wasted no time in suggesting that she not quit her day job just yet. This had left Alice with only herself to offer...not so much her body, but her mind, her friendship. Alice shared thoughts which had always been private, fears she would have been ashamed to admit to. Julia was initially taken aback by this openness, but in time came to appreciate that Alice was trying to be the best friend she could. The two began to share equally, and their conversations began to extend well into their allocated sleeping hours. That mattered little to the pair, who were all too eager to throw common sense to the wind in the name of friendship.

“Have you ever been in love?” Alice had asked, late one night.

“I had sex with this boy once...it wasn't half-bad” Julia giggled “every inch a Gentwo”

“You're awful!”

“...”

“Ok” Alice conceded “How big was it?”

“Guess”

Alice held her palms about a metre apart, and then burst into fits of giggling

“No, seriously”

“I don't know!”

Julia imitated Alice's gesture, substituting the approximate measurement

“Huh” said Alice “Not bad. Did you love the guy, though? You haven't answered my question”

“No, I didn't love him. Guy was great with words, that's what he was. Gifted with a silver tongue”

“Are those any good for, you know....?”

Julia winked, and nodded ever so slightly

“Have you ever loved, then?” Alice inquired.

“Yes, but it was....it was a long time ago. How about you?”

Alice thought for a second

“Yeah” She said, and stopped at that.

Alice had not slept well at all that night. She wondered if she really would have said “I love you” to Julia, had she continued. She cursed herself for being too afraid, prided herself for avoiding potential heartbreak. It was all too much. How would Julia react? How did Julia really feel about her? For that matter, how did she really feel about Julia? There were too many variables in this equation – equation! Just like me to retreat behind cold logic at a time like this, Alice had thought. Still, the comparison held: Alice had enjoyed almost no other company for months, had enjoyed little pleasure of late, by her own hand, or others', had slept far less than was healthy, worked more than was bearable...how was she supposed to know what she felt? No answer came to comfort her tumultuous mind, as she tossed and turned under the sheets.

An exclamation entered Alice's mind, as if she had read it from a book:

Alice!

What?

“The Pipe, you....Look out!”

In her daydreaming, Alice had neglected the irrigation pipe she was supposedly maintaining. She had picked a particularly bad time to do so. Looking down after Julia's cry of anguish, Alice's optical implants noted that indeed, the pipe had become dangerously pressurized, and was about to burst. This revelation sparked activity in hundreds of nanoscale wires, embedded in Alice's brain, in addition to a multitude of specialized glands in all parts of her body. Time slowed to a crawl, and Alice twisted herself as fast as she could, preparing herself for the inevitable blast. She had just tucked her head down, when it happened.

Forgive me, Alice managed to think

I love you!

Not what I--

Alice and Julia had been working in a proto-farm, tending to genetically modified, lichen-like organisms, which would – over generations – grow, die, and mingle with the local dirt. The end result would be soil, or the nearest equivalent which could be attained. All water in use on Mars' surface had originated in the polar caps. While the eventual goal was to create oceans by melting the caps, the current water demand was met by trucking large chunks of ice between the caps and terraforming stations, to be melted upon arrival. The proto-farms around each station were large enough that very high-pressure pipes and hoses had to be employed for the water to reach to the very edges of the lichen-like growth. Pipe 7 had been erratic of late, and Alice had been coating the antiquated metal tubing with carbon nanofabric. It was that milimetre thick layer which saved her from the worst of the shrapnel. What was left for her to face was a momentary wall of water, which punched her dead-on in the chest. Alice was thrown back, and lost consciousness upon impacting the ground.

***

Note: Chronologically, this is about a decade after the prologue, in case anyone cares to know

Scream of Rage and Frustration: Part One

A Thousand Volts of Fuck You, Programmers!

The day began like any other; I circumnavigated the usual crashes and slow-downs in Windows city...I made it to Office 97 half an hour late. Clippie, my girl Friday, was trying to recover some documents from a case I'd been wrapping up the previous week. She handed me a letter as I walked passed, and a cursory scan revealed it to be a letter from my father. I was intrigued, and promptly opened the letter after sitting down at my desk. In short, he asked why I hadn't decided to find a job closer to his pad in Linuxville...he hated the dingy, tangled roads near my office.

Reaching into my desk, I produced a pen, clipboard, and paper. “Dear Dad,” I began.

At this point, Clippie burst into my office.

“IT LOOKS LIKE YOU'RE WRITING A LETTER!”, she exclaimed “SHALL I GET YOU SOME STATIONARY?”

Why had I not fired the useless bitch on day one was beyond me. “No, thanks” I replied.

“OKAAAAAAAY!!!!11” she exclaimed

“Easy there, cap'n Crunk”, I said

“WHAAAAAAT?”

“never mind”

I opened the Office window, and began to write my letter. I told my father that what kept me here was the games. You could go to any number of Counter-Strike matches there, but the city only ever hosted teams from elsewhere. I promised him that if his city ever got game, I would move out of this hellhole post-haste. I signed the letter, and hoped it would make it to his inbox. That being done, I put my heels up on the desk. After a moment, I removed a hip flask from my trench coat, and “installed” alcohol 120%. The cheap hooch was a flaming river to my gullet (an entirely disconcerting image).

A number of years later, I was visiting my father. While he was at work, I decided to poke around, look for a prospective place to work, should I ever move here. I was feeling a little dry, and found myself at a WINEry. I talked to the cashier for a bit...and decried how I loved this place, this beautiful metropolis...but it had no GAMES, no WILD SIDE, no fun. And the guy whispers to me that this WINEry has made some good money this past year, and is looking to sponsor local players. I ask the guy if it'll work, an' he tells me that there are still a few hitches here and there, but the dealings go smooth on the whole. The guy passed me something called 'Beta', said it was on him. I went back to the pad, found it to be a little rough, but something about the sweet taste had me hooked.

This whole thing had me thinking about a long-open case file I had. One day, a little Roma woman – a gypsy – had come through my door with a little one in tow. The dame had said that her Mother, who had a fortune telling booth in a local park, had gone missing. She said this was a jolly old woman, who was very much in her right mind. I'd been looking for this happy medium ever since. Until now, I'd been perplexed...fortune tellers only say what you want to hear, which is not exactly how you make enemies. Now I saw the case in a new light: maybe Gran had seen the future, and the future was here, in Linuxville! I put on my Fedora, and hit the streets. I was on the case...

Kudos if you get all the terrible jokes and small references in there. I doubt many of you will, because one references a game I played on the Atari ST called “borrowed time”. It was a kickass text adventure (although it had optional pictures, which I always had on) in true Detective-story style. Good times...

Anyhow, I'm sure that the point of the above story has hit you over the head, but here it is straight-up: I'm trying to quit a destructive and expensive habit. No, the OTHER one: Windows.

You can scoff at this all you like, but the facts are the facts: Windows costs money (especially Windows 'arm-and-a leg' – errr, I'm sorry – 'Vista'!) where others are cheap, or even free. Apple sells OSX for as little as $40, I hear. Granted, they make money on (overpriced, oft-proprietary) hardware, and (overrated) Mp3 players and (DRM-shacled) Online music distribution services, but they're APPLE! Steve “messiah 2.0” Jobs could tell people that OSX is the third coming (he was, after all, here first), and set its MSRP at $APPLEION, even though that isn't even a number! But he doesn't, thank whatever God he believes fathered him*. My shots taken at Apple aside, I do have to give them props for resisting the urge to overprice for once. Linux, being free, gets far more credit, because no matter how 1337 you actually have to be to use it, you just saved as much as $200. That's the difference between a 7900GT and an 8800GTS! I don't care if Linux hasn't got DX10 like Vista will, because the GTS is still more powerful, and at the very least can be employed to perform SETI or Folding@home calculations with Unholy speed. At best, WINE (which I am getting to, I promise) will run a great many DirectX 9 games properly, and the 8800 series is going to be twice as fast. I know Gold may disagree, but I'll take more videocard power over another Windows license any day.

So yes, WINE. WINE is Not an Emulator, it is quite possibly the biggest threat to Microsoft which currently exists. Cue the Mac fanatics pointing out that Boot camp lets you run Windows on new Intel-powered macs. Cue me pointing out that such functionality is neither a threat to M$ (if you are so hard-up for Windows that you want to run it on a Mac, you won't just get rid of it and switch, I tell you that much!), nor is it all that economical (see Macs, overpriced hardware of). Wine is both, because it does not require Windows at all (at present, it helps to have some of the DLLs, and the font files are damn handy....but I have a feeling that work-arounds will show up for these dependencies), and works with not only PC hardware, but on OSX (linux core, essentially). The price is right, ladies and gentlemen. No one has any excuse NOT to try WINE. Not a power-user, don't want the fuss of Linux? It's called Ubuntu, and no matter how much Gold will try to tell me that User-friendly Linux is not possible, I'm entirely certain he hasn't used it. The truth of the matter is that Linux is only as scary as you want it to be these days. If you aren't sure, you can even get a little something called a livedisc, which loads the OS into RAM without installing a thing. For the not-technically-inclined among you, that means you don't have to make any permanent changes to your system to try Linux out. Download a .iso of Ubuntu (I'd suggest the alternative Kubuntu...same great user-friendliness, but with an interface widely considered to be superior), and burn yourself a disc already! If you don't know what a .iso file is, you can alternatively order a CD for free (you may need to pay for shipping, but then some places may have Ubuntu CDs lying around for free).

In short, any and all excuses you have used in the past to avoid spooky, spooky Linux are now rendered NULL and VOID. Wine is the keystone, because it blows the very last one away: “I can't run Windows apps, especially games, in Linux”

Now you can...sort of. I have a brand-new FC5 (ok, so it's an out-of-date version, but the install is fresh) install on my main gaming rig, and things are...ok, they suck at the moment. Keep in mind that my dad (the resident Linux guru) has “better things to do”, and the only computer-related stuff I have talent at is assembly, and, um, BASIC. Even then, I'm pretty bad at the latter, Also, at the time of writing, I could not access the internet, so I couldn't find tutorials or patches if I wanted to. My Steam account connected properly under WINE earlier, but I didn't want to wait for a three-hour download then, my DVD burn of all the files necessary for just playing Half-Life 2 has a single corrupted file (1 out of 340!), and only my Dad can mount the NTFS partition where this shit is already installed. So I have no fucking clue if anything will actually work.

At this point, you are probably wondering why I believe this “WINE” thing to be any sort of threat to Microsoft at all. That's where you're wrong. Just because I'm having technical difficulties doesn't mean other people haven't overcome them, or that you would have them at all. Counter-Strike (source? I can't remember) is said to run better on WINE, even, than under Windows!. Ok, so that has nothing to do with the simplicity of getting it to run at all, but it has everything to do with making said process worth it. Now, I am impatient, and I have no grasp of Linux or WINE as of now. If I took one day to read and practice, I bet I would have far fewer problems than I do now. I already know I have made some mistakes in how I have tackled this situation, and when I can tell you how to avoid the pitfalls I fell into, I will post the juicy details right here on my blog! Imagine what a dedicated person with a little less haste, and a lot less ADHD could accomplish with WINE.

Still, you say, Microsoft is pushing Games For Windows, which will make PC gaming easier by far! Why would I want to go back to the days when you had to manually configure everything for a game to run? Why is WINE a threat to a smooth experience? I have already made my thoughts on GFW clear, so I will content myself by posting a condensed version here: if you think that getting a game to run should be the least of your worries when you buy it, you are the very reason that Console gaming exists. When I finally gain the ability to topple Striders with my RPG under Linux/Wine, it will be SO much sweeter than if I just slotted in the disc and it worked like that. Making a game work is a game unto itself when you are a PC player. Disagree if you like, but if you read QC, you may recall a certain conversation comparing unwrapping a CD to undoing a Girl's bra. The message I am sending is the same: the more trouble you had doing it, the more triumph you feel when you succeed.

So why do I say “Fuck you, programmers”, if I am so fond of things being difficult? I'm only fond of the difficulty once I've beaten it! Right now, I can't get dual-head running in FC5, and I'm stuck with regards to WINE gaming (I have installed several games, and not a one wants to function!). I am pissed as fuck, because one actually working would be nice. As in games, the difficulty of getting this stuff working is a precious balance. I have to feel like I'm getting somewhere, have to feel even just a little success now and then to make it worthwhile (I am proud to say that I got 5 or 6 seconds of glorious dual-screen functionality before I decided that I wanted to get EVERYTHING set up properly!)

A day later, and a Gentoo Linux LiveDVD has decided to lock up on me. This hardly bodes well for my adventures into the land of true power-users. I should try again, but I would never remember all the important options that my dad knows to check, but I don't understand the importance of. Eh, maybe I'll give it a shot anyhow.

I'm sorry if none of the above made all that much sense. It was essentially written in a state of extreme frustration between the hours of 1:00 and 4:00 this morning....well, yesterday morning, if you want to get technical.

I Cannot Decide Which Quote To Use!

I saw Clerks the other day. It was ABSOLUTELY FANTASTIC. If you take Nihilism, Existentialism, and some EXTREMELY funny shit, and stir them all together....you get Clerks. I'd write a review, but reviews only work when you have something bad to say about it. Even if Clerks is not perfect (and you can, I'm sure, argue such a point), just go see it...

Right now, I am lamenting that I cannot play HL2: Episode 2, Portal, or TF2. This really bites. I'd ask Valve to hurry up and release already, but quality takes time, you know. Instead, I will ask that they please not push the release date back any more. I should revisit my thoughts on Episodic gaming for tomorrow's post...see how the truth of things compares to the original promises.

Drudgery draws ever closer. This REALLY bites!

Also: I am happy to announce that I am indeed writing more of my Serial. If life will permit, I should have something by the end of the holidays, perhaps before.

If it makes no sense I blame 4AM

Conquista-Porn

....Was a very funny punchline in a Questionable Content comic from a ways back (when Steve and Ellen are either just about to, or just finished getting it on for the first time, If memory serves). But the concept of women as conquest is shitty. I know that there is a certain amount of status conferred upon a guy who has a girlfriend, although I mostly got incredulity when people found out I was dating Star. Thanks a million, guys. However, I do not - to this day - brag about it to gain respect or admiration. If you ask in the interests of frank discussion (as some have), you will get as much of an answer as is required. I reserve the right to ignore your questions if I suspect you have seen this post and want to bug me.

As you may have read on her blog, La Petite Mort has done an excellent job of tackling the sexual side of an issue brought up in last Friday's Citizen, and I could not have said any of it better myself...I don't even know if I could do "on-par". Anyhow, I want to address another side to the same issue which bugs me, namely Sports, and other activities that are supposedly recreational....well, they are recreational, but only when victory is not your primary concern.

I know that any professional sports player will tell you they do it "for the love of the game", but last year's NHL salary drama puts paid to that fallacy. I know people who really work for the love of the job: teachers. Two of the best teachers I have ever had left higher-paying jobs (Lawyer and Banker, no less!) to teach, and did so with great enthusiasm. Even suggest that players take a salary cut, and you're looking at a strike! Like the stars of the movie and music industries, professional sports players are the aristocracy of our world, created to give us mere mortals a glimpse of the Divine. So what does this have to do with sexual double standards and my anger? Read on...

It all begins with the glorification of the victor, the big cheese, the guy who sits down at the end of the day to write those history books. From the bedroom to the classroom to the boardroom, it's always about who is best. And there can only be one; wouldn't you feel cheated if - at the end of the day - Superman and Lex just shook hands, and said "well played, my good man"? We know from experience that the gold metal tastes sweetest (you've seen the Olympians bite 'em, to see if it's the real deal, no?) when you - or your team, I suppose - stand alone at the top of the podium. We know that the vicarious experience is always better when the 'good guys' win unilaterally. Even Yoda said "Do, or do not. There is no 'Try'". You can't escape it, perhaps not in any culture. I know I'm petrified that one day, I'll stop hearing people saying good things about what I write here, that I will cease to publish quality material. Incidentally, should such a day arrive, I want to know. I write to provoke thought, and perhaps entertain. There is no need for a superfluous blog in this vast sea of tubes :P

We have words for people who are indifferent to victory: slacker, underachiever, living-in-your-mom's-basement...the guy from "Pygmalion", who loves Eliza, but hasn't any ambition. A cousin of mine decided a while ago that she didn't want the rat race of a consumer society, and I believe she went to pick fruit as a migrant worker in BC...something to that effect, at any rate. My parents didn't condemn her for it, but I heard in my mother's voice a tone usually reserved for fathers who wonder why their son or daughter sees anything wrong with eating meat. A tone usually reserved for the kind of person who deplored the antics of those 'dirty hippies'. On the other end of the spectrum, we have words for people who value victory too much: Cheaters, scoundrels, hackers, crackers, no-good scum. We demonize these people, and wonder what drives them to these extremes...all the while telling our children that they have to win, they have to want victory more than anything else in the world if they're going to get anywhere in life.

Of course, there are people who will say that the only person you have to beat, the only person who matters in success is you. I wonder how many actually mean it. I know myself that I am not the best, not at anything....and I make peace with myself in that knowledge, eventually. There are a few reactions to defeat, but internally there are only two: Either you are content with your own performance, or you hate yourself. In the latter case, you can pretend that your actual disposition is the former, you can direct the blame externally, you can contemplate seppuku, and so on. It's all eventually forgotten, because life has to go on, but the memory of defeat stays, on some level.

Our sexual attitudes happen here. We are either content to be where we are, in or out of a relationship, or we brag. We feel inadequate, and we make up tales of sexual exploits...in the case of the article, where the writer quotes some boys discussing a conquest (where one boy was the 6th to "have her"....*shudders*)...I wonder if some might even play along, make themselves believe that objectifying women like their peers will make them 'cool'. See exhibit: Grease for related proof. If degrading sex is 'victory', then all the indoctrination and instinct grips us, and bids us to seek it, revel in it, and boast about it to enhance our standing.

(I apologize if this has been hard to follow; my mind is a tangled web on the best of days, and refused to untangle when I decided to write a post on this subject.)

Bringing this to a close are some examples. One is a show I saw on TV recently, about kids in sport, and their parents. These parents, although well-intentioned, are the most pitiless motherfuckers on the planet, forget 'queen bees' and third-world despots. I have never bought the "this hurts me more than it hurts you" sort of argument here. I am aware that kind, fluffy concern is the stuff of affluence and excess, but I get the impression that the parents see the uniforms and the goals, and not their child. There is everything right about supporting a dream, there is EVERYTHING wrong with living it vicariously through your child! A parent can scream a thousand times for their kid to pass the puck, block the punch, stick the landing, follow through, etc. It's easy, because they don't have to do those things. Ever seen someone on a computer, being directed by other people? Ever NOT seen the 'other people' yell? It's always easier when the pressure is on you, but not the heat of the moment, the passion of the here and now.

The kicker was the girl who was not allowed to have a boyfriend, unless she could produce "one good reason" why she should have one. I would hope that she's tried "I want to feel like somebody needs me as more than a player on a team, as more than a number on a jersey", so I wonder if anything at all would wash with her mother. Even if early relationships can lack a certain amount of depth, are singles in their 20s and 30s instantly able to form lasting relationships? I don't think so. It's a mix of experience, good and bad, coupled with a lot of luck, and - very often - good friends. But I digress. If someone is being denied a basic part of their own maturation process (I recall that girls in gymnastics supposedly go through puberty later than average, although if this is the exercise or artificial, or both, I do not know), one has to question: WHY? Why do we munchkin (for want of a better word) our children, leaving them socially underdeveloped? If taking gold in, say, figure skating means few friends, long hours of practice, etc...is that REALLY worth it?

Maybe I just don't understand, or maybe I'm bitter because I was never pushed into anything, never became the champion at anything. Maybe not, though. I have lots of friends, and I am slave to no coach, no psychotic parent. I take ballroom dance lessons most sundays, but they are always fun, and the pressure is manageable. Plus, we get good breaks, and there is coffee and a European import grocery store nearby. Again, I digress. What I was hoping to explore here (and feel very free to tell me if I have done this at all well or not) is one aspect of unhealthiness in our culture. I seem to recall reading a headline where a mother had assaulted a coach or referee for what she considered to be a "bad call" or somesuch. I definitely remember the story where a father inadvertently poisoned several of his daughter's opponents in a sabotage attempt (spiked their gatorade with something unfriendly, I think). These may be isolated incidents, but it is terrible that they happen at all. Something has to be done, because we know that if Og has Shiny Thing, Ug may very well club Og to death to get it. This is what we teach our children, this is what we know ourselves. So the next time a mother brags how soon her child learned to read, or use the toilet, you walk up to them, and you say "That's great...so have you taught HIM/HER to brag about it yet?"

Serial Killer

No, my Sci-Fi story isn't dead, but I haven't taken the time to properly plan and write out a chapter yet, so I apologize. With many untold hours of vacation before me, I hope to devote substantial time to the project. Once I have momentum, it should be a little easier with each passing chapter. At the moment, I'm trying to find something to HAPPEN in the story.

Movin' On

I have it on several trusted authorities that salvaging my mostly-failed relationship with Star would be a waste of time and energy. After late last week, I am inclined to agree. To some extent, the enigmatic nature of woman is a pleasurable torment for us guys. An extent which I think Star has long exceeded. I can understand issues, I can understand that it is not ever easy to deal with them...but I am not therapy, I am not a punching bag, and I am not going to be your plaything!

Will I look for someone new? I don't know yet. I'd like to feel wanted again. I think I'll have to wait, despite what I may want. A few friends have recently found solace in others, and I don't want this to be a "me too" thing. Besides, going on the rebound is never a great pretense to be dating. Time will tell.

"I don't care how 'dope' his ride is!"

Will These Hands Never Be Clean?

As a society, we have blood on our hands. There are 5 women dead in Ipswitch, and there is one dead in Gatineau. These deaths come barely a week apart, and the victims are prostitutes, or in the case of Gatineau's murder, a suspected prostitute (her family denies the claim). With BC's Pickton case now coming to trial (I believe they have divided the victims into separate trials, there are so many), there are calls from Sex workers for better legislation in Canada, and elsewhere. It is damn near time the government smartened up on this score, in my opinion. If anyone is under the illusion that restrictive laws will make sex as a commodity disappear, let the record show that as an institution, prostitution is older than democracy. Like death, taxes, and really stupid people, prostitution is an inevitability.

From an economic point of view, the sex trade exists to satisfy a demand (as do all industries). And let's face it: the demand for sexual gratification is going nowhere fast. What is so offensive about prostitution? Is there a line somewhere that I am not seeing? Look at the tags on your shoes, and tell me that the conditions under which the poor Cambodians, or Vietnamese who made those shoes are any better than the streets of a wealthy nation. I dare you! Unless slaves or children are involved, why shouldn't a person be allowed to sell their body as they see fit? It is not a happy world where one may be forced to make such a decision to feed themselves, but would you rather these people starve? Before you raise the inevitable “prostitution degrades women” argument, consider that if proper legislation were put in place, the women involved could ensure their own terms and safety far better than they can presently.

The same problem exists with drugs: instead of saving bundles of money by simply promoting caution, safety, and responsibility, governments make a poorly informed decision to try and remove the offensive practices altogether. This creates the opportunity for lucrative black markets, a source of income for organized crime. Considering the cost of paying policemen, bringing offenders to trial, and paying for their incarceration, is it really cheaper to fight a war against drugs? No! By waging this war, we indirectly fund drive-by shootings, and gang wars. Of course, politicians are able to sweep these inconvenient facts under the rug come election day. Similarly, instead of helping pimps and gangs, by making them the only perceived recourse to some, allowing sex workers to set their own standards would take money away from the perpetrators of evil.

I do not buy sex, nor do I use drugs, but there will always be a demand for both. If we are willing to condemn hundreds to die by gang shooting, or serial murder, because we believe that making either available is 'Wrong', what does that say about us as a society? That we allow ethical conjecture to blind us to the logical truth? As a civilization which prides itself on being rational and enlightened, that seems a tad contradictory. Holland gets props here, because they've already realized the truth in what I am saying to you now. HUP HOLLAND!

Loosing Battle

A letter writer to the Citizen expressed contentment that the Church has refused to change with the times, saying that materialistic culture should be opposed by said institution. Of course, it becomes readily evident that I should not be angry at this writer's presumption that my distance from the church weighs upon my soul. Why? Because she has no mind of her own. “When the Catholic Church speaks”, she says “It is speaking truth”. I am sorry if this sounds heartless, but I only regard the very religious as true human beings if they are capable of entertaining dissent and discussion. If they cannot, or will not, how are they different from common herd animals? In fact, I would argue lower, since they have the capacity for rational inquiry, but choose to squander it. Luckily, recent campaigns by churches to spread the message that the church cares for your soul, and can help you find meaning, yada, yada...have me convinced that if the church is indeed fighting against current values, it is loosing ground that it desperately wants to hold.

If the message of love and tolerance from religion cannot be separated from the potent and arbitrary hate which is also part of Dogma, then I could not be happier about this. The world could very well be a better place when goodness comes from the desire to be good, not the need to go to heaven; When you love your neighbour, man or woman, straight, gay, bi, trans, white, black, or any shade in-between; when you question what you are told; when robes, crosses, and funny hats don't signify ultimate authority; when Al-Qaeda and its ilk are no more; when sex can be for fun, and masturbation isn't sinful. I could go on, but I think the existing list will suffice. Am I being too optimistic? Would a secular society fill itself with unguided abuse? If that is the price of being free from abuse disguised as the saving of souls, so be it. Also, our primate friends, Binobos, are known to be very peaceful (and bisexual, but I digress), and I doubt they have religion. By contrast, humans and chimpanzees are violent by nature. I know I am in danger of being repetitious in my denouncement of the church, but in the light of calls for social progress, it seemed fitting to throw a little vitriol towards the largest inhibitor thereof.

P'Tagh Revisited

Another letter writer praised Stéphane Dion as being open-minded, for his willingness to question our mission in Afghanistan. I've got news for this guy: It's not called open-mindedness, it's called demagoguery. Stéphane Dion, now leading the opposition wants to take every opportunity to gain votes, and that means making the Conservatives look bad. So what if it means taking a contradictory position to pre-defeat Liberals? People are quick to forget, and equally expedient in claiming that the man or woman who wants our troops out of harm's way is the champion of the people. This is all politics, and all bullshit. But then, what do you expect from these dry, conniving types? If sending you to your certain death for whatever reason would put either of these two ahead even 1% in the polls, they'd do it, and they would sleep well that night. Read 'The Prince' by Machiavelli sometime, if you haven't already. Then see just how much you trust people in power...

Only a little bit of work left to do before the holidays. Hopefully tonight will see the end of it, as I would like some free time to write a little more of my serial.

Braaaiiiiinnnnnssssssss.........

ZOMG Survival Guide

I received 'The Zombie Survival Guide' as a most excellent Christmas present from Gold today. If indeed the dead will one day walk the Earth, it is good to know that I will have the necessary knowledge to survive. You might be tempted to assume that a book - such as this one - filed under 'humour' would be unreliable at best. Well, insofar as Zombies are concerned, I cannot vouch for the accuracy of the information, but the tactics and survival methods discussed within are solid stuff, which is why this book is worth two ordinary survival guides: How many wilderness survival guides have detailed analyses of weaponry, both melée and ranged? Of course, fighting things which are not zombies requires vastly different tactics, but thanks to Gold, I have that covered with 'How to Survive a Robot Uprising'. For a complete set, though, someone needs to write a How-To on survival in warzones, because both of the volumes I currently own are pertinent only to non-human hostiles. I'm sure any military, secret service, or even terrorist training manual (the latter having the creepy, fanatical pages removed, in the interests of efficiency) would work just fine. You might be worried that these manuals are very good at instructing a person on how to kill, maim, and destroy the living, undead, and robotic alike. What you should be worried about is any situation where it would be necessary to do so.

Stéphane Dion is a P'Tagh

There can be no 'Honourable' withdrawal from Afghanistan for Canada. It's bad enough that Gilles Duceppe wants the current mission to refocus on re-construction over combat, now the Liberals are jumping on the bandwagon. Let it please the court that it was a previous Liberal government which sent Canadian soldiers to Afghanistan in the first place. Doubting the current mission is all well and good, but what makes these politicians think that the Taliban will just magically disappear if we conveniently decide to put our troops out of harm's way? I don't buy this as anything but concern for these politicians' own futures.

Afghanistan does not have to be another Iraq, we can be smarter than the US was. That will require a few things which are not currently in place. These are:

1) Defined goals (ie. Eliminate or severely reduce the Taliban's capacity to wage war upon the people of Afghanistan, Secure rights for citizens, establish self-sufficient nations/tribes/etc.)

2) A timeframe and predicted budget for said goals, in terms of money and lives.

3) A comparison of the costs to our government with the value of gains by the Afghanis. These should be very close together, if at all possible (of course, freedom is hard to put a number to, so this may be meaningless)

4) A strategy for eventually leaving the country in a state where it may function as a prosperous, or potentially prosperous country.

5) Strategies to eliminate or reduce Civilian Casualties.

The above are not listed in specific order of priority.

Without any of these, the current mission is doomed to become meaningless, which is something Canada cannot afford. We complain that Canadian troops are questioned in our own war museum (if you have read the Citizen of late, there has been a small shitstorm on the issue), but when they place their lives on the line for a cause that is relatively good and just, few speak up to defend what we are doing. Suppose we had asked for our troops to be pulled out of the Holland liberation effort, back in WWII. Today, the graves of Canadian soldiers are maintained by Dutch school children. The Tulip Festival in Ottawa is a yearly reminder of their gratitude to those who gave their lives that Holland might be free. That 60 years (and counting) of gratitude is a powerful reminder of how much freedom means to people. If Canadians want to be seen as a major player in the Global arena, what better way to do it than be seen as a generous, and noble country? What better way to do it than to give to others the same freedom we wish for ourselves?

Stéphane Dion, you are a P'tagh.

Old-School

Due to time being short, and writing on the computer being not entirely my style (I have a bizarre half-on-paper-then-finish-on-computer thing going most of the time), I think I'll serialize the sci-fi story I am writing, most likely on a weekly basis. This means I might actually have time to write properly sized chapters, and carry on an actual plot, rather than whatever happens to jump into my head.

I kinda like the idea of doing serialized writing. It seemed to work for...was it Dickens?

I think so.

Aright, that's all for now. Tune in sometime next week for the thrilling first real chapter of Alice's saga....and sooner for all the wack ramblings you know and love.