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Ricochet Modems == Wireless LAN?
dpease writes: "Metricom, purveyor of Ricochet wireless networking, died today. I understand that, sans infrastructure, a Ricochet wireless modem can call another Ricochet modem, and that modem-to-modem range is nearly a mile. Is the hardware this company leaves behind a viable solution for a really cool, really cheap wireless LAN?"
Moron.
A bit outdated, but still useful.
jrbd
* g o a t s e x * g o a t s e x * g o a t s e x * /\ | C ____)/ \ (_____> |_/ t /\| C_____) | (___> / \ s // _/ / \ e /_ _/ | g
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I've been trying to get on all day! Boy, do I feel stupid.
feep feep
I spent most of the winter of 1990 in bed with a bad case of apathy. I went for
14 weeks without ever attending a class, I ate nothing but pasta and
multivitamins and drank only water and scotch (not together). Needless to say,
I developed some interesting health problems (some of which I may detail later)
but the best of them has to have come when I discovered a lump about 2" below
my right shoulder blade and about 2" from my spine. I first noticed it because
it hurt, so straining my arm around, I performed an inspection and found a lump
about the size of a green pea under my skin. I was too apathetic to do anything
about it, so I left it for a while. Two weeks later: the lump has grown to the
size of one hemisphere of a cats-eye shooter marble. I decide to investigate
further. In the bathroom mirror, I looked at it. It is simply a lump, and
upon palpitating it, I find it to have a heavy layer of flesh on top of it, so
that it feels about like the bony protrusion of your fibula (I think that's
the right bone) on your wrist. It appears to be too deep to do anything about
it, but it was annoying the shit out of me and preventing me from sliding into
the depths of total apathy. I knew three things. 1) The lump needed to be
gone. Soon. 2) I wasn't leaving the house. 3) I wasn't paying anyone to do it.
My initial hope was that it might be some form of cancer, and that I would get
to go through chemotherapy, and that I would bleed profusely when I opened the
lump, but no such luck. Well, I'm getting ahead of myself.
First, the lump was very hard to reach. Second, I knew it would hurt,
but then again, I didn't care. So I collected a few implements: box of matches;
coathanger; wire cutters; bottle of alcohol; toilet paper; q-tips; 2 and 1/2
inch Sabatier paring knife; whetstone. I sharpened the paring knife to a razor
hone, since I didn't have a scalpel. I then swabbed the area with alcohol
soaked toilet paper. And chickened out. I just couldn't bring myself to slice,
clumsily I might add, into my own flesh, since my hands and arms were horribly
contorted behind my back and the entire proceedure was taking place in the
bathroom mirror. I sort of scraped the blade of the knife across the surface of
the lump, hoping that it would open up like a ripe zit, but all that was
produced was pain and redness on the top of the lump. Fuck it. I stabbed the
point of the knife into the lump, approaching almost straight on, but from the
bottom a little. Much to my surprise, there was little blood and little pain. I
was delighted; this meant that I could keep working. Unfortunately, there was
no visible drainage other than blood. I was clever, and had anticipated this,
however. Since I couldn't really reach the lump well enough to squeeze it, I
made a little "U" shaped piece of wire out of coathanger. This also provided my
neck with a break, which was getting cramped from being turned over my
shoulder to look in the mirror. I cleaned off the lump with a q-tip and some
toilet paper. Then, I took the wire, and put it over the top and around the
lump and pressing hard against my back, pulled down across the lump.PAYDIRT!
The largest volume of thick, white, cottage-cheese-looking zit-pus I have ever
seen squirted out of the opening. It was so chunky that I could feel it
squirting out in spurts as some large chunk would clear the incision, then
small bits would come out until a large one would clog the opening again. I was
fascinated! I put the first globs of pus on the edge of the sink, and repeated
the process. Much to my pleasure, I was rewarded with a similar volume of pus,
this time mixed with some blood. This too, I put on the edge of the sink for my
roomate to find. I spent the next hour or so draining pus and blood from the
hole in my back, eventually excavating about a shot-glass full of the two
substances, leaving all of it, including the copious amounts of bloody toilet
tissue that I collected, in and on the sink for my roomate. Finally I was left
with a gaping wound in my back, with an interior volume about the size of one
of those 25 cent supermarket gumballs. I swabbed the wound out with alcohol,
prob'ly the most painful part of the whole exercise, and packed it with toilet
tissue. This dressing required replacement about once a day, and the whole mess
eventually became infected, another story in and of itself. My roomate's only
comment on finding the remains of my operation was "Wow. I used to know a guy
who had a chronic problem with those on his face." I never did get to use the
matches.
Georgia Satellites - Keep Your Hands To Yourself
I got a little change in my pocket going jingle lingle ling
Want to call you on the telephone baby I give you a ring
But each time we talk I get the same old thing
Always no huggy no kissy until I get a wedding ring
My honey my baby don't put my love upon no shelf
She said don't give no lines and keep your hands to yourself
Cruel baby baby baby why you want to treat me this way
You know I'm still your lover boy I still feel the same way
That's when she told me a story 'bout free milk and a cow
And she said no huggy no kissy until I get a wedding vow
My honey my baby don't put my love upon no shelf
She said don't hand me no lines and keep your hands to yourself
You see I wanted her real bad and I was about to give in
That's when she started talkin' true love started talkin' about sin
I said honey I'll live with you for the rest of my life
She said no huggy no kissy until you make me your wife
My honey my baby don't put my love on no shelf
She don't hand me no lines and keep your hands to yourself.
Once upon a midnight dreary, While I squatted weak and weary,
Over a clogged and shit-stained toilet bowl.
While I hunkered, nearly fainting, suddenly there came a CRACKING,
From the dingleberry forest called my anus.
A grogan peeked out, foully smelling; Creeping halfway out then stopping,
Stopping, lodged in my anus evermore.
While I pleaded, nearly screaming; Suddenly there came a speaking,
A speaking from the hole below.
Quote the Grogan "Strain some more."
Thus I strained, neck veins bulging; But the Grogan was not budging,
Instead stayed locked in my tortured anus forevermore.
More I strained, hemmorrhoids bleeding; With gases building and eyes receding
Til finally the Grogan broke free and sank.
But left behind was shit adhering, Clinging to my buttcheeks and reeking,
The Grogan's trail was with me forevermore.
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o \ \______// ___ _ (_(__> | o
a \ . C ___) ______ (_(____> | / a
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x | \ |__ \\_________// (__/ | x
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* g o a t s e x * g o a t s e x * g o a t s e x *
i too am beautiful and unique.
Anyone know of drivers for any flavor of linux that will make either of these work? I'm forced to use Windows as my main OS because I can't get linux to recognize these bastards :P
Excellent imagery.
Doubtful.
Can someone do a quick review of Clubbers Guide To Ibiza, Summer 2001? It's not released in the USA yet AFAIK and I can only find bits and pieces of MP3s..
But what I have heard (R Sanches, Another Chance) it's groovy.
Rick? Rick O'Shea? He died?
What a shame. Such an nice guy too. I guess his brother in law, Patty O'Furniture will deliver the eulogy.
But seriously..anyone for a city wide game of Unreal Tournament?
"History doesn't repeat itself, but it does rhyme." Mark Twain
Read the fscking article.
is a bunch of fascist cocksuckers
right on brother
I think I am.