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The Battle in 64-bit Land, 2003 and Beyond
An anonymous reader writes "Paul DeMone has an excellent article up at Real World Technologies on the future of 64bit computing. Find out where MIPS, HP, Intel, AMD, Sun, Fujitsu, and IBM are headed."
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What happens is....
Paul looked at himself in the mirror. Having just gotten out of the shower, his skin was warm and flushed. He took in the beginnings of the changes his late puberty was presenting. A soft brush of pubic hair around his boyish cock and balls put a smile on his face. There wouldn't be anymore teasing in the locker room now, Paul though. I'm becoming a real man these days.
In two days, Paul would be 18. He would be leaving for basic training in Paris Island. The thought of imminent freedom thrilled Paul. He would be getting away from his stepfather and that bitch of his mother forever. No more long nights of drunken abuse verbal and otherwise from his loving family. Just thank God there weren't any other brothers or sisters to endure the torments he had.
Paul never liked to dwell on those nights. Waiting in his bed at night in terror of when his drunk step father would break through his door reeking of cheap booze and slobbering all over him, telling him lies about how he was his sweat little boy and crap like that, while all the while playing with his nuts and trying to get one of his fat fingers up his ass.
Having his stepfather's cock crammed up his teenage butt had become something of a regular thing for Paul since he was 13.
But not tonight, thought Paul. He was going into the city tonight with his marine recruiter, SSG Thomas. Paul liked his recruiter. He was athletic in a way that Paul had always admired. He was also dark haired, and from what Paul had been able to tell, had quite the hairy chest.
He dressed conservatively, in khakis and a white shirt, careful to not wrinkle his clothing. SSG Thomas had always stressed the necessity of a Marine looking his best at all times. Paul figured that his transformation into a Marine might as well begin before he left for boot camp. He carefully combed his wet hair, smiled into the mirror, then headed for the door.
On the way out, Paul's mother slurred an angry epitath at him, but he gave it no thought. SSG Thomas was waiting for him where he said he would be, right in front of the Baptist church.
"Get in recruit"
"Yes Sir"
Paul got into the Government sedan that the recruiters all shared, and they headed into Houston. It took a little over 20 minutes but soon, the car was plying the crowded night streets of downtown Houston. There was little conversation, but when the car pulled up to the hotel that Paul would be staying at, apprehension got the better of him, and he asked SSG Thomas if he would mind going in with him to help him register into the motel. SSG Thomas laughed.
"First time away from home, aint it boy."
"Yes Sir. I just don't want folks to laugh at me if I make a mistake or something."
"I understand, recruit. One thing you'll learn about the Corp, there's always someone willing to help you out boy."
The area that the motel was located wasn't the best either. Dark streets filled with old crumbling warehouses surrounded the motel. Old neon signs blazed in the night promising everything from liquor and cigarettes to salvation. Paul thought it an odd place for a church. But, he thought, this wasn't Elm Wood. This was Houston, the big city.
SSG Thomas escorted Paul into the motel office, and quickly accomplished getting the room that Paul would stay in until his departure date at the MEPS center the following Monday. Paul picked up the key, and looked at SSG Thomas with a kind of pleading. The Marine got the message, and told Paul he would help him get settled into his room. Paul was very thankful. To be honest, he was somewhat terrified of being alone and on his own. The newness of his freedom was starting to make him uneasy, a feeling he thought would be quashed by SSG Thomas' continued presence.
The room was very plain. Double bed, night stand, dresser and a small TV. The room did have its own bathroom and Paul was surprised to see that it was actually very clean. Paul managed to relax a little bit after looking around.
Seeing that his charge was going to do just fine, SSG Thomas bid good night leaving Paul alone in his room. It was only 830 pm, but Paul was tired and besides, didn't they say that boot camp was going to kick his ass?? Paul got undressed and got under the covers and turned on the TV. While he was flipping through the channels, he came across his favorite Friday night show, and settled in. By 10, Paul found that he really wasn't all the tired anymore. The sounds of the city could be heard through the thin walls. Paul also decided that he was a little hungry. Surely, there was somewhere he could get something to eat that would be close to the motel. Paul got redressed and got some money out of his wallet, put it in his pocket and returned his wallet to the drawer. Better to keep it safe that way. Remembering what the clerk in the office had said, Paul used his key to double lock the door after closing it, and headed out into the night in search of something to eat.
A block from the motel, Paul noticed that there were quite a lot of folks out. Mostly men, and mostly dressed in dark clothes and leather jackets. They seemed to be going into a building down the street with no signs on it. As Paul got to the door, there was just a simple painted sign on the door. "The Loading Dock" What the hell, Paul thought, maybe not a real marine yet, he still felt the bravado and literally willed himself through the door. There was a long hallway, the walls were painted black, and it smelled like smoke. There was also another odor, but Paul couldn't place it. As he came to the end of the hall, the place opened up into a dark room with tables, and a bar against the far wall with a big mirror behind it. There was a pool table in the far corner lit by a single light. The place was also filled with men. Men of all ages, some looked almost as young as Paul, and some, older than his stepfather. The thing the all had in common though, was that when Paul walked into the room, to a man, they all stopped what they were doing, and looked at him. Not really realizing what had just happened, Paul walked purposely to the bar. There were a lot of guys there all vying for the attention of the bartender. Paul found an empty stool to sit on, and waited for the bartender to get to him.
SSG Thomas had been in the john when Paul had walked in, but when he walked back out into the main room of the bar, he was floored. There was his new recruit at the bar, dressed like he was going to church. The Loading Dock had a reputation in Houston as a place you went only if you were serious about the BDSM world. SSG Thomas had the streak in him, that was for sure. And by God, if that little snot nosed little pussy boy hadn't found his way here? SSG Thomas smiled evilly. This was going to be a very interesting night.
Paul found it strange that the guy behind the bar was dressed only in a pair of what looked like leather shorts and some boots. It was warm in the bar, and Paul could see sweat on the bartenders smooth body. He didn't really look much older than Paul. Paul also noticed that there was a locked chain around the guy's neck, like a dog collar or something.
"What can I get for you?" said the bartender
"Can I get a beer?" "PBR if you have it." Said Paul.
"You got an ID on you boy?"
A look of panic crossed Paul's face. This was the first time Paul had been in a bar, and he knew that the drinking age was 18, but he had left his ID in his wallet back at the motel.
"Uh, no, I left it at the Motel place I'm staying at."
"Look boy, if you aint got an ID, you're gonna have to prove you're old enough. Got any ideas boy?"
Paul had no idea. He just sat there on the stool with the kind of deer in the headlights look.
The only thing he could think of to say was, "I'm going into the Marines on Monday."
A couple of heads down the bar turned at that. The bartender smiled at that, and said, "No sweat Jarhead. One PBR coming up."
The wave or relief swept over Paul as the bartender left to get him his beer. Paul quickly pulled out some money from his pocket to pay the man with when he returned with the beer.
"Put your money away boy, its been taken care of."
"What do you mean?" asked Paul, not sure of who had said that, but turning around to see a really big man with muscles like a football player behind him. He was shirtless, and the definition of his chest and abs was like those statues Paul had seen in art class. The man was probably in his late 30s, and for some reason, Paul's dick reacted in a way it never had. Looking up into the man's face, Paul's cock stiffened. Embarrassed, Paul tried to cover his now tenting Dickies with his hand. The big man slapped his hand away though.
"A boy should always show he's ready for a man to use him boy." With that, the man reached between Paul's legs and squeezed his now rock hard dick. Further exploration by the man's hand found his boy nuts. Paul's mind was on fire. A man he had never met, was playing with his stuff, and he was totally turned on by it. The flush in his face wasn't lost on the man.
"You're a hot boy. What the fuck are you doing in here boy?"
"Um, I, ah"
"Shut the fuck up boy. I'm not interested in what you have to say. That was what they call a rhetorical question boy. You don't really have to answer it. Got it boy?"
With that, the man's hand clamped down on his nuts hard, like a vise. The pain was incredible. The amazing thing in Paul's mind was that even though his nuts hurt like hell, his cock remained as hard as it had ever been. And then, something even more amazing happened. He came. His boy cock shuddered with the mix of pain and pleasure, and spurt after spurt of boy cum oozed from his cock. Pleasure turned to humiliation as the widening wet spot on his Dickies got larger and larger, yet the man never released his grip on Paul's nuts. If anything, his grip got firmer.
"You fucking punk. Who said you could shoot your load boy."
Paul's head wrung as the man's open hand cuffed his head. Paul felt the blow but couldn't process what in the world was happening to him.
Suddenly, there were more hands on him. Hands pulling him off of the stool, hands yanking his arms behind his back, hands propelling him to the pool of light surrounding the pool table. Paul felt some kind of cloth being stuffed into his protesting mouth. Paul tried to struggle, but the men that were in control of him were very strong. He was beginning to get very scared. He had no idea what these men had in mind, nor why. A rag with a very noxious smell to it was shoved into Paul's face. A couple breaths later, and reality stopped for Paul, and he drifted off into a drug-induced haze.
Paul became aware of the music first. Throbbing, bass, trance-like music he had never heard before. It was dreamy music the made Paul relax. As he woke up, he took a mental inventory of his situation. Instinctively, he began to stretch, much like a cat when it wakes up. To his surprise his limbs didn't respond much. He felt the restraints at his ankles, thighs, wrists and elbows. He tried to lift his head up, but found that that too was restrained. A breeze in the room felt cool against his skin. Dread began to fill his mind. He was naked and strapped onto something. What the fuck was going on? Panic set in and Paul started to jerk violently against his bonds to no effect though. It occurred to Paul that he couldn't see anything. There was some kind of blindfold on his face partially obscuring his vision, although, he could see a little light and vague shapes. He heard the snap of crackling burning wood. This place smelled different as well. Like stagnate air, leather, burning wood, and maybe a little incense? Paul couldn't be sure.
This sure as hell wasn't anything in his short experience. What kind of people could do this to a person. Feeling terribly alone and supremely out of control, his body relaxed against his bonds.
It was hard for Paul to tell how long he waited there, but it seemed like at least a couple of hours. Finally, after what seemed forever to Paul, he heard heavy footsteps and voices approaching. There seemed to be many voices coming, and soon, Paul lost count of the different voices he heard. Most of the conversation however seemed to be concerning some new property and what kind of things needed to be done to the property in order to get it sold. Paul had no idea what they were talking about. He wondered idly what in the world they were talking about.
"Hey, can someone please let me the fuck up?"
Conversation stopped, and Paul gasped as he felt a stinging pain at the same time he heard the sound of rushing wind.
"The property doesn't speak. If you speak again, you will regret it."
Tears streamed down Paul's face. The pain on the blow was unbearable. But, being the product of years of parental abuse, Paul resolved to not make another sound.
Paul felt the object he was strapped to being lifted at his head from a prone position. Steadily, the platform was raised until he felt almost like he was standing, although, there was still a pronounced angle to the platform.
"Is that what you're selling Hawk?" a familiar voice said.. Paul wondered why that voice sounded familiar...
"Yeah, this little punk should make someone a nice little pet. Why you interested Sarge?"
Sarge? Could it be? Thought Paul.
"He's a little scrawny don't you think Hawk? How much were you thinking of getting for him?"
"How's $500 sound to get the bidding started?" said the man Paul now knew as Hawk.
Suddenly, around the room, shouts of ever increasing prices bawled out. When the bidding got to $10,000, Paul got really scared. This wasn't just some little joke anymore. These men were bidding real money now, and the term "property" and "pet" and "slave" were starting to get thrown around a lot more, although the number of men now actively bidding had declined to just 3 different voices now.
"Hawk, before the slave is delivered, do you intend to modify him, or is he to be sold as is??"
"It's up to the highest bidder, but I have the ringmaster and the vet here tonight. Do I hear $12,000 for that gentlemen?"
What the fuck were the ringmaster and the vet for?? Fear from some primal place crept into Paul's mind. Involuntarily, Paul started to resist his bonds again, squirming and trying anything to get away.
"Please, Please, let me go. I..."
The sound of splitting air and then the crack of a heavy leather belt against the front of his thighs ended his sentence.
"Shut the fuck up boy. You will not speak again." SSSSSSMACK. Another crack of the belt, and more pain. SSSSMACK. Again the belt. The pain was incalculable for Paul. His stepfather had never whipped him before, and his legs were on fire.
A low keening noise was now escaping his mouth, and he felt drool running down his chin.
"$15,000" Again the voice he thought he remembered....
"Sold. Get the boy ready." And with that, Paul felt a number of things happening all at once. It was difficult for him to keep track through the pain, but he was trying very hard to remain conscious. Paul felt his restrained legs being spread apart, and he felt the temperature of the room starting to get a lot warmer. Strong hands also started rubbing something cool around his crotch. The conversation in the crowd was getting quite spirited at this point, with shouts of, "Yeah, shave him down" and "Get him smooth" were common. "Hey, look, the boys getting hard. Damn, can I still bid more money?"
There was general laughter followed by "You had your chance Bart" and then, more laughter. Paul couldn't help his reaction though, try as he might, his cock seemed to have a mind and life of its own.
Shaving the little hair off of Paul's body took less than 10 minutes. All the while, the pulse of Paul's heart was counted out by the bobbing of his hard cock for all to see. The shame of it burned on Paul's cheeks. How the hell could his cock be hard? It was like it was some traitorous thing.
"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHGGGG." The shock of the cold against his tender nipples was sudden and took Paul completely by surprise. The shock quickly turned to a dull ache as the cold conspired to numb the area quickly.
"Hey Jack? You got all your tools tonight?"
"Yeah Hawk, how you want this one done?"
"Hell, ask his owner. Hey Sarge, how you want him done??"
"Nips and PA Jack. Nice heavy gauge to start with. No sense in going through all that stepping up in sizes forever. Know what I mean?"
"Yeah, Sarge, I got ya."
For Paul, the world had closed down to just the sensation of the freezing of his nips. There was a steady burning ache now, and he wondered to himself, if he would be able to take much more. A rubber gag of some kind had been shoved into his mouth and then somehow strapped around his head. His protests and cries of pain were now muffled animalistic noises, lost in the noise of the crowd and the music.
The ice was removed from Paul's nipples whereupon Jack tested them by pulling and pinching them. When there was little obvious objection from Paul, he judged them to be sufficiently numbed to begin. Taking a large 8ga needle, Jack worked it quickly through the left nipple. The boy didn't squirm, so Jack proceeded quickly. There was a little blood, but overall, not much. Jack backed the needle with the 6ga ring that the boy would wear. There would be a little more tearing that way, but he hadn't brought a larger gauge needle. The ring went in with a little difficulty, more blood began to run from the new piercing, but it would soon stop. Taking the ends of the flexible ring together, he ignited the small torch with which he would weld the ends together. When this accomplished, he went to work on the right nipple. Duplicating the process over, the ring went in quickly, with little recognition from the boy that anything had happened.
The next piercing would be a little different, as there was a higher potential for bleeding from the boy's penis. Jack very carefully swabbed the area under the boy's glans with bedadine followed by swabbing the inside of the boy's urethra with lydacane. Allowing about a minute for the drug to deaden the nerves in the area, Jack took out the hooked 6ga needle which he would use to pierce the boy's penis. Jack had to stifle a laugh as the boy's cock kept bobbing up and down with every beat of the boy's heart. Oh well, no time like the present, Jack thought, and worked the needle into the boy's urethra. When it was about 3/8ths of an inch in, he forced the needle through the boy's cock. The gauge of the needle caused some significant tissue damage, and there was a copious amount of blood initially. Taking the 6ga PA ring Jack quickly fished the open end of the ring through the new hole in the boys penis. The ring slid through without much difficulty, and again, Jack used the same technique to close the ring, permanently closing it.
The bleeding in the boys nipples had already stopped, and the bleeding in the boys penis would stop momentarily. Jack stepped back to admire his handy work. This one was going to be something special. He could wait to see him after the Vet got done with him.
During the piercing process, Paul was only aware of some tugging on his nipples, and when his cock was pierced, his only feeling was of a feeling of a little pressure on the inside of it.
"Nice job Jack"
"Thanks Sarge. You want anything else done while I've got my tools out?"
"Nah, that will do for now. Maybe in a few months, we'll get some more done. You never know." Sarge looked down at his new property and smiled. When the boy had come into his recruiting station, he had caused his heart to jump. This boy was something special. Naturally smooth body, long lean muscles, and the face of an angel with bright blue eyes. It had been a shame thought the sergeant that this boy was going out to Paris Island. Oh well, it wasn't going to happen now. This one was going to the ranch, and the Colonel would be very pleased. Very pleased indeed. The only thing left was for the Vet to do his work, and this boy would be ready to take on his new life.
"Hey Hawk, Where the fuck is the Vet?" yelled SSG Thomas.
"He's on the way. You want to get the last load out of the boy before he gets down here?"
"Hell yeah. You got the machine?"
From above the table where the boy was strapped down on, came a hose with a long stainless cylinder attached to it. The boy's cock was already hard, so all that Sarge had to do was lube it up a little and slide the cylinder over it. The rubber grommet at the base of the milker would create the suction necessary with the lubricant.
"Enjoy this boy. This is the last time you're ever going to cum.'
With that, a switch was flipped, and a very very pleasurable sensation flooded Paul's body. The milker started its subtle vibrating and the interior sleeve of the cylinder began its methodical pulsating up and down the boy's penis.
Paul couldn't understand what was happening any more. All he could process was that this the last part of his current torture. A feeling of relief swept over him, and he allowed himself to believe that after this, these men would allow him to leave, and that he would be able to continue on with his life, become a Marine, and finally get to be his own person in the world. Images of other Marines in uniform formed in his mind. These images had been the grist of his mastrubation fantasies for the previous months since he had first entered the recruiter's office. The force of the milker was having its effect on Paul and he could feel a powerful orgasm working its way up. Paul's mind tried to prevent this from happening too quickly, but was unable to stop it. For the second time in the evening, Paul's cum erupted from his cock.
There was a cheer from the assembled men in the dungeon as the boy's body rocked from the first of many orgasms to come. There was a particularly satisfied grin on SSG Thomas' face. This boy had the right attitude. Some boys in the situation were never able to get an erection and suffered their loss without one last release.
Paul's body rocked from the orgasm. It had been extremely intense, and his cock was particularly sensitive after cumming, but the milker didn't care. It just continued its mechanical function.
Sarge inspected the collection receptacle and was pleased to see a thick white ejaculate. He contemplated taking a taste for himself, but knew that the consequences of that would be terrible. The Colonel liked his pleasures, and there were too many men here that were friendly with the Colonel to risk a little pleasure for himself.
Within two minutes, the signs of another impending orgasm were written all over the boy. His toes were curling up again, and the second orgasm was completed. The machine efficiently deposited the boy's cum in the collection receptacle with his previous load. Sarge was pleased to see that the consistency of this load was almost identical to the first one. This boy had a lot of cum to deposit tonight. Already, within the crowd, there were several bets going as to how many times the boy was going to be able to cum before he started shooting blanks. The "good" money was being bet on five times. Sarge grinned to himself. This boy was a cummer, and seven or eight times was not out of the question.
Paul was floating on the high of his sexual releases. Not even missing a beat, the milker continued to provide Paul with a kind of pleasure he had never experienced before. The images of Marines in uniform were being replaced with the visions of the men he had seen in the bar earlier in the evening. Men with muscular frames, hairy chests, leather pants, boots. The fantasy was quite vivid for Paul. It was almost as if one of his fantasy men was trying to fuck him.....
Sarge chuckled as he fitted the electrically charged anal plug into the boy. The boy's hole was very tight, but this little probe would really get the boy's cock going, thought SSG Thomas. After embedding the plug in the boy's ass, Sarge took the lead wires and attached them to the modulation board. He started with a slow and steady stream of pulses. He was pleased to see the obvious pleasure on the boy's face as this new device made its presence known to the boy.
For Paul, the rest of that part of the night was a complete blur. His very being was contained in the sensations resident in his ass and cock now. Getting fucked by his father was never like this. The fantasy of the big strong leather man was fading and now the image of his marine recruiter was there. SSG Thomas. So strong. Paul get he had a huge cock and yearned for the time when he would be able to feel his hard cock in his ass. He came again with a shudder.
Sarge noted that this time, the ejaculate wasn't as thick as the previous loads in the evening.
Ultimately, though, the boy came a total of 6 times before the machine only extracted air from the boy's nuts. Too bad for the boy, thought Sarge, since this truly would be the last time the boy was ever going to be able to shoot like that. He looked over to Hawk who had also been monitoring the boy's progress and then to the Vet. It was time.
The Milker was disconnected from the boy. Sarge was careful to seal up the boy's cum receptacle for the Colonel. The Man would be very pleased with his new boy's production.
The Vet walked over to Sarge. "Do you want the boy awake for this part?" Paul wondered in a very dreamy state what the new voice meant by that, but for his part, the haze of his sexual bliss clouded the truth of his situation to him.
"Yes. He is to remain awake, and it will be explained to him as it is happening. Are you ready doc?"
"Just take me a minute to get him ready. You want a complete reduction done as well?"
"Yeah. I want it to look like there was never a sack there at all doc. Do a good job. The Colonel will make it very worth your while."
With that, the Vet set about prepping Paul for the procedure of removing his boy nuts and bag. After several injections into his scrotum, penis, and surrounding groin, the Vet waited a couple minutes for the drugs to take affect.
"Lower the table, and raise the boy's head" ordered the Vet.
The table was returned to its horizontal position, and Paul felt something being place under his head. He still had no idea what was going on, but the drugs the Vet had injected into him were having their effect and it was like he was somehow detached from what was really happening. When the blindfold was removed from Paul's eyes. All he could see was a very bright light above him. He could hear the conversations of the men around him, so he assumed he was in a large room, although he really couldn't see anything beyond the light. Paul looked down at himself, and was surprised to see the shiny steel rings in both of his nipples. He had never seen body piercing before, and found that it looked quite cool to him. When his eyes looked down to his boy cock, he saw the huge ring that was now permanently a part of his cock. His cock was flaccid now but the big ring pulled on the head of his penis creating a tension there that he had never felt before. A man with a white doctor's coat came into view as well as SSG Thomas. SSG Thomas? What the fuck is he doing here? The question never got out of his mouth since the gag was still firmly in place.
"Ok boy, this is what's going to happen." SSG Thomas started to explain. "You see, my commander the Colonel saw you come into the bar tonight, and said that the best way you could be a Marine was to be the property of one. From this night forward, you are going to be the property of my commander. I will your trainer. But, boy, you have to understand that the Colonel only takes on boys who have been cut. To this end, your boy nuts are going to be removed now by the Vet. He will make sure that you are comfortable while the procedure is taking place. Do you have any questions boy?" A somewhat evil grin crossed his face. Paul tried desperately to voice his objections, and began trying to squirm, but his body just refused to move, and well, there was that thing in his mouth, so just a lot of muffled sound came out of him. "I didn't think so. Doc, if you will do the honors."
Conversation in the room stopped. The only sound was that of the music which had been turned down so the Vet could concentrate on his work. The room temp had been raised to almost 90 degrees, so the boy's nuts were well relaxed, and easy to get at. He took a number 2 scalpel and made an incision down the centerline of the front of the boy's scrotum. There was little blood, thanks to the drugs which restricted the flow of blood in the immediate area. The boy's scrotum opened revealing his testes. The Vet took the left one and rolled it out with his hand until it popped out of the incision. It was a smooth grey color, glistening in the bright overhead light. The cord holding the organ was quickly tied off robbing it of its life. A quick flick of his scalpel and it came away clean in his hand. The vet looked up at the shocked face of the angelic boy he was nutting. Oh well, this one was going to have it better than most boys he worked on. He placed the severed organ into the waiting tray and quickly got back to work rolling the boys right testicle out of the incision. The process was repeated and voila, the boy was a eunuch. The tricky part of the procedure was to take the now unused skin of the scrotum and make it seamless and smooth. The Colonel would pay a lot extra for care in this part. The Vet carefully trimmed the now excess skin and got out his suture kit. 15 stitches later, and the tight incision became almost invisible. There was just a little blood seeping from the wound, but it would soon stop. The vet looked at the two testicles in the tray, knowing the fate they had in store in the Colonel's kitchen.
The assembled crowd started to file by to see the Vet's handy work. All of them agreed that it would be very difficult to tell that the boy had ever had a set of balls under his now denuded cock.
The shock of seeing his nut cut out of his body had caused Paul to retreat deep into shock, passing out from the sight of it. The drugs eased him into a deep almost comatose state. A place he wished fervently to stay.
But, this is only the beginning of the story. There would be much more Paul would endure, and learn over the coming weeks, months and years. His dream of becoming a Marine was over, the reality of his slavery not yet realized in his mind.
SSG Thomas chuckled to himself. It had been a very interesting night. But the rest of the year looked like it was getting better, all the time. Yes, getting much better.
...was that this was a story about Nintendo 64! Mario Party Rules!!!
Fucktards like you are ALLOWED TO POST!!!
This site will now be known as "www.appleshill.com"
my wild guess, without reading the article, of course, is
someone somewhere is working on a 128 bits micro
errera hunamum ets
The worst spacial incident in recorded history just occurred and you're making IN SOVIET RUSSIA jokes?!?! My GOD, people, GET SOME BLOODY PRIORITIES!
By the way I happen to hate star trek and I already had a date.
Just for the records.
mod parent down, he is trolling :)
Some (not all) of the moderation changes are explained in CmdrTaco's journal (a while back).
As for the wonky math, you're not off-topic after all - they recently switched to IA64.
The moderation summaries only list the top three categories: funny, insightful, flamebait.
It won't list any of the others (outside the top three), which may be overrated, troll, or offtopic.
The worst spacial incident in recorded history just occurred and you people are talking about how fast the x86 64-bit processors are?!?! My GOD, people, GET SOME BLOODY PRIORITIES!
Oh, and apparently, they don't have a spare $600 box to test, so they dick around on the live production servers. Yay!
how can that go down from zero? that's never happened to me before, in all the tens of thousands of hours i've spent using microsoft... the only time i got an integer overflow was when i was at my friend's house using linux, that was the one and only time i used linux.
I hate to be pedantic, but "spacial" is not a word. You are looking for "spatial," but this isn't correct either, as the word actually is used to describe the distance between two objects.
And let's not kid ourselves; "the worst incident the history of space," is probably not true either. Think about it; the law of averages dictates that entire civilazations, planets, populations have undoubtedly been laid low by crashing comets, cosmic radiation, asteroids, etc.
So that doesn't really work.
Maybe it would be more appropriate to say, "The worst incident in the history of the US Space Program," or the "the worst incident in the history of humans exploring space," but then the whole Challenger thing comes to mind, and it might be even worse since when I was in first grade, they took us out of class to watch the Challenger launch in the Cafetorium (hey, I was in Houston-what else do they have to be proud of?).
Anyway, when the Challenger blew up, thousands of little kiddies in the Houston area (and possibly across the country) were tramautized just like me, whereas this happened on a weekend, and it's after the Cold War, so no one cares about the space program anymore anyway, do they?
I've got an idea, how about calling it, "The worst incident involving space shuttles in the last few weeks or so." That sounds more appropriate.
(-1, Raw and Uncut is the only way to read)
The worst spacial incident in recorded history just occurred and you people are talking about... well, shit, I've no idea what you're talking about?!?! My GOD, people, GET SOME BLOODY PRIORITIES!
i had some spare karma a week ago, so i posted some pro-microsoft stuff... how quickly karma goes down when you're pro microsoft... i was unable to post for 4 days due to excessive bad posting.
FUCK YOU!
You took the fun out of everything, you insensitive clod!
Bloody priorities?
The authorities in Texas are telling people not to touch the wreckage. The administrators at NASA are telling reporters not to jump to conclusions. When a technical cause of the accident can be found, perhaps, Slashdotters can discuss changes to NASA policy.
In the meantime, I think we all have a grasp of the technical issues involved in 64 bit computing. Get your priorities straight..
...64 bits battle you!!!
(hey, I was in Houston-what else do they have to be proud of?) ::indignant expression::
Well, I was born there for starters, in the NERV-5 installation just to the southwest off 59.
But then, you probably weren't supposed to know about that back then, so I guess the space program is a start.
THIS THING CAN TURN ON A DIME, MACROSSZERO STYLE ALSO FUCK BETA, ~NYORON
You have your right to free speech. You also have a right to be an utter asshole if you wish. But I don't think anyone cares if this tragedy "technically" qualifies as a textbook "worst incident" scenario for the US Space Program.
I don't know who said it first but I'll say it again, "While you may have the right to do something, that does not mean you are always right in doing it."
So next time just STFU.
Mac OS X and Windows XP working side by side to fight back the night.
*nods*
Replying to a "IN SOVIET RUSSIA" joke is somehow being any better? The grandparent should get a life and just simply not reply, because it is obvious that you wont get through to them.
Support Israeli punk bands. Man Alive.