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Slashback: Revolutionism, Media, Oregon
Sounds and pictures from the same box -- impossible! An anonymous reader writes "The HP Digital Media Receiver ( discussed here before) is available for sale at CompUSA and online. The wired version is $199, and the wireless one is $299.
I've been using it for a little while, and I really like it so far. It took a while for the PC software to start serving, but now its fine. It found all my playlists and digital photos on the first pass, and the network setup worked properly too. I'd like to see higher-resolution photos, but it's a pretty cool way to show the pictures to my less-techie friends.
Also, I installed the PC software on both of my home PCs, and the Receiver automatically finds the music on both! It did have a bunch of duplicates (which made it easy for me to go prune out all my dual mp3s), but it was pretty cool. You can't edit a playlist at the TV set, which is a bit of a bummer, but I use WinAmp on my PC anyway, and that worked fine. I like the interface on the TV a lot (although it's a little dull after a while), and it sorted most of my media properly. Some of my MP3s ended up in weird places, but I guess that's from the ID3 tags?
One other thing - I am pretty sure I read somewhere that the Receiver runs Linux. Did anyone else see this too? The only other thing about it I didn't really like was the lack of a reset button. There is a power button, but it didn't reset the device when I pushed it, so I had to unplug it once.
Anyhow, I'm sure there are going to be a ton more products like this one out there soon, but I definitely prefer this to the Prismiq and the Audiotron. It's a much more intuitive box, although a front-panel LCD would be a really nice add!"
Since the general welfare means you, too. Cooper Stevenson writes "Thanks to all of those who called, wrote, and emailed their Legislators in Oregon, House Bill 2892 will get a hearing as covered by the Oregonian:
'A new bill would make Oregon the first state to take a formal stance against the hefty fees and technological limitations of software produced by large corporations such as Microsoft.''A House committee is scheduled to consider a proposal that promotes "open-source" software, which doesn't charge recurring fees and enables customers to alter the software code, making it more compatible with other programs.'
Global neural links sought. Controlio writes "With the first truly televised war underway, for the first time we have media members armed with sat trucks chasing the folks with the automatic weapons around. Several fixed cameras are mounted around Baghdad, and members of the media from all around the world are sending reports from the field using sat uplinks and video phones. So the question is, those of you with access to a Big Dish, have you found any wild feeds yet? I live in Michigan (U.S.), and have only been able to pinpoint local media backhauls (like Fox's news backhaul to their local affiliates), but nothing from abroad. Anyone out there have any sat and channel information for either the Baghdad cams, foreign news agencies, or best of all, the news feeds from the front line?"
This question is a good followup to a recent question posted as an Ask Slashdot seeking unbiased news about the current war.
Oregon was also the first state to boast a newspaper which refused to print the race of criminal suspects and refused to mention the names of "offensive" sports teams like the Cleveland Indians. Bunch of damn hippies if you ask me.
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Gamblers Forum
This is a DIE-IN!
EVERYBODY who doesn't support bush's imperialistaic policies and bloodlust for oil POST HERE and we'll clog teh article!!!!
DOWN with Bush and Blair, let the IRAQUI PEOPLE choose there government and if saddam is it then let it be!!!
WE WILL BE HEARED!
Sixty years ago, I worked in what was once my Grandfather's Greenhouses. Gramps had died a year earlier and Grandma, now in her seventies had been forced to sell to the competition. I got a job with the new owners and mostly worked the range by myself. That summer, they hired a man to help me get the benches ready for the fall planting.
Ike always looked like he was three days from a shave and his whiskers were dirty white, shaded by the brim of his battered felt fedora.
He did not chew tobacco but the corners of his mouth turned down in a way that, at any moment, I expected a trickle of thin, brown juice to creep down his chin. His bushy, brown eyebrows shaded pale, gray eyes.
Old Ike, he extended his hand, lifted his leg like a dog about to mark a bush and let go the loudest fart I ever heard. The old man winked at me, "Ike Thomas is the name and playing pecker's my game."
I thought he said, "Checkers." I was nineteen, green as grass. I said, "I was never much good at that game."
"Now me," said Ike, "I just love jumping men . . ."
"I'll bet you do."
". . . and grabbing on to their peckers," said Ike.
"I though we were talking about . . ."
"You like jumping old men's peckers?"
I shook my head.
"I reckon we'll have to remedy that." Ike lifted his right leg and let go another tremendous fart. "He said, "We best be getting to work."
That summer of 1941 was a more innocent time. I learned most of the sex I knew from those little eight pager cartoon booklets of comic-page characters going at it. Young men read them in the privacy of an outside john, played with themselves, by themselves and didn't brag about it. Sometimes, we got off with a trusted friend and helped each other out.
Under the greenhouse glass, the temperature some times climbed over the hundred degree mark. I had worked stripped to the waist since April and was as brown as a berry. On only his second day on the job and in the middle of August, Ike wore old fashioned overalls. Those and socks in his high-top work shoes was every stitch he wore. When he bent forward, the bib front billowed out and I could see the white curly hairs on his chest and belly.
"Me? I just love to eat pussy!" Ike licked his lips from corner to corner then sticking his tongue out far enough that the tip could touch the end of his nose. He said, A man's not a man till he knows first hand, the flavor of a lady's pussy."
"People do that?"
He winked. "Of course the taste of a hard cock ain't to be sneezed at neither. Now you answer me, yes or no. Does a man's cock taste salty or not?"
"I never . . ."
"Well, old Ike's willing to let you find out."
"No way."
"Just teasing," said Ike. "But don't give me no sass or I'll show you my ass." He winked. "Might show it to you anyway, if you was to ask."
"Why would I do that?"
"Curiosity, maybe. I'm guessing you never had a good piece of man ass."
"I'm no queer."
"Now don't be getting judgmental. Enjoying what's at hand ain't being queer. It's taking pleasure where you find it with anybody willing." Ike slipped a hand into the side slit of his overalls and I could tell he was fondling and straightening out his cock. "Now I admit I got me a hole that satisfied a few guys."
I swallowed, hard.
Ike winked. "Care to be asshole buddies?"
***
We worked steadily until noon. Ike drew a worn pocket watch from the bib pocket of his loose overalls and croaked, "Bean time. But first its time to reel out our limber hoses and make with the golden arches before lunch."
I followed Ike to the end of the greenhouse where he stopped at the outside wall of the potting shed. He opened his fly, fished inside, and finger-hooked a soft white penis with a pouting foreskin puckered half an inch past the hidden head.
"Yes sir,"