Apple is working on a series of titles which they want to sell on their own and don't want to be beaten the punch. Of course these are titles which already have good market share. When you think of instrumental games, for instance, you immediately think of the quintessencial ROCKBAND. Apple won't pay for the licensing, but has their own plans for a clone product. When making clones, you don't want to make a clone of something already cloned to death on newgrounds, and Jobs knows this. In fact it's so familiar to Jobs that it's been mentioned at board meetings. See the following account of one such meeting:
Steve sipped his magic water, brow furrowed, listening with his head cocked to the side to the blather the record execs across the table were vomiting at him. The barfing had been ongoing for the better part of three hours, and Steve was bored. As he set his water bottle down, his mind meandered from the meeting to more interesting things. Dammit, Steve thought, this is my boardroom. It's about time they heard my speech!
Beside Steve in his stupor sat none other than Phil Schiller, mulleted and wearing his typical denim button-down, and John Rubenstein who was wearing a blue polo, collar-up, with iPod headphones snaking up over his hairy chest and pouring out the front of his collar. Not only was John the Senior Vice President of the iPod division, he was also a member.
As the meeting droned on, Phil noted the glazed look in John and Steve's eyes. Without moving a muscle, Phil fiddled with something underneath the table and a random burst of music exploded from John's neck. Before John could look down, however, the music stopped. Steve hadn't noticed and Phil looked over at John and smirked. John wondered when Phil had managed to take his Shuffle.
Clearing his throat, Steve rose from his chair, interrupting the record executives across from him. They looked up at Steve's blue-jeaned form, surprised. They watched as Steve strutted to the corner of the room and grabbed a new bottle of water out of a mini-fridge, uncapped it, and took a sip. He looked around him at all the expectant eyes, like baby birds held captive in a nest, and smiled.
"I have a little something to share with you today," Steve said, the fire coming back to his eyes. "We all do, in fact, and we're really excited to present this special Stevenote with you today."
Phil looked over to John and rolled his eyes. Having endured one too many Stevenotes, he wasn't what could be called very excited in the least. Stultified was probably a better term for what Phil was experiencing at the moment. John too had witnessed several private mini-keynotes where Steve Jobs had paraded around a boardroom and drove a point relentlessly home for hours on end.
Phil and John shrugged, helpless, and turned to Steve. At least it wasn't record company rhetoric.
"Gentlemen, today we stand here over two years after Apple and the recording industry made downloading music easy and legal," Steve began, not missing a beat. "And in two years we've grown in a really impressive way, and we've got some really impressive numbers to show you."
Without a word, Steve yanked a small device that looked like a black iPod Shuffle out of his pocket and clicked a button. Silently, metal armor appeared from the walls and covered the windows. The lights dimmed behind them, and a solid metal panel slid shut with a sucking sound over the doorway. One wall was lit by an unseen projector and down-tempo electronica started playing softly in the background.
The record executives looked around, frenzied, not sure what had just happened. Some grabbed for papers and shoved them into briefcases while others swung around in their chairs feeling for something to grab onto. They began muttering, asking one another what was going on, nerves on edge. One exec took his mobile phone out and opened it. He looked hysterical in the dim light.
"You'll see that your mobile phone's signal is jammed in here, as are all other means of external communication
QNX is about to take another quantum leap forward. Production on a new QNX kernel, dubbed "Axion," aka QNX 8, is wrapping up later this summer and will debut sometime early next year. And it's going to pack a wallop in the embedded industry.
"Technologies like 64-bit, VT, SSE, and multi-core have all become important in the market today," said Luc du Croix, senior kernel engineer with QNX Software Systems. "And it's important that QNX take advantage of each and every one of them."
We spoke with du Croix, who has been with QSS for over a decade in various roles, about the changes coming in the new operating system. For the last year, he and his team have been hard at work rewiring their kernel alongside Intel and AMD engineers so they can support new features as soon as possible.
"With this upgrade we're actually using different SSE operations to speed kernel performance." Heretofore, SSE was seen mostly as a multimedia booster, useful for games and Photoshop plugins. "Imagine using a single instruction to move up to one hundred and twenty-eight bits of message data."
Multiple cores are key too. QNX already supports multi-processing and has won awards for its efficient use of multiple processors. But massively multi-core processing (MMCP) is a little different. "SMP is like starting a fire with sticks. MMCP is like lobbing a Molotov cocktail out of the window of a speeding Ferrari and that's what we'd really like to be doing."
Another thing that's changing is processor caching. Back when Neutrino was released, 256k off-die cache was common. Today, 2 MB on-chip cache is the norm. "QNX Neutrino is tiny, 69k, and with all of the processor cache available today, we've rewritten the kernel to load and run entirely from cache."
Running from cache has some serious speed advantages. "QNX messaging is a whole order of magnitude faster when run from cache versus system memory," du Croix said. "It prevents QNX from having to access the system bus." QSS calls this feature FastCache.
When QNX does run in main memory, however, it will be able to access up to sixteen exabytes thanks to the 64-bit ground-up rewrite. "Thirty-two bits just wasn't enough," du Croix said. "Our customers want to run on AMD 64, Core 2, Power6, and they're all playing with 64-bits."
After the update is polished, it will be bundled with the latest version of the Eclipse development suite and offered as an upgrade to developers as QNXtreme, the successor to the current QNX 6.3-based Momentics. QSS will also include a whole new userland based on FreeBSD 6's, an idea left over from the scrapped Overfiend project.
Customers deploying production systems will have the option to upgrade when the time comes as Axion will be completely backward compatible with 32-bit platforms. Customers using QNX4, however, will likely want to contact their QSS rep for evaluation.
Since the 2009 Iranian election protests, Eric S. Raymond, self-appointed public face of the hacker movement and alleged core developer of the Linux kernel, had been running wild thinking about wishing for Middle East problems spilling over into the Americas.
His long-standing suspicion of Islam, coupled with a throbbing curiosity about a people who wiped excrement from their backsides with their bare hands, had Eric in disarray. One minute he was conspiring with Iranian hackers in IRC, the next he was bolted to Fox News, foaming at the mouth and shouting at the television.
Alongside all of this were his trusty companions, a never-ending bottle of Jägermeister and his Glock.
Eric was just posting another rant to his blog when his 386 started swapping like a man at a computer auction; Felchmale was loading a new message.
From: emad.opensores@gmail.com
To: esr@catb.org
Date: JUN 20 2009 16:27
Subject: IRANIAN HACKER COMMUNIQUÉ
Eric,
It's Emad.
I know we haven't spoken since that whole Michael incident, but I think we should put our heads together about these Iranian hackers.
Meet me at the Carney's Point Flying J at 10 PM. Get shower stall 16 and wait for me. I'll be wearing a Slashdot t-shirt and drinking Bawls.
Don't be late. The future of Iranian hackers depends on it. So does the security of America too I guess, and gun ownership or something.
Emad
Eric smiled, lurid and yellow, and checked his X11 clock. Just after 4:30. He had several hours before he was to meet Emad. He took a shot of Jäger to celebrate and logged back into the Iranian hacker IRC channel. He shoved his glock down the front of his jeans, poured another shot of Jäger, and logged into the Iranian IRC server.
Eric's glow-in-the-dark Casio calculator watch luminesced 9:59 PM at him in the darkened shower stall. He was at the Flyin' J's Travel Plaza near Penns Grove, New Jersey, and had just finished a Double Whopper with cheese and a king-sized order of onion rings. His cola sat nearby, untouched, since he'd spirited a fresh bottle of Jägermeister in with him by means of his Hackers bookbag. He was lucky to have found the rare tie-in merchandise on eBay and jumped at it; now the leader of hackers everywhere had an official bookbag.
Into his fourth shot of the night, Eric relished the ice-cold herbal liqueur. Emad was several minutes late, and Eric had taken the chance to make a particularly loud bowel movement and was now courtesy flushing for the third time in as many minutes. He downed his fifth shot of Jägermeister, whipped his sweatpants up to his belly, replaced his Glock in the waistband, and began some hacker stretches and exercises when he heard a knock at the door.
"Yes, can I help you?" Eric shouted through the thick steel door. "This shower is occupied."
"Just like Iran is occupied by the Great Satan of American interventionist politics?" came the reply from the other side.
Eric fumbled with the lock and opened the door with a scrape.
"Emad! As the leader of hackers around the world, I'd like to welcome you to my makeshift office!" Eric said, bowing. "We shall liberate our Iranian brothers this night!"
Emad looked around at the fastfood garbage, the bottle of Jäger cocked in the urinal full of ice, and a tan, tank-like Toshiba laptop sitting propped on the sink. It smelled like feces slathered in Burger King onion ring sauce. A fly buzzed somewhere in the shower stall.
"Hello, Eric," Emad said, finally locking eyes as best he could with the leader of hackerdom before him. "Before we begin this, you must explain something to me."
"Uh, what's that, Emad? I thought we had this all planned out."
Eric had been driving through Pennsylvania since dusk and had crossed into Ohio about two hours ago. It was 2 AM and pitch black outside as he approached Columbus. He flicked the ash from his Marlboro Light out his cracked window and mopped a greasy swatch of orange-brown hair back across his forehead. He hadn't stopped to eat, drink, or relieve himself since he'd left Malvern and the strain of the road was getting to him. With a gulp of cold coffee and one last puff from his cigarette he rolled his window up and refocused.
His eyes glanced over the console on their way back up to his dirty windshield, and to Eric's chagrin the gas needle was hovering just above E, shimmying ever so slightly as his Omni wiggled and jammed down the highway. He began scanning the horizon for travel plazas where he could buy gas and freshen up for the next third of his journey. It wasn't long before he saw Exit 122 and soon after a sign for a Flying J Travel Plaza. Eric exited I-70 quickly, anxious for a break.
After pulling up next to a pump, Eric dragged himself out of his car and waited with the gas nozzle in hand, just in case of a backfire, as his Omni usually shuttered for a minute or so after he'd shut it off. Finally jamming the nozzle into the hole, Eric smiled as he envisioned a steamy hot shower. After that he would indulge in the luxury of a late-night truck-stop feast. ESR tapped his foot as he waited for the pump to start. Half a second later, he almost had a heart attack.
"Sir, all of our pumps are now prepay and you'll have to come inside to pay before you can pump your gas," an unseen speaker blared at him.
Startled, Eric jumped back, dropped the nozzle on the ground, and bumped the Omni's gas door shut with his ass. His heart beat furiously and he trembled uncontrollably. Heeding the cashier's friendly greeting, Eric picked the nozzle up and shoved it back in its holster and made his way to the store's entrance. He was not pleased with having to prepay, not pleased at all. And he intended to share this with the clerk. He marched up to the front checkout and drew himself up to his whole 5'6 and glared.
"Do you know who I am?" Eric demanded, his voice like a teapot about to blow its top.
The cashier, a lean young man of about 20 with longish dark hair pulled back in a pony tail with three days of stubble and sky-blue eyes, looked at him and stifled a chuckle. "No," he said. "I don't."
"Well that's your first mistake," Eric said before he paused to look at the clerk's name-tag, "Shawn."
Shawn bit his cheeks to keep from smiling and made direct eye contact with Eric — or tried to, since Eric's eyes were all over the place at this late hour. "I'm sorry about that, sir. What can I help you with tonight?" he asked.
"You can start by putting thirty five dollars in gas on pump thirteen," Eric said. "And then I'll take three of these motor oils, five of those bottles of trucker pills, and one of your hot showers in the back," he finished, grabbing and throwing the items on the counter.
Ringing, Shawn watched to make sure Eric didn't pack anything in his pockets during the sale.
"Will this be cash or credit?" Shawn asked.
"Credit," Eric answered with gusto. "On my VA Software credit card!"
Eric produced a blue credit card with the familiar Tux penguin logo in the right hand corner and gave it to Shawn. He stared at the ground and tapped his foot while the transaction went through. He yawned and looked off into the distance at the showers, where he would soon bathe himself after days of sweaty travail. That last eight hours of driving had really clenched the odor. Eric idly noticed one of the doors had a Linux sticker on it and smiled, bemused. He'd take that room for luck.
"Just sign here," Shawn said after handing Eric his card, a receipt, and a cheap pen. "Would you like a bag?"
"No, no, no, no bag tonight," Eric said as he signed the receipt and gathered his purchases up in his arms and began hobbling toward the door.
Sunny didn’t open her eyes until she was sure the voice calling her was real and not echoing in her dreams. The silhouette of her Uncle Hal disappeared in the room after he closed her bedroom door behind him.
“Sunnywake up.”
She slowly stretched over and illuminated the room with the white lamp on her nightstand.
“Uncle Hal, what’s going on? Is something the matter?” she asked even though he looked unashamedly giddy.
“No. It’s Christmas day, sweetheart.”
“Oh.” She glanced at the glowing green numbers of a digital clock. “It’s 4 A.M., though.”
“I know. I have a present for you. Well, I have a few presents for you but I really wanted to give you this one. I was going to wait until five but I’m way too excited.”
It wasn’t until he produced a wrapped gift from behind his back that she realized he had come in with it tucked out of view. He sat the box down on the bed as if he wanted the action to transfer his excitement to her. “Merry Christmas, Sunny.”
She examined it in her grip for a moment before finally tearing off the first scrap of wrapping paper.
“So, do you like it?”
“Uhyeah,” she answered, reading the word ‘Barbie’ on top of the vivid, pink box. “It’s great. I love it.”
Sunny had never seen such a vibrantly themed item. ‘Barbie’ was a beaming beach blonde with an outfit consisting of colors mostly from the neon side of the color spectrum.
Hal took a seat next to her, his excitement noticeably receding. “You hate it.”
“No,” she quickly said, “of course not. I justdon’t know what to do with it. Can I take it out of the box?”
“Of course you can.” He picked up the box and stared down at it. “Then, you buy her a dream house and a convertible and vicariously live through her until you can buy those things in your real life.” Sunny giggled and Hal smiled at her. “Sweetie, I don’t know what you do with it but it’s kind of essential to have one as a little girl and I really want to do things that make you feel as normal as possible.”
“I’ve never felt unnormal.”
Behind his eyes, Hal was holding onto something. Something about her mother, something about how she spent the first few years of her life, perhaps even something about their circumstances and dealing with Dave’s illness but Sunny didn’t have enough time to decipher it before he successfully replaced it with the feeling he had entered the room with. “I promise your first Christmas with me and Dave is going to be the best one ever.”
“The only thing I wanted for Christmas was for Dave to be okay and I got that. I don’t need anything else.”
He kissed her lightly on the forehead. “I knowI wanted to do this for you, though.”
“Okay, Uncle Hal.”
A few hours later when she entered the living room, there was a bigger wrapped present occupying a sofa cushion next to Hal. She picked it up and slid a look to him as he tried to hide the formation of a smirk behind a particularly long sip of coffee.
“What is this?” She asked.
“You’ll find out when you open it.”
“Should I wait for Dave to come downstairs?”
“He left out really early this morning. He didn’t tell me where he was going or when he’d be back.”
She sighed. “I didn’t get you and Dave anything,” she declared sitting down with the shiny, purple box in her lap.
Hal laughed and gently squeezed her chin between his thumb and index. “You aren’t supposed to. We shower you in gifts. That’s how this holiday works.”
“Next year, I promise I’ll get you and Dave presents.”
How would so called "nongreen" traffic lights help colorblind people versus "green" traffic lights which use exactly the same color scheme? Open mouth and insert cock you stupid son of a bitch.
Obi-Wan woke with a start. A flickering in the Force had caught his notice. A vergence in the Force, Qui-Gon had called him.
The flickering in the Force was the presence of his former Padawan, Anakin Skywalker. He was near to his former Master, and it was the kind of disturbance no Knight could sleep through. Their Master-apprentice mindlink had survived even Anakin's turn into the dark side.
Which had done little for his sleep. Obi-Wan rose from the sleep-couch and silently donned his robe. Anakin had been his student; his companion and his most intimate friend since Qui-Gon had left him. Obi-Wan felt certain that Anakin was not a lost cause. He could be turned back to the light.
Qui-Gon would never have let him turn to the dark side in the first place.
Obi-Wan walked slowly to the cockpit of the transport, pondering.
Anakin could not have turned utterly to evil, because their mindlink remained. Of course, who knew if that meant anything? But surely there was still some good in him. Surely young Anakin Skywalker, of the touseled blond hair and the happy smile, could not have been eliminated completely. Yes, he had turned into a brooding adolescent, quiet and sullen, but the little blond child as Obi-Wan had first known him was surely deep inside. Surely.
And if he will not turn?
If Anakin would not turn back to the light, Obi-Wan understood that he was walking into the waiting arms of death. But there was no escaping it. He had to try to turn Anakin back, before it was too late./Do, or do not. There is no try./
So Obi-Wan would do. He had to. It was his responsibility. To himself, to Anakin, to Qui-Gon, and to the galaxy.
He smiled bitterly into the empty darkness of the cockpit. He would finish what he had started. Somehow.
*
Obi-Wan searched the Force for Anakin, and it led him to a darkened, empty hangar bay. The boy was waiting for him.
Anakin had dressed in a black jumpsuit. His light hair was touseled, and he looked as innocent as he had the day he'd left. Except, that is, for his eyes. They had aged a hundred years in only days.
Obi-Wan walked towards him slowly, his brown robe swishing softly against his legs. "Were you calling me?"
A quiet smile spread over Anakin's face. His features were familiar yet somehow different. Altered. His teeth were very white, visible to Obi-Wan even in the dim light. "On the contrary...you were calling me."
"Was I?" Obi-Wan said with a touch of earnestness. "What made you answer?"
Anakin came towards him, faster than Obi-Wan would have liked. His weapon slapped against his leg as he stalked his former Master. "You hope to turn me from my destiny," he said in a low, toneless voice. The barest glint of anger dwelled within it. Anakin's new alliance with evil showed fully only in his eyes, which burned with molten fury.
Obi-Wan felt cold fear steal into his chest. "This isn't your destiny, Anakin."
"Why did I come? I came to silence you." Anakin tugged out his lightsaber and snapped it on. It had looked the same as his old one, but it was a new saber; bright blood red had replaced the traditional Jedi color of the other.
Quickly, but reluctantly, Obi-Wan tossed his brown robe to the side and slowly pulled out his lightsaber. "I came to help you find yourself again," he tried. Anakin stood back a moment, studying his posture and stance.
"Anakin don't make me fight you," he said in the lowest of voices. He was not afraid, but merely sorrowful. He was not afraid to die
oh Force, to be with Qui-Gon again...
but he needed to live; to turn Anakin away from the darkness and evil that had drawn him in. He would defend himself, if necessary. Obi-Wan steeled himself; he had to succeed in this mission. He had failed once; he must not fail again. Anakin had to be redeemed.
"You shouldn't have come," Anakin answered, and his voice echoed oddly. It sounded different...and somehow wrong. It was deeper than it had been when he'd left his Mast
THE JENNY JONES SHOW "I have a perverse sexual fetish"
Jenny: Hi, and welcome to today's show - "I have a perverse sexual fetish." Let me warn you, today's topic is on the distrubing side. We will meet three men who at first glance appear to be normal, sane, and well-educated but thier deviant addiction to the popular Internet website Slashdot.org and individual sexual perversions set them apart from you and I.
Audience: EWWWWW!
Jenny: Let us meet our first guest, Harry Knowles.
(Harry Knowles, webmaster of the popular movie rumor site Aint It Cool News, is escorted from the backstage area in a wheelchair.)
Jenny: Hello Harry. I must say, I have visited your site many times and am honored to finally speak with you. So tell us, what is your sexual perversion?
Harry: Well Jenny...I have never admitted this before...but...I'm sorry.
(Harry is obviously distraught.)
Jenny: Don't be. Does it have anything to do with your paralysis?
Harry: Yes. I once enjoyed a normal sex-life, but that changed after the accident which left me paralyised from the waist down and left me unable to orgasm.
Jenny: That's understandable
Harry: It gets worse. After hours of masturbation and ingesting dangerous amounts of amyl-nitrate, I realized only one thing gives me any semblance of carnal pleasure....
(Harry pauses.)
Harry (head in hands): I like to pour hot grits down my pants.
Audience: EWWWWW!
Jenny: Hot grits...as in the breakfast food..??
Harry (in tears): Yes. Hot grits as in warm ground corn. I like to pour them down my pants. It feels so warm, so tender...don't hate me, is it wrong for a man to do the only thing that pleasures him?
Jenny: No, no it is not. It is obvious this strains you.
Harry (smiling): Strains me? Oh heavens no! Hot grits are a wonderful lover! Oh, to feel her sweet carress on my lifeless genitals. It is that of the great muse, Natalie Portman!
Audience: WOOOOO! NATALIE PORTMAN!
Harry: Yes Jenny, I am a gritsman...and I love it!
Jenny: Well I am glad you have found some way of self-satisfaction in material objects. Our next guest, however, finds gratification only in the digital world. Signal 11, come out!
(Signal 11, posterboy karma whore of Slashdot, is escorted from the backstage area. He sits, legs crossed, in a chair next to Harry Knowles.)
(Somewhere in the audience screams of "-1, Troll" are heard. Signal 11 reaches into his pocket and withdraws a phone. The phone is solid black, save for the words "BITCHSLAP" written on it. He quickly hits the button labeled "speed dial to cmdr. taco" and converses briefly. Suddenly, the entire audience is quiet and Signal 11 smiles.)
Jenny: Hello Signal 11.
Signal 11: Hello Jenny. I am pleased to be here. Perhaps after the show we can go orchestrate e-commerce applications?
Jenny: Uhhhh....anyway, what is your sexual perversion?
Signal 11: It all stems from my inability to syndicate interactive communities properly, embrace strategic supply-chains in the correct vortals....and that I have only one testicle.
Jenny: Wow. Those buzzwords. You strike me as one Insightful, Interesting, and Informative guy!
Signal 11: No need for the praise Jenny. My mod squad is on it. Say, how about that recent merger between Bungie and Micro$oft? That's going to leverage killer e-markets!
Audience: mmmmgrgppgh
Jenny: (laughing) Ha ha ha ha! "Micro$oft" You are a true master of language Signal 11, and Funny too!
Audience: mmmmgrgppgh
(Several geeky looking men come running in from backstage. Each carries a bit of karma labeled Insightful, Interesting, Informative, and Funny. They all rush to Signal 11's side and begin showering him with karma. It is obvious he is receiveng a sexual thrill from this public attention.)
Audience: mmmmgrgppgh
Jenny: You...you...you're a karma whore!
Signal 11: Yes Jenny, I am a karma whore...and I love it! I must run to the bathroom now.
This HOW-TO explains how to perform Buttsex in the Linux Operating System w/Enterprise Resources (LOSER). This HOW-TO assumes basic knowledge of general Linux operation. Preparation
Most basically, all Linux Buttsex requires is a machine running the Linux Operating System, a penis (also referred to as a "cock" or "dick"), and a willing friend. However, you benefit greatly, especially when starting out, if you posess standard Buttsex tools. Standard Buttsex Tools
Lubricant - Slippery stuff you smear on your johnson and your friend's manpussy, to ease the transition into Buttsex mode. Vaseline will do in a pinch, but water-based lubricants such as KY Jelly and Astroglide are preferable.
Contraception - Protective barrier between your schlong and the inside of your friend's love canal. Breeders use them to prevent pregnancy, but we queer nancies usually use them to protect ourselves from the deadly AIDS virus. While some enterprising faggots have made do with plastic wrap or masking tape, there is no substitute for a latex condom. Most all condoms will do, as long as they aren't the "extra-thin" type. Some condoms are labelled as beiong superior for Buttsex, but are not necessary. Step One -- Prepare the Anus
This step is especially important if your friend has never taken a willie in the ass before. Prepare his anus for the width and girth of your manhood with the "finger" command. It is used like so:
% finger [insert your friend's name here]
Begin with your index or middle finger, and then both middle AND index fingers, at the same time. Ten to fifteen minutes should do. If you wish, you may felate him or suck his balls, while you're fingering him. Step Two -- Entry
Here the fun starts. Have your friend lay prone on the bed, or even better, get down "on all fours". Optionally, place a couple pillows beneath him to make him more comfortable. Now position yourself behind him, and spread his asscheeks. Apply lubricant, generously, to both your sexrod, and his pit of pleasure. It is advisable to stick your fingers partially inside in his anus, to make sure that the entire edge of the entry is covered.
Your penis must be fully erect in order to make a sucessful entry. If you are not already "hard as a rock", you may rub your penis in his asscrack, while tweaking his nipples (or stroking his cock), and saying intimidating things, such as "I am going to make you squeal like a pig, boy. Squeal, like a pig!"
When your sexstick is sufficiently engorged with blood, it is time to being entry. Place the head of your cock firmly against his brown anal starfish. Begin applying firm pressure forwards, optionally using your hand to guide your dick on a true course into sodomy. Your friend is most likely moaning in agony or yelping, and you may either ignore this, or in a snide tone, say "You like that, bitch?"
When your penis is in, move on to the next step. Step Three -- Hardcore Assramming
This is fairly simple. Move your dick around in his ass, towards and then back, at varying speeds. If for some reason your dick pops out, put in back in, undaunted. Continue pumping and thrusting until you feel you are ready to move on to Step Four. Step Four -- Orgasm
When ready to blow your load, use this command:
% stdout > ass
This redirects your standard output stream into your friend's pink tunnel of XXXX. Enter the command, then with one final thrust, placing the entire length of your cock inside his body. Your penis will then eject about a quart of sticky white semen, accompanied by tremendous pleasure. Step Five -- Cleanup
If you wore a condom, cleanup is simple. Remove the condom and toss it out your window. Then sop up any other jizz, anal juice, XXXX, or lubricant with Brawny(R) brand paper towels.
If you did not wear a condom, your friend will have a steady drip of cum out of his ass for the next few hours. Tell him to "buck up" and stuff some toilet paper in his underwear. Afterward
Slashdot Mirror
Apple is working on a series of titles which they want to sell on their own and don't want to be beaten the punch. Of course these are titles which already have good market share. When you think of instrumental games, for instance, you immediately think of the quintessencial ROCKBAND. Apple won't pay for the licensing, but has their own plans for a clone product. When making clones, you don't want to make a clone of something already cloned to death on newgrounds, and Jobs knows this. In fact it's so familiar to Jobs that it's been mentioned at board meetings. See the following account of one such meeting:
Steve sipped his magic water, brow furrowed, listening with his head cocked to the side to the blather the record execs across the table were vomiting at him. The barfing had been ongoing for the better part of three hours, and Steve was bored. As he set his water bottle down, his mind meandered from the meeting to more interesting things. Dammit, Steve thought, this is my boardroom. It's about time they heard my speech!
Beside Steve in his stupor sat none other than Phil Schiller, mulleted and wearing his typical denim button-down, and John Rubenstein who was wearing a blue polo, collar-up, with iPod headphones snaking up over his hairy chest and pouring out the front of his collar. Not only was John the Senior Vice President of the iPod division, he was also a member.
As the meeting droned on, Phil noted the glazed look in John and Steve's eyes. Without moving a muscle, Phil fiddled with something underneath the table and a random burst of music exploded from John's neck. Before John could look down, however, the music stopped. Steve hadn't noticed and Phil looked over at John and smirked. John wondered when Phil had managed to take his Shuffle.
Clearing his throat, Steve rose from his chair, interrupting the record executives across from him. They looked up at Steve's blue-jeaned form, surprised. They watched as Steve strutted to the corner of the room and grabbed a new bottle of water out of a mini-fridge, uncapped it, and took a sip. He looked around him at all the expectant eyes, like baby birds held captive in a nest, and smiled.
"I have a little something to share with you today," Steve said, the fire coming back to his eyes. "We all do, in fact, and we're really excited to present this special Stevenote with you today."
Phil looked over to John and rolled his eyes. Having endured one too many Stevenotes, he wasn't what could be called very excited in the least. Stultified was probably a better term for what Phil was experiencing at the moment. John too had witnessed several private mini-keynotes where Steve Jobs had paraded around a boardroom and drove a point relentlessly home for hours on end.
Phil and John shrugged, helpless, and turned to Steve. At least it wasn't record company rhetoric.
"Gentlemen, today we stand here over two years after Apple and the recording industry made downloading music easy and legal," Steve began, not missing a beat. "And in two years we've grown in a really impressive way, and we've got some really impressive numbers to show you."
Without a word, Steve yanked a small device that looked like a black iPod Shuffle out of his pocket and clicked a button. Silently, metal armor appeared from the walls and covered the windows. The lights dimmed behind them, and a solid metal panel slid shut with a sucking sound over the doorway. One wall was lit by an unseen projector and down-tempo electronica started playing softly in the background.
The record executives looked around, frenzied, not sure what had just happened. Some grabbed for papers and shoved them into briefcases while others swung around in their chairs feeling for something to grab onto. They began muttering, asking one another what was going on, nerves on edge. One exec took his mobile phone out and opened it. He looked hysterical in the dim light.
"You'll see that your mobile phone's signal is jammed in here, as are all other means of external communication
QNX is about to take another quantum leap forward. Production on a new QNX kernel, dubbed "Axion," aka QNX 8, is wrapping up later this summer and will debut sometime early next year. And it's going to pack a wallop in the embedded industry.
"Technologies like 64-bit, VT, SSE, and multi-core have all become important in the market today," said Luc du Croix, senior kernel engineer with QNX Software Systems. "And it's important that QNX take advantage of each and every one of them."
We spoke with du Croix, who has been with QSS for over a decade in various roles, about the changes coming in the new operating system. For the last year, he and his team have been hard at work rewiring their kernel alongside Intel and AMD engineers so they can support new features as soon as possible.
"With this upgrade we're actually using different SSE operations to speed kernel performance." Heretofore, SSE was seen mostly as a multimedia booster, useful for games and Photoshop plugins. "Imagine using a single instruction to move up to one hundred and twenty-eight bits of message data."
Multiple cores are key too. QNX already supports multi-processing and has won awards for its efficient use of multiple processors. But massively multi-core processing (MMCP) is a little different. "SMP is like starting a fire with sticks. MMCP is like lobbing a Molotov cocktail out of the window of a speeding Ferrari and that's what we'd really like to be doing."
Another thing that's changing is processor caching. Back when Neutrino was released, 256k off-die cache was common. Today, 2 MB on-chip cache is the norm. "QNX Neutrino is tiny, 69k, and with all of the processor cache available today, we've rewritten the kernel to load and run entirely from cache."
Running from cache has some serious speed advantages. "QNX messaging is a whole order of magnitude faster when run from cache versus system memory," du Croix said. "It prevents QNX from having to access the system bus." QSS calls this feature FastCache.
When QNX does run in main memory, however, it will be able to access up to sixteen exabytes thanks to the 64-bit ground-up rewrite. "Thirty-two bits just wasn't enough," du Croix said. "Our customers want to run on AMD 64, Core 2, Power6, and they're all playing with 64-bits."
After the update is polished, it will be bundled with the latest version of the Eclipse development suite and offered as an upgrade to developers as QNXtreme, the successor to the current QNX 6.3-based Momentics. QSS will also include a whole new userland based on FreeBSD 6's, an idea left over from the scrapped Overfiend project.
Customers deploying production systems will have the option to upgrade when the time comes as Axion will be completely backward compatible with 32-bit platforms. Customers using QNX4, however, will likely want to contact their QSS rep for evaluation.
Since the 2009 Iranian election protests, Eric S. Raymond, self-appointed public face of the hacker movement and alleged core developer of the Linux kernel, had been running wild thinking about wishing for Middle East problems spilling over into the Americas.
His long-standing suspicion of Islam, coupled with a throbbing curiosity about a people who wiped excrement from their backsides with their bare hands, had Eric in disarray. One minute he was conspiring with Iranian hackers in IRC, the next he was bolted to Fox News, foaming at the mouth and shouting at the television.
Alongside all of this were his trusty companions, a never-ending bottle of Jägermeister and his Glock.
Eric was just posting another rant to his blog when his 386 started swapping like a man at a computer auction; Felchmale was loading a new message.
From: emad.opensores@gmail.com
To: esr@catb.org
Date: JUN 20 2009 16:27
Subject: IRANIAN HACKER COMMUNIQUÉ
Eric,
It's Emad.
I know we haven't spoken since that whole Michael incident, but I think we should put our heads together about these Iranian hackers.
Meet me at the Carney's Point Flying J at 10 PM. Get shower stall 16 and wait for me. I'll be wearing a Slashdot t-shirt and drinking Bawls.
Don't be late. The future of Iranian hackers depends on it. So does the security of America too I guess, and gun ownership or something.
Emad
Eric smiled, lurid and yellow, and checked his X11 clock. Just after 4:30. He had several hours before he was to meet Emad. He took a shot of Jäger to celebrate and logged back into the Iranian hacker IRC channel. He shoved his glock down the front of his jeans, poured another shot of Jäger, and logged into the Iranian IRC server.
Eric's glow-in-the-dark Casio calculator watch luminesced 9:59 PM at him in the darkened shower stall. He was at the Flyin' J's Travel Plaza near Penns Grove, New Jersey, and had just finished a Double Whopper with cheese and a king-sized order of onion rings. His cola sat nearby, untouched, since he'd spirited a fresh bottle of Jägermeister in with him by means of his Hackers bookbag. He was lucky to have found the rare tie-in merchandise on eBay and jumped at it; now the leader of hackers everywhere had an official bookbag.
Into his fourth shot of the night, Eric relished the ice-cold herbal liqueur. Emad was several minutes late, and Eric had taken the chance to make a particularly loud bowel movement and was now courtesy flushing for the third time in as many minutes. He downed his fifth shot of Jägermeister, whipped his sweatpants up to his belly, replaced his Glock in the waistband, and began some hacker stretches and exercises when he heard a knock at the door.
"Yes, can I help you?" Eric shouted through the thick steel door. "This shower is occupied."
"Just like Iran is occupied by the Great Satan of American interventionist politics?" came the reply from the other side.
Eric fumbled with the lock and opened the door with a scrape.
"Emad! As the leader of hackers around the world, I'd like to welcome you to my makeshift office!" Eric said, bowing. "We shall liberate our Iranian brothers this night!"
Emad looked around at the fastfood garbage, the bottle of Jäger cocked in the urinal full of ice, and a tan, tank-like Toshiba laptop sitting propped on the sink. It smelled like feces slathered in Burger King onion ring sauce. A fly buzzed somewhere in the shower stall.
"Hello, Eric," Emad said, finally locking eyes as best he could with the leader of hackerdom before him. "Before we begin this, you must explain something to me."
"Uh, what's that, Emad? I thought we had this all planned out."
Eric had been driving through Pennsylvania since dusk and had crossed into Ohio about two hours ago. It was 2 AM and pitch black outside as he approached Columbus. He flicked the ash from his Marlboro Light out his cracked window and mopped a greasy swatch of orange-brown hair back across his forehead. He hadn't stopped to eat, drink, or relieve himself since he'd left Malvern and the strain of the road was getting to him. With a gulp of cold coffee and one last puff from his cigarette he rolled his window up and refocused.
His eyes glanced over the console on their way back up to his dirty windshield, and to Eric's chagrin the gas needle was hovering just above E, shimmying ever so slightly as his Omni wiggled and jammed down the highway. He began scanning the horizon for travel plazas where he could buy gas and freshen up for the next third of his journey. It wasn't long before he saw Exit 122 and soon after a sign for a Flying J Travel Plaza. Eric exited I-70 quickly, anxious for a break.
After pulling up next to a pump, Eric dragged himself out of his car and waited with the gas nozzle in hand, just in case of a backfire, as his Omni usually shuttered for a minute or so after he'd shut it off. Finally jamming the nozzle into the hole, Eric smiled as he envisioned a steamy hot shower. After that he would indulge in the luxury of a late-night truck-stop feast. ESR tapped his foot as he waited for the pump to start. Half a second later, he almost had a heart attack.
"Sir, all of our pumps are now prepay and you'll have to come inside to pay before you can pump your gas," an unseen speaker blared at him.
Startled, Eric jumped back, dropped the nozzle on the ground, and bumped the Omni's gas door shut with his ass. His heart beat furiously and he trembled uncontrollably. Heeding the cashier's friendly greeting, Eric picked the nozzle up and shoved it back in its holster and made his way to the store's entrance. He was not pleased with having to prepay, not pleased at all. And he intended to share this with the clerk. He marched up to the front checkout and drew himself up to his whole 5'6 and glared.
"Do you know who I am?" Eric demanded, his voice like a teapot about to blow its top.
The cashier, a lean young man of about 20 with longish dark hair pulled back in a pony tail with three days of stubble and sky-blue eyes, looked at him and stifled a chuckle. "No," he said. "I don't."
"Well that's your first mistake," Eric said before he paused to look at the clerk's name-tag, "Shawn."
Shawn bit his cheeks to keep from smiling and made direct eye contact with Eric — or tried to, since Eric's eyes were all over the place at this late hour. "I'm sorry about that, sir. What can I help you with tonight?" he asked.
"You can start by putting thirty five dollars in gas on pump thirteen," Eric said. "And then I'll take three of these motor oils, five of those bottles of trucker pills, and one of your hot showers in the back," he finished, grabbing and throwing the items on the counter.
Ringing, Shawn watched to make sure Eric didn't pack anything in his pockets during the sale.
"Will this be cash or credit?" Shawn asked.
"Credit," Eric answered with gusto. "On my VA Software credit card!"
Eric produced a blue credit card with the familiar Tux penguin logo in the right hand corner and gave it to Shawn. He stared at the ground and tapped his foot while the transaction went through. He yawned and looked off into the distance at the showers, where he would soon bathe himself after days of sweaty travail. That last eight hours of driving had really clenched the odor. Eric idly noticed one of the doors had a Linux sticker on it and smiled, bemused. He'd take that room for luck.
"Just sign here," Shawn said after handing Eric his card, a receipt, and a cheap pen. "Would you like a bag?"
"No, no, no, no bag tonight," Eric said as he signed the receipt and gathered his purchases up in his arms and began hobbling toward the door.
"Sir, wai
Sunny didn’t open her eyes until she was sure the voice calling her was real and not echoing in her dreams. The silhouette of her Uncle Hal disappeared in the room after he closed her bedroom door behind him.
“Sunnywake up.”
She slowly stretched over and illuminated the room with the white lamp on her nightstand.
“Uncle Hal, what’s going on? Is something the matter?” she asked even though he looked unashamedly giddy.
“No. It’s Christmas day, sweetheart.”
“Oh.” She glanced at the glowing green numbers of a digital clock. “It’s 4 A.M., though.”
“I know. I have a present for you. Well, I have a few presents for you but I really wanted to give you this one. I was going to wait until five but I’m way too excited.”
It wasn’t until he produced a wrapped gift from behind his back that she realized he had come in with it tucked out of view. He sat the box down on the bed as if he wanted the action to transfer his excitement to her. “Merry Christmas, Sunny.”
She examined it in her grip for a moment before finally tearing off the first scrap of wrapping paper.
“So, do you like it?”
“Uhyeah,” she answered, reading the word ‘Barbie’ on top of the vivid, pink box. “It’s great. I love it.”
Sunny had never seen such a vibrantly themed item. ‘Barbie’ was a beaming beach blonde with an outfit consisting of colors mostly from the neon side of the color spectrum.
Hal took a seat next to her, his excitement noticeably receding. “You hate it.”
“No,” she quickly said, “of course not. I justdon’t know what to do with it. Can I take it out of the box?”
“Of course you can.” He picked up the box and stared down at it. “Then, you buy her a dream house and a convertible and vicariously live through her until you can buy those things in your real life.” Sunny giggled and Hal smiled at her. “Sweetie, I don’t know what you do with it but it’s kind of essential to have one as a little girl and I really want to do things that make you feel as normal as possible.”
“I’ve never felt unnormal.”
Behind his eyes, Hal was holding onto something. Something about her mother, something about how she spent the first few years of her life, perhaps even something about their circumstances and dealing with Dave’s illness but Sunny didn’t have enough time to decipher it before he successfully replaced it with the feeling he had entered the room with. “I promise your first Christmas with me and Dave is going to be the best one ever.”
“The only thing I wanted for Christmas was for Dave to be okay and I got that. I don’t need anything else.”
He kissed her lightly on the forehead. “I knowI wanted to do this for you, though.”
“Okay, Uncle Hal.”
A few hours later when she entered the living room, there was a bigger wrapped present occupying a sofa cushion next to Hal. She picked it up and slid a look to him as he tried to hide the formation of a smirk behind a particularly long sip of coffee.
“What is this?” She asked.
“You’ll find out when you open it.”
“Should I wait for Dave to come downstairs?”
“He left out really early this morning. He didn’t tell me where he was going or when he’d be back.”
She sighed. “I didn’t get you and Dave anything,” she declared sitting down with the shiny, purple box in her lap.
Hal laughed and gently squeezed her chin between his thumb and index. “You aren’t supposed to. We shower you in gifts. That’s how this holiday works.”
“Next year, I promise I’ll get you and Dave presents.”
“You have to
How would so called "nongreen" traffic lights help colorblind people versus "green" traffic lights which use exactly the same color scheme? Open mouth and insert cock you stupid son of a bitch.
and a homeless guy to pracise with.
Obi-Wan woke with a start. A flickering in the Force had caught his notice. A vergence in the Force, Qui-Gon had called him.
The flickering in the Force was the presence of his former Padawan, Anakin Skywalker. He was near to his former Master, and it was the kind of disturbance no Knight could sleep through. Their Master-apprentice mindlink had survived even Anakin's turn into the dark side.
Which had done little for his sleep. Obi-Wan rose from the sleep-couch and silently donned his robe. Anakin had been his student; his companion and his most intimate friend since Qui-Gon had left him. Obi-Wan felt certain that Anakin was not a lost cause. He could be turned back to the light.
Qui-Gon would never have let him turn to the dark side in the first place.
Obi-Wan walked slowly to the cockpit of the transport, pondering.
Anakin could not have turned utterly to evil, because their mindlink remained. Of course, who knew if that meant anything? But surely there was still some good in him. Surely young Anakin Skywalker, of the touseled blond hair and the happy smile, could not have been eliminated completely. Yes, he had turned into a brooding adolescent, quiet and sullen, but the little blond child as Obi-Wan had first known him was surely deep inside. Surely.
And if he will not turn?
If Anakin would not turn back to the light, Obi-Wan understood that he was walking into the waiting arms of death. But there was no escaping it. He had to try to turn Anakin back, before it was too late. /Do, or do not. There is no try./
So Obi-Wan would do. He had to. It was his responsibility. To himself, to Anakin, to Qui-Gon, and to the galaxy.
He smiled bitterly into the empty darkness of the cockpit. He would finish what he had started. Somehow.
*
Obi-Wan searched the Force for Anakin, and it led him to a darkened, empty hangar bay. The boy was waiting for him.
Anakin had dressed in a black jumpsuit. His light hair was touseled, and he looked as innocent as he had the day he'd left. Except, that is, for his eyes. They had aged a hundred years in only days.
Obi-Wan walked towards him slowly, his brown robe swishing softly against his legs. "Were you calling me?"
A quiet smile spread over Anakin's face. His features were familiar yet somehow different. Altered. His teeth were very white, visible to Obi-Wan even in the dim light. "On the contrary...you were calling me."
"Was I?" Obi-Wan said with a touch of earnestness. "What made you answer?"
Anakin came towards him, faster than Obi-Wan would have liked. His weapon slapped against his leg as he stalked his former Master. "You hope to turn me from my destiny," he said in a low, toneless voice. The barest glint of anger dwelled within it. Anakin's new alliance with evil showed fully only in his eyes, which burned with molten fury.
Obi-Wan felt cold fear steal into his chest. "This isn't your destiny, Anakin."
"Why did I come? I came to silence you." Anakin tugged out his lightsaber and snapped it on. It had looked the same as his old one, but it was a new saber; bright blood red had replaced the traditional Jedi color of the other.
Quickly, but reluctantly, Obi-Wan tossed his brown robe to the side and slowly pulled out his lightsaber. "I came to help you find yourself again," he tried. Anakin stood back a moment, studying his posture and stance.
"Anakin don't make me fight you," he said in the lowest of voices. He was not afraid, but merely sorrowful. He was not afraid to die
oh Force, to be with Qui-Gon again...
but he needed to live; to turn Anakin away from the darkness and evil that had drawn him in. He would defend himself, if necessary. Obi-Wan steeled himself; he had to succeed in this mission. He had failed once; he must not fail again. Anakin had to be redeemed.
"You shouldn't have come," Anakin answered, and his voice echoed oddly. It sounded different...and somehow wrong. It was deeper than it had been when he'd left his Mast
THE JENNY JONES SHOW
"I have a perverse sexual fetish"
Jenny: Hi, and welcome to today's show - "I have a perverse sexual fetish." Let me warn you, today's topic is on the distrubing side. We will meet three men who at first glance appear to be normal, sane, and well-educated but thier deviant addiction to the popular Internet website Slashdot.org and individual sexual perversions set them apart from you and I.
Audience: EWWWWW!
Jenny: Let us meet our first guest, Harry Knowles.
(Harry Knowles, webmaster of the popular movie rumor site Aint It Cool News, is escorted from the backstage area in a wheelchair.)
Jenny: Hello Harry. I must say, I have visited your site many times and am honored to finally speak with you. So tell us, what is your sexual perversion?
Harry: Well Jenny...I have never admitted this before...but...I'm sorry.
(Harry is obviously distraught.)
Jenny: Don't be. Does it have anything to do with your paralysis?
Harry: Yes. I once enjoyed a normal sex-life, but that changed after the accident which left me paralyised from the waist down and left me unable to orgasm.
Jenny: That's understandable
Harry: It gets worse. After hours of masturbation and ingesting dangerous amounts of amyl-nitrate, I realized only one thing gives me any semblance of carnal pleasure....
(Harry pauses.)
Harry (head in hands): I like to pour hot grits down my pants.
Audience: EWWWWW!
Jenny: Hot grits...as in the breakfast food..??
Harry (in tears): Yes. Hot grits as in warm ground corn. I like to pour them down my pants. It feels so warm, so tender...don't hate me, is it wrong for a man to do the only thing that pleasures him?
Jenny: No, no it is not. It is obvious this strains you.
Harry (smiling): Strains me? Oh heavens no! Hot grits are a wonderful lover! Oh, to feel her sweet carress on my lifeless genitals. It is that of the great muse, Natalie Portman!
Audience: WOOOOO! NATALIE PORTMAN!
Harry: Yes Jenny, I am a gritsman...and I love it!
Jenny: Well I am glad you have found some way of self-satisfaction in material objects. Our next guest, however, finds gratification only in the digital world. Signal 11, come out!
(Signal 11, posterboy karma whore of Slashdot, is escorted from the backstage area. He sits, legs crossed, in a chair next to Harry Knowles.)
(Somewhere in the audience screams of "-1, Troll" are heard. Signal 11 reaches into his pocket and withdraws a phone. The phone is solid black, save for the words "BITCHSLAP" written on it. He quickly hits the button labeled "speed dial to cmdr. taco" and converses briefly. Suddenly, the entire audience is quiet and Signal 11 smiles.)
Jenny: Hello Signal 11.
Signal 11: Hello Jenny. I am pleased to be here. Perhaps after the show we can go orchestrate e-commerce applications?
Jenny: Uhhhh....anyway, what is your sexual perversion?
Signal 11: It all stems from my inability to syndicate interactive communities properly, embrace strategic supply-chains in the correct vortals....and that I have only one testicle.
Jenny: Wow. Those buzzwords. You strike me as one Insightful, Interesting, and Informative guy!
Signal 11: No need for the praise Jenny. My mod squad is on it. Say, how about that recent merger between Bungie and Micro$oft? That's going to leverage killer e-markets!
Audience: mmmmgrgppgh
Jenny: (laughing) Ha ha ha ha! "Micro$oft" You are a true master of language Signal 11, and Funny too!
Audience: mmmmgrgppgh
(Several geeky looking men come running in from backstage. Each carries a bit of karma labeled Insightful, Interesting, Informative, and Funny. They all rush to Signal 11's side and begin showering him with karma. It is obvious he is receiveng a sexual thrill from this public attention.)
Audience: mmmmgrgppgh
Jenny: You...you...you're a karma whore!
Signal 11: Yes Jenny, I am a karma whore...and I love it! I must run to the bathroom now.
(Signa
Introduction
This HOW-TO explains how to perform Buttsex in the Linux Operating System w/Enterprise Resources (LOSER). This HOW-TO assumes basic knowledge of general Linux operation.
Preparation
Most basically, all Linux Buttsex requires is a machine running the Linux Operating System, a penis (also referred to as a "cock" or "dick"), and a willing friend. However, you benefit greatly, especially when starting out, if you posess standard Buttsex tools.
Standard Buttsex Tools
Lubricant - Slippery stuff you smear on your johnson and your friend's manpussy, to ease the transition into Buttsex mode. Vaseline will do in a pinch, but water-based lubricants such as KY Jelly and Astroglide are preferable.
Contraception - Protective barrier between your schlong and the inside of your friend's love canal. Breeders use them to prevent pregnancy, but we queer nancies usually use them to protect ourselves from the deadly AIDS virus. While some enterprising faggots have made do with plastic wrap or masking tape, there is no substitute for a latex condom. Most all condoms will do, as long as they aren't the "extra-thin" type. Some condoms are labelled as beiong superior for Buttsex, but are not necessary.
Step One -- Prepare the Anus
This step is especially important if your friend has never taken a willie in the ass before. Prepare his anus for the width and girth of your manhood with the "finger" command. It is used like so:
% finger [insert your friend's name here]
Begin with your index or middle finger, and then both middle AND index fingers, at the same time. Ten to fifteen minutes should do. If you wish, you may felate him or suck his balls, while you're fingering him.
Step Two -- Entry
Here the fun starts. Have your friend lay prone on the bed, or even better, get down "on all fours". Optionally, place a couple pillows beneath him to make him more comfortable. Now position yourself behind him, and spread his asscheeks. Apply lubricant, generously, to both your sexrod, and his pit of pleasure. It is advisable to stick your fingers partially inside in his anus, to make sure that the entire edge of the entry is covered.
Your penis must be fully erect in order to make a sucessful entry. If you are not already "hard as a rock", you may rub your penis in his asscrack, while tweaking his nipples (or stroking his cock), and saying intimidating things, such as "I am going to make you squeal like a pig, boy. Squeal, like a pig!"
When your sexstick is sufficiently engorged with blood, it is time to being entry. Place the head of your cock firmly against his brown anal starfish. Begin applying firm pressure forwards, optionally using your hand to guide your dick on a true course into sodomy. Your friend is most likely moaning in agony or yelping, and you may either ignore this, or in a snide tone, say "You like that, bitch?"
When your penis is in, move on to the next step.
Step Three -- Hardcore Assramming
This is fairly simple. Move your dick around in his ass, towards and then back, at varying speeds. If for some reason your dick pops out, put in back in, undaunted. Continue pumping and thrusting until you feel you are ready to move on to Step Four.
Step Four -- Orgasm
When ready to blow your load, use this command:
% stdout > ass
This redirects your standard output stream into your friend's pink tunnel of XXXX. Enter the command, then with one final thrust, placing the entire length of your cock inside his body. Your penis will then eject about a quart of sticky white semen, accompanied by tremendous pleasure.
Step Five -- Cleanup
If you wore a condom, cleanup is simple. Remove the condom and toss it out your window. Then sop up any other jizz, anal juice, XXXX, or lubricant with Brawny(R) brand paper towels.
If you did not wear a condom, your friend will have a steady drip of cum out of his ass for the next few hours. Tell him to "buck up" and stuff some toilet paper in his underwear.
Afterward
Congra