girl: what's up?
girl: did you talk shit about me with shaun's 10 year old sister?
dookie: nope
girl: what did you tell her?
dookie: what do you care?
girl: did you hit on her?
dookie: you can't stop our love
girl: cause, its funny.
girl: and kinda twisted.
dookie: it wasn't shaun's sister
dookie: it was shaun
girl: ok
dookie: i'm not stupid
dookie: =)
girl: anyway
dookie: anyway
girl: i went out with him.
girl: EW
girl: gasp
dookie: ug
dookie: h
girl: i know.
girl: and he tried to ask me out again the next day
dookie: but anyway
girl: ?
dookie: i hung out witht he girl i like last night
girl: lol
girl: yeah, i hung out w/ my mother
dookie: we were hanging out in my apartment, for like 5 hours, alone, watching movies, in the dark
girl: im cool
girl: hmmmm.
dookie: and i got NO SUGAR
girl: what does that say to you?
girl: cause i sure as hell know what it says to ME
dookie: i've decided that she probably "just wants to be friends"
girl: lol
dookie: and it's gay
dookie: and i hate her
girl: did you try and get her to give you some sugar?
girl: as you say...
dookie: no, i really didn't try
girl: then?!
girl: not every woman is a how
girl: ho
dookie: though I consciously made ample opportunities for her to jump me
girl: like?
girl: did you guys even hold hands?
dookie: and after we've been hanging out quite a bit, if she likes me, then she should have jumped me
dookie: no
girl: wtf
girl: come one
girl: on
girl: did you try to hold her hand?
girl: you want the poor girl to make all the moves?
dookie: kinda sorta-a
dookie: yes
girl: that's never gonna happen
dookie: no, seriously
dookie: i tried
dookie:...
girl: well, perhaps im just speaking about myself.
girl: i will never never never make the first move, ever.
dookie: i think that she's a lot like you
girl: and it cannot just be a damn suggestion
girl: you have to fucking grab my hand.
dookie: but i was trying to be a whole lot more touchy-feely than i usually am
girl: and caress it.
girl: well, then, that's good.
dookie: all this while trying not to be creepy
girl: aom
dookie: so whatever
girl: ain't anybody a whole lot like me.. im me and that's that.
dookie: she did't pick up on it, or she just isn't interested
dookie: so i'm moving on
dookie: i say fuck it
dookie: =/
dookie: there's another girl that i like who just broke up with her bf
dookie: and she wants to hang out
dookie: so whatever
dookie: =/
girl: dude.
girl: people fucking fuck things up
girl: i just ran into this girl i know at ralphs
girl: and she was over here a week ago w/ her bf (who is fucking hot, btw and intelligent and interesting)(
girl: and rambled on and on about how they are perfect for each other, and how happy they are
girl: and today she's saying she misses her ex and wants to get back w/ him
girl: after bashing him last week
girl: WHAT IS UP
girl: can't people just be fucking happy?
dookie: i don't even know anymore
girl: how does anyone ever get married
girl: and this is bad
dookie: but i'm sure you understand my problem
girl: cause i tend to get a bit randyon sat. nights.
dookie: i really tried with this girl
girl: and im glad matt is not online
girl: or else, it would be really tempting right now.
girl: what do you mean yo u really tried
girl: you didn't even hold her damn hand
dookie: fuck that
girl: huh?
dookie: no, whatever
girl: the ideal man is rivers cuomo
girl: im telling you im convinced.
dookie: i've had bad experiences with girls that involved my hand-holding
girl: pinkerton should be called songs from annie's damn life
girl: like?
girl: i always let guys hold my hand
dookie: i don't wanna get into i
dookie: t
dookie: ya, but that's you
girl: even if i don't want to
girl: im nice.
girl: but i won't answer their calls afterward
dookie: i don't care. i really don't. i want to distance myself from this chick, and she can call me if she's interested
dookie: i'm not gonna bother anymore
girl: lol
girl: i don't understand this, but i guess you don't want me to, so ok
dookie: i figured i was blunt enough by asking her to hang out on friday night ALONE with me
girl: lol
girl: ok, seriously though.
girl: i feel that perhaps i am bi
girl: because
girl: i don't know.
girl: i am attracted to boys.
girl: but im attracted to girls in another way.
dookie: and if she's so dense/square that she didn't pick up on the fact that i'm hot for her butt, then whatever
girl: lol
girl: i don't think id ever sleep with a girl or kiss a girl
girl: but im so sick of the way boys treat girls
girl: its annoying.
dookie: oh whatever
girl: i don't like playing games
dookie: am i playing games?
girl: i cannot read their minds, and its much easier to tell what a girl is thinking vs. a boy
girl: not with me
dookie: but you're a girl
girl: i don't deal with you personally or even on a daily basis.
dookie: it's a different kind of think
girl: yes, but im assuming we will not be dating or any such think like that
dookie: *thing
girl: so you're different
dookie: pshhhh
girl: because you live far away.
girl: and also
dookie: i'm gonna raid your ass when you come to visit boston
girl: ive never met you
dookie: i told you that before
girl: lol
girl: im not a cheap ho like that.
dookie: oh whatever
dookie: i'll hold your hand
girl: oh, so you're saying
girl: that if i come there
girl: you will not hesitate to do whatever it is you want
girl: without looking for any signs of approval?
dookie: you know that's not what i mean
dookie: it's just a figure of speech
girl: awww.
dookie: but...
girl: yes well.
dookie: you're a shit-load more compatible and interesting that most of the girls i meet here
dookie: so take that for what you like
girl: well i guess that's a compliment of sorts
dookie: even if you're mildly ugly, i'd tag ya =)
girl: ok
girl: fuck you
girl: im not ugly
dookie: hehe
dookie: i know
girl: that's why i think its a compliment that you said what you just said
girl: cause most of the time im paranoid that a boy just wants to hand out for physical reasons.
dookie: no no,
girl: some people do not mind, but i think that the biggest insult ever.
girl: i get very offended.
dookie: i'd put it in your butt just for sentimental reasons
girl: ok
girl: im not into sodomy
dookie: it's fun in good measure
girl: why is it that every guy i meet through shaun or jeni is into ass-rape
girl: all butt-pirates in disguise.
dookie: yarr
dookie: !
girl: alright
girl: well ive had my share of disgust for one night
girl: see ya
dookie: hehe
dookie: okies
dookie: but seriously
Auto response from girl: note: you don't really need to have a girl to sodomize, interpret that however you'd like, you damn ass-pirates.
dookie: i need your thoughts
dookie: should i really give up on girl_interest?
girl: no
girl: not if you like her
girl: if you like her
dookie: i do
girl: i mean
girl: she did come and hang out w/ you
girl: you dork
girl: so
dookie: but UGH
girl: maybe she thought that since you were inviting her to be alone with you
dookie: wtf
girl: you'd also try and hold her hand
girl: maybe she was confused about why you didn't
dookie: but she was being all weird
dookie: and WE WERE DRINKING
girl: oooh
girl: there's not fucking excuse
girl: EVEN I
dookie: so i'd think that she wouldn't be so fucking inhibited
girl: make the first move if i've been drinking w/; a guy
girl: no way.
girl: perhaps she does not find you attractive
girl: i don't know
dookie: ya, so now you agree with me
girl: especially if you've been drinking
girl: and there's nobody else around.
girl: oh no
dookie: i mean, after last night i was like "UGH. wtf."
girl: i'd be liable to lose my virginity under those circumstances
girl: if i liked the guy
dookie: exactly
girl: so
girl: yeah
girl: move on
dookie: and i totally didn't act creepy and try anything...
dookie: ON PURPOSE
dookie: just because i figured that in that situation, if she liked me, she had everything going for her
dookie: so there's no excuse not to jump me
girl: yeah
girl: i agree
dookie: =(
dookie: i hate girls
girl: sorry im being honest.
girl: be gay!
dookie: not quite yet
dookie: i have a couple more prospects to try out
girl: lol
girl: do you even WANT a girlfriend?
girl: i mean
girl: cause
girl: sometimes i fool myself into thinking that's what i want
girl: when really it isn't at all
dookie: i think i really do
dookie: i haven't had one in a looooooong time
dookie: and i'm really not the person who randomly hooks up
girl: but come on
dookie: at least i've tried to not do that lately
girl: you'd have to like commit to them and whatnot
dookie: i'm fine with that
girl: that would be hard.
girl: you'd have to be there for them.
dookie: i have no problem with that if the girl is up to my standards
girl: you'd have to care.
girl: wtf
girl: argh.
dookie: and that's a lot more personality than body
girl: well... yes.
girl: but
girl: ive learned that all the boys say that.
dookie: i couldn't be going out with an annoying shallow bitch
girl: but they don't really mean it
dookie: i'd put it in her butt, but nothing long-term
dookie: this other girl i like is really really cool and nice
girl: what the hell are your "standards" anyway?
dookie: and she's absolutely beautiful
girl: i feel that i need a boyfriend.
girl: im sick of all this
dookie: she doesn't have a "perfect bod," but she has this adorable mediterranean figure
girl: trying to get as many guys as i can to like me
dookie: she's got a bit of a booty, but it looks really really nice
girl: lol
dookie: and she has great style, and she's really intelligent
dookie: i have a bit of a thing for her ever since i met her
girl: well then, there you go
dookie: and last time i talked to her, she told me she broke up with her bf
girl: what's this girls name
dookie: and she asked me to call her this weekend to hang out
dookie: "NAME"
dookie: she's... fucking great
girl: then.
girl: call
dookie: i did
girl: and?
dookie: she's out of town tonight
girl: lol
girl: ok
girl: so now i need your thoughts
dookie: and at least this girl gives me hugs and stuff
dookie: and isn't all dense
girl: say you had a gf
girl: for a year
girl: and you starting "loving" her
girl: or whatever the fuck that is
girl: and
girl: then
girl: she didn't really show any love back
girl: and then
girl: you found out she was gay
girl: so she's gay, and you're thinking she's the one you HAVE to be with for the rest of your life
dookie: meh..
girl: is three months enough time to get over that?
dookie: sucks to be me, huh?
girl: yeah
girl: well i know a guy that this happened to
dookie: if you're truly "in love," i don't think you can ever get over that
girl: so, would you be able to fake attractiong/kindness toward someone else
girl: to validate your emotions as a "male"
girl: after being dumped for a girl by the one you love
dookie: especially if you lose the person to "the gay"
dookie: i mean, you'd have to move on for your own good
dookie: but if you don't just thow the word "love" around, then you'll "love" the person as long as they're alive
dookie: and i'm very strict about using that word
dookie: personally
dookie: =/
girl: lolq
girl: i think im not gonna talk to people for a while
girl: i cannot deal with all this
girl: id rather just fucking solve hw problems
dookie: but then again, if the girl pulls a 180' and is a total bitch, then it might be time to reconsider your loyalties
girl: its a lot less personal
girl: i always question motives too much.
girl: i think everyone's out to get me sometimes.
girl: you know, when you think you have your life in order or whatever
girl: things seem to be going alright
girl: i know its all gonna come crashing down soon.
girl: for no reason at all.. just becuase it needs to balance out.
girl: ive scared you. please ignore the comments made. ive share too much.
girl: shared
girl: anyway, gotta go do some studying
"So tonight you'll tell me about mommy?" asked the child, holding the golden retriever plush as she always did, looking up to the tall form of her father as he lit the candles on her birthday cake with a long kitchen match.
"Tonight, I promise, angel." Abe answered, gazing down at the radiant form of his daughter as he lit the last of the ten candles, playfully mussing her long golden hair. "Close your eyes and make a wish.
Sea green eyes closed, as the child blew, extinguishing the flames in one breath.
"You did it, honey!" Abe exclaimed as he removed the candles from the cake, cutting the first slice for his little girl.
It was later that night, as the child lay back in her bed, surrounded by plush animals and nestled warmly to Spot, the golden retriever. "So... What happened to mommy?" Kendri repeated, lying back against the pillows, her eyes meeting her father's.
"I told you I'd tell you the truth tonight, sweetie, and that's what I'm going to do. "It began on the night of your birth, Kendri, ten years ago."
---
The wind whipped through the trees as the adherents surrounded the bound young woman as she pulled at her bonds, tied spread-eagle on the altar of stone. She was bound with straps of leather, and a soft piece of cloth muffled her faint cries. Her flawless olive skin glistened with musky oils doled liberally over her body, which gleamed in the flickering torchlight. The excess sweetness dribbled from her heels and long, dark oil-matted hair as she struggled against her bonds, staining the granite slab she lay upon.
Abe slowly approached the altar, the woman. He stood between her spread legs for a long moment as a slender, pale redheaded girl slipped to her knees before him, taking his penis into her mouth and nursing on him, letting him grow erect within her mouth. The girl released him from her mouth and then pressed her heavy breasts about his throbbing, sodden hardness, keeping him warm, keeping him hard, keeping that shaft enveloped in warm, yielding, female flesh.
"Brothers and sisters." Abe spoke, gazing out to the nude forms on the outskirts of the clearing, entire families nestled close; parents and their children looking on. "Our clan was almost extinct, almost completely assimilated into humankind." He slipped a pair of fingers into the sex of the bound woman before him, fingers pressing deep into tight, secret heat, drawing a gasp of surprise and a muffled whine from the captive. "Xiomaro Sangre lies before me. The Sangres are - or were - hunters." he explained, drawing forth fingers dripping with female musk and scented oil. "Their kind exterminated ours, leaving we few behind. Over the years, their calling passed into iniquity as their bloodline, too, was thinned, their calling forgotten." He reached to massage the sole of Xiomaro's right foot, smiling slyly as her green eyes burned in hatred. "She ran her family business in Brazil, a chemical company that raped the very Earth her kind drew strength from - and with !
that bond broken, she is reduced to this."
Abe reached to paint the belly of the redhead before him with Xiomaro's musk, her head lowering as she accepted the blessing. "Let our foe's bloodline be tainted tonight. Let our blood, our kind grow strong again."
The redheaded female before him slowly, almost reluctantly, let his malehood slip from where it lay nestled between her breasts. She fluidly slipped to his left, and kissed his shaft as she guided it forward, thick maleness slowly penetrating, parting tight netherlips, vanishing into the heat of the sex of his ancestral enemy.
Abe paused for a long moment, as ceremony dictated, feeling the tightness of Xiomaro's pussy bearing down on his shaft. He slipped atop her, toned muscle gliding, lubricated by the warm oil over the woman's curves, then quickly fell into a fast rhythm as he took his pleasure with the woman. Abe was not gentle in his rape - he squeezed at handfuls of breastflesh as his hips slapped Xiomaro's, his long red hair flowing behind him as his nails dragged over the oil-sodden woman's shapely sides, his own muscled form glistening in the torchlight as the everpresent oil covered his body.
His redheaded companion slipped silently back to her family, embracing her mother and father and little brother. She leaned to kiss her father as never before, tongue slipping against his as his hands moved to her breasts. The little boy curled close to his mother, held warmly in her arms as he nursed from her warm breast as he did as a babe. His mother's gentle touch enveloped his tiny shaft and undescended balls, lovingly coaxing the six year old to his first erection. All about them, the clearing was filled with a display of forbidden lust; Two young boys held their mother, as their slender shafts rode her warm, tight pussy in unison, a father embracing his baby girl tight to himself, delighting in her squeals as a gentle finger rubbed her miniature clit. Fathers nursed on the tiny shafts of their sons, mothers arched their backs as their slickened pussies slipped against their daughters' hairless folds; all taboo had been forgotten in that moment.
Abe's head threw back, and he howled, body trembling all over as he embraced his captive. His thick malehood throbbed inside her, the first few thick jets of seed pulsing forth, filling her. Time seemed to slow as he squeezed the woman to him, his howl continuing as thick blood red fur erupted from the naked flesh of his skin, muscle tone improving tenfold as he embraced his captive. His issue became thinner, hotter, spilling copiously within her in a quantity no human could ever produce, twin bulbs swelling forth at the base of his now-tapered cock to lock him to Xiomaro. A waiting ova deep within the woman's body was met by the flood of canid semen; her woman's eyes, clenched shut since the beginning of her ordeal flew open, their brilliant greenness changed to eyes of gold.
Xiomaro's back arched violently as legs grew muscular, enwrapping that what was a man, now a manwolf, bestial and naked, his massive prick buried within her insanely stretched pussy. She screamed into her gag as her hair spilled from her head, years of growth happening in seconds, short blondeness becoming a long, gray mane, the same thick grayness bursting from her skin. Her screams of agony became howls of ecstasy as the Hunter became the Beast, gag tearing away as her face pressed out into a lupine muzzle. Xiomaro's tongue licked feverishly at Abe's as the oil burned from their bodies in a nimbus of energy, purifying them in an unconsuming fire.
The orgy of young and old intensified as humanity was forsaken, the families uniting as flesh shifted, becoming a pack of werewolves, the old blood manifesting as the multitude of malehoods throbbed as one, brothers inseminating mothers, fathers filling their daughters with the product of their animalistic lust. Dozens of heads turned to the altar as Abe slowly pulled his spent shaft from his vessel, as his tongue laved gently over the black lips of the woman made his mate. His paws caressed her belly, leathered palms massaging the soft flesh beneath the thick pelt. Xiomaro's belly slowly swelled and hardened under the massage, her furred breasts swelling heavy, beads of milk welling at her nipples as months of gestation passed in mere minutes.
The she-wolf screamed as her body spasmed with labor, her male lowering his paws to her sex as her birthwaters spilled over them, a tiny new life escaping from the confines of her body in mere minutes. Abe held aloft a human babe, slickened with birth blood and with her cord still binding her to her mother. Dozens of howls rose as one to the moon, praising their goddess Luna at the sight of the child.
---
Abe smiled and leaned down to kiss Kendri's cheek as she met her father's eyes, a shiver trembling through her body. Motes of gold shone in her eyes as she reached for her father, Spot all but forgotten.
Kendri held close to her father as he opened her pajama top, sighing softly as his hands slipped over her chest, her belly; his thumbs slipping into the elastic of her bottoms and pulling them down. The child arched her back as she needfully pulled her father's shirt up, and Abe obligingly removed it as he lay back, tugging down his jeans as his daughter straddled his waist as best she could.
"It's so warm..." murmured Kendri, hugging her father to herself as her ears pointed, shifting atop her head, her blackening, emerging claws slipping over her father's muscular chest. She moaned in pleasure as soft, leathered pads slid forth from both the palms of her hands and the soles of her feet, her toes curling as she arched to him, baby fat melting away and replaced by a firm, muscled gymnast's body. Her bushy tail slid forth, whipping through the air in delirious pleasure. Golden eyes fixed to her father's as her growing mane billowed behind her, soft and long and greyfurred like that of her mother.
"Finally awake, little Kendri." Abe murmured with a smile as he gave his little girl's rear a gentle squeeze. She responded by wrapping a leathered palm about his shaft, squeezing it, caressing it with an ancestral knowledge, feeling it grow thick and hard and guiding it to her soft, still-furless sex.
"Tomorrow, little girl, we hunt." whispered Abe as his eyes closed, sinking into the delicious sweetness of his own kind mixed with those of his former enemy, sweet, young tight pussyflesh accommodating him in spite of his size. The tiny contradiction of wolf and wolf hunter made flesh rose and fell on daddy's fat prick as the first soft howl rose from her throat, praising goddess Luna in exultation - it would be soon when she would have a pack of her own kind to run with.
BRITNEY SPEARS MEETS MARVIN THE MARTIAN
by Hamster
A huge metallic disc approached earth at an incredible speed, with the
amazing abilities of a gravity defying design, the ship slowed drastically
after entering the atmosphere and changed tragictory 180 degrees in mid
air. In mid-flight the metallic UFO stopped then slowly decended to earth.
It landed outside a small town in northern Luisiana.
The door of the large metal ship opened and an escalater telescoped its
way down to the ground.
Marvin (the Martian) took the escalater down to terra-ferma.
A mechanical arm came down from the ship and handed Marvin a note.
"Dear Agent Marvin,
Your mission is to capture a female earth creature and mate with her,
then bring her to Mars so that we may have the product of that union.
-Martian High Council
P.S.-Thank you for the cookies."
"Oh, how delightful." Marvin commented.
A second metallic arm sprung from the ship. This time the arm deposited
a wooden crate on the ground in front of the Martian.
The front of the crate popped open allowing a green martian dog to step
out. The dog saluted Marvin with one of his green floppy ears. He the
reached under his helmet with this same ear and produced a note.
"Dear captain,
Agent K-9 reporting as ordered."
"Oh K-9, our mission is to kidnap and mate with an earth woman. isn't
that simply delightful? Come along now we must find an earthling female."
The pair strolled through the woods and before long they came across an
attractive blonde earth female who was drinking a V8 Splash. She wore white
silk pants and a white t-shirt.
Marvin and K-9 approached the female together.
"Uhh whats up, dude?" She asked in her southern accent.
"I am Marvin the martian and this is my subordinate, K-9. We have come
to earth seeking an earth female to impregnate, now dosn't that sound
delightful?." He asked.
"Oh hello, I'm Britney. Sorry I can't talk but I have a picnic to go to.
Good luck with that whole impregnation thing."She said tossing aside her
now empty V8 bottle and began walking away.
"Oh my goodness K-9, do you suppose all earth females act like that?"
Marvin asked.
K-9 shrugged.
Marvin stepped up behind Britney and tapped her on the shoulder.
"Pardon me, but you are coming to Mars and I'm gong to impregnate you."
Marvin informed her.
Britney raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.
"And suppose I don't want to go to Mars and be impregnated?" She asked.
Marvin took out his disintigrater and obliterated a boulder.
"Eep!" Britney's eyes widened in terror and her jaw hung slack.
She made dash for bottom the flying saucer's escalater that left a dust
cloud in her wake.
She put a conducters hat on began to ring a cow bell.
"ALL ABOOOOOOOOOOOARD, flying saucer leaving for Neptune, Pluto, Your
Anus, and Mars."She announced.
Marvin and K-9 rushed to the escalater, not wanting to miss the trip.
"Hurry, hurry you don't want to miss your trip" Britney said as she
shood the alien pair onto the space ship.
The escalater retracted back into the ship. With a hum and a whoosh the
ship took off into the sky. It zoomed past the moon and made a b-line
for Mars. Just before entering the atmosphere of the red planet it
stopped. It zoomed back the way it came and landed in the spot it had
taken off from a few minutes before. Marvin and K-9 descended the
escalater.
Marvin stepped up to Britney, huffing and puffing with rage, his fists
where balled up at his sides.
"Oooo you have made me very angry." He said.
"Calm down shorty, look its not that I don't want to go to Mars with
you. I do, really. Its just that I dont want to get involved in no
mutiny" Britney leaned in and whispered something into Marvin's ear as
pointed to K-9.
K-9 raised his ear and leaned in a bit trying to hear what was said.
When she finished explaining both she and Marvin both looked at K-9
angrilly.
Marvin whipped out his disintegrater and fired a blast at K-9. The
Martian dog jumped into his helmet to avoid the burst.
K-9 waved a white flag in one ear while handing Marvin a note with the
other.
"Dear Marvin,
What have I done?
- K-9" The note read.
"Let that be a lesson to you. I shall have no Mutiny I aboard my ship."
Marvin said angrilly.
Marvin turned to see that Britney was running away at full speed.
Marvin unslung a second weapon. This one fired a straight jacket that
wrapped itself snuggly around Britney's sexy body.
several minutes later, aboard Marvin's ship...
"Now when I remove this straight jacket, you are going to mate with me
Earthling. And I'll have no funny buisness." Marvin said.
"Who me? I've been looking forward to this." Britney lied with an
innocent look on her face.
"Oh goodey!" Marvin said, clapping his hands together enthusiastically.
Marvin released the straps on Britney's straight jacket.
Britney decided to cooperate, for the time being.
She removed her top non-chalantly, this elicited the appropriate
response from Marvin. The Martian's eyes bugged out and his tongue hung
out as he stared at her naked tits.
Britney unzipped her pants and let them fall to her ankles. She then
pulled her panties down to reviel her stunning pink pussy lips.
Marvin was mesmerised.
Britney smiled and got on all fours.
Marvin reached under his kilt and pulled out his hardening martian
man-meat.
The martian stood behind Britney and put his cock head to the singer's
juicey wet cunt.
Marvin grabbed a hold of her hips and began pumping her with a steady
rythem.
"Mmm mmm mmm oh oh oh yes." Britney moaned.
Britneys tits swayed forward and back as she pushed against his
strokes. Marvin leaned forward and reached under her chest so he could
squeeze her ripe tits as he fucked her. His finger dug into the firm
flesh of her large tits as she masterfully tightened her pussy over his
cock.
Britney's chest tightened and she sharply took in air. She came to an
orgasm, biting her lip to stop from screaming. Her girl cum splashing
all over his cock.
Marvin slid his cock out of Britney's sloppy wet pussy and slid it into
her tight ass hole. There was a slurpy, sloshy sound as he banged
Britney in the back door with his cum girl-splattered dick.
"Mmm rrrr" Britney moaned with discomfort.
Marvin released Britney's tits and took took squeezing her shapely butt
cheeks. Marvin ruthlessly pounded her ass faster and faster. Soon
enough he felt an orgasm welling up inside him.
"Oh goodness YES!" He cried as shot his load with an audible splat.
Marvin fell backwards, dizzy. Little birds circled his head.
"Oh goodness that was so delightfull." He said dizzilly.
When he finally regained his composure and his vision cleared all he
saw was the barrel of his own disintegrater gun aimed at him.
"Change in flight plans." Britney said with a smile.
Christina Aguilera yawned. Britney was a half hour late for their
picnic. She had the nice large blanket laid ot for them as well as a
basket full of food and a portable CD player with both their last CDs.
Christina picked up a rock and flung it as she could.
This was the first time she'd ever been stood up, and she didn't like
it.
Suddenly she heard a strange humming sound. Strange green lights
swirled around her.
She was very surprised to look up and see a UFO hovering above her. A
huge door opened in the ships side allowing an escalater to slide down
to the ground.
Christina was VERY surprised to see Britney coming down the escalater
to the ground in front of her. Britney was even more suprisingly,
completely naked!
Sure it was a big time saver, but it was kind of wierd.
"Sorry I'm late, but I got tied up." Britney said.
"Oh," Christina said,"Well I have a cell phone, hello."
"OK, OK, I said I was sorry. I'll make it up to you" Britney smiled.
Christina cracked a smile, "You sure will."
Christina pressed her-self against Britney's hot bod struck her tongue
between the other blonde's lips. As the two sexy singers grappled with
each other's moist tongues Christina took the apportunity to squeeze
Britney's firm butt cheeks.
Britney helped Christina strip her cloths off so that the horney pair
could really get down to buisness.
Christina reached into her picnic basket and pulled out her strap-on
dildo. Britney obligingly put it on.
Christina laid down on her back and raised her mid section slightly
in the air. Britney got on her knees in front between Christina's legs.
Britney put the tip of the dildo to Christina's pussy. Christina
wrapped her legs around Britney's waist and Britney took hold of
Christina's hips. With Britney thrust forward to begin fucking
Christina with incredible energy and enthusiasm.
Christina shook with each thrust her arms flailing wildly, until she
decided to reach up and grap Britney's firm melons for support.
Christina cried out loubly as her slim body shook with a satsfyingly
strong orgasm.
Britney pulled out and Christina laid back limp and gasping. Britney
unstrapped the dildo and lay atop her friend.
"Whew!" Christina huffed,"That was fantastic!"
"Thanx, hey I got a space ship wanna go shopping on Mars?"
Marvin grumbled unhappily as he gave the cashier his credit card.
Britney had a disintegrater casually pointed at his head.
"Are you two quite done I have almost maxed out my card!!!" Marvin
whined.
"No, we still gotta go to the W.B. store. And we should go to the food
court and get a couple of Pepsis." Britney said.
"Cokes" Christina corrected.
Marvin sighed and lowered his head saidly as he was made to carry
everything the two popstars bought.
2.5 million B.C.: OOG the Open Source Caveman develops the axe and releases it under the GPL. The axe quickly gains popularity as a means of crushing moderators' heads.
100,000 B.C.: Man domesticates the AIBO.
10,000 B.C.: Civilization begins when early farmers first learn to cultivate hot grits.
3000 B.C.: Sumerians develop a primitive cuneiform perl script.
2920 B.C.: A legendary flood sweeps Slashdot, filling up a Borland / Inprise story with hundreds of offtopic posts.
1750 B.C.: Hammurabi, a Mesopotamian king, codifies the first EULA.
490 B.C.: Greek city-states unite to defeat the Persians. ESR triumphantly proclaims that the Greeks "get it".
399 B.C.: Socrates is convicted of impiety. Despite the efforts of freesocrates.com, he is forced to kill himself by drinking hemlock.
336 B.C.: Fat-Time Charlie becomes King of Macedonia and conquers Persia.
4 B.C.: Following the Star (as in hot young actress) of Bethelem, wise men travel from far away to troll for baby Jesus.
A.D. 476: The Roman Empire BSODs.
A.D. 610: The Glorious MEEPT!! founds Islam after receiving a revelation from God. Following his disappearance from Slashdot in 632, a succession dispute results in the emergence of two troll factions: the Pythonni and the Perliites.
A.D. 800: Charlemagne conquers nearly all of Germany, only to be acquired by andover.net.
A.D. 874: Linus the Red discovers Iceland.
A.D. 1000: The epic of the Beowulf Cluster is written down. It is the first English epic poem.
A.D. 1095: Pope Bruce II calls for a crusade against the Turks when it is revealed they are violating the GPL. Later investigation reveals that Pope Bruce II had not yet contacted the Turks before calling for the crusade.
A.D. 1215: Bowing to pressure to open-source the British government, King John signs the Magna Carta, limiting the British monarchy's power. ESR triumphantly proclaims that the British monarchy "gets it".
A.D. 1348: The ILOVEYOU virus kills over half the population of Europe. (The other half was not using Outlook.)
A.D. 1420: Johann Gutenberg invents the printing press. He is immediately sued by monks claiming that the technology will promote the copying of hand-transcribed books, thus violating the church's intellectual property.
A.D. 1429: Natalie Portman of Arc gathers an army of Slashdot trolls to do battle with the moderators. She is eventually tried as a heretic and stoned (as in petrified).
A.D. 1478: The Catholic Church partners with doubleclick.net to launch the Spanish Inquisition.
A.D. 1492: Christopher Columbus arrives in what he believes to be "India", but which RMS informs him is actually "GNU/India".
A.D. 1508-12: Michaelengelo attempts to paint the Sistine Chapel ceiling with ASCII art, only to have his plan thwarted by the "Lameness Filter."
A.D. 1517: Martin Luther nails his 95 Theses to the church door and is promptly moderated down to (-1, Flamebait).
A.D. 1553: "Bloody" Mary ascends the throne of England and begins an infamous crusade against Protestants. ESR eats his words.
A.D. 1588: The "IF I EVER MEET YOU, I WILL KICK YOUR ASS" guy meets the Spanish Armada.
A.D. 1603: Tokugawa Ieyasu unites the feuding pancake-eating ninjas of Japan.
A.D. 1611: Mattel adds Galileo Galilei to its CyberPatrol block list for proposing that the Earth revolves around the sun.
A.D. 1688: In the so-called "Glorious Revolution", King James II is bloodlessly forced out of power and flees to France. ESR again triumphantly proclaims that the British monarchy "gets it".
A.D. 1692: Anti-GIF hysteria in the New World comes to a head in the infamous "Salem GIF Trials", in which 20 alleged GIFs are burned at the stake. Later investigation reveals that many of the supposed GIFs were actually PNGs.
A.D. 1769: James Watt patents the one-click steam engine.
A.D. 1776: Trolls, angered by CmdrTaco's passage of the Moderation Act, rebel. After a several-year flame war, the trolls succeed in seceding from Slashdot and forming the United Coalition of Trolls.
A.D. 1789: The French Revolution begins with a distributed denial of service (DDoS) attack on the Bastille.
A.D. 1799: Attempts at discovering Egyptian hieroglyphs receive a major boost when Napoleon's troops discover the Rosetta stone. Sadly, the stone is quickly outlawed under the DMCA as an illegal means of circumventing encryption.
A.D. 1844: Samuel Morse invents Morse code. Cryptography export restrictions prevent the telegraph's use outside the U.S. and Canada.
A.D. 1853: United States Commodore Matthew C. Perry arrives in Japan and forces the xenophobic nation to open its doors to foreign trade. ESR triumphantly proclaims that Japan finally "gets it".
A.D. 1865: President Lincoln is 'bitchslapped.' The nation mourns.
A.D. 1901: Italian inventor Guglielmo Marcoli first demonstrates the radio. Metallica drummer Lars Ulrich immediately delivers to Marcoli a list of 335,435 suspected radio users.
A.D. 1911: Facing a break-up by the United States Supreme Court, Standard Oil Co. defends its "freedom to innovate" and proposes numerous rejected settlements. Slashbots mock the company as "Standa~1" and depict John D. Rockefeller as a member of the Borg.
A.D. 1929: V.A. Linux's stock drops over 200 dollars on "Black Tuesday", October 29th.
A.D. 1945: In the secret Manhattan Project, scientists working in Los Alamos, New Mexico, construct a nuclear bomb from Star Wars Legos.
A.D. 1948: Slashdot runs the infamous headline "DEWEY DEFEATS TRUMAN." Shamefaced, the site quickly retracts the story when numerous readers point out that it is not news for nerds, stuff that matters.
A.D. 1965: Jon Katz delivers his famous "I Have A Post-Hellmouth Dream" speech, which stated: "I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the geeks of former slaves and the geeks of former slave geeks will be able to sit down together at the table of geeks... I have a dream that my geek little geeks will one geek live in a nation where they will not be geeked by the geek of their geek but by the geek of their geek."
A.D. 1969: Neil Armstrong becomes the first man to set foot on the moon. His immortal words: "FIRST MOONWALK!!!"
A.D. 1970: Ohio National Guardsmen shoot four students at Kent State University for "Internet theft".
A.D. 1989: The United States invades Panama to capture renowned "hacker" Manual Noriega, who is suspected of writing the DeCSS utility.
A.D. 1990: West Germany and East Germany reunite after 45 years of separation. ESR triumphantly proclaims that Germany "gets it".
A.D. 1994: As years of apartheid rule finally end, Nelson Mandela is elected president of South Africa. ESR is sick, and sadly misses his chance to triumphantly proclaim that South Africa "gets it".
A.D. 1997: Slashdot reports that Scottish scientists have succeeded in cloning a female sheep named Dolly. Numerous readers complain that if they had wanted information on the latest sheep releases, they would have just gone to freshsheep.net
A.D. 1999: Miramax announces Don Knotts to play hacker Emmanuel Goldstein in upcoming movie "Takedown"
Slashdot is a website that uses the subtitle "News For Nerds. Stuff That Matters." It is the result of the work and efforts of several people, notably Rob "CmdrTaco" Malda and Jeff "Hemos" Bates. It is a fantastic site, and is one of the best places on the web for finding technology-related news. It has grown over the years, and is now owned by Andover.net (although it's still run by CmdrTaco and Hemos), but it's still a place where anybody can learn about things that are going on in the world, comment on them, and discuss them. It's a great site, and I've been checking it on a daily basis (immediately after reading e-mail) for over a year.
There has been some discussion about the site as it grows. There are always people who feel the best way to contribute to a conversation is to comment on spelling mistakes in a post, or how they submitted a link to the same story and it didn't get posted, or how it shouldn't be on Slashdot in the first place.
These people seem to forget that the site was created as a place for Rob and Jeff to talk about the things that interest them. They may not be interested by the same things as the regular readers. Hell, they may not even be interested by some of the stuff that does get posted, but they post it because many of the readers seem to enjoy it (based on the volume of comments and quality of discussion.) They've never claimed to be an on-line Wall Street Journal of technology, and they've never claimed to cater to the tastes of anyone else. This is their site. They've got some other people working on it because it's become so popular, but it hasn't really changed. (At least, it hasn't changed drastically in the time I've been reading it, and they've added a few editors in those months.) These guys are doing a damn fine job. They've created a great forum, and asked nothing in return. What do they get in return? Abuse. A lot of it.
They take abuse because they make mistakes in their English that are easy to spot and correct. So what? The vast majority of these grammatical and spelling errors don't obscure the content of the piece. Nobody's perfect; deal with it and move on. Yes, they can run it through a spelling checker, but then they'd have to deal with the creative handles used by the submitter, the technical jargon that crops up in the kinds of stories they run, and the acronyms that appear along with this jargon. A lot of correctly spelled words would be flagged with the mistakes. It's not that important.
These guys also take abuse because some people abuse the site. They have trolls, just like the ones that appear on Usenet. In my experience, there are five kinds of trolls on Slashdot.
The Fist Prost Troll.
This troll exists because the site allows people to post comments and discuss articles. However, this troll doesn't care about the article itself; he/she only cares about being the first person to post a comment in that discussion. This means that many articles begin with five or six comments that say nothing but "I got the first post! Nya nya!" Well, I say, so what? This is not a race; it's a place to have intelligent conversation with people who share your interests.
The Slashdot programmers have come up with ways to reduce these trolls. They've restricted people from posting articles with the subject "First Post," which has led to the popular "Fist Prost" misspelling. The moderation system also helps. (More on that later.) There's no way to completely remove these pests without resorting to censorship. Those who created Slashdot refuse to take this step. Great!
The Goat-Boy Troll
These guys try to sound intelligent, and offer links to a website described as informative and relevant, but when you click on the link you are sent to photos depicting people fornicating with their barnyard friends, or other such irrelevant imagery that most web surfers don't want to see. (I'm just glad I browse with images off.) I don't know what they hope to accomplish by this. I picture these people are young, immature, and stoned out of their minds. I can think of no other mental state which would let them find this amusing. (It's not even like they can see your reaction when you click the link, if you do. They don't even know if it gets clicked on at all. Unless they also administrate the site, but then they've probably got far more psychological problems than I thought...)
The Slander Troll
These people post off-topic diatrab promoting their own favorite dogma. They sometimes post long, prepared essays full of contrived events about individuals the Slashdot community considers famous, such as Linus Torvalds, Rob, Jeff, Eric S. Raymond, Richard Stallman, or other talented and well-respected individuals. Sometimes they just respond to existing, productive comments with wholly unbased and unwarranted conjectures about the original poster's sexual preferences. Still others post about the sinners of the world, and why their particular religion or cult is the only one that will save us all from the pits of Hell.
These people contribute nothing to the conversation. The moderation system usually gets them correctly labeled within minutes, allowing the rest of us to get on with the discussion. And yet, Rob and Jeff still get e-mail about these "evil" posters.
The Karma Whore
These are people who post things which can be totally fabricated, simply regurgitations of the information available, bashing individuals or companies unpopular among Slashdot readers, or any other form of redundant or pointless contribution for the purpose of collecting "karma." This is described in more detail below, but suffice it to say that those individuals who consider collecting karma to be a status symbol need to get out more, and make some friends in meatspace.
The Thinking Troll
These are the only trolls I have any respect for. Some of them aren't even trying to troll.
Some of these trolls take the time to come up with humourous comments that actually relate to the topic at hand. Others actually have the audacity to say things like "Microsoft is not completely evil." These are the ones that result in the most hate mail for Rob and Jeff. They actually post things that some people like, so the moderators don't always drag their messages to the bottom of the heap. This is because they occasionally say things that actually contribute to the conversation. (Heaven forbid!)
The Moderation System
In all five cases, the moderation system works well. The moderation system on Slashdot allows frequent posters and readers occasional privelages to promote or demote comments. You can qualify a certain post as Funny, Interesting, Informative, Redundant, Troll, Flamebait, etc. and it will be "scored" accordingly. If the adjective is positive, the comment gets a higher score. If it's a negative adjective, the comment gets a lower score. If you posted that comment, your personal "karma" points on the Slashdot records will also increase or decrease. If your posts tend to get moderated down, they will start at lower scores. If they tend to get moderated up, you start to post with higher scores. The people reading Slashdot can then choose to only read posts that have a score higher than X, to sort comments so that those with the highest scores come first, etc. The moderators rank the posts, and the users decide how much they want to read, and what they choose to ignore. The system works very well.
The problems for Rob and Jeff come in when people decide that bad decisions made by moderators are the fault of the system's creators. Some of these trolls are trolling to demonstrate their perceived flaws in the system. Guess what guys? If you don't troll, then any flaws that might exist won't matter. Some troll because they are amused by it. So what? The moderation system weeds out the absolute crap by rapidly giving it the lowest possible score. If the post isn't absolute crap, it might not get modded that low.
Rob and Jeff work hard, and do a good job. In return, people send them abusive mail because some people with computer access aren't terribly mature. Well, as far as I'm concerned, Slashdot administrators are not to blame. They are trying to design and operate a system that allows several thousand people to discuss things they are interested in, without restricting the content in any way. It is an uncensored forum, and they are trying to make it the best possible site they can with the hardware they have available. If you have a problem with the trolls on Slashdot, take it up with the trolls. Their e-mail addresses are usually available in their posts. Deal with them directly. Rob and Jeff have enough to do.
Once upon a time there was a bishounen called... umm... Dilandau, yeah, that
was his name. Well, every1 called him Little Red Prettyboy cuz he had garnet
eyes and always wore cherry red armour. Not to mention he was totally drop
dead gorgeous! He had lovely eyes, and beautiful silver hair and an unhealthy
fascination with fire... Woops, I'm rambling. Anyway, one day his... umm...
Dad (*snicker*), Dornkirk, gave him a basket and told him to take it to his
cousins, Folken (Here birdie, birdie, birdie!) and Van (*beep, beep!*).
So, Dilly took the basket and went into the creepy forest. But he wasn't
scared. Nothing scared him. He walked, and walked, and walked, and walk...
Well, I think you get the picture. Then he came across a spring.
"Boing, boing!" it said, springing away. He shrugged and continued walking
to Folken and Van's house. On his way he saw some bee's, which looked like
this: >B (A B! *snicker* That was so pathetic, I know!)
Soon he came to a river. He sat down and had some lunch.
"Oh... umm... hello," said a voice. A boy with bonde hair and blue eyes sat
down beside him. "I'm Chesta."
"Dilandau," said Dilly.
"So, where are you going, Dilandau?" asked Chesta.
"My cousins house," said Dilandau.
"Oh. Well, I gotta go. Bye!" Chesta ran off. Dilandau watched him then
shrugged.
"Weird boy," he said. "Rather cute, though." (All right, who are you and what
didja do with Dilly-chan?!) He continued on his way.
Meanwhile Chesta raced towards Folken and Van's house, visions of naked
Dilandau in his head (*drool*). He got there and found Folken and Van (*beep,
beep* Sorry, couldn't help myself!). With them was Allen, Folken's
girlfriend; and Hitomi, Van's girlfriend. (I knew it! Allen is a GIRL!) He
shoved them in the cellar and locked the door. (Eeeww... Folken and Allen...
Hmm... Could be worse, though. Could be Allen and Van doing bad things. And
Hitomi with Folken...)
Well, anyways, 3 hours later (Jeez, how long does it take for Dilandau to
walk 5 miles?) Dilandau was nearing his cousins' house. But then he saw some
pretty little bluebells. He grinned evilly and pulled a flame-thrower from
Flamespace and toasted the evil little bells that were blue. (Yay! Die you
evil blue bells, you!) 5 minutes later he was at the house, feeling better
for setting the bluebells on fire.
"Folken! Van! I'm here with your..." Dilandau looked inside the basket.
"Always Ultra!" Dilandau paled and did a double-take. He was very confused.
"Always Ultra? Isn't that the stuff women use for when they have periods?"
"It's probably for their girlfriends," said Chesta. "Your cousins are out
just now. They said they're really sorry they couldn't be here to meet you."
(Hah! Even Chesta agrees that Allen's a girl!)
"Oh, hi Chesta," said Dilandau.
"Sit down while I make some tea," said Chesta. Dilandau sat down and Chesta
made some tea (*blech!*). He gave a cup to Dilandau and sat down beside him.
They stood up again after drinking their tea. Suddenly they had the urge to
dance. Suddenly they did... the macerina! While singing the Escaflowne theme
tune.
While they were dancing they somehow became naked and and in the throws of
passion. (Okay... wunder where they got the passion fruit and the
cat-a-pult...) So, anyway, they were have mad-bunnies-on-aphrodisiac-sex.
(*drools* Naked Dilandau and Chesta... *^_~*)
So, the next day found Chesta and Dilandau curled up together, sleeping
peacfully. Dilandau held Chesta and Chesta held Dilandau. It was sweet.
Adorable, in fact. Except that they were on the couch. And sweaty from all
the sex and fore-play. (I wonder where they got the lube from?)
Suddenly Dilandau's fiance, Merle, showed up! ( *-_-* Dilly and Merle?
Eeewww!) She was really here looking for Van (*beep! beep!*) cuz she was head
over tail for him. But then she saw Dilly and Chesta and scowled ferosciously.
"DILANDAU!" she shrieked like the bitch-that-never-dies from Gundam Wing.
The 2 boys were totally startled out of their cute little slumber and fell
off the couch. Merle pulled a giant pink mallet from Malletspace and proceded
to pound Dilandau and Chesta into mash.
Meanwhile in the forest the 14 Dragon Rangers were... umm... ranging, yeah,
that's what they were doing. Well, like I said, they were running around
raving about Dragons. And making sure the forest was nice and clean, too.
When suddenly, to their utmost surprise, 2 girls appeared. Both of them had
brown hair and blue eyes. 1 of them wore a red jumper and black jeans while
the other wore a lilac T-shirt and green jeans. (Green and lilac? Oh-kay...)
"Who are you?" demanded the boy with a mop of curly hair. (Here, sheepy,
sheepy, sheepy!)
"I am Lynn God, ruler of the multiverse and creator of... umm... creation!"
cried the girl in lilac and green.
"And I am the Author, Escagirl," said the girl in red and black.
"Oh. What do you want?" asked the guy with the rose who had this 'I'm vain'
look on his face.
"Your compatriot-"
"Is that a word?" asked Escagirl.
"If it isn't, it is now. Now shut up!" said Lynn God. "Now, like I was
saying, your compatriot, Chesta, seduced the incredibly gorgeous Lord
Dilandau. Now they are being beaten to a pulp by Dilandau's cat-girl fiance."
"Chesta's being beat up! We must save him!" cried a guy with purple-ish hair.
"And Lord Dilandau, too."
"Yeah, well, that's why we're giving you this nuclear bomb," said Escagirl.
"Really? Cool!" cried the sheep-boy. (Isn't that out of character for
Guimel?) They took the nuclear bomb and ran off for Folken and Van's (*beep,
beep!*) house.
"Was that wise, O Great Ones?" asked Raphael, the only loose angel.
"Sure. The bomb will only destroy Merle. It will also give Dilandau a really
big flame-thrower that he can use to toast that nasty draconian boy, Van. Or
'beep, beep' as Esca-chan keeps calling him," said Lynn God. They disappeared.
The 14 Dragon Rangers ran into the house and stopped at what they saw. Most
of them ran off, blood mysteriously spraying from their noses. (Naughty,
naughty!) All that was left was the vain dude, the sheep boy, uh... the
weirdly loyal dude, the messanger boy, and... uh... the one we never see in
the show.
Guimel, the sheep boy, pulled out the pin in the nuclear bomb and handed it
to Merle.
"What's this?" she asked.
"It's a rare and exotic fruit from the Mystic Moon, lovely Merle. You eat it
whole to get it's full effects," said Dalet, the vain dude.
"Oh. You're sweet." Merle, the niave and annoying little brat, ate the bomb
in 1 big swallow. Suddenly she was blown into smithereens. All yelled 'Yay!'.
Suddenly Folken (Here birdie, birdie, birdie!), Van (*beep, beep!*), Allen
(Die!) and Hitomi (Witch!) came rushing into the room. They stopped and
stared at the naked Dilandau and Chesta. (Ecchi's!) Van, Folken and Allen
fainted, blood leaking from their noses. (Naughty, naughty, naughty!) Hitomi
grinned suddenly.
"Hey, Dilandau, Chesta, wanna have a 4-some with me and Van sometime? Or
just a 3-some with me?" she asked. The Dragon Rangers and Dilandau fainted
from shock. "What'd I say?" Hitomi asked in bemusement.
Guess you're wunderin' why that giant flame-thrower never showed up, ain't
ya? Well, it was kidnapped by fire-crazed fire sprites who worshipped
Dilandau. *^_^*
~OWARI~
Dilly: I want my chocolate!
Chesta: *giggles, staring into the stars* Dilandau, Dilandau, where for art
thou Dilandau?
Gatti: Chesta, you do know that 'where for art thou Dilandau?' means 'why's
your name Dilandau?', don't ya?
Chesta: *blushes* Oh. *-_-*
Dilandau: I'm right here, and my name's Dilandau cuz it is.
Viole: Why?
Dilandau: Cuz that's the name I was given at birth.
Viole: Why?
Dilandau: Beacause they heard voices!
Viole: Why?
Dilandau: *>_* SHUT THE FUCK UP! *slaps Viole*
Viole: *dazed* Oooh, lookit all the pretty pink flowers doing the macerina...
Yt another crippling bombshell hit th beleaguered *BSD community when last month IDC confirmed that *BSD accounts for less than a fraction of 1 percent of ll servers. Coming on the heels of the latest Ntcraft survey which plainly states that *BSD has lost more market share, this news serves to reinforce what we've known all along. *BSD is collapsing in complete disarray, as further exemplified by failing dead last in th recent Sys Admin comprehensive networking test.
You don't need to be a Kreskin to predict *BSD's future. The hand writing is on the wall: *BSD faces a bleak future. In fact there won't be any future at all for *BSD because *BSD is dying. Things are looking very bad for *BSD. As many of us are already aware, *BSD continues to lose market share. Red ink flows like a river of blood. FreeBSD is the most endangered of them all.
Let's keep to the facts and look at the numbers.
OpenBSD leader Theo states that there are 7000 users of OpenBSD. How many users of NetBSD are there? Let's see. The number of OpenBSD versus NetBSD posts on Usenet is roughly in ratio of 5 to 1. Therefore there are about 7000/5 = 1400 NetBSD users. BSD/OS posts on Usenet are about half of the volume of NetBSD posts. Therefore there are about 700 users of BSD/OS. A recent article put FreeBSD at about 80 percent of the *BSD market. Therefore there are (7000+1400+700)*4 = 36400 FreeBSD users. This is consistent with the number of FreeBSD Usenet posts.
Due to the troubles of Walnut Creek, abysmal sales and so on, FreeBSD went out of business and was taken over by BSDI who sell another troubled OS. Now BSDI is also dead, its corpse turned over to yet another charnel house.
All major surveys show that *BSD has steadily declined in market share. *BSD is very sick nd its long term survival prospects are very dim. If *BSD is to survive at all it will be among OS hobbyist dabblers. *BSD continues to decay. Nothing short of a miracle could save it at this point in time. For ll practical purposes, *BSD is dead.
BRITNEY SPEARS MEETS MARVIN THE MARTIAN
by Hamster
A huge metallic disc approached earth at an incredible speed, with the
amazing abilities of a gravity defying design, the ship slowed drastically
after entering the atmosphere and changed tragictory 180 degrees in mid
air. In mid-flight the metallic UFO stopped then slowly decended to earth.
It landed outside a small town in northern Luisiana.
The door of the large metal ship opened and an escalater telescoped its
way down to the ground.
Marvin (the Martian) took the escalater down to terra-ferma.
A mechanical arm came down from the ship and handed Marvin a note.
"Dear Agent Marvin,
Your mission is to capture a female earth creature and mate with her,
then bring her to Mars so that we may have the product of that union.
-Martian High Council
P.S.-Thank you for the cookies."
"Oh, how delightful." Marvin commented.
A second metallic arm sprung from the ship. This time the arm deposited
a wooden crate on the ground in front of the Martian.
The front of the crate popped open allowing a green martian dog to step
out. The dog saluted Marvin with one of his green floppy ears. He the
reached under his helmet with this same ear and produced a note.
"Dear captain,
Agent K-9 reporting as ordered."
"Oh K-9, our mission is to kidnap and mate with an earth woman. isn't
that simply delightful? Come along now we must find an earthling female."
The pair strolled through the woods and before long they came across an
attractive blonde earth female who was drinking a V8 Splash. She wore white
silk pants and a white t-shirt.
Marvin and K-9 approached the female together.
"Uhh whats up, dude?" She asked in her southern accent.
"I am Marvin the martian and this is my subordinate, K-9. We have come
to earth seeking an earth female to impregnate, now dosn't that sound
delightful?." He asked.
"Oh hello, I'm Britney. Sorry I can't talk but I have a picnic to go to.
Good luck with that whole impregnation thing."She said tossing aside her
now empty V8 bottle and began walking away.
"Oh my goodness K-9, do you suppose all earth females act like that?"
Marvin asked.
K-9 shrugged.
Marvin stepped up behind Britney and tapped her on the shoulder.
"Pardon me, but you are coming to Mars and I'm gong to impregnate you."
Marvin informed her.
Britney raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.
"And suppose I don't want to go to Mars and be impregnated?" She asked.
Marvin took out his disintigrater and obliterated a boulder.
"Eep!" Britney's eyes widened in terror and her jaw hung slack.
She made dash for bottom the flying saucer's escalater that left a dust
cloud in her wake.
She put a conducters hat on began to ring a cow bell.
"ALL ABOOOOOOOOOOOARD, flying saucer leaving for Neptune, Pluto, Your
Anus, and Mars."She announced.
Marvin and K-9 rushed to the escalater, not wanting to miss the trip.
"Hurry, hurry you don't want to miss your trip" Britney said as she
shood the alien pair onto the space ship.
The escalater retracted back into the ship. With a hum and a whoosh the
ship took off into the sky. It zoomed past the moon and made a b-line
for Mars. Just before entering the atmosphere of the red planet it
stopped. It zoomed back the way it came and landed in the spot it had
taken off from a few minutes before. Marvin and K-9 descended the
escalater.
Marvin stepped up to Britney, huffing and puffing with rage, his fists
where balled up at his sides.
"Oooo you have made me very angry." He said.
"Calm down shorty, look its not that I don't want to go to Mars with
you. I do, really. Its just that I dont want to get involved in no
mutiny" Britney leaned in and whispered something into Marvin's ear as
pointed to K-9.
K-9 raised his ear and leaned in a bit trying to hear what was said.
When she finished explaining both she and Marvin both looked at K-9
angrilly.
Marvin whipped out his disintegrater and fired a blast at K-9. The
Martian dog jumped into his helmet to avoid the burst.
K-9 waved a white flag in one ear while handing Marvin a note with the
other.
"Dear Marvin,
What have I done?
- K-9" The note read.
"Let that be a lesson to you. I shall have no Mutiny I aboard my ship."
Marvin said angrilly.
Marvin turned to see that Britney was running away at full speed.
Marvin unslung a second weapon. This one fired a straight jacket that
wrapped itself snuggly around Britney's sexy body.
several minutes later, aboard Marvin's ship...
"Now when I remove this straight jacket, you are going to mate with me
Earthling. And I'll have no funny buisness." Marvin said.
"Who me? I've been looking forward to this." Britney lied with an
innocent look on her face.
"Oh goodey!" Marvin said, clapping his hands together enthusiastically.
Marvin released the straps on Britney's straight jacket.
Britney decided to cooperate, for the time being.
She removed her top non-chalantly, this elicited the appropriate
response from Marvin. The Martian's eyes bugged out and his tongue hung
out as he stared at her naked tits.
Britney unzipped her pants and let them fall to her ankles. She then
pulled her panties down to reviel her stunning pink pussy lips.
Marvin was mesmerised.
Britney smiled and got on all fours.
Marvin reached under his kilt and pulled out his hardening martian
man-meat.
The martian stood behind Britney and put his cock head to the singer's
juicey wet cunt.
Marvin grabbed a hold of her hips and began pumping her with a steady
rythem.
"Mmm mmm mmm oh oh oh yes." Britney moaned.
Britneys tits swayed forward and back as she pushed against his
strokes. Marvin leaned forward and reached under her chest so he could
squeeze her ripe tits as he fucked her. His finger dug into the firm
flesh of her large tits as she masterfully tightened her pussy over his
cock.
Britney's chest tightened and she sharply took in air. She came to an
orgasm, biting her lip to stop from screaming. Her girl cum splashing
all over his cock.
Marvin slid his cock out of Britney's sloppy wet pussy and slid it into
her tight ass hole. There was a slurpy, sloshy sound as he banged
Britney in the back door with his cum girl-splattered dick.
"Mmm rrrr" Britney moaned with discomfort.
Marvin released Britney's tits and took took squeezing her shapely butt
cheeks. Marvin ruthlessly pounded her ass faster and faster. Soon
enough he felt an orgasm welling up inside him.
"Oh goodness YES!" He cried as shot his load with an audible splat.
Marvin fell backwards, dizzy. Little birds circled his head.
"Oh goodness that was so delightfull." He said dizzilly.
When he finally regained his composure and his vision cleared all he
saw was the barrel of his own disintegrater gun aimed at him.
"Change in flight plans." Britney said with a smile.
Christina Aguilera yawned. Britney was a half hour late for their
picnic. She had the nice large blanket laid ot for them as well as a
basket full of food and a portable CD player with both their last CDs.
Christina picked up a rock and flung it as she could.
This was the first time she'd ever been stood up, and she didn't like
it.
Suddenly she heard a strange humming sound. Strange green lights
swirled around her.
She was very surprised to look up and see a UFO hovering above her. A
huge door opened in the ships side allowing an escalater to slide down
to the ground.
Christina was VERY surprised to see Britney coming down the escalater
to the ground in front of her. Britney was even more suprisingly,
completely naked!
Sure it was a big time saver, but it was kind of wierd.
"Sorry I'm late, but I got tied up." Britney said.
"Oh," Christina said,"Well I have a cell phone, hello."
"OK, OK, I said I was sorry. I'll make it up to you" Britney smiled.
Christina cracked a smile, "You sure will."
Christina pressed her-self against Britney's hot bod struck her tongue
between the other blonde's lips. As the two sexy singers grappled with
each other's moist tongues Christina took the apportunity to squeeze
Britney's firm butt cheeks.
Britney helped Christina strip her cloths off so that the horney pair
could really get down to buisness.
Christina reached into her picnic basket and pulled out her strap-on
dildo. Britney obligingly put it on.
Christina laid down on her back and raised her mid section slightly
in the air. Britney got on her knees in front between Christina's legs.
Britney put the tip of the dildo to Christina's pussy. Christina
wrapped her legs around Britney's waist and Britney took hold of
Christina's hips. With Britney thrust forward to begin fucking
Christina with incredible energy and enthusiasm.
Christina shook with each thrust her arms flailing wildly, until she
decided to reach up and grap Britney's firm melons for support.
Christina cried out loubly as her slim body shook with a satsfyingly
strong orgasm.
Britney pulled out and Christina laid back limp and gasping. Britney
unstrapped the dildo and lay atop her friend.
"Whew!" Christina huffed,"That was fantastic!"
"Thanx, hey I got a space ship wanna go shopping on Mars?"
Marvin grumbled unhappily as he gave the cashier his credit card.
Britney had a disintegrater casually pointed at his head.
"Are you two quite done I have almost maxed out my card!!!" Marvin
whined.
"No, we still gotta go to the W.B. store. And we should go to the food
court and get a couple of Pepsis." Britney said.
"Cokes" Christina corrected.
Marvin sighed and lowered his head saidly as he was made to carry
everything the two popstars bought.
"I don't think you realise who I am."
The PFY pauses for a minute. "Hmm...Carter, accounts. Room 402, extension 6473, date of birth June 22, 1963. Married, one child - not yours. A cider drinker. Drive a red Volvo with a faulty rear light and collect beer coasters. Your password is...ahhhhmmm."
"Something to do with fish," I hint.
"Driftnet," the PFY cries.
"Excellent," I respond, turning to our latest visitor. "Can I have a sports question please?"
"But...I..."
"No, sports," I reply firmly.
While our user wanders off, I fill out the practical section of the PFY's final exam sheet.
"Let's see. Yes, you achieved the correct amount of disorientation and demoralisation. You also get a couple of bonus points by planting the seeds of doubt with the 'not yours' comment. Now, onto the theoretical section. The hard disk on your personal machine fails out of warranty period. What would you do?"
"Swap it with the boss's so he gets it replaced immediately, then, when the new disk arrives, format the boss's old one and reinstall it in his machine."
"Yeeesss. But remember that you're being marked for proactivity too..."
"Oh of course!" the PFY blurts guiltily. "Then swap it into one of the consultants' machines so that you always have a standby disk for the future."
"Excellent. Now, you're helping users out in your spare time, when..."
The PFY laughs out loud.
"Correct. Next question: the boss has bought a piece of kit that is so old that even the engineers understand how it works. How would you get rid of it?"
"Drop it down several flights of stairs?"
"Too suspicious."
"Flick the mains switch to 115 volts for a little while?"
"He'll replace the power supply."
"Umm... I know, direct a heat gun into its cooling vents."
"Correct. Complete this statement: all power corrupts, absolute power..."
"..is even more fun!"
"Correct. Your boss and a client are plummeting towards the footpath after cornering you for two hours with their thoughts on the future of computing. Who would hit the ground first?"
"Who cares?"
"Correct. Judging solely by his attitude, how does the boss believe our network is managed?"
"By FM management."
"Be more specific."
"F***ing magic."
"Correct. How long would it take an engineer to change a flat?"
"It depends on how many replacement flats he brought with him."
"Correct. Still on that topic, an engineer happens to mention the words 'that's interesting'. What has happened?"
"Uh, he's either broken your computer, lost his screwdriver inside it somewhere, put it back together with lots of parts left over or encountered some error that he's never seen before."
"So?"
"Oh, he just says it to pass the time because he's not allowed to say 'bollocks' in the presence of a customer."
"Precisely. One of your users brings his home computer for you to fix. You..."
"Solder the circuit breaker shut, crank the voltage adjustments to full power, swap out any good memory chips for crap and install a virus on their hard disk."
"And?"
"Whoopsy - charge them mates' rates of 20 quid for your time."
"Yep. Complete this: the meek shall inherit..."
"...what they're bloody well given. And be thankful for it."
"Correct. You have scored a total of 10 out of 10 in the theoretical section, passing on none. As your final task you must generate, then deal with, 50 user complaints in two minutes. Your time starts now!"
An hour later we're observing the smoking remains of the beancounters' comms cupboard.
"Freak wiring mishap?" the PFY asks the fire investigating officer.
"Looks that way," he replies, much to the annoyance of the head beancounter, who is not as stupid as he looks. "It seems that someone had replaced the five amp plug fuse on a portable lamp with a piece of nail resulting in a small fire when the cord insulation became pierced when it got trapped in the door. Just an accident waiting to happen."
"Yes, and how particularly tragic that accounts were storing all the historic purchasing records for the IT department in this very cupboard, even though we warned them of the fire risk," I add.
"Very tragic," the PFY concurs.
Later at a pub in the heart of Soho I congratulate the PFY on his promotion to the position of 'master bastard' by buying him a lager for a change.
"So that's it then?" the PFY comments.
"IT?" I cry. "This is just the beginning. Starting tomorrow it's time for graduate studies." Even at this level, the poor guy still has so much to learn. Like how easy it is to slip a laxative into a lager for a start.
--
It's mid-afternoon, and we're in the middle of our annual 'improve the perception of IT' fortnight. Things are going just great.
The boss has a bee in his bonnet about my liberal interpretation of the promotional slogan 'delivering what the client needs'. Apparently, my helpdesk instruction sheets on how to deliver 'a damn good kicking' weren't within the intended scope of the motto...
He was in an even worse mood after the hand-proximity sensor on the line printer failed to operate while he was attempting to stop said instruction sheets from printing. The fast moving paper gave him a large and deep paper cut that he won't be forgetting in a hurry. And the PFY and I certainly don't know how that heavily salted water got into the first aid antiseptic bottle.
But his irritation began after spotting a publicity photo of one of the members of the company's football team (sponsored by the IT division) walking around with his football jersey untucked. Beautifully crafted, and costing enough to make a beancounter weep, the jerseys have a lovely little IT crest (a couple of crossed keyboards on a burning PC background, emblazoned on the left breast). The words 'IT - giving you more' are in large letters on the back. When untucked however, the words 'of a shafting' become visible. The boss was not impressed.
The PFY and I make no attempts to escape his wrath knowing full well that he has to pass the head of IT's room to get to us. He's not so keen on doing that since some complete bastard uploaded a new ring sound to the head's cellphone - a sound not dissimilar to that made by a lentil casserole after its trip through the digestive tract.
Accordingly, the IT department managers' meeting he attended this morning was a swift affair, and certainly not one that really should have been 'aired' as a live video conference and PR opportunity. Even the cafeteria staff saw it and wouldn't serve him the onion bhajis at lunchtime.
Not that I feel sorry for the boss. The whole 'improve the perception of IT' initiative was all his fault in the first place for mentioning that it 'must be about that time of the year' to the head of IT.
No-one likes these PR weeks because the bosses like to answer all those stupid user questions such as: 'Can I send 1,000 copies of my CV to the printer? Can I talk to one of your network guys for an hour or two?' and 'Do you know who set my car on fire?' with 'yes', 'yes', and 'no' instead of the far more appropriate 'not if you want to see another birthday, not if you want to see another birthday', and, 'us, we thought it was your birthday.'
But the thing that really puts the boss under the gun is that he's invoked a 'response time' clause in our contracts that was meant for call-out duties which says we have to respond within a reasonable amount of time to a user's problems.
In PR week, 'reasonable' means 10 minutes. Now perhaps the boss can have a good game of MDK in 10 minutes, but a networking professional cannot!
Sure enough, I'm just firing up MDK when the phone goes.
"Hello?"
"Yes?" I ask, expecting the worst.
"I've got a problem with my network."
Here we go...
"Hmmm?" Why waste words on these morons? They're much happier with a bit of grunting and a few soothing clucking noises.
"It's a little difficult to explain over the phone - could someone come up?"
Sigh.
I flip the PFY for it and am stunned when I lose. Then I realise that the little bastard has switched my double headed 50 pence for a double tail model.
It really does me proud to see him turning out so well.
Of course, I still won't be telling him that I removed the safety grille from the whirring blades of the cooling fan at the back of his PC, but there you go.
I get to the user's office and it's the same old thing. They moved the PC and the network stopped.
"But it never used to do that."
"No, but now that we don't use thin wire network cabling it does."
"That doesn't sound like a good move."
I manage to extricate myself an hour later (after the story about how technology was much more reliable in the 1950s) and get back to the office.
The PFY chuckles maliciously.
"He rang back - the lead's fallen out of the computer and he's scared to plug it in."
"A separate call," I cry, "that makes it your turn!"
"Toss you for it?" he asks, not understanding where the line should be drawn.
"I'll go for tails for a change."
"Bastard!" Sensibly, the PFY doesn't admit to anything.
"Oh, by the way, make sure to mention how reliable IT is nowadays, especially when compared to the 1950s..."
The PFY grumbles a bit before slouching over to the door.
"Have you seen my access card?"
"Yeah," I reply, "I needed it to get into the comms room this morning. I think it fell down the back of your PC. On the cooling fan side..."
--
It's the final week of the PR fortnight and things have calmed down. People don't call us for the 'guaranteed response' so much. Perhaps it's something to do with the type of response they're guaranteed.
The geeks in the systems department are miles ahead of networks in the popularity stakes after blatantly bribing the users by shoving a terabyte of disk at them and electronically yelling "help yourself." Nothing short of upgrading everyone to 100 Meg Ethernet is going to bring us up to their level. The systems department must be brought down.
The terabyte of disk space is the first to go - about 20 in-depth 'treatments' with the rapid-freeze spray then the heat-gun along the drive electronics is sufficient to introduce the fabled 'random factor' into file safety.
The boss, meantime, is trying to curry favour with the masses by announcing a massive memory upgrade to the applications server to give it some real performance, disregarding completely the bottleneck analysis software pointing to desktop network speed. There's no helping some people.
Sure enough, a few hours later we have an engineer outside our office trying to edge into the computer room.
"What the hell's he doing here?" I ask.
"What do you mean?" The PFY is momentarily confused.
"Shouldn't he be stuck in a lift somewhere?"
"Oh of course! It completely slipped my mind. You'll be wanting the 5th floor." He indicates a lift only ever used by operational staff and very stupid people.
Ten minutes later, the engineer is back.
"There's no bloody server up there," he snaps, a little agitated at the nasty delay caused by the lift problems.
"Server?" the PFY responds, "I thought you'd come to fix the girder up on the 5th floor."
The engineer looks at him unkindly, then enquires about the processor needing the new memory.
The PFY swipes his card through the computer room reader and receives the much feared 'denied' beep. I try my card and a similar thing happens.
"Security must be having a problem again. We'd better wait for a bit until the system comes on-line. Coffee?"
"Sounds like a bloody dodgy system," the engineer says following the PFY out.
As soon as they've gone I break out the scalpel and the roll of tamper-evident packing tape.
Five minutes after that I try my real card on the reader and we all enter the computer room.
"So, two gig into this baby," the engineer says reaching for the apps server off switch.
"Hell no," I cry, panic-stricken. "We don't want that upgraded, we want that one upgraded." I point to a system so old it makes a 286 look state-of-the-art.
"You're joking."
"No. Why?"
"Two gig for that would take up half this room, if it could address it, which it can't."
"So why did your guys sell it to us?" The PFY elbows in on the act.
"We bloody didn't. I'm here to install memory in this." The engineer is getting agitated now - the little veins are sticking out on his forehead.
"But that doesn't need memory."
"Look, there's obviously been some mix-up here," the engineer says. "I'll need to talk to your systems guy."
"He's off sick." I don't think I need to tell him about the poor guy's skin inflammation, which is completely unrelated to that consignment of tanning machine lamps which was mistakenly delivered to our department a week ago, just after his terabyte of disk battle plans were overheard. The PFY just happened to be monitoring his phone line for clarity. Purely in the name of good service of course.
Suffice to say a few of his brighter staff have taken to wearing sunblock and heavy jumpers, even when the central heating accidentally came on for four hours the other day.
"OK," the engineer crumbles in the face of resistance, "I'll get my boss to contact you."
Ten minutes later he's gone, leaving with a couple of MFM hard disk controller cards sealed with tamper-evident tape in his memory upgrade box.
"I think it might be time that Kamakuza Memory Systems 1997 gave the boss a call with an offer he can't refuse, don't you?" I say to the PFY, wielding a couple of spanking new memory cards. "While I'm about it - couldn't the two central routers do with a processor upgrade?"
By the end of the week network's goodwill stock is high, with the surplus memory upgrade dosh going into 100 Meg Ethernet cards for the key players in the PR stakes. Meanwhile, in the pub, the CEO of Kamakuza Memory Systems 1997 meets with the CEO of Kamakuza Router Upgrades 1997.
"Whose round is it anyway?" the PFY asks. "It's yours isn't it?"
"Yes, I believe it is," I sigh as I go to the bar. It's not all fun and games, this CEO business. Bankruptcy looms at every bar corner, if you play your cards right that is...
--
"There's that smell again!" I cry to the PFY, happily recognising that all-too-familiar scent in the air..
"What, onion bhajis?" he asks, his senses dulled by years of soft music and educational films.
"No! *THE* smell".
"Fear?"
"No!"
"Burning Equipment?"
"NO! Can't you feel it, in your bones?"
"Rheumatism" he replies sarcastically.
"No," I respond, "But there could be a fracture in the wind if you don't tune in your senses..."
"Well I don't feel anyt... oh yes!" he cries, suddenly enlightened.
"TRADE SHOW!" we cry simultaneously.
"Now we're going to need a convincing excuse to go as the boss is a bit against trade shows for some reason".
"Could it be because of the last time you went to one?" the PFY asks.
"Which time was that?" I ask. "I don't remember anything out of the ordinary?"
"You mean the time you spent a couple of weeks prior to the event at the tanning clinic, then turned up at the trade show calling yourself Sheik El Al Hand Kebab and claiming to want to network up every home in your Emirate State, no expense spared?"
"I can't recall such an inci..."
"When you drank two suppliers into receivership, disappeared for three days along with the boss's car, secretary, Visa card and nude holiday snaps - only one of which ever turned up again - you - claiming you'd been in a skiing accident on the M25?"
"Well now you come to mention it, the skiing accident rings a bell. Yes, I remember now, it was on work time and so technically they were responsible for my rehabilitation..."
"At the Betty Ford Clinic?"
"Only the best for the company's contractors, I'll say that for them. Anyway, there was no proof I was linked to the car, Visa, secretary or holiday snaps"
"The ones in your second to top drawer, in the envelope marked MFM Disk Formatting Instructions?"
Hmm. I appear to be slightly outflanked by the PFY's skills at determining the truth no matter how low he has to stoop. Taught him everything he knows, you know...
"Well, anyway, that's all water under the bridge," I cry, attempting to change the subject.
"Along with the boss's car if rumours are to be believed," the PFY interrupts. "Still, at least you obviously didn't pull a complete Ted Kennedy, as you're still getting those postcards from Spain..."
Things aren't working out quite the way I planned. The PFY seems to be holding the upper hand in the conversation - something I'm not altogether used to, or comfortable with.
"ENOUGH!" I cry. "I admit, mistakes were made, not least of which was getting lagered the week after and possibly divulging more of that which transpired to you than you needed to know. "
"I'll say!" the PFY cries. "You could have left the bit about you, the boss's secretary and the train in the Underground Museum right out of the conversation, as far as I'm concerned".
Sadly, I'm all out of verbal conversation modifiers. The use of unnecessary force is mentally approved and I give him a taste of the negative ion generator, dangerously modified to put out a few more amps than is safe in an office situation. And sure enough, the PFY does seem to be a lot calmer afterwards.
"BACK ON TOPIC!" I cry. "We have a trade show to go to, and I don't want any more
interruptions!"
The PFY nods obediently.
"Now, we need some foolproof plan to enable us to go".
"I could ring my uncle".
"Yes, yes, but cashing in favours with the CEO isn't the plan. A far better plan is to give the boss absolutely NO power of veto for technical reasons".
"After last time nothing short of an earthquake is going to shift the boss's views..." the PFY chips.
"OF COURSE! AN EARTHQUAKE! GENIUS!"
"You're going to cause an earthquake??!?!"
"No, no, of course not! Well, not if I don't have to anyway. No, the reason of reasons!
The excuse of excuses!"
"What would that be then?" The PFY asks, unenlightened.
"DISASTER RECOVERY! It's been YEARS since anyone tested our DR kit, and a large
percentage of it would probably catch fire if we powered it up anyway! BRILLIANT!"
The PFY calls uncle and starts the ball rolling.
"Ah!" the boss clucks as he enters the office some minutes later. "You know, I was thinking it was about time we tested our disaster recovery systems!"
"Do we have any disaster recovery systems?" I add, paving the way, "as there's an exhibition on that very topic in two weeks that the PFY and I are keen to go to".
"UNLIKELY!" the boss replies harshly. "We already have two DR rooms upstairs, ready to be fired up. I think we would do that now".
No sooner said than done. About two hours later, as the fire brigade is leaving, I'm taken aside by the CEO to answer the boss's outrageous claims of sabotage.
"Ridiculous!" I cry. "The fire was caused by dust accumulating in the equipment over a period of three years. We were lucky the whole place didn't go up. It's information like this that you find out at DR Trade Shows like the one coming up in tw..."
Two weeks later the PFY and I enter the trade show for a 3 day tour of duty. It's a harsh job, but someone's got to do it. We're greeted immediately by a charming young woman working for a popular supplier.
"Good Morning and Welcome to our Show, Mr, um..."
"Sheik Ali Mohammed, " I reply "And my son, Ahmed Mohammed. We're here to get some computing for our palace. Only the best will do, naturally..."
- Slink around, shuffling your feet and bobbing your neck like the lazy retard
you are.
- Walk down the middle of the street because you don't know what a sidewalk is
for.
- Hang out at carwashes and mini-marts because everybody knows these are the
best places to be a dope, I mean dope.
- If you're a nigger bitch, shit three nigger babies into the world before 17
years of age. This assures that welfare money will support you, so your
nigger men have more time to commit crimes. Oh yes, make sure each nigger
baby has a different father.
- Bastardize the English language in the name of nigger culture. Make sure
that several terms have multiple meanings and others have ambiguous meanings
and that only 50% of nigger words are even complete words. Real niggers will
know what you're trying to say.
- As a culture, make sure there are always more bucks in prison than in
college at any given time.
- Hang out in packs of 10 to 15 and make sure everyone acts as annoying as
possible. This helps to promote nigger individuality.
- Always talk loud enough so everyone in the 'hood' can fucking hear you, and
if they are niggers, they will know what your saying, bro.
- Wear clothes that are 10 sizes too big, making sure the pants hang off your
ass. Also huge pants facilitate stealing (let me translate that: "it be
easier to lift dat 'box at the Kmart, homes"). If you have to hold them up
while you walk, it only looks badder.
- Park at least 5 junk cars in your yard while being careful not to use the
driveway. It's OK to abandon them in the street as long as it's in front of
someone else's crib.
- Exaggerate every motion, every tonal inflection and grab your dick a lot.
Have red carpet, blue walls, brass and overstuffed furnishings (all rented),
purple bathrooms and keep all windows covered so that no light can enter and
no cops can see in while you...
- Do drugs, sell drugs, make drugs.
- Turn your backyard into a junk yard. If you don't have a backyard, turn
your mother's into a junk yard. Eliminate every blade of grass.
- Travel around leaching off relatives, friends, salvation armies. Abandon
your children with them also.
- Smack your kids and yell at them a lot. Make them feel less than human and
that they have no future, which they don't because they're niggers like you.
- Drink cheap wine and malt liquor every day, forgetting that "malt liquor" is
just fortified cheap beer.
- If you're a nigger buck: fuck anything that moves, no matter how ugly she is.
After two eight-balls, even the ugliest, fattest nigger bitch will look good.
- Be charitable and covet fat, ugly white chicks. After all, they're niggers
too. They can't help being so undesirable to white men that they have to
fraternize with black dudes on a 20/20 trip. And white ho's are a special
trophy too, especially the not so ugly ones.
- Spray paint everything in sight with scribbles that mean nothing to White
people but mean things to fellow niggers (except niggers from another hood
who will probably try to kill you for tresspassing on their turf)
- Use the term "motherfucker" in every sentence. It's one of the most
versatile words in the nigger language, being a noun, verb, adjective and
complete mini-sentence in event you run out of thoughts.
- Stop in the middle of the street, blocking all traffic to converse with
fellow niggers and have complete disregard for everyone else.
- Delay everybody at the checkouts while you and 3 other dudes fumble around
for the $1.42 for the bottle of Magnum.
- Clog isles at Kmart with strollers, bastard kids and your fat selves. If
you're a cashier, never look at or be cordial to a customer and always talk
to other niggers while you ring up the customer.
- Overcharge customers at Taco Bell and pocket the difference.
- Drive your car while slouched so low that you can barely see over the wheel
(gangsta drivin').
- Get a job under affirmative action. Then sit around all day pretending that
you earned the position and that the other co-workers respect you. Whenever
you fuck up, scream "racism!" & hope you get enough Generation X liberals
in the jury.
- Never, I mean NEVER, take any responsibility for your actions. Always blame
others including Asians, Latinos, Mexicans, and especially Whites for your
sorry ass stupid lives.
- Advertise your "nation" (gang) with a bewildering array of colors that mean
nothing to any one but other nig's. Oh yes, if another nig violates your
"nation" i.e. garbage strewn empty lots and burned out tenements, shoot
their ass.
- Look for identity in murderous criminal gangs when you can't find it in
broken nigger homes because your mother was a 15 year old cokewhore and your
father is in jail doing 5 to 15 for pistol whipping a mini-mart cashier.
- Be all concerned with east/west connections, cellular phones, beepers, drive
by's and other trivial bullshit that Whites will never understand anything
about (what's to understand?)
- Lament ghetto gang life while at the same time...
- Listen to rap "music", which glorifies "gangsta" life, crime, drugs, murder,
early death, oppression of women. Rip off other legit music to fabricate rap
music which probably takes an engineering degree to "write" (because of the
technical know-how to operate the machines) while not requiring any music
talent at all. Then get some young criminal scum to perform it, after
changing his name to something stupid like Snoopy Dog. Spell the name of the
group with phonetics and use a number in it because nig's really like that.
At least rap is an opportunity, e.g. for young black criminals to further
their criminal careers. Rap needs only four things to be successful:
a producer, a promoter, a front-man flunky, and MTV to shove it down our
throats. Be sure to say absolutely nothing important during the 5 pages of
dialogue in a given rap joint other than "look at how much of a nigger I can
be." Then roll a joint in the joint and think about the joint while stylin'
to the joint.
- Show other lame-ass races the black race is unique by having a
culture/lifestyle that results in diseases/poverty/birth rates for blacks
consistently rising while it falls for the others.
- Fear and loathing of dogs is set in the genes for nig's. Of course bigotry
against blacks is set into the genes of dogs. So be sure to get a dog, tie
it up in the cold and mud and neglect it until it dies. Then start all over
again.
- Always have ten excuses involving hospitals for why you can't pay your
bill. When or if you finally settle up, pull out a big wad of bills out of
the welfare check to do it. Cash must be used because you long ago fucked
up your credit and checking account.
- Cram 5 generations into a two room government apartment and still be able to
neglect your kids.
- Die young. The #1 cause of death for nigger males between 15 and 30 is
murder.
Slashdot Mirror
That is why there is the need for us trolls.
girl: hey
...
girl: sorry about that.
dookie: yo
girl: what's up?
girl: did you talk shit about me with shaun's 10 year old sister?
dookie: nope
girl: what did you tell her?
dookie: what do you care?
girl: did you hit on her?
dookie: you can't stop our love
girl: cause, its funny.
girl: and kinda twisted.
dookie: it wasn't shaun's sister
dookie: it was shaun
girl: ok
dookie: i'm not stupid
dookie: =)
girl: anyway
dookie: anyway
girl: i went out with him.
girl: EW
girl: gasp
dookie: ug
dookie: h
girl: i know.
girl: and he tried to ask me out again the next day
dookie: but anyway
girl: ?
dookie: i hung out witht he girl i like last night
girl: lol
girl: yeah, i hung out w/ my mother
dookie: we were hanging out in my apartment, for like 5 hours, alone, watching movies, in the dark
girl: im cool
girl: hmmmm.
dookie: and i got NO SUGAR
girl: what does that say to you?
girl: cause i sure as hell know what it says to ME
dookie: i've decided that she probably "just wants to be friends"
girl: lol
dookie: and it's gay
dookie: and i hate her
girl: did you try and get her to give you some sugar?
girl: as you say...
dookie: no, i really didn't try
girl: then?!
girl: not every woman is a how
girl: ho
dookie: though I consciously made ample opportunities for her to jump me
girl: like?
girl: did you guys even hold hands?
dookie: and after we've been hanging out quite a bit, if she likes me, then she should have jumped me
dookie: no
girl: wtf
girl: come one
girl: on
girl: did you try to hold her hand?
girl: you want the poor girl to make all the moves?
dookie: kinda sorta-a
dookie: yes
girl: that's never gonna happen
dookie: no, seriously
dookie: i tried
dookie:
girl: well, perhaps im just speaking about myself.
girl: i will never never never make the first move, ever.
dookie: i think that she's a lot like you
girl: and it cannot just be a damn suggestion
girl: you have to fucking grab my hand.
dookie: but i was trying to be a whole lot more touchy-feely than i usually am
girl: and caress it.
girl: well, then, that's good.
dookie: all this while trying not to be creepy
girl: aom
dookie: so whatever
girl: ain't anybody a whole lot like me.. im me and that's that.
dookie: she did't pick up on it, or she just isn't interested
dookie: so i'm moving on
dookie: i say fuck it
dookie: =/
dookie: there's another girl that i like who just broke up with her bf
dookie: and she wants to hang out
dookie: so whatever
dookie: =/
girl: dude.
girl: people fucking fuck things up
girl: i just ran into this girl i know at ralphs
girl: and she was over here a week ago w/ her bf (who is fucking hot, btw and intelligent and interesting)(
girl: and rambled on and on about how they are perfect for each other, and how happy they are
girl: and today she's saying she misses her ex and wants to get back w/ him
girl: after bashing him last week
girl: WHAT IS UP
girl: can't people just be fucking happy?
dookie: i don't even know anymore
girl: how does anyone ever get married
girl: and this is bad
dookie: but i'm sure you understand my problem
girl: cause i tend to get a bit randyon sat. nights.
dookie: i really tried with this girl
girl: and im glad matt is not online
girl: or else, it would be really tempting right now.
girl: what do you mean yo u really tried
girl: you didn't even hold her damn hand
dookie: fuck that
girl: huh?
dookie: no, whatever
girl: the ideal man is rivers cuomo
girl: im telling you im convinced.
dookie: i've had bad experiences with girls that involved my hand-holding
girl: pinkerton should be called songs from annie's damn life
girl: like?
girl: i always let guys hold my hand
dookie: i don't wanna get into i
dookie: t
dookie: ya, but that's you
girl: even if i don't want to
girl: im nice.
girl: but i won't answer their calls afterward
dookie: i don't care. i really don't. i want to distance myself from this chick, and she can call me if she's interested
dookie: i'm not gonna bother anymore
girl: lol
girl: i don't understand this, but i guess you don't want me to, so ok
dookie: i figured i was blunt enough by asking her to hang out on friday night ALONE with me
girl: lol
girl: ok, seriously though.
girl: i feel that perhaps i am bi
girl: because
girl: i don't know.
girl: i am attracted to boys.
girl: but im attracted to girls in another way.
dookie: and if she's so dense/square that she didn't pick up on the fact that i'm hot for her butt, then whatever
girl: lol
girl: i don't think id ever sleep with a girl or kiss a girl
girl: but im so sick of the way boys treat girls
girl: its annoying.
dookie: oh whatever
girl: i don't like playing games
dookie: am i playing games?
girl: i cannot read their minds, and its much easier to tell what a girl is thinking vs. a boy
girl: not with me
dookie: but you're a girl
girl: i don't deal with you personally or even on a daily basis.
dookie: it's a different kind of think
girl: yes, but im assuming we will not be dating or any such think like that
dookie: *thing
girl: so you're different
dookie: pshhhh
girl: because you live far away.
girl: and also
dookie: i'm gonna raid your ass when you come to visit boston
girl: ive never met you
dookie: i told you that before
girl: lol
girl: im not a cheap ho like that.
dookie: oh whatever
dookie: i'll hold your hand
girl: oh, so you're saying
girl: that if i come there
girl: you will not hesitate to do whatever it is you want
girl: without looking for any signs of approval?
dookie: you know that's not what i mean
dookie: it's just a figure of speech
girl: awww.
dookie: but...
girl: yes well.
dookie: you're a shit-load more compatible and interesting that most of the girls i meet here
dookie: so take that for what you like
girl: well i guess that's a compliment of sorts
dookie: even if you're mildly ugly, i'd tag ya =)
girl: ok
girl: fuck you
girl: im not ugly
dookie: hehe
dookie: i know
girl: that's why i think its a compliment that you said what you just said
girl: cause most of the time im paranoid that a boy just wants to hand out for physical reasons.
dookie: no no,
girl: some people do not mind, but i think that the biggest insult ever.
girl: i get very offended.
dookie: i'd put it in your butt just for sentimental reasons
girl: ok
girl: im not into sodomy
dookie: it's fun in good measure
girl: why is it that every guy i meet through shaun or jeni is into ass-rape
girl: all butt-pirates in disguise.
dookie: yarr
dookie: !
girl: alright
girl: well ive had my share of disgust for one night
girl: see ya
dookie: hehe
dookie: okies
dookie: but seriously
Auto response from girl: note: you don't really need to have a girl to sodomize, interpret that however you'd like, you damn ass-pirates.
dookie: i need your thoughts
dookie: should i really give up on girl_interest?
girl: no
girl: not if you like her
girl: if you like her
dookie: i do
girl: i mean
girl: she did come and hang out w/ you
girl: you dork
girl: so
dookie: but UGH
girl: maybe she thought that since you were inviting her to be alone with you
dookie: wtf
girl: you'd also try and hold her hand
girl: maybe she was confused about why you didn't
dookie: but she was being all weird
dookie: and WE WERE DRINKING
girl: oooh
girl: there's not fucking excuse
girl: EVEN I
dookie: so i'd think that she wouldn't be so fucking inhibited
girl: make the first move if i've been drinking w/; a guy
girl: no way.
girl: perhaps she does not find you attractive
girl: i don't know
dookie: ya, so now you agree with me
girl: especially if you've been drinking
girl: and there's nobody else around.
girl: oh no
dookie: i mean, after last night i was like "UGH. wtf."
girl: i'd be liable to lose my virginity under those circumstances
girl: if i liked the guy
dookie: exactly
girl: so
girl: yeah
girl: move on
dookie: and i totally didn't act creepy and try anything...
dookie: ON PURPOSE
dookie: just because i figured that in that situation, if she liked me, she had everything going for her
dookie: so there's no excuse not to jump me
girl: yeah
girl: i agree
dookie: =(
dookie: i hate girls
girl: sorry im being honest.
girl: be gay!
dookie: not quite yet
dookie: i have a couple more prospects to try out
girl: lol
girl: do you even WANT a girlfriend?
girl: i mean
girl: cause
girl: sometimes i fool myself into thinking that's what i want
girl: when really it isn't at all
dookie: i think i really do
dookie: i haven't had one in a looooooong time
dookie: and i'm really not the person who randomly hooks up
girl: but come on
dookie: at least i've tried to not do that lately
girl: you'd have to like commit to them and whatnot
dookie: i'm fine with that
girl: that would be hard.
girl: you'd have to be there for them.
dookie: i have no problem with that if the girl is up to my standards
girl: you'd have to care.
girl: wtf
girl: argh.
dookie: and that's a lot more personality than body
girl: well... yes.
girl: but
girl: ive learned that all the boys say that.
dookie: i couldn't be going out with an annoying shallow bitch
girl: but they don't really mean it
dookie: i'd put it in her butt, but nothing long-term
dookie: this other girl i like is really really cool and nice
girl: what the hell are your "standards" anyway?
dookie: and she's absolutely beautiful
girl: i feel that i need a boyfriend.
girl: im sick of all this
dookie: she doesn't have a "perfect bod," but she has this adorable mediterranean figure
girl: trying to get as many guys as i can to like me
dookie: she's got a bit of a booty, but it looks really really nice
girl: lol
dookie: and she has great style, and she's really intelligent
dookie: i have a bit of a thing for her ever since i met her
girl: well then, there you go
dookie: and last time i talked to her, she told me she broke up with her bf
girl: what's this girls name
dookie: and she asked me to call her this weekend to hang out
dookie: "NAME"
dookie: she's... fucking great
girl: then.
girl: call
dookie: i did
girl: and?
dookie: she's out of town tonight
girl: lol
girl: ok
girl: so now i need your thoughts
dookie: and at least this girl gives me hugs and stuff
dookie: and isn't all dense
girl: say you had a gf
girl: for a year
girl: and you starting "loving" her
girl: or whatever the fuck that is
girl: and
girl: then
girl: she didn't really show any love back
girl: and then
girl: you found out she was gay
girl: so she's gay, and you're thinking she's the one you HAVE to be with for the rest of your life
dookie: meh..
girl: is three months enough time to get over that?
dookie: sucks to be me, huh?
girl: yeah
girl: well i know a guy that this happened to
dookie: if you're truly "in love," i don't think you can ever get over that
girl: so, would you be able to fake attractiong/kindness toward someone else
girl: to validate your emotions as a "male"
girl: after being dumped for a girl by the one you love
dookie: especially if you lose the person to "the gay"
dookie: i mean, you'd have to move on for your own good
dookie: but if you don't just thow the word "love" around, then you'll "love" the person as long as they're alive
dookie: and i'm very strict about using that word
dookie: personally
dookie: =/
girl: lolq
girl: i think im not gonna talk to people for a while
girl: i cannot deal with all this
girl: id rather just fucking solve hw problems
dookie: but then again, if the girl pulls a 180' and is a total bitch, then it might be time to reconsider your loyalties
girl: its a lot less personal
girl: i always question motives too much.
girl: i think everyone's out to get me sometimes.
girl: you know, when you think you have your life in order or whatever
girl: things seem to be going alright
girl: i know its all gonna come crashing down soon.
girl: for no reason at all.. just becuase it needs to balance out.
girl: ive scared you. please ignore the comments made. ive share too much.
girl: shared
girl: anyway, gotta go do some studying
dookie: k
"So tonight you'll tell me about mommy?" asked the child, holding the golden retriever plush as she always did, looking up to the tall form of her father as he lit the candles on her birthday cake with a long kitchen match.
"Tonight, I promise, angel." Abe answered, gazing down at the radiant form of his daughter as he lit the last of the ten candles, playfully mussing her long golden hair. "Close your eyes and make a wish.
Sea green eyes closed, as the child blew, extinguishing the flames in one breath.
"You did it, honey!" Abe exclaimed as he removed the candles from the cake, cutting the first slice for his little girl.
It was later that night, as the child lay back in her bed, surrounded by plush animals and nestled warmly to Spot, the golden retriever. "So... What happened to mommy?" Kendri repeated, lying back against the pillows, her eyes meeting her father's.
"I told you I'd tell you the truth tonight, sweetie, and that's what I'm going to do. "It began on the night of your birth, Kendri, ten years ago."
---
The wind whipped through the trees as the adherents surrounded the bound young woman as she pulled at her bonds, tied spread-eagle on the altar of stone. She was bound with straps of leather, and a soft piece of cloth muffled her faint cries. Her flawless olive skin glistened with musky oils doled liberally over her body, which gleamed in the flickering torchlight. The excess sweetness dribbled from her heels and long, dark oil-matted hair as she struggled against her bonds, staining the granite slab she lay upon.
Abe slowly approached the altar, the woman. He stood between her spread legs for a long moment as a slender, pale redheaded girl slipped to her knees before him, taking his penis into her mouth and nursing on him, letting him grow erect within her mouth. The girl released him from her mouth and then pressed her heavy breasts about his throbbing, sodden hardness, keeping him warm, keeping him hard, keeping that shaft enveloped in warm, yielding, female flesh.
"Brothers and sisters." Abe spoke, gazing out to the nude forms on the outskirts of the clearing, entire families nestled close; parents and their children looking on. "Our clan was almost extinct, almost completely assimilated into humankind." He slipped a pair of fingers into the sex of the bound woman before him, fingers pressing deep into tight, secret heat, drawing a gasp of surprise and a muffled whine from the captive. "Xiomaro Sangre lies before me. The Sangres are - or were - hunters." he explained, drawing forth fingers dripping with female musk and scented oil. "Their kind exterminated ours, leaving we few behind. Over the years, their calling passed into iniquity as their bloodline, too, was thinned, their calling forgotten." He reached to massage the sole of Xiomaro's right foot, smiling slyly as her green eyes burned in hatred. "She ran her family business in Brazil, a chemical company that raped the very Earth her kind drew strength from - and with !
that bond broken, she is reduced to this."
Abe reached to paint the belly of the redhead before him with Xiomaro's musk, her head lowering as she accepted the blessing. "Let our foe's bloodline be tainted tonight. Let our blood, our kind grow strong again."
The redheaded female before him slowly, almost reluctantly, let his malehood slip from where it lay nestled between her breasts. She fluidly slipped to his left, and kissed his shaft as she guided it forward, thick maleness slowly penetrating, parting tight netherlips, vanishing into the heat of the sex of his ancestral enemy.
Abe paused for a long moment, as ceremony dictated, feeling the tightness of Xiomaro's pussy bearing down on his shaft. He slipped atop her, toned muscle gliding, lubricated by the warm oil over the woman's curves, then quickly fell into a fast rhythm as he took his pleasure with the woman. Abe was not gentle in his rape - he squeezed at handfuls of breastflesh as his hips slapped Xiomaro's, his long red hair flowing behind him as his nails dragged over the oil-sodden woman's shapely sides, his own muscled form glistening in the torchlight as the everpresent oil covered his body.
His redheaded companion slipped silently back to her family, embracing her mother and father and little brother. She leaned to kiss her father as never before, tongue slipping against his as his hands moved to her breasts. The little boy curled close to his mother, held warmly in her arms as he nursed from her warm breast as he did as a babe. His mother's gentle touch enveloped his tiny shaft and undescended balls, lovingly coaxing the six year old to his first erection. All about them, the clearing was filled with a display of forbidden lust; Two young boys held their mother, as their slender shafts rode her warm, tight pussy in unison, a father embracing his baby girl tight to himself, delighting in her squeals as a gentle finger rubbed her miniature clit. Fathers nursed on the tiny shafts of their sons, mothers arched their backs as their slickened pussies slipped against their daughters' hairless folds; all taboo had been forgotten in that moment.
Abe's head threw back, and he howled, body trembling all over as he embraced his captive. His thick malehood throbbed inside her, the first few thick jets of seed pulsing forth, filling her. Time seemed to slow as he squeezed the woman to him, his howl continuing as thick blood red fur erupted from the naked flesh of his skin, muscle tone improving tenfold as he embraced his captive. His issue became thinner, hotter, spilling copiously within her in a quantity no human could ever produce, twin bulbs swelling forth at the base of his now-tapered cock to lock him to Xiomaro. A waiting ova deep within the woman's body was met by the flood of canid semen; her woman's eyes, clenched shut since the beginning of her ordeal flew open, their brilliant greenness changed to eyes of gold.
Xiomaro's back arched violently as legs grew muscular, enwrapping that what was a man, now a manwolf, bestial and naked, his massive prick buried within her insanely stretched pussy. She screamed into her gag as her hair spilled from her head, years of growth happening in seconds, short blondeness becoming a long, gray mane, the same thick grayness bursting from her skin. Her screams of agony became howls of ecstasy as the Hunter became the Beast, gag tearing away as her face pressed out into a lupine muzzle. Xiomaro's tongue licked feverishly at Abe's as the oil burned from their bodies in a nimbus of energy, purifying them in an unconsuming fire.
The orgy of young and old intensified as humanity was forsaken, the families uniting as flesh shifted, becoming a pack of werewolves, the old blood manifesting as the multitude of malehoods throbbed as one, brothers inseminating mothers, fathers filling their daughters with the product of their animalistic lust. Dozens of heads turned to the altar as Abe slowly pulled his spent shaft from his vessel, as his tongue laved gently over the black lips of the woman made his mate. His paws caressed her belly, leathered palms massaging the soft flesh beneath the thick pelt. Xiomaro's belly slowly swelled and hardened under the massage, her furred breasts swelling heavy, beads of milk welling at her nipples as months of gestation passed in mere minutes.
The she-wolf screamed as her body spasmed with labor, her male lowering his paws to her sex as her birthwaters spilled over them, a tiny new life escaping from the confines of her body in mere minutes. Abe held aloft a human babe, slickened with birth blood and with her cord still binding her to her mother. Dozens of howls rose as one to the moon, praising their goddess Luna at the sight of the child.
---
Abe smiled and leaned down to kiss Kendri's cheek as she met her father's eyes, a shiver trembling through her body. Motes of gold shone in her eyes as she reached for her father, Spot all but forgotten.
Kendri held close to her father as he opened her pajama top, sighing softly as his hands slipped over her chest, her belly; his thumbs slipping into the elastic of her bottoms and pulling them down. The child arched her back as she needfully pulled her father's shirt up, and Abe obligingly removed it as he lay back, tugging down his jeans as his daughter straddled his waist as best she could.
"It's so warm..." murmured Kendri, hugging her father to herself as her ears pointed, shifting atop her head, her blackening, emerging claws slipping over her father's muscular chest. She moaned in pleasure as soft, leathered pads slid forth from both the palms of her hands and the soles of her feet, her toes curling as she arched to him, baby fat melting away and replaced by a firm, muscled gymnast's body. Her bushy tail slid forth, whipping through the air in delirious pleasure. Golden eyes fixed to her father's as her growing mane billowed behind her, soft and long and greyfurred like that of her mother.
"Finally awake, little Kendri." Abe murmured with a smile as he gave his little girl's rear a gentle squeeze. She responded by wrapping a leathered palm about his shaft, squeezing it, caressing it with an ancestral knowledge, feeling it grow thick and hard and guiding it to her soft, still-furless sex.
"Tomorrow, little girl, we hunt." whispered Abe as his eyes closed, sinking into the delicious sweetness of his own kind mixed with those of his former enemy, sweet, young tight pussyflesh accommodating him in spite of his size. The tiny contradiction of wolf and wolf hunter made flesh rose and fell on daddy's fat prick as the first soft howl rose from her throat, praising goddess Luna in exultation - it would be soon when she would have a pack of her own kind to run with.
BRITNEY SPEARS MEETS MARVIN THE MARTIAN
by Hamster
A huge metallic disc approached earth at an incredible speed, with the
amazing abilities of a gravity defying design, the ship slowed drastically
after entering the atmosphere and changed tragictory 180 degrees in mid
air. In mid-flight the metallic UFO stopped then slowly decended to earth.
It landed outside a small town in northern Luisiana.
The door of the large metal ship opened and an escalater telescoped its
way down to the ground.
Marvin (the Martian) took the escalater down to terra-ferma.
A mechanical arm came down from the ship and handed Marvin a note.
"Dear Agent Marvin,
Your mission is to capture a female earth creature and mate with her,
then bring her to Mars so that we may have the product of that union.
-Martian High Council
P.S.-Thank you for the cookies."
"Oh, how delightful." Marvin commented.
A second metallic arm sprung from the ship. This time the arm deposited
a wooden crate on the ground in front of the Martian.
The front of the crate popped open allowing a green martian dog to step
out. The dog saluted Marvin with one of his green floppy ears. He the
reached under his helmet with this same ear and produced a note.
"Dear captain,
Agent K-9 reporting as ordered."
"Oh K-9, our mission is to kidnap and mate with an earth woman. isn't
that simply delightful? Come along now we must find an earthling female."
The pair strolled through the woods and before long they came across an
attractive blonde earth female who was drinking a V8 Splash. She wore white
silk pants and a white t-shirt.
Marvin and K-9 approached the female together.
"Uhh whats up, dude?" She asked in her southern accent.
"I am Marvin the martian and this is my subordinate, K-9. We have come
to earth seeking an earth female to impregnate, now dosn't that sound
delightful?." He asked.
"Oh hello, I'm Britney. Sorry I can't talk but I have a picnic to go to.
Good luck with that whole impregnation thing."She said tossing aside her
now empty V8 bottle and began walking away.
"Oh my goodness K-9, do you suppose all earth females act like that?"
Marvin asked.
K-9 shrugged.
Marvin stepped up behind Britney and tapped her on the shoulder.
"Pardon me, but you are coming to Mars and I'm gong to impregnate you."
Marvin informed her.
Britney raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.
"And suppose I don't want to go to Mars and be impregnated?" She asked.
Marvin took out his disintigrater and obliterated a boulder.
"Eep!" Britney's eyes widened in terror and her jaw hung slack.
She made dash for bottom the flying saucer's escalater that left a dust
cloud in her wake.
She put a conducters hat on began to ring a cow bell.
"ALL ABOOOOOOOOOOOARD, flying saucer leaving for Neptune, Pluto, Your
Anus, and Mars."She announced.
Marvin and K-9 rushed to the escalater, not wanting to miss the trip.
"Hurry, hurry you don't want to miss your trip" Britney said as she
shood the alien pair onto the space ship.
The escalater retracted back into the ship. With a hum and a whoosh the
ship took off into the sky. It zoomed past the moon and made a b-line
for Mars. Just before entering the atmosphere of the red planet it
stopped. It zoomed back the way it came and landed in the spot it had
taken off from a few minutes before. Marvin and K-9 descended the
escalater.
Marvin stepped up to Britney, huffing and puffing with rage, his fists
where balled up at his sides.
"Oooo you have made me very angry." He said.
"Calm down shorty, look its not that I don't want to go to Mars with
you. I do, really. Its just that I dont want to get involved in no
mutiny" Britney leaned in and whispered something into Marvin's ear as
pointed to K-9.
K-9 raised his ear and leaned in a bit trying to hear what was said.
When she finished explaining both she and Marvin both looked at K-9
angrilly.
Marvin whipped out his disintegrater and fired a blast at K-9. The
Martian dog jumped into his helmet to avoid the burst.
K-9 waved a white flag in one ear while handing Marvin a note with the
other.
"Dear Marvin,
What have I done?
- K-9" The note read.
"Let that be a lesson to you. I shall have no Mutiny I aboard my ship."
Marvin said angrilly.
Marvin turned to see that Britney was running away at full speed.
Marvin unslung a second weapon. This one fired a straight jacket that
wrapped itself snuggly around Britney's sexy body.
several minutes later, aboard Marvin's ship...
"Now when I remove this straight jacket, you are going to mate with me
Earthling. And I'll have no funny buisness." Marvin said.
"Who me? I've been looking forward to this." Britney lied with an
innocent look on her face.
"Oh goodey!" Marvin said, clapping his hands together enthusiastically.
Marvin released the straps on Britney's straight jacket.
Britney decided to cooperate, for the time being.
She removed her top non-chalantly, this elicited the appropriate
response from Marvin. The Martian's eyes bugged out and his tongue hung
out as he stared at her naked tits.
Britney unzipped her pants and let them fall to her ankles. She then
pulled her panties down to reviel her stunning pink pussy lips.
Marvin was mesmerised.
Britney smiled and got on all fours.
Marvin reached under his kilt and pulled out his hardening martian
man-meat.
The martian stood behind Britney and put his cock head to the singer's
juicey wet cunt.
Marvin grabbed a hold of her hips and began pumping her with a steady
rythem.
"Mmm mmm mmm oh oh oh yes." Britney moaned.
Britneys tits swayed forward and back as she pushed against his
strokes. Marvin leaned forward and reached under her chest so he could
squeeze her ripe tits as he fucked her. His finger dug into the firm
flesh of her large tits as she masterfully tightened her pussy over his
cock.
Britney's chest tightened and she sharply took in air. She came to an
orgasm, biting her lip to stop from screaming. Her girl cum splashing
all over his cock.
Marvin slid his cock out of Britney's sloppy wet pussy and slid it into
her tight ass hole. There was a slurpy, sloshy sound as he banged
Britney in the back door with his cum girl-splattered dick.
"Mmm rrrr" Britney moaned with discomfort.
Marvin released Britney's tits and took took squeezing her shapely butt
cheeks. Marvin ruthlessly pounded her ass faster and faster. Soon
enough he felt an orgasm welling up inside him.
"Oh goodness YES!" He cried as shot his load with an audible splat.
Marvin fell backwards, dizzy. Little birds circled his head.
"Oh goodness that was so delightfull." He said dizzilly.
When he finally regained his composure and his vision cleared all he
saw was the barrel of his own disintegrater gun aimed at him.
"Change in flight plans." Britney said with a smile.
Christina Aguilera yawned. Britney was a half hour late for their
picnic. She had the nice large blanket laid ot for them as well as a
basket full of food and a portable CD player with both their last CDs.
Christina picked up a rock and flung it as she could.
This was the first time she'd ever been stood up, and she didn't like
it.
Suddenly she heard a strange humming sound. Strange green lights
swirled around her.
She was very surprised to look up and see a UFO hovering above her. A
huge door opened in the ships side allowing an escalater to slide down
to the ground.
Christina was VERY surprised to see Britney coming down the escalater
to the ground in front of her. Britney was even more suprisingly,
completely naked!
Sure it was a big time saver, but it was kind of wierd.
"Sorry I'm late, but I got tied up." Britney said.
"Oh," Christina said,"Well I have a cell phone, hello."
"OK, OK, I said I was sorry. I'll make it up to you" Britney smiled.
Christina cracked a smile, "You sure will."
Christina pressed her-self against Britney's hot bod struck her tongue
between the other blonde's lips. As the two sexy singers grappled with
each other's moist tongues Christina took the apportunity to squeeze
Britney's firm butt cheeks.
Britney helped Christina strip her cloths off so that the horney pair
could really get down to buisness.
Christina reached into her picnic basket and pulled out her strap-on
dildo. Britney obligingly put it on.
Christina laid down on her back and raised her mid section slightly
in the air. Britney got on her knees in front between Christina's legs.
Britney put the tip of the dildo to Christina's pussy. Christina
wrapped her legs around Britney's waist and Britney took hold of
Christina's hips. With Britney thrust forward to begin fucking
Christina with incredible energy and enthusiasm.
Christina shook with each thrust her arms flailing wildly, until she
decided to reach up and grap Britney's firm melons for support.
Christina cried out loubly as her slim body shook with a satsfyingly
strong orgasm.
Britney pulled out and Christina laid back limp and gasping. Britney
unstrapped the dildo and lay atop her friend.
"Whew!" Christina huffed,"That was fantastic!"
"Thanx, hey I got a space ship wanna go shopping on Mars?"
Marvin grumbled unhappily as he gave the cashier his credit card.
Britney had a disintegrater casually pointed at his head.
"Are you two quite done I have almost maxed out my card!!!" Marvin
whined.
"No, we still gotta go to the W.B. store. And we should go to the food
court and get a couple of Pepsis." Britney said.
"Cokes" Christina corrected.
Marvin sighed and lowered his head saidly as he was made to carry
everything the two popstars bought.
2.5 million B.C.: OOG the Open Source Caveman develops the axe and releases it under the GPL. The axe quickly gains popularity as a means of crushing moderators' heads.
100,000 B.C.: Man domesticates the AIBO.
10,000 B.C.: Civilization begins when early farmers first learn to cultivate hot grits.
3000 B.C.: Sumerians develop a primitive cuneiform perl script.
2920 B.C.: A legendary flood sweeps Slashdot, filling up a Borland / Inprise story with hundreds of offtopic posts.
1750 B.C.: Hammurabi, a Mesopotamian king, codifies the first EULA.
490 B.C.: Greek city-states unite to defeat the Persians. ESR triumphantly proclaims that the Greeks "get it".
399 B.C.: Socrates is convicted of impiety. Despite the efforts of freesocrates.com, he is forced to kill himself by drinking hemlock.
336 B.C.: Fat-Time Charlie becomes King of Macedonia and conquers Persia.
4 B.C.: Following the Star (as in hot young actress) of Bethelem, wise men travel from far away to troll for baby Jesus.
A.D. 476: The Roman Empire BSODs.
A.D. 610: The Glorious MEEPT!! founds Islam after receiving a revelation from God. Following his disappearance from Slashdot in 632, a succession dispute results in the emergence of two troll factions: the Pythonni and the Perliites.
A.D. 800: Charlemagne conquers nearly all of Germany, only to be acquired by andover.net.
A.D. 874: Linus the Red discovers Iceland.
A.D. 1000: The epic of the Beowulf Cluster is written down. It is the first English epic poem.
A.D. 1095: Pope Bruce II calls for a crusade against the Turks when it is revealed they are violating the GPL. Later investigation reveals that Pope Bruce II had not yet contacted the Turks before calling for the crusade.
A.D. 1215: Bowing to pressure to open-source the British government, King John signs the Magna Carta, limiting the British monarchy's power. ESR triumphantly proclaims that the British monarchy "gets it".
A.D. 1348: The ILOVEYOU virus kills over half the population of Europe. (The other half was not using Outlook.)
A.D. 1420: Johann Gutenberg invents the printing press. He is immediately sued by monks claiming that the technology will promote the copying of hand-transcribed books, thus violating the church's intellectual property.
A.D. 1429: Natalie Portman of Arc gathers an army of Slashdot trolls to do battle with the moderators. She is eventually tried as a heretic and stoned (as in petrified).
A.D. 1478: The Catholic Church partners with doubleclick.net to launch the Spanish Inquisition.
A.D. 1492: Christopher Columbus arrives in what he believes to be "India", but which RMS informs him is actually "GNU/India".
A.D. 1508-12: Michaelengelo attempts to paint the Sistine Chapel ceiling with ASCII art, only to have his plan thwarted by the "Lameness Filter."
A.D. 1517: Martin Luther nails his 95 Theses to the church door and is promptly moderated down to (-1, Flamebait).
A.D. 1553: "Bloody" Mary ascends the throne of England and begins an infamous crusade against Protestants. ESR eats his words.
A.D. 1588: The "IF I EVER MEET YOU, I WILL KICK YOUR ASS" guy meets the Spanish Armada.
A.D. 1603: Tokugawa Ieyasu unites the feuding pancake-eating ninjas of Japan.
A.D. 1611: Mattel adds Galileo Galilei to its CyberPatrol block list for proposing that the Earth revolves around the sun.
A.D. 1688: In the so-called "Glorious Revolution", King James II is bloodlessly forced out of power and flees to France. ESR again triumphantly proclaims that the British monarchy "gets it".
A.D. 1692: Anti-GIF hysteria in the New World comes to a head in the infamous "Salem GIF Trials", in which 20 alleged GIFs are burned at the stake. Later investigation reveals that many of the supposed GIFs were actually PNGs.
A.D. 1769: James Watt patents the one-click steam engine.
A.D. 1776: Trolls, angered by CmdrTaco's passage of the Moderation Act, rebel. After a several-year flame war, the trolls succeed in seceding from Slashdot and forming the United Coalition of Trolls.
A.D. 1789: The French Revolution begins with a distributed denial of service (DDoS) attack on the Bastille.
A.D. 1799: Attempts at discovering Egyptian hieroglyphs receive a major boost when Napoleon's troops discover the Rosetta stone. Sadly, the stone is quickly outlawed under the DMCA as an illegal means of circumventing encryption.
A.D. 1844: Samuel Morse invents Morse code. Cryptography export restrictions prevent the telegraph's use outside the U.S. and Canada.
A.D. 1853: United States Commodore Matthew C. Perry arrives in Japan and forces the xenophobic nation to open its doors to foreign trade. ESR triumphantly proclaims that Japan finally "gets it".
A.D. 1865: President Lincoln is 'bitchslapped.' The nation mourns.
A.D. 1901: Italian inventor Guglielmo Marcoli first demonstrates the radio. Metallica drummer Lars Ulrich immediately delivers to Marcoli a list of 335,435 suspected radio users.
A.D. 1911: Facing a break-up by the United States Supreme Court, Standard Oil Co. defends its "freedom to innovate" and proposes numerous rejected settlements. Slashbots mock the company as "Standa~1" and depict John D. Rockefeller as a member of the Borg.
A.D. 1929: V.A. Linux's stock drops over 200 dollars on "Black Tuesday", October 29th.
A.D. 1945: In the secret Manhattan Project, scientists working in Los Alamos, New Mexico, construct a nuclear bomb from Star Wars Legos.
A.D. 1948: Slashdot runs the infamous headline "DEWEY DEFEATS TRUMAN." Shamefaced, the site quickly retracts the story when numerous readers point out that it is not news for nerds, stuff that matters.
A.D. 1965: Jon Katz delivers his famous "I Have A Post-Hellmouth Dream" speech, which stated: "I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the geeks of former slaves and the geeks of former slave geeks will be able to sit down together at the table of geeks... I have a dream that my geek little geeks will one geek live in a nation where they will not be geeked by the geek of their geek but by the geek of their geek."
A.D. 1969: Neil Armstrong becomes the first man to set foot on the moon. His immortal words: "FIRST MOONWALK!!!"
A.D. 1970: Ohio National Guardsmen shoot four students at Kent State University for "Internet theft".
A.D. 1989: The United States invades Panama to capture renowned "hacker" Manual Noriega, who is suspected of writing the DeCSS utility.
A.D. 1990: West Germany and East Germany reunite after 45 years of separation. ESR triumphantly proclaims that Germany "gets it".
A.D. 1994: As years of apartheid rule finally end, Nelson Mandela is elected president of South Africa. ESR is sick, and sadly misses his chance to triumphantly proclaim that South Africa "gets it".
A.D. 1997: Slashdot reports that Scottish scientists have succeeded in cloning a female sheep named Dolly. Numerous readers complain that if they had wanted information on the latest sheep releases, they would have just gone to freshsheep.net
A.D. 1999: Miramax announces Don Knotts to play hacker Emmanuel Goldstein in upcoming movie "Takedown"
Slashdot is a website that uses the subtitle "News For Nerds. Stuff That Matters." It is the result of the work and efforts of several people, notably Rob "CmdrTaco" Malda and Jeff "Hemos" Bates. It is a fantastic site, and is one of the best places on the web for finding technology-related news. It has grown over the years, and is now owned by Andover.net (although it's still run by CmdrTaco and Hemos), but it's still a place where anybody can learn about things that are going on in the world, comment on them, and discuss them. It's a great site, and I've been checking it on a daily basis (immediately after reading e-mail) for over a year.
There has been some discussion about the site as it grows. There are always people who feel the best way to contribute to a conversation is to comment on spelling mistakes in a post, or how they submitted a link to the same story and it didn't get posted, or how it shouldn't be on Slashdot in the first place.
These people seem to forget that the site was created as a place for Rob and Jeff to talk about the things that interest them. They may not be interested by the same things as the regular readers. Hell, they may not even be interested by some of the stuff that does get posted, but they post it because many of the readers seem to enjoy it (based on the volume of comments and quality of discussion.) They've never claimed to be an on-line Wall Street Journal of technology, and they've never claimed to cater to the tastes of anyone else. This is their site. They've got some other people working on it because it's become so popular, but it hasn't really changed. (At least, it hasn't changed drastically in the time I've been reading it, and they've added a few editors in those months.) These guys are doing a damn fine job. They've created a great forum, and asked nothing in return. What do they get in return? Abuse. A lot of it.
They take abuse because they make mistakes in their English that are easy to spot and correct. So what? The vast majority of these grammatical and spelling errors don't obscure the content of the piece. Nobody's perfect; deal with it and move on. Yes, they can run it through a spelling checker, but then they'd have to deal with the creative handles used by the submitter, the technical jargon that crops up in the kinds of stories they run, and the acronyms that appear along with this jargon. A lot of correctly spelled words would be flagged with the mistakes. It's not that important.
These guys also take abuse because some people abuse the site. They have trolls, just like the ones that appear on Usenet. In my experience, there are five kinds of trolls on Slashdot.
The Fist Prost Troll.
This troll exists because the site allows people to post comments and discuss articles. However, this troll doesn't care about the article itself; he/she only cares about being the first person to post a comment in that discussion. This means that many articles begin with five or six comments that say nothing but "I got the first post! Nya nya!" Well, I say, so what? This is not a race; it's a place to have intelligent conversation with people who share your interests.
The Slashdot programmers have come up with ways to reduce these trolls. They've restricted people from posting articles with the subject "First Post," which has led to the popular "Fist Prost" misspelling. The moderation system also helps. (More on that later.) There's no way to completely remove these pests without resorting to censorship. Those who created Slashdot refuse to take this step. Great!
The Goat-Boy Troll
These guys try to sound intelligent, and offer links to a website described as informative and relevant, but when you click on the link you are sent to photos depicting people fornicating with their barnyard friends, or other such irrelevant imagery that most web surfers don't want to see. (I'm just glad I browse with images off.) I don't know what they hope to accomplish by this. I picture these people are young, immature, and stoned out of their minds. I can think of no other mental state which would let them find this amusing. (It's not even like they can see your reaction when you click the link, if you do. They don't even know if it gets clicked on at all. Unless they also administrate the site, but then they've probably got far more psychological problems than I thought...)
The Slander Troll
These people post off-topic diatrab promoting their own favorite dogma. They sometimes post long, prepared essays full of contrived events about individuals the Slashdot community considers famous, such as Linus Torvalds, Rob, Jeff, Eric S. Raymond, Richard Stallman, or other talented and well-respected individuals. Sometimes they just respond to existing, productive comments with wholly unbased and unwarranted conjectures about the original poster's sexual preferences. Still others post about the sinners of the world, and why their particular religion or cult is the only one that will save us all from the pits of Hell.
These people contribute nothing to the conversation. The moderation system usually gets them correctly labeled within minutes, allowing the rest of us to get on with the discussion. And yet, Rob and Jeff still get e-mail about these "evil" posters.
The Karma Whore
These are people who post things which can be totally fabricated, simply regurgitations of the information available, bashing individuals or companies unpopular among Slashdot readers, or any other form of redundant or pointless contribution for the purpose of collecting "karma." This is described in more detail below, but suffice it to say that those individuals who consider collecting karma to be a status symbol need to get out more, and make some friends in meatspace.
The Thinking Troll
These are the only trolls I have any respect for. Some of them aren't even trying to troll.
Some of these trolls take the time to come up with humourous comments that actually relate to the topic at hand. Others actually have the audacity to say things like "Microsoft is not completely evil." These are the ones that result in the most hate mail for Rob and Jeff. They actually post things that some people like, so the moderators don't always drag their messages to the bottom of the heap. This is because they occasionally say things that actually contribute to the conversation. (Heaven forbid!)
The Moderation System
In all five cases, the moderation system works well. The moderation system on Slashdot allows frequent posters and readers occasional privelages to promote or demote comments. You can qualify a certain post as Funny, Interesting, Informative, Redundant, Troll, Flamebait, etc. and it will be "scored" accordingly. If the adjective is positive, the comment gets a higher score. If it's a negative adjective, the comment gets a lower score. If you posted that comment, your personal "karma" points on the Slashdot records will also increase or decrease. If your posts tend to get moderated down, they will start at lower scores. If they tend to get moderated up, you start to post with higher scores. The people reading Slashdot can then choose to only read posts that have a score higher than X, to sort comments so that those with the highest scores come first, etc. The moderators rank the posts, and the users decide how much they want to read, and what they choose to ignore. The system works very well.
The problems for Rob and Jeff come in when people decide that bad decisions made by moderators are the fault of the system's creators. Some of these trolls are trolling to demonstrate their perceived flaws in the system. Guess what guys? If you don't troll, then any flaws that might exist won't matter. Some troll because they are amused by it. So what? The moderation system weeds out the absolute crap by rapidly giving it the lowest possible score. If the post isn't absolute crap, it might not get modded that low.
Rob and Jeff work hard, and do a good job. In return, people send them abusive mail because some people with computer access aren't terribly mature. Well, as far as I'm concerned, Slashdot administrators are not to blame. They are trying to design and operate a system that allows several thousand people to discuss things they are interested in, without restricting the content in any way. It is an uncensored forum, and they are trying to make it the best possible site they can with the hardware they have available. If you have a problem with the trolls on Slashdot, take it up with the trolls. Their e-mail addresses are usually available in their posts. Deal with them directly. Rob and Jeff have enough to do.
CmdrTaco raped me up the butt and gave me $5 for a story a month ago.
I disagree with this moderation.
Also, CmdrTaco licks my nuts. His tounge is very dry.
'Twas the night before Christmas,
And all over the 'Net,
All the posts about Intel,
Made everyone fret,
The whiners were vocal,
They wouldn't shut up,
Complaining about Intel's,
FDIV cover up,
The engineers were nestled,
All snug in their labs,
Worrying about Intel's,
Mistake in the fabs,
They made up excuses,
On how they're affected,
They called upon Intel,
And were promptly rejected,
And soon IBM jumped,
Right into the fray,
"We'll stop shipping Pentiums,
As of later today."
But their statement was just,
More political lies,
Because they said the next day,
"We're still shipping those dies!"
But from where came this noise,
And vindictive clatter,
About a minor flaw,
That should not have mattered,
Well there was a math prof,
Doing work in V A,
He came to realize that,
Divs shouldn't happen this way,
So Prof. Nicely described,
The bug that he found,
It wasn't too long later,
That news got around,
Lots of people complained,
Without reason or rhyme,
Just because number five,
Equalled four point nine nine,
The media latched on,
And rumors were spread,
It took no time to proclaim,
That Intel was dead,
As I was reading more news,
A thought came to me,
Intel can't possibly die,
The have a monopoly,
So on Andy, on Craig,
On Gordon and Vin,
Make sure with P6,
This doesn't happen again,
As I logged off, I thought:
"This debate is absurd."
So I soon logged back in,
And uttered these words,
"There are too many issues,
I refuse to take sides.
Merry Christmas to all,
And watch your divides."
CmdrTaco's dildos.
He likes to ram them up his pee pee and also ram them up CowboyNeal's and Jamie's asses.
CMDRTACO IS GAY GAY GAY.
We need a BeOS port as well.
Once upon a time there was a bishounen called... umm... Dilandau, yeah, that
was his name. Well, every1 called him Little Red Prettyboy cuz he had garnet
eyes and always wore cherry red armour. Not to mention he was totally drop
dead gorgeous! He had lovely eyes, and beautiful silver hair and an unhealthy
fascination with fire... Woops, I'm rambling. Anyway, one day his... umm...
Dad (*snicker*), Dornkirk, gave him a basket and told him to take it to his
cousins, Folken (Here birdie, birdie, birdie!) and Van (*beep, beep!*).
So, Dilly took the basket and went into the creepy forest. But he wasn't
scared. Nothing scared him. He walked, and walked, and walked, and walk...
Well, I think you get the picture. Then he came across a spring.
"Boing, boing!" it said, springing away. He shrugged and continued walking
to Folken and Van's house. On his way he saw some bee's, which looked like
this: >B (A B! *snicker* That was so pathetic, I know!)
Soon he came to a river. He sat down and had some lunch.
"Oh... umm... hello," said a voice. A boy with bonde hair and blue eyes sat
down beside him. "I'm Chesta."
"Dilandau," said Dilly.
"So, where are you going, Dilandau?" asked Chesta.
"My cousins house," said Dilandau.
"Oh. Well, I gotta go. Bye!" Chesta ran off. Dilandau watched him then
shrugged.
"Weird boy," he said. "Rather cute, though." (All right, who are you and what
didja do with Dilly-chan?!) He continued on his way.
Meanwhile Chesta raced towards Folken and Van's house, visions of naked
Dilandau in his head (*drool*). He got there and found Folken and Van (*beep,
beep* Sorry, couldn't help myself!). With them was Allen, Folken's
girlfriend; and Hitomi, Van's girlfriend. (I knew it! Allen is a GIRL!) He
shoved them in the cellar and locked the door. (Eeeww... Folken and Allen...
Hmm... Could be worse, though. Could be Allen and Van doing bad things. And
Hitomi with Folken...)
Well, anyways, 3 hours later (Jeez, how long does it take for Dilandau to
walk 5 miles?) Dilandau was nearing his cousins' house. But then he saw some
pretty little bluebells. He grinned evilly and pulled a flame-thrower from
Flamespace and toasted the evil little bells that were blue. (Yay! Die you
evil blue bells, you!) 5 minutes later he was at the house, feeling better
for setting the bluebells on fire.
"Folken! Van! I'm here with your..." Dilandau looked inside the basket.
"Always Ultra!" Dilandau paled and did a double-take. He was very confused.
"Always Ultra? Isn't that the stuff women use for when they have periods?"
"It's probably for their girlfriends," said Chesta. "Your cousins are out
just now. They said they're really sorry they couldn't be here to meet you."
(Hah! Even Chesta agrees that Allen's a girl!)
"Oh, hi Chesta," said Dilandau.
"Sit down while I make some tea," said Chesta. Dilandau sat down and Chesta
made some tea (*blech!*). He gave a cup to Dilandau and sat down beside him.
They stood up again after drinking their tea. Suddenly they had the urge to
dance. Suddenly they did... the macerina! While singing the Escaflowne theme
tune.
While they were dancing they somehow became naked and and in the throws of
passion. (Okay... wunder where they got the passion fruit and the
cat-a-pult...) So, anyway, they were have mad-bunnies-on-aphrodisiac-sex.
(*drools* Naked Dilandau and Chesta... *^_~*)
So, the next day found Chesta and Dilandau curled up together, sleeping
peacfully. Dilandau held Chesta and Chesta held Dilandau. It was sweet.
Adorable, in fact. Except that they were on the couch. And sweaty from all
the sex and fore-play. (I wonder where they got the lube from?)
Suddenly Dilandau's fiance, Merle, showed up! ( *-_-* Dilly and Merle?
Eeewww!) She was really here looking for Van (*beep! beep!*) cuz she was head
over tail for him. But then she saw Dilly and Chesta and scowled ferosciously.
"DILANDAU!" she shrieked like the bitch-that-never-dies from Gundam Wing.
The 2 boys were totally startled out of their cute little slumber and fell
off the couch. Merle pulled a giant pink mallet from Malletspace and proceded
to pound Dilandau and Chesta into mash.
Meanwhile in the forest the 14 Dragon Rangers were... umm... ranging, yeah,
that's what they were doing. Well, like I said, they were running around
raving about Dragons. And making sure the forest was nice and clean, too.
When suddenly, to their utmost surprise, 2 girls appeared. Both of them had
brown hair and blue eyes. 1 of them wore a red jumper and black jeans while
the other wore a lilac T-shirt and green jeans. (Green and lilac? Oh-kay...)
"Who are you?" demanded the boy with a mop of curly hair. (Here, sheepy,
sheepy, sheepy!)
"I am Lynn God, ruler of the multiverse and creator of... umm... creation!"
cried the girl in lilac and green.
"And I am the Author, Escagirl," said the girl in red and black.
"Oh. What do you want?" asked the guy with the rose who had this 'I'm vain'
look on his face.
"Your compatriot-"
"Is that a word?" asked Escagirl.
"If it isn't, it is now. Now shut up!" said Lynn God. "Now, like I was
saying, your compatriot, Chesta, seduced the incredibly gorgeous Lord
Dilandau. Now they are being beaten to a pulp by Dilandau's cat-girl fiance."
"Chesta's being beat up! We must save him!" cried a guy with purple-ish hair.
"And Lord Dilandau, too."
"Yeah, well, that's why we're giving you this nuclear bomb," said Escagirl.
"Really? Cool!" cried the sheep-boy. (Isn't that out of character for
Guimel?) They took the nuclear bomb and ran off for Folken and Van's (*beep,
beep!*) house.
"Was that wise, O Great Ones?" asked Raphael, the only loose angel.
"Sure. The bomb will only destroy Merle. It will also give Dilandau a really
big flame-thrower that he can use to toast that nasty draconian boy, Van. Or
'beep, beep' as Esca-chan keeps calling him," said Lynn God. They disappeared.
The 14 Dragon Rangers ran into the house and stopped at what they saw. Most
of them ran off, blood mysteriously spraying from their noses. (Naughty,
naughty!) All that was left was the vain dude, the sheep boy, uh... the
weirdly loyal dude, the messanger boy, and... uh... the one we never see in
the show.
Guimel, the sheep boy, pulled out the pin in the nuclear bomb and handed it
to Merle.
"What's this?" she asked.
"It's a rare and exotic fruit from the Mystic Moon, lovely Merle. You eat it
whole to get it's full effects," said Dalet, the vain dude.
"Oh. You're sweet." Merle, the niave and annoying little brat, ate the bomb
in 1 big swallow. Suddenly she was blown into smithereens. All yelled 'Yay!'.
Suddenly Folken (Here birdie, birdie, birdie!), Van (*beep, beep!*), Allen
(Die!) and Hitomi (Witch!) came rushing into the room. They stopped and
stared at the naked Dilandau and Chesta. (Ecchi's!) Van, Folken and Allen
fainted, blood leaking from their noses. (Naughty, naughty, naughty!) Hitomi
grinned suddenly.
"Hey, Dilandau, Chesta, wanna have a 4-some with me and Van sometime? Or
just a 3-some with me?" she asked. The Dragon Rangers and Dilandau fainted
from shock. "What'd I say?" Hitomi asked in bemusement.
Guess you're wunderin' why that giant flame-thrower never showed up, ain't
ya? Well, it was kidnapped by fire-crazed fire sprites who worshipped
Dilandau. *^_^*
~OWARI~
Dilly: I want my chocolate!
Chesta: *giggles, staring into the stars* Dilandau, Dilandau, where for art
thou Dilandau?
Gatti: Chesta, you do know that 'where for art thou Dilandau?' means 'why's
your name Dilandau?', don't ya?
Chesta: *blushes* Oh. *-_-*
Dilandau: I'm right here, and my name's Dilandau cuz it is.
Viole: Why?
Dilandau: Cuz that's the name I was given at birth.
Viole: Why?
Dilandau: Beacause they heard voices!
Viole: Why?
Dilandau: *>_* SHUT THE FUCK UP! *slaps Viole*
Viole: *dazed* Oooh, lookit all the pretty pink flowers doing the macerina...
@~}~~Escagirl
FIRST BOFH TROLl post!
[*] I cum in CmdrTaco's butt
Yt another crippling bombshell hit th beleaguered *BSD community when last month IDC confirmed that *BSD accounts for less than a fraction of 1 percent of ll servers. Coming on the heels of the latest Ntcraft survey which plainly states that *BSD has lost more market share, this news serves to reinforce what we've known all along. *BSD is collapsing in complete disarray, as further exemplified by failing dead last in th recent Sys Admin comprehensive networking test.
You don't need to be a Kreskin to predict *BSD's future. The hand writing is on the wall: *BSD faces a bleak future. In fact there won't be any future at all for *BSD because *BSD is dying. Things are looking very bad for *BSD. As many of us are already aware, *BSD continues to lose market share. Red ink flows like a river of blood. FreeBSD is the most endangered of them all.
Let's keep to the facts and look at the numbers.
OpenBSD leader Theo states that there are 7000 users of OpenBSD. How many users of NetBSD are there? Let's see. The number of OpenBSD versus NetBSD posts on Usenet is roughly in ratio of 5 to 1. Therefore there are about 7000/5 = 1400 NetBSD users. BSD/OS posts on Usenet are about half of the volume of NetBSD posts. Therefore there are about 700 users of BSD/OS. A recent article put FreeBSD at about 80 percent of the *BSD market. Therefore there are (7000+1400+700)*4 = 36400 FreeBSD users. This is consistent with the number of FreeBSD Usenet posts.
Due to the troubles of Walnut Creek, abysmal sales and so on, FreeBSD went out of business and was taken over by BSDI who sell another troubled OS. Now BSDI is also dead, its corpse turned over to yet another charnel house.
All major surveys show that *BSD has steadily declined in market share. *BSD is very sick nd its long term survival prospects are very dim. If *BSD is to survive at all it will be among OS hobbyist dabblers. *BSD continues to decay. Nothing short of a miracle could save it at this point in time. For ll practical purposes, *BSD is dead.
*BSD is dying
BRITNEY SPEARS MEETS MARVIN THE MARTIAN
by Hamster
A huge metallic disc approached earth at an incredible speed, with the
amazing abilities of a gravity defying design, the ship slowed drastically
after entering the atmosphere and changed tragictory 180 degrees in mid
air. In mid-flight the metallic UFO stopped then slowly decended to earth.
It landed outside a small town in northern Luisiana.
The door of the large metal ship opened and an escalater telescoped its
way down to the ground.
Marvin (the Martian) took the escalater down to terra-ferma.
A mechanical arm came down from the ship and handed Marvin a note.
"Dear Agent Marvin,
Your mission is to capture a female earth creature and mate with her,
then bring her to Mars so that we may have the product of that union.
-Martian High Council
P.S.-Thank you for the cookies."
"Oh, how delightful." Marvin commented.
A second metallic arm sprung from the ship. This time the arm deposited
a wooden crate on the ground in front of the Martian.
The front of the crate popped open allowing a green martian dog to step
out. The dog saluted Marvin with one of his green floppy ears. He the
reached under his helmet with this same ear and produced a note.
"Dear captain,
Agent K-9 reporting as ordered."
"Oh K-9, our mission is to kidnap and mate with an earth woman. isn't
that simply delightful? Come along now we must find an earthling female."
The pair strolled through the woods and before long they came across an
attractive blonde earth female who was drinking a V8 Splash. She wore white
silk pants and a white t-shirt.
Marvin and K-9 approached the female together.
"Uhh whats up, dude?" She asked in her southern accent.
"I am Marvin the martian and this is my subordinate, K-9. We have come
to earth seeking an earth female to impregnate, now dosn't that sound
delightful?." He asked.
"Oh hello, I'm Britney. Sorry I can't talk but I have a picnic to go to.
Good luck with that whole impregnation thing."She said tossing aside her
now empty V8 bottle and began walking away.
"Oh my goodness K-9, do you suppose all earth females act like that?"
Marvin asked.
K-9 shrugged.
Marvin stepped up behind Britney and tapped her on the shoulder.
"Pardon me, but you are coming to Mars and I'm gong to impregnate you."
Marvin informed her.
Britney raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.
"And suppose I don't want to go to Mars and be impregnated?" She asked.
Marvin took out his disintigrater and obliterated a boulder.
"Eep!" Britney's eyes widened in terror and her jaw hung slack.
She made dash for bottom the flying saucer's escalater that left a dust
cloud in her wake.
She put a conducters hat on began to ring a cow bell.
"ALL ABOOOOOOOOOOOARD, flying saucer leaving for Neptune, Pluto, Your
Anus, and Mars."She announced.
Marvin and K-9 rushed to the escalater, not wanting to miss the trip.
"Hurry, hurry you don't want to miss your trip" Britney said as she
shood the alien pair onto the space ship.
The escalater retracted back into the ship. With a hum and a whoosh the
ship took off into the sky. It zoomed past the moon and made a b-line
for Mars. Just before entering the atmosphere of the red planet it
stopped. It zoomed back the way it came and landed in the spot it had
taken off from a few minutes before. Marvin and K-9 descended the
escalater.
Marvin stepped up to Britney, huffing and puffing with rage, his fists
where balled up at his sides.
"Oooo you have made me very angry." He said.
"Calm down shorty, look its not that I don't want to go to Mars with
you. I do, really. Its just that I dont want to get involved in no
mutiny" Britney leaned in and whispered something into Marvin's ear as
pointed to K-9.
K-9 raised his ear and leaned in a bit trying to hear what was said.
When she finished explaining both she and Marvin both looked at K-9
angrilly.
Marvin whipped out his disintegrater and fired a blast at K-9. The
Martian dog jumped into his helmet to avoid the burst.
K-9 waved a white flag in one ear while handing Marvin a note with the
other.
"Dear Marvin,
What have I done?
- K-9" The note read.
"Let that be a lesson to you. I shall have no Mutiny I aboard my ship."
Marvin said angrilly.
Marvin turned to see that Britney was running away at full speed.
Marvin unslung a second weapon. This one fired a straight jacket that
wrapped itself snuggly around Britney's sexy body.
several minutes later, aboard Marvin's ship...
"Now when I remove this straight jacket, you are going to mate with me
Earthling. And I'll have no funny buisness." Marvin said.
"Who me? I've been looking forward to this." Britney lied with an
innocent look on her face.
"Oh goodey!" Marvin said, clapping his hands together enthusiastically.
Marvin released the straps on Britney's straight jacket.
Britney decided to cooperate, for the time being.
She removed her top non-chalantly, this elicited the appropriate
response from Marvin. The Martian's eyes bugged out and his tongue hung
out as he stared at her naked tits.
Britney unzipped her pants and let them fall to her ankles. She then
pulled her panties down to reviel her stunning pink pussy lips.
Marvin was mesmerised.
Britney smiled and got on all fours.
Marvin reached under his kilt and pulled out his hardening martian
man-meat.
The martian stood behind Britney and put his cock head to the singer's
juicey wet cunt.
Marvin grabbed a hold of her hips and began pumping her with a steady
rythem.
"Mmm mmm mmm oh oh oh yes." Britney moaned.
Britneys tits swayed forward and back as she pushed against his
strokes. Marvin leaned forward and reached under her chest so he could
squeeze her ripe tits as he fucked her. His finger dug into the firm
flesh of her large tits as she masterfully tightened her pussy over his
cock.
Britney's chest tightened and she sharply took in air. She came to an
orgasm, biting her lip to stop from screaming. Her girl cum splashing
all over his cock.
Marvin slid his cock out of Britney's sloppy wet pussy and slid it into
her tight ass hole. There was a slurpy, sloshy sound as he banged
Britney in the back door with his cum girl-splattered dick.
"Mmm rrrr" Britney moaned with discomfort.
Marvin released Britney's tits and took took squeezing her shapely butt
cheeks. Marvin ruthlessly pounded her ass faster and faster. Soon
enough he felt an orgasm welling up inside him.
"Oh goodness YES!" He cried as shot his load with an audible splat.
Marvin fell backwards, dizzy. Little birds circled his head.
"Oh goodness that was so delightfull." He said dizzilly.
When he finally regained his composure and his vision cleared all he
saw was the barrel of his own disintegrater gun aimed at him.
"Change in flight plans." Britney said with a smile.
Christina Aguilera yawned. Britney was a half hour late for their
picnic. She had the nice large blanket laid ot for them as well as a
basket full of food and a portable CD player with both their last CDs.
Christina picked up a rock and flung it as she could.
This was the first time she'd ever been stood up, and she didn't like
it.
Suddenly she heard a strange humming sound. Strange green lights
swirled around her.
She was very surprised to look up and see a UFO hovering above her. A
huge door opened in the ships side allowing an escalater to slide down
to the ground.
Christina was VERY surprised to see Britney coming down the escalater
to the ground in front of her. Britney was even more suprisingly,
completely naked!
Sure it was a big time saver, but it was kind of wierd.
"Sorry I'm late, but I got tied up." Britney said.
"Oh," Christina said,"Well I have a cell phone, hello."
"OK, OK, I said I was sorry. I'll make it up to you" Britney smiled.
Christina cracked a smile, "You sure will."
Christina pressed her-self against Britney's hot bod struck her tongue
between the other blonde's lips. As the two sexy singers grappled with
each other's moist tongues Christina took the apportunity to squeeze
Britney's firm butt cheeks.
Britney helped Christina strip her cloths off so that the horney pair
could really get down to buisness.
Christina reached into her picnic basket and pulled out her strap-on
dildo. Britney obligingly put it on.
Christina laid down on her back and raised her mid section slightly
in the air. Britney got on her knees in front between Christina's legs.
Britney put the tip of the dildo to Christina's pussy. Christina
wrapped her legs around Britney's waist and Britney took hold of
Christina's hips. With Britney thrust forward to begin fucking
Christina with incredible energy and enthusiasm.
Christina shook with each thrust her arms flailing wildly, until she
decided to reach up and grap Britney's firm melons for support.
Christina cried out loubly as her slim body shook with a satsfyingly
strong orgasm.
Britney pulled out and Christina laid back limp and gasping. Britney
unstrapped the dildo and lay atop her friend.
"Whew!" Christina huffed,"That was fantastic!"
"Thanx, hey I got a space ship wanna go shopping on Mars?"
Marvin grumbled unhappily as he gave the cashier his credit card.
Britney had a disintegrater casually pointed at his head.
"Are you two quite done I have almost maxed out my card!!!" Marvin
whined.
"No, we still gotta go to the W.B. store. And we should go to the food
court and get a couple of Pepsis." Britney said.
"Cokes" Christina corrected.
Marvin sighed and lowered his head saidly as he was made to carry
everything the two popstars bought.
Kum Dad up my Ethernet card.
OH NOS. HAXORS.
Please shut the fuck up.
The PLATNUM SHOWER is BETTER.
"I don't think you realise who I am."
..
..."
...
..."
..." the PFY chips.
..."
..."
The PFY pauses for a minute. "Hmm...Carter, accounts. Room 402, extension 6473, date of birth June 22, 1963. Married, one child - not yours. A cider drinker. Drive a red Volvo with a faulty rear light and collect beer coasters. Your password is...ahhhhmmm."
"Something to do with fish," I hint.
"Driftnet," the PFY cries.
"Excellent," I respond, turning to our latest visitor. "Can I have a sports question please?"
"But...I..."
"No, sports," I reply firmly.
While our user wanders off, I fill out the practical section of the PFY's final exam sheet.
"Let's see. Yes, you achieved the correct amount of disorientation and demoralisation. You also get a couple of bonus points by planting the seeds of doubt with the 'not yours' comment. Now, onto the theoretical section. The hard disk on your personal machine fails out of warranty period. What would you do?"
"Swap it with the boss's so he gets it replaced immediately, then, when the new disk arrives, format the boss's old one and reinstall it in his machine."
"Yeeesss. But remember that you're being marked for proactivity too..."
"Oh of course!" the PFY blurts guiltily. "Then swap it into one of the consultants' machines so that you always have a standby disk for the future."
"Excellent. Now, you're helping users out in your spare time, when..."
The PFY laughs out loud.
"Correct. Next question: the boss has bought a piece of kit that is so old that even the engineers understand how it works. How would you get rid of it?"
"Drop it down several flights of stairs?"
"Too suspicious."
"Flick the mains switch to 115 volts for a little while?"
"He'll replace the power supply."
"Umm... I know, direct a heat gun into its cooling vents."
"Correct. Complete this statement: all power corrupts, absolute power..."
"..is even more fun!"
"Correct. Your boss and a client are plummeting towards the footpath after cornering you for two hours with their thoughts on the future of computing. Who would hit the ground first?"
"Who cares?"
"Correct. Judging solely by his attitude, how does the boss believe our network is managed?"
"By FM management."
"Be more specific."
"F***ing magic."
"Correct. How long would it take an engineer to change a flat?"
"It depends on how many replacement flats he brought with him."
"Correct. Still on that topic, an engineer happens to mention the words 'that's interesting'. What has happened?"
"Uh, he's either broken your computer, lost his screwdriver inside it somewhere, put it back together with lots of parts left over or encountered some error that he's never seen before."
"So?"
"Oh, he just says it to pass the time because he's not allowed to say 'bollocks' in the presence of a customer."
"Precisely. One of your users brings his home computer for you to fix. You..."
"Solder the circuit breaker shut, crank the voltage adjustments to full power, swap out any good memory chips for crap and install a virus on their hard disk."
"And?"
"Whoopsy - charge them mates' rates of 20 quid for your time."
"Yep. Complete this: the meek shall inherit..."
"...what they're bloody well given. And be thankful for it."
"Correct. You have scored a total of 10 out of 10 in the theoretical section, passing on none. As your final task you must generate, then deal with, 50 user complaints in two minutes. Your time starts now!"
An hour later we're observing the smoking remains of the beancounters' comms cupboard.
"Freak wiring mishap?" the PFY asks the fire investigating officer.
"Looks that way," he replies, much to the annoyance of the head beancounter, who is not as stupid as he looks. "It seems that someone had replaced the five amp plug fuse on a portable lamp with a piece of nail resulting in a small fire when the cord insulation became pierced when it got trapped in the door. Just an accident waiting to happen."
"Yes, and how particularly tragic that accounts were storing all the historic purchasing records for the IT department in this very cupboard, even though we warned them of the fire risk," I add.
"Very tragic," the PFY concurs.
Later at a pub in the heart of Soho I congratulate the PFY on his promotion to the position of 'master bastard' by buying him a lager for a change.
"So that's it then?" the PFY comments.
"IT?" I cry. "This is just the beginning. Starting tomorrow it's time for graduate studies." Even at this level, the poor guy still has so much to learn. Like how easy it is to slip a laxative into a lager for a start.
--
It's mid-afternoon, and we're in the middle of our annual 'improve the perception of IT' fortnight. Things are going just great.
The boss has a bee in his bonnet about my liberal interpretation of the promotional slogan 'delivering what the client needs'. Apparently, my helpdesk instruction sheets on how to deliver 'a damn good kicking' weren't within the intended scope of the motto...
He was in an even worse mood after the hand-proximity sensor on the line printer failed to operate while he was attempting to stop said instruction sheets from printing. The fast moving paper gave him a large and deep paper cut that he won't be forgetting in a hurry. And the PFY and I certainly don't know how that heavily salted water got into the first aid antiseptic bottle.
But his irritation began after spotting a publicity photo of one of the members of the company's football team (sponsored by the IT division) walking around with his football jersey untucked. Beautifully crafted, and costing enough to make a beancounter weep, the jerseys have a lovely little IT crest (a couple of crossed keyboards on a burning PC background, emblazoned on the left breast). The words 'IT - giving you more' are in large letters on the back. When untucked however, the words 'of a shafting' become visible. The boss was not impressed.
The PFY and I make no attempts to escape his wrath knowing full well that he has to pass the head of IT's room to get to us. He's not so keen on doing that since some complete bastard uploaded a new ring sound to the head's cellphone - a sound not dissimilar to that made by a lentil casserole after its trip through the digestive tract.
Accordingly, the IT department managers' meeting he attended this morning was a swift affair, and certainly not one that really should have been 'aired' as a live video conference and PR opportunity. Even the cafeteria staff saw it and wouldn't serve him the onion bhajis at lunchtime.
Not that I feel sorry for the boss. The whole 'improve the perception of IT' initiative was all his fault in the first place for mentioning that it 'must be about that time of the year' to the head of IT.
No-one likes these PR weeks because the bosses like to answer all those stupid user questions such as: 'Can I send 1,000 copies of my CV to the printer? Can I talk to one of your network guys for an hour or two?' and 'Do you know who set my car on fire?' with 'yes', 'yes', and 'no' instead of the far more appropriate 'not if you want to see another birthday, not if you want to see another birthday', and, 'us, we thought it was your birthday.'
But the thing that really puts the boss under the gun is that he's invoked a 'response time' clause in our contracts that was meant for call-out duties which says we have to respond within a reasonable amount of time to a user's problems.
In PR week, 'reasonable' means 10 minutes. Now perhaps the boss can have a good game of MDK in 10 minutes, but a networking professional cannot!
Sure enough, I'm just firing up MDK when the phone goes.
"Hello?"
"Yes?" I ask, expecting the worst.
"I've got a problem with my network."
Here we go...
"Hmmm?" Why waste words on these morons? They're much happier with a bit of grunting and a few soothing clucking noises.
"It's a little difficult to explain over the phone - could someone come up?"
Sigh.
I flip the PFY for it and am stunned when I lose. Then I realise that the little bastard has switched my double headed 50 pence for a double tail model.
It really does me proud to see him turning out so well.
Of course, I still won't be telling him that I removed the safety grille from the whirring blades of the cooling fan at the back of his PC, but there you go.
I get to the user's office and it's the same old thing. They moved the PC and the network stopped.
"But it never used to do that."
"No, but now that we don't use thin wire network cabling it does."
"That doesn't sound like a good move."
I manage to extricate myself an hour later (after the story about how technology was much more reliable in the 1950s) and get back to the office.
The PFY chuckles maliciously.
"He rang back - the lead's fallen out of the computer and he's scared to plug it in."
"A separate call," I cry, "that makes it your turn!"
"Toss you for it?" he asks, not understanding where the line should be drawn.
"I'll go for tails for a change."
"Bastard!" Sensibly, the PFY doesn't admit to anything.
"Oh, by the way, make sure to mention how reliable IT is nowadays, especially when compared to the 1950s..."
The PFY grumbles a bit before slouching over to the door.
"Have you seen my access card?"
"Yeah," I reply, "I needed it to get into the comms room this morning. I think it fell down the back of your PC. On the cooling fan side..."
--
It's the final week of the PR fortnight and things have calmed down. People don't call us for the 'guaranteed response' so much. Perhaps it's something to do with the type of response they're guaranteed.
The geeks in the systems department are miles ahead of networks in the popularity stakes after blatantly bribing the users by shoving a terabyte of disk at them and electronically yelling "help yourself." Nothing short of upgrading everyone to 100 Meg Ethernet is going to bring us up to their level. The systems department must be brought down.
The terabyte of disk space is the first to go - about 20 in-depth 'treatments' with the rapid-freeze spray then the heat-gun along the drive electronics is sufficient to introduce the fabled 'random factor' into file safety.
The boss, meantime, is trying to curry favour with the masses by announcing a massive memory upgrade to the applications server to give it some real performance, disregarding completely the bottleneck analysis software pointing to desktop network speed. There's no helping some people.
Sure enough, a few hours later we have an engineer outside our office trying to edge into the computer room.
"What the hell's he doing here?" I ask.
"What do you mean?" The PFY is momentarily confused.
"Shouldn't he be stuck in a lift somewhere?"
"Oh of course! It completely slipped my mind. You'll be wanting the 5th floor." He indicates a lift only ever used by operational staff and very stupid people.
Ten minutes later, the engineer is back.
"There's no bloody server up there," he snaps, a little agitated at the nasty delay caused by the lift problems.
"Server?" the PFY responds, "I thought you'd come to fix the girder up on the 5th floor."
The engineer looks at him unkindly, then enquires about the processor needing the new memory.
The PFY swipes his card through the computer room reader and receives the much feared 'denied' beep. I try my card and a similar thing happens.
"Security must be having a problem again. We'd better wait for a bit until the system comes on-line. Coffee?"
"Sounds like a bloody dodgy system," the engineer says following the PFY out.
As soon as they've gone I break out the scalpel and the roll of tamper-evident packing tape.
Five minutes after that I try my real card on the reader and we all enter the computer room.
"So, two gig into this baby," the engineer says reaching for the apps server off switch.
"Hell no," I cry, panic-stricken. "We don't want that upgraded, we want that one upgraded." I point to a system so old it makes a 286 look state-of-the-art.
"You're joking."
"No. Why?"
"Two gig for that would take up half this room, if it could address it, which it can't."
"So why did your guys sell it to us?" The PFY elbows in on the act.
"We bloody didn't. I'm here to install memory in this." The engineer is getting agitated now - the little veins are sticking out on his forehead.
"But that doesn't need memory."
"Look, there's obviously been some mix-up here," the engineer says. "I'll need to talk to your systems guy."
"He's off sick." I don't think I need to tell him about the poor guy's skin inflammation, which is completely unrelated to that consignment of tanning machine lamps which was mistakenly delivered to our department a week ago, just after his terabyte of disk battle plans were overheard. The PFY just happened to be monitoring his phone line for clarity. Purely in the name of good service of course.
Suffice to say a few of his brighter staff have taken to wearing sunblock and heavy jumpers, even when the central heating accidentally came on for four hours the other day.
"OK," the engineer crumbles in the face of resistance, "I'll get my boss to contact you."
Ten minutes later he's gone, leaving with a couple of MFM hard disk controller cards sealed with tamper-evident tape in his memory upgrade box.
"I think it might be time that Kamakuza Memory Systems 1997 gave the boss a call with an offer he can't refuse, don't you?" I say to the PFY, wielding a couple of spanking new memory cards. "While I'm about it - couldn't the two central routers do with a processor upgrade?"
By the end of the week network's goodwill stock is high, with the surplus memory upgrade dosh going into 100 Meg Ethernet cards for the key players in the PR stakes. Meanwhile, in the pub, the CEO of Kamakuza Memory Systems 1997 meets with the CEO of Kamakuza Router Upgrades 1997.
"Whose round is it anyway?" the PFY asks. "It's yours isn't it?"
"Yes, I believe it is," I sigh as I go to the bar. It's not all fun and games, this CEO business. Bankruptcy looms at every bar corner, if you play your cards right that is...
--
"There's that smell again!" I cry to the PFY, happily recognising that all-too-familiar scent in the air
"What, onion bhajis?" he asks, his senses dulled by years of soft music and educational films.
"No! *THE* smell".
"Fear?"
"No!"
"Burning Equipment?"
"NO! Can't you feel it, in your bones?"
"Rheumatism" he replies sarcastically.
"No," I respond, "But there could be a fracture in the wind if you don't tune in your senses
"Well I don't feel anyt... oh yes!" he cries, suddenly enlightened.
"TRADE SHOW!" we cry simultaneously.
"Now we're going to need a convincing excuse to go as the boss is a bit against trade shows for some reason".
"Could it be because of the last time you went to one?" the PFY asks.
"Which time was that?" I ask. "I don't remember anything out of the ordinary?"
"You mean the time you spent a couple of weeks prior to the event at the tanning clinic, then turned up at the trade show calling yourself Sheik El Al Hand Kebab and claiming to want to network up every home in your Emirate State, no expense spared?"
"I can't recall such an inci..."
"When you drank two suppliers into receivership, disappeared for three days along with the boss's car, secretary, Visa card and nude holiday snaps - only one of which ever turned up again - you - claiming you'd been in a skiing accident on the M25?"
"Well now you come to mention it, the skiing accident rings a bell. Yes, I remember now, it was on work time and so technically they were responsible for my rehabilitation..."
"At the Betty Ford Clinic?"
"Only the best for the company's contractors, I'll say that for them. Anyway, there was no proof I was linked to the car, Visa, secretary or holiday snaps"
"The ones in your second to top drawer, in the envelope marked MFM Disk Formatting Instructions?"
Hmm. I appear to be slightly outflanked by the PFY's skills at determining the truth no matter how low he has to stoop. Taught him everything he knows, you know
"Well, anyway, that's all water under the bridge," I cry, attempting to change the subject.
"Along with the boss's car if rumours are to be believed," the PFY interrupts. "Still, at least you obviously didn't pull a complete Ted Kennedy, as you're still getting those postcards from Spain
Things aren't working out quite the way I planned. The PFY seems to be holding the upper hand in the conversation - something I'm not altogether used to, or comfortable with.
"ENOUGH!" I cry. "I admit, mistakes were made, not least of which was getting lagered the week after and possibly divulging more of that which transpired to you than you needed to know. "
"I'll say!" the PFY cries. "You could have left the bit about you, the boss's secretary and the train in the Underground Museum right out of the conversation, as far as I'm concerned".
Sadly, I'm all out of verbal conversation modifiers. The use of unnecessary force is mentally approved and I give him a taste of the negative ion generator, dangerously modified to put out a few more amps than is safe in an office situation. And sure enough, the PFY does seem to be a lot calmer afterwards.
"BACK ON TOPIC!" I cry. "We have a trade show to go to, and I don't want any more
interruptions!"
The PFY nods obediently.
"Now, we need some foolproof plan to enable us to go".
"I could ring my uncle".
"Yes, yes, but cashing in favours with the CEO isn't the plan. A far better plan is to give the boss absolutely NO power of veto for technical reasons".
"After last time nothing short of an earthquake is going to shift the boss's views
"OF COURSE! AN EARTHQUAKE! GENIUS!"
"You're going to cause an earthquake??!?!"
"No, no, of course not! Well, not if I don't have to anyway. No, the reason of reasons!
The excuse of excuses!"
"What would that be then?" The PFY asks, unenlightened.
"DISASTER RECOVERY! It's been YEARS since anyone tested our DR kit, and a large
percentage of it would probably catch fire if we powered it up anyway! BRILLIANT!"
The PFY calls uncle and starts the ball rolling.
"Ah!" the boss clucks as he enters the office some minutes later. "You know, I was thinking it was about time we tested our disaster recovery systems!"
"Do we have any disaster recovery systems?" I add, paving the way, "as there's an exhibition on that very topic in two weeks that the PFY and I are keen to go to".
"UNLIKELY!" the boss replies harshly. "We already have two DR rooms upstairs, ready to be fired up. I think we would do that now".
No sooner said than done. About two hours later, as the fire brigade is leaving, I'm taken aside by the CEO to answer the boss's outrageous claims of sabotage.
"Ridiculous!" I cry. "The fire was caused by dust accumulating in the equipment over a period of three years. We were lucky the whole place didn't go up. It's information like this that you find out at DR Trade Shows like the one coming up in tw..."
Two weeks later the PFY and I enter the trade show for a 3 day tour of duty. It's a harsh job, but someone's got to do it. We're greeted immediately by a charming young woman working for a popular supplier.
"Good Morning and Welcome to our Show, Mr, um
"Sheik Ali Mohammed, " I reply "And my son, Ahmed Mohammed. We're here to get some computing for our palace. Only the best will do, naturally
We trolls protect what is right on Slashdot. There isn't much, though.
- Slink around, shuffling your feet and bobbing your neck like the lazy retard
you are.
- Walk down the middle of the street because you don't know what a sidewalk is
for.
- Hang out at carwashes and mini-marts because everybody knows these are the
best places to be a dope, I mean dope.
- If you're a nigger bitch, shit three nigger babies into the world before 17
years of age. This assures that welfare money will support you, so your
nigger men have more time to commit crimes. Oh yes, make sure each nigger
baby has a different father.
- Bastardize the English language in the name of nigger culture. Make sure
that several terms have multiple meanings and others have ambiguous meanings
and that only 50% of nigger words are even complete words. Real niggers will
know what you're trying to say.
- As a culture, make sure there are always more bucks in prison than in
college at any given time.
- Hang out in packs of 10 to 15 and make sure everyone acts as annoying as
possible. This helps to promote nigger individuality.
- Always talk loud enough so everyone in the 'hood' can fucking hear you, and
if they are niggers, they will know what your saying, bro.
- Wear clothes that are 10 sizes too big, making sure the pants hang off your
ass. Also huge pants facilitate stealing (let me translate that: "it be
easier to lift dat 'box at the Kmart, homes"). If you have to hold them up
while you walk, it only looks badder.
- Park at least 5 junk cars in your yard while being careful not to use the
driveway. It's OK to abandon them in the street as long as it's in front of
someone else's crib.
- Exaggerate every motion, every tonal inflection and grab your dick a lot.
Have red carpet, blue walls, brass and overstuffed furnishings (all rented),
purple bathrooms and keep all windows covered so that no light can enter and
no cops can see in while you...
- Do drugs, sell drugs, make drugs.
- Turn your backyard into a junk yard. If you don't have a backyard, turn
your mother's into a junk yard. Eliminate every blade of grass.
- Travel around leaching off relatives, friends, salvation armies. Abandon
your children with them also.
- Smack your kids and yell at them a lot. Make them feel less than human and
that they have no future, which they don't because they're niggers like you.
- Drink cheap wine and malt liquor every day, forgetting that "malt liquor" is
just fortified cheap beer.
- If you're a nigger buck: fuck anything that moves, no matter how ugly she is.
After two eight-balls, even the ugliest, fattest nigger bitch will look good.
- Be charitable and covet fat, ugly white chicks. After all, they're niggers
too. They can't help being so undesirable to white men that they have to
fraternize with black dudes on a 20/20 trip. And white ho's are a special
trophy too, especially the not so ugly ones.
- Spray paint everything in sight with scribbles that mean nothing to White
people but mean things to fellow niggers (except niggers from another hood
who will probably try to kill you for tresspassing on their turf)
- Use the term "motherfucker" in every sentence. It's one of the most
versatile words in the nigger language, being a noun, verb, adjective and
complete mini-sentence in event you run out of thoughts.
- Stop in the middle of the street, blocking all traffic to converse with
fellow niggers and have complete disregard for everyone else.
- Delay everybody at the checkouts while you and 3 other dudes fumble around
for the $1.42 for the bottle of Magnum.
- Clog isles at Kmart with strollers, bastard kids and your fat selves. If
you're a cashier, never look at or be cordial to a customer and always talk
to other niggers while you ring up the customer.
- Overcharge customers at Taco Bell and pocket the difference.
- Drive your car while slouched so low that you can barely see over the wheel
(gangsta drivin').
- Get a job under affirmative action. Then sit around all day pretending that
you earned the position and that the other co-workers respect you. Whenever
you fuck up, scream "racism!" & hope you get enough Generation X liberals
in the jury.
- Never, I mean NEVER, take any responsibility for your actions. Always blame
others including Asians, Latinos, Mexicans, and especially Whites for your
sorry ass stupid lives.
- Advertise your "nation" (gang) with a bewildering array of colors that mean
nothing to any one but other nig's. Oh yes, if another nig violates your
"nation" i.e. garbage strewn empty lots and burned out tenements, shoot
their ass.
- Look for identity in murderous criminal gangs when you can't find it in
broken nigger homes because your mother was a 15 year old cokewhore and your
father is in jail doing 5 to 15 for pistol whipping a mini-mart cashier.
- Be all concerned with east/west connections, cellular phones, beepers, drive
by's and other trivial bullshit that Whites will never understand anything
about (what's to understand?)
- Lament ghetto gang life while at the same time...
- Listen to rap "music", which glorifies "gangsta" life, crime, drugs, murder,
early death, oppression of women. Rip off other legit music to fabricate rap
music which probably takes an engineering degree to "write" (because of the
technical know-how to operate the machines) while not requiring any music
talent at all. Then get some young criminal scum to perform it, after
changing his name to something stupid like Snoopy Dog. Spell the name of the
group with phonetics and use a number in it because nig's really like that.
At least rap is an opportunity, e.g. for young black criminals to further
their criminal careers. Rap needs only four things to be successful:
a producer, a promoter, a front-man flunky, and MTV to shove it down our
throats. Be sure to say absolutely nothing important during the 5 pages of
dialogue in a given rap joint other than "look at how much of a nigger I can
be." Then roll a joint in the joint and think about the joint while stylin'
to the joint.
- Show other lame-ass races the black race is unique by having a
culture/lifestyle that results in diseases/poverty/birth rates for blacks
consistently rising while it falls for the others.
- Fear and loathing of dogs is set in the genes for nig's. Of course bigotry
against blacks is set into the genes of dogs. So be sure to get a dog, tie
it up in the cold and mud and neglect it until it dies. Then start all over
again.
- Always have ten excuses involving hospitals for why you can't pay your
bill. When or if you finally settle up, pull out a big wad of bills out of
the welfare check to do it. Cash must be used because you long ago fucked
up your credit and checking account.
- Cram 5 generations into a two room government apartment and still be able to
neglect your kids.
- Die young. The #1 cause of death for nigger males between 15 and 30 is
murder.
Is goatse.cx a premium service?
I am no Wellington person, I am Canadian!
Will there be a giant goatse.cx in lieu of that large boulder?
Now I can spread a virus across the WAN and cause everyone's start page to be goatse.cx!
goatse.cx is the answer to everything, remember that cumquats.