As an atheist on the internet I stumbled across a guy on Youtube known as Tunderf00t. Turns out he's a very big Anon supporter in this war against Scientology.
Here is his fantastic view on what Anonymous truly is and how it can win
And here's his take on how to win the war.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
The MacBook Air Sucks
The thinnest notebook ever produced by Apple is a complete and utter waste of the tiny amount of space it takes up. This large calculator shouldn't even be sold in today's computing market due to its sheer lack of hardware power. Even if it were marketed as a cheap-as-hell computer it wouldn't make the cut as nothing else on the market is as weak an excuse of a computer as this piece of paper. Alas, the computer is NOT being sold as a cheap-as-hell laptop, but as a $3500 slab not heavy enough to be a door stop when you have no more use for it (which will be a few weeks after you open the box).
Lets look at the specs:
If you bump up the processor to a 1.8Ghz Duo core (less than anyone should get for even basic computing now-a-days) and get the new-age Solid-State drive the price is right around three grand. For $3k I'd prefer to get an Alienware with 4 fucking graphics cards and a badass 1080p (1920x1200 resolution) screen...
But! The cheapest version (1.6Ghz and an 80Gb disk drive) is only $1800. For 1800 dollars I'd much prefer to get, well, almost ANY OTHER COMPUTER at that price. If you were to spend 1800 bucks on this Frisbee then you'd be paying for tech that is several years old, a 1200x800 resolution screen (aka terrible screen with lots of jaggies) and not enough ports to really do anything with.
I'll probably update this later because it is 5am and I haven't slept yet and need some sleep.
Goodnight
Lets look at the specs:
If you bump up the processor to a 1.8Ghz Duo core (less than anyone should get for even basic computing now-a-days) and get the new-age Solid-State drive the price is right around three grand. For $3k I'd prefer to get an Alienware with 4 fucking graphics cards and a badass 1080p (1920x1200 resolution) screen...
But! The cheapest version (1.6Ghz and an 80Gb disk drive) is only $1800. For 1800 dollars I'd much prefer to get, well, almost ANY OTHER COMPUTER at that price. If you were to spend 1800 bucks on this Frisbee then you'd be paying for tech that is several years old, a 1200x800 resolution screen (aka terrible screen with lots of jaggies) and not enough ports to really do anything with.
I'll probably update this later because it is 5am and I haven't slept yet and need some sleep.
Goodnight
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Fuck You OnStar
http://news.google.com/news/url?sa=t&ct=us/8-0&fp=470d1860ee57ded8&ei=BmYNR5ikGqWuoAKbyJD-AQ&url=http%3A//blogs.pcworld.com/digitalworld/archives/2007/10/onstar_plays_go.html&cid=1121897419
This is the kind of thing that makes me upset with where our minds lead us. (;_;)
The article talks about how the company, OnStar, is teaming up with Chevy to install a new security device that will slow down cars that are being stolen. This is supposed to help police catch the stolen car as it's driving away so that the thief doesn't get to do any "Dukes of Hazard" type car maneuvers.
It's only a matter of time before you're hauling ass down the freeway, with your wife in labor sitting in the back seat as your car pulls over to the side of the road so that a police officer can write you a ticket when he gets around to it.
This is one of many reasons why I will always drive a car with a carburetor.
(And why I'll continue to write run-on sentences until I am satisfied.)
This is the kind of thing that makes me upset with where our minds lead us. (;_;)
The article talks about how the company, OnStar, is teaming up with Chevy to install a new security device that will slow down cars that are being stolen. This is supposed to help police catch the stolen car as it's driving away so that the thief doesn't get to do any "Dukes of Hazard" type car maneuvers.
It's only a matter of time before you're hauling ass down the freeway, with your wife in labor sitting in the back seat as your car pulls over to the side of the road so that a police officer can write you a ticket when he gets around to it.
This is one of many reasons why I will always drive a car with a carburetor.
(And why I'll continue to write run-on sentences until I am satisfied.)
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Here we go again.
What is the nature of sin?
It's an outdated concept, certainly, but one rooted in a concept that indeed
endures.
The definition of sin- not by any modern definition, but rather one set by the philosophers- is the disordering of one's priorities. This can happen easily because, as sentient beings, we have some idea what makes us tick. Hence, we can easily have sex without consequence. Drug ourselves into oblivion. Eat until we rupture our stomachs.
I'm not ranting about iniquity. I'm saying that we need to define our own goals and then stick to them. This is where 'brain crack' (Thanks to Ze Frank) comes in. We allow the concepts of our ideals to outweigh our dedication to our ideals themselves.
Why do so few people today 'succeed' in their own eyes? Well, there's two problems. The first is the goals they set themselves. The second is the dedication they give those goals. Someone whose definition of success is to earn one million dollars, but refuses to leave their bed, ever, is not going to be a successful person by their own definition.
Recognize your abilities, recognize your desires, and succeed. It could be as simple as redefining success to your current state of life. No one else can define success for you. So, do what you want.
Don't succumb to brain crack. You'll set yourself an impossible goal, not lift a finger to achieve it, and end up only with regret.
If you're new to the whole 'trying to succeed' thing, or are trying to quit brain crack cold turkey, then set yourself small goals and achieve them. To do otherwise is sinful- and indeed, is the only thing that is sinful. I'm not saying you're going to go to hell. I'm saying you will regret your own decisions and actions.
Look at your priorities. See what's really important to you. If sex, drugs, and rock n' roll is what you've been doing with your life, maybe you should just call that the top priority. There's nothing wrong with that. Just don't fool yourself.
It's an outdated concept, certainly, but one rooted in a concept that indeed
endures.
The definition of sin- not by any modern definition, but rather one set by the philosophers- is the disordering of one's priorities. This can happen easily because, as sentient beings, we have some idea what makes us tick. Hence, we can easily have sex without consequence. Drug ourselves into oblivion. Eat until we rupture our stomachs.
I'm not ranting about iniquity. I'm saying that we need to define our own goals and then stick to them. This is where 'brain crack' (Thanks to Ze Frank) comes in. We allow the concepts of our ideals to outweigh our dedication to our ideals themselves.
Why do so few people today 'succeed' in their own eyes? Well, there's two problems. The first is the goals they set themselves. The second is the dedication they give those goals. Someone whose definition of success is to earn one million dollars, but refuses to leave their bed, ever, is not going to be a successful person by their own definition.
Recognize your abilities, recognize your desires, and succeed. It could be as simple as redefining success to your current state of life. No one else can define success for you. So, do what you want.
Don't succumb to brain crack. You'll set yourself an impossible goal, not lift a finger to achieve it, and end up only with regret.
If you're new to the whole 'trying to succeed' thing, or are trying to quit brain crack cold turkey, then set yourself small goals and achieve them. To do otherwise is sinful- and indeed, is the only thing that is sinful. I'm not saying you're going to go to hell. I'm saying you will regret your own decisions and actions.
Look at your priorities. See what's really important to you. If sex, drugs, and rock n' roll is what you've been doing with your life, maybe you should just call that the top priority. There's nothing wrong with that. Just don't fool yourself.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
You outrageous bastards.
Ain't anonymity great? Yeah, this thing is not really anonymous enough for me.
'Cause y'all know who I am, but YOU're not reading this. Or commenting.
Bleh. Enough bitching. Content time!
We need to discover a way to interact directly with the network that is humanity.
Not with the people of which it is composed, but with the network itself and its emergent intelligence.
Now, polls and the like are terrible ways of doing this, because they're averages, and we're trying to study fine structures here. Taking an average is like pureeing a brain to see what thoughts are in it.
Now, the new neural interfaces being created these days usually have electrodes directly inserted into the brain, stimulating as few brain cells as possible while still solidly affecting a region of the brain. When I say "as few as possible," though, we're still talking tens of thousands.
What am I jabbering on about? Well, the way I see it, we need to extend a few electrodes to humanity. Have them be different sensory experiences, none of them linked back to us that any one person will know about. Cross-correlate the data and start trying to get repeatable responses. Once we've done this, we've established an uplink to the metaintelligence and we can begin communicating with the most fascinating creature ever studied.
We need a small number of variables, tightly controlled.
Please help me design this.
Please don't slip back into the haze.
I know how it happens. UST sucks and you just want to chill with the few people who don't suck.
But please. PLEASE. Hold onto the drive. Hold on to the energy. Keep tabs on each other. Keep each other psyched. Don't go into survival mode. Don't go into survival mode.
Don't give in to brain crack.
Express yourself.
Don't let them crush the single part of you that matters most...
Your voice.
'Cause y'all know who I am, but YOU're not reading this. Or commenting.
Bleh. Enough bitching. Content time!
We need to discover a way to interact directly with the network that is humanity.
Not with the people of which it is composed, but with the network itself and its emergent intelligence.
Now, polls and the like are terrible ways of doing this, because they're averages, and we're trying to study fine structures here. Taking an average is like pureeing a brain to see what thoughts are in it.
Now, the new neural interfaces being created these days usually have electrodes directly inserted into the brain, stimulating as few brain cells as possible while still solidly affecting a region of the brain. When I say "as few as possible," though, we're still talking tens of thousands.
What am I jabbering on about? Well, the way I see it, we need to extend a few electrodes to humanity. Have them be different sensory experiences, none of them linked back to us that any one person will know about. Cross-correlate the data and start trying to get repeatable responses. Once we've done this, we've established an uplink to the metaintelligence and we can begin communicating with the most fascinating creature ever studied.
We need a small number of variables, tightly controlled.
Please help me design this.
Please don't slip back into the haze.
I know how it happens. UST sucks and you just want to chill with the few people who don't suck.
But please. PLEASE. Hold onto the drive. Hold on to the energy. Keep tabs on each other. Keep each other psyched. Don't go into survival mode. Don't go into survival mode.
Don't give in to brain crack.
Express yourself.
Don't let them crush the single part of you that matters most...
Your voice.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Ahem.
Where the hell are you guys? Ding ding, this is Rob keeping tabs on you. Consider yourselves tabbed motherfuckers.
If you don't take this shit seriously I'ma start telling stories...
stories like... THIS ONE!
Once upon a time there lived a man who knew how to break the second law of thermodynamics. Unfortunately for him, this would put the oil companies out of business. No one would be poor anymore, but no one would be rich either, and the richest people in the world wouldn't allow this. Hence, they locked the man up, put him in a spaceship powered only by water, and sent him to the Exxon moon base for the Criminally Innovative. In a hollowed-out space near the moon's core, the man lived out the rest of his days, going bitterly mad in the eight-by-eight-by-eight cell to which he was confined. Eventually, he invented a way to time travel using only leftover breadcrusts and shoelaces. Having done so, he traveled back two thousand years and started wowing gullible natives with parlor tricks until he slept with Pontius Pilate's daughter and was subsequently crucified.
The last laugh belongs to the pandas, who never really die but instead are sublimated into the intelligence that is harbored in a hidden orbit above the sun exactly one hundred eighty degrees away from the Earth. The rest of us have no eternal life to look forward to, but rather are all already dead.
THE END.
Now get off your asses or I'll give you a mind virus.
If you don't take this shit seriously I'ma start telling stories...
stories like... THIS ONE!
Once upon a time there lived a man who knew how to break the second law of thermodynamics. Unfortunately for him, this would put the oil companies out of business. No one would be poor anymore, but no one would be rich either, and the richest people in the world wouldn't allow this. Hence, they locked the man up, put him in a spaceship powered only by water, and sent him to the Exxon moon base for the Criminally Innovative. In a hollowed-out space near the moon's core, the man lived out the rest of his days, going bitterly mad in the eight-by-eight-by-eight cell to which he was confined. Eventually, he invented a way to time travel using only leftover breadcrusts and shoelaces. Having done so, he traveled back two thousand years and started wowing gullible natives with parlor tricks until he slept with Pontius Pilate's daughter and was subsequently crucified.
The last laugh belongs to the pandas, who never really die but instead are sublimated into the intelligence that is harbored in a hidden orbit above the sun exactly one hundred eighty degrees away from the Earth. The rest of us have no eternal life to look forward to, but rather are all already dead.
THE END.
Now get off your asses or I'll give you a mind virus.
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