Virtual vehicles for the metaverse
Topics concerning that thing known as ‘real life’ and not virtual worlds.
Treefen has come through with some stunningly funny and surreal dialogue in a TOS-esque (it’s a word now) style for the EOL blogiversary contest. Don’t drink milk while you read this or it will surely come out your nose.
Treefen_entry.pdf (~80KB, requires Acrobat Reader)
Like a great many other cubicle-dwellers, I began my day today thinking about my alarm clock. When I say that I was thinking about it, I mean that I might have actually started my day by saying fuck off and die to my alarm clock, before bashing it over the head (if it can be said to have one) with my open hand. And then I wondered why the alarm went off at all, because I never use the alarm.
I like clocks. I have an interesting relationship with them. (Patricia will very likely misread that last sentence.) Clocks, especially analog ones, are nice to look at. They’re simple. Some of them tick. Some of them tock. Others do both alternately. So I like to keep them around just for their aesthetic appeal.
But the thing is, I don’t use them for anything. I don’t wear a wristwatch. I don’t wake up to an alarm in the morning. And I don’t refer to them much. In fact, the clock in my living room has black hands on a black background, which makes it impossible to read in almost any light. That’s why I like it.
So I don’t seem to need clocks — I just never seem to be late (usually), and I never oversleep. I have a theory about this. My theory is that I’ve had these ticking clocks around me for so long, that I subconsciously count the seconds until it’s time to get up. My subconscious mind is obviously better with numbers than I am.
This leads me to wonder how I came to start my day by swearing at my clock. Maybe my subconscious needed a break from counting seconds, turned on the alarm while I was distracted by something, and took the night off.
Well I don’t like it. I decided to take action. I explained to my subconscious in a very clear sequence of Rorschach inkblots that I dislike the alarm and something else about trains going into tunnels. Obviously, my subconscious had the upper hand in that exchange.
The post-hypnotic suggestion wasn’t successful either. Apparently I bark whenever someone mentions “time”.
I don’t know what to do. Maybe I’ll give it some time WOOF and things will return to normal. I just wish I had a snooze button.
Can someone please tell me why Blogger has a new spell-checker that:
I paid for Blogger Pro in part to get the spell-checker, but this thing is useless. And Blogs are written in many places other than the US.
Give us a useful spell-checker, Blogger.
Photo of a bee. It was moving too fast.
Butterfly. Like the world needed another bloody photo of a butterfly.
As of July 17, 2003, I will have been writing this blog for one year. Picking up in the footsteps of Adrian, Treefen, and River Selkie, the time has come to throw the First Annual Endofline.ca Blogiversary Contest.
It occurred to me as I was planning this that half the visitors to my site read the blog and the other half look at the robots. That is, half of the total number of visitors. I don’t know of any half-visitors, personally.
Therefore, I have created two categories: one for a written scene and one for a LEGO robot. Take your pick of either category. Or do both. Or neither. That’s an option too.
Of the prizes, I can say undoubtedly that they are in all respects, undeniably rectangular objects.
So. Who would like to vie for the not-really-all-that-fabulous rectangular objects? Let the fun begin….
CLICK HERE FOR YE OLDE CONTEST DETAILS.
May the best writer/roboticist win!