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The airplane business

The average age in the metaverse game, Second Life, is somewhere around 30, according to a straw poll in the Second Life forums. The minimum age in the game is 18, and the oldest players to admit to it have been over 60. There are, apparently, minors who manage to slip into the game on their parents’ credit card. This is painfully obvious in some in-world “business transactions” (the “L$800” in this conversation is roughly equivalent to only $3.25 US):

Davo: Yo

Me: Hi Davo.

Davo: Hi

Me: You said hi first :) What’s up?

Davo: Is It Possible For Me To Get A Plane Now That Is L$800 And i pay you Lets see L$150 a week

Davo: i pay L$200 right away

Davo: Erm u know the LODESTAr is it possible for u to write a contract or sumtin for me where i paid L$150 a week and i pay L$200 right away

Me: I’m sorry, but I don’t sell stuff like that Davo. I’m sure that you can just save up, though. Or maybe buy a less expensive plane?

Davo: Darn

Davo: U can trust me dude

Davo: ull pay 250 right away

Davo: ill apy L$200 a week

Me: For any new player, I’d suggest not spending more than you earn. If you really want a good plane, save up for it. Have a look at Busy Ben’s in Oak Grove. There are some good, smaller vehicles that cost less.

Davo: Erm

Davo: hang on me consult sum friends…

I really don’t want to take money from this kid. The Lodestar is my biggest, most expensive plane — the luxury model. This is like a teen who walks into a Dodge dealership and asks to buy a Viper on his weekly allowance.

Sigh. Part of me wants to just give him a copy. The other part wants to send him off to There.com to play with other kids his age. Who let him in the front door, anyway?

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Bubba Ho-Tep

Go rent the movie Bubba Ho-Tep. Right now. Do it.

It’s silly and clever at the same time. Elvis, JFK, and a soul-sucking mummy, all in the same movie. How cool is that?

What are you doing still sitting there? Git!

Thankyuh, thankyuhverruhmuch.

Edit: About 10 years ago I had an idea for a screenplay in which Elvis, JFK, and Marilyn Monroe shared an apartment. Everyone told me my idea was too stupid for a full length script. They were right — I should have thought to include a soul-sucking mummy. It makes all the difference, apparently.

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The dreaded “bird book”

When my brothers and I were little, my dad was a bit of a birder, and I think he still is now, but to a lesser extent. I don’t think he was ever a rabid birder exactly, but he did own a well-used copy of “A Field Guide to Birds”.

To my brothers and I, it was The Bird Book. Any time he spotted an unusual bird, out would come The Bird Book to the sound of collective groans. We’d spend the next fifteen minutes or so flipping through the pages of feathery mug shots, trying to find a positive match. And then when he found it, he’d give a gleeful chortle and announce it’s name to anyone within hearing range. “Ho-ho! It’s a bufflehead.” The book would then be left open on that page for everyone’s reference.

It was a good experience for a kid, though only some of it stuck with me. I can still identify coots, loons, and various ducks and geese, but others escape me. For example, there’s a big black sea bird that’s not uncommon along the coast here. Eats fish. Does a lot of standing around and diving. Very impressive. I couldn’t for the life of me remember what it was called.

My cubicle neighbour is a birder, and after I described it (inaccurately), she pulled out her own Bird Book. The moment I saw a painting of it on the flyleaf, the name popped into my head: cormorant.

So the constant exposure to The Bird Book did train me to identify birds, but apparently I can only identify paintings of birds.

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Now that’s odd

This morning I woke up singing a song. I can’t remember the words now, but it was about sandwiches.

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Thoughts about Wolfgang Petersen’s “Troy”

WARNING: MAY CONTAIN MOVIE SPOILERS. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Things I noticed about Troy:

  • Achilles really likes to point his sword sideways at people and look down the blade. Someone should have mentioned to him that you don’t need to aim a sword like a gun.
  • In one scene, the Trojans appear to roll gigantic balls of yarn down onto the Greek encampment. They should have followed that by unleashing the gigantic kittens. “Cry Havoc! and let slip the kittens of war!”
  • They keep starting massively violent battles, only to stop them suddenly, saying something like, “Well there’s been enough killing for one day.”
  • Is it really necessary for the men to have shorter skirts than the women?
  • Maybe if they wore thigh armour instead of shin armour they’d have fewer leg wounds.
  • Achilles, of course, gets an arrow in his heel. A nearby audience member whispered to another, “His Achilles tendon!” No, that’s not why it’s ironic, you doofus.
  • Achilles manages to woo the lovely Perseus into his bed, despite her being the cousin of Hector. Fortunately, Achilles has a Trojan on him.

In the words of the immortal Homer: “Doh!”