Virtual vehicles for the metaverse
Available starting Saturday, November 22!
What’s the coolest thing you can think of? Han Solo? Yeah, Han’s pretty cool. Alright, admittedly, my latest product for Second Life isn’t as cool as Han, but it’s still pretty cool. It’s the Terra Xplorer personal transport.
I’m glad you asked, because I didn’t want to start rambling on about this if you weren’t interested. Here’s what Terra Xplorer is…
Continue reading “Terra Xplorer is kind of nifty and you want one”
The rumour is true. On Saturday, November 22, I’ll have something new for Second Life.
Stay tuned to my Twitter feed…
This is a little vignette from about ten years ago that I found lurking on my hard drive today. I can’t remember whether I’ve posted this one already, but it’s silly and odd, so why not?
Caffeine makes things so much clearer. Just enough so that I can feel that extra little boost. I get a kind of cold energy inside. It helps me focus. It also helps me with my special talent.
I haven’t told anyone else about my talent, and I’d rather not reveal my name just yet. Sometimes I go by the name Stanley Q. That’s my nom de plume.
Actually, I use that nom de plume a lot. I think it’s really nice to live under a nom de plume. If you’ve ever played Second Life, you’ll know the feeling. When I’m Stanley, I can be someone else and take a break from being me.
Stanley is actually quite a bit taller than I am. I think the advantage of height is a real boost to the ego. He’s confident. He’s strong. He likes latin dancing. I can’t latin dance, myself, but Stanley loves to salsa.
Stanley’s confidence is really something. Sometimes he’ll make a reservation at a restaurant, and when they ask him what name it’s under, he’ll simply say, “Stanley”. A simple, bold statement of fact. “Stanley”. He likes to make a reservation even if he’s not actually going to the restaurant. Just for the thrill of saying his name out loud.
“I’d like to make a reservation for two at six o’clock, please,” he’ll say.
And they’ll say, “Certainly, sir. Under what name?”
“Stanley”. And they write it down, believing with certainty that, at six o’clock, Stanley and his companion will be dining.
Sometimes they ask Stanley for a last name, and he says it with such certainty. “Queue,” he says.
If you have leftover chicken and pesto, then it’s your obligation and duty as a sandwich maker to build this exquisitely garlicky sandwich.
I wouldn’t say this is a “recipe” exactly. It’s not complicated. It’s not difficult. It is, however, a sandwich so delicious that it may, in fact, make you speak to god. Hence, I’ve called it my “OMG” chicken sandwich. And it’s just too effing good not to write down.
WARNING: Due to the high garlic content in this sandwich, you will not be able to socialize with other people in person for at least a week.
Warning: This post is a rant in response to this article: “Give up seats to expectant moms: Translink“.
I get it. You like to sit down on the bus. Yo know what? So does the person who has difficulty standing up — more difficulty than you. Even so, when a woman who’s obviously pregnant boards the bus, you look steadfastly at your phone to make it look like you haven’t noticed.
Now you’re sitting and texting while the woman is clearly uncomfortable with standing and having trouble hanging on during the starts and stops, and all you have to do to make their ride a hell of a lot easier is stand up. But you don’t. Why?
Because you lack emphathy. You think only of yourself and your immediate comfort. There’s no rule to make you be nice, so forget her. You sit, she stands.
And wobbles. And frowns at the pain in her feet and knees and back.
You know what this makes you? A douchebag. You’re a douchebag who needs a specific rule to force you to be decent. Unless somebody forces you to stand, you look out for yourself and only yourself. You are the very definition of a scum-sucking douchebag.
I wanted to end this rant saying, “so go to hell, douchebag”, but I won’t. Here’s why. For one thing, it would impolite. For another thing, the 24 Hours article in question was popular because it touched a nerve among transit riders. There are a lot of people on transit who are good people — well, at least good enough to know when to offer their seat. There are lots people who offer their seat to others without a second thought because they have an innate sense of decency and empathy. And, douchebag,… each an every one of them is better than you. So go to hell, douchebag.
Oh, crap, I said it anyway. Couldn’t help it.