Thursday, August 11, 2005

Apple: It doesn't have solitire

Found an awesome ad from a Wizard magazine during the bombardment of Apple Switch ads across all forms of media.

it's nifty, here it is:

I have a kind of strange facination with these Apple ads. I don't really know why, they used to bother me to no end. Stupid people talking down to stupid pepole proliferating the great unwashed computer idiocy that we face today. "GET RID OF SPAM" they say, "I HATE POP-UPS", but what they refer to as popups sometimes might actually be REAL messages the computer is trying to convey, but it gets in the way of their dirty Internet Exploder browsing of the intertron.

I don't mean to go off on a tangent, but suffice to say, they weren't speaking to me, yet it offended me greatly. Now they are almost a novelty to me, and I find them heee-larious. This one has been on my mind since Monday, I tried to find it online, but had to settle for scanning it at work. I didn't bother cleaning it up because i'm lazy. Apoligies to the imaginary people who read this blog.


Wednesday, August 10, 2005

And now for a trip in the wayback machine

I found this post about Amerika in my old /. journal. I used to use that before I found out about an entirely new way to publish my thoughts that would still remain unread by everyone. But still, I wanted to put this bit o' business on here since I kind of got off track while talking about Amerika the last time. So without further ado, here it is:

from /. Wednesday, July 13 2-double-aught-5

Two lines from Kafka's Amerika really stood out to me when i read them recently. As Karl is walking away from New York along the road, the line "The occasional automobile shot out of the fog, and all three turned their heads towards these cars, which were usually enormous and so striking in appearance and so fleetingly present there was no time to notice whether they had any occupants or not."

It is amazing how precise Kafka pinpoints a feeling of awe and wonderment at the sight of an American automobile whizzing by a pedestrian on the road. It calls to mind the oversized "space age" cars we Americans were so fond of during the fifties and sixties; yet this book was written years before, and by a man who never even visited the US. Kafka writes in such a way as to make the normal seem surreal, not in the same vein as Gabriel Garcia Marquez with his fantastic realism, but in an uncanny manner, the simple act of a car passing on the road becomes an event, a large imposing symbol of American ingenuity personified.

The second line comes after Karl realizes that it will be harder to leave the US if he is in the interior of the country rather than New York. His traveling companions convince him to continue away from the city and it reads "Even then he wouldn't have gone if he hadn't told himself that it was probably better for him to go to a place from which it would be less easy to return home. It would be better for his work and his general progress, if he had no useless thoughts to distract him."

That line is particularly telling about the character and his work ethic. Being distracted by alternative prospects is undesirable to him. His desire, it seems is to be locked into a situation so as to attack it head on, certainly an interesting way to approach life.


Tuesday, August 09, 2005

Killing Time, Killing Time

I've never been a proponent of flash games as a Great Impediment To Productivity(tm), but this puzzle Grow had me baffled for a good while. Nifty for a puzzle game, makes me wanna play Myst or something. Maybe i'll jack it from the Chan's server.

School cannot start sooner. This vacation is killing me. I know I'll be resenting these words when school starts and the big programming crunch hits, but still...I need an excuse to stop going out and spending money and staying out late. School has never been a reasonable excuse for me, but I'm going to try my damnedest to make it a viable excuse. I swear, if Buddah's brother Gianni finishes school before me (he starts in the fall) I just might have to shoot myself in the face.

Back to work, ya bastard (the bastard in question being me).