2. What quotation best fits your outlook on life?
"Speak softly, drive a Sherman tank"; "Love rules all";

3. What single achievement are you most proud of in the past year?
Getting married to my beautiful wife!!

4. What about the past ten years?
The wedding! Or maybe graduating from college....

5. If you were asked to give a child a single piece of advice to guide them through life, what would you say?
Don't take the easy way out. The harder you work, the happier you are.

Slice you open like a tan tan, faster than the autobahn
Or a motorbike in tron, do the deed and then I'm gone
Jaba has a hissyfit, contact calrissian
Over a colt, the paln unfolds, no politic is legit

In a word, the song, and its rhymes are sick. Go check it out. (Here is the link. It is the first link on that page.)

A picture take WAY back on gin-night, and one that Andrew suggested I post here. That was the night where we attempted to decide if there was a difference between expensive gin and plastic-bottle-cheep gin through a series of "scientific" tests. Let me offer you some advice: don't attempt to start a double-blind taste-test 3 drinks into the evening. Don't try and evaluate gins by sipping them warm. And for the love of god don't believe the hype, but by all means, buy into it. Our conclusions after one-too-many sips of gin was there is a slight difference between the high-end and the bottom-shelf brands. But I still like Beefeater. Mmmm gin.

The American strategy was to ensure the right television footage by using embedded reporters and images from their own cameras, editing the film themselves.

The Pentagon had been influenced by Hollywood producers of reality TV and action movies, notably the man behind Black Hawk Down, Jerry Bruckheimer.

in the theater. The MATRIX... Fear my geekiness

Monkeys and Shakespeare: maybe they can't write it after all. Though I think they just weren't given enough time.

New study suggests that American's don't think adulthood starts until 26. Rock on, another year of partying!

Urinal safety: Cecil (of the Straight Dope) answers the question "aim for the porcelain or the water?"

This link is to a sight that gives instructions on building your own Golem. The site's design is oddly cartoon-y but all the info seems well rooted in Kabbalistic texts. So, if you have a wrong that needs writing, and you have access to some Jewish Mysticism text (or a free-wheeling Rabbi) go make a golem. At the very least check out the FAQ on the site: it has some great questions such as, "Can my golem be tried as an adult?" and, "Will God be pissed that I'm creating golems?" Good stuff.

The next summer I got a job at Marie Calendars working the register and seating people, though I was only their for about 2 weeks. I did my 2 weeks of training and then wasn't given another shift for a week. One day I came in to pick up my check and found out I was being paid a full $2 less than I was promised (which, of course, the Management denied ever offering me) and was then told I'd be working the Omelet bar during Sunday Brunch begining at 6am. "Oh, Hell no!" said I and handed in my apron. No more of that shite. Everything was smooth sailing until after I graduated. About six months after I graduated actually. Money had run out and I was pretty desperate for employment when a friend who managed the kitchen at the local ultra-hip 24 hour vegetarian cafe called. I jumped on the chance to join the crew of cool-kids employed by the Saturn Cafe, and I soon begun my shifts as a dishwasher. But not just ANY shifts mind you, the hardest of the hardcore, known as O'e (for over-easy.) O'e was the cool-kids lingo for grave-yard (11pm-7am), and was really hellish. Especially on (thirsty)Thursday and Friday nights (when i was up to my knees in filth-filled bus-tubs.) Not only was the work break-breaking and thankless, it was smelly, wet, and unrelenting. Dishes NEVER stop coming back from the dining room. Even after the bar-rush was over and there were only vampires and crazies in the restaurant there was all the kitchen and cafe dishes to do. Then after that it was hosing off the mats and moping the floor before the bathrooms had to be cleaned. I finished out my nights(mornings) by timing my final trash run to coincide with the sun-rise. There are few thing I have experienced in this world that were more sour-sweet than a cigarette as the sun rises over Santa Cruz during the last moment of a long shift, while covered in filth, drenched to the bone, physically drained, and carting a couple hundred pounds of stinking refuse to the dumpster. I might add that I was also working 2 10am-4pm weekday shifts as a disher. The cocktail of 2 grave-yard and 2 lunch shifts per week, my terrible ineptitude at the job, and the feeling that I didn't really fit in with the rest of the die-hard-work-aholic employees (a double shift was common place for these people. No one would bat an eye. TRIPLE shifts were not unheard of. A believe that the friend who got me the job once did a 26 hour stint ON THE LINE!) meant my tenure at the illustrious Saturn last only a month and a half. But still, I learned a lot about my self and my limits while manning the dish-station.

Well, I think I will continue this rant tomorrow, as my current job is demanding my full attention now...