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IQ Test!

Posted 4 July 2002, 10.59 pm by Alexander

As submitted by Janetdoggy, no not a test to see if you have an IQ (although that might be a good place to start). Take the test, answer all the questions and post your (honest!) results. Were you pleasantly surprised or disappointed by your score? What weight to you give to such Q & A style tests of intelligence?

Take the test


Posted 4 July 2002, 3.18 am by The_Roach

Today is the day that we Americans celebrate our independence from Great Britain. This is, in my opinion, unfortunate. Before anybody gets their panties shoved so far up their crack that they begin to spout forth terms like "ponce" or begins making reference to bad teeth, allow me to clarify.

I find it unfortunate because there is so much more to independence than merely being free of a government that was oppressive to a select minority of individuals over two hundred years ago.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.--That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, --That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.

I read a story the other day about a lecturer who was giving a speech concerning the underlying themes of a book by Isaac Asimov. Unbeknownst to the speaker, Asimov was in the audience for the oration. Afterwards, during a Q&A session, Asimov rose and said some reasonable facsimile of "That's not what it means at all." The speaker challenged Asimov's credibility where the writing was concerned (unaware of who he was speaking to), and Asimov revealed himself as the author.

Now, while most of us would probably take a moment right then to shut the hell up (likely sitting down and hoping that we haven't stained our shorts too badly), the lecturer remained cool. He explained to Asimov that, while it may not have been his initial intent, once a work becomes published and begins to disseminate through society the author can truly make no claims any longer as the process of interpretation becomes the property of the public. Asimov agreed with him. So do I, and I don't think that the predjudices of our founding fathers should hold any relevance to the operation of this country today.

All men are created equal. The only law is that one should be able to live their life in the manner of their choosing, so long as it doesn't infringe upon the freedoms of another. Or, at least, it would be in an ideal world.


In`de*pend"ence, n. [Cf. F. ind['e]pendance.] 1. The state or quality of being independent; freedom from dependence; exemption from reliance on, or control by, others; self-subsistence or maintenance; direction of one's own affairs without interference.

Many people in my country feel that the government here has lost sight of what true independence is. It's no longer a nation governed "by the people, for the people". The attacks last year in New York and Washington was spun by the government as a demonstration that others were jealous and hateful of our freedoms in this country, all the while taking the opportunity to snatch away rights that the citizens of this nation would never know they lost. Maybe that's true. There are certainly a number of new restrictions on our freedoms, the least of which being an extended wait at the security checkpoint in the airport.

What has to be remembered, however, is that we allow these things to happen. It is through our silence, our ignorance, our fear, that we enable those who lack these traits to exert control over us. It's not enough to simply complain about it. Find like-minded individuals. Speak your mind to people who may not be so easily convinced. VOTE, for Christ's sake (if I hear one more American citizen bitch and moan about how horrible this country is without making that minor effort towards changing it, I'm lobbying to have it punishable by death).

I suppose that the whole point of this diatribe, is that if you want to exact change in your society or even just within the bounds of your life, the only person really stopping you is yourself. It's freedom.

It's the revolution, baby.

Guest Submission - Author: AnemusRogo

Posted 2 July 2002, 3.58 pm by Berly

I don't know how to make the little font like Roach does with his guest posts. I'm lame-that's ok though. My guest is pretty talented, so I'm hoping you will forgive the lack of web skill on my part.

Stone Bird




Looking like a dead bird by the highway.
A beautiful thing, maybe in her mid twenties.
Detective Harwell cupped his hands and lit a cigarette, then looked away.

Her broken limbs were arranged like an archeoptryx, trapped in mud from the fall--well muscled flesh still clean and warm.
He took a lond draw, then puffed out smoke that rose with his gaze toward the horizon.

"Tough break."

The irony was not lost on him.
He turned to see his partner standing with her chin in her hand, elbow to
her knee, propped up on a tree stump. Behind her the police cruiser flashed silently.


You learned not to care after a while. The pain of other people's
misfortunes became just another color on the vast canvas of life.

"You think she jumped?" he said, cutting right through all the crap and the pretention in his partner's voice.

"Nah. I think she was pushed."

He nodded and flicked his cigarette.
The sun burned high overhead, a tangerine globe of unforgiving heat, that poured his own sweat on him like a downpour.

"Let's go get something to eat" he said.

"Right. After I finish the damn paperwork."

* * *

Lou's Diner was hot and stuffy, but it was better than the bottom of an
overpass. He ordered the corned beef and hash, and she ordered the grilled cheese on rye with a side salad. Like she always did.

"So" he said between bites, "Do you think it was drug related?"

She shook her head vigorously, then brushed her hair back with the hand holding the sandwich.

"No. I think it was premeditated. Did you look at the way her limbs were
arranged? Shit, Stepen, it's like she was someone's fucking sculpture!"

He nodded. "I thought the same thing. Like a dead bird."

"Like a dead bird" she echoed, then threw down her sandwich, eyes rapidly widening. "Come on." she shouted, bolting up from the diner booth.

"You may not eat, but I'm frigging starving."

"Take it with you, Harwell."

Harwell waived down the cook to get three boxes for the food, one for the corned beef, one for the salad, and one for the half a grilled cheese

The other, rapidly diminishing half was in his partner's hand, joined now
by a clear plastic box of salad.

"Come on, we've got work to do."

"Cool it. We've got all day. All week. I doubt she's going anywhere other
than the Coroner's."

His partner was already half way to the door. Harwell sighed, threw a twenty down on the counter, and waived at Ernie, the chef, who nodded appreciatively. He knew how Harwell's partner could be. Or maybe he was happy for the change.


Made Up Word Fun

Posted 2 July 2002, 5.42 am by Berly

As pimped to me by Wanker:

Wanker: have you seen this site?
Wanker: minutes of fun!
Wanker: I got 2 words published today ...ride hump - To ride in the middle of the back seat of a car, where the hump is.

ex. Everyone piled into the car and I had to ride hump.

choke yourself - To display your distaste for another's disposition; usually used when you're glad you're not in her shoes.

ex. A. My boss said I have to work this weekend. B. Just choke yourself.

Pseudo Dictionary

Battery hens

Posted 1 July 2002, 10.57 am by Villager

Yesterday, I was walking through a busy shopping centre, West Quay they call it, hoping to find myself a new desk fan and a pair of trainers, which I tend to wear out quite quickly through running, football and, most corrosively of all, hard court tennis. It was a warm day, the kind where you really want to get everything over with as quickly as possible, so you can leave the chores of shopping behind and get home, and yet aggravate this by walking faster and getting warmer. So here I was, my feet aching and wanting little more than to be back at home sat in front of the tennis with a mug of coffee and a pizza, with a fan blowing cool and refreshing waves towards your grateful face.

There were so many people, it was like I was packed in with a tin of sardines, complete with intolerable body odours, vague utterances and the ceaseless hum of multitudes. From the moment I entered I felt horribly out of place. I tend to do my shopping during quiet periods, so that I don’t have to queue and have few obstructions in the smaller stores. I hadn't considered that yesterday though, and found myself swamped by hundreds of people going in hundreds of directions for hundreds of reasons. And there was me after a fan and pair of trainers. I got the fan. I took one look in the only Sport shop that doesn’t royally rip you off when you buy stuff and decided that I wasn't prepared to fight my way through the queues and see if I could get the solitary shoe assistant’s attention so that I could try on my trainers. I left for the bus stop and watched this world go by until my transport arrived.

I didn't want to feel comfortable with all those people, competing for space like battery hens. I wanted a deserted shopping centre with but the odd cheerful person to come pass, and respectfully not bump against my shoulder as if I wasn't there, and walk on without apologising. I wanted the full and undivided attention of the shop assistant, not to be 12th in the queue and dealt with by somebody at the end of their wits. I want to be able to browse the trainer section and not have to battle my way through the foul mouthed children sat on the floor. I don‘t want to be repulsed by the humid, relentless stink of the unwashed masses in a confined space. Anti-social? Anti-people? Selfish? Snobbish? I’m sure most of them are very nice people. I’m sure that had I met them individually I would possibly have none of this disdain, and perhaps even like a few. But I don’t want to shop amongst hundreds of them.

Sea Monkey Worship

Posted 30 June 2002, 1.12 pm by Craig

Visit Site.

When the darkness comes

Posted 30 June 2002, 5.50 am by Sickan

First there was noise. All consuming and raucous noise, like a waterfall on speed.
Then there was the silence. A silence as heavy yet light as a winter morning where the snow is falling quietly.

Darkness fills the edge of my eyes, I blink but nothing helps. The darkness suddenly disappears – disappears into a place not known to any man.
Then the noise begins once more – fills up every fiber in my weak body and I notice that it feels like I can hear every conversation and thought in the building. Someone screams, someone cries, someone laughs.
The soft feeling of carpet under my fingertips wake me up from the endless stream of voices and thought – why am I on my knees? I look at my fingers, hand, wrist and wonder if they are mine, they don’t feel like they are mine. What feels like hours pass while I wonder if the fingers, hand, wrist are mine. Then the silence returns and I know they are. I realize that I am on the floor and try to get up. The movement of my head makes it all come back. Now the waterfall is replaced my a constant sound, a siren. The sound from an ambulance.

I blink again but as before it wont go away, wont leave me alone. I want to cry but the pain wont let me. I gather up all the courage and will left in me and get up – can barely get up on the bed. I try to move – just a little movement, perhaps to make sure that I am still alive, but the sole thought of moving makes the pain even worse, though is seems

I try to move my eyes but the darkness just returns. I close the my eyelids and feel the shadow of pain take me in its control. I wont let it and I open them again – look straight ahead and see the glass of pills on the floor. Remember I took some. Lay down and feel the pain like it was a part of me. Darkness.

Open my lids and look at the stars above me through the window. Hours has passed. The migraine is gone. I am free once more.

Lunch With Mom

Posted 29 June 2002, 10.04 pm by Berly

Mom says: "Your brother is in trouble again."

I don't even have to distinguish who she means with a name, as I have two brothers and only one of them is ever in any kind of "trouble." Up until today, it has been drunk driving, alcoholism, jail for minor offenses, joblessness and difficulty finding a place to live - without being kicked out within 6 months.

You see, we are a stereotypical Irish family. My aunt, grandfather, father, and at least one brother have had our alcoholic genes take control of their lives. Two of the four are now dead. One of the four has managed to recognize and placate the demon. The last of the four, my brother, appears to be racing to his chemical induced grave. He will get there long before he should, and I have no doubt that he is not going to go peacefully.

Mom says: "There's more."

I ask if it's money. I've always suspected he would be needing money eventually, as he's worn out just about every person he's ever met - and never kept a job for more than a year. She says "Well, a degree. But your father helped him out with that....there's more...." My breathing halts.

This is going to sound terrible. You see, money has never meant a whole lot to me personally - or my family. We lend without expecting it back, and we never hold it over anyone's head. The down side to this is that we tend to purchase band aids for our problems, as well as those we love. Instead of looking at why the "money problem" is there in the first place - we just throw some money at it and move on. I know we don't believe we can purchase happiness, but I think we believe that we can make reality a little easier to deal with. Therefore, when mom says "There's more" and it can't be fixed by money, I am in new and scary territory.

Mom says: "He has been dealing drugs and he's gotten a woman pregnant."

Now I'm a little frightened. I've seen far too many movies and read too many books dramatizing drug dealing life. I'm scared that he's going to be killed, or that the rest of my family may somehow be drawn into his mess. I'm afraid I'm going to have a nice or nephew that I'll never get to meet or know about. Once the "girlfriend" found out much of what was going on, apparently she did the smart thing and removed herself from his life.

I'm torn between hating him and being afraid for him. We have never been particularly close. He is four years older than me, and he has always been "different." He was unhappy as a child, and more so as an adult. My parents, as pointed out above, were not always the best at examining the situation. They didn't intend to harm anyone, but I can't help but wonder if the avenues of his life of were alterable - had they been tended to. I wonder if there was anything that could have been done by any of us, to save him. I wonder if we will be able to save him - even now.

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They were done for an exhibition a couple of years ago . They asked for something to so with the summer. They are mixed media and oil paint on metal advertising boards - for ice cream.

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80s candy bars were pretty good

only because i traded it for a candy bar in the 80's.

lol we all know you don't have a soul ghoti

my soul for some carbs...

But of course!

Yo ! Does this work ?


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