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The Technical Manual

Posted 26 April 2002, 9.11 am by The_Roach

One of the topics covered with some regularity on both the front page and within our Grinding Shed is the best way in which one's life may be lived. While grossly overdone and entirely unoriginal, here is my treatment of this subject.


I've been told that I have a fairly strong grasp of the machinations behind living a good life. While I appreciate the compliment, I think it to be quite the exaggeration. Granted, I have had some experiences in my life that have allowed me insight into the workings of people, and I've always made it a point to observe and learn from the mistakes of others. So, when a friend said that he would really like for there to be a guidebook given out at birth that provided pointers for making the most out of one's existence, I got to thinking.

If I were to write such a manual, what would it say? How would I approach the subject of temptation and control? What suggestions could I give for meeting a good partner? How could I explain the means by which to find the one thing you love doing more than anything else, and then doing said thing for the rest of one's days?

After careful consideration, I have come to the conclusion that I am not only capable of writing the definitive "How-To" for living, but that I can also accomplish this task in less than one page:

There is nothing that I or anyone else can tell you that will guarantee that you achieve the maximum potential that your life holds. Only you are capable of determining your own limits. You will only travel so far as you truly wish to go. If you really want to know how to make your life the best that it possibly can be, my recommendation is to get up, get out, and fail repeatedly. Do what you want with your time here, but take the time to think about why you want to do the things you desire to accomplish. When you are wrong, admit that to yourself and move on. When you are finished, accept that you are finished and know that you did what you could.

Live.

Conflicts...

Posted 26 April 2002, 1.42 am by Jake

Words fail me.

As of lately, it seems that I wasn't meant to be happy. Casual meaningless sex and drugs fill the void, but only for a short while.
Every conscious decision I make/have made comes back and slaps me in the face.

I can't fucking get it, for the life of me.

Life's kinda kicking me in the face and pissing in my ear lately, but what's new? That's how it's almost always been. But, I will stare down my obstacles, I'll tear down all of the walls that are in my way. I'll crawl through the red-hot plains of Hell, and I'll grit my teeth and slog through the shit that is accumulating around me.
Whatever fucking happens, I'm not gonna lay down. I'm not going to give in to any doubt. Maybe I'll have fits of anger and self-loathing, but hey. Tough shit.
It can only get better.

Right?

Make your own Virtual model!

Posted 25 April 2002, 3.03 pm by Craig


Visit Site.

stickdeath.com

Posted 24 April 2002, 11.06 pm by Shaggy


Stickdeath.com

Nuff said.

Robert A. Heinlein's Starship Troopers

Posted 24 April 2002, 6.38 pm by Shaggy

Well, this is my first review, and I thought it very appropriate that I review one of my favourite novels. At once a stirring action novel, and at the same time a moving plea for world peace and unity, I enjoyed this book profusely. Not to be confused with the movie of the same name (which turned into the worst peice of gen X trash this side of SciFi), the novel is a very tasteful, very thorough piece.

Recommended to all who liked the movie, should the need for intelligence come in to play. If you hated the movie, you aren't alone, but that does not necessarily mean that you might hate the novel, for they are about as comparable as vodka and my ass.

That is to say, you cannot compare the movie with the novel.

You think you cannot communicate?

Posted 24 April 2002, 6.18 pm by Shaggy


I was thinking of how character interpretation is driven. I was wondering why I (and all other humans... come on, don't lie!) judge people upon seeing them, and how I can easily classify people and immediately have a huge picture of their character, simply by what clothes they wear. "Oh, he's a jock. He must be stupid."

Admittedly, most of my characterizations are vague and tend to not be as restricting as the above quote. Yet, I often wonder how many wonderfully interesting people I have missed talking to, merely because they dressed a way that proved irksome to me, or in a fashion that I found was not very representative of the characteristics that I enjoy in people.

However, I find comfort in the fact that I surely must indeed come off as a socially inept and disturbed individual. Let me explain myself:

When I first met my present girlfriend, I ended the night with: "I had fun. We should hook up together sometime. THAT IS, ahem, we should you know, get together... uhm... you know... that is to say..."

That was the first night that I smacked my forehead and called myself an idiot. The second time was when her father and his fiancee were driving me home. I had an interesting night (her father is a rather interesting bloke that never ceases to surprise, for better or worse), but I didn't want to seem too eager to return. After all, from what I have learned from television about dating, a man must not seem too eager. For some reason, actually wanting the woman is creepy. So I told him that I would see him later. I immediately thought that the comment might have been perhaps a bit too committal, so I immediately returned, "that is to say, I MIGHT see you later."

My life is filled with these moments. Moments when I feel so intolerably socially-inept that I wonder how I manage to function in a social environment at all. Sometimes I just don't function in a social environment, either making someone angry at me, or what other negative event I can manage to stir.

And yet, people still tell me how smart I am. That is to say, they still think that I actually have an inkling of intelligence. This sometimes puts a lot of pressure on me. I look back at those I love and feel like I owe them something somehow. And dagnabit, I like feeling smart. A little self-deception is helpful, or at least in moderation.

So I guess my point is that, as long as people will falsely judge me as smart, I will try to beat insurmountable odds to actually live up to that expectation.

However, the one thing that only a select few have actually commented on is my compassion. And yet, I still find myself somehow motivated to be as compassionate and helpful as I can be. The motivation is innate, and unspoken.

I don't want much. All I want is world peace and to be as smart as people think I am.

Oh and I want to be rich and famous in the meanwhile.

My Entire Ass

Posted 24 April 2002, 3.22 pm by Berly

Wanker and Zarous. These two make me laugh. I hope they make you laugh too.

Don't expect the world. This site is inconsistent with the updates at best. Generally, there will be a couple of months of non-activity, followed by daily activity. Right now we are seeing some daily activity - with a chance of continued daily activity.

At one time, they had a poll. I wrote in to say it should be called "Poll My Finger". Can you believe they vetoed that? I'm not bitter. It's not like almost a year ago is a long time, or anything...

Go ahead, look at My Entire Ass.

“Obfuscation!” -- “Bless you.”

Posted 24 April 2002, 3.50 am by Berly

The Roach: “I’m going to buy a scanner today.”

Berly: “Oh, really? Fry’s or Best Buy?”

The Roach: “Neither.”

Berly: “Where then?”

The Roach: “Electronics Boutique.”

Berly: “I didn’t know they sold scanners?!”

The Roach: “They don’t.”

*berly sighs*

I’ve been at my new job for exactly five days. Already, I know more about my co-worker than I do about my own family. I know she’s got issues with the IRS, she is divorced and she drives a car that somehow causes her to be pulled over by the police on a regular basis. I know that her mother is living in an assisted living home. I know that the mail man has not delivered mail to her mother’s old residence for three weeks now, which is horrible because that means the insurance didn’t get paid, and has been cancelled, and the guy they hired to repair the screen door (with a detour to: even though no one currently lives there, someone will someday) broke his wrist when he fell on the stairs and now he will sue for sure...[insert symbol for infinity here].

I asked her where I could find the pencil sharpener.

*berly sighs*

Communication with other humans. I am decidedly bad at it. I ask questions that give me precisely the information I asked for, when I expected more. I ask questions that provide me with superfluous information, when I expected less. I have not learned how to effectively manage the communication beast.

Why is it that telling someone they talk too much rates on the un-fun scale just below “you have horrible breath and you need to try that new deodorant invention?”

And how is it that I can, and sometimes do, get exactly the amount of information I was seeking?

And why do I feel somehow offended when I’m not automatically provided with all of the information I would have given in response to a question...but only with certain people?

I am perplexed.

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A year or so ago I undertook a study entitled 'Faces of Death'. I produced a quite substantial body of work concerning corpses, and faces in particular. I concentrated mainly on victims of murder. This image was produced by rolling a thick layer of ink onto a steel plate and rubbing, scratching and soaking it off with turps. The plate was then pressed onto paper, and this is the result.


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Hmph

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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