Jump to content

Ashoka the Great

Banned
 View Profile  See their activity

  • Posts

    2,480

  • Joined

  • Last visited

 Content Type 

Blog Entries posted by Ashoka the Great

  1. Ashoka the Great
    When I posted my musings on having torn my rotator cuff, I didn't expect someone to wander in and call me a liar over something completely unrelated.
    Behold Jaiar, proud member of the New Pacific Order:
    Wait, what? I post a story about my idiotic stunt that injured my shoulder and my previous experiences with Canada's appalling healthcare system and someone I've never heard of wanders in, calls me a liar about something that I posted in the picture thread some time ago and expects me not to respond?
    tsk tsk tsk
    He don't know me very well, do he?
    I did attempt to give the photo some context:
    In return I received this:
    I don't object to someone attacking me over something I've done. I could probably provide a shopping list of previous activities that would earn my condemnation from all corners of CN. I don't really care, though.
    What I do care about is my integrity. At the end of the day, a person is only as good as their word. And, well, I'm not especially fond of being called a liar.
    So....I'm calling you out chimp chump champ.
    I'm not entirely sure what it will take to convince you that I was there and, yes, that a photo was taken.
    Oh wait, yes I do.
    I am prepared to give you the contact information for several individuals who can confirm my attendance at this event. If their memories are functional they may remember that I was the person who introduced Lady Thatcher at the luncheon. (It was eighteen years ago; people are allowed to forget things.)
    Or, if you prefer, you may appoint a neutral referee to make inquiries on your behalf in order to ensure some kind of fairness.
    Presumably there are only a few questions that need to be answered: Did the Fraser Institute host an event featuring Margaret Thatcher at Toronto's Royal York Hotel in 1993? Was I Director of Development at The Fraser Institute at the time? Did I raise the money to pay for the event? Were photographs taken? Was I in one of those photographs?
    That should cover it, right?
    I am prepared to put it all on the line right here, right now.
    So which person would you like to e-mail:
    1. The person I shared an office with at the time? A Ph.D in History, former university professor, now working as a newspaper columnist and regular contributor on a Canadian news network. He was there.
    2. My former boss? Ph.D in Economics, former Advisor to the Governor of the Bank of Canada. He's now retired but will likely remember my attendance at this event, since I'm the one who raised the money to make it happen. He and I also had some good old-fashioned shouting matches while I worked for him. (Absolutely brilliant man, but one of the most difficult people to work for whom I've ever encountered.)
    3. How about my best man? Actually he was my best man on two occasions, but I digress. He's the former owner of Canada's last privately-held Internet Service Provider and the son of one of the founders of a Canadian television network. He was there as my guest. One year later, and at the last minute, he volunteered to serve as photographer for an event featuring the U.S. vice-President, who was in town for a speaking engagement with us.
    So take your pick.
    Give me a bit of time and I can probably recall others who were there and who will certainly remember my being there as well. Unfortunately, the Institute's Director of Events/Conferences in 1993 has retired. But her then-Assistant now holds her job, so she'd know. Oh wait....and there's our former Director of Finance who, last time I heard, is now an Accouting Professor. (You'll like him. Harvard MBA but not stuffy at all. Good guy.)
    In the meantime, I've given you three very public figures to choose from. Select one, I'll send you their contact information and presto, you shall have your answer. Or you can select all three.
    Then you can apologize.
    Or, you can take the shorter route and apologize now.
    Or, finally, you can take the even shorter route and either ignore this call-out or say something like "I didn't say you weren't there. I said the picture wasn't real." This is the route I expect you to take.
    (Protip, pal: If you're going to accuse someone of using Photoshop, GIMP or any other kind of program of that nature, try to make sure they're actually adept at the program. Within NoR, my complete lack of graphics skills is very well known.)
    Are you man enough, punk? Do you have the courage of your convictions?
    Let me sweeten the pot for you:

    If any public figure whom I recommend says I wasn't there, I will pack up and quit CN for good.


    Ball's in your court, my friend. Do you have the courage to volley or would you rather just admit defeat right now?

    -------------------


    And, before anyone asks why I'm doing this in such a very public manner, it's because our consonant-challenged friend did so first.
    nyah nyah and all that
    (Also, the lady whose face I blacked out -- the publishing V-P -- wasn't sitting. She was just very, very short.)
  2. Ashoka the Great
    I have two computers. The first is my brand new PC that I built this year and am continuing to fine tune. The other is a netbook I picked up a couple of years ago. I have it for those occasions when the missus hijacks my desktop because she wants to do something 'graphics intensive' like harvest in Farmville. *sigh*
    Anyway....
    The netbook came with WinXP, which I immediately removed and replaced with Ubuntu. I don't really store anything on it. It is solely for the purpose of connecting to the 'Net and doing a bit of surfing.
    So imagine my surprise when I opened my 'Documents' folder for the first time in months and saw a folder labeled 'Cyber Nations'.
    "Oooh," I thought. "What goodies lurk therein?"
    It was mostly disappointing. Some war-related graphs from the last conflict, one of those war charts that shows who is being attacked by whom and, well, this:
    http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v703/gfgraham/Cybernations/erwhat.png
    There are 'no no words' on this image. Don't say you weren't warned.
    In this, we travel back eleven months to see a remarkably paranoid Xiphosis planning the end of his alliance. The only thing missing is the part where he blames everyone else for his problems and then gets married the day before he shoots himself in his underground bunker.
    Some high points:
    - "CnG is basically worthless"
    - "....go in hard on NPO and disband them. Outright."
    And once again we see this idea of alliances 'defecting'. In Xiph-speak, it means they're no longer a chain away from backing up his sad excuse for an alliance. Boo freaking hoo.
    What's surprising to me is that no one jumps in and says, "This is a really stupid idea."
    There's Liz from CSN, basically agreeing with whatever Xiphosis proposes because CSN is totally not a GOD puppet.
    Goose likes the idea, says WickedJ likes to run his mouth, and then backtracks when he realizes it's a really stupid idea. It's like a written train-of-thought. Clearly he needs an editor, if only to avoid saying what amounts to "I like it" and "I don't like it" in the same damn post.
    R&R and RIA seem to be trying to speak to Xiphosis as one would take to a guy cradling a loaded firearm.
    But you know what really shocks me? It's not that they have such little respect for supposed friends and allies. No, what makes me pause is the fact that they speak so poorly of their own bloc. As someone who is now a lowly ordinary member of Nordreich, I'd be a bit dismayed if I learned that the leaders of Mj pretty much agreed that everyone in it kinda sucked.
    Is it exciting? I've no idea. Parts of it are very, very funny. To me, at least.
    No clue who gave this to me or when I received it. It may have come from CNtel. Or not. (I'm not registered there, and the quality of what I've seen coming out of there is pretty crappy, so probably not.)
    I could turn on my netbook and check the date when it was created, but the netbook must be at least ten feet away. That sin't gonna happen.
    This would have been much more exciting if I were posting it sometime in the third week of October in 2010. Half-way through September of the following year, it's not terribly relevant but good for a chuckle or two. By now much of this -- Xiphosis' feelings toward GOONS, the NPO, CnG and anyone who thinks he's a clown -- are rather well known.
    So, if the parties involved would like to declare me a spy for receiving information and releasing it publicly well after it's of any real interest to anyone but some kind of CN historian, I believe my official response is: "Suck it."
  3. Ashoka the Great
    If you have a television you've no doubt heard about the nonsense going on between Gene Simmons and his long-time live-in mannequin, Shannon Tweed.
    If not, here's a reasonably short clip that will bring you up to speed.
    I'm not buying it. Not for a second.
    Let me tell you what I think of Gene Simmons. The more I learn about him, the less I like him. He is a complete scumbag. His marketing skills are legendary, but this is more than offset by the fact of his being a really lousy human being. I am proud to be able to say that, in the thirty-seven years since I was first 'introduced' to KISS, I have not paid for their music, purchased a concert ticket or bought any kind of KISS merchandise. Gene Simmons can crow all he wants about how much money he's taken from people. He's not received one red cent from me.
    As I said, though, I do give him credit for his amazing marketing skills. And that's why I don't believe what is apparently going on, and why I will continue to disbelieve it until Shannon Tweed either sues him for tens of millions of dollars or goes all "Brynn Omdahl" on him. Either will convince me. Don't let me down, Shannon.
  4. Ashoka the Great
    In Canada, the question of Native land claims is one that continues to vex politicians and activists alike.
    On the one side are the Natives themselves, who want to maintain their culture while breaking free of paternalistic governments that treat them as unfit to govern themselves. At the extreme one may find those who want to abolish the Indian Act, make Natives into 'full' citizens (who have to pay taxes just like the rest of us) and grant them control/ownership of lands while cutting them off from most of the government handouts they currently receive.
    This 'extreme' position is not merely held by 'so-called angry White men, but by many Natives themselves.
    So what are we going to do about this?
    I say....who cares? I'm here to discuss my land claims, dammit.
    Those who have spoken with me about my family are aware that my ancestors, although they come from many places, have been in North America for a very long time. It's been so long, in fact, that I'm not entirely sure when the first of them arrived here. What I do know is that the last of them to come to Canada did so in 1867, the same year we became a mostly-sovereign country.
    For example, my great-great-great-grandfather was a man by the name of Robert Wagstaff. (Lest you should think I'm grasping at some tenuous relationship with the past, I should point out that 'Wagstaff' was my mother's maiden name.) He was born in Cambridge, England in 1794. In 1815, as a British soldier, he took part in the Battle of New Orleans. In that battle, which the British lost incidentally, he was severely wounded in the neck.
    I can only imagine what it would have been like to take a musket ball to the neck. Perhaps the only thing worse than that would be living to talk about it later.
    Anyway, Robert Wagstaff, who was not even 21 at the time of this battle, must have eventually become an officer or a very high-ranking NCO. I say this because more than twenty years after returning home to England, he was back in North America to fight on behalf of the Crown. This time, however, he was taking part in quelling the (Canadian) Rebellions of 1837, which in fact stretched into 1838.
    The Rebellion quashed and many of its leaders hanged, Robert decided to settle down in 'muddy York', the town that had recently been renamed 'Toronto'. He had good reason to stay here, since the Crown had promised free land to British soldiers who fought in her defense.
    Alas, Robert was not to see this free land. He died in August 1843, with the cause of death listed as 'wounds sustained in battle'. It was that nearly thirty-year-old injury that ultimately killed him, although the gory details are, perhaps thankfully, unavailable.
    The following December, his widow (my great-great-great-grandmother) wrote to the Crown's representative in Canada, His Excellency the Right Honourable Sir Charles Theophilus Metcalfe, Governor-General. She asked that the Crown make good on its promise. Actually, she begged the Crown to keep its word, if not for her then for the sake of her five children.
    The Governor-General informed her that the rules had changed, there was no more free land being given out and, if there were, the Governor-General would be the wrong person to ask for help anyway.
    Sounds like the government, doesn't it?
    My great-great-great grandmother married another man, mostly likely to avoid living in penury for the rest of her life. This is what government inaction did to a soldier's widow, forcing her to practically enslave herself to a man in order to feed her children.
    For shame!
    Well, I say enough is enough. My ancestors were promised land and they were deceived. Now, nearly two centuries later, it is time to right that wrong and make good on the Crown's promise.
    I want my land, dammit.
    If my ancestors were promised even as little as five or ten acres -- an amount that seems ridiculously small for the time -- then surely some kind of inflation must be taken into account when redressing this gross injustice. To show I am a reasonable person, I am willing to take possession of approximately 570 acres of land that is, for the most part, uninhabited.
    To those who inhabit the lands I claim in the name of my ancestors and for the benefit of my descendants, I promise to be a fair and just ruler. As a City-State (more of a Hamlet-State, actually) within Canada they shall enjoy all the rights accorded by law and the Constitution.
    It is time to settle all land claims, but ME FIRST.
  5. Ashoka the Great
    We've all seen this picture, I think. It's downright iconic.
    Well, seeing it posted in a thread today reminded me of a fun story.
    It was 1993 or 1994, I believe. I was working for an economic research institute, and we were expecting a group of economic experts from the PRC, all of whom had the title of 'Vice-Chairman'. (I found that hilarious, for some reason.)
    The day before they arrived, a protocol officer from the Canadian government dropped by to make sure we understood who our guests were, topics that were off-limits and so on.
    He walked into my office, looked at the wall and saw that it was dominated by a very large print of the above photo.
    ProtocolGuy: I would ask you to please take down that picture as it may offend your guests.
    Me: Sure, I'll take it down. By the way, what's Mandarin for, "Kiss my $@!, murderer"?
    My boss intervened at that point, and we compromised on closed curtains. (My office had two glass walls.)
    The next day the meeting came and went. It was notable for two things:
    - these Chinese economic 'experts' clearly did not understand how a free market worked
    - they were shocked that a research institute that was critical of government policies could be allowed to exist
    Several times I watched my boss try --and very nearly succeed -- to conceal the fact that he was laughing at them.
    The meeting ended, the board room doors opened and everyone stepped out.
    In the meantime, my secretary, who complained whenever I closed my curtains ("It makes it too dark around my desk," she'd say) had opened them to brighten our corner of the office.
    Oh, did I mention my office was right outside the board room?
    Good times.
  6. Ashoka the Great
    After my wife and I were married we lived with her parents for a year. It wasn't about saving money or anything like that. Both my in-laws had just taken early retirement from teaching, were in 'fragile' states and needed some help. We continue to live in the same area to this day. My mother-in-law died three-and-a-half years ago. My father-in-law still needs our help. But I digress....
    Across the street from us lived a couple with three children: two teenagers and a young son who is/was the same age as my step-daughter. She and this boy have been in the same class nearly every year since she was in kindergarten.
    A week ago, this kid's father was driving home when he had a heart attack just a couple of blocks from his house. His car went off the road and crashed, but by then he was already dead. He was in his mid-50s. I've no idea what sort of provision he made for his wife and son, but I'm not optimistic. (Protip: I'm almost never optimistic.)
    A couple of days later, our cat had the kittens we'd been expecting for a few weeks. My wife and I acted as midwives. I held the cat and comforted it as much as possible while my wife helped at the....er....'other end'.
    The entire litter was stillborn.
    I don't know if it's possible for a cat to 'mourn' over such things, but she's been extremely needy the last few days. I can't go anywhere in the house with her following me. If I stop she'll lie down on my feet, perhaps to prevent me from moving any further.
    Meanwhile....
    Yesterday was my youngest son's birthday party. I spent the afternoon entertaining five-year-olds.
    Life begins, life ends, life goes on. Just another week.
  7. Ashoka the Great
    Let me begin by explaining the circumstances surrounding the agreement Nordreich signed with World Federation. Many have commented on its strange wording and how, upon examination, it leaves Nordreich with 'interesting' options.
    First, it is true that we never really considered that conflict to be 'our' war. While we did not show any hesitation with respect to supporting Nueva Vida through activation of the 'oA' portion of our treaty, from almost the beginning of our intervention it was clear that Nueva Vida felt much as we did. The reality is that enthusiasm for any war is less than total when one's alliance is the fourth or fifth link on a very long chain.
    Two days before our agreement with wF was reached, we entered into a ceasefire agreement pending what we expected to be reasonably simple negotiations.
    We tried very hard to get peace for that entire front, but one alliance whom I shall not name dug in its heels so hard that progress for the group as a whole was impossible. Nueva Vida gave us their blessing to exit the conflict along with World Federation. That is why in the wF/NoR thread one did not see any complaints coming from Nueva Vida.
    It should be noted that while Nordreich was preparing to exit one war, we were being invited to take part in another.
    It is no secret that Nordreich considers the Federation of Armed Nations to be among our best friends. People on both sides have worked very hard over the last couple of years to overcome past suspicions and to build a genuine relationship between our two alliances. The astute will recall that in the last major conflict, our support for FAN was listed among the reasons we went to war with Valhalla.
    Therefore it should come as no surprise that our friends in the Federation of Armed Nations asked if we would honor the 'oA' part of our gentlemen's agreement and assist somewhere on the ever-widening front in the war against the New Pacific Order. Not being the sort to turn our backs on our friends, we agreed to assist somewhere on that front within 5-7 days of our agreement with World Federation.
    That was nearly three weeks ago.
    I should note that while we were still working out details with World Federation, most if not all of the leadership of Doomhouse, Pandora's Box and their allies were very much aware of our intentions. Nordreich's leadership was in discussions with several alliances with respect to where we could best make use of our modest war machine.
    As is true with any alliance, we counted on the support of at least some of our allies in any conflict. Nueva Vida was 'busy', so to speak. The same was true of Ragnarok. Valhalla had little interest in either of the wars involving the Orders. This left a rather short list of allies, including our friends in The Dark Templar.
    Few are aware of the ties that bind The Dark Templar and Nordreich. Myworld and his alliance sheltered many Nordreich members who were re-establishing their presence on Planet Bob in the months before Nordreich's reformation in May 2009. We owe them a blood debt; one that can never be repaid in full. This will help to explain why, when Nordreich was given the honor of submitting three flags for use by all nations, one of those we chose was that of The Dark Templar.
    And so we hoped that our friends would be given the opportunity to fight by our side once again.
    However, those who hate Nordreich had other plans.
    The Commonwealth of Sovereign Nations demanded 40,000 tech from The Dark Templar as their condition for ending the war. Myworld and the rest of The Dark Templar were shocked. Why should CSN make such exorbitant demands? Why were they attempting to extort DT?
    I attempted to reason with Xiphosis, who is now acknowledged as the author of those ludicrous terms. My efforts were to no avail. His argument boiled down to "Might makes right" and "To the victors go the spoils." No matter how well he dressed up this nonsense, the stench gave it away for the garbage it was and remains.
    And yes, he was already fully aware of Nordreich's intention to stand with FAN.
    As one might well imagine, this did not go down well with Nordreich's government. As a former Kaiser, as someone who by virtue of past service continues to enjoy some access to the hallowed halls of government, I said the following:
    Others had already made this point. And it has become Nordreich's policy with respect to the DT/CSN affair.
    We made our position known to FAN. Of course they were unhappy, but as an honorable alliance they understood our dilemma. They offered their diplomatic assistance with respect to working the matter out. Other alliances -- including those with whom Nordreich has no treaties whatsoever -- also sent representatives to speak with CSN and their GODly puppetmaster.
    Perhaps I should end that part of the narrative here, since it is obvious how well that worked.
    We agreed to stay out of the VE-NpO War on the understanding that our friends would be allowed to exit in a timely manner as well. At the end of the day, all I can say is that we were deceived. But it was not only we who were deceived. The member alliances of Doomhouse, the Federation of Armed Nations....indeed, anyone fighting on that side of the war against the NPO was betrayed.
    This has become something of an open secret, so I am here today to lay the entire matter before the handful of people who are unaware of this.
    The Doomhouse-NPO War has turned into something of a stalemate. Unless something dramatic happens, it is unlikely that there will be peace for a very, very long time.
    Through their anger and short-sightedness, Xiphosis and CSN have managed to keep at least 8,000,000 NS from entering the war.
    We have now reached the point where damn-near everyone involved knows what Nordreich's plans were. Nearly every alliance engaged against the New Pacific Order or its allies is aware of this. I am also personally aware that some on the NPO's side know about this as well. So it's for the best that I lay it all on the table, in order to quash whispered rumors with stated facts.
    We are all witness to one of the most peculiar events I have ever seen.
    Blinded by anger and unable to see 'the big picture' even if it were painted on the side of a barn, Xiphosis and his stooges are doing more to materially aid the NPO than they would by declaring war on Pacifica's opponents. Should there ever be a museum dedicated to the idea of "Unintended Consequences" then I do believe we have found something worthy of permanent display.
    And so, gentle reader, I ask that you join me in a toast.

    All Hail Xiphosis!
    All Hail the Global Order of Darkness!
    All Hail the Commonwealth of Sovereign Nations!
    Honor and Glory to These And All Heroes of Pacifica!


    For those with short attention spans, a tl;dr:
  8. Ashoka the Great
    Every now and then I'll notice that players have their Political Compass score as part of their signature. I cannot tell you how many times I've tried this test. More than three but less than ten, probably. Each time, I gave up somewhere around Page 3.
    Way back when studying for the priesthood, I took a variety of personality tests. I was interviewed by several psychologists. Before that, while working in public policy, I was given security clearance in order to fête various government-types from various countries including my own.
    It is said that the unexamined life is not worth living. Well, having been compelled to examine my life from a variety of vantage points, I can also tell you that the over-examined life ain't so hot, either.
    There's another reason I've avoided the Political Compass. As you may have picked up from the above comments, I hate tests, especially those that purport to tell me more about myself. I think they're all about as reliable as opening up the paper and checking my horoscope. (I'm a Pisces. We're supposed to be sensitive and caring and all that. Oh btw, I have the same birthday as Josef Mengele.)
    Anyway, tonight I decided to try the Political Compass again. Not once, but twice. In the first test, I gave nuanced answers which most closely reflect my views at any given time. In the second test, I allowed myself only the option of 'Strongly Agree' or 'Strongly Disagree'. Nothing in-between.
    I did this because, like most people, there are times when I feel like supporting the most drastic measures available. For example, each time I read about a serial killer being put away for life instead of genuinely paying for his crimes, I find that I am willing to support capital punishment for people who cut me off in traffic. When my own father was recently denied a place in a veterans' home because he had not served five or more years in the Canadian Army -- he served about four-and-a-half, including more than a year in combat in Korea -- I would have supported damn-near any measure that would guarantee seniors a measure of dignity.
    And so on.
    We all do this, right? I call it the 'If I Were Dictator' hypothesis. Something annoys us and in our minds we can't help but imagine how we'd do things if only we had the unlimited power to do so. (By the way, if I'm ever Supreme Dictator all office telephones, photocopiers and coffee makers will have identical instructions for use. If you've worked in more than a couple of offices, you know why.)
    Anyway, according to this test, here's where I sit on a normal day:



    I find this result to be interesting. I have spent a large part of my working life in public policy research, and the organizations I have worked for would tend to put me more to the economic right. I mean, geez, I organized Milton Friedman's (belated) eightieth birthday party in Vancouver, coinciding with a Regional Meeting of the Mont Pelerin Society. My (economic) libertarian credentials are pretty darn good, at least on paper. But, according to this test, not in practice.
    Interesting. Perhaps I'm mellowing in my middle age, at least with regard to economic policy. Or perhaps I've just given up on the idea of making government small again.
    With regard to personal liberty, that's no surprise at all. I've always been a "Get off my damn lawn" kind of guy.
    Alright....having dispensed with that, let's see what the world would look like if I were granted absolute power.



    And this is what the world would be like if I were handed supreme authority.
    So what have I learned?
    Well, apparently I'm an Authoritarian Centrist. For some reason I find that to be very funny. Or, rather, I found it funny until I compared my results with the placement of various political figures on the Political Compass:



    Ha ha. Very funny.
  9. Ashoka the Great
    But no, it's not about this election.
    Grab some cocoa and sit down. The story's not a terribly long one, but for astute followers of either Canadian politics or the American media this may provide a smile or two.
    Our story begins in my home town of Toronto, a few days after the September 4, 1984 General Election.
    I was sitting at home watching TV when the phone rang. It was John Oostrom, newly-elected MP from the Riding of Willowdale. He said that on election night he had spoken with all of his opponents to congratulate them on a well-fought campaign, but he didn't know how to get in touch with me. Not surprisingly, the Libertarian candidate (me) didn't have an office, an election staff and all those other goodies.
    I told him I'd had a lot of fun, and had been going over the poll-by-poll results. John said he'd been doing the same, and he was able to figure out which polls I had canvassed personally. Instead of having poll results somewhere between 0 and 3 -- God bless the elderly and protest voters, I say -- polls where I'd put in a personal appearance (and there weren't many of them) showed votes in the 15-20 range.
    "Those were my votes you took away, you know," said John in his rather strong Dutch accent. Oh....I knew. Believe me, I knew. I also knew that his margin of victory was less than 400. The only thing that kept him from losing that election was my own sloth.
    He asked me to keep in touch, and I said I would.
    About three-and-a-half years later, I got in touch with John and asked him to write a letter of recommendation for me. At the time, Ryerson's Journalism program had an applicant-to-accepted ratio of nearly 20-to-1. Nearly 2,000 people were applying for the roughly 150 spots in first-year, and I wanted in. I had a letter from a graduate of the program and another one from a recently-retired TV network executive. A letter from a sitting MP might be overkill, but better safe than sorry, right?
    He agreed to write the letter, but then he said he had a favor to ask of me. "First, I need you to say you won't run against me again," he said. Not a problem. I had no intention of diverting attention away from my education by running again. "And I want you to be in charge of one of my canvassing zones."
    *sigh*
    I agreed. Coordinating others' canvassing was considerably easier than doing it yourself, I figured, and much easier on the feet, too.
    Fast-forward about seven months to November 21, 1988 and....
    Once the votes were counted on election night, mine was the only zone that had gone in John's favor. The others were heavily stacked against him, and he lost his bid for re-election.
    That night I pulled double-duty of a sort. I was not only at John's campaign HQ, but I was also working for a local TV station, phoning in every few minutes and providing them with the latest poll results. (It was a one-night gig that had been advertised on the Journalism school's 'Jobs' board. I didn't get paid, but I got to put "CITY-TV" on my resume. Yippee.)
    With the ballot-counting over and both jobs done, I went to a party at the TV station. The place was packed. Since CITY-TV was (and is) noted for being one gigantic studio without walls, there were cameras all over the place and TV screens wherever one looked.
    I was standing in front of a monitor, talking to myself about the fate of Liberal leader John Turner, who had just had the snot beaten out of him for the second time in a row. "Poor guy will have to resign now," I said to no one in particular.
    "What do you mean?" came an unsolicited response.
    I turned and standing directly behind me was one of the station's meat-puppets, his head cocked like the RCA Victor dog. This was a man whose 'news' experience consisted of being given a local anchor spot after several years of hosting shows about music videos. He had a reputation for not being very bright, but he read his lines well.
    "Well," I explained, "in Canadian politics getting beaten a couple of times in a row is usually the kiss of death. Getting beaten this badly twice in a row leaves Turner with no other option. He can either resign or face some kind of revolt from his own caucus."
    "Really?" came the reply. "Wow." I had the distinct feeling that I hadn't dumbed it down quite enough, or that perhaps I'd confused him. Had a slow-moving stream of drool started running down his face from his mouth-breathing countenance, I would have been unsurprised.
    But I was wrong, for a few minutes later I learned that I had indeed taught him well.
    As is traditional in Canadian politics, the losers give their concession speeches first. As people crowded around monitors to watch John Turner make his way to the podium to formally concede, there came a shout.
    "Go ahead and resign! That's two in a row! Resign!"
    It was, of course, the meat-puppet whom I'd spoken with mere moments before.
    It's an experience I've never been able to quite forget, for it was instructive in oh-so-many ways. I learned that one could be a commentator and a complete !@#$@#$ moron. I learned that the trick isn't to be intelligent, but rather to seem to have two brain cells to rub together. The ability to read and looking good on television were, ultimately, the only things that really mattered. It was true in 1988. It is even more true today.
    I don't know whatever happened to that idiot. There was a rumor that someone had fallen for his good looks and charm, and offered him a job if only he would cut his long hair and drop the open-collared-check-out-my-hairy-chest-I'm-a-freakin'-gigolo 'look' for a more businesslike appearance. I've no idea whether or not this is what happened to him, but through the miracle of age-enhancing software heretofore available only to police agencies, I have a reasonably good idea of how he might appear today.

    Have you seen this man?


  10. Ashoka the Great
    Alright.....I need a bit of a run-up for this.
    I'm from Toronto, Canada's largest city. This is what our skyline looks like:

    That huge needle is the CN Tower. Now, I could give you the numbers as to its height and so on, but raw numbers mean nothing. Instead, I ask you to think in relative terms.
    See that white office tower just right of center? That's the Bank of Montreal building. It is seventy-two stories tall. Knowing this should help you appreciate the "holy-crap-that's-big" nature of the CN Tower.
    In August the CN Tower will be adding a new 'feature'. While tethered (supposedly firmly), people will be given the opportunity to walk around the outside. I kid you not. The outside.
    Here's the mock-up that's being used to show what this will look like:

    Don't get me wrong. I am definitely not afraid of heights. I have been up the CN Tower many, many times since it opened in 1976. The view is simply amazing.
    What I am afraid of is wide-open heights. A few years ago the CN Tower installed clear acrylic floors in part of their observation deck. Although I'm well aware that said floors could support several full-grown elephants, looking straight down makes me feel rather....well, not quite right.
    According to the folks who run the CN Tower, advance sales of tickets for this....attraction?....have been much better than anticipated. While I understand the whole bravado thing that might lead many to do this, here are some of the things I thought of when it was announced:
    1. Presumably there is some kind of mechanism in place to keep people moving in the same direction. Otherwise you could have a line of people waiting.
    2. So you're tethered in. You're walking around. You slip. And, for a second or two, you feel like you're going to fall to your death. Oh boy. Hope you brought some flushable wipes.
    3. What happens if someone gets half-way around and panics? They stand there, frozen in fear. What then? Is there some kind of mechanical thing that will essentially drag them around to the other side? And will EMTs be on hand to give CPR to the poor person whose heart stopped when they were dragged around with their feet hanging over the edge?
    Seriously....this thing just screams "lawsuit" the more I think about it. It doesn't matter if people sign a waiver of some kind. If at some point there is some kind of flaw that kills someone, there will be a lawsuit.
    So....would you?
  12. Ashoka the Great
    A while back I made a few posts about building a new PC for myself for the first time in about eight years. I got some great advice and ended up building a computer far better than I had initially intended.
    And then the nightmare began.
    Within weeks, the memory modules on my motherboard started failing. No reason. They just died. So I sent the mobo back to the manufacturer and bought a second motherboard (different brand) of somewhat better quality. SATA3 instead of SATA2, Crossfire enabled and so on. My idea was to simply sell the replacement mobo once it arrived, keeping the upgrade.
    After using this for a few weeks, I noticed that my stock CPU fan and rear 120mm exhaust were really quite loud. The CPU fan sounded like a small vacuum, while the exhaust made a lot of noise while moving a surprisingly small amount of air. The CPU was running about 10C hotter as well.
    And then I had a great idea. I rushed out and bought an Antec H2O 620 liquid cooler. Reviews for this have been great, especially in terms of noise. The theory was that I would be replacing two loud fans with one quiet fan (and a radiator) that would actually do a better job of cooling.
    Alas, t'was not to be. I unpackcaged the cooler, installed it and....the fan was dead. Argh.
    Had you been in my house at about 0200 Saturday morning, you would have heard me mutter "Are you !@#$@#$ kidding me?" over and over and over again.
    Since I'd bought it only yesterday, today I marched the whole PC back to my local retailer and asked them to yank it out for me and install a different model of a higher-end air cooler. (I'd bought the last 620 in stock. Argh.)
    No problemo. My local computer place is pretty good about things like this.
    Anyway, they swapped everything out, hooked everything up, hit the power switch and....
    Dead motherboard.
    Seriously.
    Another goddamn mother$%&@ing piece of !@#$ motherboard.
    Anyway, three days ago I received an e-mail from the manufacturer of mobo #1. The replacement has now been shipped. Tuesday morning -- it's a long weekend here -- I'll be shipping the second motherboard off to its manufacturer.
    For now, though, here I am on my notebook which, thank God, is working just fine.
    "This build has really been a nightmare for you," quoth Captain Obvious at my local computer retailer today. No !@#$, Sherlock.
    What have I learned from this? Hmmm....I don't know if there's anything to be taken away from this. I don't blame the manufacturers, since all of the products I bought had received great reviews and, well, there's always going to be that one guy who gets (or builds) a complete lemon.
    One thought I've had, though, is that once you've built a system, only open it up to give it a few blasts from an air duster every few weeks. Clean out those fan filters, if you have them. (I do.) Otherwise, don't touch a damn thing. Resist the temptation to upgrade. Instead, wait three years -- the average useful lifespan of a higher-end PC these days -- and then go out, buy the components for a new system and, once it's assembled, don't touch that one either.
  13. Ashoka the Great
    Last weekend, emboldened by White Sambuca, I attempted a daring maneuver while riding a friend's Goped. I attempted a jump of sorts. I will not describe it, lest someone else copy it and then try to sue me for encouraging them.
    By the way, did anyone know that Goped's aren't built for jumping?
    Long story short....I ended up going over the handlebars and landing quite roughly on asphalt. Of course I was wearing a helmet, knee pads, elbow pads and gloves? OK, I lie. My protection consisted of a Hawaiian shirt, shorts and sneakers. This might help to explain how I tore open my left knee, the back of my left hand and, in a particularly gruesome way, my right elbow.
    At first I thought my face had bounced off the ground, but apparently Sambuca did not prevent me from getting my arms between my handsome visage and the pavement. My face actually bounced off my right forearm.
    After running my various wounds under water to wash out the bits of gravel therein, I bandaged myself up as best I could in the absence of anything resembling a first aid kit. (Basically, I used soaked paper towel as a compress, holding it firmly on each wound -- beginning with the worst -- until the bloodflow had slowed to a trickle. This took quite some time.) Even now, nearly a week later, my right elbow continues to be a 'slow leak', as each time I bend my arm I re-open the wound. (Just try to go for a week without bending your arm. Surprisingly difficult.)
    And, as I said to my wife yesterday, "My everything hurts." (For example., I can't raise my right arm more than 90 degrees without experiencing rather a lot of pain.) The missus is strangely unsympathetic with respect to my crippled state. Something about it being "your own damn fault."
    Whatever that means.
    So....smashed bottles? Well no, not really. But I'm pretty sure that consuming a large amount of alcohol and then concussing oneself so that one spends the next eighteen hours driving The Great Porcelain Bus qualifies as a tragic loss of expensive alcohol.
    Feel better, Alfred?
  14. Ashoka the Great
    More RL adventures here, kids.
    Let me begin by saying that I live on the second floor of a two-storey, wood-framed building. It's not ideal, but we moved here back in 2006 for a reason. At the time, my mother-in-law was fighting a comeback of breast cancer (she died on Boxing Day the same year) and my father-in-law had recently been diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease. Their house is two blocks away. We've been on call 24/7 for four years now.
    I don't mind, really. This is what families do. Well, what they're supposed to do, anyway.
    But lately....
    I've been dealing with a drunken, abusive neighbor. In recent weeks, he has been blaring his music at all hours. In a wood-framed building, this guy has a drum kit. Seriously. A drum kit.
    Getting nowehere in trying to reason with him, I phoned the property manager to complain. About 15-20 complaints later, and after he got drunk and followed the Superintendent's 15-year-old daughter around while screaming "Yo fatty!" at her repeatedly, they finally sent him a letter telling him to smarten up. They also commenced eviction proceedings, since apart from all of this he hits on every female who lives in or comes near the building and staggers around the parking lot, drunk and incoherent. People with kids (like me and several others) don't particularly appreciate this.
    And then my car was vandalized. Someone took a screwdriver or icepick to every single window and quite simply scratched the hell out of them. There's ~$2,000 worth of damage. We didn't have 'comprehensive' insurance to cover vandalism since it was an 'occasional use' vehicle, so my car -- a previously-pristine '98 Bonneville with 120,000km on it -- is a write-off.
    Later that night, three neighbors and I heard him bragging about it to his kids (seriously, to his kids?) and telling them how to lie to cover for him if/when the police asked about it. He finished off the evening by spending under my bedroom window, screaming about how much he hates me, how he thinks my wife is cheating on me and "Don't get me started on those !@#$@#$ kids." (The children who live with me, btw, are a 13-year-old girl and a 5-year-old boy.)
    The following Wednesday (a week ago today) he was standing in the parking lot outside my apartment at 11:00 p.m., pointing a camera toward my place and taking flash photos. That same night he followed my wife around outside when she went downstairs for a cigarette. He just kept saying "Good evening!" over and over and over again while staying about three feet behind her.
    Two-bit intimidation. That's all it is.
    And yes, we've spoken to the police.
    Apparently all of this is harassment, but not criminal harassment. The fact that he admitted to the vandalism in front of witnesses is meaningless, since nobody actually saw him do it. They said they could go talk to him, but that would probably just make it worse. (Translation: "Wow, sucks to be you, but we don't want to do anything. Now if you'll excuse us, it's time for our coffee break.")
    Their advice? Move. Seriously. Move.
    Until then, they won't do anything unless someone actually gets hurt. But if I do something, I become The Bad Guy.
    Helpful, right?
    ----
    So, if you happen to catch me on IRC and I'm not all that chatty or I seem irritated, now you know why.
    But remember....
    Sometimes, believing in Karma means taking the long view. My wife has somehow managed to convince me that going to prison because of this moron isn't worth it. But eventually he's going to cross paths with someone who lacks my patience.
    I only hope I get to hear about it.
  15. Ashoka the Great
    A very simple question. Is this one big war or are there two very distinct conflicts going on? (Namely, the VE-NpO War and the Doomhouse-NPO War.)
    I tend to see them as two separate global conflicts, making this a unique situation in CN history. I can't think of two global wars occurring simultaneously. Doesn't mean it hasn't happened, of course, but I tend not to pay attention to world affairs unless my alliance is involved or at risk of becoming involved.
    Others, however, see the wars as interconnected and therefore part of a larger global war.
    My objection to the second point of view is fairly simple. There is virtually zero likelihood of my alliance becoming involved in the Doomhouse-NPO 'front', if that's what one wishes to call it..
    In fact, if Nordreich and World Federation were to reach some kind of peace agreement today, we would be out of the VE-NpO War as well. (We have other allies involved, but no requests for help that I'm aware of.)
    Each of us will have our own particular 'take' on this, and it will likely be prejudiced by where we see our alliance in this mess. Nevertheless, I believe there are decent arguments to be made on both sides. Feel free to make yours here.
  16. Ashoka the Great
    OK, so remember a while back when I asked for opinions about a new computer? I was basically thinking of updating to an AM2+ system with a modest amount of memory, a reasonably small hard drive and all that.
    So....ummm....it didn't quite work out that way.
    My computer is now nearly finished. I just need to go out and buy a copy of Win 7 and, apart from a couple of minor modifications, it will be all done. Earlier today I installed Linux on it, simply to ensure that everything was connected, working, and not about to burst into flames.
    Oh, hang on a sec. I haven't told you what I've put together. It looks something like this:
    Motherboard - ASUS M4A77T/USB3
    CPU - AMD Athlon II X4 3.0GHz
    RAM - 8GB (4 x 2GB) Mushkin Silverline
    Boot Drive (Windows only) - 60GB Corsair SSD
    Programs/Storage Drive - 500GB Western Digital Caviar Black
    Video Card - ASUS 5450
    Some may ask why I went so cheap on the video card. As I explained before, I'm not a big gamer, and all of the games I play are anywhere from 3-8 years old. I simply don't need anything else. This card is DirectX 11 ready and could even be used in a Hybrid Crossfire configuration down the road. (I'd need a different motherboard for that, however.)
    As to why I picked an Athlon II over a Phenom II, I checked out CPU benchmarks and found that a higher-end Athlon II CPU performs quite well when compared with a lower-end Phenom II:
    AMD Phenom II X4 955 3,938
    AMD Athlon II X4 640 3,507
    The Phenom II represents a mere 12% improvement over the Athlon II, but at a price that is 33% higher. I doubt most users would notice much of a difference between the two, especially in light of the hard drive configuration I have.
    Having an SSD as my Windows drive was an idea that occurred to me only a couple of days ago. While I'm certain it's hardly a unique set-up -- mostly because it makes so much sense -- I nevertheless was quite pleased with myself when I thought of it.
    And wow....what a difference from booting Win XP on a P4 2.66 GHz using some kind of no-name drive when compared to firing up Linux on an SSD. The SSD I picked up has read/write speeds of 285MB/s and 275MB/s, respectively. In other words, blink and you might miss the boot-up process entirely.
    When I saw this, my jaw dropped (literally) and I blurted out something eloquent like, "Holy !@#$!"
    For the first time in a long time, I had a multiple nerdgasm.
    I don't have pics yet. My wife insists that not only is our camera full but not one of the treasured pictures on it can be deleted until they've been transferred over to something a bit more permanent. I dunno....something about my youngest son getting an award and my daughter's school play. Nothing that comes close to the importance of sharing my new PC with a bunch of strangers on the Internet. (As I typed that, I experienced a moment's shame when I realized that on some level I actually meant what I was saying. Then the shame passed, and I went back to being annoyed.)
    I have a couple of minor tweaks to make beyond simply installing Win 7, but I'll save those for the photo shoot.
    I must tell you, though, that sitting here typing away on my old PC while my new one sits unused just a few feet away has made me feel something I've not felt in a long time. I don't know quite how to describe it, but it's very much like being a kid and noticing, a couple of days before Christmas, that there's something under the tree that despite it's wrapping is clearly what you've been asking everyone for.
  17. Ashoka the Great
    Recently, I reported on my little Goped adventure; the one that ended with my picking bits of the road out of my shredded flesh.
    At the time I said:
    My concern was that I couldn't raise my right arm more than ninety degrees relative to the rest of my body. A few days later and I still couldn't. This wasn't owing to any pain -- although there was still plenty of that -- but rather because I simply couldn't do it. My arm would go up, and yes it would hurt while doing so, but it would abruptly stop. No amount of exertion could lift it any further.
    <insert f-word here>
    So I decided to go see my family doctor. A few agonizing twists and turns later, and I was off to get an ultrasound.
    The verdict: a torn rotator cuff. That's the preliminary verdict, anyway. I have to go in next week for more details.
    One of two things will happen:
    1. I will begin a long course of physiotherapy. This doesn't thrill me, frankly, for while it is true that we enjoy 'free' medical care up here, there's a long list of things that aren't covered. The decision with respect to what to exclude is done on a province-by-province basis, and Ontario doesn't cover physiotherapy. I have extended medical coverage, but I'm unsure if it will cover this.
    2. Surgery. Believe it or not, this is actually the preferred option, since the province will cover post-surgical physiotherapy. I learned this after having my back operated on a couple of years ago.
    And thus we see the logic of socialized medicine. They'll cover surgery and then physio, but not physio alone that might help one to avoid surgery altogether.
    The only thing that concerns me about the surgical option is the wait, not the surgery itself. In many socialized medicine threads in the BR, I've mentioned the appalling wait times in Canada. In the 1990s, I worked for a group that was conducting the only surveys of wait times across Canada at the time. Back then, I was surprised at how long one had to wait for things like bypass surgery (53 weeks in Newfoundland at the time) or for a referral to a cancer specialist after diagnosis (4-6 weeks or more) in various parts of the country.
    Since then, I've had quite enough personal experiences with the healthcare system to see just how bad it can be.
    In February 2000, after thirteen years of misdiagnoses, I was diagnosed with Hepatitis C. I then waited until January 2001 before seeing a liver specialist for a consult. There was a multi-year wait before beginning treatment, and I was not officially 'cleared' until the Spring of 2008.
    On March 19, 2006 I was hit by a car while pushing my son in a stroller at a four-way stop. (He was fine, btw. I put myself between the oncoming car and the stroller.) I spent the next three years on ever-increasing doses of painkillers until I had the corrective surgery in September 2009.
    When hearing stories like this, some Canadians will pipe in with their own tales about how quickly they were seen/treated by specialists. To this I can only say what my former employers' studies found nearly twenty years ago: some doctors have better access than others. If you're a doctor and you're good friends with, say, a cardiologist, odds are pretty good your referrals will go through more quickly. Other doctors have become expert at helping their patients avoid the long lines by telling them to report to an emergency room with the relevant symptoms, whereupon they are treated much more quickly than someone who waits in line. (We learned about this from a doctor in Newfoundland with respect to the bypass wait times mentioned above. I doubt that his was an isolated story.)
    All of this should serve as a cautionary tale for my friends to the south who want a Canadian-style healthcare system. As any economist will tell you, when something is free then demand for it begins to approach a hypothetical 'infinity'. And so it's no surprise that wait times keep getting worse. Emergency rooms and doctos' offices are filled with people who could stay home, treat themselves, and recover in the same amount of time. But since healthcare is 'free' they don't have anything to discourage them from wasting everybody's time.
    Don't misunderstand me. In theory, I prefer our system to one that is entirely privatized. But somewhere along the way the powers-that-be screwed it up quite badly.
    In early 2002, while visiting New Mexico, I experienced terrible symptoms that were Hep C-related. I had traveler's insurance. I saw a doctor, received a referral and then saw a specialist that afternoon. He was able to quickly ascertain the problem, recommend palliative measures and so on. I got through the rest of my two-month trip to NM without incident. Compare that with the experience I related earlier and you'll see just how stark the difference can be.
    Something else many Americans don't realize is that Canada often sends 'overflow' patients to American facilities that are close to the border. Costs are covered by the government of whatever province the patient lives in.
    Anyway....
    This is all a long, roundabout way of saying that I'm in considerable pain, it will probably only get worse, and I will likely become, once again, physically dependent on the painkillers I receive until some kind of actual treatment occurs. (Oh boy, withdrawal! Can't wait to go through that again. Kicking OxyContin after eighteen months of heavy use was a real treat.)
    tl;dr - FML
    ------
    Oh, wait....I have another fun tale.
    My kids' school was broken into on Thursday night. Various glass things were smashed, including an $8,000 fish tank that had been paid for by students/parents via 'subscriptions'.
    The individuals responsible were caught less than a block away and in possession of a fire extinguisher they had taken.
    Local police said they couldn't do anything because, when discovered, the perps were no longer on school property. Also, they were all under 18. So police gave them a stern talking to and then let them go. I'm about 99% certain they didn't even bother to contact their parents.
    And thus my local police department's policy of not giving a rat's ass about crimes against property continues. (cf. The many stories I related in this blog with respect to my d-bag former neighbor who did $3K worth of vandalism to my car.)
  18. Ashoka the Great

    School Daze

    By Ashoka the Great,

    Oh the first day of school. Truly it is something every parent enjoys, as it brings eight or nine weeks of having to entertain the kids every damn day to a close.
    For ten wonderful months, they're someone else's problem for six hours a day, Monday to Friday.
    Ahhhhhhhhhh....just feel that stress going away.
    Of course, a return to school also means that one is subjected to well-meaning stupidity on the part of one's Board of Education, school principal or teacher. Sometimes it's hard to figure out who is responsible for which moronic idea.
    Anyway, I now present a list of rules that have been added for 2011-2012.
    We all know that many schools ban peanut products, owing to the one-in-a-million chance that a kid with a peanut allergy will shake hands with another student immediately after the second pupil has been wrist-deep in a jar of Jif.
    I don't want there to be any misunderstanding here. I understand that peanut allergies can be serious. I also know that during my entire school career a grand total of zero children experienced an anaphylactic reaction to peanut products. If kids can't learn what not to touch, let natural selection sort it out. My God....my friends and I used to play with lawn darts and rode bikes without helmets, and we're all still here and free of non-alcohol-related cognitive impairment.
    However, in my district the school board only enforces its anti-peanut policy until high school. After that, kids are on their own. I'm not sure what happens to children between the June of Grade 8 and the September of Grade 9, but apparently they get some kind of instruction with respect to preventing allergic reactions. Beats me who gives it to them.
    Our local elementary school has decided to become hyper-vigilant, however. All nut products of any kind are now banned, as are sunflower seeds and other various kinds of food suitable for birds and/or squirrels.
    Also, the school is banning bake sales. At first I thought this was because of some liability issue dreamed up by government lawyers. Kid brings 'bad' food to school, dozens die, school board is sued for millions and so on.
    But no.
    Bake sales make children fat. That's the logic. Never mind that bake sales at my younger son's school have always been a small part of a much larger multi-ethnic evening of homemade food representing many different countries and cultures. Those are out, too, illustrating that 'throwing the baby out with the bathwater' really isn't an antiquated saying.
    The problem here is that this multi-cultural evening of food (and yes, a *gasp* bake sale) was a fundraising project used to offset the three-day trip Grade 8 students take during their last month of elementary school. Last year, for example, my daughter went to Montreal. She had a great time, and it was a nice way for her to spend time with people she wasn't going to see again, since different kids go to different schools, people move, and so on.
    Fortunately, this is an easy thing to fix.
    The Grade 8 trip is cancelled.
    Instead, kids will be taken on a couple of day trips to local attractions like the zoo. (What will actually happen: With their parents' permission, they'll stay home and watch TV.)
    Yippee.
    And then there are things that are just....there. Aggravating things with no purpose whatsoever.
    My youngest son is now in Grade 1. His class is near the back of the school. At lunch yesterday, I waited for him by the door near his class. (I'm smart like that.) After several minutes I ventured about fifteen feet inside the school and saw his teacher, who informed me that at lunch he would be leaving by the door at the front of the school, near the Office.
    OK. Whatever.
    The school day ends and I'm waiting at the door near the Office. The Secretary -- who knows me by sight -- asks what I'm doing there, and I explain that this is where my son came out at lunchtime.
    You can probably figure out where this is going.
    At lunch he must leave the school by the door near the Office, where there are no parents and no supervision of any kind. Meanwhile, on the other side of the school there's usually a group of 10-20 parents of kindergarten kids -- most of whom know my son -- and, once the bell goes, there's a teacher there to make sure the kids don't play games like 'New Kid Eats Asphalt' and other sadistic favorites.
    However....
    After school he must leave by the door nearest his class, where there are very few parents and no supervision of any kind. The teachers who haven't jumped in their cars and sped off are helping children get onto the buses, which park near the door by....that's right....the goddamn Office.
    And so I rub my temples and await the next annoyance, knowing that it's probably not too far away.
  19. Ashoka the Great
    OK, so I've mentioned before that I'm an admin on a Raven Shield server. In all the time I've been doing this, only once have I taken a screencap of mid-game conversations.

    To this day I still have no idea how this is possible.
  20. Ashoka the Great
    First, I would just like to say that I hate all of you. I hope you and your alliance die in a lake of fire that I personally ignite and that is only quenched by your incessant tears. That's right. I'm talking about you.
    That felt pretty good.
    You see, the best thing about retirement is that one is free to say whatever the hell one wants while always being able to fall back on the "My opinion - not my alliance's" defense. The worst thing about retirement happens when someone notices this and says, "Hmmm....how are we going to rein this guy in a little?"
    In RL, the easiest way to turn a radical into a conservative (or a loudmouth into a conciliator) is to put him in charge of something. Now....in CN terms, what would be the simplest, most effective way to ensure that a similar individual plays nice with everybody else?
    While you're mulling that over, I suppose I should mention that, effective immediately, my opinion does in fact represent the government of Nordreich, and I must therefore re-learn how to bite my tongue.
    Now, if some lovely, young, shapely CNer would like to bite my tongue for me -- you know, to get me started -- then that would be....what? I have to tone that down, too? Oh, c'mon!



  22. Ashoka the Great
    Thinking about Admin's current Facebook-related competition....
    First, I deleted my Facebook account a while back, but I'm not going to whinge that it's somehow unfair. As publicity moves go, it's not a bad idea and I support it.
    However, I feel the need to say this:

    If, in a few weeks' time there appears a CN alliance called 'Farmville'*, I want it killed.


    ------
    * - Or named after any other FB game my wife kicks me off the computer for.
  23. Ashoka the Great
    So, tonight was one of those rare nights when the missus and I actually went out without children in tow. We went to a movie (Fright Night -- don't bother) and then off to a local pub for some karaoke.
    When we got to the pub, the karaoke host seemed rather excited by our arrival. He rushed over and told us that, as per our request, he had recently acquired several Jonathan Coulton songs. And so of course that's what we sang.
    At one point while the missus was off visiting with friends, the largest, most muscular, most shaved-headed (is that a word? well it is now) guy in the place walked up to me. You know the type. Six-foot-five, white t-shirt that seems to be three sizes too small, biceps the size of most folks' thighs....
    Anyway, he said he really enjoyed my song, and followed that up with the words that normally send ice flowing through many a man's veins....
    "Y'know, I'm not gay but...."
    Now, not being the sort to experience the 'chill', I responded with a paraphrase from Stripes.
    "But willing to learn, right?" I asked.
    Well, as it turned out, he was there with his wife and daughter, and his daughter said she wouldn't sing unless he walked over and gave 'that guy in the Hawaiian shirt' a kiss on the cheek. So of course I responded as any red-blooded man would:
    "Plant one on me, buster."
    A few minutes later, a beer arrived at my table. It was from him. I blew him a kiss and winked. I thought he was going to dissolve into a puddle. It was quite funny.
    So there was my good deed for the night.
    It reminded me, though, of the night a few weeks ack when my 18-year-old daughter was visiting from Vancouver. Making sure that it was OK in advance -- there are rules in Ontario about the circumstances under which an underaged person can be in a bar -- we took her to the same pub.
    She didn't sing, but I decided to make her night memorable by singing Adam Sandler's '
    '. (For the record....yes, I can actually carry a tune.)She looked like she wanted to die. Mission accomplished.
    Or, as I said to her later, "Hey, it's not like I'll have to pay for your therapist."
    Her retort? "Well, at least you didn't dedicate to me."
    (I need to try harder. The kids aren't fazed by me anymore....)
    Anyway, tonight I sang
    and . And thus I managed to re-confirm what all of my kids (ages 6-21) say: "You're not like my friends' dads."They say it like they're mortified, but every now and then one of them will add in a mumbled "Thank God."
  24. Ashoka the Great

    Reality Blows

    By Ashoka the Great,

    I play another online game rather a lot. On that game, I'm a server admin.
    Tonight, one of my fellow admins confided in me that he had 'taken a fit' the other day. He went to the hospital, where they found three tumors in his brain.
    The punchline?
    These were actually secondary tumors. He actually has lung cancer.
    Like me, he's forty-four years old. Unlike me, he has never smoked. (I quit a year ago, and think about it damn near every day. God, I miss it.)
    So we talked on TeamSpeak....for about an hour or so. And then another player joined the TS server so we had to make small talk about other things.
    I just sent him a PM. It's not all that relevant to CN. In fact, it isn't relevant at all to the typical CN demographic, but if only to give you a sense of the guy behind the walrus exterior....
    Life blows, kids. But that's no reason to take it for granted.
    Oh, and btw....the image in my sig on this particular game forum:



  25. Ashoka the Great

    My New Avatar

    By Ashoka the Great,

    I am currently at war with a rogue who decided to hit Nordreich on his way out of CN. This individual didn't plan very well. He had plenty of nukes but not enough cash to sustain him beyond one round. By the time said round ended, he had dropped into my lowly range. He hasn't paid his bills in days and, if he were to collect, still wouldn't be able to pay them. Bill-lock after one round of war? How very embarrassing.
    This has gotten me thinking about rogues in general. On one level, rogues are simply those dozens (hundreds?) of individuals who have made CN a little bit more entertaining during the long dry spells between major conflicts. Not every rogue is a 'Frans Josef' -- my personal favorite -- but they do at least manage to give some of us a reason to log in each day.
    I have had six nations thus far, and the closest I've come to being a rogue was during the Vox movement, when I was elected a Senator on the Red Team. Having had a taste of being a troublemaker for the sake of causing trouble, I must say I liked it. It was fun. And, for those who didn't take their nations so seriously that they sent me wailing PMs of despair, it was fun as well.
    So perhaps there's a little bit of a rogue in all of us. Perhaps all of us wish from time to time that we could break something simply for the sake of breaking something.
    Therefore, as a tribute to the inner rogue who lurks within all our hearts, I'll be sporting a "NoR-ized" version of a certain banned member's original CN avatar for the next few days.
    While I've had my own run-ins with this individual over the years, I must admit that on some level he symbolizes all the things that many of us wish we could do. We may be held back by our own sense of right and wrong, our own obedience to the (game's) rules, or perhaps our allegiance to a group of people. Nevertheless, in our darkest moments I think all of us wish we could just be troublemakers for the sake of causing trouble.
×
×
  • Create New...