More Bombs in Karachi

This was today’s entry in Jalal’s blog.

Oh God. All this violence. All these bombs. All these burnign tyres. All these riots. All these mobs. All these guns. All these janazas. All these things.

Too much. It is too much. It has got to stop. It has got to stop.

Please post any comments you may have on his blog.

Revenge of the Nerds

I have spent the last two hours wrestling with a horrific monster of nerdly proportions. Ô the horror! Ô the misery! Ô the suffering! I signed up for and downloaded free Movable Type. According to the personal blogging élite, Movable Type is the brie of blogs, whereas Blogger is merely spray cheese. If your online name is Surly Snob, this simply will not do; I won’t even eat mozzarella.

I have known HTML for a whole two months now and I’m satisfied with how my blog functions. I’ve learned to correct almost every mistake I’ve ever made and I’ve even managed to make up a few things without reducing the entire bazaar to a sputtering page of unclickable links and gibbering hyper-personal nonsense.

But now it occurs to me that those who deem Blogger like totally uncool are the same people who have posters of Xena plastering their bedroom walls and idolize Barbara Adams, Champion of Intergalactic Peace and Tolerance (who actually has a fan page…I am not making this up, you know). So that’s why I decided to spend a couple of hours swearing at my computer and stomping around the apartment like a baby allosaurus. If it ain’t broken, heap piles of steaming manure on it. That’s what I always say.

After staring at a directory of unzipped Movable files freshly downloaded into my computer for approximately five minutes, I realized I had absolutely no clue as to how to proceed. “I know! I’ll check the online instructions!” I thought to myself triumphantly. After staring at the online instructions for approximately five minutes, I realized I had absolutely no clue as to how to proceed. I felt exactly like I’d felt after having read the following passage from Star Trek: The Next Generation: Technical Manual, a book my sister sent me as I joke (I hope). Keep in mind as you’re reading that the topic is something made up:

“A subspace field of one thousand millicochranes or greater becomes the familiar warp field. Field intensity for each warp factor increases geometrically and is a function of the total of the individual field layer values. Note that the cochrane value for a given warp factor corresponds to the apparent velocity of a spacecraft traveling at that warp factor. For example, a ship traveling at Warp Factor 3 is maintaining a warp field of at least 39 cochranes and is therefore traveling at 39 times c, the speed of light.”

Of course! I am nothing but an ignorant fool! But not so ignorant that I can’t search the entire unzipped Movable files for anything with the word “install”. There turned out to be several, but they all seemed to pertain to magical feats that only occur after installation. In vain I raced my pointer up and down the files, searching for something…anything!…that ended with “.exe”. Nothing was to be found.

So now the files have been removed from my computer. I hang my head in defeat. I could have been a glorious god; instead I will a mere mortal. Vanquished, I return to my dots and that weird orange color I can’t replace with anything…a broken blogger.

Maybe one day I will be like Frank, who I am not implying is a nerd, who designs his own sites and could kick Movable Type’s ass, and who on his blog gives you a choice of three styles in which to view his wackiness, manic, arctic teacup, and feline. Maybe one day I’ll turn like Jean-Luc Picard to my computer crew and say, “Make it so.” And it will be so.

[Disclaimer: Voyager and Enterprise are two of my favourite TV shows. What's more, I think Captain Janeway and 7 of 9 would be pretty cool to have a few beers with, if they were real people, which they aren't. Moreover, I would enjoy multiple sexual encounters with most of the male cast of Enterprise, and maybe even with T'Pol...or with 7, for that matter. No nerds were harmed in the writing of this bloggie, although I certainly wanted to harm a few.]

Alien Nation

can’t blog…on vacation

Limbo Bimbo

The Dante’s Inferno Test has sent you to the First Level of Hell – Limbo!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 – Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Very High
Level 2 (Lustful)	Low
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Low
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Low
Level 6 – The City of Dis (Heretics)	High
Level 7 (Violent)	Low
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Low
Level 9 – Cocytus (Treacherous)	Moderate

Take the Dante’s Inferno Test

Click on the levels for a complete explanation.
Limbo?! I get boring, beige limbo? I thought I’d get some serious retribution for lust, homosexuality, or surliness (although I have to admit that spending eternity with Caesar, Homer, Virgil, Socrates, and Aristotle doesn’t sound like such a raw deal). I guess being Jewish makes me a “virtuous nonbeliever”. I must be so much more boring than I think I am.

(Pillaged from Bluewyvern.)

Sexy Android Librarian

Joy! Thursday is Fake Librarian Day (Nancy can relate to me on this one)! Every Thursday I donate four hours of my valuable, blog-writing time to be an artificial librarian at Organization #1.

Here, I do various exciting things like compiling lists of overdue books. They never let me make the threatening phone calls, though. They really should. I don’t think they quite understand the vast and profound talent they have before them, nestled in my slight, demure frame. I used to have a job where one of my duties was to remind Fortune 500 companies that they hadn’t paid their invoices of thousands of dollars. Later, I had a job where I occasionally had to call up unionized hospital laboratories to remind them that I had not yet received scores of HIV and HepC test results for people my staff were due to council at any second. So I think I can remind a few people that their book is a week or two late.

My direct supervisor in my duties as fake librarian is the stereotypical soft-spoken, passive-aggressive, rigid librarian who is nevertheless quite sweet. She attempts to maintain order in the midst of chaos, succeeding where it comes to books and failing where it comes to people. For example, I was five minutes late two Thursdays in a row and her solution to this dastardly shortcoming was to ask me to document henceforth my days of tardiness. To this, I reminded her that I am a) in my thirties, b) giving of my own time and c) in my thirties. But I did it all in that smiley, winky way I’ve evolved over the years to mask that urge to bury the offending parties up to their nose in sand. She’s too gentle for such violence. I just mocked her light-heartedly until she relented and giggled, wagging her finger at me and telling me “to be more conscientious”. Which I will do. I promise. Today I will only be four minutes late.

This is just one of the many guises Snobby takes on in his joint volunteering duties at Organizations #1 and #2. In all, I do about 25 hours of free service a week. It is the perfect job for me after years of high-stress employment that has completely burned me out (hence the blog). There’s a relaxed pace, friendly atmosphere, and that feeling of completing a task for the forces of good rather than for the forces of evil. A salary would be nice too, but if I volunteer long enough I’ll have an in. It’s not all about altruism, I admit.

In two weeks I begin training at Organization #1 for something I am greatly looking forward to. I will be a “buddy” to an HIV+ man. It’s a programme to help counteract the sense of social isolation experienced by the majority of HIV+ people. If I’m feeling especially pedantic one day, I’ll write a bloggie on this topic. In any case, I have been a buddy for friends before. But they were friends so it was a little different. I’m looking forward to being able to use this experience for the good of the general public. I encourage you all to volunteer somewhere.

I keep my promise to the sweet, rigid librarian. I guzzle the rest of my coffee and go.

Some Guys Have All the Luck

US movie actor discovers he is an Afghan prince

And one of my ancestors traveled to Tahiti so I am the Prince of a small Polynesian island.

This Afternoon! (maybe)

The terrifying tale of Snobbusnarf and the Two-Headed Homophogre!

Featuring:

Snobbusnarf Lyserøde Skjeggen the Wise

Egjey the Magnificent

Kaallinn the Beauteous

Do you dare test your nerves in this shocking tale of horror?

Troy

“Troy” in fifteen minutes

Very, very accurate.

(via Radmila)

Snobbusnarf and the Two-Headed Homophogre

[Disclaimer: although The Guy Who Writes This Cr@p is usually quite happy to live in the Land of Heteronia, he is at times pushed to satire when he perceives once too often, in his presence, on another blog, or nestled in the comments of another blog, the word "gay" and its various synonyms used interchangeably with "bad" and its various synonyms. However, the fact remains that some of The Guy Who Writes The Crap's best friends are straight.]

One day Snobbusnarf Lyserøde Skjeggen was hunting pink elephants in the woods with his friends Egjey the Magnificent and Kaallinn the Beauteous. As the three slunk silently through the trees they heard the sound of swearing coming from a nearby clearing. The heroes strode towards the noise.

The swearing became louder as the entered the clearing. In the middle of it were two lesbians. One, with eyes of blue, hair of blond, and cheeks of rosy sat on a boulder, staring despondently at a patch of wild flowers. The other, with longer dark hair was wearing a red t-shirt with the words “Dar Williams is Goddess” written across it in Celtic-looking letters. This was the one who was swearing.

“#&%#@!” she spat.

“Greetings, yon lesbian,” Snobbusnarf Lyserøde Skjeggen said as he strode towards her.

“What the fuck do you want?” She turned towards him violently.

“I want only to heal the ills that ail you.”

“Great! I’m going to be “rescued” by an over-the-hill boy band.” She turned back to survey a large square of smashed plants, littered with empty beer bottles and potato chip bags. “Where’s your fourth member? You know: the blond jailbait who turned into a sleazy alcoholic once he turned eighteen?”

“Now, Monique,” spoke up the one with hair the colour of honey. “These three fags are just trying to be nice.”

“Yes, Elizabeth” said the first, somewhat contritely.

The second rose from her perch on the rock. “She’s just upset because a two-headed homophogre destroyed our hemp field. This is our livelihood. Now what will do on market day in the village? What wares will we trade for the organically processed tofu that sustains us?”

This time it was Ajay the Magnificent who spoke. “This is indeed a sad state of affairs.” He shook his head gravely. “But fear not, my all-natural friends, for I am Egjey the Magnificent, strongest man in all the land. With my great power I will crush the foes who have wrought this ruin upon your heads!”

“And I am Snobbusnarf Lyserøde Skjeggen, the wisest man in all the land. I will taunt and confuse this vile fiend until it knows no more!”

“And I am Kaallinn the Beauteous,” he stepped forth as a sudden breeze ruffled his hair in an appealing fashion. “I am the most beautiful man in all the land!”

The two lesbians waited for him to reveal the horrible fate he would bestow upon the demon. They noted that Snobbusnarf simply rolled his eyes and Egjey shook his head and they knew that nothing more would be forthcoming from his pouting lips.

“Well, we should be fine. I think we have enough to last us until we can grow more,” said the Dar Williams-clad lesbian, brightening slightly. “Plus there was that loser who left us that bag of magic beans. We can see what they do.”

“But we’ll be ruined if the two-headed homophogre comes back!”

“Never fear!” exclaimed Snobbusnarf. “We will vanquish the foe!”

And the three companions strode off along the path of destruction and blatant littering left by the monster. As they moved along they could hear in the distance a lone voice shouting after them: “We don’t need men to save us! We’d do it ourselves but we have Briggita’s Tea Goddess ceremony this afternoon!”

The forest grew dark around our friends as they moved farther and further into it. The more they progressed, the less they heard the tweeting of pretty, little birds. The undergrowth became rife with evil. The stench of wickedness lay heavy in the palpitating air. They caught a whiff of malice.

“Bleah!” exclaimed Egjey. “Somebody really let loose a pungent one!”

Kaallinn wrinkled his nose. “And somebody is wearing really cheap perfume!”

They walked further in the gathering gloom. Leaves were ripped off trees. Tree trunks had been urinated upon. Cigarette butts littered the narrow pathway. An empty Yoo-hoo can lay upon a rock next to the path, the remains of its former contents dribbling slowly to the fort floor.

Snobbusnarf halted. “Harken, my friends. We draw close. The fiend is nigh.”

And it was true. Shortly they drew close to a small stream. It no longer babbled. It seemed to whimper in unspoken terror. Beside it lay the most repulsive creature any of the three had seen, and being gay men they had seen a number of repulsive creatures in the dark. Even Egjey stepped back in disgust.

Its body was thick and swathed in a purple hoody with a Viking maiden wearing a fur bikini sprawling across the words “Ice Ice Baby”. Its arms were thick as legs, its legs as muscular as torsos. But the most repulsive part was its heads. Two ugly heads lolled somnolently on two indolent necks.

The first head was a man’s. It had a poorly trimmed goatee and a black baseball hat with a sports logo emblazoned across its front. A small greenish stream slithered from his nose.

The second head was a woman’s. It lay pristinely on a pile of moss, it’s red hair perfect and unmussed, its golden earrings clinked lightly in the wind. A slight whistling nose escaped from its nose as it breathed in and out.

“That’s not real gold!” Kaallinn whispered sharply in disgust, a little too loudly.

The creature stirred and woke at the harsh condemnation of its fashion sensibility. It rose unsteadily. “What the fuck?” uttered the male head intelligently.

Egjey immediately sprang forward and faced the repugnant fiend, his powerful muscles flexed in anticipation.

The female head took on a look of shocked wonder. “Oh…My…Gawd!” it shrieked. “It’s a ho-mo-seskshwel!”

“Prepare too meet your doom, foul fiend of the Otherworld!” he shouted bravely. “For I am Egjey the Magnificent and I will grind your bones to powder and feed them to the dung beetles!”

“No, brave Egjey!” interrupted Snobbusnarf bossily. “You mustn’t kill it! It is just a poor, dumb beast that knows not what it does! Come, fair friend, use your brave brawn for compassion instead for senseless slaughter. Build the creature a Peel Pub in which it may while away the hours in pleasant, timeless abandon”. He smiled benevolently upon the piteous thing as it scratched its backside, the female head berating the male for this impolite action.

Egjey graciously acquiesced to his friend’s wish and went off in search of the tackiest wood he could find.

“You, gorgeous Kaallinn. Distract the brute with all the charm and beauty you can muster while I sit upon yon hillock to think what to do next by means of my awesome sagaciousness.”

Kaallinn picked up an empty beer bottle and sauntered to a tree near to the creature. He stared resolutely over one of the beast’s shoulders. He then pretended to take a sip from the bottle, glancing briefly at the creature, which took no notice of him. He then began to bob his head rhythmically to an imagined beat, glancing over occasionally at the still oblivious creature. He then ambled to another tree where he removed his cell phone from his pocket and began to talk on it in an animated manner, glancing over at the creature who now looked back at him, seemingly bewildered by the rapid language streaming for betwixt his pouty lips. He abruptly ended his call and stared steadfastedly away from the creature.

Snobbusnarf observed this with bewilderment and quickly called to his handsome friend to ask him what manner of distraction this was meant to be.

“What manner of distraction is this meant to be?” he asked his handsome friend.

“I’m getting its attention! This always works for me.”

“This is not a bar, o dizzy one! Attempt to engage the beast in conversation.”

Kaallinn let forth a heavy sigh and strode forward. “Well, hello there! My name is Kaallinn and I am very pleased to meet you!”

The male head spoke first. “Dude, are you like supposed to be gay or something?”

Kaallinn rolled his eyes.

Meanwhile, Egjey had returned with several stacks of wood and commenced erecting a large rectangular structure with no character whatsoever. He chuckled with humour to himself as he listened to the creature babble.

“I mean, I was like watching the game the other day and the ref was like making all these really gay calls n’stuff. I mean I felt like totally screwed up the ass! I mean like what a cocksucker!”

The female head nodded vigorously and spoke up. “Like why did you choose to be gay in the first place? Is it because you like to cook? You faggots are just afraid of women. That’s what your problem is. You just need the right woman to show you. Honey, I’d straighten those wrists of yours…and something else as well…” She smiled lasciviously.

Kaallinn stood before them and wished that at least one of the beer bottles around him were full of beer, even warm flat beer.

No sooner had the male head finished a long speech in which he denied any trace of homophobia, using as proof the fact that he once worked with a guy who was gay and he was OK except for when he talked about his boyfriend which like totally creeped out the male head, when Egjey finished the Peel Pub. Snobbusnarf then arose from his perch on yon hillock and touched the tips of his fingers lightly to his temples. A warm glow emerged from his head and surrounded the building.

Anon, a young woman with a painted face and bosom larger than her head appeared at the Peel Pub door. “Well, hello there! My name is Candi-with-an-I and the Peel Pub is open for business! Come on in! We have two-for-one pitchers of Nondescript American Lite Beer, all-you-can-eat jalapeno pepper poppers, and all the reruns of “Home Improvement” and “Everybody Loves Raymond” you can watch!”

“Oooooooo!” gasped both heads together. The creature shambled towards the door. Once it was inside, the door shut…forever.

“Well, that wasn’t a very good story at all,” spat Kaallinn the Beauteous.

“I know,” said Snobbusnarf Lyserøde Skjeggen. “All that build-up for nothing.”

“And I didn’t even get to rip my shirt off and show off my incredible pecs and washboard stomach,” sighed Egjey the Magnificent.

“Maybe our next adventure will have some sort of literary value,” responded Snobbusnarf.

Suddenly the forest around them was filled with a blinding light. Our friends covered their eyes for they had been almost blinded by the blinding light filling the forest around them.

A cold voice filled their ears. “On your knees before me, weak creatures!”

Snobbusnarf gasped in shock. “Forsooth! It is Hjördís the Petulant

“It is indeed I! Bow down before the Ice Queen!”

Will our heroes survive? Tune in for the next installment of the “The Harem of Snobbusnarf Lyserøde Skjeggen”!