The Extremist
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
The best little sci-fi series that was
I actually wrote this this morning (around 0033) but figured I'd publish it when I got to campus. The Internet is faster there. Dial-up sucks. I was waiting for my simulation to finish and felt like writing. Haven't felt like writing in quite some time. The sudden urge could have something to do with my new diNovo notebook-style keyboard.
Inbetween trying to work yesterday I finished the last episode of Firefly, a sci-fi television series on DVD. Probably the best sci-fi I've ever watched or read. I'm not a great connoiseur but I have read Asimov and a little Orson Scott Card. I've watched Stargate (pretty much all of it).
Before watching the last episode I went on Wikipedia to discover why the series was cancelled. I suppose I could understand people's reservation to watch it. A space western? With horses and hats and six-shooter style guns? LAME. But then you watch it and realise that Joss Whedon and his team of writers were amazing. They stayed true to their characters and the show was always about the characters and not the plot.
Another of Google's little toys, (Google) Web Comments pointed me towards the strangest blog which, in turn, pointed me to this strange little piece of fanfiction. I can't quite fathom whether it was intended to be a joke or if the author just wrote it because s/he could. I've only read the first 8 chapters (of 30+, a daunting electronic read by any standard) and it promises to be... odd... Not badly written but just as critics called the science fiction premise Firefly was based on a bastardisation for the sake of being different, I'm wondering if this story doesn't take it one too far.
I'm going to read it until it gets bad or becomes boring. Join me.
Inbetween trying to work yesterday I finished the last episode of Firefly, a sci-fi television series on DVD. Probably the best sci-fi I've ever watched or read. I'm not a great connoiseur but I have read Asimov and a little Orson Scott Card. I've watched Stargate (pretty much all of it).
Before watching the last episode I went on Wikipedia to discover why the series was cancelled. I suppose I could understand people's reservation to watch it. A space western? With horses and hats and six-shooter style guns? LAME. But then you watch it and realise that Joss Whedon and his team of writers were amazing. They stayed true to their characters and the show was always about the characters and not the plot.
Another of Google's little toys, (Google) Web Comments pointed me towards the strangest blog which, in turn, pointed me to this strange little piece of fanfiction. I can't quite fathom whether it was intended to be a joke or if the author just wrote it because s/he could. I've only read the first 8 chapters (of 30+, a daunting electronic read by any standard) and it promises to be... odd... Not badly written but just as critics called the science fiction premise Firefly was based on a bastardisation for the sake of being different, I'm wondering if this story doesn't take it one too far.
I'm going to read it until it gets bad or becomes boring. Join me.
Labels: fanfiction, Firefly
Monday, November 13, 2006
The midnight oil
I hate working late, through the night.
But I can't work in the heat of the day and I prefer not working around people. Which means I do best once everyone's gone to bed. If I were inclined to lawering I would call this a conflict of interests.
Today (yes, its today already, a few minutes ago it was still yesterday) I'm doing my big demo. Then its all over. I'll either have my engineering degree or I won't. I'll still have to hand in a CD with a whole bunch of technical documentation on it but I doubt it will be graded. And then my study leader wants me to do a research paper with him.
So the work doesn't end but it feels over, so I don't want to continue working. Another one of those conflicty-thingies.
Well, I'm going to grab some more oil to grease this midnight up with.
But I can't work in the heat of the day and I prefer not working around people. Which means I do best once everyone's gone to bed. If I were inclined to lawering I would call this a conflict of interests.
Today (yes, its today already, a few minutes ago it was still yesterday) I'm doing my big demo. Then its all over. I'll either have my engineering degree or I won't. I'll still have to hand in a CD with a whole bunch of technical documentation on it but I doubt it will be graded. And then my study leader wants me to do a research paper with him.
So the work doesn't end but it feels over, so I don't want to continue working. Another one of those conflicty-thingies.
Well, I'm going to grab some more oil to grease this midnight up with.
Labels: overtime
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Eventually, Big Brother sees all
So I upgraded to Blogger Beta this morning (not without much objection from my lightning quick dial-up connection). In the conversion procedure there is mention of an updated Google Terms of Service. For the first time in a long while I actually decided to read one of these and found this:
I'm not really a great fan of conspiracy theories, but any statement like this one is enough to get any thinking person worried. From my (presumably naive) perception of the world I'd say that this clause isn't that big a deal. It just releases Google to give the proper authoroties the information they may need to prosecute criminals or prevent crimes. But what if those proper authorities have agendas other than the great ideals of justice and righteousness.
Those authorities can then use a warrant or subpoena to force Google to give up information about someone for their own purposes.
And the way things are going, Google will eventually know everything about you. They'll have your mail (and chats), your personal thoughts, your schedule (besides your personal particulars if you were actually truthful when you first acquired your Google account). They might even have some of your financial information (though Big Brother could presumably get that from a proper institution like the revenue service) if you used Google Spreadsheets for your budget.
Then they might also have your notebook and some web pages you may have made (though that's not so bad since web pages are intended to be published anyway).
Oh well, I'll just use Googles stuff while the good times roll :-)
You agree that Google may access or disclose your personal information, including the content of your communications, if Google is required to do so in order to comply with any valid legal process or governmental request (such as a search warrant, subpoena, statute, or court order), or as otherwise provided in these Terms of Service and the general Google Privacy Policy. Personal information collected by Google may be stored and processed in the United States or any other country in which Google Inc. or its agents maintain facilities. By using the Service, you consent to any such transfer of information outside of your country.
I'm not really a great fan of conspiracy theories, but any statement like this one is enough to get any thinking person worried. From my (presumably naive) perception of the world I'd say that this clause isn't that big a deal. It just releases Google to give the proper authoroties the information they may need to prosecute criminals or prevent crimes. But what if those proper authorities have agendas other than the great ideals of justice and righteousness.
Those authorities can then use a warrant or subpoena to force Google to give up information about someone for their own purposes.
And the way things are going, Google will eventually know everything about you. They'll have your mail (and chats), your personal thoughts, your schedule (besides your personal particulars if you were actually truthful when you first acquired your Google account). They might even have some of your financial information (though Big Brother could presumably get that from a proper institution like the revenue service) if you used Google Spreadsheets for your budget.
Then they might also have your notebook and some web pages you may have made (though that's not so bad since web pages are intended to be published anyway).
Oh well, I'll just use Googles stuff while the good times roll :-)
Labels: Orwellian, The Establishment
Friday, August 18, 2006
Nostalgia
I had promised myself that my blog would never come to this. It's not that I have nothing to write about, there's more than enough happening in the world and in my life, this just happens to be the most powerful. (I saw Crash for the first time last night, that was pretty powerful as well)
I went through the book I got all the guests at my 21st birthday to sign. You know the type. I'm not really one for such frilly stuff, but for my 21st I pulled out all stops: Posed for photos, sent around a guest book, everything ;-)
Anyway, it just got me wondering about the people that were once so important to me. People I would take the time to SMS, to call. It's not that I didn't have other things to do, I *made* time. It just seems as if things have changed, somehow. The amount of people that are now important to me have grown fewer. Not that the people who are at this party aren't still important to me, but they're obviously not important enough for me to make the effort to contact them anymore and I'm obviously not important enough to be contacted (so I don't feel too guilty about it -- I'm not the only one who's priorities have changed :-D).
I was just wondering out loud (or in 12pt monospace text in this case), as I was hoping that writing this down (and yes, I could have done it in a private text file, or in a journal, I don't know what brought me to blog it) would help me remember what I felt tonight.
A phone call once a week or once a month is maybe not what's required, but perhaps a call every time a wave of nostalgia hits me would be good. Maybe it'll remind us all about how good the good times were and how awesome it was to be as close as we were. And maybe some of my old friends will like knowing that we can still be friends even if we don't see one another or speak to one another nearly as often as we used to.
And maybe I'm just clinging to the past... Only after a few phone calls will I know if all this was worth it.
I went through the book I got all the guests at my 21st birthday to sign. You know the type. I'm not really one for such frilly stuff, but for my 21st I pulled out all stops: Posed for photos, sent around a guest book, everything ;-)
Anyway, it just got me wondering about the people that were once so important to me. People I would take the time to SMS, to call. It's not that I didn't have other things to do, I *made* time. It just seems as if things have changed, somehow. The amount of people that are now important to me have grown fewer. Not that the people who are at this party aren't still important to me, but they're obviously not important enough for me to make the effort to contact them anymore and I'm obviously not important enough to be contacted (so I don't feel too guilty about it -- I'm not the only one who's priorities have changed :-D).
I was just wondering out loud (or in 12pt monospace text in this case), as I was hoping that writing this down (and yes, I could have done it in a private text file, or in a journal, I don't know what brought me to blog it) would help me remember what I felt tonight.
A phone call once a week or once a month is maybe not what's required, but perhaps a call every time a wave of nostalgia hits me would be good. Maybe it'll remind us all about how good the good times were and how awesome it was to be as close as we were. And maybe some of my old friends will like knowing that we can still be friends even if we don't see one another or speak to one another nearly as often as we used to.
And maybe I'm just clinging to the past... Only after a few phone calls will I know if all this was worth it.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
A time to kill...
A local newspaper, Beeld, ran an article today about the rape of a Belgian exchange student at a street party in Soweto on 13 August 2005. The article is available in English and Afrikaans.
Besides wondering what the hell a FOREIGN (hence exotic) beautiful white, blonde girl was doing at a street party in a township where many locals dare not tread, the article evoked a number of angry responses in me.
Two of the rapists (or more legally-correct 'defendants') pretend to be all helpful, showing her to a bathroom. Once she's finished, they grab her as she comes out and drag her to a house, where she begs and pleads with them to just take her valuables. And when she tries to discourage them from forcing themselves on her by explaining that she's a virgin, they only seemed to get more excited.
For those who don't know, I'm Christian, and the desire to see these four men dead (nay -- to execute them myself) is a powerful one. I can hear some of the more 'rational' of you out there right now: How can I be so brazen when these men have not been found guilty yet? The media often paint things to look a certain way -- we all know that.
Quite simply, I find it highly unlikely that a foreign exchange student will have consensual sex with a man she meets at a township street party. I find it even more unlikely that she'll do so with at least four other men in the room. And lastly, the police walked in during the third rape, quite literally, catching one of the men with his pants down (with the other 4 watching). And when the cops arrived, two of the men ran away. Not guilty? Try another one.
Then, just to ice the cake (pardon the clichés), this happened on 13 August 2005 and the trial continues TOMORROW (2 June 2006).
What could POSSIBLY be taking so long? They have police eye-witnesses, all the suspects in custody... Put these punks away so that THEY can get gang-raped in a nice, cozy, overfull prison cell.
Perhaps one day, God'll bring me to a place where I have the mercy in me to pray for these men's souls and for his peace and Love on the victim, but right now, I'd like for nothing more than to torture these men publicly...
Besides wondering what the hell a FOREIGN (hence exotic) beautiful white, blonde girl was doing at a street party in a township where many locals dare not tread, the article evoked a number of angry responses in me.
Two of the rapists (or more legally-correct 'defendants') pretend to be all helpful, showing her to a bathroom. Once she's finished, they grab her as she comes out and drag her to a house, where she begs and pleads with them to just take her valuables. And when she tries to discourage them from forcing themselves on her by explaining that she's a virgin, they only seemed to get more excited.
For those who don't know, I'm Christian, and the desire to see these four men dead (nay -- to execute them myself) is a powerful one. I can hear some of the more 'rational' of you out there right now: How can I be so brazen when these men have not been found guilty yet? The media often paint things to look a certain way -- we all know that.
Quite simply, I find it highly unlikely that a foreign exchange student will have consensual sex with a man she meets at a township street party. I find it even more unlikely that she'll do so with at least four other men in the room. And lastly, the police walked in during the third rape, quite literally, catching one of the men with his pants down (with the other 4 watching). And when the cops arrived, two of the men ran away. Not guilty? Try another one.
Then, just to ice the cake (pardon the clichés), this happened on 13 August 2005 and the trial continues TOMORROW (2 June 2006).
What could POSSIBLY be taking so long? They have police eye-witnesses, all the suspects in custody... Put these punks away so that THEY can get gang-raped in a nice, cozy, overfull prison cell.
Perhaps one day, God'll bring me to a place where I have the mercy in me to pray for these men's souls and for his peace and Love on the victim, but right now, I'd like for nothing more than to torture these men publicly...
Friday, March 31, 2006
Confused Juice
I could almost not stand from laughter when I saw this in the store, so I naturally had to buy a box. It's thoroughly terrible juice, but it was a great story to tell everyone.
I could almost not stand from laughter when I saw this in the store, so I naturally had to buy a box. It's thoroughly terrible juice, but it was a great story to tell everyone.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Sorry... Not my problem.
Last week I listened to a lecture on moral responsibility in my ethics class (yes, I know it would seem that my last few entries have been about university, but this one just uses the lecture as a springboard. Promise...)
You see, they're trying to teach us all kinds of useful skills in ethics that we'll need when we become real-life engineers: when to say what to whom that you might escape blame (or that you may even be hailed as a hero), what's the least you can do and still get away with...
We were told of a case where a farmer built himself a dam, but unbeknownst to him, an old mine connected his dam to another man's land. When he filled his dam, the other man's land flooded, destroying whatever he had growing there. The courts (yes, they involved the bloody courts!) ruled that the man who built the dam was responsible for the damage, even though he had no way of knowing that there was an ancient connection between his land and the other man's.
I know I'm not the only human being on the planet who feels this way, but lately I've been wondering what's happened to people's sense of honour.
What did they need the courts for?
Whatever happened to: “Listen, I'm sorry man, I had no idea that the water could get to your land.”
“I understand, but listen: The crops I had planted there are ruined. Could you help me drain the land, plant new crops and maybe help me out with food til I can get back on my feet?”
“Yeah, sure.”
It's that bloody simple! But instead, it would seem, the modern translation to the last sentence is: “It's not my problem.”
Why is it that so many people nowadays need to be told what they are and are not responsible for? I can understand that the world will always have their one or two people that don't feel obligated to fix their own mistakes, but from where I'm sitting, the great majority of people need codes, documents, standards and authorities to tell them when they need to fix what they broke and when they're allowed to get away with it.
You see, they're trying to teach us all kinds of useful skills in ethics that we'll need when we become real-life engineers: when to say what to whom that you might escape blame (or that you may even be hailed as a hero), what's the least you can do and still get away with...
We were told of a case where a farmer built himself a dam, but unbeknownst to him, an old mine connected his dam to another man's land. When he filled his dam, the other man's land flooded, destroying whatever he had growing there. The courts (yes, they involved the bloody courts!) ruled that the man who built the dam was responsible for the damage, even though he had no way of knowing that there was an ancient connection between his land and the other man's.
I know I'm not the only human being on the planet who feels this way, but lately I've been wondering what's happened to people's sense of honour.
What did they need the courts for?
Whatever happened to: “Listen, I'm sorry man, I had no idea that the water could get to your land.”
“I understand, but listen: The crops I had planted there are ruined. Could you help me drain the land, plant new crops and maybe help me out with food til I can get back on my feet?”
“Yeah, sure.”
It's that bloody simple! But instead, it would seem, the modern translation to the last sentence is: “It's not my problem.”
Why is it that so many people nowadays need to be told what they are and are not responsible for? I can understand that the world will always have their one or two people that don't feel obligated to fix their own mistakes, but from where I'm sitting, the great majority of people need codes, documents, standards and authorities to tell them when they need to fix what they broke and when they're allowed to get away with it.
