(Scene: a guy walks in to a bar. The barman begins...)

What's going on?
One bourbon, one scotch, one beer.
Heartache tonight?
I want to know what love is.
What is love?
Roundabout.
Let it be.
Help!
... Legs.
Legs?
"What is love?"
That ain't love!
I missed again.
I would do anything for love...
Fat bottomed girls?
...With a little help from my friends. Who's that lady?
Lola.
Hell on high heels!
Whole lotta love.
Lets get it on.
What's your name?
Mean Mr. Mustard.
What? A fool believes?
I got a name.
Gimme your money please.
Money?
Takin' care of business.
Just what I needed!
Bye bye, love.
Money for nothing.
Take it easy.
Goodbye stranger.
Come Monday.
I drink alone...

(This conversation was fun to write. I hope you all caught on to what was special about it. Bonus points if you can name the source of each, ahh, line of the conversation.)

Web is short for World Wide Web

Blog is short for Web Log

Vlog is short for Video Blog

I'm looking forward to the day when entire sentences can be reduced to a single word.
...Oh, wait.

SAVE LIVES, SLOW DOWN

I saw this sign above a flower arrangement on the side of the road near a crosswalk today. My knee-jerk reaction was, "that's sensible". However, the more I thought about it, the more bizarre it seemed.

There is no doubt driving slowly is safer for pedestrians. This is why people seldom push five miles-per-hour in a parking lot or school zone (clarification: other people). However, maintaining such speeds on regular roads is infeasible. Even 20 mph would cause some significant damage to a person if hit by a 2000 kilogram chunk of plastic and metal.

What they should recommend is not travelling at the speed that hit the person, or within a certain range near that speed. Think about it: If the person was hit by a car going 45 mph, then the sign should say SAVE LIVES, DRIVE OVER 55 OR UNDER 35. If the car was travelling at 55 mph, then it would've passed the person before he or she entered the crosswalk. If it was travelling at 35, the person would've crossed before the car reached the crosswalk.

They also shouldn't post such profound signs. I lost track of how many pedestrians I ran over while thinking about this.

I am a boring Xangan

I avoid controversy and conspiracy

I never request comments or rec's

I don't have kids or a significant other to post about

I don't have a mental, sexual, or eating disorder

I never threaten to kill myself or hurt myself

I don't use over-sexualized profile photos

I never write about Xanga (except this once)

I never make posts consisting only of pictures I found on the Internet

I generally avoid swearing and harsh language

I never use flashy font colors or effects

I never seek Xanga's frontpage

I almost never mention other Xangans

I never write or read poetry

I never ask questions at the end of my posts

Do I?

Arr, gather round me hearties. While there be no ships in sight fer plunderin', I thought I would talk a spell about th' Good Book. Oy! Get back here yeh sorry sods, or I be havin' yeh scourin' the decks with yer teeth. And don't be thinkin' it below me to throw th' ol' offal barrels all over jus' when yeh be thinkin' yeh be done.

Hmph, anyway, I actually read through the bloodline of that landlubber Jesus in Matthyeh and be finding it odder than Three-Fingered Ted's ramblin's that only five lasses be named. There be, o' course, Jesus's ol' mum, the virgin herself. Quit yer grinning, Matty. I got me own questions about tha' little claim, ha ha harr. Goin' a bit furth'r back, we be seeing Uriah's old wench, Bathshebeh. Now there be a fun tale teh be tellin' in th' quarterdeck. Th' right ol' king decides that he be fancyin' this lass and goes and gets 'er husband killed in a bloo'y battle. Truly a man after me own heart, am I right, me hearties? Next thar be Ruth, who went an' had an entire book claimed 'neath 'er flag. This scurvy-addled wench went an' married some relative o' her father-in-law. I dun' even wanna think about what that did to th' family tree.

Right there on the same line, thar be that fine harlot, Rahab. Now thar be a char'cter from The Book I be takin' a fancy t' seein'. Jus' thinkin' 'bout it makes me be wishin' t' get back t' Tortuga an' th' fine collection a' lasses o' th' night that be gatherin' round thar. Lastly be Tamar, who mi' jus' be as interestin' as Rahab. She ain't bein' no real harlot, she just acted like one to be getting' a kid and what have yeh. I don' quite understand why all these wenches have some need to be getting' together with their in-laws. I been married near six times, and hold no good tidin's to those sods. Granted, I don't really remember all o' me marriages, but maybe that be for the better.

Arr, anyway, quite the motley crew of wenches, if I be sayin' so me-self. One of 'em got shacked up with 'er husband's killa. Another dresses as a harlot (not too shabby a plan, am I right, lads?) jus' teh have a kid. The next actually be a full-blooded harlot. Another be havin' a genealogy with more twists and turns than what be comin' outta Dirk after a night'a grog. The las' one, I think, be basically coverin' up marital infidelity, which be always good for me, bu' bad for the husband.

Eh, anyway, it looks like Willy up in th' crow's nest be yellin' somethin'. I jus' thought it be interestin' t' think about. Now, get teh yer stations, yeh seadogs. We got us a sea t' conquer! A-ha-harrr~

I think my job is turning me into one of "those guys". Some of you might know what I mean. One of "those guys" that spend all day at work writing computer code, then going home only to do more coding. For example, I just spent the last few minutes writing a script that trawls an RSS feed for updates with a specific string every five minutes. Why? Well, I would tell you the truth, but I think it'd be more entertaining to let your imagination go wild. If you want it, the code is below (it's Python, by the way):

import urllib import sys import time from datetime import datetime url = sys.argv[1] thing = raw_input('What do you seek: ') lastDate = '' while True:   try: f = urllib.urlopen(url)   except (IOError): continue   body = f.read()   lines = body.split('n')   for line in lines:      if line.strip().startswith('<pubDate>'):          curDate = line.split('>')[1].split('<')[0]          if curDate == lastDate:             break          else:             if thing in body:                print "OMG! %s has been found!" % thing                sys.exit(1)             else:                print "There's an update, but it's probably nothing special"                lastDate = curDate                break   f.close()   print "%s -- %s" % (lastDate, str(datetime.now()))   time.sleep(300)

Less than a week remains to wait.

Why does time seem to slow when you're in a hurry?

I've had enough of this gay marriage debate. I say it's high time we go back to the traditional definition of marriage. No, I don't mean the lame one that gay marriage bashers carry like a banner: marriage = 1 man + 1 woman. I mean the real traditional definition:

Marriage = 1 man + n women : n = however many the man wants

That's how it was in the past, and that's how it should be now. The traditional ways are best, always. A woman is just property, after all. Physical beauty alone should also be a perfectly acceptable reason for marriage, unless political expediency is involved. Oh, and no age limits. Seven or eight is a perfect age for a girl to get married.

If that all seems to risqué, I ask: why should we even care about marriage at all? Didn't the great Paul-Saul-Muad'Dib write an entire chapter about how people should abstain from marriage altogether (1 Corinthians 7)? We should all, as a people, band together and obliterate marriage and allow only marriage to Jesus.

… Wait… I think I may want to rephrase that.

Good morning, everyone!
I hope everyone has a fun-filled and adventurous September 11th. I know I plan to.

... What? ...Oh, that thing? Geez, that happened nine bloody years ago. We can't go moping on about that all the time. I wonder how long it'll take before people stop caring. When did people stop caring about December 7th?

by Jimbo
Jimbo News Network - Religious Correspondent

A US church is causing shockwaves across the globe after its recent announcement of a book-burning ceremony wherein a pile of non-Christian religious texts will be lit ablaze late next week. The Church of the Multiplying Loaves and Fishes, located in a quiet suburb of Jimboville, was fed up with the religious persecution in the world and felt an old-fashioned book burning would send a clear message: don't mess with Christianity.

"We wanted to burn books in an unbiased way," said head pastor Jimbo. "We didn't want to look like a bunch of jerks." Pastor Jimbo explained how the initial plan was to burn just Qu'rans, but the congregation felt that that would seem too prejudiced. By burning an even spread of sacred texts, the church wanted to demonstrate that it didn't dislike Muslims specifically; they dislike all non-Christians.

Heads of various religions agree that the book-burning, while distasteful, has religious equality at its cornerstone. "While I am frustrated by their insistence to burn the Qu'ran, it does make me feel a little better that other non-Islamic texts are being put to the torch," says ibn Abihi, imam of al-Jimbo Mosque. Pastor Jimbo wanted to ensure that equality is very important to his congregation.

The list of texts is a lengthy one. There are expected to be many copies of the Qu'ran, the Bhagavd Gita, the Bardo Thodol, the Poetic Edda, the Gospel of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, the Upanishads, and many others. "We're trying hard to find a copy of the Ramayana," said Pastor Jimbo. "We hope to find one before the big ceremony." He continues to say that he will offer a formal apology and promise to burn one at a later date if a copy is not found soon enough.