Year: 2008

While I don’t want to get into politics, I popped by Ashley Todd’s blog just now and found that it was gone, sucked down the Stalinist memory hole. Luckily, however, anti-Todd sentiment has boiled over onto the other posts on the blog resulting in a an odd amalgam of the absolutely earnest and the fairly funny. Take this charming post, for example, in which one of the 50 Republicans muses on a dream he had about McCain winning.
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I’m at home in Columbus right now and I was digging through my old papers and found this little collection of floppy disks containing all of my cracking warez. As I recall, I wrote the viruses on the VIRUSES disk from a book by Cue Publishing (??) and BlueBoy was supposed to be a wardialer and the name was based on BlueBoxing, which I read about in an article on Kevin Mitnick in PC Magazine. You’ll also appreciate that I had no idea what Blue Boy was at the time and marvel at my wide-eyed innocence. I also believe that the virus on the VIRUSES disk actually fried my Packard-Bell at the time.

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” Jake Whittenberg is a General Assignment Reporter for ABC 6 News at 5, 6 & 11pm and FOX 28 News at Ten.” – What is going on here? This guy ran the SAME package on Fox 28 in Columbus at 10pm then ABC News ran the same story at 11pm. Is Columbus that hard up for newscasters? Does this happen often?

As a father, I think this kind of jovial torture is important for the mental growth of youngsters. Is it food or will it eat you in your sleep? Feel free to think about this, little fellow, for the next four hours.

via DaddyTypes

This is the full 1 hour production of Sun Country, produced by Scotch ‘n’ Soda at Carnegie Mellon University. It starred Matt Morrow, Alexis Sottile, Jeremy Lewitt, and Lou Bojarski. Those were seriously the days. The quality is pretty bad – straight from VHS – but you can sort of watch it.

Matt Taibbi comments on the magic of Sarah Palin and what it says about America.

All around me, a million cops in their absurd post-9/11 space-combat get-ups stand guard as assholes in papier-mache puppet heads scramble around for one last moment of network face time before the coverage goes dark. Four-chinned delegates from places like Arkansas and Georgia are pouring joyously out the gates in search of bars where they can load up on Zombies and Scorpion Bowls and other “wild” drinks and extramaritally grope their turkey-necked female companions in bathroom stalls as part of the “unbelievable time” they will inevitably report to their pals back home. Only 21st-century Americans can pass through a metal detector six times in an hour and still think they’re at a party.