Khmer Rouge case judge 'biased'.

No shit. There is not one Cambodian alive today who is not, in some way, biased against anyone who was a Khmer Rouge sympathizer or whom colluded with the Khmer Rouge. For those of you who don't know, to make a long story short, this guy Pol Pot (leader of the Khmer Rouge political faction) in one way or another (read as: executed or forced labor) killed about 20% of the Cambodian population from, and this is the impressive part, 1975-1979. That's one in five people over the course of four years, or one person in twenty per year.

This was barely more than thirty years ago.

How can people not be biased?

Also:

I'll be out of town for work from the 15th through the first or second.

I may be on the news in the next month or two. If I do I will be in a nice, pleasant navy blue sweater with patches on the shoulders and elbows, as well as a light gray long sleeved shirt beneath it. I also imagine I will be wearing a gray wool watch cap and perhaps either black carhartts or my herringbone pants. Depending on whether or not I wear a different pair of pants, I will be wearing either my 1950s bowling shoes or my red boots.

In the next week I'll be sending my updated transcript to Evergreen State College. Based off of this they will decide whether or not to admit me as a student for the Fall of 2010. I am jumping on this shit early now that things have coincided beautifully. Basically, if I get in, then it'll be a huge weight off of my shoulders. I have been assured left and right by the admissions people that I will, so I'm trying not to stress about it.

However, if I do not get in, I plan on getting on the news.

Don't care what it takes. I'll make a splash, however I possibly can.

William Shatner is dead.

So. Six months of sobriety.

A lot of interesting things have been going on in the news. Ukraine's leadership has harsh words for Medvedev. Someone's going to make a movie out of this. Saudi man arrested for being a braggart, and the ensuing drama. Just 'cause it's funny. New shit happening with Fatah. The new brain drain.

I ran into someone I haven't seen for two years. Since high school. A lot's changed. She thinks I'm cute (she's not).

I wish Christians and Muslims would shut the fuck up about their respective messiahs for, oh, I don't know, a day. That'd be cool, because the whole Jesus/Mohammad thing is wearing a wee bit thin at the moment.

I mean, seriously, can we all please shut the fuck up about God/Allah/whatever for five fucking minutes? I'm tired about reading about pissy Muslims in the news and finding constantly praying or proselytizing Christians. I bet if everyone shut up about religion for a week, things would go a lot smoother.

Jews don't really talk about God, I've noticed. And you know what? That's fucking awesome! Be religious and spiritual or whatever in the privacy of your home. Don't fucking stop by my door, don't walk up to me at work, the bookstore, the bus station or anywhere else I might be. Don't think I don't get what they're attempting.

I get it. It's not like I grew up in a vacuum surrounding the whole Jesus situation. Yes, I know about Jesus. No, I don't really think he's my lord and savior. Nice try, I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm okay.

If I'm at your home and it's dinner and you're saying grace, I won't even bat an eye lash. Praying that the roast comes out tender? Do your thing. Pray five times a day 'cause it's your thing? Whatever.

Don't do it on my fucking door step and leave me alone.

Christians sometimes appear to wonder why some atheists have little respect for their religious beliefs. When something you don't want in the first place is repeatedly shoved on you, chances are, you still won't fucking like it. No matter how many times someone says Jesus Christ is my savior, I still won't believe. Fact of the matter is, it's started to irritate me more and more.

The guy who put on the event I just got back from (WakeJam 2009) probably lost somewhere in the realm of 15 to 30 thousand dollars on the event. It was a perfect storm of no one showing the fuck up to an admittedly beautiful location. The waterfront in Portland was a nice place to chill for a couple days. The whole trip was an interesting affair.

Let me tell you about Shilo Inn.

For those of you who are not US West Coast bound, Shilo Inn is a chain of hotels who's slogan is "Affordable Excellence." The lay out of Shilo Inns are pretty nice--there's always a pool, a hot tub, a nice place to sit down and eat, the rooms aren't roach infested. However, the service is fucking awful.

- The assistant manager had the balls to charge the going rate of $140 a night as opposed the corporate rate our company gets at $80 a night. Then she proceeded to put down $125 a night as the charge and pocketed the other $15. One of my bosses (I have two, the micromanager and the good cop) proceeded to call up the Shilo Inn corporate head quarters and bitch. Since as carnies we have to travel a lot, especially through Oregon and Washington, it means we use Shilo Inns left and right, pretty much every weekend.

Due to that little FUBAR moment, the Shilo Inn is being investigated by corporate, and surprise surprise! Next day the assistant manager was gone. Poof! Nowhere to be found.

- No one enjoys working there. My fellows and I were having a conversation about how much we hate Shilo and, to really top it off, something we had done in the hotel room the night before involving a Gideon Bible. No one had noticed the server standing there forever and a day, with the biggest shit eating grin across her face, trying as hard as she could not to crack up. When we apologized for making her wait to take our order she replied with, "Oh, no problem, I was enjoying your conversation."

- The next morning, after a friend had arrived to give a hand, we were once again in the Shilo Inn "restaurant," sitting around and chatting about the possibly carcinogenic make-up of the blue dye in their "pond." Three jets threw joyous jism into the air, only to splash down into their freaky blue-green pool. I think they were trying to give the idea of depth and replicate what really deep, cold water looks like. They failed. It was just creepy. Our new server told us about how he didn't understand it either, especially considering how when they fired it up early in the morning the dye didn't disperse that well, making it look like a blue gasoline rainbow across the surface of the water.

- One of the counter lackies walked in on the assistant manager and whoever was working the counter that day, after they had said, "Oh, no, the system's down, we can't take a card, the system's down," and fixed in two shakes of a lamb's tail. He was also more helpful than the manager and gave better directions. Dressed better, too. It didn't look like he was new, either. I mean, he had his shit together, and impressively so. You could tell the other employees went to him to ask questions. So why wasn't our friend the desk lackie at least in the assistant manager's position?

Accent and skin tone. He was a brown guy with a South American accent.

- The food was inconsistent. It went from awful to passable over the course of three days. I was surprised.

Listen to rap.

Read poetry.

Simultaneously.

You know what I think is fucking awful? Those little pro-security videos on hulu with all that "BLUE JACKING" bullshit. Fucking assholes with their smirky little grins and their big, goofy nerd grins. Smiling because they think they can scare people. Boo-motherfucking-hoo.

And what's with all the .GOV commercials about? I mean, I've never seen so many commercials for government programs and websites before. That's cool, but it does serve only a certain population. Okay, so the information spreads, but it's about a widely used service. Also, I enjoy the increase in anti-obesity commercials. However, are the little fatasses going to run around because Donkey from Shrek says so?

Okay. That was what some people might call "misdirected anger." Because I'm not really angry about the commercials. I am angry about some of the weirdest, stupidest shit that has happened at my restaurant job. I was gone from the sixth to the ninth to visit a college and do an admissions interview. It went very well, I found out about a scholarship opportunity that is easily mine that would cut tuition by $3K for the first year and $2.5K for the second. On top of FAFSA.

However, upon getting home, equilibrium sets in. I get a very quietly simmering, that sort of disturbingly angry, call from my boss. In the middle of my veritable vacation. Got time off, did things I needed to do, basked in the glory of hearing all the things I wanted to. And more. I called into work being like, "Hey, what's going on?"

Apparently the guy who was supposed to cover my shift on the seventh, that being Tuesday, didn't show up. No one got a hold of him. I even talked to him on Sunday about it. In person.

Because of this, in that period of time, I got fired and they "brought someone in." My boss sounded very apologetic. I asked him if I still had a job, and he said yes. He said he thought I was a no show. What the fuck is that? I am compulsively, anal retentively punctual about work. Over a year now. Over a motherfucking year.

I mean, I shouldn't be angry, but I was freaked for about fifteen minutes. I just got this other job and this great news, but fuck me, this is such bullshit. I still have the same steady job at the restaurant as I did before. But it reeks of just bullshit.

Now that I think about it, it's kind of whimsical in a sort of comedy way. Except I'm not dead on the steps of the forum. Anywho, I think that was just fucked-up.

On top of that, though, I've been watching a lot of Dead Like Me this morning. Before I have to go all psychoboy with my mouth-parts. It's really quite amusing.

Finally got a second job.

I'm a carnie. Yesterday was my first day on the job, and shit's easy. All I have to do is talk at people and whack little toy cars with a stick occasionally. Y'know, to totally cut out 50% of what I do there.

Today was some ridiculous shit. I was nearly run over not once, not twice, but thrice on the way home from work. I passed by not three or five by seven parties, and only got sucked into one of them. It was interesting.

Today I woke at 6:30 AM yesterday. I have repeatedly woken up at dawn since I quit smoking cigarettes without the recourse of falling asleep. Frankly, it's a little irritating. However, it really does extend my day--I go to bed between 1 and 2 AM usually--and it gives me time where I get bored enough to go on that run.

I called Dylan at 8 AM, when I knew he had just gotten off of his shift, and proposed that we go to the new Dutch waffle place, in fact run by a man with a Dutch accent. The waffles were fucking delicious and the decor screamed pseudo anticapitalist stoner. That and they barter for waffles. Yes, you can barter, for waffles. There's also a book exchange. I ended up trading a trashy romance novel for George Perkovich's India's Nuclear Bomb, a really interesting read on India's nuclear proliferation.

Once Dylan came by and picked me up I was prepared to face the world, full of piss and vinegar. Becca came along, we got there, books were exchanged for and waffles were had. The normal was delicious, then we each got another waffle of a different variety. I ended up getting the Habib, with its very specific flavor. The Blue Bully tasted very good, as did whichever one Becca got.

I headed back to their place, Dylan went to bed, Becca and I looked over movie times, found nothing on, and then decided to trounce on over to Greenhill Humane Society to play with some animals. By the time we got there, after what seemed like forever of driving, and found that it's closed on Wednesdays and Thursdays. Well, drats.

Becca proposed that we go to the coast. So, we left for the coast. On the way we stopped by Triangle Lake and went bouldering, counted the number of homes for sale in the rural farming communities we passed through--11 in four towns, not counting a church and a few properties--and then proceeded back on our way to Florence. Once we finally got to Florence after taking a massive side track to go bouldering we ate at Mo's, which is known for its clam chowder, which for some reason is also the cheapest thing on the menu for $2.95 a cup and $4.25 a bowl. It was quite good.

We later found a book store run by a WASP where I stumbled upon Chuck Palahniuk's new book Pygmy. Being incredibly disappointed by Snuff, I declined to get it. I think that in some way Palahniuk just failed on that book, but I still give him major props for everything else. Snuff was just awful. Apparently Pygmy is better than Fight Club, which would make it as good as Survivor and Rant, two of my favorite books evar.

After we got lost in the tourist trap of Flourence--during which time Becca picked up glow in the dark dice and a crazy girl stood really close to me and talked to herself about the shelf I was looking at in a toy store--we decided that we would go out to the dunes. After walking around and not seeing a way to cross over on foot we drove over and ended up parking in front of the edge of the dunes, a small part where it just barely wasn't hemmed in by trees.

We climbed one hundred feet up the dune at a painfully steep angle, and wandered for a couple miles in the dunes before we hit a small oasis and turned back. We rolled all over the dunes. I would run and then jump, sending myself toppling down the side of a dune for forty or fifty feet. I was soon covered in sand, and it got places where it not to have. Enough said on that.

After trekking two miles back, where the main complaint was, "We should've brought some fucking water," I rolled down the initial dune we had rolled up, nearly cracking my head on concrete. Completely worth it, even though my face was covered in sand. We got back home about an hour later and proceeded to make dinner with Dylan and Michael and watch Where in the World is Osama bin Laden. Awesome movie. Y'all should see it.

Check it out homies, New Hampshire legalized gay marriage. That's four this year.

Think we can notch it up another four by the end of the year?

God, quitting smoking fucking sucks. I really don't recommend it.

It seems like my life is full of changes towards a, fuck, I don't know, healthier way of living? It sucks. I'm sure five years from now when I'm all but a fucking Mormon I'll appreciate it, but up until that point, I just want to rip someone's throat out with my teeth and defecate down their gaping esophagus.

Quitting smoking sucks.

I fucking hate change sometimes. I really hate abandoning people. Which is why this is going to seem really antisocial and kind of freaky. So bear with me, please.

The forum I have frequented for the last six years is now made of fail. MegaTokyo, my favorite forum, is made is fail. I've hated the comic since I was thirteen. But MegaTokyo has always been my favorite forum. Some smart fucking people. Good debate. Good flame wars.

It becomes oddly intimate when you talk to someone over the internet for years. There's no need for pretense. Things you would normally skip over or leave out become safe due to the anonymous nature of the internet.

That gives me a venue to be very, very nasty in. The kind of nasty, crude, mean that digs until your skin and tears. I'm not a super virtuous person. I try to do well by others, but I fail as often as not. I make stupid decisions, I learn from some mistakes, I move on, rinse, rewind and repeat.

But, anyways, so I always had the outlet of being a mean motherfucker. Some of which was bleed over from my day to day interactions, but there were times when I took extra special care to carve into someone, where I would go above and beyond to dissect their inner workings. I'm fucking good at it, too. The internet, particularly forums where people are largely active, is a great place to do it in. You see, there are records tide to that alias and identity.

Want to find out about someone onto the internet? Enter their most common handle or nickname, e-mail addresses, the whole nine yards. If you're careful, you can figure out where someone lives, sometimes their last name. All sorts of things. Their habits, opinions, tastes.

Really, what I'm mourning, is fact that I will no longer be able to castigate assholes, because everyone else does it to newbies so fucking cruelly and with such fucking elitism. I should have just ported over to Locution. But the problem is, I wouldn't really want to tear into those people. I like most of them.

There are so many good memories of carefully crafting and selecting, putting together inch by hate-filled inch, a both meticulous and passionate rant. Something of such immense proportions that it crushed those below it in an onslaught of logic and fury, sources included with links, if I felt especially secure in my position. The responses I got were great; they responded from "You're mean!" to "I'm gonna tell on you to Momma!"

I never got a warning, even fucking once. After all of that, I never even got ten fucking percent. I ranted, raved, insulted, and aggressively sought out argument after argument and pressed button after button.

MT is dead. Fuck that place. Burn it to the ground.

Dolphins seen trying to kill calf
Matt Walker
Editor, Earth News

Adult tucuxi dolphins have been seen trying to kill a newborn calf of their own species.

It is the first record of these dolphins attempting infanticide.

Although common in many mammal species, infanticide is rarely recorded among cetaceans, the group of animals that includes whales and dolphins.

Until now, the behaviour has only been reported twice in bottlenose dolphins; but the new episode suggests it may be more widespread than was thought.

Tucuxi dolphins (Sotalia guianensis) live either in the freshwater of the Amazonian basin, or in the ocean off the coast of Brazil to Nicaragua.

Adult male marine tucuxis are known to be aggressive to one another during the breeding season, but they had never been seen being aggressive or violent towards younger members of their species.

We believe the injuries the newborn calf received from this encounter were fatal
Marine biologist Mariana Nery

That is until Mariana Nery, of the Southern University of Chile in Valdivia, and Sheila Simao, of the Federal Rural University of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, were surveying the dolphins in Sepetiba Bay, Brazil.

On the morning of 5 December 2006, when the sea was calm, they saw a group of six adult tucuxi dolphins approach a mother with her newborn calf.

Two adults separated the baby from its mother. The female began to take evasive action, swimming to try to avoid the interlopers. But the other four adults herded her, hitting her body with their flukes and ramming her.

Any attempt by the mother to escape towards her offspring was prevented by the herding pack, which chased her and blocked her path.

The female dolphin frequently exposed her belly at the water surface, either as a passive behaviour or to signal that she would be sexually receptive to the males.

Four metres away, the two remaining adults rammed the calf and held it underwater. They then threw it in the air and again pushed it underwater. Afterwards the calf was disorientated and swam with difficulty. Although the researchers saw the mother a few days later, they never again saw the calf.

"We believe the injuries the newborn calf received from this encounter were fatal," the researchers report in the journal Marine Mammal Science.

"This is the first time we've seen this type of aggression," explained Ms Nery. "It is difficult to say if they really attempted to kill the calf or if it was playful behaviour that went too far. But they clearly looked to separate the calf from the mother."

They believe the incidence adds to growing evidence that wild dolphins may practise infanticide.

In other animals, males often kill babies they did not father to induce their mother to become sexually receptive once more.

"Female dolphins become sexually receptive within a few days of losing a calf," says Ms Nery. That, combined with the sexual interest shown by the group in the mother, suggests they killed the calf for similar reasons.

---

Let's rephrase the story: Lucy and her son John are walking down the street. A bunch of thugs fucked up on crystal meth proceed to take her son and beat him to death, while four other gang members assault Lucy as she pleads and screams, "I'll do anything! I'll do anything! I'll suck your dicks I'll do anything!"

Now imagine they're dolphins, they're in the ocean, and turning her belly up was saying, "I'll do anything! I'll do anything! I'll blowhole your prehensile penises I'll do anything!"

Does this make sense to anyone else?

Okay, so, check it out.

I haven't laughed this hard in a while. Milk sprayed all out of my nose onto my arm.

BBC buys its own botnet 8:12AM, Thursday 12th March 2009

The BBC has bought a 22,000 PC botnet to expose how easy it is to buy hijacked machines online.

The Corporation's Click programme claims it purchased the botnet after "visiting chatrooms on the internet".

The botnet was used to send out spam to two test email addresses created by the BBC, and then to simulate a denial-of-service attack on a security company's back-up server.

The BBC claims it took only 60 machines bombarding the server with requests to knock over the dummy site.

Despite hijacking real PCs, the BBC claims it's done nothing illegal, because the exercise wasn't done with criminal intent.

The BBC says it's warned the affected users their machines were infected and advised them on to how make their computers more secure. The programme makers also insist they didn't access any personal data on the machines, although that does raise the question of how they managed to contact the owners of the infected PCs. The BBC was unable to comment at the time of publication.

The BBC didn't reveal how much it paid for the botnet, although figures from experts suggest it was in the region of £5,000-£6,000.

"Computers from the US and the UK go for about $350 to $400 (£254-£290) for 1,000 [machines] because they've got much more financial details, like online banking passwords and credit cards details," McAfee security analyst, Greg Day, told the BBC.

Everyone! Far and wide!

So here's an actual, y'know, update on the shit that's going on and my feelings and blah blah blah bullshit.

A quick recap:

- Got married on Earth Day.

- Part of a harm reduction study for cigarette smokers.

- I have a theme song at work (Jeffrey the Happy Dishwasher).

- I have threatened no one in two months.
-- No fist fights in ninety days.

- Today is officially ninety days of no drinking, since February's only got twenty-eight days.

Marriage

Things have changed in a kinda subtle way in Terra and my interpersonal relationship. It's hard to pin down, but other people are starting to notice, so it's not just me. Glad she's moving out in under a month. I don't like the way things could turn and it's starting to make me really uncomfortable at home.

Also, the quickest I've ever driven a woman away. (haha?)

Harm Reduction Study

Today is the first urine sample day. I'm going to be taking off in twenty some-odd minutes to drop off a urine sample and take a test to measure the carbon monoxide levels in my lungs. I'm kind of on the fence about the study, because it seems less like a harm reduction study and more like tobacco products are being used on me so the CDC can test them.

Yeah.

I'm patient 0072. At least I'm an even number.

Work

Seth, one of the cooks, is still trying to get me to join his MMA gym. This spawned out of this time I was passing into the kitchen to put saute pans away and he put his hand on my shoulder, sort of brushed my neck. My reaction could be summed up as, "Get your fucking hands off me."

Then there was this whole dogs-sniffing-each-other's-assholes thing and I somehow managed to prove my dick was bigger than everyone else's, I think. Keep in mind, Seth is taller than me, muscled as fuck, and has been fighting for eight years. One more year than me, and I definitely haven't kept up practice for shit. All I can really do now is joint manipulations and neck breaking (all about leverage).

But, basically, I started getting reams of respect after that little tete a tete. I think I'm the only person at the restaurant who's actually managed to go nose-to-nose with him without crapping myself. Yay!

Aggression and Sobriety

Sometimes I get flashes of anger. Really just out of nowhere. Like... I don't know. I don't really like to talk about it. Someone will ask what I think is a stupid question, or say something crappy to one of my friends, and I'll get this sudden fucking urge to strangle them and fuck their belly wounds. Not so much the latter, but I did actually get that image stuck in my head for a while yesterday, so I figured I'd pay it forward, as it were.

Non drinking is on easy mode. Yesterday was the first time I went, "Well... No. Well... No. Maybe? No." And then I gave Eric his bottle of shiraz and told him to fucking drink it or put it somewhere or something. I felt really weak. I hated that. Like I was less than a person, y'know?

Which, of course, only served to make me more easily agitated than I was before. Like a winner. It's a funfunfun cycle of hate-temptation-hate.

Your results:
You are Will Riker

Will Riker 70% Jean-Luc Picard 60% Worf 60% An Expendable Character (Redshirt) 60% Deanna Troi 55% Spock 52% Mr. Sulu 50% Geordi LaForge 50% Data 41% James T. Kirk (Captain) 40% Leonard McCoy (Bones) 30% Uhura 30% Chekov 25% Beverly Crusher 15% Mr. Scott 10%

At times you are self-centered but you have many friends. You love many women, but the right woman could get you to settle down.

Click here to take the Star Trek Personality Test


Man.

I wanted to be Bones.

It has been three months since I stopped drinking. So, excuse me for a moment, while I relish in my general vulgarities.

You know what?

I feel better than ever.

Fuck all y'all who said I couldn't or wouldn't. I'm half way down and half way to go before I hit my goal.

Frankly, I'm going to whip out my dick and start slapping people in the face with it. All it is a question of motherfucking willpower after drinking consistently for about seven years. Whoop-dee-fucking-doo. All you doubtful dicks can take your tongue to my asshole for all the good your lack of faith has done.

Moreover, lemme put it like this; once again, the people who doubted me are wrong, and I am emerging triumphant.

Oh, right, the significance of three months is that it takes ninety days for physical withdrawal symptoms to pass. Three months is approximately ninety days. Flying colors.

Shit's easy mode.

So; suck my dick, I'm a shark, suck my dick.

Y'all like mudkips.