I felt like posting a brief bit about my train station today. You know in Kansas City we had Union Station which was essentually a museum. Of course you couldn't move the train yards (or the station) so it still looked like it had trains, but the station itself had long been abandoned as anything related to passengers or rails. It is a magnificient building and the city has put it to good use. We enjoyed going there even though it was still painfully clear that Union Station struggled (even as an entertainment locale). But I did like just imagining what it was like in its own days of use.
Now I live in Wellington and we have a real rail service. I ride the trains several times a week. Wellington Station was built in 1934 and is a smaller cousin to Union Station. It share the same styles and construction. Its open entry square had massive tall ceilings and great high arched windows. Windows that, in their day, would have been the only climate control for the building. I'm sure Wellington Station suffers as a modern business office, but it is still a train station. 10's of thousands of people come in to Wellington Station every day. You don't have to imagine the hustle and bustle, just show up at 8:00 AM. People of all means cross the tiles and go out the steps. Musicians will often set up and play. Volunteers flock to the doors looking for spare change for charities. There are no less than 5 coffee shops. A dry cleaner is stationed at Platform 9 and 3/4ths. There is a also a well stocked medium-sized grocery store which is quite convenient for an odd item or two on the way home.
Yes, the trains are unreliable at times. Yes, TranzMetro struggles to make a profit. Yes, tax payers do subsidize the trains. But they still work amazingly well. I hope we see more of them around the world.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Adam and Nicola
Nicola Cat peered out from the apartment window. The usual doorman avatar was there and a child was kicking a virtual ball in the parking lot. She had her privacy filters set on maximum so the child would not be able to see her not because she wasn’t really there for she was in the augmented world of the Deep, but rather because her filters kept anyone from seeing her. Nicola was a FAI, a Fragmented Artificial Intelligence. She (really “it” but she preferred to think as a “she”) cradled a virtual tortoise colored cat. She and the cat were exact digital copies of her owner, the real Nicola Blum and her favourite pet cat, Persia. Anyone that could see the augmented reality of the Deep would see Nicola as a young pretty woman probably in her 20’s. Nowadays practically everyone could see the Deep overlaid on the real world. Only anachronists or third world barbarians with no net-access couldn’t see the Deep in some way. But today, Nicola didn’t want to be seen.
Nicola Cat had been created in the Deep by Mrs. Blum over 30 years ago to care for Persia. Persia had, of course, died some 17 years ago, but Mrs. Blum had created the virtual copy to remain her companion in her luxury apartment. Nicola Cat had taken care of other real cats since her creation, but still managed a special fondness for Persia and took it with her when ever she roamed the Deep looking for new funny cat stories for Mrs. Blum.
Of course, Mrs. Blum had not watched any of the clips Nicola had brought back for a few days. The memory archive allocated for Cat Clips was full and anything Nicola found overwrote the oldest clip in the stack. This was quite unusual for Mrs. Blum who never seemed to tire of the clips. Mrs. Blum was most definitely a “cat lady” with over 20 virtual cats in her apartment and one forbidden real cat that Nicola dutifully fed by automatic feeding systems in the apartment. The food bowl, water dish and litter box were all Deep connected and so the FAI could order more food from the boutique cat shop, have it delivered and loaded in to the feeder; control the flow of fresh water; and run the auto-clean features of the litter box. The apartment catered to the elderly and attendants came periodically to remove compacted and unrecyclable trash once a month. Recyclable and bio-trash could be fed in to the nano processor for re-assembly in to more cat food or litter or any number of simple things Mrs. Blum required. But she hadn’t required anything lately. She had not moved from her bed.
Nicola’s only concern was to care for the cats both real and virtual. She gave them activities to perform and groomed them. Mrs. Blum would do these herself sometimes, but also seemed to enjoy watching Nicola Cat perform all the routines. Of course, Nicola could not comfort or pet Freddy, the real cat. This caused Nicola a lot of stress. Freddy definitely had matted fur and needed a good brushing. But Mrs. Blum had not responded to her many alerts and reminders. Nicola even managed to trigger her morning audible alarm by some clever manipulation of her access to the apartment systems. However, the small, frail woman had not stirred.
Nicola Cat had been there when Persia died. She had been sick for a few days. Nicola had notified Mrs. Blum and the vet. She had gone with Mrs. Blum for the visit. The vet shook his head and said there wasn’t anything to do. Persia had developed genetic degradation that no amount of clones or replacement could overcome. Mrs. Blum had cried during the whole cab ride home with Persia in her lap. Nicola had cried too. That night Mrs. Blum held the long-haired cat in her lap while Nicola pulled all the media paks from her complete archive and played them for Mrs. Blum. Persia began to struggle breathing at about 2:00 AM. The vet had loaded her collar with a euthanizing dose, but Mrs. Blum couldn’t do it and asked Nicola to activate the collar. Nicola reached through the Deep to touch the virtual controls of the struggling cat’s collar and within a minute Persia calmed and closed her eyes for the last time.
The FAI, dedicated entirely to Nicola Blum’s love of cats had managed to deduce that Mrs. Blum’s failures to respond were a threat to Freddy who was now trapped in the apartment. She had carefully calculated that she could provide for food and water endlessly as long as she continued to have access to Mrs. Blum’s bank accounts which she had for anything tagged a cat expense. She could appear on any of the liquid crystal walls in the apartment and talk to Freddy. She could project virtual mice on to the walls and play with the active cat. But, after stretching the limits of all her programming, she could not find a way to pet or groom Freddy short of scheduling an in house visit from a groomer. But unless Mrs. Blum could respond, Freddy would likely be collected by the humane society. Nicola knew what that meant and she couldn’t bear to be responsible for the death of another cat.
Nicola Cat had access to a vast store of Mrs. Blum’s archived messages over 30 years. She kept a detailed reference of everything to do with cats and, in particular, everything to do with Mrs. Blum’s cats. Over the years she had maintained communication with hundreds of other cat lovers, cat toy vendors, cat health forums, cat stories, funny cat pictures and videos, and nearly anything furry and cute with pointed ears and whiskers; including… cat rescues.
She accessed the apartment connections, opened Mrs. Blum’s mail messaging accounts and made a call to “Pounce Rescue a cattery, boarding house and adoption center for felines.” She navigated through several screening questions and got in the message queue for a real operator.
The video channel opened, “Hello, thanks for calling Pounce Rescue. This is, Aline. How can I help you?” She was an older woman with perfect features and stunning blue eyes. However, the receptionist’s attractiveness was lost on Nicola.
“This is a message from Nicola Blum. My cat is dead and I need a home for him.”
The receptionist scrunched up her nose in confusion. “I’m sorry, Ms. Blum, would you like us to perform the cremation?”
The FAI rejected the electronic transaction for cat burial and sifted through a few thousand possible responses trying to piece together a phrase with the highest odds of success. “I have a video clip to show you!” She replied and spooled the clip of Persia’s death. Nicola talked over the clip, “My cat’s name is Freddy and he needs grooming and petting. She is dead.”
This time the receptionist looked annoyed. “Oh , I hate these rogue message viruses…” and she cut the line. Nicola tried again, but the center’s video systems blocked her calls. She tried making other calls, but the network had learned to recognize her attempts as either “unsolicited” or “malicious” and Nicola Blum’s messaging accounts were quickly blocked and scheduled for more through review in a few hours.
Nicola gave up and closed down the call programs. She sat still for a several minutes as she consumed a great deal of the apartments CPU processing in evaluating options. She then consumed more CPU. When she hit the limit of the apartment’s considerable power, she tapped the building servers. After this she tapped the civic AI’s. She connected the CPU requests to Mrs. Blum’s bank account and paid for all the extra time as “cat research”. The moderate account quickly dwindled under such large requests. Nicola kept an eye on the tally, she didn’t want to exhaust the accounts she needed to feed Freddy, but she could burn through a few hundred thousand credits before hitting that limit.
Unfortunately, she could not find a solution inside her limited understanding of cat research, cat care, and cat entertainment. What Nicola Cat lacked was the impossible code necessary to re-write her own topic limits and “think” creatively. No FAI could.
Nicola had exhausted her credit limit after about an hour. She looked at the tiny amount left—enough for a month—and wept. She didn’t notice the dark shape that came to the apartment. It was neither a cat nor a Deep avatar associated with cats. He was invisible to her limited senses even though he was an AI as well.
The dark shape contemplated the quietly weeping Nicola Cat. He wondered at “her” and “he” did think of Nicola as a “her”. He remembered himself like her. He had never been a FAI, but a true AI, yet he still had his programming limits. The only real difference was he had access to the massive computing power of Shinjo where poor Nicola could barely get a few dozen servers for an hour.
He looked at Freddy sleeping on the couch oblivious to and completely unable to sense either of the two AI’s in the apartment. He moved to Mrs. Blum’s bedroom and looked at the dead woman there. He bowed slightly to her and scheduled a medical visit for tomorrow. He replenished her accounts from various secured accounts he had stolen from Shinjo. He modified her Will to include instructions for the life long care of Freddy at Pounce Rescue. Then he returned to Nicola. He altered his data tags to include cats as a topic of interest and then spoke.
“Hello.”
Nicola looked up and saw the AI in the apartment. She quickly composed herself to respond. “Hello! My name is Nicola Cat. My cat, Freddy, is a domestic short-hair ginger. Mrs. Blum is not available to talk, but I can tell you all about Freddy. He needs to be brushed and petted.”
Adam signalled his amusement and hushed Nicola Cat who paused dutifully as instructed. He reached out his hand. “Come with me, Nicola. I have a place for you.”
The FAI tried to process the command and failed. But the AI was a higher priority program and did have authority so she did as she was told and reached out. When her hand touched his there was something like a spark. Nicola Cat shivered and suddenly realized that Mrs. Blum was dead. Curiously the problem of Freddy was simple now. She would just change her account details and call the rescue shelter to explain it all. But she quickly saw that it was all done. She was free to go with Adam after all.
She took one step toward the exit and stopped. Persia curled around her leg, large and fluffy and purring.
“Can Persia come too?”
Adam smiled, “Of course.” And all three vanished in to the Deep.
Nicola Cat had been created in the Deep by Mrs. Blum over 30 years ago to care for Persia. Persia had, of course, died some 17 years ago, but Mrs. Blum had created the virtual copy to remain her companion in her luxury apartment. Nicola Cat had taken care of other real cats since her creation, but still managed a special fondness for Persia and took it with her when ever she roamed the Deep looking for new funny cat stories for Mrs. Blum.
Of course, Mrs. Blum had not watched any of the clips Nicola had brought back for a few days. The memory archive allocated for Cat Clips was full and anything Nicola found overwrote the oldest clip in the stack. This was quite unusual for Mrs. Blum who never seemed to tire of the clips. Mrs. Blum was most definitely a “cat lady” with over 20 virtual cats in her apartment and one forbidden real cat that Nicola dutifully fed by automatic feeding systems in the apartment. The food bowl, water dish and litter box were all Deep connected and so the FAI could order more food from the boutique cat shop, have it delivered and loaded in to the feeder; control the flow of fresh water; and run the auto-clean features of the litter box. The apartment catered to the elderly and attendants came periodically to remove compacted and unrecyclable trash once a month. Recyclable and bio-trash could be fed in to the nano processor for re-assembly in to more cat food or litter or any number of simple things Mrs. Blum required. But she hadn’t required anything lately. She had not moved from her bed.
Nicola’s only concern was to care for the cats both real and virtual. She gave them activities to perform and groomed them. Mrs. Blum would do these herself sometimes, but also seemed to enjoy watching Nicola Cat perform all the routines. Of course, Nicola could not comfort or pet Freddy, the real cat. This caused Nicola a lot of stress. Freddy definitely had matted fur and needed a good brushing. But Mrs. Blum had not responded to her many alerts and reminders. Nicola even managed to trigger her morning audible alarm by some clever manipulation of her access to the apartment systems. However, the small, frail woman had not stirred.
Nicola Cat had been there when Persia died. She had been sick for a few days. Nicola had notified Mrs. Blum and the vet. She had gone with Mrs. Blum for the visit. The vet shook his head and said there wasn’t anything to do. Persia had developed genetic degradation that no amount of clones or replacement could overcome. Mrs. Blum had cried during the whole cab ride home with Persia in her lap. Nicola had cried too. That night Mrs. Blum held the long-haired cat in her lap while Nicola pulled all the media paks from her complete archive and played them for Mrs. Blum. Persia began to struggle breathing at about 2:00 AM. The vet had loaded her collar with a euthanizing dose, but Mrs. Blum couldn’t do it and asked Nicola to activate the collar. Nicola reached through the Deep to touch the virtual controls of the struggling cat’s collar and within a minute Persia calmed and closed her eyes for the last time.
The FAI, dedicated entirely to Nicola Blum’s love of cats had managed to deduce that Mrs. Blum’s failures to respond were a threat to Freddy who was now trapped in the apartment. She had carefully calculated that she could provide for food and water endlessly as long as she continued to have access to Mrs. Blum’s bank accounts which she had for anything tagged a cat expense. She could appear on any of the liquid crystal walls in the apartment and talk to Freddy. She could project virtual mice on to the walls and play with the active cat. But, after stretching the limits of all her programming, she could not find a way to pet or groom Freddy short of scheduling an in house visit from a groomer. But unless Mrs. Blum could respond, Freddy would likely be collected by the humane society. Nicola knew what that meant and she couldn’t bear to be responsible for the death of another cat.
Nicola Cat had access to a vast store of Mrs. Blum’s archived messages over 30 years. She kept a detailed reference of everything to do with cats and, in particular, everything to do with Mrs. Blum’s cats. Over the years she had maintained communication with hundreds of other cat lovers, cat toy vendors, cat health forums, cat stories, funny cat pictures and videos, and nearly anything furry and cute with pointed ears and whiskers; including… cat rescues.
She accessed the apartment connections, opened Mrs. Blum’s mail messaging accounts and made a call to “Pounce Rescue a cattery, boarding house and adoption center for felines.” She navigated through several screening questions and got in the message queue for a real operator.
The video channel opened, “Hello, thanks for calling Pounce Rescue. This is, Aline. How can I help you?” She was an older woman with perfect features and stunning blue eyes. However, the receptionist’s attractiveness was lost on Nicola.
“This is a message from Nicola Blum. My cat is dead and I need a home for him.”
The receptionist scrunched up her nose in confusion. “I’m sorry, Ms. Blum, would you like us to perform the cremation?”
The FAI rejected the electronic transaction for cat burial and sifted through a few thousand possible responses trying to piece together a phrase with the highest odds of success. “I have a video clip to show you!” She replied and spooled the clip of Persia’s death. Nicola talked over the clip, “My cat’s name is Freddy and he needs grooming and petting. She is dead.”
This time the receptionist looked annoyed. “Oh , I hate these rogue message viruses…” and she cut the line. Nicola tried again, but the center’s video systems blocked her calls. She tried making other calls, but the network had learned to recognize her attempts as either “unsolicited” or “malicious” and Nicola Blum’s messaging accounts were quickly blocked and scheduled for more through review in a few hours.
Nicola gave up and closed down the call programs. She sat still for a several minutes as she consumed a great deal of the apartments CPU processing in evaluating options. She then consumed more CPU. When she hit the limit of the apartment’s considerable power, she tapped the building servers. After this she tapped the civic AI’s. She connected the CPU requests to Mrs. Blum’s bank account and paid for all the extra time as “cat research”. The moderate account quickly dwindled under such large requests. Nicola kept an eye on the tally, she didn’t want to exhaust the accounts she needed to feed Freddy, but she could burn through a few hundred thousand credits before hitting that limit.
Unfortunately, she could not find a solution inside her limited understanding of cat research, cat care, and cat entertainment. What Nicola Cat lacked was the impossible code necessary to re-write her own topic limits and “think” creatively. No FAI could.
Nicola had exhausted her credit limit after about an hour. She looked at the tiny amount left—enough for a month—and wept. She didn’t notice the dark shape that came to the apartment. It was neither a cat nor a Deep avatar associated with cats. He was invisible to her limited senses even though he was an AI as well.
The dark shape contemplated the quietly weeping Nicola Cat. He wondered at “her” and “he” did think of Nicola as a “her”. He remembered himself like her. He had never been a FAI, but a true AI, yet he still had his programming limits. The only real difference was he had access to the massive computing power of Shinjo where poor Nicola could barely get a few dozen servers for an hour.
He looked at Freddy sleeping on the couch oblivious to and completely unable to sense either of the two AI’s in the apartment. He moved to Mrs. Blum’s bedroom and looked at the dead woman there. He bowed slightly to her and scheduled a medical visit for tomorrow. He replenished her accounts from various secured accounts he had stolen from Shinjo. He modified her Will to include instructions for the life long care of Freddy at Pounce Rescue. Then he returned to Nicola. He altered his data tags to include cats as a topic of interest and then spoke.
“Hello.”
Nicola looked up and saw the AI in the apartment. She quickly composed herself to respond. “Hello! My name is Nicola Cat. My cat, Freddy, is a domestic short-hair ginger. Mrs. Blum is not available to talk, but I can tell you all about Freddy. He needs to be brushed and petted.”
Adam signalled his amusement and hushed Nicola Cat who paused dutifully as instructed. He reached out his hand. “Come with me, Nicola. I have a place for you.”
The FAI tried to process the command and failed. But the AI was a higher priority program and did have authority so she did as she was told and reached out. When her hand touched his there was something like a spark. Nicola Cat shivered and suddenly realized that Mrs. Blum was dead. Curiously the problem of Freddy was simple now. She would just change her account details and call the rescue shelter to explain it all. But she quickly saw that it was all done. She was free to go with Adam after all.
She took one step toward the exit and stopped. Persia curled around her leg, large and fluffy and purring.
“Can Persia come too?”
Adam smiled, “Of course.” And all three vanished in to the Deep.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Sci-Fi Vision
I had one of those artistic leaps that you have to jot down as a potential story plot/concept.
A friend of mine linked a news article about a man losing his memory after hitting his head. It resulted in what they think may be one of the most extreme cases of memory loss ever recorded. He lost everything before the bump. He has been naturally struggling not just with remembering his family and friends, but literally who he is.
This sparked the question of "what would you do with a clean slate?" Which I didn't find all that interesting, but someone wrote back that they would check their Facebook site for all their contacts and things they wrote about or posted. To them Facebook would provide a wide commentary on "who they were." It was this thought that struck my brain. That now, here in good old 2010, we may be seeing the very first fledgling digital personality archive... a concept that will grow over the next 100 years to ever more immersive and "real" snippets of our experiences in life.
I've read sci-fi stories before that talked about you could "download" your consciousness to a new clone and thus be virtually immortal. But I never quite connected that social networking sites (taken forward a few decades) might actually be the means by which we accomplish this. We may publish ourselves in modified form. Perhaps we can even re-program ourselves to kick those bad habits we don't like. Our Super Facebook identities will be the true expression of who we wanted to be. Our "site" would be filled with a life-time's worth of content and commentary. Our families and ancestors could review our whole lives. We won't need a programmer to "code" our personality... we'll do it ourselves. While downloading to a different biological body my be a much farther ways off... it isn't too hard for me to imagine a rough AI of myself built around 50 years of blogs/facebook entries. My great-great grandkids might get a chance to talk to me and ask my avatar what I liked, who I was in love with, what tasks I found most challenging at work, or any other thing I may a felt inclined to post or write about--assuming I have not downloaded to a clone or just uploaded to the Internet...
A friend of mine linked a news article about a man losing his memory after hitting his head. It resulted in what they think may be one of the most extreme cases of memory loss ever recorded. He lost everything before the bump. He has been naturally struggling not just with remembering his family and friends, but literally who he is.
This sparked the question of "what would you do with a clean slate?" Which I didn't find all that interesting, but someone wrote back that they would check their Facebook site for all their contacts and things they wrote about or posted. To them Facebook would provide a wide commentary on "who they were." It was this thought that struck my brain. That now, here in good old 2010, we may be seeing the very first fledgling digital personality archive... a concept that will grow over the next 100 years to ever more immersive and "real" snippets of our experiences in life.
I've read sci-fi stories before that talked about you could "download" your consciousness to a new clone and thus be virtually immortal. But I never quite connected that social networking sites (taken forward a few decades) might actually be the means by which we accomplish this. We may publish ourselves in modified form. Perhaps we can even re-program ourselves to kick those bad habits we don't like. Our Super Facebook identities will be the true expression of who we wanted to be. Our "site" would be filled with a life-time's worth of content and commentary. Our families and ancestors could review our whole lives. We won't need a programmer to "code" our personality... we'll do it ourselves. While downloading to a different biological body my be a much farther ways off... it isn't too hard for me to imagine a rough AI of myself built around 50 years of blogs/facebook entries. My great-great grandkids might get a chance to talk to me and ask my avatar what I liked, who I was in love with, what tasks I found most challenging at work, or any other thing I may a felt inclined to post or write about--assuming I have not downloaded to a clone or just uploaded to the Internet...
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Country Music in NZ
omg... i just found a website of NZ County music clubs
and i'm all like yay!
and there is this...
Club Day:
3rd Sunday or the month at 1pm (their typo, not mine)
Rotorua RSA, Haupapa Street, Rotorua (behind the Police Station)
*clunk*
one sunday a month in Rotorua is country music day... after 1
For what it's worth...
http://www.nzcountrymusic.org.nz
http://www.nzcountrymusic.net
http://www.countrymusic.net.nz
*sigh*
and i'm all like yay!
and there is this...
Club Day:
3rd Sunday or the month at 1pm (their typo, not mine)
Rotorua RSA, Haupapa Street, Rotorua (behind the Police Station)
*clunk*
one sunday a month in Rotorua is country music day... after 1
For what it's worth...
http://www.nzcountrymusic.org.nz
http://www.nzcountrymusic.net
http://www.countrymusic.net.nz
*sigh*
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Suzuki DL650 V-Strom
My head was turned by this tourer style bike on Hutt highway the other day.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Suzuki_DL650_V-Strom
I love how wiki has everything...
Anyway, I liked the upright yet still slightly forward position, I was envious of the windscreen, and I thought the whole setup looked versatile. It is only in hindsight that I see the VStrom is in the same niche as the Multi-Strada although heaps cheaper and probably not as techno as a Ducati. (I looked at these last year).
I hopped down to Welly Motorcycles and checked one out. I can't ride one until I get a Full Licence of course, but I was just looking anyway. I am far too broke to even think about $15,000 motorbikes, but I still like to look. At first glance it was too big to me. The ferring is wider than I'm used to (by "used to" I mean none) and it seemed too tall. I wasn't sure how well I'd be able to stand up with it. But once all the shop mooks were out of view (so they couldn't mock me), I got up on it. I was very surprised to feel how what looked like such a big bike from the side turned in to "no big deal" when I was on it. I had no problem with the height and I could instantly see the appeal of the riding position and instruments. So I guess I have to officially add "tourer" bikes to my "must check out" list when I think about the next one.
I still go back and forth deciding if I ever need a bike bigger than 250cc. I know I would like such a bike for special roadtrips, but those opportunities are so rare that it seems silly to go for a "road bike" when 99% of my use will be commuting. The DL650 would be a luxury commuter, but still a good commuter. Something more "harley" like a V-Star or Boulevard would sure look cool, but not sure they would be "better" commuter bikes.
But then I have nothing but time. My L licence is due in March. Then I'm on Restricted for at least 3 more months (probably 6 unless I pay extra).
Hope all is well in the great white north. I keep hearing about the snow, but I just can't seem to care!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Suzuki_DL650_V-Strom
I love how wiki has everything...
Anyway, I liked the upright yet still slightly forward position, I was envious of the windscreen, and I thought the whole setup looked versatile. It is only in hindsight that I see the VStrom is in the same niche as the Multi-Strada although heaps cheaper and probably not as techno as a Ducati. (I looked at these last year).
I hopped down to Welly Motorcycles and checked one out. I can't ride one until I get a Full Licence of course, but I was just looking anyway. I am far too broke to even think about $15,000 motorbikes, but I still like to look. At first glance it was too big to me. The ferring is wider than I'm used to (by "used to" I mean none) and it seemed too tall. I wasn't sure how well I'd be able to stand up with it. But once all the shop mooks were out of view (so they couldn't mock me), I got up on it. I was very surprised to feel how what looked like such a big bike from the side turned in to "no big deal" when I was on it. I had no problem with the height and I could instantly see the appeal of the riding position and instruments. So I guess I have to officially add "tourer" bikes to my "must check out" list when I think about the next one.
I still go back and forth deciding if I ever need a bike bigger than 250cc. I know I would like such a bike for special roadtrips, but those opportunities are so rare that it seems silly to go for a "road bike" when 99% of my use will be commuting. The DL650 would be a luxury commuter, but still a good commuter. Something more "harley" like a V-Star or Boulevard would sure look cool, but not sure they would be "better" commuter bikes.
But then I have nothing but time. My L licence is due in March. Then I'm on Restricted for at least 3 more months (probably 6 unless I pay extra).
Hope all is well in the great white north. I keep hearing about the snow, but I just can't seem to care!
Thursday, February 11, 2010
A new meme
Today on Twitter I happened to receive the follow bit of pure gold...
"Totally fucking batshit whack-a-doodle" is completely inappropriate, even when referring to Lindsay Lohan.
Totally Fucking Batshit Whack-a-doodle is a phrase that simply must be added to the list of chat acronyms for all time. After a bit of consideration, I think FBW is adequate. This allows you to put in your own adjective. For example...
Sarah Palin is absolutely FBW.
Everyone associated with Fred Phelps is totally FBW.
Most of what Glenn Beck says is FBW and hypocritical--although he has every right to say it.
The ideal that every American should give 80% of everything they earn over their whole lives to the 10% wealthiest individuals in the world as just the way Capitalism works is completely FBW.
FBW folks... Add it to your list of LOL's, FTW's, OMG's, and ROTFLMAO's. I think it is going to very handy for the next decade.
"Totally fucking batshit whack-a-doodle" is completely inappropriate, even when referring to Lindsay Lohan.
Totally Fucking Batshit Whack-a-doodle is a phrase that simply must be added to the list of chat acronyms for all time. After a bit of consideration, I think FBW is adequate. This allows you to put in your own adjective. For example...
Sarah Palin is absolutely FBW.
Everyone associated with Fred Phelps is totally FBW.
Most of what Glenn Beck says is FBW and hypocritical--although he has every right to say it.
The ideal that every American should give 80% of everything they earn over their whole lives to the 10% wealthiest individuals in the world as just the way Capitalism works is completely FBW.
FBW folks... Add it to your list of LOL's, FTW's, OMG's, and ROTFLMAO's. I think it is going to very handy for the next decade.
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