Archive for November, 2009

CRS

An announcent from Blue Mars

As of today we will be incorporating Cockney Rhyming Slang into our chat. To start you off me old china, Blue Mars can be referred to as Supa Stars.

Cockney rhyming slang (sometimes abbreviated as CRS) is a form of English slang which originated in the East End of London. Many of its expressions have passed into common language, and the creation of new ones is no longer restricted to Cockneys

So “

  • Not another frog to cross? Me plates are killing me, wish I could be-a-sport like in Supa.
  • ” Not another road (frog and toad) to cross? Me feet (plates of meat) are killing me. Wish I could teleport (be-a-sport) like in Blue Mars (supa stars).

Please note that only the first word of the phrase is used. Comments please and maybe my trouble will show you her bristols.

Tee Shirt for the first translation of:

‘Allo me old china – wot say we pop round the Jack. I’ll stand you a pig and you can rabbit on about your teapots. We can ‘ave some loop and tommy and be off before the dickory hits twelve.

And CRS is OK, this from the BBC:

A cash machine operator has introduced Cockney rhyming slang to a number of its ATMs in east London.

People using Bank Machine’s ATMs can opt to have their prompts and options given to them in rhyming slang.

As a result they will be asked to enter their Huckleberry Finn, rather than their Pin, and will have to select how much sausage and mash (cash) they want.

The rhyming slang promp will be available from five cash machines in east London for three months.

Other rhyming slang prompts people can expect include a speckled hen (£10), while the machine may inform users that it is contacting their rattle and tank, rather than bank.

Ron Delnevo, managing director of Bank Machine, said: “We wanted to introduce something fun and of local interest to our London machines.

“Whilst we expect some residents will visit the machine to just have a butcher’s (look), most will be genuinely pleased as this is the first time a financial services provider will have recognised the Cockney language in such a manner.”

Out of respect Pray Silence For Her Royal Highness, Her Majesty The Queen.

Sorry Video on its way……


DA VIDEO IS READY! MP4 & Flash MP4 is Really SLOW.

O B 4 I GO Virtuality Labs and La Carissima are live

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Blue Mars ~ A Teleporting Story

A New (to me) Feature. Teleporting using the ESC key: This Video Features The Telescope and its really cool. Why Isn’t The World Here?


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Happy Birthday Dr Who

This day in history:

At sixteen minutes past five on 23rd November 1963, a British television institution was born. Doctor Who would go on to become the longest-running science-fiction programme in the world, eventually spawning twenty six seasons of adventures from 1963 to 1989. In total, eight actors have played the part of Gallifrey’s most famous Time Lord. From the very first – William Hartnell in 1963 – to the very last – Paul McGann, in the 1996 TV Movie – the Doctor has wandered through time and space in his trusty time machine, an old type-40 TARDIS (Time and Relative Dimensions in Space). Although appearing to be nothing more than a battered blue police box, it is in fact vastly bigger on the inside than on the outside, and always departs with its familiar wheezing, groaning sound.



The BBC are “No Longer Updating This Page

We have To Get a T.A.R.D.I.S. for Blue Mars, but what am I thinking Blue Mars Is bigger on the inside than on the Outside it is a Time And Relative Dimension In Space

T.A.R.D.I.S.

T.A.R.D.I.S.

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The Sick Bed of Cuchulainn By Shane MacGowan (1985) ~~~ McCormack and Richard Tauber are singing by the bed There’s a glass of punch below your feet and an angel at your head There’s devils on each side of you with bottles in their hands You need one more drop of poison and you’ll dream of foreign lands When you pissed yourself in Frankfurt and got syph down in Cologne And you heard the rattling death trains as you lay there all alone Frank Ryan brought you whiskey in a brothel in Madrid And you decked some fucking blackshirt who was curing all the Yids At the sick bed of Cuchulainn we’ll kneel and say a prayer And the ghosts are rattling at the door and the devil’s in the chair And in the Euston Tavern you screamed it was your shout But they wouldn’t give you service so you kicked the windows out They took you out into the street and kicked you in the brains So you walked back in through a bolted door and did it all again At the sick bed of Cuchulainn we’ll kneel and say a prayer And the ghosts are rattling at the door and the devil’s in the chair You remember that foul evening when you heard the banshees howl There was lousy drunken bastards singing Billy is in the bowl They took you up to midnight mass and left you in the lurch So you dropped a button in the plate and spewed up in the church Now you’ll sing a song of liberty for blacks and paks and jocks And they’ll take you from this dump you’re in and stick you in a box Then they’ll take you to Cloughprior and shove you in the ground But you’ll stick your head back out and shout “we’ll have another round” At the graveside of Cuchulainn we’ll kneel around and pray And God is in His heaven, and Billy’s down by the bay

The Sick Bed of Cú Chulainn

Ahhhhh
Ahhhhh

The Death of Cu Chulainn

When Cu Chulainn’s foes came for the last time against him, his land was filled with smoke and flame, the weapons fell from their racks, and the day of his death drew nigh. The evil tidings were brought to him, and the maiden Leborcham bade him arise, though he was worn out with fighting in defence of the plain of Muirthemne, and Niam, wife of Conall the Victorious, also spoke to him; so he sprang to his arms, and flung his mantle around him; but the brooch fell and pierced his foot, forewarning him. Then he took his shield and ordered his charioteer Loeg to harness his horse, the Gray of Macha.

“I swear by the gods by whom my people swear,” said Loeg, “though the men of Conchobar’s province were around the Gray of Macha, they could not bring him to the chariot. I never refused thee till today. If thou wilt, come thou, and speak with the Gray himself.”

Cu Chulainn went to him. And thrice did the horse turn his left side to his master. On the night before, the Morrigu had broken the chariot, for she liked not Cu Chulainn’s going to the battle, for she knew that he would not come again to Emain, Macha. Then Cu Chulainn reproached his horse, saying that he was not wont to deal thus with his master.

Thereat the Gray of Macha came and let his big round tears of blood fall on Cu Chulainn’s feet. And then Cu Chulainn leaped into the chariot, and drove it suddenly southwards along the Road of Midluachar.

And Leborcham met him and besought him not to leave them; and the thrice fifty queens who were in Emain Macha and who loved him cried to him with a great cry. And when he turned his chariot to the right, they gave a scream of wailing and lamentation, and smote their hands, for they knew that he would not come to them again.

The house of his nurse that had fostered him was before him on the road. He used to go to it whenever he went driving past her southwards and from the south. And she kept for him always a vessel with drink therein. Now he drank a drink and fared forth, bidding his nurse farewell. Then he saw three Crones, blind of the left eye, before him on the road. They had cooked on spits of rowantree a dog with poisons and spells. And one of the things that Cu Chulainn was bound not to do, was going to a cooking-hearth and consuming the food. And another of the things that he must not do, was eating his namesake’s flesh. He sped on and was about to pass them, for he knew that they were not there for his good.

Then said a Crone to him: “Visit us, O Cu Chulainn.”

“I will not visit you in sooth,” said Cu Chulainn.

“The food is only a hound,” said she. “Were this a great cooking-hearth thou wouldst have visited us. But because what is here is little, thou comest not. Unseemly are the great who endure not the little and poor.”

Then he drew nigh to her, and the Crone gave him the shoulder­blade of the hound out of her left hand. And then Cu Chulainn ate it out of his left hand, and put it under his left thigh. The hand that took it and the thigh under which he put it were seized from trunk to end, so that the normal strength abode not in them.

Then he drove along the Road of Midluachar around Sliab Fuait; and his enemy Erc son of Cairbre saw him in his chariot, with his sword shining redly in his hand, and the light of valor hovering over him, and his three-hued hair like strings of golden thread over the edge of the anvil of some cunning craftsman.

“That man is coming towards us, O men of Erin!” said Erc; “await him.” So they made a fence of their linked shields, and at each corner Erc made them place two of their bravest feigning to fight each other, and a satirist with each of these pairs, and he told the satirists to ask Cu Chulainn for his spear, for the sons of Calatin had prophesied of his spear that a king would be slain by it, unless it were given when demanded. And he made the men of Erin utter a great cry. And Cu Chulainn rushed against them in his chariot, performing his three thunder-feats; and he plied his spear and sword; so that the halves of their heads and skulls and hands and feet, and their red bones were scattered broadcast throughout the plain of Muirthemne, in number like to the sands of the sea and stars of heaven and dewdrops of May, flakes of snow, hailstones, leaves in the forest, buttercups on Mag Breg, and grass under the hoofs of herds on a day in summer. And gray was the field with their brains after that onslaught and plying of weapons which Cu Chulainn dealt unto them.

Then he saw one of the pairs of warriors contending together, and the satirist called on him to intervene, and Cu Chulainn leaped at them, and with two blows of his fist dashed out their brains.

“That spear to me!” said the satirist.

“I swear what my people swear,” said Cu Chulainn, “thou dost not need it more than I do. The men of Erin are upon me here and I am attacking them.”

“I will revile thee if thou givest it not,” said the satirist.

“I have never yet been reviled because of my niggardliness or my churlishness.”

With that Cu Chulainn flung the spear at him with its handle foremost, and it passed through his head and killed nine on the other side of him.

And Cu Chulainn drove through the host, but Lugaid son of Cu Roi the spear.

“What will fall by this spear, O sons of Calatin?” asked Lugaid. “A king will fall by that spear,” said the sons of Calatin. Then Lugaid flung the spear at Cu Chulainn’s chariot, and it reached the charioteer, Loeg mac Riangabra, and all his bowels came forth on the cushion of the chariot.

Then said Loeg, “Bitterly have I been wounded,” etc. Thereafter Cu Chulainn drew out the spear, and Loeg bade him farewell. Then said Cu Chulainn: “Today I shall be warrior and I shall be charioteer also.”

Then he saw the second pair contending, and one of them said it was a shame for him not to intervene. And Cu Chulainn sprang upon them and dashed them into pieces against a rock.

“That spear to me, O Cu Chulainn!” said the satirist.

“I swear what my people swear, thou dost not need the spear more than I do. On my hand and my valor and my weapons it rests today to sweep the four provinces of Erin today from the plain of Muirthemne.”

“I will revile thee,” said the satirist.

“I am not bound to grant more than one request this day, and, moreover, I have already paid for my honor.”

“I will revile Ulster for thy default,” said the satirist. “Never yet has Ulster been reviled for my refusal nor for my churlishness. Though little of my life remains to me, Ulster shall not be reviled this day.”

Then Cu Chulainn cast his spear at him by the handle and it went through his head and killed nine behind him, and Cu Chulainn drove through the host even as he had done before.

Then Erc son of Cairbre took the spear. “What shall fall by this spear, O sons of Calatin?” said Erc son of Cairbre

“Not hard to say: a king falls by that spear,” said the sons of Calatin.

“I heard you say that a king would fall by the spear which Lugaid long since cast.”

“And that is true,” said the sons of Calatin. “Thereby fell the king of the charioteers of Erin, namely Cu Chulainn’s charioteer, Loeg mac Riangabra.”

Now Erc cast the spear at Cu Chulainn, and it lighted on his horse, the Gray of Macha. Cu Chulainn snatched out the spear. And each of them bade the other farewell. Thereat the Gray of

Macha left him with half the yoke under his neck and went into the Gray’s Linn in Sliab Fuait.

Thereupon Cu Chulainn again drove through the host and saw the third pair contending, and he intervened as he had done before, and the satirist demanded his spear and Cu Chulainn at first refused it.

“I will revile thee,” said the satirist.

“I have paid for my honor today. I am not bound to grant more than one request this day.”

“I will revile Ulster for thy fault.”

“I have paid for Ulster’s honor,” said Cu Chulainn.

“I will revile thy race,” said the satirist.

“Tidings that I have been defamed shall never reach the land I have not reached. For little there is of my life remaining.~~

So Cu Chulainn flung the spear to him, handle foremost, and it went through his head and through thrice nine other men.

“‘Tie grace with wrath, O Cu Chulainn,” said the satirist.

Then Cu Chulainn for the last time drove through the host, and Lugaid took the spear, and said:

“What will fall by this spear, O sons of Calatin?”

“I heard you say that a king would fall by the spear that Erc cast this morning.”

“That is true,” said they, “the king of the steeds of Erin fell by it, namely the Gray of Macha.”

Then Lugaid flung the spear and struck Cu Chulainn, and his bowels came forth on the cushion of the chariot, and his only horse, the Black Sainglenn, fled away, with half the yoke hanging to him, and left the chariot and his master, the king of the heroes of Erin, dying alone on the plain.

Then said Cu Chulainn, “I would fain go as far as that loch to drink a drink thereout.”

“We give thee leave,” said they, “provided that thou come to us again.”

“I will bid you come for me,” said Cu Chulainn, “if I cannot come myself.”

Then he gathered his bowels into his breast, and went forth to the loch.

And there he drank his drink, and washed himself, and came forth to die, calling on his foes to come to meet him.

Now a great mearing went westwards from the loch and his eye lit upon it, and he went to a pillar-stone which is in the plain, and he put his breast-girdle round it that he might not die seated nor lying down, but that he might die standing up. Then came the men all around him, but they durst not go to him, for they thought he was alive.

“It is a shame for you,” said Erc son of Cairbre, “not to take that man’s head in revenge for my father’s head which was taken by him.”

Then came the Gray of Macha to Cu Chulainn to protect him so long as his soul was in him and the “hero’s light” out of his forehead remained. And the Gray of Macha wrought three red route all around him. And fifty fell by his teeth and thirty by each of his hoofs. This is what he slew of the host. And hence is the saying, “Not keener were the victorious courses of the Gray of Macha after Cu Chulainn’s slaughter.”

And then came the battle goddess Morrigu and her sisters in the form of scald-crows and sat on his shoulder. “That pillar Is not wont to be under birds,” said Erc son of Cairbre.

Then Lugaid arranged Cu Chulainn’s hair over his shoulder, and cut off his head. And then fell the sword from Cu Chulainn’s hand, and smote off Lugaid’s right hand, which fell on the ground. And Cu Chulainn’s right hand was cut off in revenge for this. Lugaid and the hosts then marched away, carrying with them Cu Chulainn’s bead and his right hand, and they came to Tara, and there is the “Sick-bed” of his head and his right hand, and the full of the cover of his shield of mould.

From Tara they marched southwards to the river Liffey. But meanwhile the hosts of Ulster were hurrying to attack their foes, and Conall the Victorious, driving in front of them, met the Gray of Macha streaming with blood. Then Conall knew that Cu Chulainn had been slain. And he and the Gray of Macha sought Cu Chulainn’s body. They saw Cu Chulainn at the pillar-stone. Then went the Gray of Macha and laid his head on Cu Chulalnn’s breast And Conall said, “A heavy care to the Gray of Macha is that corpse.”

And Conall followed the hosts meditating vengeance, for he was bound to avenge Cu Chulainn. For there was a comrades’ covenant between Cu Chulainn and Conall the Victorious, namely, that whichever of them was first killed should be avenged by the other. “And if I be the first killed,” Cu Chulainn had said, “how soon wilt thou avenge me?”

“The day on which thou shalt be slain,” said Conall, “I will avenge thee before that evening. And if I be slain,” said Conall, “how soon wilt thou avenge me?”

“Thy blood will not be cold on earth,” said Cu Chulainn, “before I shall avenge thee.” So Conall pursued Lugaid to the Liffey.

Then was Lugaid bathing. “Keep a lookout over the plain,” said he to his charioteer, “that no one come to us without being seen.”

The charioteer looked. “One horseman is here coming to us,” said he, “and great are the speed and swiftness with which he comes. Thou wouldst deem that all the ravens of Erin were above him. Thou wouldst deem that flakes of snow were specking the plain before him.”

“Unbeloved is the horseman that comes there,” said Lugaid. “It is Conall the Victorious, mounted on the Dewy-Red. The birds thou sawest above him are the sods from that horse’s hoofs. The snow-flakes thou sawest specking the plain before him are the foam from that horse’s lips and from the curbs of his bridle. Look again,” said Lugaid, “what road is he coming?”

“He is coming to the ford,” said the charioteer, “the path that the hosts have taken.”

“Let that horse pass us,” said Lugaid. “We desire not to fight against him.” But when Conall reached the middle of the ford be spied Lugaid and his charioteer and went to them.

“Welcome is a debtor’s face!” said Conall. “He to whom he oweth debts demands them of him. I am thy creditor for the slaying of my comrade Cu Chulainn, and here I am suing thee for this.”

They then agreed to fight on the plain of Argetros, and there Conall wounded Lugaid with his javelin. Thence they went to a place called Ferta Lugdach.

“I wish,” said Lugaid, “to have the truth of men from thee.”

“What is that?” asked ConaIl the Victorious.

“That thou shouldst use only one hand against me, for one hand only have I.”

“Thou shalt have it,” said Conall the Victorious.

So Conall’s hand was bound to his side with ropes. There for the space between two of the watches of the day they fought, and neither of them prevailed over the other. When Conall found that he prevailed not, he saw his steed the Dewy-Red by Lugaid. And the steed came to Lugaid and tore a piece out of his side.

“Woe is met” said Lugaid, “that is not the truth of men, O Conall.”

“I gave it only on my own behalf,” said Conall. “I gave it not on behalf of savage beasts and senseless things.”

“I know now,” said Lugaid, “that thou wilt not go till thou takest my head with thee, since we took Cu Chulainn’s head from him. So take,” said he, “my head in addition to thine own, and add my realm to thy realm, and my valor to thy valor. For I prefer that thou shouldst be the best hero in Erin.”

Thereat Conall the Victorious cut off Lugaid’s head. And Conall and his Ulstermen then returned to Emain Macha. That week they entered it not in triumph. But the soul of Cu Chulainn ap­peared there to the thrice fifty queens who had loved him, and they saw him floating in his phantom chariot over Emain Macha, and they heard him chant a mystic song of the coming of Christ and the Day of Doom.

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The Day The Word Fuck Disappeared

by Damian (?) Joyce via Michael Scully

The day the word fuck disappeared
Every print of Scarface melted.

The day the word fuck disappeared
The Oxford English Dictionary
Became obsolete.

The day the word fuck disappeared
D.I.Y. enthusiasts
Wore black bandages.

The day the word fuck disappeared
The word shit
Went into hiding.

The day the word fuck disappeared
Hiberno-english
Mourned an amputation.

The day the word fuck disappeared
A worrying proportion of the population
Were struck completely dumb.

The day the word fuck disappeared
Docks, building sites, housing estates,
school playgrounds, sports stadiums
and pubs Were eerily silent.

The day the word fuck disappeared
The Amalgamated Union of Asterisks
Went on strike for higher wages.

The day the word fuck disappeared
The prim and purse-lipped
Had a weak tea party and an early night.

The day the word fuck disappeared
The Collected Poems of Philip Larkin became
The Selected Poems of Philip Larkin.

The day the word fuck disappeared
A million prayers (what the fuck are you doing to me now)
Drifted a little off course.

The day the word fuck disappeared
Sex was a little more decorous.
Less fun.


Mick Scully

Mick Scully



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Don’t Worry About A Thing

Your Question for the day is : “Where did hedgehogs [heyghoge] live before there were hedges?”

Flat Fact : Hedgehogs have changed little over the last 15 million years.

Don’t worry about a thing,
‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right.
Singin’: “Don’t worry about a thing,
‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right!”

Rise up this mornin’,
Smiled with the risin’ sun,
Three little birds
Pitch by my doorstep
Singin’ sweet songs
Of melodies pure and true,
Sayin’, (“This is my message to you-ou-ou:”)

Singin’: “Don’t worry ’bout a thing,
‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right.”
Singin’: “Don’t worry (don’t worry) ’bout a thing,
‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right!”

Rise up this mornin’,
Smiled with the risin’ sun,
Three little birds
Pitch by my doorstep
Singin’ sweet songs
Of melodies pure and true,
Sayin’, “This is my message to you-ou-ou:”

Singin’: “Don’t worry about a thing, worry about a thing, oh!
Every little thing gonna be all right. Don’t worry!”
Singin’: “Don’t worry about a thing” – I won’t worry!
“‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right.”

Singin’: “Don’t worry about a thing,
‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right” – I won’t worry!
Singin’: “Don’t worry about a thing,
‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right.”
Singin’: “Don’t worry about a thing, oh no!
‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right!

Light Up The Darkness mon

Light Up The Darkness mon

So soon I got distracted,

Bob Talking about Rising Sun,

This is good though


Day & NightThe funniest home videos are here

Like Matt’s been waiting, hiding in the shadows. Poor Matt, he should really try and get out more. Matt is a friend of mine and I’ve been trying to get him off his computer and actually GO somewhere. I sent him an email : “Hey Matt! Get off your fat arse and do something ! Go on a trip somewhere. I bet your local bus could take you at least out of the neighborhood for a couple of hours.” I hadn’t heard from him for 14 months. Then he sent me this video.

I hear that everyone has a digital camera these days. With the ability to make “moving pictures”? I wonder how they will use them? I once took a picture of a friend taking a picture of me. We put them on a computer looking at each other. Pretty clever a?

Lets Slow Things Down a little. A bit of Time Out / Chill Out

I have a few Good Friends in Real Life (rl) . I have Loads of Friends on line. You might come across this site some time. This is for you and lets face it, it’s how we get by

dragonbar

Ok Be Happy….One Last Video …..Sorry

Ok Ok Ok Too E V I S C E R A L sooreee. I’ll leave you with Iz, The real one I only discovered yesterday. I knew the animated one ages ago. Here they are together. :)

Hey Jude, Take us out a here please

A Final Word From Our Sponsors:
Barack_and_Michelle_Obama_with_their_two_daughters_2008

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The Dragon Age

Another Blog its called “Here Be Dragons” and it was inspired by the new EA Game called Dragon Age Of Course Dragon Age on wordpress had gone so Dude Starship registered THEdragonage.wordpress.com (Don’t worry, I am not schizophrenic. Dude Starship is actually an Artificial Intelligence program I am working on but please don’t tell “him” that, lol)

So, any way, Its about dragons of course. But from the trailer it looks like Dragons are the bad guys. Hmmm. I suppose that in myth and legend Dragons often were the bad guys. Anyway, our Dude is a bit risqué . His opening tongue-in-cheek synopsis of the site is as follows :

“I have always been a fan of Yorkshire Terriers (Yorkies). They are energetic and playful. They taste so yummy with falafel beans.”

Perhaps you better watch the video…..


The site is EXTREMELY RUDE and IS NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN. Bad language abounds but you will find the “porn” very funny.

I requested that the site be reviewed by Wordpress. They did so and removed the “Offensive” items.

The producers motto is “For those who love porn but hate the sex” :) So, but as I said if you do not like explicit language DO NOT VISIT THE SITE!

I love graphics as you may have guessed. It is the artist in me (in us all). So I manipulated this :

Picture taken by a USAF pilot over Taipei on 11th November 2009

Picture taken by a USAF pilot over Taipei on 11th November 2009

I’ll do more but that took about 3 hours and it could be better.

btw this is Kim:

Kim Karddashian

Kim Karddashian

  • and among the many disturbing tidbits, there was mention of EA spending 66-75% of a game’s budget just on advertising. First off, no wonder so many EA titles are trash, secondly, I wonder how many copies Dragon Age is going to have to sell to even break even. Millions, apparently.
  • Is that really necessary, such expensive advertising? Surely there must be cheaper ways…Take TV ads for example – what do they add? I have never bought a game because of a TV ad. It’s mostly reviews, magazine ads, promotional videos from the website and, if available, a playable demo. Those are the things that sell games, besides word-of-mouth.
  • that don’t include Dragon Age. RPG’s have always been off in a corner kind of by themselves. They’re not really hardcore games and don’t appeal to most twitch gamers. They’re not casual games by any stretch and don’t appeal to most casual gamers.
  • Well, yes Dragon Age can be considered a niche game, definitely more of a hardcore gamer’s game than EA Sports Franchise Sequel 20xx, but it made me wonder if the same marketing/financing strategy hasn’t been applied to Dragon Age also? They have been doing various advertising campaigns for months. This is the new *** after all. It’s sort of a moot point now, but I just found it annoying that so much has changed (for the worse, in my opinion) in gaming in the past 10-15 years.
  • sad about gaming in general. I begin to feel like the people who made up the core of gamers 10 or 15 years ago are going to be left behind, with no one caring about them as the developers all chase the money of the “casuals.” Also…”The hardcore are the ones who spend 20 hours or more a week on games and who are fans of professional game players who compete for prizes and money.” WTH? I’d consider myself hardcore, but the idea of being a fan of “professional game players” is ludicrous to me (the whole idea of “professional game players” is ludicrous too, as far as I’m concerned.) That said, I doubt that sort of ad blitz will happen with Dragon Age. I know I haven’t seen a single ad on a non-gaming site/TV station (actually haven’t seen any “ads” on TV, but there have been features on G4 and the like.)
  • …Well, I have fun.

…Oh and if you like games, sorry it is a bit rude but it will make you smile, especially if you are old.


Video Games from MUSCLEBEAVER on Vimeo.

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Only Dragons Live Forever

Only Dragons Live Forever

by

Drue Fairlie

The phone had rung at ten past five in the morning, summoning me from a restless sleep. It had been my brother uttering the words I so dreaded and yet expected.

“It’s Dad,” was all he had said. Just those two words conveying more meaning than an entire speech. I knew without asking what he meant. My father had died.

“Ok,” I’d replied, all trace of sleep vanishing instantly.

Once I had hung up, I got up and made myself a tea. It’s strange the way habits take over in a time of crisis. Find out you have a major illness, make a tea. Break up with a woman, make a tea. Lose a loved one, make a tea. But make a tea I did. And then I sat there in the predawn light and thought about my father. The things we had done, seen, and shared. A whole lifetime flashed before my eyes in the time it took for the sun to rise.

Like the time I was six years old and we had stood on the cliffs that overlooked our hometown and watched water spouts race across the channel, one of the rarest things a man can see, and I saw them with my father. There had been three of them, none of them taller than a meter, but all so very real in my memory.

Then the time we had gone to a museum in a nearby town flashed into my mind. Now that had been a strange day. Dad had been so excited about taking me there; just so I could see the guardian of the museum doors – a huge stuffed polar bear. I can see it now, all twelve feet of it rearing above me in all its splendour and glory, staring down with claws out and a permanent roar etched on its fearsome face.

I had been so afraid but my father had been there to protect me, something he had always done, but something I had until now never realised. It’s strange that the true heroes of one’s life are invisible until they are gone.

And then unbidden into my mind came the funny things my father had done. I  hadn’t wanted to laugh then, in fact, thought I’d never laugh again. But as we all know, that is never the case. I smiled as I remembered the time when my brother and I had been kids and Dad had pretended to be unconscious when he had been fighting with us. The time our car caught fire and like a stricken World War II bomber we had just barely made it home with smoke pouring from beneath the bonnet.

All these thoughts raced through my mind making me laugh, making me cry, and making me remember. And then I recalled the time I had spent with him in the hospice. The roles were reversed then, the son caring for the father. Weeks I had spent with him, just the two of us and the night.

The things we talked about and the things we shared. I learned more in those few weeks about him than I had in the lifetime before. We talked about everything and nothing: God, death, life, and my own children. And things that even now I can’t bring myself to share with anyone.

We read a book together, well I read, and he listened. A book that we never finished and one that I have never found again. I watched him grow thinner and thinner as his time grew close but I’ve never been prouder of anyone in my life. He met death with courage and humour and with a quiet dignity that was humbling to watch.

All these thoughts and more swirled in my mind, images of childhood and fun. Images of adulthood and responsibility. But through it all he had been there with a quiet word, a quick comment, a sudden burst of dry humour. But now all that was gone, never to be heard again. It was with a heavy hand that I picked up the phone and dialed my girlfriend.Thankfully, I didn’t even have to speak.
“He’s gone,” she said, her voice as soft and loving as ever.
“Yes,” I answered, more to hear my own voice than to answer her question.
“I miss him already,” she said, her voice full of tears.
“Me too,” I said, unable to think of anything more to add.
“Call me later, if and when you can.” As always, she knew the right thing to say and the right thing to do.

Then she was gone and I was alone again with my thoughts. And once more I was a child going to the zoo with my father to see all the marvelous animals. I was standing there holding his huge hand in mine again as we saw a tiger up on its hind legs, its giant form pressed against the enclosure. I wasn’t afraid. How could anything hurt me while my father was holding my hand?

We saw so many things together, shared so many memories, things that to anyone else would be meaningless but to me meant the world. I cried as I showered and I cried as I dressed and I cried as I left my flat to meet my brothers and do what had to be done, to view the shell that lay in a hospital bed, empty and void.

Our father was gone and yet he lived in the three of us, each of us with our own memories of him, each with our own pain and sorrow. And yet each with a shared relief that his pain was over and he was at rest. I missed him then and I miss him now. But something he said to me when I was a child comes back to me as a man, something that doesn’t give me comfort, but does make me remember him and his stories, of which there were more than a few: “Son,” he would say, “only dragons live forever.”

Drue Fairlie lives in Lowestoft, Suffolk and has been writing for three years. His work has been published in several e-zines. Drue is a newlywed as of June, for the second time.

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The Internet

Hi Graham, Hi Gill, Hi Inty
Change Your Mind ~ Change The World

Alan Emtage, (born November 27, 1964) conceived and implemented the first version of Archie, a pre-Web internet search engine for locating material in public FTP archives.

  • The author originally wanted to call the program “archives,” but had to shorten it to comply with the Unix world standard of assigning programs and files short, cryptic names such as grep, cat, troff, sed, awk, perl, and so on.

A native of Barbados, and the son of Sir Stephen and Lady Emtage, he attended high school at Harrison College from 1975 to 1983 (and in 1981 becoming the owner of a Sinclair ZX81 with 1K of memory), where he graduated at the top of his class, winning the Barbados Scholarship.


ZX 81

I cycled across London to get 16k of RAM upgrade

In 1983 he entered McGill University in Montreal, Canada studying for an honors Bachelor’s degree in computer science which was followed by a Master’s degree in 1987 from which he graduated in 1991. Emtage was part of the team that brought the first Internet link to eastern Canada (and only the second link in the country) in 1986. In 1989 while a student and working as a systems administrator for the School of Computer Science, Emtage conceived and implemented the original version of the Archie search engine, the world’s first Internet search engine and the start of a line which leads directly to today’s Altavista, Yahoo!, and Google.

45 years old in a couple of weeks.




Some Stats:

  • 105,170,327 active web surfers in the US
  • In Europe 105,096,093
  • Asia 704,213,930 Internet users
  • Latin America and The Caribbean 175,834,439

I make that 2,180,629,578 oh, and I’ve got two computers so 2,180,629,579.

To Get The Ball Rolling……





Fight! Fight! Fight!

Fight! Fight! Fight!

C O N I F I G U R A T I O N

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