2001apr13. Lyrics to Goldfinger. Shirley Bassey, 1964.
[trumpets: wah wah WAHHHHH!!!]
Gold ... .FINGERRRR!!!
He’s the man
The man with the finger made of gold ...
THE FINGER MADE OF GOLD!!!!
Gold ... FINGERRRRRRrrrRRRR!!!
He’s got a finger
That APPARENTLY CONSISTS OF SOLID GOLD!!!
He’s still got
That GOLD FINGER!
It’s GOLD! GOLD GOLD GOLD!!!
[trumpets: WAAAAHHHHH!!!!! WAAAAAHHHH!!!! etc]
It’s made of GOLD!!!
His finger is made of GOLD!!!
It’s VERY COLD!!!!!!
[spoken] Yes, he was Goldfinger. A man with a finger made of gold. But in the end, he just wanted to be loved, exactly like everybody else in this madcap, rinky-dink world. Is that asking too much? Is it too much to ask to love a man with a finger made of gold? You ask yourself this question. [drums: BOOM boom.]
2001apr18. When there is great turmoil in my life, I will occasionally have dreams of large ships sinking or planes doing barrel rolls. Tonight it was a plane. But it was some sort of super experimental plane, being flown on a business-class run. The pilot hot-dogged it the whole time, over a hundred barrel rolls. Some people decided to buckle up after barrel roll #20. The distrubing part was that he dropped me off at my non-existent futuristic office suite. I mean, he pulled out of barrel roll #147, parked next to my office, and walked me to the front door.
“But I was going to Hawaii!”
“It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”
2001apr20. I was wondering, earlier today, what would happen if all the cops in America just vanished. “Nobody would miss ‘em, really.” But then I thought about it awhile and no, actually, parents would probably be pretty upset. Then I drew my little map.
I think maybe I should turn over a few more of the plain states over to the breeders, but this is just a rough outline right now.
2001apr22. The Scripps-Booth Bi-Autogo, a 3200-pound motorcycle. The two balancing wheels would lift up after cruising speed was attained. The pictures on the web don’t really do justice to the stunning design. More information here, here, there, also under here, and way over there.
2001apr23. Phrases That Make You Retch #17: Customer Delight. I’m not your “customer,” and you will never, ever even get close to “delighting” me or any other human with an IQ over 40, so shut your damned pastry receptacle, take me off of hold, and fix my inane problem with your ugly, inept product and/or service.
2001apr24. Amendment IV. The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.
2001apr25. Don’t know if you’ve been smacked in the face with this pop-up lately. Apparently it’s fooling the entire world. ... .
Sure, pop-ups, we’ve seen ‘em before. But this one, to a lot of people, probably looks like a real gosh-darn message from their very own pc, especially in this surreptitious format. Fine, I figured, just find out where it’s coming from, and put the server in my ban list (explained below). Unfortunately it was on a site with five thousand different advertisements, so it took me awhile to pluck the bad boy from the bunch. It looks like this:
blah blah href='http://ad-adex3.flycast.com/server/ rmclick/qpV9AAAAAAC0dQEDAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA BAAAABAAAAFdRUGQAAAAA/$HCLICKURL$http://www.colonize. com/flycast5.php3?aid=f1' target='_top' blah blah blah src='http://a1.g.akamai.net/7/1/2924/0/jeeves. flycast.com/rich/27/04/50427316/onemessageblink.gif' border='0' height='60' width='468' blah blahIt kind of makes me dizzy. Akamai, Flycast, Colonize, all friendly friends. I haven’t really been keeping up with all the mergers in the execrable online advertising world. Anyway, if you get snookered and click on that link, it throws you over to colonize.com, where they’ve got an infinite amount of questions for you. It starts out with this nice little certificate. ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN DOLLAR SPREE?!??! NOW HOW MUCH WOULD YOU PAY? Anyway, I punched their own email address into the email field and was whisked away to a telemarketer’s wet dream. Pages upon pages of check boxes and radio ads – do you want to consolidate your debts? How much did you make last year? How about a free Dr. Seuss rectal thermometer? Maxim magazine – always a crowd pleaser. I couldn’t keep up with all of the questions so I signed up for everything.
Colonize.com claims they “deliver over 250 million opt-in emails every month!” Yep, that’s right, every month the entire population of the United States wants more spam sent to them. I suppose if you try every trick in the book (“sign up a friend!”), you get big numbers.
Enough of this nonsense. For a large number of you, here is a quick-and-painless way to get rid of this asinine pop-up ad.
If you’re on a PC, edit a file in your windows/desktop called “hosts.”If there’s already text there, add this line. If not, just go ahead and type it anyway.
[if this doesn’t work try 127.0.0.0]
save the file.
That’s it. For more information, and for a list of more ad servers to ban, go here.
Oh, sometimes, instead of the “message waiting” pop-up, you get this pop-up. “The service that prevents junk mail” – just give us your email address and we’ll send you tons of crap and enter you in a contest. Delightful.
2001apr26. It’s not the camera. It’s the $271 fine for running a red light here in sunny California. Watch for this exciting new technology in your own neighborhood!
2001apr26. Spam Luncheon Meat mobile. According to the schedule, today the Spammobile is at Fort Knox. You know, if I were the government, I’d shoot myself in the head. No! I mean, I’d keep an eye on that wiley Spammobile today.
2001apr27. The air near my bed smells like cake. Sure, at first, it’s a nice thing, but after awhile, it’s like living next-door to a candy factory – you can smell it, but you can’t have it. So your pleasant, happy cake thoughts (“ahhh, cake!”) turn rancid. “Freaking cake air!” “If I smell one more *!&%# slice of cake, I’m going to knife someone in the shoulder!”
CAKE SMELLS LED TO VIOLENCE, SAY EXPERTS
“Ding dong! Yoo hoo!”
“Oh, it’s the Spammobile!”
“Hello, boys, would you care for some tasty, delicious Spam?"
“Thank you ma’am. That’s mighty kind of you, but we’re on guard duty.”
“Oh, I think you’ll want this slice of Spam ... “
[The Spammobile driver removes a mini-gun from inside the proffered can. There is a short and strange explosion of motion – hands, feet, guns, small Spam keys, glistening pinkish meat. The guards are incapacitated]
“Okay, Johnnie, clear those cans out. Other Johnnie, you come with me, we’re got a date with Fort Knox-type gold.”