Blasphemy

I’m probably the last Mac blogger to mention this, but I just couldn’t let it pass by. There are special circles of Hell reserved for people who do this

[Update: Turns out that it’s a hoax. The page on Overclockers.com has been updated with an e-mail from the person behind this explaining that they got an empty G5 shell and decided to have some fun. Whew! Nice troll. ;)]{.underline}

I got a shiny new Apple G5 for Christmas. I loved the case, but I’m no Mac user. So I….

  • Get a brand new dual processor G5, then
  • Rip out everything,
  • Cut out the back of the case so I can use a PC motherboard, and
  • Install an Athlon motherboard.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure G5 is a great computer, but I wanted a Dell for Christmas. I don’t have any programs for Apple and didn’t feel like waiting for them. I thought about selling it, but my parents would be upset with me. After all, this was a very expensive gift and it meant a lot to them to give to me.

It’s a good thing my parents don’t know anything about computers, because I’m sure they would be really angry if they knew what I did. I have to say that I’m happy – I can keep on using XP.

![The monstrosity]

[The monstrosity]: https://michaelhans.com/eclecticism/2004/01/graphics/G5_wreck_1.jpg {width=”363″ height=”143″}

(via lots of people, but the picture was shamelessly ganked from Lane)

iTunes: “Let Your Body Die (Television Overdose Overdosed)” by Cyber-Tec from the album Cyber-Tec (1995, 6:29).

Fire!

My first indication that something was going on was hearing the sound of emergency vehicles from the street outside my window. Not an entirely unusual thing, but normally they’ll pass on by — hearing the blast of sirens combined with the compression of air brakes got my attention. Going to my window, I looked down the four stories to the street and saw fire trucks all over the place — one heading down the street to the west of our building (the Park Seneca apartment), another diagonally across the intersection of 8th and Seneca, a Fire Department blazer parked on the lawn of Town Hall, and I could see reflections from another set of emergency lights in the window of the building across the street.

As I looked up across the street at the people looking out their windows, I realized that one window had three women in it, waving to get my attention and pointing towards the far end of my building. Leaning out to look that direction, I saw smoke pouring around the corner of the building — not a good sign. Waving my thanks, I tossed on a pair of pants and went out into the hallway — but nothing seemed to be terribly amiss. No smoke, and none of the doors seemed warm as I pressed my hand against them working my way down the hall.

Smoke from next door

Starting to wonder if it was the Jensonia Hotel next door, I tried to slide the window at the end of the hallway up, only to have it fall off in my hands. A little startling, and I almost lost my balance, but once I set it down and looked out the window, I saw the source of the smoke. An old chimney on the Jensonia was belching out wave after wave of thick, black smoke. Obviously something had caught fire next door — not a happy thought, but happier than if it had been my building. I wedged the window back into place, came back into my apartment and sat back down.

Then the fire alarm in our building went off.

My lord those things are loud.

Quickly I pulled on socks, shoes, and a sweater, tossed my coat on, and headed back out into the hall, just in time to be passed by three of the firemen. “Where’s the fire?” they asked.

“Next door.”

“What?”

Firemen in the hall“Here — there’s smoke pouring out of the chimney next door.” I and another tenant who’d come out of his apartment showed the firemen to the window, pulling it back out of the casement again so they could see the source of the smoke. They radioed down to the rest of their crew, some of whom were already investigating the building next door, and I headed downstairs to the street.

Heading down the stairs, I had to laugh a bit. Seeing the ladder from a fire truck extended to the roof of your building outside your hallway window just isn’t an everyday sight (thank goodness)!

Fire truck with extended ladderOut on the street, I joined a small crowd of other tenants who’d also evacuated. Most of them didn’t know what was going on, so I filled them in on what little I knew while we waited. After a few minutes, the firemen were sufficiently convinced that our building was safe after all to give us all permission to head back in. Unfortunately, the fire alarm was still merrily wailing away — the switch to turn it off is behind a locked door, and our on-site property manager has a second job and wasn’t at the building, and nobody had her emergency contact number on them. We all stood around watching the firemen assigned to our building pack up and maneuver their equipment out of the street (ever seen a fire truck parallel park before?) while they decided what to do next.

Eventually, the simplest solution seemed the best, and a few of the firemen went down to the basement to force open the door to the sprinkler system. A few moments later, the alarm stopped, and we all started filtering back in.

Hose attached to the standpipeBefore going back in, another tenant and I asked the firemen just what had gone on. It turns out that there was a small (but very smoky) boiler fire next door that sent smoke right up the old chimney. Because of the rain and slight breeze, though, it sent the smoke nearly sideways over our building, so that as they were driving up the street towards us it looked like there was a huge blaze coming up right from our roof. They figure it was probably when they hooked their hose to our building’s standpipe and started pumping water into it that our alarm got triggered.

So. That was my morning. How was yours?

Here we go again…

From Business 2.0‘s 101 Dumbest Moments in Business for 2003:

36: Think they’ll buy the April Fool’s joke thing again? Nah, better go with the bit about the top-secret location.

Michael Hanscom, a temp worker at Microsoft’s in-house print shop, is fired after posting to his blog a photo that showed workers at the facility taking delivery of several Apple G5 computers. His supervisor insists that Hanscom was fired not for showing the company relying on the product of its chief rival, but for revealing the location of one of its shipping and receiving departments.

(via BoingBoing)

Update: CNN has summarized this article (along with the my mention). Thanks to Jon for pointing it out!

Look out, Bush

From Daily Kos’ look at the results of yesterday’s New Hampshire primaries (I’ve updated and expanded it with the final reported numbers):

The best story of the night? The one that should unite us all? From the Republican primary results:

Bush 53,749
Kerry 1,420
Dean 974
Clark 851
Edwards 808
Lieberman 511
Kucinich 28
Braun 15
Gephardt 14
Sharpton 11

That’s 4632 registered Republicans who wrote in a Democrat in their ballot.

That’s got to scare the shit out of Rove.

Meanwhile, Kerry again took the top spot, with Dean in second this time. Still a lot more primaries and possible jostling to come, though.

One cookie = $10 billion

TrueMajority.org has a nicely effective flash animation posted using Oreo cookies to demonstrate how easy it really could be to fund social needs and keep our military budget at a resonable level.

oreobudget.jpg

This is one of the most effective pieces of political advocacy I’ve ever seen. Ben Cohen, the Ben of Ben and Jerry’s Ice Cream, narrates a short Flash movie for TrueMajority.org, in which he explains — using Oreo cookies — the way that the federal budget is currently apportioned, and how little rearrangement would be necessary to renew all of America’s social programs. The examples are vivid and charming, and the logic is compelling.

(via BoingBoing)

Pedometer

jeanniecool: pedometer measures how many children you touch inappropriately…?

— jeanniecool on [#joiito]

iTunes: “Bad Luck” by Social Distortion from the album Somewhere Between Heaven and Hell (1992, 4:26).

Living my dreams

For years, as I was growing up, I’d watch various sci-fi near-future films like Freejack, Strange Days, or any number of others where at some point in the movie, for one reason or another (quite likely more for a good soundtrack and/or good eye candy than for any reason really related to the plot) the main character would have to go into a dance club. The club would invariably be dimly lit, hazy, reverberating with pounding electronic beats, and packed wall-to-wall with beautiful people in incredible outfits that were usually some variation of leather or vinyl, often titillating or outright revealing.

I’d always see these scenes and replay them over and over in my head or on tape when they were released for rent, drinking up every detail. These were the clubs I wanted to go to. I wanted to be one of those people, walking through the crowds, relishing the mix of dark sensuality and sexuality that the scenes presented. Where in the movies, these scenes were usually played to put the main character (and, by extension, the audience) out of their element and at some level ill at ease, all I wanted to do was step through the screen and join in the party.

Anchorage being Anchorage, of course, for me it was nothing more than a fantasy. I did my best to find the music, and didn’t to too terribly shabbily — in junior high, when nearly everyone I knew was listening to Whitney Houston, DeBarge, and Bon Jovi on the pop stations, I was digging through the racks of tapes in the store to find Men Without Hats, Shriekback, and Depeche Mode. The only songs on the radio at that period that ever really caught my ear are those that now often get lumped into the “New Wave” category — Pet Shop Boys, Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark, and so on. Soft Cell hit big with ‘Tainted Love‘, and I discovered that the rest of that album, Non Stop Erotic Cabaret, was far more interesting than that simple pop song, with gems such as ‘Seedy Films’ and ‘Sex Dwarf‘ finding their way into my world.

I just want to quickly say how insanely impressed I am with how many of the artists I’ve mentioned in this post are available on the iTunes Music Store. Sometimes it’s just an album or a few songs, but almost every one of these links is a working iTMS link, and even though many of these artists are the more “popular” artists of the alternative scene, I’m still quite surprised that I found as many as I did. Kudos to Apple and the music companies both. As the years went on, I continued to focus only lightly on pop, finding myself drawn more and more into the worlds of ‘alternative’ and industrial music. Siouxsie and the Banshees, Bauhaus, Ministry, The Cure, Primus, The Violent Femmes, Nitzer Ebb, Sisters of Mercy, Peter Murphy, Love and Rockets, My Life With the Thrill Kill Kult — here was the music that meant something to me. Not the processed pablum that the top-40 radio stations tried desperately to convince us that we had to buy, but the darker, twisted, charged, sometimes violent but often tongue-in-cheek wierdness that would never be popular. I loved it all.

So I’d found the music. To give Anchorage its credit, we tried the clubs. The first I ever found was Sharkey’s, a split-level non-alcoholic teen club with top-40 and hip-hop upstairs and alternative and industrial down in the basement. It was the perfect introduction to that world for me. Suddenly, I discovered that even in Anchorage, there were more people like me, and every weekend, this unfinished basement of a building in downtown Anchorage would fill with all the rest of Anchorage’s burgeoning alternative population. There was a big concrete support pillar right in the middle of the dance floor, and while most of the time it just stood there, any time a good ‘mosh’ song started pounding out of the speakers — Ministry‘s ‘Jesus Built my Hotrod‘, for example — suddenly there’d be a mass of people circling around and around the floor, with the pole at the center of the circle, all of us building up momentum until someone got crazy enough to turn around and suddenly start pushing through the opposite direction. Sure, there were occasional bruises when bodies collided, but never any violence, and it was all in fun — we knew exactly what we were in for, and if someone ever tripped and fell or got knocked down, immediately there were arms and hands all around hauling them back up and tossing them right back in the press.

Eventually, Sharkey’s closed, and Anchorage worked its way through club after club. I was fortunate enough to be the DJ at quite a few of them in the 1990’s, and some of my fondest memories from my time in Anchorage are from those days. Standing in the DJ booth, looking out over a sea of bodies dancing and having fun, watching people try to leave the dance floor only to have them run right back on when the next song came on, laughing as they cursed me with a grin on their face because I wouldn’t let them rest. Feeling the energy of the club at its peak — watching the bodies move, knowing that they were there, dancing and having fun because I was giving them what they wanted, getting the charge off of the atmosphere. It’s almost indescribable, but I would leave the club every night incredibly amped, feeling like I’d taken all the energy generated over the course of the night and pulled it all into me, channelling it from the dance floor, though me, back into the music and back into the people on the floor.

Of course, all good things must come to an end, and as times and trends changed, what was left of the alternative scene in Anchorage finally gave up the ghost. Some people had grown and gone on to other things, others had left the state seeking bigger and better things, others had just disappeared into their own lives. Not long after that, I decided it was time to follow my own paths outside of Alaska, and I packed my bags and left, moving down to Seattle.

And here, finally, in a sense, we come full circle. In Seattle, I’ve found the things that had originally started me down these long and winding roads. Not only do I still have all the music that has found its way into my collection over the years, but after a long work week when the weekend rolls around, I can head out and immerse myself in crowds like those in the movies that had caught my eye for so many years. Going to the Vogue on the weekends is very much like I’d imagined these clubs could be all so long ago — the music, the people, and oh, yes, the outfits! The club isn’t as expansive or as lavish as those in the movies (this is the real world, after all, and not a big-budget film), but it has all the right elements, with the definite added bonus of being real, and not just a short sequence on film in a dark theater.

Sunday nights are ‘fetish night‘ at the Vogue. Most Sundays, as I’ve mentioned before, this just means that things are a bit less ‘tourist’ friendly, and you’re more likely to see the more extreme outfits on display (and sometimes, there’s not much to display at all). Occasionally, though, there will be special events going on, like tonight’s presentations by Blue Dungeon. Three times during the night, the floor and stages were cleared, and Mistress Blue and her troupe took over with demonstrations. While I’m not a fetishist myself, the performances are a lot of fun to watch, and everyone involved obviously enjoys what they do (and have done). Once the shows were done, the music came back up, and the floor was once again filled with people out having fun, dancing, flirting, and enjoying themselves.

Tonight, as I left the dance floor and stood against the wall, I had to smile. Years ago, things like this were nothing more than a fantasy, something I’d seen and knew that I wanted to be a part of, but didn’t have the opportunities to take advantage of. Now, though, it’s a fantasy no longer, but a world that I’m part of. A small part, perhaps — while I can go out onto an empty dance floor and dance until I exhaust myself, I’m all too often painfully shy when it comes to actually talking to anyone, and so have met only a few people over the past two years of putting an appearance most weekends — but a part none the less.

And try as I might, when all’s said and done, that’s cooler than I can really put into words.

iTunes: “Cuz It’s Hot (12″)\” by My Life With the Thrill Kill Kult from the album Black Box (1990, 10:17).

You have to wonder about the gift shop…

Something for a list of places to go should I ever visit Los Angeles: the brand spanking (ahem) new sex museum.

One look at Hollywood’s newest tourist attraction and it’s easy to mistake it for any number of adult shops along the popular Walk of Fame.

The nude pictures, sex toys and stag films aren’t meant to arouse but to edify. This is, after all, the Erotic Museum, which pays tribute to all things sexual, from the tame to the tawdry.

It chronicles sex through the ages with nude abstracts by Pablo Picasso, erotic jade figurines from ancient China, vintage sex toys and sultry computer-animated dancers.

For nearly \$13 for the price of admission, visitors can touch rubber toys or peruse patent applications for various oddball erotic inventions such as a diagram of a newfangled “female security device.” No one under 18 is admitted.

(via Prairie)

iTunes: “Dirty Epic” by Underworld from the album Dubnobasswithmyheadman (1994, 9:55).

The Joys of McDonalds

Eeeewwwww.

LAST February, Morgan Spurlock decided to become a gastronomical guinea pig.

His mission: To eat three meals a day for 30 days at McDonald’s and document the impact on his health.

Scores of cheeseburgers, hundreds of fries and dozens of chocolate shakes later, the formerly strapping 6-foot-2 New Yorker – who started out at a healthy 185 pounds – had packed on 25 pounds.

But his supersized shape was the least of his problems.

Within a few days of beginning his drive-through diet, Spurlock, 33, was vomiting out the window of his car, and doctors who examined him were shocked at how rapidly Spurlock’s entire body deteriorated.

His liver became toxic, his cholesterol shot up from a low 165 to 230, his libido flagged and he suffered headaches and depression.

Over the course of the [month], Spurlock [was] regularly examined by a gastroenterologist, a cardiologist and SoHo-based general practitioner Dr. Daryl Isaacs.

“He was an extremely healthy person who got very sick eating this McDonald’s diet,” Dr. Isaacs told The Post.

“None of us imagined he could deteriorate this badly – he looked terrible. The liver test was the most shocking thing – it became very, very abnormal.”

Spurlock, who says he ate at McDonald’s only sporadically before his total immersion in the Mickey D’s menu, says he even began craving fat and sugar fixes between meals.

“I got desperately ill,” he says. \”My face was splotchy and I had this huge gut, which I’ve never had in my life.

“My knees started to hurt from the extra weight coming on so quickly. It was amazing – and really frightening.”

Just disturbing.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a sudden craving for a Double Quarter-Pounder with Cheese. ;)

(via Kottke)

iTunes: “Get Off My Land” by Operatica from the album O Vol. 1 (2000, 5:05).