A Tribute to Dogmeat from Fallout 3

Oh Dogmeat. I used to love the way you played with piles of bottlecap mines, bouncing off of the stratosphere and flipping your way into the horizon.

"Where did you go?" I often wonder. Are you having adventures, or helping those in need?

Nah. You probably just scared the all living shit out of some wastelander as you screamed on by at about mach 3, splattering into bloody chunks as you took out what's left of the washington monument.

I miss you ol' pal...

Which Hogwarts house are you?

I'm a Hufflepuff!

http://m.youtube.com/#/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=y0Z5_wipT2o&desktop_uri=%2Fwatch%3Ffeature%3Dplayer_embedded%26v%3Dy0Z5_wipT2o

Internet Hiatus for a bit...

I think I'm going to stay off the internet for a while and spend time with my kids. Talk to you all in a while.

Busking on the Digital Streetcorner

Wether it's music, painting, making barrels, or telling diarhea jokes, honing skills in one's craft and producing things for you to enjoy and/or use takes time and a considerable amount of effort. If you enjoy what someone's producing, send some money their way.

This is the age of the creative commons. Artists are now buskers on the streetcorner of the internet. If they can make a living creating the things you enjoy instead of working a day job, they can make more for you, faster, and cheaper than a major publisher. Given enough capital, they can even release that cheaper product with just as much polish.

You both win. :)

Craptastic Tuesday

I got one of those Facebook things from a friend asking me to put two things together to make my  superhero name. This is what came of it:

"Because of events this past Tuesday, I think I may already know what my superpower is. I was pooping like, every 10 to 20 minutes for 23 hours, and I don't think a normal human can do that without serious permanent damage.


Technically, you can't really call it poop, per se. Brimstone it's more the word, if in fact brimstone enters this world through a portal in my rectum leading straight to hell. Judging by the sulfurous stank and the scorch marks on the toilet and my poor, tortured sphincter... I'm pretty sure it does.

The dudes from Supernatural even showed up to sprinkle my smoking star with salt, and practice their mantra to exorcise the demons. At least I think it was them, and not some random salt sprinkling pervy types. They were mostly behind me, so I can't really say for sure what was going on. I'm better now though, so... Whatever works I guess.

It was not an ideal Tuesday."