perfidy

Wait...not prone to seething rants and anger...? Well, I'm skeptical then of this quiz' accuracy. But since the code didn't need to be unfucked, I'm going with it.

For reasons that seemed appropriate at the time, my wife's online shopping excursion led her into one of the darker and stranger corners of the interweb. She returned, scarred and weary, bearing this. Mother Earth Shopping is offering for sale, The Scythe Book, 2nd ed. At first, I am intrigued. Scythes, you say? Until I read the blurb:

Instead of trying to find time to workout at the local gym, this book tells how you can get a healthful workout while silently mowing your property using a scythe.

Get in shape while (silently) looking like bathouse, squirrelbait crazy. If I tried to mow my lawn with a scythe, I'd likely be arrested before I finished the front. I wonder, if Mother Jones started to offer books together as packages like Amazon, what they would mate up with this gem? How to make you own very large black cloak from pocket lint? Death and You, Mythology and Holistic Home Gardening? For every one indisputably cool thing that Mother Earth might have, there are a thousand of these boners.

From the left sidebar of a Reuters story entitled "Court says $32,000 is too much to fondle bosom", this picture:

Subtitled thusly:

A bra designed by actress Jennifer Aniston is shown at Sotheby's auction house in New York, April 8, 2003. A fee of 25,500 euros ($32,000) is way too much for a woman to charge a man for fondling her bosom, a Finnish district court ruled.

I can see why someone, even at a supposedly serious news organization would think about putting that picture of a Jennifer Aniston-designed bra into the sidebar of a story such as that mentioned above. I remember my high-school days, when such a juxtaposition would be considered not only snidely funny, but mandatory.

However, based on the fact that neither Ms. Aniston nor her objectively ugly creation actually has anything to do with the story, I fail to see why someone at a supposedly serious news organization would actually do so, even in a story section entitled "Oddly Enough".

Discuss.

GeekLethal reminded me to do something with a pic I'd had cluttering up my file system.

Make your own demotivational posters here.

Today, discover where you are on the normal-autistic spectrum. Are you a candidate for Asperger's syndrome? Do you bang your head on the wall a lot? Find out what it all means!

For the purposes of full disclosure, here are my official, scientific results:

Your Aspie score: 78 of 200
Your neurotypical (non-autistic) score: 138 of 200
You are very likely neurotypical

In honor of the International Talk Like a Pirate Day, we give you the find your pirate name quiz. My pirate gnomen is bland, but acceptable:

Black John Read

Like anyone confronted with the harshness of robbery on the high seas, you can be pessimistic at times. Even through many pirates have a reputation for not being the brightest souls on earth, you defy the stereotypes. You've got taste and education. Arr!

The sickest celebration in our civilization has just begun, an annual get-down so intense, so loud, so full of people, fluids, and animatronic lions, one must surely weep or, if you're not the weepin' kind, urinate. New Year's Eve in Time's Square, your wanna-be Animal House frat brothers, and surely your jerkoff cousins' lame parties are all eye candy by comparison.

It's September, people. September in Bavaria.

And that means Oktoberfest.

Oktober-fucking-fest.

At no time is the scent of beer stronger than the Munich autumn. The fest beer flows like water...who am I kidding?...it flows better than water. The Theresienwiese will be thronged with visitors, so many that they will quaff 1/3 of the annual production of Munich's six big brewers. There are also plenty of other brews from around Germany (myself, I'll take a nice Werner hefe-weissen wherever I can find one, although those are better with food, I find, and not conducive to the burly 1-liter mugs ubiquitous under the fest tents). Plenty of spirits are readily available of course, as are carnival rides for the kiddies. As are adults who went on those rides after they washed down their 4th stein of lager with a nice smooth Ratzeputz shot and end up vomiting in shady corners, contributing their own personal and intimate colors and bits of stomach lining to the already festive blues, whites, and yellows of the tents.

Ah...Oktoberfest. Ahhhhktoberfest.

I am not there, so I am wrong.

But at the very least, maybe I can talk Lady Lethal into a dirndl. She'd make St. Pauli's girl look like a tired Bremen sea-hag.

I had often thought that I was a nice guy. Rather non-demonic in the general run of things. It seems, though, that I was wrong. My inner demon is not a little boy, but rather:

You scored as Dareigeo, Demon of Rage and Death.

You are Dareigeo, Demon of Rage and Death. You are a demon who will kill your victims with the most violent and gruesome methods ever imagined. You like to rip off your prey's body parts and inflict excruciating pain, but only to let them die slowly while you enjoy every second of their misery.

[wik] I am sick and tired of editing the descriptions on these quizzes. Perhaps if I ripped a few of them limb from limb - you know, pour encouragement les autres - I would need to less of that.

[alsø wik] I guess I'll have to give up hope of ever being Beelzebubba.

Without having had my cockles warmed for several days now- and I loathe cold cockles- I thought I'd have a look at gauging my own evil. Not only is there a quiz for it, your personal evil has a name:

You scored as Xeohelios, Demon of Cunning and Manipulation.

You are Xeohelios, Demon of Cunning and Manipulation. You are an intelligent being who kills his victims in unique and unusual ways. You often have others do your dirty work for you by manipulating them. You rarely dirty your hands with killing, but have many people killed.

And the only times you do this yourself is when you have a personal issue with them. (like envy or hate)

Fair warning: the quiz is a little intense.

[wik] "Who kills his victims" yet "you rarely dirty you hands with killing," a conflicted demon, I guess. - B

[alsø wik] First, running true to form, Buckethead had to fix the quiz code and take the rough edges off the mis-spellings and retarded grammar. So, props. As for the "conflict", maybe not- note the qualifier "rarely"; so he will do his own dirty work at times. But regardless, the end result- whether inflicted by the actual malevolent entity or his tormented slaves- is the same: an unusual and/or cruel death.

[alsø alsø wik] But besides that, who are you to question Satan's minions, Daniel fucking Webster?

[wik] No, Virginia, this doesn't get me out of the hot seat

From Rootsvilleburg, Oh, resident BTD Matt, we have another excruciatingly fun interweb sign generator thingy. Behold, my creation:

Over at Naked Villainy, we find a quiz that warms the cockles of our heart. A soft and fuzzy quiz that probes at the feminine side of our soul. This quiz asks, "What WWII Army would you be?" The answer is clear: Finland

You scored as Finland.

Your army is the army of Finland. You prefer to win your enemy by your wit rather than superior weapons. Enemy will have a hard time against your small but effective force.

[wik] And what rule insists that the authors of these verdamt quizzes can't write or spellcheck their way out of wet paper sack?

[alsø wik] While I am utterly unsurprised that I ended up as Finland, given my genetic heritage and disposition, I am surprised that I ranked so low as America. Granted, I don't believe that the American strategic campaign was terribly useful, or even terribly moral, but I don't think that those answers should have bumped the 'ol US of A that far down the rankings.

[alsø alsø wik] If I were to get all reckless and shit, and attempt to rank those nations without the assistance of an interweb quiz engine, it might go something like this:

• Finland
• USA
• Britain/Commonwealth
• Poland
• Italy
• Germany
• Japan
• Soviet Union
• France, Free French or Resistance

[wi nøt trei a høliday in Sweden this yër?] If I were to choose purely on the basis of prowess, rather than ideological preference, the list might go like this:

• Finland
• Germany
• USA
• Britain/Commonwealth
• Poland
• Italy
• Japan
• Soviet Union
• France, Free French or Resistance

Strangely, the lists are nearly identical, with the exception of Germany moving up rather precipitously.

Ministry Crony EDog informs me that he will be honoring our beloved Perfidy in his blogday post. At the very same moment, he also, accidently, let me know that there is such a thing as blogday. With some careful, cautious research - namely going to blogday.com - I have teased out the following information:

• Blogday is one of those skirting-the-edge-of-insipid-happy-happy-joy-joy thingies.
• On Blog Day, you mention, and I presume link to, five blogs that you haven't before, or maybe not very frequently, and that hopefully aren't on your blogroll.
• The targets of your linkage should be informed of their unwilling participation.

Personally, that last seems to take some of the fun out of the whole exercise. Be that as it may. I have, as it happens, approximately five new blogs that I have been reading lately that I have not linked (no surprise there, I forget to link everyone) and which, as an added bonus, have a theme.

So here, for your reading pleasure, five science fiction writer blogs:

• First on the list is the one I have been reading longest. Charlie's Diary is the blog home of author Charles Stross, who just recently failed to win a Hugo. Happily, the novel that he thought deserved it won, so I guess that's something. Stross is, perhaps, my favorite writer of the moment. While he missed the opportunity to have the sort of influence on a young boy that Heinlein did for me, through his poor choice of birthday, he is the one whose books are stretching my brain right now. For some years, the singularity was the elephant in the room that is science fiction. People avoided talking about it, but nevertheless, its bulk affected the habits and seating arrangements. One could argue that much of the current wave of alternate sf is a reaction to the challenge presented by the singularity - how do you write about something that is by definition impossible to foresee? Stross is one of the relative few sf writers that has written directly at the singularity, and the results are impressive. Oh, and his blog's fun, too.
• Our next selection is Angel Station, the blog home of author Walter Jon Williams. According to his profile, he likes writing, game designing, kenpo, scuba diving, fantasy Iron Chef and long walks on the beach. He also has had a fascinating continuing series on his trip to Turkey that is well worth the reading. His novel Voice of the Whirlwind is one of my all-time favorites.
• Next in line we find Whatever, the blog of another author who failed to get a Hugo the other day, John Scalzi. (He did get the Campbell Award, so don’t cry for him.) Scalzi and out next contestant have had a running battle over the fate of the planet Pluto, which was entertaining if futile, and ultimately moot. Part of those shenanigans can be found here. Scalzi is a fun writer – I’ve read his two published novels, and they’re riproaring old school fun. You can find one of his novels, Agent to the Stars, for free on his website. It’s a great read, if uncannily similar to EDog’s NaNoWriMo novel, The Milkman.
• Pluto-hayta Scott Westerfeld has an entertaining blog, and one of these days real soon, now I’m going to read some of his books.
• Finally, we have Cheeseburger Gothic, the blog of Australian author John Birmingham. He has written a three book trilogy called the Axis of Time, where in a multinational task force from the year 2021 gets whipped back into the middle of the Battle of Midway, thereby causing a little confusion. I have read the first two, and have gone so far as to order the third from an Australian bookseller. Yes, I am paying an extra $15 in shipping just to avoid waiting til the books January US release. The story is fascinating, really. All the guns and ‘splosians and whatnot you could ask for, but also insightful bits about how race and gender iontegrated post modern warriors from the future would get along with the white bread mainstream society of the forties. Also, the enemies are clever, but still possessed of their tragic flaws. Well done stuff.

[wik] Of course, I would be remiss, and nearly was, in failing to mention that the hombre who started all this, EDog, is himself a science fiction author, though as yet unfairly and nigh on to tragically unpublished. You can see his stuff here, and if you email him and ask nicely he'll probably send you a copy of some of his stuff. I highly recommend The Milkman, mentioned above.

You scored as Serenity (Firefly).

You like to live your own way and don't enjoy when anyone but a friend tries to tell you should do different. Now if only the Reavers would quit trying to skin you.

Speaking of mild embarrassment, I'm passingly familiar with something like half of the specific alleged cultural icons on the list above. So there's that. I await the assistance of my fellow Ministers in analyzing what these results mean. At their extreme leisure, of course. First pass, though, my pictorial montage makes me seem a Buckethead clone, of sorts.

[wik] HTML, as a markup language, rivals grunting and farting for clearly enunciated communication.

Seemingly this pic was published by Stormfront Photo Services- the future will have no black people, but it will have one extra hot chick for every three Aryans.

You scored as Andromeda Ascendant (Andromeda).

The universe around you in complete anarchy, but you know just how to handle it. You have a clear head no matter how dire the situation around you may be and people have a tendency to come to you for help. Now if only the Magog would quit trying to lay eggs in your stomach.

I haven't seen about half of these, including Andromeda, whose crew I most represent. I tried once, but it felt like that old Buck Rogers episode where Buck and Wilma go back in time to fight...no, wait, it was the one where like Flash Gordon goes into the future, and pilots a fighter in Wilma's attack wing, and...with Buck...fight...fuck it, I don't remember now, but it was shitty.

Today, we are blessed with the opportunity to determine, through the magic of the interweb, what science fiction crew we most closely resemble. I found this quiz at the fine webpage of NDR, who normally doesn't stoop to this sort of thing, being more concerned with the abstract and theoretical, even ethereal realms of deep history. It is, however, a perfect match for our idiom of hard-charging idiocy and spastic goofiness.

Sadly, the link was truncated over at The Rhine River, and I was forced to google a replacement link, which I found at No Longer the World's Slowest Blog. Being the kind of guy I am, I volunteered to be the guinea pig for this particular test. As I expected, the results were flattering:

You scored as Serenity (Firefly).

You like to live your own way and don't enjoy when anyone but a friend tries to tell you should do different. Now if only the Reavers would quit trying to skin you.

I have never seen the TV show, but I did greatly enjoy the movie. So much, in fact, that I bought it.

Never one to run from free and easy content, allow me to piggyback on Buckethead and Thoughts, Ideas and Wildfires spiffy little book thingum. Oh, don't worry about Buckethead; he has the grit, gristle, and shoulders to heave even my girthy girthness about freely.

There are several books near to hand as I type, all of which seem generally the same distance from me. Well ok the dictionary is closest, but it's a little lean on complete sentences (in case anyone really needs to know though, the 5th entry on page 123 is "bachelorette"). There are 3 or 4 books that are also arguably closest, but they are either reference-y or very specific to my job, so I'm declaring them out of bounds.

So let's take the first and last books from this small row, a row that exists about 30" off the back of my seat:

Shah claimed that Sufism was a form of universal wisdom and not Islamic, since it existed from before the historical development of Islam. It was not static in nature and could not be understood by studying past manifestations and methods of old masters. It needed to be constantly redefined for new circumstances and new environments.

That's from that cozy old fireside favorite, Islamic Thought in the Twentieth Century, edited by Suha Taji-Farouki and Basheer M. Nafi.

At the other end of the row comes:

Almost everyone who cared about privacy had been focusing on federal surveillance initiatives. John Poindexter's Total Information Awareness program was target number one. But even Poindexter, who had seen a demonstration of the Matrix, condemned the project, in part because of Asher's involvement.

That's from No Place to Hide by Robert O'Harrow Jr.

I've not read either of them, by the way, beyond the introduction or early chapters. That's why they're on my shelf, and not resting comfortably back in the library.

As I occasionally (read: obsessively) check technorati, I notice when we get blogrolled. The Ministry gets founding blogroll honors on the new blog, Thoughts, Ideas and Wildfires. We are humbled, grateful and mildly abashed at our good fortune. Only a few posts over there as yet, but one that sparked my interest especially. (Well, aside from the Kreepy Karr Kid Killer story, which, except for this parenthetical remark, I plan not to mention ever) Unlike most blog memes, this is relatively inoccuous and does not encourage me to create a blogponzi to feed the ego of the fuckwit who originally had some low wattage brainwave and decided to share with a few thousand of his friends. But anyway, the deal here is, grab that book that is nearest to hand turn to page 123, find the fifth sentence on that page and post it and the next two on your blog. So, here is what I found:

When those who have a purpose for being outdoors encounter those who are outdoors because of how earthy the Earth is, some conflict of interest ensues. Witness the strained relations between loggers and owl enthusiasts or between K. D. Lang and pot roast. At the very least the lover of shrubbery will get kidded.

From PJ O'Rourke's wonderful travelogue, All the Trouble in the World.

Proper deployment of dramatic reaction would require that, since Minister GeekLethal, and before him, Minister Johno, has risen to the bait, I should hold off until Minister Ross has abased himself by tossing an entry across the transom.

But that wouldn't work, because Ross is our touchstone in these matters. As a ferinstance, when some of us (not naming names, mind you) get so busy that we can't squeeze out a screed, the standard excuse is "Hey, man, I'm totally Rossed." It's an apt synonym for being too damned busy to take a breath, and it's both understood and accepted in lieu of providing, well, something interesting for our readers.

My excuse, since I've just obliterated that one for my purposes in the foreseeable future, is that I'm half-Rossed (hey! a new adjective) and unwilling to bother the assemblage with my standard fare.

That standard fare, in all but the rarest of instances, involves me venting my spleen at a piece of idiocy from one or another quarter of our world. Most of those idiocy chunks are politically-oriented, and I really do try to avoid turning this blog into a rant-box for my own, surely non-universal, views on what's stupid, what's an attempt at shouted and repetitive group hypnosis, what's an attempt to play to the short attention spans and poor critical thinking practices of some small bit of the populace, and, well, what's interesting. For that, I've got another blog or three that I could use, and I don't, so why would I do it here, and urinate all over the ambiance?

But, honest, the moment I find something outside that standard fare that twists my tail, you'll read it here.

(clock starts again on the Buckethead bad-blogger bash-o-meter....now)