The Inferno



The Inferno :: It is a fallacy to state that something exists just because it can’t be proven that it doesn’t
Archive for November, 2007
11/29/07
4:06 pm
Can of beans

WHO’S YO DADDY?
The following are all replies that Detroit women have written on Child Support Agency Forms in the section for listing “Father’s Details.”

1. Regarding the identity of the father of my twins, Makeeshia was fathered by Maclearndon McKinley I am unsure as to the identity of the father of Marlinda, but I believe that she was conceived on the same night.

2. I am unsure, as to the identity of the father of my child as I was being sick out of a window when taken unexpectedly from behind. I can provide you with a list of names of men that I think were at the party if this helps.

3. I do not know the name of the father of my little girl. She was conceived at a party at 3600 East Grand Boulevard where I had sex with a man I met that night. I do remember that the sex was so good that I fainted. If you do manage to track down the father, can you please send me his phone number? Thanks.

4. I don’t know the identity of the father of my daughter. He drives a BMW that now has a hole made by my stiletto in one of the door panels. Perhaps you can contact BMW service stations in this area and see if he’s had it replaced.

5. I have never had sex with a man. I am still a Virginian. I am awaiting a letter from the Pope confirming that my son’s conception was ejaculate and that he is the Saver risen again.

6. I cannot tell you the name of Alleshia’s dad as he informs me that to do so would blow his cover and that would have cataclysmic implications for the economy. I am torn between doing right by you and right by the country. Please advise.

7. I do not know who the father of my child was as they all look the same to me.

8. Tyrone Hairston is the father of child A. If you do catch up with him, can you ask him what he did with my AC/DC CDs? Child B who was also borned at the same time…. well, I don’t have clue.

9. From the dates it seems that my daughter was conceived at Disney World. Maybe it really is the Magic Kingdom .

10. So much about that night is a blur. The only thing that I remember for sure is Delia Smith did a program about eggs earlier in the evening. If I had stayed in and watched more TV rather than going to the party at
8956 Miller Ave , mine might have remained unfertilized.

11. I am unsure as to the identity of the father of my baby, after all, like when you eat a can of beans you can’t be sure which one made you fart.

Funny.

11/28/07
12:29 pm
One Week in Beijing

A few days ago I returned from spending a glorious week in Beijing. What can I say, I loved it! The people were friendly, the prices absurdly cheap, the food killer and the sights superb. I left on Sunday morning, the 18th of November 2007, and landed on Monday night, the 19th, owing to the 16+ hour difference.

On landing, we realized our folly in not printing out directions to our hostel in Mandarin. The cabbie spoke nary a word of English, and after extensive hand signaling and stopping to ask strangers, we finally made it. The rooms were a bit smaller than anticipated and so the next day, after a good breakfast buffet, we checked out into another hostel with more spacious quarters.

Since finding the new hostel took up half the day, we decided to spend the rest of the day exploring the city and trying to find a good place for lunch. Our days followed a simple pattern, the mornings were spent sightseeing, often until the late afternoon, and the evenings were spent indoors in heated shopping malls trying to find gifts for ourselves and our friends and so on.

We saw Tiananmen Square, the Forbidden City and The Great Wall on three successive days. Tiananmen Square is vast, open and filled with tourists. Nothing you wouldn’t expect, even the obligatory Red Guard marches happened right on schedule. For inexpensive yet good clothes, we checked out the Sanlitun Yashow clothing market. Be sure to go there and be prepared to bargain outrageously. When they try to sell you something for 700 Yuan, be prepared to counter with a derisive snort and say, “Whaat! 100 Yuan, that’s it”. Then they’ll counter with 600 and you can go to 150 and so on until you both meet at 180 or 200 or whatever you feel its worth. The culture of bargaining is very strong. The upside is that sometimes you pay far lesser than even the locals. Though of course, this is rare.

The Forbidden City is vast, cyclopean with all its stone and very humbling all at once. As you walk through arch after arch, over stone pathways that are now hallowed with the steps of countless tourists, you realize the grandeur of the Imperial Court. We spent 7 hours in the Forbidden City and saw less than half of it. We had to leave for lunch, roast duck awaited. By this point I needed a new memory card, since mine was full, being the compulsive shutterbug that I am.

The following day, we went to Mutianyu, one of the closest sites to tour the Great Wall. Around 2.5 hours from Beijing, we got there around 9.30 and hiked on it until 1.30. I took tons of pictures, all visible in the Pictures link below. It stretches as far as the eye can see, broken in some parts, but rearing its massive crenellations in short order after a break in the usual order of things. Wide enough to drive a jeep on, the Great Wall is very steep in some parts, as we found out soon enough. We got to the highest point we could reach and then returned for a hearty lunch. Back at the hostel by 5 P.M., we then went shopping for some electronics, a cheap laptop or digital camera would have been great.

The next day was a bit of a breather, we didn’t leave the hostel until 11 A.M., venturing to the Russian Quarter, where the storefront signs and some street signs are in Cyrillic and so on. Russian women in furs preening and arguing in Russian over the prices of consumer items such as handbags, purses, shoes etc….The Chinese shopkeepers were met were very multilingual, knowing a smattering of words in almost every language we could think of. Doubtless, this helped them secure sales. For lunch, we had some Yak steak at a Tibetan restaurant. Delicious.

People were also very taken with my sideburns. I had people of both genders come up to me and touch them and say, ‘VERY COOL’ quite forcefully. That’s it, I’m never shaving them off now.

We left on Sunday, the 25th, from Beijing at 5 P.M. and arrived home in Vancouver at 12 P.M. Flying into the sun gave us the day back that we had lost initially. A bit of jetlag ensued after distributing the loot to all my friends and here I am now, left with memories of the one crazy week in China.

Pictures

Videos

11/27/07
12:43 am
Mayhem in Moscow

Utels

It is a smoky room in the Utels Stayokay Hostel, Beijing, China. A man with dreadlocks is playing and singing “Down in a Hole” by Alice in Chains on a guitar, while an English fellow tells him to turn off the grunge and play something more like the Beatles or Led Zeppelin. I’m glad he’s not listening. Soon it is night and everyone goes to bed.

The next day, I run into the acoustic guitarist and the following conversation ensues:

Me: “That was really good, that rendition of DIAH”
He: Thanks
Me: So, where are you from? (In a hostel, every foreigner is very friendly, usually. Strangers in a strange land bonding and all that rot)
He: Norway, you?
Me: Canada
He: Ah I see.
Me: That’s cool, I had a Norwegian girl in my class at university a year ago and she taught me some Norsk, but I forgot.
He: Ah that’s ok, just think about it, it’ll come back to you.
Me: Yeah, all I know about Norway is the fjords.
He: Yes, everyone knows the fjords. And black metal, I suppose.
Me: Yes, of course, black metal haha.
He: Yes, in fact, at the airport in Moscow, I ran into these Norwegian guys from some black metal band, they were on tour.
Me: Oh yeah, do you know their name?
He: No, I know nothing about black metal. I just saw that they were musicians because of their gear and so went and spoke to them.
Me: Ah I see, you sure you don’t know their name, was it Emperor? Immortal?
He: Nope, they said they were old, from the Eighties.
Me: Mayhem?
He: Yes, that’s it, Mayhem.
Me: Haha those guys, they’re influential and all that, but I’m not a huge fan, I do like some black metal though.
He: Yes, in Norway black metal was in the news because of the bad press some years ago.
Me: Yeah, the church burnings and murders, that Varg Vikernes guy.
He: Yeah, that guy, he’s in prison now.
Me: Yeah, he’s also a Nazi, what a fool that twit is.
He: Yes, he’s, how do you say, fucked in the head?
Me: Hahaha yes, quite. Mayhem must have been shocked that you didn’t know them or even ask for their autograph or anything, probably cried themselves to sleep in their dressing room
He: Haha they looked very tired, wearing all that heavy black armour must tire one out.
Me: Yeah, that and the constant Satan worship….gotta be exhausting.
He: Haha, indeed.

Then we talked about Bill Hicks and the US elections and creationism and the Chinese language and pot and Canada. We chatted some more and I found out he was actually a photographer, whose photographs adorned the walls of the hostel. Pretty neat ones too, from what I could see. There was also one of Mao in a urinal, which is pretty risky, considering how the Chinese still adore Mao. His name was Edgar G. Bachel and his website is http://edgar-g-bachel.com/. If you ever read this, Edgar (Kim), you’re still welcome to head over and have a good time in Vancouver, Canada.

11/26/07
11:18 am
chkdsk

Windows faults are everywhere. Someone at Peking International Airport needs to run chkdsk immediately.

Closeup

The ATM:

ATM

Blasted flash:

Blasted flash

11/13/07
10:05 pm
Donnerstag

El Jueves (Spanish for Thursday) has been fined for this lewd cartoon of the Spanish royal family.

Work??

It’s the heir apparent to the Spanish crown, Prince Felipe and his wife, Princess Letizia copulating and he’s telling her, “Do you realise that if you get pregnant, it will be the closest thing to work I’ve done in my life?”.

Truer words were never spoken. And the editor and cartoonist just got fined and the cartoon is banned. I thought only religious and fundamentalist countries had problems with cartoons, but I guess even a democracy in Western Europe can be stupid enough. Just goes to show, we need to grow a brain fast.

Rock on, Guillermo and Manuel. For every day in prison, draw 30,000 more cartoons “denigrating” the idle rich. Maybe you’ll cause them enough stress to be late for their $52,000 hair appointment or their millionaire fashion consultant. Hang the rich.

11/11/07
11:37 am
Enslaved in the New York Times

Good exposure for a band most people have never heard of.

By KELEFA SANNEH
Published: November 8, 2007

ALLENTOWN, Pa., Nov. 7 — On Tuesday night, in a plush tour bus parked in this city’s scruffy downtown, a couple of Norwegians were talking about world music. They were talking about the competing musical traditions of Norway and Sweden. They were talking about Icelandic linguistics and Viking mythology. They were talking about indigenous scenes in Canada, India and lots of places in between. In other words, they were talking about heavy metal.

The Norwegians were Ivar Bjornson and Grutle Kjellson, who founded their metal band, Enslaved, 16 years ago. They were once identified with the spooky — and, for a time, hugely controversial — subgenre known as black metal, but they have sloughed off one label after another while slowly building a worldwide following.

Not a huge one: They are rock stars, more or less, in Norway, but they are decidedly underground figures in most of the rest of the world. Still, that a hundred or so fans came out to see them at the Crocodile Rock Café, a cavernous Allentown club, says something about the tenacity of the genre and the band. The members hurtled through a typically eerie, riveting set, propelled by tricky rhythms, keyboard atmospherics, mutating guitar riffs and careful but cathartic explosions of noise and screaming.

This was the fourth date of a grueling five-week tour, and the unglamorous surroundings only underscored the mixed blessing of being in a band like this one. Being a working metal band often means touring the world indefinitely.

On a chilly night at the Crocodile Rock, that might not have seemed like good news to the band members. But it should be good news to adventurous listeners around the country, including those in New York: Thursday night the band is scheduled to play the B. B. King Blues Club & Grill. And you don’t have to be an expert in Scandinavian history — or even a metal fan, really — to enjoy getting lost in the group’s epic, elegant music.

Enslaved went from being called “black metal” to being called “Viking metal” to being called “progressive metal,” though the members prefer the catch-all term “extreme metal.” And in an Internet age especially, extreme metal both transcends national boundaries and, in a fertile way, emphasizes them. “Evil” imagery exists everywhere, inspiring scenes all over the globe. And as old-fashioned Satanic imagery has given way to subtler allusions to pre-Christian culture, obsessive fans have gotten used to doing online homework to keep up with the lyric sheets. If you like Enslaved, for example, you probably know that Mr. Kjellson used to sing in Icelandic because of that language’s similarity to Old Norse, and you may even know something about ancient runes.

Now Mr. Kjellson mainly sings in English, partly in an attempt to close the language gap with non-Norwegian fans, many of whom had been following the band’s evolving interests by reading the English translations included in some albums. Mr. Bjornson said the foreignness of English was a benefit too: “That dissonance helps, getting into character, removing ourselves from our daily lives.”

On the most recent Enslaved album — a great CD from 2006 called “Ruun” (Candlelight USA) — the English-language lyrics are more suggestive than bombastic. Hints of the old black-metal misanthropy remain (“I do not pity life/I follow not pathetic order”), but the mood is more melancholy than pugnacious. The title track, one of the highlights of Tuesday’s show, is a crashing paean to the old gods, building from a prog-rock introduction to a seething climax: “Reach for them, see them turn away.”

From listening to the latest CD, you might never guess that Enslaved was once associated with one of the most reviled music scenes of all time. In the early 1990s Norwegian black metal made headlines with a series of high-profile events: one musician’s suicide, a spate of church burnings and the conviction of two prominent figures — Faust of Emperor and Varg Vikernes of Burzum — for murder.

One of Enslaved’s first releases was a split album with Emperor, and Mr. Bjornson admits that the media storm helped draw attention to Norwegian black metal. “People still regard Norway with a certain respect,” he said. “Not only because of all the scary stuff that happened — well, ‘weird’ is a better word — but because of how the scene developed, on its own.” Then, having benefited from the controversy, many bands associated with black metal had to figure out a way to live it down.

Enslaved did it by persevering and by changing: The members view “Monumension,” an excellent and mysterious-sounding album from 2001, as the beginning of a new phase. And in Norway the members of Enslaved are settling into their unlikely roles as respected veterans. Oddly enough, the Norwegian Ministry of Culture and Church Affairs sponsored a collaboration between members of Enslaved and the noisy electronic duo Fe-mail. The hybrid group is called Trinacria (you can hear live tracks at myspace.com/trinacriamusic), and a full-length album is due next year. Extreme metal, which once seemed like a threat to Norway’s cultural heritage, is inevitably coming to be seen as part of it. How long before the government finances an ad campaign, inviting black-metal fans from around the world to come to the most evil country on Earth?

Certainly some sort of cultural exchange program seemed to be under way at the Crocodile Rock on Tuesday, where Mr. Kjellson kept saying, “You having a good time, Allentown?” Or, “Thank you, Allentown, Pennsylvania.” Or, “This is the last song for tonight, Allentown.”

Before long, the city name was starting to sound like a curse word, or maybe just a reminder that the life of a touring extreme-metal band is hard work. But Mr. Kjellson surely knows that the genre’s popularity in a handful of European countries is the exception, not the rule. Around the world metal endures — and, in its own subterranean way, flourishes — in nooks and crannies.

It was now early on Wednesday morning in empty downtown Allentown, and the small crowd in the big club remained. As the band prepared to play the savage title track from “Isa,” Mr. Kjellson said, “I guess most of you already know this one.” And he guessed right.

Enslaved will perform tonight at the B. B. King Blues Club & Grill, 237 West 42nd Street, Manhattan, (212) 997-4144; bbkingblues.com.

11/10/07
1:19 am
Have no fear

Mussolini the dunce

A fascist is an inferior person who believes someone when they tell him he is superior to everyone else.

- Anonymous

The Identity, Tradition and Sovereignty (ITS) grouping in the EU parliament, which is essentially a motley collection of racist, xenophobic twits that have somehow managed to fulfill the quorum(20) needed for participation in the European Parliament is on the verge of breaking up and therefore, being ejected from the Parliament. This is obviously good news, since any sort of misfortune to fascists is always good news to anyone with a working brain. The only good fascist is a dead fascist and all that hoohaa.

What’s great about this breakup is that the Italians are calling the Romanians habitual law-breakers and thieves, in effect, grouping them with the Roma/Sinti, who have always been the whipping boy of European nationalism and xenophobia. This rift is spurred on by none other than Il Duce’s grand-daughter, and we all know how that fellow ended up. Burnt and charred, naked, upside down on a meathook in a plaza in Rome. A fitting end for a fascist.

I’ve just finished reading Umberto Eco’s “The mysterious flame of Queen Loana” and Italian fascism is a topic he revisits in some detail, since the story is told from the point of a recovering amnesiac who relives his childhood during Mussolini’s peak. An excellent book, Umberto references a million things, all at once. In any case, that is neither here nor there. What matters is that the fascists are now a “casualty” of their own rhetoric, as someone put it.

11/09/07
12:51 am
The 10 types of programmers

I can only say that I know a Code Cowboy in person, and yes, the description is accurate.

Programmers enjoy a reputation for being peculiar people. In fact, even within the development community, there are certain programmer archetypes that other programmers find strange. Here are 10 types of programmers you are likely to run across. Can you think of any more?

#1: Gandalf

This programmer type looks like a short-list candidate to play Gandalf in The Lord of the Rings. He (or even she!) has a beard halfway to his knees, a goofy looking hat, and may wear a cape or a cloak in the winter. Luckily for the team, this person is just as adept at working magic as Gandalf. Unluckily for the team, they will need to endure hours of stories from Gandalf about how he or she to walk uphill both ways in the snow to drop off the punch cards at the computer room. The Gandalf type is your heaviest hitter, but you try to leave them in the rear and call them up only in times of desperation.

#2: The Martyr

In any other profession, The Martyr is simply a “workaholic.” But in the development field, The Martyr goes beyond that and into another dimension. Workaholics at least go home to shower and sleep. The Martyr takes pride in sleeping at the desk amidst empty pizza boxes. The problem is, no one ever asked The Martyr to work like this. And he or she tries to guilt-trip the rest of the team with phrases like, “Yeah, go home and enjoy dinner. I’ll finish up the next three week’s worth of code tonight.”

#3: Fanboy

Watch out for Fanboy. If he or she corners you, you’re in for a three-hour lecture about the superiority of Dragonball Z compared to Gundam Wing, or why the Playstation 3 is better than the XB 360. Fanboy’s workspace is filled with posters, action figures, and other knick-knacks related to some obsession, most likely imported from Japan. Not only are Fanboys obnoxious to deal with, they often put so much time into the obsession (both in and out of the office) that they have no clue when it comes to doing what they were hired to do.

#4: Vince Neil

This 40-something is a throwback to 1984 in all of the wrong ways. Sporting big hair, ripped stonewashed jeans, and a bandana here or there, Vince sits in the office humming Bon Jovi and Def Leppard tunes throughout the workday. This would not be so bad if “Pour Some Sugar on Me” was not so darned infectious.

Vince is generally a fun person to work with, and actually has a ton of experience, but just never grew up. But Vince becomes a hassle when he or she tries living the rock ‘n roll lifestyle to go with the hair and hi-tops. It’s fairly hard to work with someone who carries a hangover to work every day.

#5: The Ninja

The Ninja is your team’s MVP, and no one knows it. Like the legendary assassins, you do not know that The Ninja is even in the building or working, but you discover the evidence in the morning. You fire up the source control system and see that at 4 AM, The Ninja checked in code that addresses the problem you planned to spend all week working on, and you did not even know that The Ninja was aware of the project! See, while you were in Yet Another Meeting, The Ninja was working.

Ninjas are so stealthy, you might not even know their name, but you know that every project they’re on seems to go much more smoothly. Tread carefully, though. The Ninja is a lone warrior; don’t try to force him or her to work with rank and file.

#6: The Theoretician

The Theoretician knows everything there is to know about programming. He or she can spend four hours lecturing about the history of an obscure programming language or providing a proof of how the code you wrote is less than perfectly optimal and may take an extra three nanoseconds to run. The problem is, The Theoretician does not know a thing about software development. When The Theoretician writes code, it is so “elegant” that mere mortals cannot make sense of it. His or her favorite technique is recursion, and every block of code is tweaked to the max, at the expense of timelines and readability.

The Theoretician is also easily distracted. A simple task that should take an hour takes Theoreticians three months, since they decide that the existing tools are not sufficient and they must build new tools to build new libraries to build a whole new system that meets their high standards. The Theoretician can be turned into one of your best players, if you can get him or her to play within the boundaries of the project itself and stop spending time working on The Ultimate Sorting Algorithm.

#7: The Code Cowboy

The Code Cowboy is a force of nature that cannot be stopped. He or she is almost always a great programmer and can do work two or three times faster than anyone else. The problem is, at least half of that speed comes by cutting corners. The Code Cowboy feels that checking code into source control takes too long, storing configuration data outside of the code itself takes too long, communicating with anyone else takes too long… you get the idea.

The Code Cowboy’s code is a spaghetti code mess, because he or she was working so quickly that the needed refactoring never happened. Chances are, seven pages’ worth of core functionality looks like the “don’t do this” example of a programming textbook, but it magically works. The Code Cowboy definitely does not play well with others. And if you put two Code Cowboys on the same project, it is guaranteed to fail, as they trample on each other’s changes and shoot each other in the foot.

Put a Code Cowboy on a project where hitting the deadline is more important than doing it right, and the code will be done just before deadline every time. The Code Cowboy is really just a loud, boisterous version of The Ninja. While The Ninja executes with surgical precision, The Code Cowboy is a raging bull and will gore anything that gets in the way.

#8: The Paratrooper

You know those movies where a sole commando is air-dropped deep behind enemy lines and comes out with the secret battle plans? That person in a software development shop is The Paratrooper. The Paratrooper is the last resort programmer you send in to save a dying project. Paratroopers lack the patience to work on a long-term assignment, but their best asset is an uncanny ability to learn an unfamiliar codebase and work within it. Other programmers might take weeks or months to learn enough about a project to effectively work on it; The Paratrooper takes hours or days. Paratroopers might not learn enough to work on the core of the code, but the lack of ramp-up time means that they can succeed where an entire team might fail.

#9: Mediocre Man

“Good enough” is the best you will ever get from Mediocre Man. Don’t let the name fool you; there are female varieties of Mediocre Man too. And he or she always takes longer to produce worse code than anyone else on the team. “Slow and steady barely finishes the race” could describe Mediocre Man’s projects. But Mediocre Man is always just “good enough” to remain employed.

When you interview this type, they can tell you a lot about the projects they’ve been involved with but not much about their actual involvement. Filtering out the Mediocre Man type is fairly easy: Ask for actual details of the work they’ve done, and they suddenly get a case of amnesia. Let them into your organization, though, and it might take years to get rid of them.

#10: The Evangelist

No matter what kind of environment you have, The Evangelist insists that it can be improved by throwing away all of your tools and processes and replacing them with something else. The Evangelist is actually the opposite of The Theoretician. The Evangelist is outspoken, knows an awful lot about software development, but performs very little actual programming.

The Evangelist is secretly a project manager or department manager at heart but lacks the knowledge or experience to make the jump. So until The Evangelist is able to get into a purely managerial role, everyone else needs to put up with his or her attempts to revolutionize the workplace.

This article courtesy of the fine folks at Tech Republic.

11/08/07
2:00 pm
Forget everything

Stooges

I said in my last post on Bush and Pakistan. This latest tidbit is even better, do they even realize they’re saying such things?

You can’t be the president and the head of the military at the same time

- President Bush to Gen Musharraf

Conveniently forgetting that the President of the United States is the Commander in Chief of the Armed Forces of the United States. Will these delicious blurtings plumb new depths of irony next week?

11/08/07
10:51 am
You suffer….but why?

But Viren, you’re 27, you should stop listening to this #$@&^#!@ and cut your hair and get a real job.

Death, needs no introduction.

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The Philosopher

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Lack of Comprehension

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Symbolic, live in Los Angeles

The mighty Nile, which is not Egyptian for “lame”.

Execration Text

Sarcophagus, look for the sweet, gentle riff around 3:05

Nasum, Swedish grindcore, political in the vein of good ol’ Napalm Death.

Wrath

Napalm Death, the true masters of political rage themselves.

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Silence is Deafening

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Nazi Punks Fuck Off, not as good as the studio version but still a lot better than the Dead Kennedys original, in my humble opinion.