Brad mentioned the other day that he was wishing for an iPod that he could just stream music to from his computer, so it’d be like a hugely larger collection of music than he normally has. I read about a Google Code project that would let you do it from MacOSX, and then I found this, which says it’ll work from Rhythmbox. Despite having absolutely fantastic taste in blog design: It’s neat, but this is all really kind of a shitty solution.

What I’d like is a device that had wireless (preferably of a variety that can be set up to hook to a wpa secured network so I don’t have to turn off security just for it) and supported UPnP. That way I could set up my UPnP server to serve all of my music, and I could actually select what I wanted to play from the device, instead of just setting up my computer to spew tons of generic, random tracks at me. It’d let you skip stuff you didn’t want to hear without having to go back to the source, etc. Like my own personal shoutcast remote control for my pocket.

While I’m making unlikely-to-be-fulfilled wishlists :

• I’d like a bluetooth pin utility that wasn’t total crap for linux.
• I’d like a Samba configuration for my file server that didn’t randomly differentiate when I mount something via CIFS or browse to it in Nautilus.
• I’d like a full featured http-interface page for VLC that includes turning on and off subtitles.
• I’d like a couple of 1080i or 720p OTA HD channels in my area that didn’t just play fucking football all the time.
• I’d like a well documented UPnP server for linux that supported the XBox360.
• I’d still like a remote controlled DVI or HDMI connected media playing device that supported Xvid/Divx and playing from network-mounted storage.
• I’d like a blowjob on my birthday.

I guess that’s about all I can think of right now.

Testing whether or not I have dominated Blogger/Blogspot like some kind of unholy beast, growling at it’s exposed pink belly. My apologies if this takes Google down.

When I first signed on to OK Cupid because Fargo harassed me, I answered a few questions and then looked at my results, and I saw your lovely face looking back at me on the very first page of results. 84% match (very nearly the highest match possible for me at the time), and a list of interests that sent chills up my spine. I carefully made sure not to masturbate thinking about you (don’t want to jinx it), and pressed forward to make sure we were meant to be.

But something has changed. I don’t know what it was, but 100 more questions have passed, and I think we’ve grown apart.

You no longer show up on my first ten results, you’re back on page SEVEN! We are now only an 80% match, with 1% enemy! How did this happen? I blame myself. We never talked about it, I never made a point to find out why you hate me now. Was it my stance on polyamory? Is it that I mandate that gay marriage should be legal? I suppose now… I’ll never know.

You should go with your perennial runner up, Meliora84 (2% enemy, that bitch always hated me) and try to find a new life, together, reading crime fiction and having discussions about Rolling Stone. Try to find happiness, as you sink further away from my top 100 matches, and I will try to forget the purity, the power of our unrealized potential love.

Beneath Chuck Norris’s beard, there isn’t a chin, there is only a humorless dick who found god and can’t let an opportunity go past to remind everyone about it.

And now he’s trying to sue a book maker who is pretty fucking righteously in the clear, either by way of the argument that this is parody and therefore fair use, or that it is unreasonable that anyone would believe that Chuck Norris’s tears cured cancer, and therefore protected from “false statements” litigation, not to mention that you’re claiming trademark infringement on your name and likeness, which is again, totally insane. (PS: If you win this, I’m going to trademark my face too.)

Way to go Chuck! You could have parlayed some of this ironic resurgence of fame into something (shit, shill for the Creation Museum : “This is the story of all the creatures I let live”, or Rudy Giuliani : “I too wanted to divorce my wife and live with a group of homosexuals and then throw them under a bus to sell my candidacy to the social conservatives when I thought the time was right” or whatever you wanted to say). You could have gotten a spot on Priceline commercials where you explained that the deals were so good God sent you to make sure there was no monkey business with Satan. But instead you proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’re a goober with an axe to grind and zero ideas on how to spend social capital that the internet gave you for free.

So, despite the fact that my lazy ass failed to send a gift to Canada until it was too late to conceivably be there for Christmas, Brad sent me the gift of HIV.

Who knew that the cause of AIDS was so adorable and soft? No wonder it’s an epidemic that has ravaged the sexual revolution since I was old enough to have hair on my bad place.

This will, of course, end up in my cubicle at work, to make the folks there wonder. I am Mr. Passive Agressive Co-Worker.