OK, I know that this is still beta software, but this functionality has been present for three Beta revisions and doesn’t seem to be getting addressed at all.

Mozilla dudes - How do I disable fucking “work offline” mode permanently? I don’t use Network manager to manage my connection (I use a bridged connection at home for virtualization and when I’m dialed in on my laptop with my cellphone Network Manager isn’t an option, PPP has been broken for fucking ever). I don’t want to stare at an old version of my homepage like some kind of retard. I don’t want to have to uncheck a god damned box every fucking time I start up the software (with the mouse no less, no god damned keyboard shortcut either). If I cannot disable Work Offline mode - WHY THE FUCK NOT? Does it piss off the Baby Jesus? Did _I_ piss off the baby Jesus?

Here’s a short list of things I’ve learned about Oregon.

“Rain” on the weather forecast means it’s going to rain. Not hard, not monsoon, just rain. All day.

“Showers” on the weather forecast means it’s going to rain. Not hard, not monsoon, just rain. All day.

“Chance of Showers” on the weather forecast means it’s going to rain. Not hard, not monsoon, just rain. All day. It might stop for ten or twenty minutes.

“10% Chance of Precipitation” on the weather forecast means it’s going to rain. Not hard, not monsoon, just rain. Most of the day. Probably won’t rain in the morning.

“Cloudy” on the weather forecast means it’s probably going to rain. Just a couple little sprinkles.

What I’d like to know how is how in the fuck it’s supposed to go from 50F (10C) and raining to 85F (30C) fucking degrees and clear in 48 hours. I presume this will come with a sudden clap of thunder and the magenta flare of an old one prying his way into this realm through a rough-edged hole punched in reality, as we all cry our now melted frontal lobes out in tribute. Cthulhu fhtagn! Aiee.

In distinct contrast to my post yesterday, this will all be upbeat. I fucking swear it will, or I’ll turn this blog around and we’ll head straight back for Diaryland.

Look at what I found in the road.

It’s awesome. It has this little skull and crossbones on it, and a little red LED in it that lights up when you press the button. And about four different swordfighting sounds. And despite obviously being a dollar store toy with throwaway potential, it has a REPLACABLE BATTERY. Just in case you need to go through an epic foam sword pirate/Thundercat battle.

A green plastic watering can
For a fake Chinese rubber plant
In the fake plastic earth

I’ve been depressed lately. I’m bored and tired and grumpy and horny and easily distracted. I sleep but when I wake up I immediately wish I had more time to sleep. I feel fat and unattractive, this suicidally plummeting self image is countered sweetly by a sex drive that is two notches shy of manic. That’s right, folks, it’s Springtime in Aaron’s head.

I want to purge. Everything. Stuff from the house. Stuff from my body. Stuff from my head. Especially that last one. Stuff from my head. I can’t stop thinking of shit to say and then stopping myself because I don’t want to be rude. I can’t stop thinking the curse words and biting my tongue. And that’s just not working anymore. I’m always the guy who grins and bears it, but I can’t grin and bear it anymore. It’s poisoning my organs. It’s making me toxic. It’s turning me to plastic. This shit can’t be kept inside my head.

This shit has to be said.

You should dump him. You know you should. You say as much. But every time you seem on the verge you back down and suddenly you’re cuddling with him again. He’s never going to get off his ass and do anything. It’s a bear to get him to decide on fucking dinner, and you think he’s gonna be the one to keep beside you for an exciting life, a life of maximum effort? He’s functionally illiterate trailer trash and you’re fucking blind if you can’t see it.

You don’t seem to understand what I am saying. I said it and I meant it. We’re through with this, I’m tired of it. I gave you chance after chance and you lied and halfassed and in the end did nothing. When I finally told you how I felt, you nodded your head like you understood, but apparently you didn’t. If you don’t do something with yourself soon you’re going to end up on the street. How can you not see that?

Why should I be happy? You promised me freedom to pursue what I wanted and then when I took that option it turned into backpedaling and doubletalk. Now I’m stuck between two people who are telling me completely opposite things. So now that this clusterfuck is on the slow boat to nowhere, you give me a hearty handshake and tell me I deserve it. Well fuck you too.

I wasn’t sure how to react when you asked me about it before, because I never met him. But then I did and if that’s how he treats you every day, you need to run, not walk, away. It’s borderline abusive, and I could detect no humor in it. This was not the witty barbs of a sarcastic lover, these were the jabs of a little man who insists on keeping his woman in check with psychological assault. I couldn’t believe how he belittled you in front of your friends and his. It’s not my place to say, I know, but now it’s said. You deserve so much better, it makes me angry just thinking about it. Don’t you know how beautiful you are?

You coward. How can you hide behind this wall? The strength to change the things you can, faggot, that’s the line you should be thinking about. Fuck serenity. Fuck comfort. Fuck complacency. This is about progress, and you can’t make an omelet without killing a couple chickens, right? A restless night of horror sleep with these thoughts ricocheting around inside your head isn’t a good trade to stop a couple minutes of uncomfortable conversation. You’re an idiot, and a coward. You’re lazy, and this shit is getting old. You’ve burned every bridge on the way here and ended up with what? Thirty extra pounds and a head full of stories that are all worn out, soft at the edges. You need the crystalline outline of something new.

She lives with a broken man
A cracked polystyrene man
Who just crumbles and burns - Radiohead “Fake Plastic Trees”

Normally, I read John Scalzi’s blog and nod my head like a good little libby whore, he’s funny and his public facing (as he is quick to point out, there is a difference between who he is online and who he is) opinions frequently match up with mine. But today, I read this. I agree with a significant portion of this article. I, too, disapprove of the Bush administration’s handling of… damn near everything. I agree that any attacks on Iran would simply be spiteful.

What I disagree with is this.

“Frankly, at this point, the less he intrudes on my consciousness the happier I am…”
“…but more than that I just don’t want to have to think about him ever again.”

I think this is the wrong way to look at it. I think we should think about George W. Bush ALL THE TIME from here on in. Whenever we, as a country, have a discourse about what harm could be done by a poorly chosen politician, at any level, we should have to confront the loss that this country has suffered. The loss of life, the loss of political capital, the loss of economic momentum.