YOU CAN'T HAVE YOUR CAKE AND EAT IT TOO!

Means and ends (on the unconspicuous usage of violence)

2009-03-26T01:58:00.005+01:00

I get very pissed off whenever I read that some idiot went postal in town X, country Y (no, it's not always the USA) because of the evident lack of foresight of those chimps (everybody knowing that it was them the ones shooting people at the school/supermarket/post office, thus having no way out of the mess they got themselves into except death or imprisonment, usually followed by death). It's obvious that noone bothered briefing these scrapes from the bottom of the gene pool on the dos and don'ts of violence.

Shooting and killing sprees when your life is not in imminent danger are pretty much like using PowerPoint in a lecture (I don't think I have to explain this one, but just in case, stick it up your ass): cruel and counterproductive. Cruel because you're screwing a lot of people in the process and not making a profit. Counterproductive because in the Powerpoint side of the problem as well as the violent one, you're not getting your point across and you are looking like a fucking lunatic and an idiot and I'm falling asleep - permanently.

Also, for weeks after you have sprayed the pavements and walls of our beloved town (I'll just pretend I'm from town X in this example) with your brains I'll have to put up with idiots everywhere speaking about how violence is just wrong and not quite the right way to do things.

Of course violence is not the answer for everything! Almost everyone prefers to reason over arguments, but there are some brickheads you can only reason (or get them to act in a way that doesn't bother you) by inflicting pain. Vast amounts of it. And you should do it in a way that won't allow for charges to be pressed against you (I believe the bullshit term for this is "cost/result analysis"). Personally, I'd suggest a kick in the back of the knee. It can be done without drawing attention, and judging by the expression of the recipients and the time they stay on their knees it hurts a lot which should suffice to make yourself clear. Experience has shown me that while violence is not the solution for everything, it solves the most persistent ones (where words won't work) and it gives the gratification of a work well done.

OTOH, sadly, tossing a projector connected to a laptop off a window is very expensive, which detracts from the gratification it provides.

Remember kids, when it comes to violence, think before acting and don't do it a day late and way over budget!

Test Drive: the Führermobile (day 1)

2008-09-15T22:42:00.003+01:00

Today I took the Führermobile for a drive. I hadn't driven for four years, and it was kind of confusing for the first few minutes, but I guess it's kind of like coding HTML: you can't forget how to do it.

Parking was the hardest bit, but surprisingly I got it right on the first try (mind you, I was checking which pedal was the clutch just five minutes before that). The car's small on the outside, but big inside (not "big as an SUV", but big as "I can fit inside it without having to practice ninjutsu for two years", which given my size and the car's size is quite an achievement. You can never go wrong with German cars...), it's quite responsive, offers a great view of the road (it's got a short snout) and you can notice by the sound and vibrations if you're revving up too much or you are getting on the curb/off the road without it being noisy or bothersome inside. Yes, it's a bit old (about 18 years now), but it isn't gasoline-thirsty, I can get it for free and it comes with a tape deck, which is awesome for my metal tapes which I can't listen to anymore in my computer but I still keep around, just in case.

Tomorrow I'll take the Führermobile for another drive.

Forging the furnace for the final grand slam! (Ta-dadada, ta-dadaaaa!)

It was the end of the fucking line...

2008-06-03T08:03:00.004+01:00

Sunday about 6 am. We were at the end of the fucking line.

The place was, in a metaphorical way, where old, rusty, battered cars with oil leaks go to die. In a non metaphorical way, too, if you substitute cars with people and oil with... er... oil, piss or "I don't want to know" -yep, time doesn't treat people kindly, I suppose- and wrinkled instead of battered; it's not a cheap whorehouse, it's just some sort of human junkyard where people who were in their youth or middle age in the 70s go to drink and dance, or mess with their prosthetic hips, or whatever.

So, there we were. It was a lot like the bar in the hotel in "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas", but instead of peanuts there were popcorn bowls and those little salted cookies. The reptiles, I mean, people inside were the same, though, but worn out. All this show of light and colour, carried to our brains with EnhancedVision(tm), i.e.: a visual enhancement obtained after drinking beer, vodka and mezcal and watching Bollywood and cheap-ass ninja movies before going out.

Then a thin, wrinkly woman who might be in her late 30s or in her early 60s (the kind of woman that ages worse than a can of tuna left open in the jungle) comes towards me and asks me something. The horror... the horror! I answer with some faux-Kazakh nonce words from Borat (from the naked fight scene, more specifically) and my pal comes up with something good: "My friend is Serb!". I play along, and he claims that my axe-shaped and celtic cross shaped pendants are Serbian decorations for bravery or something like that. She freaks out, walks away and we laugh our asses off.

Which goes to show that in a dump where young, idiotic people go to fuck with elderly people because of -you all probably can guess- their money, good things can happen too if you are willing to make up surreal stuff!

NORSK ARYSK BLACK METAL et al.

2008-04-10T15:29:00.004+01:00

So, I've been to a couple of concerts lately. One was last weekend, the other was some months ago.

On 19th April this year there was a Black Metal concert. Dark Embrace (a local band) and Watain. Dark Embrace has improved vastly over these years, and it showed in the concert. Watain were awesome, also. No, they didn't splash any blood on stage (both the stage and the concert room's floor were wooden and it would have been a hell of a bloody mess to clean up), neither did they display goats' heads or anything like that, there were some inverted crosses, black candles, incense and all that stuff, and the music was great, mostly songs from their latest album, "Sworn to the Dark" (which was sold out, unfortunately). The concert was at the Dublin Irish Pub, in Carballo. Great, comfortable place, with cheap but good booze and food!

Last week (21st June) there was a grindcore concert with Extreme Noise Terror, Nashgul and Machetazo (these last two ones are local bands). Great concert, lots of fun, my ears ringed a couple of days afterwards. There were lots of people dressed up as zombies, with some spare limbs to throw around (much to the Extreme Noise Terror folks' mirth). It was at the Capitol concert hall in Santiago, it used to be a cinema and therefore is a great place with lots of space and good accoustics: something you won't find in my hometown. Here it's the Opera House, the Colisseum or a small, crummy place.

Speaking about Santiago, I don't know what's wrong with that town, it's as if noone there fucked and had kids, because it looked that the concert-goers were the only young people in town. There was only one metal pub, with a Lord of the Rings theme, which isn't an intrinsically bad trait if it wasn't coupled with: the place being a very small one (I'm rather large and I hate being in cramped spaces), full of people and most of these folks being that kind self-appointed nerds. You know, the ones who can talk about MMORPGs, heroic fantasy or Final Fantasy. The ones who prostitute what was once a badge of honour, that is, having arcane AND useful knowledge (mostly about computers), which is what a proper nerd is, not someone who has read Death Note seven times in a row. That is a masochist with no life and no balls to get into real SM. Fucking bastards.

Now, how did I get here?

The recently departed and the undead

2008-03-06T10:19:00.002+01:00

Gary Gygax died two days ago, at the relatively ripe age of 69. Taking into account what kind of people read this blog, I think he doesn't need an introduction... but I'll say he's the guy who made Dungeons and Dragons, just in case.

I know I should have written something about it yesterday, having enjoyed D&D for more than a decade, but it was a rather busy day at work, and I'm not too keen on composing panegyrics. Dead people are just dead people, anyway. I'll remember the D&D basic (red box) set fondly because "Dwarf" was a class, not a race, which, to the best of my knowledge, is a fact in real life. Especially in porn. Just like the little people involved in it, midget porn is a class of its own.

On a completely unrelated topic, the infamous Santa Cruz Operation (SCO) came back from the fucking dead last month (IIRC). Bloody hell, can't these fuckers stay dead? They went broke last year and some SOB had to give them $100 million to get them up and running. Now, if they had gone bankrupt in Europe they'd be royally screwed, but since this happened in the US, they filed Chapter 11, which grants them court protection, allowing them to stay in business. So much for "free market".

Humppa!

2008-02-03T23:06:00.000+01:00

Today I feel several orders of magnitude lazier than usual, so I'll just do what I once vowed never to do: I'll make a post made mainly out of Youtube videos. So much for oaths...

But they are good videos, I swear.

And for those who don't like metal, there will be acid house.

And of course, there will be sport.

And now, for something completely different.

In Spain we have a saying that goes...

2008-01-21T12:01:00.000+01:00

... "Those who go to sleep with children get up wet."

I'll explain it for those of you who insist of making a pedo joke out of that. One of the many annoying things children do, according to folklore, is piss all over themselves while they're sleeping, and it isn't because of a weird kink: it's because they are undeveloped humans unable to fully control their sphincters. Kind of like very old people with Alzheimer's, but the other way around and less forgetful.

The saying means that if you try something (ambitious) with unexperienced (and overall silly) people the results will probably be a piece of shit, a waste of your time, an embarrassing failure... I hope you catch my drift.

Today's piece is the story of one such failure. It takes place in the World of Warcraft, but it can be extrapolated to the real world. It features inexperience, inefficiency, disorganization, disregard for others' input and opinions a high employee... I mean, raider turnover and a blatant lack of knowledge of the medium, so I encourage anyone interested in leading a team (or taking one of those human resources bollocks courses) to throw away whatever they're reading and read this nerdish story so they'll know shit before they trip on it.

The whole thing started as usual, with an invite from a pick-up group for the Mana Tombs in Auchindoun (I think this would be the proper time to say that anything you can't understand from this paragraph onwards should be looked up here). The group was made up of a paladin (he dealt damage and healed a bit), a shaman (of the damage-dealing kind), a hunter (those are damage-dealers, always and no matter what they claim), a warrior (tank) and Yours Truly, a night elf rogue (damage-dealing).

After dealing with some Horde pests outside of the instance, we entered the entrance corridor to the Mana Tombs. After clearing the first few groups and slaying the first boss (a very easy one, the only secret to it is not hitting it while it's phased out, but most people never listen or think they know better, anyway...) the shaman politely said he's got to leave the group to go raiding with his main character, and in a couple of minutes we were looking for a replacement DPS, which shows the first few faults of character in the team members. The hunter didn't want another hunter in the team because he didn't want more competition for the hunter gear, so we ended up picking a shadow priest. On our way to the second boss, the repeated questions about the motives for the hunter not wanting another hunter in the team and the hunter's bickering (generally speaking, players whose main is a hunter are assholes, especially when it's a night-elf hunter, but I'll explain that later on) made the paladin leave, leaving us without a healer. From this point onwards, everything went downhill.

Proper healers being a scarce commodity in WoW, we had to "promote" our shadow priest to dedicated healer and look for another DPS, which this time happened to be a female human warlock. We got wiped once in a very silly and unexplainable way on our way to the second boss, which we toppled without any difficulty, and the hunter got the two-handed weapon he was looking for. The way to the second boss was marked, too, by what would be the leitmotiv for the rest of the instance: an arbitrary use of marks for crowd control, where focus wouldn't be the de facto standard skull, sap wouldn't be the coin and so on, and of course we had to ask many times before the hunter (who was the party leader at the time) explained what the fuck did those symbols mean. In layman's terms, it would be as if a cop used a pink smiley as a STOP sign and then gave you a ticket for skipping a STOP sign. Shortly after killing the second boss and a couple of stupid wipes, the tank, who had some talent points in the protection tree and thus was a proper tank, got pissed off and left and the warlock followed soon thereafter, so we had to look for another tank AND another DPS. The hunter promptly found a male gnome mage (male gnomes are generally stupid, stay the hell away from them unless you know them and/or they are from your guild and therefore liable for their screw-ups). I didn't like the way that was heading... with two assholes in the group, it was only a matter of time before they snapped because of each other's ineptitude and started cursing at each other, forgetting everything and everyone around them in the process.

The gnome called a dwarf warrior friend of his, who wound up as our tank, even though he was a DPS-specced warrior and not a proper tank, and that meant he'd lose aggro to me or to any of the casters very quickly, with potentially messy results. On our way to the last boss we suffered so many wipes and delays because of people going AFK, many times without even any warning, or pulling inadequately (e.g., pulling a group without clearing the patrols near it so that when polymorph or sap wore off they would aggro the whole fucking patrol, which added to deficient healing and crowd and poor aggro management would result in a wipe) that both the hunter and the mage snapped and started calling each other "asshole", "ninja-looter", "limp-handed", "fucking useless son of a bitch" and whatnot. After we (the other 3 team members) got them to shut up, we got to the room before the last boss, and after clearing it the warrior triggered an escort mission without asking anyone else, which eventually resulted in a party wipe, more insults between the mage and the hunter and me politely explaining that my gear was almost broken, that I had wasted two fucking hours and a half there for nothing and that I hoped I wouldn't hear from them anytime soon and goodbye.

To be honest, I can't imagine how the hell can anyone play a game for so long and still be unable to figure out the workings of his own character. Or is it that as soon as they're among non-guildies they forget the meaning of "respect"? I don't know which is worse...

Finally, I'll explain a bit about stupid races and classes. I have observed (and others have, too) that there's a rather large percentage among night elf hunters and male gnomes in general (in the Alliance) and among undead rogues and mages and blood elves in general (in the Horde) of stupid people. I haven't made any proper statistics yet, but if I ever have too much time to spare I'll do that. I think I can say in advance that male gnome characters' players are generally stupid because they probably think that an aged midget is funny and cool-looking, which it isn't. Being a midget is a fucking tragedy, it is only funny if someone else's the midget! How the hell can they interact with traders in the game if they are shorter than the counter?

I think I'll stop typing about that topic before it gets worse and about midget porn. More stuff, probably not about WoW and hopefully not so sad, at a later date.

The blackest day

2008-01-04T17:19:00.000+01:00

Yesterday I read in a newspaper that the Church of Scientology had been granted religion status in Spain. That had happened in the last days of October 2007, with little echo on the media. I can only wonder what kind of nutcases granted that status to the Co$ without bothering to take a look at the accusations of extortion, fraud, brainwashing and even murder that have been filed against that so-called Church all around the world, or at the reasons why it's banned on Germany and has been kicked out of Greece. Or even failed to notice the fraud lawsuits against them in this country.

I can only hope that someone in the know of these events can gather evidence to topple an organization that seeks to undermine the rights of the citizens on every country they operate in and that is known for trying to destroy their critics, either personally or financially, through framing and frivolous libel lawsuits.

It could be worse, at least we haven't got shitty libel legislation such as the UK's...

Money is money, and dead people is dead people

2008-01-03T00:34:00.000+01:00

A week and a half ago I had a very funny dream, featuring a machinegun and a mall. Surprisingly, the following day's evening my computer's power supply unit kicked the bucket. Coincidence? I think so.

My computer's PSU had been dying for a long time, probably screwing my computer components' lifespan. In fact, that PSU's death was the longest and most painful (if it was able to feel pain) I have ever witnessed (not that I have witnessed many deaths, or even any at all... when I got there, they were already dead and in a wooden box, or in a furnace!), only second to the life of some guy I bet 1 euro he'd commit suicide by 38 in a dead pool. Yes, I bet in dead pools.

Death is a funny, glorified thing, and I've got the right to make a profit, even if it's only 1 euro, which thanks to inflation shouldn't be enough to pay me a beer by the time I win it. Bastards.

Many people feel that betting on someone's death is a show of bad taste, because people are supposed to deal with death in a solemn, sanctimonious way. Most of these people are women, because they have "feelings", whatever that thing is, then there are some men who agree because they want to fall in the good graces of ladies nearby (in order to get laid, I suppose, I know some scummy people who would kill their mother and be sad about it to get laid, the desperate bastards), and then there are some idiots who are eager to get killed in gruesome ways for some silly abstract idea and they probably think it isn't cool to risk their asses for money if they don't get everyone's attention and admiration and then some, and they expect to be treated "with due reverence and respect" (sic), whatever that is. A stiff is a stiff, and I don't think it'll turn into gold ingots if you put it into a furnace... oh, wait, I unconsciously made one of those WWII jokes everyone frowns upon.

If death hadn't all that glorified bullshit aura and all that mistique around it, less stupid people would die in amusing ways and we wouldn't have the Darwin Awards for stupid people who succeed in removing themselves from the gene pool, like that poor bastard who wanted to disassemble rocket-propelled grenades with a hammer to sell the scrap metal. I'd rather risk being busted for illegal sale of weapons. Beats being dead any day of the week.

By the way, I was only kidding about that women's feelings thingy up there. There are times when you should be sad because of a death. That would be when a dog dies. Dogs are some of the coolest people around, and they have very short lifespans, which is a real shame. Also, when someone you know and you appreciate meets an untimely death in an unfunny fashion. I mean, if someone I knew died of a heart attack while fucking a hen I'd probably end up rolling on the floor laughing upon hearing the sad story of his demise.

Manga for dumbasses!

2007-07-09T16:09:00.000+01:00

This is a small rant (although the way I write rants, it won't be small by the time I am finished) about the latest manga series written specifically for dumbasses. There are many that fall in that category, but this one reeks like a stiff that has been in a bathtub for two weeks. I'm talking about Death Note. Hopefully, this will prevent someone from buying (or even reading) this piece of shit, which is on par with the Bible regarding the amount of bullshit in it.

Now, before anyone comes up with "don't talk about things you don't know", I have read Death Note (hey, I didn't have to pay for reading it, after all) and a large part of the Bible (which is a nice book if you take it as what it is: the kind of pulp fiction -rape, prostitution, drunken incest, slavery, treachery, bloodthirsty bastards and much more!- Machiavelli and Marquis de Sade would have written if they had lived in the 1960s).

The manga series begins nicely, with an apparently good premise: a megalomaniacal high school student (Raito Yagami) finds a notebook that allows to kill anyone whose name and face he knows by writing that person's name on the notebook, and decides that from that moment onwards he'll make sure justice will be served. After a few criminal-killing sprees, a top-notch detective known as "L" begins tracking him, and that's when everything turns into a pile of tripe.

Eventually "L" figures out who's the killer (via reasonings he pulls out of his ass, based on clues he pulls out of his ass) and ends up handcuffed 24/7 to Raito (because there are no proofs of him being the killer, and the modus operandi is still unknown). "L" reasons that there's a 97% (or something like that) chance that Raito is not the killer, but since it's not 100% he must monitor him around the clock (what the hell, he might believe in God, Santa Claus and the American Way of Life as well!).

The rest of the plot revolves around such astounding reasoning, and is sprinkled with plot twists like "Ha! I KNEW you'd do that, so I did this in advance, and I won't explain the specifics because the readers are a bunch of dumbasses and wouldn't understand anyway, so why bother...", and eventually (in the middle of the series) "L" gets killed by Raito thanks to the silliness of some other character, which is a good thing, because the way "L" sat, his back pains would have killed him eventually. Hey, maybe I gutted the goo... less bad part of the story, but I also saved you a lot of money and time. You're welcome.

After "L" dies, he is replaced by two emo kids whose names I can't remember, not that it matters. The plot twists and insults to the reader's intelligence increase manifold, and the stupidity of Raito's underlings becomes a major theme in the second half of the series. The most emo kid gets killed, and Raito's death follows shortly thereafter thanks to his most important puppet's stupidity. The end of the story is some weird and nonsensical scene about a cult dedicated to Raito's alias (Kira).

Man, if I had paid to read this, I might have paid to get fucked up the ass... if anyone who reads this ends up reading Death Note and complains, don't say I didn't warn.

Ned Ludd lives!!!

2007-03-20T12:31:00.000+01:00

Jesus fucking Christ... I have to write a compiled HTML help file for Microsoft SQL Server 2005 (among other things), the deadline's this Friday's afternoon and I've got a long way to go yet. Why the hell do I have to write documentation for a program someone else wrote? And why can't I plagiarize the stuff that's already written? I hope I won't have to see a Microsoft database or a projector for a really long time, or I might go berserk.

Projectors are THE tools of neuron destruction, I tell you. Even more than booze. When I was little, in class the teacher would teach a proper class. Nowadays you get PDF or those damn Powerpoint files with some dumbass reading them aloud (like I couldn't read them faster than them), the classroom darkened, while you drift into sleep, only to awaken when your head hits the keyboard. Some of these classes are worse than watching the Dungeons & Dragons movie (the one where gold and red dragons are stupid non-sentient reptiles who spit flaming fur balls and the final dragon battle is a rip-off of Star Wars).

And the dudes who wrote MSSQL Server 2005... let's say that they're a bunch of motherfucking sons of bitches. I haven't seen another database server whose service crashes while detaching a database... and then refuses to re-attach it. Bastards.

Twenty-twoooo... the avenueeeee...

2007-03-12T11:27:00.000+01:00

Holy shit, I've been trying to go out with Charlotte the Harlot and I didn't figure it out until yesterday! Serves me right for being too patient... it should have been obvious when she turned Saturday night into a watered-down version of After Hours (actually, I'm partly to blame for that, because her handbag was stolen right under my nose, but I guess it would have been like that if it was someone else instead of me).

Damn it, I should be directing porn movies instead of complaining about someone else's slutty behaviour. Not that it's my favourite genre of movies (though I watch it regularly... thank DARPA for the Internet! And let's not forget Tim Berners-Lee! I wouldn't be able to see so much porn if he hadn't invented HTML and the Hypertext Transfer Protocol!), but if a movie producer read a script written by me he wouldn't let me direct anything but smut. And I've got a lot of good ideas!

For example, my latest craze is about mixing the peplum (Roman Empire-themed movies) and jigaideki (Edo era-themed samurai movies), which might result in, well, The Seven Centurions and A Better Ides of March (this last one's a parody of a John Woo movie, though), with characters such as Decimus Primus Hasegawa, Marcus Tullius Takeda or Iulius Augustus Nobunaga, people with togae and a daisho (that's a set made of a katana and a wakizashi -a japanese short sword-) and samurais (clad in samurai armor) armed with a pilum, a gladius and a square shield (in turtle formation!). The goths and other foreigners would be "foreign devils" instead of "barbarians". And the apparition of a galley or quinquereme called Yamato would be mandatory! Centurions with freaking lasers on their helmets!!!

I've been discussing this topic over IM with a friend of mine (Ryoru, the guest writer for this blog, if he ever decides to write something here, which I suppose he'll eventually do) and he came up with some great ideas, such as japanese-style gladius duels in the Arena (that is, both opponents stare at each other for a long time while preparing to draw their short swords out and everything is decided with a single slash), and a lot of ideas for a script which could be entitled The Ides of Kagemaru, but that's another story...

Three banzai for the Republic!

Arrrrr!!!

2007-02-05T10:47:00.000+01:00

This weekend I played "Pirates Vikings and Knights 2" for Half-Life 2. Although it's still in beta, it looks promising! And you don't get to see many games with ludicrous themes such as this one. The only aspect where I found it lacking was the absence of ninjas... I mean, pirates, but no ninjas?

Also, this weekend I made yet another fatal mistake. I trimmed down my beard, for a girl. The girl was nowhere to be seen. And if I hadn't trimmed down my beard for a couple of weeks more, I could have braided it (yeah, I have wanted to do that ever since I started listening to viking and folk metal). Now, there's no girl and no braids in my beard, at least for a long, long time.

The moral is: don't trim down your beard unless you've got a sure-fire way to trade that for sex or money (money being more important, because you can trade it for sex and other services and goods), unless, of course, you're into that sort of thing. That piece of advice also applies to ladies who live in a world of strange fetishes and freak genetic mishaps.

"¡Invítame a una copa!" ("Buy me a drink!", en español)

2007-01-31T15:51:00.000+01:00

¡Por un pavo y medio, pasen y vean a los enanos y otros monstruos de la naturaleza!

Como ésta es el primer artículo en mi blog, me gustaría señalar que el título que le quería dar originalmente era "Bukkake-dono's Castle" (creo que no necesito traducir la parte importante), pero como no me acuerdo de cómo era el Acuerdo de Servicio decidí no hacerlo. Por si acaso, ¿sabéis? Porque Google, al fin y al cabo, es una compañía norteamericana, y en ése país la violencia en las películas y videojuegos es aceptable - pero no el sexo (sí, lo sé, es un estereotipo), mientras que en Alemania esos niveles de violencia no serían aceptables -de hecho, muchos juegos de allí están verboten o bastante censurados- ¡pero puedes conseguir vídeos de guarras méandose una por encima de otra! Yo vivo en España, país de libertad, en el que puedo conseguir toda la violencia y el porno que quiera (menos por las armas, pero no necesito violencia DE VERDAD).

Coño, iba a hablar de porqué no escogí "Bukkake-dono's Castle" ¡y ya he tenido que sacar las guarradas de watersports sin venir a cuento! En fin, estoy divagando, así que me pondré con el tema original...

"¡Invítame a una copa!" - VERSIÓN EXTENDIDA (Una diatriba muy, muy triste por Mr. Daniels, con texto fusilado de su mensaje en los foros de Battlelore)

Ésta es una versión extendida de una de mis diatribas en los foros de Battlelore. El tema era del tipo "qué te ha alegrado el día" (en plan Harry el Sucio), y lo que me jodía era MSSQL 2005, Visual Studio 2005, algunas actitudes, y...

Y que la gente me use como una especie de escudo... ¿tengo 'SPQR' o algo parecido escrito en el pecho? Al único tío que me hizo eso (un amigo mío que se vió enfrentado a un drogata bastante coñazo, y recurrió a lo de "si no te esfumas, éste tío grande te romperá las rodillas") le avisé de que eso me molestaba y nunca lo volvió a hacer. El resto (de gente que lo hace) son invariablemente mujeres, y siempre es por capullos enclenques que no entienden "vete a la mierda" a menos que se lo digas literalmente. Ellas van y dicen "éste es mi novio" (por cierto, me ocurrió OTRA VEZ el viernes pasado), y el zurraspas -que a veces resulta que es el tipo con el que la tía se estuvo enrollando el fin de semana pasado, o durante los últimos dos meses, y no creo que esos pobres idiotas merezcan ser tratados de esa manera- parece como que ha visto una aparición o algo así y dice que tiene que irse a otro sitio. Juro que uno de éstos días diré "limpia tu propia mierda" en vez de seguir la corriente, no importa lo mal que eso me haga quedar, porque estoy harto de que me ocurra una y otra vez.

Otro clásico es "invítame a una copa" (con o sin "Por favor...", etc.); esto ocurre tan a menudo como lo anterior. Me cabrea más todavía, porque sólo lo hacen chicas que me gustan cuando quieren tratarme como a un gilipollas (me ha ocurrido varias veces en el pasado, y he picado unas cuantas). En plan, joder, pienso con mi puto nabo y una cara bonita y un par de buenas tetas van a convertirme en un cajero automático. Éste tipo de comportamiento, repetido una y otra vez, ha acabado en esto:

-"¡Don Corleone! ¡Invítame a una copa!" (¡Y lo pide en imperativo... digo, sin ningún respeto!)
-"Eso, no puedo."

Esa es la conversación verbatim. Excepo por lo de "¡Don Corleone!", porque:

a) No es mi nombre.
b) Tienden a olvidarlo y a decir cualquier nombre que empieza por "D" (a veces aciertan). Personalmente me disgusta menos cuando, sin saberlo, hacen la coña de "El Ejército de las Tinieblas" (en plan "Klatu, verata... ¡Nhmhmhmherrg!")

Pero aparte de eso, nada de "Hola", nada de "¿Qué tal?", ni siquiera "Hey". ¿Qué tipo de saludo es ése? ¿Uno que no termina con una preposición? [NOTA: en inglés se considera un error gramatical terminar una frase con una preposición, así que no os quejéis cuando os crujan en el examen] Imagináoslo, véis a alguien por primera vez en toda la noche y oíis "Invítame a una copa". Es la hostia de surrealista, y ni siquiera de una forma divertida (p.ej.: decir "¡El camarrada Secrretário General Stalin dice que tienes que invitarrme a una copa!" con uno de esos gorros rusos peludos puesto, o algo así de absurdo). En estos tiempos, ¿a dónde han ido a parar los buenos modales? Una cosa es pedir una conversación inteligente -o coherente- a las 4 de la mañana (a esa hora, e incluso más temprano, hay un desierto mental por ahí), y otra cosa es pedir un poco de cortesía común, pero me imagino que no estar borracho ayuda a no tratar a los demás como idiotas. Bebo. Más de lo que debería. Pero al menos me comporto adecuadamente.

Lo que me recuerda a aquello de "Estaba borracha y no sabía lo que hacía", que es una excusa bastante estúpida para cualquier cosa, o avisar de que se está borracho de antemano para tener carta blanca para todo. Venga ya, todo el mundo se cuece tanto que no recuerda lo que hace, pero muy de vez en cuando, no todos los putos fines de semana. Sólo los alcohólicos contumaces hacen eso, y, aunque ésto es Galicia, no creo que haya tantos.

Para terminar ésto con un matiz más alegre, os contaré una idea acojonante que tuve el fin de semana pasado mientras bajaba con mi mejor amigo:

"-Eh, tío, ¿no sería la caña ir en bolas, o sólo con pañales, en una de esas sillas de ruedas eléctricas que tienen los paralines con pasta? De ésas en las que te sientas, no las de ir de pie... creo que había una chica enana en mi clase que tenía una de ésas, ¿sabes? ¡Ah! Y la silla tendría tres mangueras de pitanza, como la cama del Gobernador Phatt del Monkey Island 2, y una manguera de vapor para bañarse.
-¿Y porqué no una manguera de agua?
-¡Sí, eso! Una manguera de agua caliente para mojar a las tías y que la ropa se les pegue al cuerpo... jejeje..."

¡Meditad sobre esa idea, y que vuestro dios de la guerra favorito os dé fuerzas!

FRIST PSOT!!! - "Buy Me a Drink" Extended

2007-01-30T13:16:00.000+01:00

For just one dollar and fifty cents, come inside and see the midgets and other freaks of nature!

Since this is the first entry in my blog, I'd like to point out that the title I had originally intended for it was "Bukkake-dono's Castle", but since I can't remember well the Terms of Service I decided otherwise. Just in case, mind you. Because Google is a North American company, after all, and in that country movie and video-game violence are acceptable - but not sex (yeah, I know, I'm stereotyping), whereas in Germany such a degree of violence wouldn't be acceptable -indeed, many games there are verboten or heavily censored- but you can get videos of tramps pissing on each other! I live in Spain, country of freedom, where I can get all the violence and pornography I want (except for guns, but I don't need REAL violence).

Hell, I was going to talk about why I didn't choose "Bukkake-dono's Castle" and I already pulled out watersports for no reason at all! I'm digressing, so I'll get on with the original topic...

"Buy Me a Drink" - EXTENDED! (A sad, sad rant by Mr. Daniels, with text ripped off from his post in the Battlelore forums)

This is an extended version of one of my rants posted on the Battlelore forums. The topic was a "what made your day" (in a Dirty Harry sort of way) one, and what buggered me was MSSQL 2005, Visual Studio 2005, some attitudes, and...

And people using me as a shield of sorts... do I have 'SPQR' or something like that written across my chest? The only man who did it (a friend of mine who, when confronted with an obnoxious junkie, resorted to "if you don't fuck off this big guy here will break your knees") was warned about it by me and never, ever did that again. The rest are invariably women, and it's always about scrawny assholes who don't understand "fuck off" unless you say it literally. They go and say "this is my boyfriend" (this happened AGAIN last Friday), and the scrawny guy -who sometimes happens to be the guy with whom the girl was making out last weekend, or for the last two months, and I don't think those poor idiots deserve that kind of treatment- looks like he just saw a ghost or something, and says he's gotta go somewhere else. I swear that one of these days I'll say "clean your own mess" instead of playing along the routine, no matter how bad will that make me look, because I'm tired of it happening again and again.

Another classic is "buy me a drink" (with our without "would you...", etc.); this happens as often as the previous one. This one grinds my gears even more, because it is only done by girls I'm interested in when they want to make a fool out of me (has happened several times in the past, and I have fallen for it a few times). Like, hell, I think with my dick and a nice face and a pair of boobs are going to turn me into an ATM. This kind of behaviour repeated over time has finally resulted in this:

-"Don Corleone! Buy me a drink!" (And she asks with no modal verbs... I mean, with no respect!)
-"That, I cannot do."

That's the exact conversation. Except for the "Don Corleone!" bit, because:

a) That's not my name.
b) They tend to forget it and say any name that begins with "D" (sometimes the right one). I personally dislike it less when they unwittingly make the "Army of Darkness" joke (as in "Klaatu, barada... Nhmhmhmherrg!")

But other than that, no "Hello", no "How are you?", not even "Hi". What the hell of a greeting is that? One that doesn't end with a preposition? Just imagine it, you see someone for the first time in the whole night and you hear "Buy me a drink". It's fucking ludicrous, and not even in a funny way (e.g.: saying "Comrade Chairman Stalin said that you must buy me a drink!" with one of those furry russian hats on, or something as silly as that). In this day and age, where have good manners gone? One thing is asking for an intelligent -or coherent- conversation at 4 am (at that time, and even at an earlier one, there's a mental wasteland out there!), and other is asking for some damn common courtesy, but I guess not being drunk kind of helps with not treating others like assholes. I drink. More than I should. But at least I behave properly.

Which reminds me of "I was drunk and I didn't know what I was doing", which is a very stupid excuse for anything, or claiming that you are drunk beforehand so that you get carte blanche for anything. Come on, everyone gets so hammered that they can't remember what they did, but a couple of times in several years, not every fucking weekend. Only hardcore alcoholics do that, and though this is Galicia, I don't think there are so many.

To end this in a lighter note, I'll tell about a really cool idea I had last week when going out with my best friend:

"-Hey, man, wouldn't it be cool to go around naked, or with diapers only, in one of those battery-operated wheelchairs some cool cripples have? The ones you sit in, not the ones you stand up in... I think there was a midget girl in my class who had one of those, you know. Oh! And the wheelchair would have three food hoses, like Governor Phatt's bed from Monkey Island 2, and a steam hose for bathing.
-What about a water hose?
-Yeah, right! A warm water hose to spray the ladies so that their clothes will stick to their bodies... hehehe..."

Meditate about that, and may the war god of your choice give you strength!