Some of you may be old enough to remember the Super Friends. If not, it was an incredibly cheesy '70s kid show with your favorite DC characters.
Two of the characters, Zan and Jann, were teenage alien shapeshifters known as the Wonder Twins. How they became Super Friends is a mystery, as is why they hang out with a monkey named Gleep.
Jan, the girl, could change shape into most anything. Zan, the guy, could only take water-based forms.
Armed with that knowledge, you're ready to watch a Wonder Twin parady that is truly hysterical.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qdZ4JgGm2p4
Cheers,
-Jason
Thursday, November 29, 2007
A Hero Is Born
So, long story short, I have been rear-ended twice in the last three weeks. Both times I was not moving and was rammed by an SUV. I am fine, thanks for asking, but my truck has taken a beating.
This, however, is not a rant about SUVs and the people that drive them. Granted, my truck is a small (even smaller now, actually), but it is not invisible or anything.
Or is it?
My theory is that for some unexplained reason, possibly due to the copious amounts of fajitas, teriyaki, and kung-pao chicken I eat, I have acquired a super power. My truck, when I am in it and it is sitting completely still, becomes invisible to SUVs. I am not sure if I become invisible as well, but I would hazard a 'yes' to that (further testing is required).
This leads to two fundamental questions: how do I use this power for good and what will my super hero name be? Secondary questions would include: Can I make money from this and will this help me get dates?
So how can I use this power for good? Not sure, unless there is an evil SUV gang out there. I could stop my truck near their base/lair and do surveillance. Potentially, I could actually stop inside their base/lair and listen in on their conversations.
Evil SUV Gang Leader: “. . . and then once the guards are incapacitated, we will- wait, do you hear that?”
Evil SUV Grunt: “What?”
Evil SUV Gang Leader: “Music. It sounds like . . .Garbage ‘I’m Only Happy When It Rains’.”
Evil SUV Grunt: “Maybe it’s coming from that invisible pickup over there?”
Evil SUV Gang Leader: “You mean the one that smells like fajitas?”
Mental Note: I need to remember to turn off the radio when surveilling.
The second question is what will I call myself? Invisible-to-SUVs-When-Not-Moving-Man is accurate, but hard to say. Inviso-Truck might work. Ghost Driver is cool, but it doesn’t actually work when I’m moving. The SUV Watcher just make me sound like a nutjob.
I will figure it out eventually.
So remember, if you ever need an SUV covertly watched, call me, The Phantom Pickup!
Nah, that doesn’t work either. I’ll think about it whilst shopping for tights.
Cheers,
-Jason
This, however, is not a rant about SUVs and the people that drive them. Granted, my truck is a small (even smaller now, actually), but it is not invisible or anything.
Or is it?
My theory is that for some unexplained reason, possibly due to the copious amounts of fajitas, teriyaki, and kung-pao chicken I eat, I have acquired a super power. My truck, when I am in it and it is sitting completely still, becomes invisible to SUVs. I am not sure if I become invisible as well, but I would hazard a 'yes' to that (further testing is required).
This leads to two fundamental questions: how do I use this power for good and what will my super hero name be? Secondary questions would include: Can I make money from this and will this help me get dates?
So how can I use this power for good? Not sure, unless there is an evil SUV gang out there. I could stop my truck near their base/lair and do surveillance. Potentially, I could actually stop inside their base/lair and listen in on their conversations.
Evil SUV Gang Leader: “. . . and then once the guards are incapacitated, we will- wait, do you hear that?”
Evil SUV Grunt: “What?”
Evil SUV Gang Leader: “Music. It sounds like . . .Garbage ‘I’m Only Happy When It Rains’.”
Evil SUV Grunt: “Maybe it’s coming from that invisible pickup over there?”
Evil SUV Gang Leader: “You mean the one that smells like fajitas?”
Mental Note: I need to remember to turn off the radio when surveilling.
The second question is what will I call myself? Invisible-to-SUVs-When-Not-Moving-Man is accurate, but hard to say. Inviso-Truck might work. Ghost Driver is cool, but it doesn’t actually work when I’m moving. The SUV Watcher just make me sound like a nutjob.
I will figure it out eventually.
So remember, if you ever need an SUV covertly watched, call me, The Phantom Pickup!
Nah, that doesn’t work either. I’ll think about it whilst shopping for tights.
Cheers,
-Jason
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Freedom: $19.95: Part 2
So, yesterday I explained the basic economic problems of Hellgate. Now let’s see how it might play out.
“Oh my,” said the merchant. “You’re Dirk Squarejaw! You punched out the Demon of London! You spanked the Seven Succulent Succubi of Sussex! You defeated, gutted, and then barbequed with remains of the Rather Tasty Ox of Stratford-Upon-Avon!” The merchant saluted. “It is an honor and a privilege to serve you!”
Dirk returned the salute. “Just doin’ my job. Now then, we’re at the end-game. I’ve fought my way through thousands of demons and now we have a real shot at closing those Doors for good. In an hour, I’ll be leading five-hundred of our finest into desperate battle and we’ll need some supplies.”
“Absolutely!” The merchant gestured at the racks of goods behind him. “My store is yours!”
“Fantastic.” Dirk pulled out a piece of paper, unfolded it, and began to read. “We’ll need 50,000 rounds of 7.62mm, 2,000 grenades, 257 bullet-proof vests, 28 phased plasma pulse-lasers in the 40 watt range, 712 tuna-fish sandwiches, hold the pickles on 137 of those, 311 vibro-swords, 17 blow-up dolls, 1100 bottles of beer, a bottle-opener – wait, make it two bottle openers, and a Barbie lunchbox.”
“One moment,” the merchant ran his finger through his inventory sheet, his lips moving as he scanned the text. “I think we have everything in stock. It’ll take some doing, but we should be able to have everything ready in 40-minutes.”
“Perfect! You may very well have saved the world!”
“Wonderful. That’ll be $37,412 and we only take cash.” He gestured at the dead charge card reader. “Visa has been down for months now.”
Dirk stood there for a moment, staring at the merchant. “Umm . . . what?”
“$37,412. Well, technically, $37,412.28, but we won’t worry about the change.”
“You’re going to charge me?”
The merchant blinked. “Well, this is a store.”
Dirk leaned forward on the counter, getting very close to the merchant. “Perhaps you don’t understand the situation. If we don’t get those supplies, humanity ceases to exist.” He gestured around. “All of this, everyone, me, you, will be gone.”
The merchant leaned forward as well. “Perhaps you don’t understand basic economic principles? Supply and demand? Goods and services?”
“But what about humanity and the world?”
“What about my bottom line? Do you even have any money?”
Dirk reached into a pouch on his harness and pulled out a wad of cash. “I have, maybe, 50 bucks. And a coupon. “Buy a tuna-fish sandwich and get one for free.’”
The merchant plucked the coupon from Dirk’s hand and glanced at the fine print. “This coupon is expired.” He wadded it up and tossed it into the waste bin.
Dirk held up a hand, but only managed a few inarticulate grunts before his shoulders sagged and he turned away. “Start gathering rocks and sticks, boys,” he announced. “We’re going to do this old school.”
Cheers,
-Jason
“Oh my,” said the merchant. “You’re Dirk Squarejaw! You punched out the Demon of London! You spanked the Seven Succulent Succubi of Sussex! You defeated, gutted, and then barbequed with remains of the Rather Tasty Ox of Stratford-Upon-Avon!” The merchant saluted. “It is an honor and a privilege to serve you!”
Dirk returned the salute. “Just doin’ my job. Now then, we’re at the end-game. I’ve fought my way through thousands of demons and now we have a real shot at closing those Doors for good. In an hour, I’ll be leading five-hundred of our finest into desperate battle and we’ll need some supplies.”
“Absolutely!” The merchant gestured at the racks of goods behind him. “My store is yours!”
“Fantastic.” Dirk pulled out a piece of paper, unfolded it, and began to read. “We’ll need 50,000 rounds of 7.62mm, 2,000 grenades, 257 bullet-proof vests, 28 phased plasma pulse-lasers in the 40 watt range, 712 tuna-fish sandwiches, hold the pickles on 137 of those, 311 vibro-swords, 17 blow-up dolls, 1100 bottles of beer, a bottle-opener – wait, make it two bottle openers, and a Barbie lunchbox.”
“One moment,” the merchant ran his finger through his inventory sheet, his lips moving as he scanned the text. “I think we have everything in stock. It’ll take some doing, but we should be able to have everything ready in 40-minutes.”
“Perfect! You may very well have saved the world!”
“Wonderful. That’ll be $37,412 and we only take cash.” He gestured at the dead charge card reader. “Visa has been down for months now.”
Dirk stood there for a moment, staring at the merchant. “Umm . . . what?”
“$37,412. Well, technically, $37,412.28, but we won’t worry about the change.”
“You’re going to charge me?”
The merchant blinked. “Well, this is a store.”
Dirk leaned forward on the counter, getting very close to the merchant. “Perhaps you don’t understand the situation. If we don’t get those supplies, humanity ceases to exist.” He gestured around. “All of this, everyone, me, you, will be gone.”
The merchant leaned forward as well. “Perhaps you don’t understand basic economic principles? Supply and demand? Goods and services?”
“But what about humanity and the world?”
“What about my bottom line? Do you even have any money?”
Dirk reached into a pouch on his harness and pulled out a wad of cash. “I have, maybe, 50 bucks. And a coupon. “Buy a tuna-fish sandwich and get one for free.’”
The merchant plucked the coupon from Dirk’s hand and glanced at the fine print. “This coupon is expired.” He wadded it up and tossed it into the waste bin.
Dirk held up a hand, but only managed a few inarticulate grunts before his shoulders sagged and he turned away. “Start gathering rocks and sticks, boys,” he announced. “We’re going to do this old school.”
Cheers,
-Jason
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Freedom: $19.95: Part 1
I’ve been playing Hellgate: London lately. Overall, it’s okay. The cool stuff (fighting demons, lottsa loot, cool graphics) is balanced out by the bad stuff (performance issues, bad UI, broken single-player campaign) which gives it an over-all score of ‘meh.’
However, one aspect of the game that amuses me is the fact that you can buy and sell things from a merchant. This might not seem particularly noteworthy, as buying and selling stuff has long been a staple of RPGs, but consider that the plot of Hellgate goes like this:
The Doors of Hell have been opened and demons by the untold millions are streaming forth. Humanity is pretty much circling the toilet, fighting desperately to prevent that final flush. You, as the stereotypical hero, must fight off the demon hordes, defeat the Big Bad, close the Doors, and save the day. The fate of the world, as you are told rather frequently, hinges on you.
The local merchants, however, charge you for healing packs.
Yep, you collect money, both by picking it up and selling loot, and you can then BUY stuff from the merchant. You would think that they would be happy to give you what you needed, but no, all the merchants seem to have gone to the Ferengi School of Retail. Profit is apparently more important than the fate of humanity.
Tomorrow: Merchant: 1, Fate of Humanity: 0
However, one aspect of the game that amuses me is the fact that you can buy and sell things from a merchant. This might not seem particularly noteworthy, as buying and selling stuff has long been a staple of RPGs, but consider that the plot of Hellgate goes like this:
The Doors of Hell have been opened and demons by the untold millions are streaming forth. Humanity is pretty much circling the toilet, fighting desperately to prevent that final flush. You, as the stereotypical hero, must fight off the demon hordes, defeat the Big Bad, close the Doors, and save the day. The fate of the world, as you are told rather frequently, hinges on you.
The local merchants, however, charge you for healing packs.
Yep, you collect money, both by picking it up and selling loot, and you can then BUY stuff from the merchant. You would think that they would be happy to give you what you needed, but no, all the merchants seem to have gone to the Ferengi School of Retail. Profit is apparently more important than the fate of humanity.
Tomorrow: Merchant: 1, Fate of Humanity: 0
Monday, November 26, 2007
Site Redesign
Greetings and salutations,
Our site redesign has gone very well, with only a few minor problems to report. Thanks to everyone who let us know about the bugs they found.
However, if you originally linked to the comic via the comic page (as opposed to going through the front page), you will find that your link no longer works. This is because all the pages are now displayed on the front page.
So, if you haven't figured this out already, here is the correct link to reach the comic: http://www.wayfarersmoon.com/.
Tune in Tuesday for a new page and a new blog (hint: end-of-the-world discounts).
Cheers,
-Jason
Our site redesign has gone very well, with only a few minor problems to report. Thanks to everyone who let us know about the bugs they found.
However, if you originally linked to the comic via the comic page (as opposed to going through the front page), you will find that your link no longer works. This is because all the pages are now displayed on the front page.
So, if you haven't figured this out already, here is the correct link to reach the comic: http://www.wayfarersmoon.com/.
Tune in Tuesday for a new page and a new blog (hint: end-of-the-world discounts).
Cheers,
-Jason
Friday, November 23, 2007
Troops
An oldie, but a goodie for your weekend viewing pleasure.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CO3WRkVMF2M
Rumor has it that this was a completely fan-made production. Enjoy!
Cheers,
-Jason
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CO3WRkVMF2M
Rumor has it that this was a completely fan-made production. Enjoy!
Cheers,
-Jason
Thursday, November 22, 2007
The Problem with Thanksgiving: Part 3
Thanksgiving is also lacking any real personalities. Let’s face it: Pilgrims are rather dull. Aside from the odd hats and big collars, they’re not particularly memorable.
Halloween has Dracula, Jack Skellington, the Headless Horseman, Elvira, and a host of psychotic murderers. I’m pretty sure even a third-rate psycho could take out a whole village of Pilgrims without even needing to adjust his mask. It wouldn’t even be a fight. All the Pilgrims have are some muskets and the odd turkey. The psycho wouldn’t even need a machete. He’d just beat them to death with pumpkin pies.
Best Idea Ever: A horror-flick based in a Pilgrim village where the psychopath kills people with pumpkin pies. It could be called The Pieman.
Christmas, of course, has the biggest personality of them all. He’s so big, I even hesitate to mention him. After all, who doesn’t know the name Yukon Cornelius?
C’mon, you remember Yukon Cornelius? The prospector from Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer? He fought the Abominable Snowman and fell off the cliff? He was totally my hero when I was a kid.
Who am I kidding? He’s still my hero. The man fought an abominable snowman three times his size with a pick. He’s like a singing, prospecting Rambo. You don’t get much more heroic than that.
Compared to the other holidays, Thanksgiving is just . . . blah. It doesn’t have theme music (though Amariah did point me towards a close contender) nor does it have a recognizable face. It seems to be wholly unmarketable.
But maybe that’s for the best.
Halloween is all about parties, costumes, and candy. Christmas has been merchandised into a shopping extravaganza. These are not necessarily bad things.
Thanksgiving, the ugly stepchild of holidays, still seems to be about spending time with family and friends. I’m pretty sure this is a good thing.
Cheers,
-Jason
Halloween has Dracula, Jack Skellington, the Headless Horseman, Elvira, and a host of psychotic murderers. I’m pretty sure even a third-rate psycho could take out a whole village of Pilgrims without even needing to adjust his mask. It wouldn’t even be a fight. All the Pilgrims have are some muskets and the odd turkey. The psycho wouldn’t even need a machete. He’d just beat them to death with pumpkin pies.
Best Idea Ever: A horror-flick based in a Pilgrim village where the psychopath kills people with pumpkin pies. It could be called The Pieman.
Christmas, of course, has the biggest personality of them all. He’s so big, I even hesitate to mention him. After all, who doesn’t know the name Yukon Cornelius?
C’mon, you remember Yukon Cornelius? The prospector from Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer? He fought the Abominable Snowman and fell off the cliff? He was totally my hero when I was a kid.
Who am I kidding? He’s still my hero. The man fought an abominable snowman three times his size with a pick. He’s like a singing, prospecting Rambo. You don’t get much more heroic than that.
Compared to the other holidays, Thanksgiving is just . . . blah. It doesn’t have theme music (though Amariah did point me towards a close contender) nor does it have a recognizable face. It seems to be wholly unmarketable.
But maybe that’s for the best.
Halloween is all about parties, costumes, and candy. Christmas has been merchandised into a shopping extravaganza. These are not necessarily bad things.
Thanksgiving, the ugly stepchild of holidays, still seems to be about spending time with family and friends. I’m pretty sure this is a good thing.
Cheers,
-Jason
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
The Problem with Thanksgiving: Part 2
Quick! Name a Thanksgiving-themed song? Did you think of even one? Nope? Well, don’t worry about it, I couldn’t think of one either. I even googled ‘thanksgiving music’ and all I got was an Adam Sandler song. I’m not sure that counts.
Now try and think of a Halloween song! I immediately thought of the Monster Mash (he did the mash!), a song I've loved since I was big enough to memorize the words and sing it endlessly until my parents told me to stop or they’d send back to the zoo they got me from. I’m partially kidding (the orangutans used to wave at me).
Christmas, as you all well know, is the musical equivalent of a baseball bat. I appreciate Silent Night the first couple of times I hear it. I begin to loathe it by about December 2nd and truly start to hate it by about the 5th. By the 25th, I have heard the song roughly 11,378 times, a number I completely made up.
Let’s face it, there are enough versions of Silent Night floating around that you could probably 24-hours a day without repeating a performer. I will not even mention the 53-million other Christmas songs, though I just did.
We can all sing Silent Night. We can fake the Monster Mash. There isn’t even anything to hum for Thanksgiving. Of course, we could always rewrite the Monster Mash to have a Thanksgiving theme.
He wore a hat! It was a Pilgrim hat! He wore a hat! It was tall and flat! Etc.
Sorry, I’ll stop now.
Tomorrow: Pilgrims vs. Psychopaths – Who Would Win? (hint: the guy with the machete)
Now try and think of a Halloween song! I immediately thought of the Monster Mash (he did the mash!), a song I've loved since I was big enough to memorize the words and sing it endlessly until my parents told me to stop or they’d send back to the zoo they got me from. I’m partially kidding (the orangutans used to wave at me).
Christmas, as you all well know, is the musical equivalent of a baseball bat. I appreciate Silent Night the first couple of times I hear it. I begin to loathe it by about December 2nd and truly start to hate it by about the 5th. By the 25th, I have heard the song roughly 11,378 times, a number I completely made up.
Let’s face it, there are enough versions of Silent Night floating around that you could probably 24-hours a day without repeating a performer. I will not even mention the 53-million other Christmas songs, though I just did.
We can all sing Silent Night. We can fake the Monster Mash. There isn’t even anything to hum for Thanksgiving. Of course, we could always rewrite the Monster Mash to have a Thanksgiving theme.
He wore a hat! It was a Pilgrim hat! He wore a hat! It was tall and flat! Etc.
Sorry, I’ll stop now.
Tomorrow: Pilgrims vs. Psychopaths – Who Would Win? (hint: the guy with the machete)
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
The Problem with Thanksgiving: Part 1
Thanksgiving is nearly upon us and frankly, it isn’t what it used to be. Back when I was a kid in the 1880’s, Thanksgiving was a major holiday, number two of the Big Three: Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.
For my readers across the pond: Thanksgiving is a uniquely American holiday celebrating when the first European settlers gave thanks for having survived the trip and were enjoying the bounty offered by the New World. It is remembered by Native Americans somewhat differently. They refer to it as We Should’ve Taken Them Out When Had the Chance Day.
Nowadays, the Christmas decorations go up immediately after the Halloween decorations come down. Thanksgiving is merely a blip on the commercial radar that is the holidays.
So, what happened? Why did Thanksgiving fade to number 3, allowing Halloween to take the coveted number 2 position?
The answer is, of course, marketing.
Tomorrow: Pilgrims and their hats
For my readers across the pond: Thanksgiving is a uniquely American holiday celebrating when the first European settlers gave thanks for having survived the trip and were enjoying the bounty offered by the New World. It is remembered by Native Americans somewhat differently. They refer to it as We Should’ve Taken Them Out When Had the Chance Day.
Nowadays, the Christmas decorations go up immediately after the Halloween decorations come down. Thanksgiving is merely a blip on the commercial radar that is the holidays.
So, what happened? Why did Thanksgiving fade to number 3, allowing Halloween to take the coveted number 2 position?
The answer is, of course, marketing.
Tomorrow: Pilgrims and their hats
Monday, November 19, 2007
Thanksgiving Caption Contest
In honor of our special Thanksgiving picture and because the Halloween Contest went so well, we have decided to hold another Caption Contest.
As you can see in the picture to the left, Lily is preparing to engage a turkey in mortal combat. What's on her mind? What's on the turkey's mind? You tell us. Simply log onto the forum, find the Thanksgiving Caption Contest thread and post your favorite captions. Post as many as you like, there's no limit.
Later in the week, Leigh and I will decide which one we like best and the winner will get a special desktop of the Thanksgiving picture, as well as have their caption featured in the full-color artwork.
For those not already on the forum, the button is on the upper right hand side of the main Wayfarers Moon page (http://www.wayfarersmoon.com/).
Also, note that there are two new desktop rewards available for donators! See the thumbnails at the top right of the site pages, just below the ad banner. We have a Haith and an M'Kot desktop! Click the donate button and follow the instructions through to download the full size images!
Happy Thanksgiving,
-Jason and Leigh
Friday, November 16, 2007
Sock Baby
This is one of the weirdest, funniest things I have seen in a very long time.
http://www.sockbaby.com/
Just watch it. Trust me.
Cheers,
-Jason
http://www.sockbaby.com/
Just watch it. Trust me.
Cheers,
-Jason
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Cheese Anyone?
I read an article the other week about a new, genetically superior breed of mice that has been developed. I cannot now find said article, but essentially, the mouse had amazing cardiovascular ability, was stronger, lived longer, and could eat junk food all day and still remain slim.
Anyone who has ever read a science fiction or horror novel can see what is coming next: one of the little buggers will escape.
A scientist, flushed with success, will forget one tiny detail. The cage holding the mouse was not rated for super-vermin. A mouse will escape and create a mouse kingdom, which will be populated by his genetically gifted offspring. Some of the new mice will espouse the ways of Mickey, but others will follow Ignatz, the Thrower of Bricks. There will be a civil war and the Ignatzians will triumph and begin their grand scheme to throw a brick at the world.
They will start small, possibly by eliminating the cats, but once the felines are out of the picture, we all know who will be next. Us. We cannot even keep regular mice out of our houses, what chance do we have against super mice with machine guns? They will have television. They will know what has been done to their species and they will be ticked off.
Our only hope is to create a species of genetically enhanced cats with opposable thumbs, which they will need to be able to operate their little chainsaws. This, of course, brings up a whole new set of problems. Namely, not changing the litter in a timely fashion could have some serious consequences.
The worst case scenario is that the cats team up with the mice to take out the dogs, leaving humanity totally defenseless.
So, just in case, let me say that I welcome our new furry overlords. Cheese anyone?
Cheers,
-Jason
Anyone who has ever read a science fiction or horror novel can see what is coming next: one of the little buggers will escape.
A scientist, flushed with success, will forget one tiny detail. The cage holding the mouse was not rated for super-vermin. A mouse will escape and create a mouse kingdom, which will be populated by his genetically gifted offspring. Some of the new mice will espouse the ways of Mickey, but others will follow Ignatz, the Thrower of Bricks. There will be a civil war and the Ignatzians will triumph and begin their grand scheme to throw a brick at the world.
They will start small, possibly by eliminating the cats, but once the felines are out of the picture, we all know who will be next. Us. We cannot even keep regular mice out of our houses, what chance do we have against super mice with machine guns? They will have television. They will know what has been done to their species and they will be ticked off.
Our only hope is to create a species of genetically enhanced cats with opposable thumbs, which they will need to be able to operate their little chainsaws. This, of course, brings up a whole new set of problems. Namely, not changing the litter in a timely fashion could have some serious consequences.
The worst case scenario is that the cats team up with the mice to take out the dogs, leaving humanity totally defenseless.
So, just in case, let me say that I welcome our new furry overlords. Cheese anyone?
Cheers,
-Jason
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
EULA: Part 2
1. Eligibility
All rights and the title in and to the Program and the Server (including names, likenesses, catch phrases, music, thimbles, and small collectable figurines) are ours. You may not have them or use them in any way that we find upsetting. Of course, nobody actually reads this so we can really put in anything we want. BOOGERS. See?
2. Ownership
You many establish one (1, uno, un, ichi, ein, etc) User Account per install. Not that we would know if you did, but still we have to say this. Its not like were going to come to your house and beat you up if we find out. No, we tried that. It got really expensive. Instead Ill just call you up and say some vaguely threatening things. Maybe we can be friends? God, Im so lonely.
3. Miscellaneous
Ummm, if youve thought of doing something we havent explicitly told you not to, this is a blanket statement to cover that and anything else you might think of. I wanted to be a folk singer. There, I said it. I didnt want to be a lawyer. I wanted to make people happy with whimsical songs about dogs named Beauregard. But no, Mother said I had to be a lawyer. She said folk singers never made any money. She wouldnt listen when I tried to explain about Arlo Guthrie.
4. Pickles
You didnt read any of this, did you? The least you could do is read it. I mean, I worked very hard on this, you could at least give it a cursory glance before you start killing stuff with a +12 Sword of Permanently Single or whatever it is this program does. Its probably zombies. Everythings zombies these days. Why cant they make nice games? Like Chutes and Ladders or Candy Land? But no, you just want to blow stuff up. Well, fine. Click Accept. Dont worry about me. Ill just be here. All alone. Writing legal stuff. Maybe another EULA. Joy.
Cheers,
-Jason
All rights and the title in and to the Program and the Server (including names, likenesses, catch phrases, music, thimbles, and small collectable figurines) are ours. You may not have them or use them in any way that we find upsetting. Of course, nobody actually reads this so we can really put in anything we want. BOOGERS. See?
2. Ownership
You many establish one (1, uno, un, ichi, ein, etc) User Account per install. Not that we would know if you did, but still we have to say this. Its not like were going to come to your house and beat you up if we find out. No, we tried that. It got really expensive. Instead Ill just call you up and say some vaguely threatening things. Maybe we can be friends? God, Im so lonely.
3. Miscellaneous
Ummm, if youve thought of doing something we havent explicitly told you not to, this is a blanket statement to cover that and anything else you might think of. I wanted to be a folk singer. There, I said it. I didnt want to be a lawyer. I wanted to make people happy with whimsical songs about dogs named Beauregard. But no, Mother said I had to be a lawyer. She said folk singers never made any money. She wouldnt listen when I tried to explain about Arlo Guthrie.
4. Pickles
You didnt read any of this, did you? The least you could do is read it. I mean, I worked very hard on this, you could at least give it a cursory glance before you start killing stuff with a +12 Sword of Permanently Single or whatever it is this program does. Its probably zombies. Everythings zombies these days. Why cant they make nice games? Like Chutes and Ladders or Candy Land? But no, you just want to blow stuff up. Well, fine. Click Accept. Dont worry about me. Ill just be here. All alone. Writing legal stuff. Maybe another EULA. Joy.
Cheers,
-Jason
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
EULA: Part 1
No, this is not the name of my matronly great aunt. EULA stands for End-User-License-Agreement. It is the thing that pops up when you install software that you have to click AGREE on to complete the install.
In a nutshell, the EULA basically says you will not do anything bad with the software and that you accept that if you do anything stupid with it, it is your fault.
At least, that is what I hope they say. I have yet to meet someone who has actually read a EULA. Frankly, it would no surprise me to learn that companies have been messing with us all these years and putting pretty much anything they can think of in there, safe in the knowledge that we will happily click on the button so we can shoot zombies in the head.
What might be in a EULA, you may ask? Well, tune in tomorrow to find out.
In a nutshell, the EULA basically says you will not do anything bad with the software and that you accept that if you do anything stupid with it, it is your fault.
At least, that is what I hope they say. I have yet to meet someone who has actually read a EULA. Frankly, it would no surprise me to learn that companies have been messing with us all these years and putting pretty much anything they can think of in there, safe in the knowledge that we will happily click on the button so we can shoot zombies in the head.
What might be in a EULA, you may ask? Well, tune in tomorrow to find out.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Moving Forward
Some of you may have noticed that our site has not been redesigned, despite what I said last week. We really, really, really hope the new layout will go live this week, but we will see.
We will start updating again this Tuesday, so stay tuned.
Blogs will continue as usual. Hint: EULAs.
Cheers,
-Jason
We will start updating again this Tuesday, so stay tuned.
Blogs will continue as usual. Hint: EULAs.
Cheers,
-Jason
Friday, November 9, 2007
Spaced
I have recently encountered a British comedy show called Spaced. It was both written by and starred in by Simon Pegg (of Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz) and Jessica Hynes.
It is really, really funny and generally brilliant. If you like off-beat, quirky humor with great characters, you'll love this show.
They only made 14-episodes before going off to do other things, but they are well worth hunting down.
The official web-site is here: http://www.spaced-out.org.uk/
Cheers,
-Jason
It is really, really funny and generally brilliant. If you like off-beat, quirky humor with great characters, you'll love this show.
They only made 14-episodes before going off to do other things, but they are well worth hunting down.
The official web-site is here: http://www.spaced-out.org.uk/
Cheers,
-Jason
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Han Would Never Wear That
I have a confession to make
There was a time in my life when I had a mullet.
It is sadly true, but in my defense, I did not know that was what it was.
You see, for a long time, I had really long hair. I got tired of it and went to a hair place in the mall. I had no real idea what I wanted, save that I wanted less hair. So when the hairstylist asked me how I wanted it cut, I said I dunno, what do you think would look good?
She cut my hair and then told me it looked fantastic. I was happy. You see, I have absolutely zero fashion sense. If you ever see me wearing something even remotely nice looking, it is because my mother bought it for me.
In hindsight, the hairdresser may have been a sadist, but I digress.
I had the mullet for a number of years. After all, I had been assured that it was fantastic, and I still did not know what it was called. One day, I got tired of it and chopped it all off. Afterwards, one of my female friends leaned over and said (and I quote):
I am sooooo glad you got rid of that mullet. It looked terrible.
So, the question is: why did you not tell me before?
This was a person I had known for years and considered a friend. If I was on fire, I am reasonably certain she would put me out. If I had a lamprey on my buttocks, I would expect a call to 911 (or Jacques Cousteau). Yet in the face of a mullet, she said nothing.
This was not just her, though. I had at least two other female friends. They too could have warned me.
I realize that the mullet damage has been done. I will never recover from the shame. However, on behalf of nerds everywhere, I hereby ask this:
Please tell us when we look terrible.
Seriously. Let us know that wearing sweats all the time is bad. Let us know that fanny packs are not cool. Please, tell us to get a haircut.
We are nerds. Our brains are filled with Star Wars trivia and lines from Monty Python. We have precious little space left for mundane things like fashion or eating right or basic social etiquette.
So, if possible, just lean over and say: You know, Han would never wear that.
We will understand.
Cheers,
-Jason
There was a time in my life when I had a mullet.
It is sadly true, but in my defense, I did not know that was what it was.
You see, for a long time, I had really long hair. I got tired of it and went to a hair place in the mall. I had no real idea what I wanted, save that I wanted less hair. So when the hairstylist asked me how I wanted it cut, I said I dunno, what do you think would look good?
She cut my hair and then told me it looked fantastic. I was happy. You see, I have absolutely zero fashion sense. If you ever see me wearing something even remotely nice looking, it is because my mother bought it for me.
In hindsight, the hairdresser may have been a sadist, but I digress.
I had the mullet for a number of years. After all, I had been assured that it was fantastic, and I still did not know what it was called. One day, I got tired of it and chopped it all off. Afterwards, one of my female friends leaned over and said (and I quote):
I am sooooo glad you got rid of that mullet. It looked terrible.
So, the question is: why did you not tell me before?
This was a person I had known for years and considered a friend. If I was on fire, I am reasonably certain she would put me out. If I had a lamprey on my buttocks, I would expect a call to 911 (or Jacques Cousteau). Yet in the face of a mullet, she said nothing.
This was not just her, though. I had at least two other female friends. They too could have warned me.
I realize that the mullet damage has been done. I will never recover from the shame. However, on behalf of nerds everywhere, I hereby ask this:
Please tell us when we look terrible.
Seriously. Let us know that wearing sweats all the time is bad. Let us know that fanny packs are not cool. Please, tell us to get a haircut.
We are nerds. Our brains are filled with Star Wars trivia and lines from Monty Python. We have precious little space left for mundane things like fashion or eating right or basic social etiquette.
So, if possible, just lean over and say: You know, Han would never wear that.
We will understand.
Cheers,
-Jason
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
XP is XP
I have learned many things from playing WoW. I have learned that having two skinners in the same instance group is bad. I have learned that a Rogue with enough Flash Powder can survive most any wipe. I have also learned that the Armorsmith sub-profession is really not worth it.
However, the greatest lesson I have learned is about tolerance and understanding.
Take Zangermarsh. There is a whole clan of Ogres that lives next door to a community of Naga. You would think that they would fight incessantly, but no, they live together in peace and harmony.
The Ogres farm their giant mushrooms. The Naga do whatever it is they do. And they manage to do it without fighting, without as much as a harsh word across the mud. They even have a mutual defense treaty, as the Ogres will come to the aid of the Naga and vice-versa.
Truly, an example for us all, for if Naga and Ogre-kind can get along, why cant we?
But then again, it has not stopped me from killing them by the score and taking their stuff. XP is XP, after all.
Cheers,
-Jason
However, the greatest lesson I have learned is about tolerance and understanding.
Take Zangermarsh. There is a whole clan of Ogres that lives next door to a community of Naga. You would think that they would fight incessantly, but no, they live together in peace and harmony.
The Ogres farm their giant mushrooms. The Naga do whatever it is they do. And they manage to do it without fighting, without as much as a harsh word across the mud. They even have a mutual defense treaty, as the Ogres will come to the aid of the Naga and vice-versa.
Truly, an example for us all, for if Naga and Ogre-kind can get along, why cant we?
But then again, it has not stopped me from killing them by the score and taking their stuff. XP is XP, after all.
Cheers,
-Jason
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
I Like the Spikes
Arklebar, Dark Lord of Berenir, King of Uburia, and Conqueror of Kordrun drummed his fingers on the armrest. Before him lay the royal armory, where his smiths were putting the final touches on his new armor.
I grow impatient.
Instantly, a smith was at his side. It is almost ready, Lord.
I had better be, else you will be smithing left-handed.
The smith stared up at Arklebar. My Lord?
You will smith left-handed. Arklebar made a hammering motion. Smithing. With your left hand. Because Ill cut off your right.
But I am left-handed, Lord.
Arklebar stared at the trembling smith. Youre not terribly bright, are you?
No, Lord.
It is ready, Dread Master! cried out another smith from across the room.
Rising, Arklebar strode across the smithy as tools and apprentices were hastily pulled from his path and beheld his new armor.
Arklebar frowned. Well, he said, put it on me. NOW!
Hands undid his cloak and lifted the crown from his head. Even more hands helped him into the greaves and sabatons. The rest of the leg armor was quickly added, as the vambraces were strapped to his forearms. The breast and back plates were affixed and then the huge shoulder pieces. Lastly, his helmet was lowered onto his head and a large mirror was wheeled before him.
Arklebar looked at himself. The armor was massive and black, with three foot spikes coming off the shoulders. The breastplate featured a huge, snarling dragon maw and great horns, fully six inches thick at the base and two-feet long, adorned his helmet.
The Dark Lord turned, first one way and then another. He struck a pose, swaying slightly under the weight of all the metal. Does this armor, he asked, his voice echoing deep within the helm, make me look fat?
No, Lord!
Absolutely not, Lord!
You look magnificent, Dread Master!
Good. Arklebar turned slowly. I am pleased. You all may live.
There was a chorus of thank yous.
Yes, yes, I am wonderful. The Dark Lord turned and stomped towards the door, enjoying the great clash of metal that sounded as he walked. The door was thrown open before him and he marched through, only to be knocked flat on his back as he entered the doorway.
There was absolute silence.
What happened? Arklebar asked.
A smith appeared above him. The spikes, Lord. They . . . ummmm . . . wont fit through the doorway.
I like the spikes.
Yes, Lord.
Very well. Have all the doorways in the castle widened immediately. No, all the doorways in the kingdom. Any building that has a doorway I cannot fit through will be burned to the ground with the owners still inside. And if I hear about this incident, I will have everyone here put to death.
Of course, Lord.
And help me up.
Yes, Lord.
Cheers,
-Jason
I grow impatient.
Instantly, a smith was at his side. It is almost ready, Lord.
I had better be, else you will be smithing left-handed.
The smith stared up at Arklebar. My Lord?
You will smith left-handed. Arklebar made a hammering motion. Smithing. With your left hand. Because Ill cut off your right.
But I am left-handed, Lord.
Arklebar stared at the trembling smith. Youre not terribly bright, are you?
No, Lord.
It is ready, Dread Master! cried out another smith from across the room.
Rising, Arklebar strode across the smithy as tools and apprentices were hastily pulled from his path and beheld his new armor.
Arklebar frowned. Well, he said, put it on me. NOW!
Hands undid his cloak and lifted the crown from his head. Even more hands helped him into the greaves and sabatons. The rest of the leg armor was quickly added, as the vambraces were strapped to his forearms. The breast and back plates were affixed and then the huge shoulder pieces. Lastly, his helmet was lowered onto his head and a large mirror was wheeled before him.
Arklebar looked at himself. The armor was massive and black, with three foot spikes coming off the shoulders. The breastplate featured a huge, snarling dragon maw and great horns, fully six inches thick at the base and two-feet long, adorned his helmet.
The Dark Lord turned, first one way and then another. He struck a pose, swaying slightly under the weight of all the metal. Does this armor, he asked, his voice echoing deep within the helm, make me look fat?
No, Lord!
Absolutely not, Lord!
You look magnificent, Dread Master!
Good. Arklebar turned slowly. I am pleased. You all may live.
There was a chorus of thank yous.
Yes, yes, I am wonderful. The Dark Lord turned and stomped towards the door, enjoying the great clash of metal that sounded as he walked. The door was thrown open before him and he marched through, only to be knocked flat on his back as he entered the doorway.
There was absolute silence.
What happened? Arklebar asked.
A smith appeared above him. The spikes, Lord. They . . . ummmm . . . wont fit through the doorway.
I like the spikes.
Yes, Lord.
Very well. Have all the doorways in the castle widened immediately. No, all the doorways in the kingdom. Any building that has a doorway I cannot fit through will be burned to the ground with the owners still inside. And if I hear about this incident, I will have everyone here put to death.
Of course, Lord.
And help me up.
Yes, Lord.
Cheers,
-Jason
Monday, November 5, 2007
Two Announcements
Hey All,
Two medium-sized announcements for the coming week:
First: We have been in the process of revamping the site and it will be going live this week.
Second: Leigh was sick for several days last week, so we will not be updating the comic this week. The story will continue on Tuesday, the 13th.
So, expect to see a new site layout this week and a new comic a week from tomorrow.
I will be blogging as usual during the week, so please come by and check out the blog. Hint: Evil Overlords and fashion.
Cheers,
-Jason
Two medium-sized announcements for the coming week:
First: We have been in the process of revamping the site and it will be going live this week.
Second: Leigh was sick for several days last week, so we will not be updating the comic this week. The story will continue on Tuesday, the 13th.
So, expect to see a new site layout this week and a new comic a week from tomorrow.
I will be blogging as usual during the week, so please come by and check out the blog. Hint: Evil Overlords and fashion.
Cheers,
-Jason
Friday, November 2, 2007
Caption Contest Winner
So, after a savage brawl with much blood, spilled coffee and tearing of black t-shirts, Leigh and I have hashed out the winner.
Actually, we just IM'd each other (but we typed violently).
There were a lot of great entries, but after much debate, we narrowed it down to the three we liked best.
So without any more ado, here were the top three:
Third Place: Frumple
Iri: "Maybe you should just say 'Treat' at the next door."
Second Place: zog
Iri(whispered) "Can we walk a little slower, my longbow is chafing ..."
Lily "Your longbow ...? Where ..."
Iri(growled) "Do NOT ...ask."
And First Place: Rachel
"There's GOT to be a better way of getting chocolate."
So congratulations to Rachel, for winning our first (mayhap annual) Halloween Caption Contest.
Please shoot us an email (or post your answer in the forum caption thread) letting us know what size desktop you prefer.
Congrats again,
-Jason and Leigh
Actually, we just IM'd each other (but we typed violently).
There were a lot of great entries, but after much debate, we narrowed it down to the three we liked best.
So without any more ado, here were the top three:
Third Place: Frumple
Iri: "Maybe you should just say 'Treat' at the next door."
Second Place: zog
Iri(whispered) "Can we walk a little slower, my longbow is chafing ..."
Lily "Your longbow ...? Where ..."
Iri(growled) "Do NOT ...ask."
And First Place: Rachel
"There's GOT to be a better way of getting chocolate."
So congratulations to Rachel, for winning our first (mayhap annual) Halloween Caption Contest.
Please shoot us an email (or post your answer in the forum caption thread) letting us know what size desktop you prefer.
Congrats again,
-Jason and Leigh
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Hello, Mr. Mammoth
I am glad I was born in this day and age. There are many reasons for this (video games and polio vaccinations, for starters), but the main reason is that I would not have survived in any other era. Why would I think this? Well, let me tell you a story.
Today, I was doing laundry. I happen to have three boxes of detergent sitting on the drier, ready to dispense their cleansing goodness. I do not recall why I purchased three boxes, but there was probably a sale.
I filled the washer with a selection of black t-shirts and picked up the nearest box of detergent. It was empty. This did not perturb me, as I had two more boxes at the ready. I picked up the second box of detergent. It was also empty. I picked up the third box. It too, was empty.
Not only had I not thrown away empty detergent boxes, I had also managed to place them in such a fashion as to make it look like they had not been opened.
I am apparently quite dim.
Honestly, I had no idea the boxes were empty. I knew that the nearest box was running out, but I obviously had two more full boxes, so I had not bothered to buy more.
How does this relate to living in another era? Simple. I would have been the one caveman who forgot to bring his spear.
We would have been clustered on a hill, ready to attack a wooly mammoth. The leader would have looked around, making sure we were ready to risk our lives to feed our clan. And he would have seen me, playing with a rock.
Leader: Where spear?
Me: What?
Leader: Where spear?
Me: My spear? Oh, funny story. I thought I had a couple, but I must have forgotten to make more. Why, do I need one?
Leader: {long pause}No. Go pet big mammoth. Him friend.
Me: Really? Why hello, Mr. Mammoth! It is certainly a lovely- AAARRRGH! MY DUODENUM!
Leader: Idiot.
Basically, my ancestors fought and scraped to survive so that one day I could be completely incapable of doing my laundry.
It kinda makes you think, doesnt it?
Cheers,
-Jason
Today, I was doing laundry. I happen to have three boxes of detergent sitting on the drier, ready to dispense their cleansing goodness. I do not recall why I purchased three boxes, but there was probably a sale.
I filled the washer with a selection of black t-shirts and picked up the nearest box of detergent. It was empty. This did not perturb me, as I had two more boxes at the ready. I picked up the second box of detergent. It was also empty. I picked up the third box. It too, was empty.
Not only had I not thrown away empty detergent boxes, I had also managed to place them in such a fashion as to make it look like they had not been opened.
I am apparently quite dim.
Honestly, I had no idea the boxes were empty. I knew that the nearest box was running out, but I obviously had two more full boxes, so I had not bothered to buy more.
How does this relate to living in another era? Simple. I would have been the one caveman who forgot to bring his spear.
We would have been clustered on a hill, ready to attack a wooly mammoth. The leader would have looked around, making sure we were ready to risk our lives to feed our clan. And he would have seen me, playing with a rock.
Leader: Where spear?
Me: What?
Leader: Where spear?
Me: My spear? Oh, funny story. I thought I had a couple, but I must have forgotten to make more. Why, do I need one?
Leader: {long pause}
Me: Really? Why hello, Mr. Mammoth! It is certainly a lovely- AAARRRGH! MY DUODENUM!
Leader: Idiot.
Basically, my ancestors fought and scraped to survive so that one day I could be completely incapable of doing my laundry.
It kinda makes you think, doesnt it?
Cheers,
-Jason
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