For all you HALO folks out there, and even those of you who just appreciate a finely crafted bit of humor mixed with some impressive hand/eye coordination, check out the Warthog Physics Experiment:

Warthog Jump: A Halo Physics Experiment

Reality
-Zane T. Dark 4/18/2002

I listen to what you
Want me to hear
Transparent globes of
Sentences, nested one
Inside the next
Each turning on
It’s own axis of reality
I patiently wait
For them to line up
Straining my eyes
To make out the
Continents of truth
But I grow weary
Unable to blink
Fixed on your words
I miss your eyes

So. You ever see something on TV and tell yourself 'Hey, that's a good idea!'..but then other companies begin to do it and pretty soon you start thinking that perhaps if that many companies are doing it that, to be blunt, it probably sucks?

There is a reason for the way our bodies react to the environment around us. It's hot, we sweat. It's cold, our teeth chatter, we stomp our feet, put our hands in our armpits..you get the idea. Well the same is true with gag reflexes and nose wrinkling when it comes to smells. It's our body's way of telling us:

"I don't like it and it's bad"

Our bodies don't have to give excuses, submit action items, fashion feasibility reports, or submit financial approvals to committee. Your body's reaction is "Fuck that, I'm puking!". Well, maybe not THAT reaction, but it does what it does because it has to.

Now, having said that, will corporate America quit with the Martha-friggin-Stewart-don't-offend-my-senses cleaning products already for flying monkies sake! I mean, it only goes to reason that what stank before stank for a reason...it had toxic stuff in it...probably vaporous and easily absorbed through breathing enough of it. So does it make ANY SENSE WHATSOEVER to make it smell good so we take an even BIGGER wiff and exclaim 'Gee, your oven smells terrific!' when the same toxic fumes that were a product of the cleaner doing it's job are, reasonably speaking, still in the damn stuff and now introduced into a deeper area of our lungs that it would never have seen otherwise because of it's now 'baby-fresh scent'?! I mean, this is like disguising nuclear waste by making it look like Grape Nuts™ and then patting yourself on the back and sprinkling it over the landscape like lawn fertilizer.

Don't get me wrong, I like the 'herbal scented' Windex™ that doesn't give me that acid taste in the back of my throat when I use it, or the lemon-scented oven cleaner. It just seems to me that we are, in our own 'in too damn much of a hurry' Amercian way, covering up the symptoms and not fashioning a new solution. Like an oven cleaner that WON'T strip the paint of a battleship or the skin off your child. And I don't believe that we *can't* do this...I mean we have a hair growing pill and a boner pill (but still no cure for AIDS, go figure), I'm sure we can clean our kitchens/bathrooms/lives without chemicals that will eat the lining out of an iron smelting crucible or poison the planet to the point where the cockroaches develop thumbs and start telling US what to do.

Those of you who identify with the poem below, rejoice! There is hope! Download Mozilla from www.mozilla.org and check it out, particularly the feature shown below:

..just take the checkmark out and viola! no more popups..I'm weeping with joy even now!

I'm reposting this here because, well it's mine and I want to...so there.

How Many Windows
By Zane T. Dark (3/22/2002)

Research on the net,
Wanna make a bet,
That every single site I hit assumes me in their debt.

Window after window,
Popping here and there,
Whittling my patience, graying all my hair.

Make your penis longer,
Make your breasts real large,
Clear up your complexion for a minor credit charge.

New, improved, and xtra,
Natural and safe,
Better than the one before that made your knuckles chafe.

Become a multi-billioniare,
Sell Real Estate and Books,
We got rich the same way, it’s as easy as it looks.

How many windows must I close,
And through the refuse wade,
To find a decent recipe that gets these brownies made?

Here's sure win at scrabble...or perhaps 3-D virtual Scrabble:

methionylglutaminylarginyltyrosylglutamylserylleucylphenylalany
lalanylglutaminylleucyllysylglutamylarginyllysyglutamylglycylal
anylphenylalanylvalylproylphenylalanylalythreonylleucylglycylas
partylprolylglycylisoleucylglutamylglutaminylserylleucyllysylis
oleucylaspartylthreonylleucylisoleucylglutamylalanylglycylalany
laspartylalanylleucylglutamylleucylglycylisoleucylprolylphenyla
lanylserylaspartylprolylleucylalanylaspartylglycylprolylthreony
lisoleucylglutaminylasparaginylalanylthreonylleucylarginylalany
lphenylalanylalanylalanyglycyvalylthreonylprolylalanylglutiminy
lcysteinylphenylalanylglutamylmethionylleucylalanylleucylisoleu
cylarginylglutaminyllysyhistidylprolylthreonylisoleucylprolylis
oleucylglycylleucylleucylmethionyltyrosylalanylasparaginylleucy
lvalylphenylalanylasparaginyllysylglycylisoleucylaspartylglutam
ylphenylalanyltyrosylalanylglutaninylcysteinylglutamyllysylvaly
lglycylvalylaspartylserylvalylleucylvalylalanylaspartylvalylpro
lylvalylglutaminylglutamylserylalanylprolyphenylalanylarginylgl
utaminylalanylalanylleucylarginylhistidylasparaginylvalylalanyl
prolylisoleucylphenylalanylisoleucylcysteinylprolylprolylaspart
ylalanylaspartylaspartylaspartylleucylleucylarginylglutaminylis
oleucylalanylseryltrosylglycylarginylglycyltyrosylthreonyltyros
ylleucylleucylserylarginylalalanylglycylvalylthreonylglycylalan
ylglutamylasparaginylarginylalanylalanylleucylprolylleucylaspar
aginylhistidylleucylvalylalanyllysylleucyllysylglutamyltyrosyla
sparginylalanylalanylprolylprolylleucylglutaminylglycylphenylal
anylglycylisoleucylserylalanylprolylaspartylglutaminylvalyllysy
lalanylalanylisoleucylaspartylalanylglycylalanylalanylglycylala
nylisoleucylserylglycylserylalanylisoleucylvalyllysylisoleucyli
soleucylglutamylglutaminylhistidylasparaginylisoleucylglutamylp
rolylglutamyllysylmethionylleucylalanylalanylleucyllysylvalylph
enylalanylvalylglutaminylprolylmethionyllysylalanylalanylthreon
ylarginylserine

It's the chemical name for C₁₂₈₉H₂₀₅₁N₃₇₅S₈.

And it's probably in those new colored M&M's  all the voting is about.

The battle of the house continues:

  I've been staying with my father for a few months, and I brought my cats with me. Now before I describe the situation with his dog and now this drama is playing out, let me introduce my boys:

Mister Bubble:

• Holds a grudge longer than any other domesticated animal short of an elephant
  
• Claims the highest spot in the room...well the highest spot that doesn't require any effort; like my head
  
• Jedi Master Level pouter...can make you feel guilty for washing out the water bowl and depriving him of agua for even a few minutes
  
• Named for his concessive/compulsive traits, using the bath bubbles as an example, he knows there's water under there, he knows he doesn't like water, but he's drawn to the bubbles like Homer Simpson to individually-wrapped cheese singles..."Aaarrrh...cheeeeese!"

La Fou:

• Very possibly the stupidest cat on the face of the planet (were he a cartoon cat, you could play his head like an empty soda bottle by blowing across one ear)
  
• Very possibly the sweetest animal in existence (has NO concept of betrayal, punishment, or rejection...'Ooo,  you're petting me! That's really gooooodddd!')
  
• Purrs constantly...no really! He purrs constantly...you can rub is fur backward until the static electricity makes his nostrils arc electricity. Still purring.
  
• He drools like a dog; come to think of it, his dog qualities out-number is cat qualities 10 to 1
  
• Enjoys having his butt spanked...don't ask how this was found out, just take my word for it. He LOVES it.
  
• Named after Gaston's dim-witted sidekick/accomplice in Beauty and The Beast

..there's more, but this isn't really about them so much as the dynamic of these two when a small dog is thrown into the mix. And may I add, a spoiled-rotten, attention hound of a bitch if there ever was one. So cute it should be illegal, so hyper she could be an alternative energy source, and so baffled by the presence of two cats that couldn't bewilder her more if you shaved her down and replaced her tail with a feather duster. Her name, a black and white poodle/lhasa apso mix, is Cookie.

Cookie has these chew toys, hide bones really, that she'll chew on for hours....much to the entertainment of the boys. They watch her do this the way a vegetarian would watch someone eat monkey brains...revolted, but fascinated at the same time; unable to relate in any way, but also unable to look away. Now Cookie thinks they are, in some way, lusting after her prized possessions, these slimy, disgusting hide strips. The latest battle is for the boys to try to make it through the living room, littered with half-chewed bones (we put them up, but she'll get each one of them out and soon you have an obstacle course) without her seeing them. But every once in a while, they can't help it, they'll stop and sniff at one of the bones. Cookie, if she sees them, will jump down to defend her prize and charge one of them; causing one of two reactions:

1. Oh shit! At which point much scattering of tails and fur ensues in a veritable Copperfieldian display of vanishing ability..now you see 'em, now you don't.
   
2. Ease-Up, Shortie! Followed by a growl, a right/left/right swat combination that would make any prize fighter envious, or a combination of both.

Now, just when you thought the rules were in place, and the lines were drawn; someone shakes the Yahtzee cup and everything changes. Now the competition is...yours truly. I'm sitting on the couch, minding my own business, and after a while, as usual, I have two cats lounging on me in various positions. This is ok until I begin to actively *pet* one of them and Cookie sees it. She literally cannot STAND this! She will crawl into this nest of claws on my chest, and attempt to settle right in front of my face to make sure SHE is closer to me than the other two.

Now normally, if I just stay still, all is fine. But Fou can't stand it because the dog's tail is wagging...did I mention that Fou never did outgrow kitten-dom? This is a disaster waiting to happen, and all on MY chest.

• If the dog freaks, then the mass exodus will surely remove the first layer of skin off of my upper body in a Wile E. Coyote dropped into an Acme Sheep Shearing Machine sort of way.
  
• If the cat misses and hits me, I'll flinch and the same fission reaction and ritual blood-letting.
  
• If Fou *doesn't* miss, the dog freaks, but the cat's claw is now in her tail so the cat/dog combo forms a biological hurricane so close to my face I can HEAR the hair coming out, also not good

So now, how long I'm able to watch tv revolves around how many animals are in my general vicinity..how much of a book I can finish is directly related to the jealousy of a dog. sigh, time to move.

I know, but I have a good excuse. But rather than bore everyone with that, consider this:

At what point does helping become a crutch? Where do you draw the line? As an example, how about this situation; some of what I do is network consulting, and specializing now in wireless consulting of the same. A customer is having problems with his wireless network, but HE'S the network administrator. The only reason he's in touch with me is for help with a product my company sells. But, and here's the kicker, in order to *convince* him that the problem does not lie in our hardware, I basically have to do his troubleshooting job for him. Now, me personally, this stuff is great fun. I don't mind it at all...like a puppy with chew toy. But from the company's perspective, this is money spent doing the customer's job for them...in many different circles this is something they would have to pay for, and it ain't cheap.

Or, perhaps something a bit more personal. A friend needs help in several different ways. Let's say it's a life crisis that has taken their job from them and split up the family. Now the emotional help is one thing...friends do that for one another (you always gotta have someone to bitch to...them's the rules), but when that gets to writing resume's, helping pay the bills because they no longer have a checking account and they give you the money to pay them, getting them a car and helping them keep it running because they know NOTHING about vehicles...you get the idea. It can become a way of life after a while, and in some cases, you don't even notice it happening until you look up one day and *your* bills are late, *your* car needs work, and *your* resume is moldy.

In other words, when does help become crutch become patsy? I kind of answered my own question in the last of that previous paragraph, but does it have to go that far before it can be described as 'too far' or 'too much'?

Yesireee, only into his fourth day, and Zane's amazing procrastination skills come to the surface. No entry for yesterday; so this will also be an attempt to inflict some discipline on myself as well...without the rashes or abrasions one normally associates with such things, of course.

I realize that genital piercing is, at some level, an attempt at self-expression or even a stab at individuality of a kind. Now myself personally...I don't see metal threaded through the tender fleshy parts of one's body as being anything but some kind of answer to a twisted, alcohol-induced dare. But that's just me.

Zane's tips on being original:

1. Superglue a turkey feather to your forehead.


2. Seal your last two fingers together with silicone caulking.


3. Fashion a bicycle from used prosthetics and dental work.


4. Pick a random day to answer every question asked of you with a blast from a portable airhorn..and nothing more.


5. Glue several Hot Wheels ® cars to the bottom of a skateboard and demand to be serviced at the drive thru.


6. Accessorize your wardrobe with Tupperware® every Wednsday.


7. Hang a personallized license plate from the ear of your choice.


8. Just before leaving work, warn your boss that you may have to stay home because you're feeling ill...then show up anyhow and bring donuts.


9. Compose your weblog while nekkid.


10. Open your front window and dance to 'Walking on Sunshine' while banging on a pot with a wooden spoon.

Pretty soon, everyone you know will not be able to think of a SINGLE person that is like you...and you won't have to get anything pierced.

Why are they called Tugboats when I have not, as of yet, EVER seen them pulling anything but a wake of gulls? They always seem to be pushing, even barges. Don’t get me wrong, I’m quite sure they CAN tug and more than likely do when I’m not around. But it’s a bit like saying you’re ‘surfing the net’ when in actuality, you’d be ‘tangled in the net’…

I only bring this up because it was the last thing going through my mind as we were leaving the bay. We were going deep sea fishing and I was…*there*. It was early. And I mean ‘Oh-dark-thirty’ kind of early…the sky was just getting some morning color to it and all was right with the world for now. Then as soon as we hit the Gulf of Mexico, I was at Astroworld. I’m not a motion-sick person..butchaknow, when your hands start tingling and you already took 3 Dramamine when you got up and 3 when you went to bed…you are SO in trouble. I lucked out though, the sea was too rough to fish and the rest of the charter decided to go back and we ended up getting our money back. How lucky is that?

Eric wants to go fishing in the bay in his boat, and it’s getting to be that time of year. I dunno, I may have to stick with my dad this year and just concentrate on terrorizing the fish in the lakes around here until I can talk to my doctor and he can convince me that this new prescription is going to work. I told him I’d either bring him back a fish, or a bag-o-seasick, so he’d better be right…urp doesn’t garnish well, even with baby truffles and a spritz of lemon…at least not as well as amberjack.