D’oh! Winston Link
In a recent issue of the new, “Look! Lots of color!” Roanoke Times, they decided to show off their color presses by taking some old black-and-white pictures of the area and comparing them to recently-taken pictures of the same area from the same angle.
The problem is that they decided to use black-and-white photographs from acclaimed railroad photographer O. Winston Link as contrast, and even printed small, his pictures are much more visually interesting than the color work they’re compared to.
(Yeah, I have things to say about Matrix: Revolutions, the Eddie Izzard concert, and Rising Star, but I still haven’t gathered my thoughts on any of that yet.)
Celebrate National Cosplay Day
In honor of the holiday, I’ve updated my past Halloweens page with another old pic I recently found. Given the excellent probability of digital cameras at VTSFFC Halloween this year, I expect to be able to add my 2003 costume to the page Sunday or Monday.
Office conversation
“Microscopic bugs in your hair, mites on your skin – do you have any idea what’s in your blood?”
“Ummm… a tiny submarine carrying Raquel Welch?”
“Or worse, Chris Rock and David Hyde Pierce…”
I’ve avoided these for so long…
… but this one just gives such great answers.
I will conquer: The Moon. Beat that. (Where I will build The Alan Parsons Project.)
My title will be: Bill Gates. (I think I might enjoy the position more than the current holder.)
I will succeed by: Brute military force (Robot Hunter Killers.) (“using wave after wave of my own men…”)
My Enforcers will be: LV-426 Aliens. (I’m fine as long as no one sends Predators or Sigourney Weaver after me.)
My first act as ruler: Make smoking a capital crime. (… I’m just leaving that one where it is.)
I’m not that compatible with anyone :(
“How sexually compatible are you with your LJ friends?”
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Ooo, hit me again Agent Smith
You know, if I were one of Morpheus’ freedom fighters for Zion, I’d spend a *lot* of time researching electronic ways to block the ‘pain’ and ‘damage’ signals the Matrix wanted to send to my meat body.
Imagine if you hacked the connection ever so slightly to redirect the pain signals so they’d send a tiny jolt to the pleasure center of your brain instead. Agents could shoot you all day and it would just make you giggly. Your Matrix body might end up looking like The Crow, but that might be turned to your advantage; and you can always get another the next time you jack in.
