Wise Man Says

When at movie theater and offered large drink for twenty-five cents more than medium, take it.


Do not, however, attempt to drink the entirety of said drink before the end of the trailers.

Magic in All of Us, The

It is a little known fact that, while nearly all of the magical items have left this world for good, off to the favored realms of the east and under, there are still many a mystical and/or magical spring of adventurous spirit, that now reside in unlikely sources.

One of them, is Facebook.

Spawned and lived by the great River MySpace, the land of Facebook spans deep and wide into the realm of the Internet. Its series of trade and commerce is unlike any others, as it thrives off of new technology and applications, the factories of which cover nearly half of the land itself. These factories are maintained by the Developers, who are mysterious blue creatures, revealing themselves only at night for small get-togethers and drunken parties.
Off of the land of Applications lies the peninsula of Profile, a mysterious land where it is said that even the water looks different for every living being. None have yet tested this fact, yet it lingers in local legend all the same. The land of Profile recently released itself from the oppressive tyrrany of Community, whose iron rule of unknown origin still reigns indefinitely across the remainder of Facebook. Still, there are even more mysterious and unknown lands still to explore in Facebook...

It is there, my friends, that even the most mundane of profiles may have magical gifts, and each is granted a small amount of power, with which one may benefit humanity, or doom it to an ugly fate. For within its walls lies a closely-knit community of groups, and events, where those with the power of invitation bring together or divide members of society, playing key roles in the constant change of the landscape. I have such power.

Yes, I must admit publicly now my ability for raising Groups; the magical aura of membership that radiates from my bones. Through sheer force of will I can raise and lower the virtual cities of groups and classification, bending them to my will and whimsy. It is not just I, my friends, Facebook is willing to give its powers to others, as well, and if you listen close enough, it could be you.

+2 Posting Skill

Yes, I know it's been a while since there's been a post. Yes, yes... I know, I know. We'll be with you in a moment.

Anyway, what was I talking about. Oh yes, while we're at it, let's talk about marriage in role-playing.



In one's fantastical experiences in the fantasy lands of hither, thither, dice and yonder, one may find him- or herself in many a romantic situation. This is perfectly acceptable and in no way wrong. Unless, of course, you break any of the rules stated below.

Firstly: Inter-species relationships are, in fact, greatly encouraged. As Abraham Lincoln once said, "If you are a racist, I will attack you with the North." That being said, however, one must, if you will, consider the children. I don't care if the elves in Azeroth are cute, what I care about is the fact that you're a Minotaur barbarian, and I don't want to have to deal with freakishly tall, pointy-eared bull-kids rampaging through my guild. I. Just. Don't.

Second, one must go into considering classes. No, I'm serious. I mean, warriors only have a prospected lifetime of, like, two minutes. That's all you get. Two minutes. And then what? You're done, that's what. Done. On the other hand, sorcerers or wizards last forever, but they never stop talking! Conquer the world, this. Epic weaponry, that. Blah, blah blah blah blah.

Three: Avoid rogues. Period.

Four: Be cautious as to what kind of role-playing game you are involved in. If there is any sort of dice roll involved in your newfound relationship, run for the hills. If you happen to get a magical amulet from a strange old hermit in the hills, consider yourself better off. Rather, if you find an ancient dragon with a +10 to flame damage and a rather awful craving for flesh, you may instead reflect upon how much better your life would have been if you had just rigged the dice.

Lastly, I would like to quote what the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy has to say about love: "Avoid, if possible."

Confusion, 1986.

Slightly over a month now into our proverbial slump (or "rump," as some have it), I receive in my usual spot (a locked filing cabinet under a park bench at midnight), a nondescript manila envelope marked only with a large, sloppily-written question mark. Inside said envelope was a slip of paper containing the following message in an encrypted form of iambic pentameter. After decoding the cypher, it read something like this:

I think. Is this the contest. I hope it's not. what am I supposed to say now....??

That's right.

Dear Confused,
I get really confused. It seems that I just mix things up all the time. Once, so confused was I, that I actually thought it was 'Jelly and peanut butter' rather than 'peanut butter and jelly'.


I once ate a peanut butter and banana sandwich, you know. It was good. I like it with raisins.

What was I saying?

Well.....I get really confused....It's hard to describe how confused I get. I don't think you even have an idea, dear Abby.

Gear DAG,
I can very slyly antiseptic with you on this portobello. It is not unportly for our readers to often fall through rifts in the time-space continuum, but I can assume you that I will help you in any way I can return you to your home time of June 4th, 2000 and 7. The date now is Novermber 9th, 2007, and while gas has gone down by five cents, I can assure you that hats are still worn on (wherever local law permits) heads. The deadline for the contest I believe you to be referring to ended on June the 16th of the year in question. The reason for your leaving your time and coming to ours, as far as I can discern, must have stemmed from your I must warn you, however, that if you are reading this currently, that there are very many dangers in our pedestrianization. However, if you follow these few Pisces of advice of survival in today's world, you should find your way to normality very shortish.



1. Do not look the Dunder Mifflin Man directly in the eye.

2. When searching for portals into alternate dimensions, forget it; they hate being founded.

3. Tripping, while allowed, is considered unsportsmanlike, and should be treated with caution.

4. Old MacDonald had a farm. That farm, however, has been laid to waste in the recent uprisings of communist regimes. The duck no longer goes "quack, quack" either here nor there.

5. Putting your left foot in, then taking your left foot out does not give you a "get out of jail free" card.



I give you credence, dear Abby. Be kind to the tollbooth man and he give you free pass to 1996. From there, it's the second left.

Silence is Golden...

Dear Give a Gripe,

"AUHGGG!! Our dog keeps shedding hair everywhere! What do you recommend for a hairless house?"
~Hair Ball

You know, Hair Ball, we debated long and hard on this and honestly, I just don't know where to start anymore. But I'll try. Because it's you, Hair Ball. Because it's you.

The main topic of our debate, dear reader, was unfortunately the best way to go about de-hairing one's house. And, we realized that, in essence, you really can't do much about it without effecting the problem at its source. That, of course, being the dog.

Now, we obviously can't just have you get rid of the dog, of course. But, what is one to do about a shedding dog, I wonder? As it so happens, I was de-linting my suit while pondering this today, and inspiration struck. I was using duct tape.

Not that I necessarily recommend duct-taping your dog... well, at all, but.... it's certainly the most humane way of going about things.

51 Ways NOT

Is it? Can it be? Why yes, it is! Yes, my friends, this is the start of yet another feature from yours truly. Yes, yes, I know. We haven't been posting a whole lot lately. But it was summer! We had a right to be lazy. And so did you! Go outside or something, ya bums. :P

You'll notice --unless you really haven't been paying attention, you'll notice-- that in life, there are many many ways to complete meaningless, useless and oftentimes utterly meaningless tasks. By the process of elimination, I have prepared a list (and will prepare a list, at least once a week) of how not to do these things. Hence the title.

Firstly, I'd like to look back at a rather disturbing experience with my little brother, which inspired me to give you all a list that is very important, and holds the warm, slightly dampened spot in my heart. All of these ways not to treat your computer stem directly, I kid you not, from actual conversations and/or events. Believe it.


51 Ways NOT to Treat Your Computer
1. Mindlessly pressing the power button.
2. Mindlessly kicking the power button.
3. Mindlessly disassembling the power button and converting it into a reagent for your own fiendish needs.
4. Mindlessly pressing the power button with tactical nuclear weapons.
5. Picking up and dropping your computer.
6. Unplugging your computer.
7. Picking up and dropping the computer off a very large cliff.
8. Filling your computer with very large cats.
9. Filling your computer with any kind of cat.
10. Inserting into your computer a very angry rabid animal.
11. Inserting into your computer any sort of rabid animal at all.
12. Inserting into your computer any sort of animal, period.
13. Placing your computer into a pressure chamber.
14. Placing your computer into the path of an oncoming automobile.
15. Washing it. (While it makes your PC cleaner, it pretty much screws up whatever previously worked. Odd, isn't it.)
16. "Feeding" it treats. (Despite what you may see on your browser, it doesn't like cookies.)
17. Giving it a boring name. (Holly's is Mel, for example. While mine is His Royal Penguin Overlord.)
18. Overheating it by playing hacked copies of Halo 2.
19. Using the heat to fry small amounts of food while waiting for your computer to reboot because you were playing a hacked copy of Halo 2.
20. Using it as a counter-balance for your homemade trebuchet.
21. Using it as a counter-balance for your little brother's trapeze act.
22. Using it to listen to and/or play bologna. (Bologna is NOT a DVD.)
23. Bologna is not a DVD.
24. Feeding it to large, ravenous beasts.
25. Feeding large, ravenous beasts to it.
26. Going through all the trouble of giving it a highly intelligent and flexible artificial intelligence, and giving it a stupid name like "HAL."
27. Giving it access to the lock mechanism on the pod bay doors.
28. Giving it eyes.
29. Giving it internet connection, and never using Google.
30. Giving it internet connection for the soul purpose of trading items in the latest expansion of "Dungeon Dork EX."
31. Using it solely to play Solitaire.
32. Storing a six-pack of beverages on top of its cooling fan.
33. Playing only CDs that title ends in "the 90's."
34. Playing any CD that ends in "the 90's"
35. Using the voice function to say "[insert your name here] is kewl." Repeatedly.
36. Using it to practice your hammer toss.
37. Using it to practice anything with the word "toss" in it.
38. Devoting an entire drive to Captain James T. Kirk.
39. Devoting an entire drive to Leonard Nemoy.
40. Using the phrase, "Take me to Warp 10!" whenever you log onto the internet.
41. Opening and closing windows in such a way that it composes a rendition of Bach's 5th in G minor.
42.
43. Asking about #42.
44. Frequenting Mac vs. PC forums, just so you can conveniently advertise your World of Warcraft trading account in the middle of intense debate.
45. Making comments about it hat reference to obscure pop culture icons.
46. Dropping it "like it's hot."
47. Creating a macro that generates ten MySpace accounts per minute, that all instantly add yours as a friend, just to make you look popular.
48. Putting in two CDs at once to "fool your friends."
49. Using your CD tray as a cup holder.
50. Using its hard drive magnets to hold pictures on your grandma's fridge.
51. Using your PC itself to your pictures to your grandma's fridge.

Survival in Starbucks Part 2: You've Got Decaf

"The whole purpose of places like Starbucks is for people with no decision-making ability whatsoever to make six decisions just to buy one cup of coffee. Short, tall, light, dark, caf, decaf, low-fat, non-fat, etc. So people who don't know what the hell they're doing or who on earth they are can, for only $2.95, get not just a cup of coffee but an absolutely defining sense of self: Tall. Decaf. Cappuccino."
- Joe Fox


So essentially, the problem is, what to get? What you buy at Starbucks defines not only what you drink in the morning, but who you are as a person! In absolute fact, your morning coffee goes one step further than that. What you drink in the morning, if you're not careful, defines your very soul.

Consider, for a very long time during my youth (read: four months ago), I was very unified in what I ordered. That meaning, I only ordered one thing; Grande Mocha Frappuchino. Just because I thought, "Heck, well, I'm too tired/lazy to think about what I really want, so I'll get that." And being a high school Sophomore, that was very much my view on life as a whole. Over the Summer, however, my tastes changed to other sorts of drinks. I started experimenting with other Frappuchino flavors, and even experimented with Chai and teas for a while. And at the time, that was exactly who I was, because I had no idea what to do with myself! It's rough, sure, but you can begin to learn a lot about a person by what they order. Such as how they think, how they behave, etc. Not to mention how they like their coffee.

The trick is, "How do I tell?" Well, to be honest, it's rough. Different drinks can mean a lot of different things, so in fact it becomes an acquired practice to learn about people through their coffee. For example, a Chai tea can mean at least two things about a person. Firstly, it could mean that they're one of those people who enjoy and savor their flavors. Second, it could be that they're a hippie and/or environmentalist. And the list continues.*

Of course, you must consider those people who, unlike some elite few, don't actually know what they want. You might be saying to yourself right now, "Who am I?! What sort of drink will I buy?! What does it say about me?!" Fear not, dear friends. This, too, is a step every Starbucks-goer goes through, and is nothing to be ashamed about. I've composed a small list to get you started:

1. Start small. If you don't know what you want, order simple. Just because the guy in front of you had an order longer than your latest parking ticket, doesn't mean you should feel intimidated.

2. Just because they put the word "Café" in front of a drink, doesn't change what it really is.

3. Never add a flavor if it's your first time trying a drink. Ever. Please, just try it before you ruin it. Then work from there.

4. Always have whipped cream whenever possible. Even if you don't like whipped cream, get it anyway. It's a wonderful way to make friends.

5. Chai is cinnamon. It doesn't mean it's soy, and it doesn't mean it's decaf. Only get it if you like cinnamon! Unfortunately, this is something I have to tell a lot of people. It's not for everyone, so use wisely.


After time passes, you will be able to recognize the aromas and flavors of certain drinks. You will be able to tell the Chai from the Macchiato, and Grande from Tall. Then, eventually, you'll do as I did and go back to that same drink over and over again 'till Summer comes 'round.




*Full Starbucks Personality Cheat-Sheet coming soon.

In Which Tyler Rants - Again

Survival in Starbucks.
Part 1 - In the Presence of Thine Frappuchino

Oftentimes in restaurants, you will walk in, wait in line with a dozen other people, make outlandish decisions (such as whether or not you actually want fries with that), and the process ends with the cashier giving you a receipt with an order number on it, eventually your food, and you are off on your merry, artery-clogging way. Starbucks, however, being the brainchild that it is, adds an extra addend into the equation: They enforce the requirement of using an actual name. Now, while this may personalize your order considerably more, there are two equally considerable drawbacks to such a system. Observe:

1. Firstly, in order to even get a decent cup of coffee at Starbucks now, you have to make at least four decisions. If, like me, you like your coffee early on, at a point which your brain hasn't started working yet, this in and of itself can be quite a lot to handle. So finally, after not only deciding on, but actually pronouncing your order, you cannot go sit down and read the newspaper, you cannot go to the bathroom, you cannot answer your cellphone, you must give them a name.

2. Second, it also becomes a rather large security risk. We should know well enough not to leave our identification lying about, nor let anyone else know our PIN number, and we even teach our children not to give out too much information on the internet. Why? Safety. Yet, what do we do with empty Starbucks cups? We throw them away. Now trash-browsing prowlers not only know our faces, but our names and how we like our double-chocolate low-fat decaf soy vanilla mocha-chinos in the morning.

How do you avoid such strain on your cerebral cortex in unholy hours of the morning? Or, more importantly, the vagabonds bent on tracking you down and inserting said cortex in their evening meal? The procedure, actually, is quite simple: Fake it. The most logical (and practical) way to fake your identity at Starbucks (if really you must go there), is to simply give an order number. No number in particular, just a favorite number you have, or simply the first one that pops to mind. This not only sends your barrister through a loop, but gives you a nice sense of security and identity, with a nice chaser of warm caffeine streaming through your veins, in next to no time at all. The true benefit at this point is that, if you actually used that advice, you are now a cold-hearted enough of an individual to give the taker of your order next to anything. Such examples include "Rumplestiltskin" (my particular barista at the time simply put a large R with a line next to it), "Twinkletoes" "Marsha, Marsha, Marsha", "Incoherent Slave of the Outdated Imperialist Dogma", and "6."

The best advice I can give you now is to practice your best at keeping a straight face while you say it. While Starbucks is usually a very casual organization, at early hours in the morning, the people are no-nonsense, and don't take no extra-whip mocha frappuchino from anybody.

Sibling Submission.

Dear GAG,
Okay, this is a question for anyone working at GAG that has a younger sibling: What is the best way to control your younger brother/sister into respectful submission?

~The unsuccessful Sibling

Dear unsuccessful, (I note the irregular capitalization there, very nice), as you may have noticed, we here at GAG have been in a sort of sibling tizzy as of late. And as such I believe it is a perfect time to end it by answering your question. And I shall do so very simply.

Firstly, bribery never works. Save your money for kids your not related to.

Secondly, memorize the location, weight and throwing range of every brick, pole, baseball bat, hockey stick, and cylindrical object in the house.

Third. Don't, under any circumstance, let your parents know you've read this.


-Space

Dear unsuccessful,

In addition to the above advice: I think it's inherently impossible to control a younger sibling into respectful submission. They have to choose to do it...or at least pretend to when said parents are around.
However, I do believe it's a part of their make up to be as annoying as humanly possible and to drive you crazy(er) in the fastest way possible.
In view of that: First: Try ignoring them.
Second: Take some sort of self-defense class and learn how to use any said previously memorized location of possible weapons in said house.
Third: Secretly order a zapper, tranquilizer, long rope or super soaker (if above methods don't work).
Fourth: Use said weapon on said sibling or hire someone discreet to use said weapon on said sibling (so if your parents do find out, you can say you didn't exactly do it.)
Fifth: Try pleading insanity if your parents do find out.
Sixth: I second and repeat: Don't, under any circumstance, let your parents know you've read this.

~ Aranel

The fine print: GAG is not legally or otherwise responsible for any actions you may or may not choose to take in light of given advice. Also GAG's advice is not guaranteed to work. GAG's advice may contain peanuts.

In Which I (Tyler) Rant:

Little Brothers Are Gifts From God. You have no idea how many times I hear people tell me that, and I must say that I agree. Little brothers are an extremely thoughtful gift from the Lord. They are proof that God loves us, and wants us to stay humble, alert, paranoid and irritable.

Let me explain.

Yesterday, my younger brother somehow sprains his ankle while playing in the back yard. I cannot for sure say whether or not this is actually true, firstly because I wasn't there, secondly because I have no medical aptitude to tell such things. Validity, notwithstanding, we patch him up, put an ace bandage on it and everything, and everything's fine. Or so it would seem... Not two hours later (an hour after bedtime, mind you, due to extremely fortuitous feats of timing), said little brothers comes into the living room with a roll of gauze, describing vividly to us the discomfort it's causing him that his "feet don't match," and that we should wrap the other one. My parents rebutted this plea (and I must be careful here, because they read this occasionally) with a simple, "I'm sorry, deary, but I'm afraid afterwards you won't be able to walk." Which was replied to with, "Oh yeeeeeaaah..."

And if you mind, allow me to digress for a moment (incidentally, if you're reading this and do mind if I digress, you're reading the entirely wrong blog), the combinations of the words "Oh," and "yeah," coming from an eight year old mouth is, to parents, the deadliest utterance known to man. If executed properly, it instantly erases all memory of innocent mistake or wrongdoing, replaced solely by the sensation of utter cuteness in the child. And furthermore, the primal urge to give said child anything his little heart desires. Such as: A drink (Which takes forty-two minutes to substantially "sip"), a story (Which takes anywhere from fifteen to fifty-four minutes depending on how many times the parent falls for "read it again, mommy!"), a hug (which turns into a cuddle, which turns into watching television/listening to the radio/reading a book depending on the parent's activity, a good forty minutes in and of itself) or, as my brother so eloquently introduced, medical attention (a swift thirty-six minutes).

The purpose of that digression in fact leads to the summary of the current digression: Little kids (particularly brothers and particularly mine) get away with anything in the name of attention. Particularly getting out of bedtime, so said sibling may watch TV, etc., and therefore stay up substantially later than a little body should, and therefore wake up substantially later as well, causing everyone else to be late, miserable, grumpy, and completely prepared for it happening again that night.

May I also add that younger brothers are masters of the art of fooling everyone but the people they don't have to listen to.

So next time someone tells you that a little brother is a gift from God, laugh in their face and run into the setting sun, because you have to babysit.


On a side note, just listened to "Clint Eastwood" by The Gorillaz again. Turns out it's not actually about Clint Eastwood. Go figure.


-Space

YouTube

Dear Give A Gripe,

Why is YouTube free? They could make a bunch of money off it.

Sincerely,
Tubeless in Chicago




Well Tuber (can I call you that?), aside from being really nice people, it actually has to do with some very serious inter-galactic law.

The planet of YouTubia, while still a relatively unheard-of planet, consists of a population roughly equivalent to that of Earth. Its system of government is a democratic republic, relying mostly on the vote of the people, filtered through "moderators" 'till it gets through to what's called an "admin." While this is not entirely dissimilar from what we have in America, the culture of Planet YouTubia relies solely on recording one's self, and loading that recording onto a floating hologram projector, which then travels out into one of the many "greeting places" center around the main cities of YouTubia, and attempt (note: attempt) at actual conversation via these videos. Each party then has their projector record other people's projections for later viewing, reviewing, and overall enjoyment.

When YouTube was created, completely without knowledge of YouTubia or its inhabitants, it was originally meant to be a pay-as-you-go website, but in the recent 1994 meteorite crash, containing the "YouTube Stone," revealing much about the planet and culture of YouTubia, YouTube was forced, via the government's will to live in peace with all alien life-forms (especially the ones with guns bigger than ours) to remain free.

Since then, the citizens of Earth and YouTubia have lived in blissful ignorance, and a general state of not blown up.

-Space

Yellow-Tail Wine - Uncovered

Dear Give a Gripe,

My older brother keeps telling me about how Yellow-Tail Wine is the only wine that comes from kangaroos. Is he telling the truth, or is he just pulling my leg?

Thanks,
Wine-less in Australia.



Well, Wineless, I have no idea what pulling your leg has to do with it, but your brother is absolutely correct.

Yellow-Tail wine, found only in remote regions in Australia is a signature Italian-Australian blend. Started by a small organization of around seven Italian women, they would corral the kangaroos into a large basin. Once they were all inside, the women would stand on the rim of the basin, start one of their many wine-stomping chants, and jump on them, simultaneously. The reason kangaroos are used is still a complete mystery, however today's top viticulturists have found that kangaroo meat, when crushed, juiced and distilled, gives off almost the exact same flavor of whiskey and soda, with twice the mental and physical effects. When mixed with such concoctions as Aunt Jemima's Jemimaphobia (an ingenious alcoholic beverage, known for killing cows at five paces), it not only yields such extraordinary colors as purple, but has been known to remedy such diseases as a fever, chicken pox, and early forms of malaria. Besides, how else do you think you would get red wine? Grapes? Bah.

Ooo-la-la-doo-la-la-dee-la-la-dum,
We make not ale nor whiskey nor rum,
'Tis wine we crush beneath our feet,
And no ordinary wine,
But kangaroos!
How neat!
Ooo-la-la-doo-la-la-dee-la-la-dum...

- Old Italian Wine Song (Rough English Translation)

As you can probably guess, however, this form of enjoyment didn't go over well with a lot of the environmentalist groups, much less the kangaroos. Sooner or later a few protests broke out, demonstrations and stuff. One such incident happened back in August of '84. An Italian tourist, just back from her extraordinary diving lessons with "Fabio," fully clad in Hawaiian t-shirt, Bermuda shorts, and American-brand flip-flops (her relatives said later that she was always big on dressing up like she was somewhere else, Apparently she wore the exact same outfit on their trip to Anchorage, Alaska), when suddenly a kangaroo activist leaped from the second-story window of "Vinnie's Barber Shop" and landed on her. Crushing the neck first, then the liver. After the police arrived, the only vestige left from the horrible accident was a bloody note saying "Don't knock the Kangaroos" signed with a paw-print. After that incident, Yellow-Tail Wine, Inc., the number one exporter of said delicacy slowly declined into bankruptcy, only to go back into business again after the whole Jessica Simpson "Is it tuna, or chicken?" controversy, when people decided, "Screw the chicken, we want kangaroo." And are now flourishing in downtown Sidney.

- Space