U


ntil about noon, I was still near Staunton, continuing to tweak Hoagie's new Macintosh. I'd spent a night at the Shaque for the first time since Christmas, 1996.

I don't have time to sit around waiting for a generic commodity like a motherboard, so, in frustrated rage, I canceled the order.

Hoagie called CFW Cellular to sign up for Internet access, and we learned a little about how ISPs function out in the hinterland. For one thing, their service didn't quite meet the standards I'm familiar with at Comet. They said they'd mail me the account information and I'd have it in "two business days." At Comet, we could get a login up and running on our Radius server in about five minutes. Another thing: CFW has no such thing as unlimited internet. 200 hours per month was the most Hoagie could get. For me, such a limitation would suck, but for my mother that ought to be plenty.

Back at Kappa Mutha Fucka, I decided to find out what had happened to the motherboard I'd ordered from Global Computer Suppliers. It was the second one I'd ordered after they'd canceled my first without notice. Guess what? My motherboard had been backordered with no word on when it would ship. I don't have time to sit around waiting for a generic commodity like a motherboard, so, in frustrated rage, I canceled the order, and went off to UVA's Olssen Hall to research the purchase of another motherboard.

In the end I bought a somewhat better motherboard from Tiger Direct. In the past when I'd ordered a 24X CD ROM drive and memory they'd shipped the stuff very fast.

In the evening I watched a frightfully large amount of teevee, all on the Fox network. There's only a few channels and no remote control, so I was sort of stuck with making the best of a mediocre entertainment situation.

I napped from 4pm until 7pm. That killed my appetite for sleep for the rest of the night.

The bathroom humour didn't do a thing for me, and the scenes of women simulating orgasms were tasteless enough to make me fidget in discomfort.

After Melrose Place came this new show called Ally McBeal. It's a sort of situation soap/comedy/drama set in a legal firm that happens to be staffed by attractive horny young yuppies. But in some unusual respects, this show is like nothing I've ever seen before. For one thing, it makes occasional use of extreme computer graphic manipulations to portray the way one person views another: men's tongues dangle like neckties when they ogle the cute delivery girl, a woman appears briefly covered with slime when she advocates a form of legal blackmail, and our chief protagonist's hair stands on end as if jolted by electricity when she reveals too much to the wrong person from her bathroom stall. Bathroom humour is given an altogether unprecedented importance by this show. Much of the action actually takes place in bathrooms, and when people aren't in bathrooms, they can be seen reaching around in their nostrils. But most of all, this show revolves around sex. Sex is treated with an unprecedented directness. Uncomfortably long spans of time are devoted to sexually-charged moments. For example, one woman patiently instructs another in the art of orgasmic cappucino drinking while the camera draws right up to their lips and lingers. The heavy erotic lesbian undercurrents are completely unprecedented. Not that any of this is any good, mind you. The bathroom humour didn't do a thing for me, and the scenes of women simulating orgasms were tasteless enough to make me fidget in discomfort.

Judging by the advertising, Ally McBeal appears to be aimed at hip young married couples. When the ads weren't featuring nose-pierced retro coolsters in their old Chevettes and Levis, they were helpfully suggesting Christmas gift ideas for very small children.

Brick Mansion in the 'Hood Sam came by at a certain point and watched the news and drank beers with Deya and me.

Instead of taking a prework nap, I went to work an hour early. It was the only way to escape the television.

---

In a fair world, I'd be judged not only for my behaviour, but also for my lack of candor about it.

J


udging by his failures getting himself included in journal webrings, it seems Mr. heinovision is still regarded as a pariah by many. I'm not happy seeing somebody being left out to wander in obscurity for the crime of revealing his darkly familiar slice of the human condition.

The only thing that makes me any better than Mr. heinovision, and presumably more of an asset to Archipelago and Open Pages, is that I'm less honest. I'm as much of a racist, sexist, and repulsive womanizer as he, except that in my insincerity, I lead my readers carefully (and too often subconsciously) around the most unsightly aspects of my personality. In a fair world, I'd be judged not only for my behaviour, but also for my lack of candor about it.

I'm never regarded with the same unease that people reserve for Mr. heinovision. Again, society, even the safe little part I joined for warmth from the pervasive cold, is proving itself <insert negative aspersion here>.

At the same time, I think Mr. kingoftheska heinovision is at least as hypersensitive as the people he criticizes. He's definitely more chaotic. I had the feeling things were working out between him and Christopher, and then suddenly kingoftheska is locked down, only for approved cool cats like me to look through.

---

It's nice to occasionally be reminded that I'm not the only cool person in the world.

M


y satirical witchcraft flyer brings me lots of hate mail from angry witches, especially youthful ones in Australia who don't know the difference between "there" and "their." But the other day my flyer was evidently cast in a more favourable light when it was posted in a wiccan newsgroup. For the past several days I've been flooded with supportive email from witches who actually get it. My faith in humanity is by no means restored, but it's nice to occasionally be reminded that I'm not the only cool person in the world. That sounds arrogant, but I mean it in only the most humble way.

one year ago

For linking purposes this article's URL is:
http://asecular.com/blog.php?971110