Tuesday, August 31, 2004

8/31/2004 - Input

Hey, you people are some funny sons of guns. As loyal, sexy readers may know, I have been receiving emails from many people in Africa asking my assistance in transferring millions of dollars into the States. The stories are all different and crazy, and usually make reference to my "trustworthiness", which is why they ask me to assist them in fraud (naturally!).

Gang, before any dorks start trying to tell me that this is a scam, and these stories that they tell me aren't true, let me just mention that I realize this. It's all a scam, but, in modern America, we have reached a level of wealth and comfort that I have enough leisure time to make a hobby of analyzing and replying to spam.

A week or so ago, I posted a "Request For Input", in which I asked my loyal, sexy readers to offer some scenarios in response to the aforementioned "scam spam" (or "Scpam"), and I have received the following submissions:

Kumar Singh, from Sopchoppy, Florida presents "Scpam Reply 1" -

In return for my assistance, I'd like to ask you to assist in a clandestine campaign contribution to the Kerry/Edwards campaign. I will transfer $5 million to your account, which you may keep $2 million for your efforts, and transfer the remaining $3 million to the Democratic Party...

Kumar continued with very clear directions, including some comment about how there needed to be $1000 in the receiving account, due to some fees or something. At any rate, the whole scenario sounded too realistic for me, and I'm thinking that Kumar may have accidentally revealed an actual plan.

Jesus Gracias, from Hopeulikit, GA submitted "Scpam Reply 2", which I have affectionately subtitled "One-Two Punch" -
Yeah, right. I don't believe you, you spammer. Go and trick somebody else dummer.

Whether or not Jesus spelled "dummer" like that on purpose is inconsequential. Jesus gets a big A+ for being direct. Oh, and thanks for dieing for my sins, dude. That was really cool.

Margarita Finlayson, from Bugscuffle, Tennessee offered "Scpam Reply 3" -
I don't know who you are, but you're really creeping me out.

Leave it to a woman to totally miss the point, but still make you feel ashamed.

I've also received a substantial amount of emails that merely say something like "quit being such an idiot". While those were direct, they lack imagination. I don't think that I'll use those as a reply to the spammers.

Thank you, every single one of you who contributed. Your reward is in Heaven.

8/31/2004 - Dirty Spam

Spam fascinates me. A common one that I've seen lately is an advertisement for "discrete relationships". I actually received one this morning with the subject line "Date Someone Else's Wife. Don't Deal With Headaches". This could be read one of two ways in my mind.

First, this could be implying that your wife tells you that she has a headache, but if you date someone else's wife, she won't give you that line. I believe that the modern day equivilant of "I have a headache" is "can you please just not touch me?". Perhaps, in the olden days, Donna Reed and her breed would learn that headaches kept men at bay, much like garlic to vampires. I am so glad that the world has learned to at least be a little more direct.

Another interpretation of "Don't Deal With Headaches" is that, if the woman is married to someone else, you get to go home alone afterwards and not have to listen to her bitching and moaning about her "feelings", and the "why don't you ever listen to me" baloney. This interpretation MUST be incorrect, though, since any belief that dating another man's wife would make dealing with women easier just seems flawed to me.

Guys, I hate to be the one to break it to you all, so I'm going to put this gently. If you want to date women, you will have to deal with headaches, so just accept it. Pornographers have misled you. Surprise!

Friday, August 27, 2004

8/27/2004 - Naming Your Product Line For Dummies

I just ordered two "Dummies" books. Skiing For Dummies, since I plan to start skiing for real this year (I started last year, but wasn't really serious); and Poker For Dummies, since I was just recently invited into a "serious" poker group. I'm not meaning to imply that Rick's group isn't serious, but they put up with me and my requests to explain every game each time we play it. This new group absolutely will not tolerate that. This new group has cigars and whiskey. This is big time.

I don't think anyone really cares about the above paragraph, but it was just to let you all know what triggered my thought process. There's another series of books out there with the same concept of simple language and thorough content. However, this series of books uses the phrase "The Complete Idiot's Guide To x".

Perhaps they should rename the series to "The Smelly, Stinky, Boogerfaced Moron's Guide To x". Seriously, I have to admit that, no matter how good "Idiot Guides" are, I will never purchase one. Reading one, I'd feel so vulnerable and defeated. Didn't "idiot" used to be a psychological classification for a person with a severely lacking IQ? Like moron. It's no longer playfully referring to someone's lack of knowledge in a particular subject, like "dummy", rather it's taking a poke at a person's mental capacities.

In a way, it makes me feel good. It proves to me that, even if something's not a fantastic idea, as long as you run with it without looking back, you can probably do pretty well for yourself. I'm sure that some people will buy the books because the phrase "Complete Idiot's Guide" caught their attention. That's what marketing's all about, right? They can't pander to people like me, who are so worried about my image and how I appear to others that I'd avoid a book series due to the name.

So does this mean that I avoid things because I myself superfically judge people based on their buying decisions? Yes! Totally!

Glad we settled that.

Thursday, August 26, 2004

8/26/2004 - Eat The Twinkie

I just ate my first Twinkie in probably 20 years. I can't remember the last time I had a Twinkie. I think I was in high school, maybe a sophomore, so 19 years. 19 years without a Twinkie.

I think that I'm grabbing at straws. I think back... what was that grand sense of contentment I had before life became so complex? Sitting on the dock. Watching my aunt's dog Daffy run with a toy that would envelop her head like petals of a flower. Listening to the water gently kissing the shore.

What is missing now? How can I go back? Twinkies... Twinkies. Yes, Twinkies were a part of my life. Something in them touched me so deeply. The cream filling? The luscious golden sponge cake? The way the three holes in the bottom were a curiosity that left three lickable cream splats on that cardboard, while the question still stood - how could they bake a cake around the cream filling?

Life's mysteries were cruely solved as I grew older. Nothing is as mystical as it appeared to me back then. Nothing. No magical joy in those things, royal in stature, once they became understood by me. Once they were understood, the royalty became common. Now there are no heroes, no Twinkies.

So I ate this Twinkie. Anticipating a hungry spot of my soul to be nourished, kissed. I guess it was okay. Maybe. I have no motivation to have another Twinkie. Ever.

Now I'm hungry for the next mystery. The next "unknown". The next adventure. The next piece of the world that I can take into my own personality, my own self. This Twinkie triggered something in my head. I could have sat and worshipped it without ever knowing it, without ever knowing the True Nature Of A Twinkie. I didn't. I dominated that Twinkie.

My life lesson from the Twinkie: Eat The Twinkie. Make the mysteries reality, and there will be another mystery right around the corner. Some may ask "isn't this constant thirst for the next mystery futile? You'll never be happy when nothing satisfies the thirst." My thirst is for the quest, not the destination. I play the game solely to keep playing.

Now, everyone bear in mind, this was all triggered by a Twinkie. A Twinkie! Can you believe that? What if I met the Dalai Lama or something? He'd sit calmly, peacefully, while I told him about the True Nature Of A Twinkie. Beneath the sage smile, he'd be thinking "get this guy away from meeeeheeee..."

Monday, August 23, 2004

8/23/2004 - Hey, Yo... Ummm... Thanks For The Input

Y'all don't tumble all over yourselves giving me input, mmkay? Take turns, everyone. We've got to keep this orderly.

Here's how my lack of responses breaks down, as follows:
26% - Didn't think I was serious
43% - Are Democrat, and only read my blog because they don't like me and need constant reminders that they don't like me
17% - Thought that Burkina Faso really is a rapper
32% - Have moved on with their lives without me

Totals don't add up to 100% because of rounding.

Friday, August 20, 2004

8/20/2004 - Request For Input

I received TWO (2) offers to transfer millions of dollars out of Africa today! At this rate, many African countries will be doomed to struggle with civil wars, starvation, and mass human suffering. We can't let this happen!

It gets better. Both of these offers are from THE SAME MAN located in Burkina Faso. I regret that, even though I've heard of Burkina Faso, I don't know much about the country, to the extent that I can't confidently pronounce it. That won't stop me from enjoying myself, though.

The first funny thing - one offer came from a bank in Ouagadougou. I hope that this doesn't offend any Ouagadougouanianites, but your city or state or region must be a delectable adventure to pronounce. I would like to live there so I could wake up every morning and say "I love to live in Ouagadougou!" I would find a way to fit it into every conversation, which would be peculiar, but less peculiar if I were in Ouagadougou than here in conservative Grand Rapids.

Second - one of the emails began with a substantial amount of religious wording. This man prayed and meditated "fervently", which I assume means that this man has been led by God Almighty Himself to me. I imagine the "fervent" prayer. Sweat forming on his brow, turning to blood as he seeks guidance from The Almighty to fraudulently transfer millions of dollars. "Lord God, who can I trust with our Holy Mission?"

These things curiously aren't going away by me replying to them. So I think I need to form my own Counter-Fraud Unit. Now I ask the help of my loyal readers, dear minions. I need a story to give these people in reply, with the same language and urgency as the messages I receive. A long, heartfelt story, peppered with factual information about public figures to make the story seem believable. Some examples, to sharpen your wits:

- That chick from Tomb Raider has infected lips, which have caused them to grow to the freakish proportions we see on screen. I must covertly transfer 30 million dollars of hers to Burkina Faso so she can surreptitiously receive a life-and-lip saving operation.

- Hillary Clinton is really a man, and he must secretly get a sex change operation before he tries to run for president, since being a woman is part of his campaign platform. Of course, this operation must take place in Burkina Faso, since, once the average American reads the headline "Hillary Clinton Becomes A Woman In Burkina Faso", they will think "Burkina Faso must be a rapper", then they'll think that Hillary Clinton is cheating on Bill with a rapper. Infidelity, according to liberal dogma, is a call to arms to support the offender. Hillary's in like Flynn. Vast Right Wing Conspiracy DERAILED! Truth, justice, and vomitous immorality finally prevail! HAIL SATAN!

Okay, sorry about that. Deep breath, Jay.

So, I need the help of my dear, sweet, sexy readers. I know people read this, even though comments are rare. I can only guess that you are shy. Don't be shy. Email me directly at jcvonrosen@yahoo.com with any ideas for stories I can create in reply to my future African beneficiaries.

Wednesday, August 18, 2004

8/18/2004 - Ticked Off

Does anyone else out there get ticked off about spam? The new fad for spammers is to have the subject line look like they're your buddy that's sending a quick email. "One more thing", or "I forgot", or "Sorry - One more question". The recipient's thought process, in order...
1: "Hmm... a friend of mine sent me a message. I should open it."
2: "What the heck is a 'MILF'? Maybe I should click this..."
3: "YEEEEE-HAAAAAWWWW!!!! NOW I NEVER NEED TO LEAVE THE HOUSE!!!"

But that's just me. I think most people would think "darnit, do they really think that, if they fool me into looking at their product, I'll buy it?" It ticks me off. Is this good business?

Gosh, that was succinct. I really can't think of anything else to say about that. I think we should make up a new term for such a succinct gripey whine about something that mildly bugs everyone, but in today's society, instead of just thinking "that's life", we let out a little blurb-ette in which we speak about how it sucks to, for example, get spam, while we walk blindly past people enslaved by drugs and depression, whose futures are forfeit without proper guidance. I got spam. Wah. The new term for such a short-sighted gripe is a "Larry-Kinglet". Those tick me off.

Tuesday, August 17, 2004

8/17/2004 - I'm In Love With Paris Hilton

I told my brother-in-law a couple weeks back that I liked Paris Hilton. He was flabbergasted.
"Jay, have you ever seen this girl talk?"
"No"
"Oh, wow - she is really... ", cringes, then "... no. No"

Okay. So I'm always ready for reality. I sit down and watch part of that show. Guess what? She's PERFECT!

I'll wait while any female readers come to grips with their own inadequacies. Go ahead. Try to find something wrong with her.

"She's so stuck up!" She's rich and hot. She should enjoy it.
"She's a sl*t!" Oh, c'mon. Make a few porn videos, and you're labeled for life.
"You do know that Paris Hilton is an idiot, right?" says Bek. So?

While I pour my soul into this poignant essay, Bek asks "What do you find attractive about her? Seriously."
"She's in love with herself. It's cute."
"You like self absorbed girls."
"You're pretty quick."

8/17/2004 - Pent Up

I was looking through some old emails today. I have a friend in Kalamazoo that I literally tell anything, so I tell him graphic thoughts from time to time whenever I'm having trouble dealing with them.

So I found one email, in which I went into the concept of physical intimacy with women at a time when emotional intimacy was impossible. I had gone nearly three weeks without "intimacy" at the time I wrote the email, and I was having strange... urges.

Let me paint the picture with brighter colors for a moment - my marriage had ended two years prior and a long term relationship had ended a month prior. I basically had no skills at initiating contact and evaluating women based on what I wanted out of a long term relationship. Getting into a long term relationship without building the evaluation skills first was really wrong.

But I had crazy mad hormones rushing through the system.

Hopefully, the picture is clear and bright. I had had enough bad experiences that I was blocking these urges. I was denying that I wanted a woman, because women meant pain. Some primitive part of my brain wasn't on board with this thought, though. It believed that women meant pleasure. I'll avoid crude language, but I hope you understand what sort of pleasure it was focusing on.

Now, my brain, programmed to avoid pain, didn't even realize that I was avoiding women. It just seemed natural - stay away from the ladies. Baseball's interesting. My bass was interesting. Women? Huh! Hadn't thought about that.

Primitive desires don't go away, though. So the revelation came while I was watching a cartoon with my children. The Fairly Odd Parents. The mom on the show bent over. I thought "dang, sweetheart, shake that thing a little bit".

A cartoon mom.

So, in this year old email, I was describing this moment - this epiphany. My primitive mind was going to find its lovin' somewhere, and it didn't care where. I can't fight this and pretend that I don't want a little hoo-ha, or else it's going to manifest itself in strange ways.

Like cartoon moms.

Saturday, August 14, 2004

8/14/2004 - Children

It's a cop-out. Every comedian with children does the whole bit about the crazy things children do. However, I'm not a comedian - I'm a funny guy. So it's cool.

Saturday morning. It's time to think about groceries, cleaning, laundry, etc. So I flip the switch on the vacuum, and it sounds really funny. I put my hand by the... do they call it the exhaust? Whatever it's called, it's where the air blows out, and there was barely any air blowing out. I won't go through all my troubleshooting, but there was a clog.

So what was clogging it? Seashells.

I don't know what else to say. I think that this should be enough to cause a mental train wreck. Seashells. Say it with me. Seashells. Someone thought it would be wise to vacuum up seashells.

I'm a slow person mentally. Not that I'm dumb, but it takes me a long time to fathom things completely. I actually took a brain chemistry evaluation, and it said something about my slow neuro-transmission. Hell, I already knew that, and I'm the one who's slow.

So I stood there, picturing the scene, trying to make sense of what would possess any human to vacuum up seashells. It actually did whet my imagination. Think of the satisfying sound of seashells clattering up a vacuum hose.

So the conversation followed...
"Child"
"(yawn) What?"
"Why did you vacuum up seashells"
"I didn't"

Heh - sweet. This is the essence of having children. Kids rock.

Thursday, August 12, 2004

8/12/2004 - Revelation

I just figured out THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE! I know the secret of living, the essence of happiness, etc, etc. Here it is...

Mankind is dysfunctional because we expect to figure it out.

Think about that. The source of emotional pain is the fact that we can't resolve something. But this is based on one presupposition - we are able to resolve it - which I contend is untrue. This is why people say ridiculous things like "time heals all wounds". Time didn't heal it - time just dimmed the memory, so you forgot how much it hurt.

Now follow with me for a moment... why can't we just accept our emotional pain without trying to figure out how to avoid it or resolve it or change it or anything? Would we be as afraid of the pain anymore?

I'm gonna try it out. So here's my new catch phrase - "Damn, that sucked... oh well".

My old catch phrase was "Is your mom hot?" I say that to the 20-somethings who walk around acting all glamorous. I wanna get with their moms.

8/12/2004 - Uncanny

Yup, I have received another request to transfer millions of dollars out of Africa. I don't even have the spirit to make any cocky remarks.

Oh dang. I just deleted it, and I should have replied with "no thanks - I'm already illegally transferring $31 million for two other people - try back next week".

I'm in a faded at 4am mood right now. Letting the world in on my terminology, "Faded At 4am" is a sample file that comes with FruityLoops 3. I think the phrase is very descriptive of a brand of techno. I'm hardcore into drum'n'bass techno, which brings me to today's ramblings...

There is a techno scene, with some artists that I would seriously consider to be some of the world's greatest musicians. I have to rave about my absolute favorite underrated techno artists, negative pH. Grand. Right after I discovered them, they split up temporarily, then they got back together, and now they've got a CD that's about to be released. They are the most consistently great drum'n'bass techno that I've ever heard.

Okay, done with that.

I like hot pretzels. It has to be just the right amount of salt, though. But there's something else. I'm letting you all into my deep, dark, personal world here. If you melt Velveeta cheese, then dip the hot pretzel in there... it reaches me in a way that I'm not used to. Finish it with a Samuel Adams, and I'm on a freakin' ASTRAL VOYAGE!

Who's ADD? Wanna fly kites? Oh look! A bird! I'm an airplane - reeeaaaowrrrrr!

Sunday, August 08, 2004

8/8/2004 - Tired Again

I am weak. I have been getting weaker over the past couple days. Sinking into an illness. It's painful, I'm dizzy, it's very hard to eat, and even harder to carry on with anything resembling my daily life.

And now... it has been harder than ever to accept that I walked away from her. I do, though. I accept it. It's what needs to happen. But I finally noticed some words today that I had heard before...

And when we meet
Which I'm sure we will
All that was then
Will be there still
I'll let it pass
And hold my tongue
And you will think
That I've moved on

If it were easy to do the right thing, everyone would be doing it.

Friday, August 06, 2004

8/6/2004 - Another Funds Transfer

I must be pretty lucky. I just got another email from someone in Africa who wants to give me millions of dollars. This one's pretty good, though.

I received it from Dennis Thompson, Esq, who is a "solicitor at law" in South Africa. His client, Charles Rosen, died leaving $9 million in the bank, and the government is going to take it because Charlie has no kin. The deal is that Chas and I share a last name, and if I declare myself to be Charlie's kin, Denny T, Esquire, will fill out all the paperwork to make it look all legal, and he'll split some of the bucks with yours truly.

Pretty tasty deal, I must say. However, I'm a little wary. That is, I was wary until I read the following line: "I guarantee that this will be executed under a legitimate arrangement that will protect you from any breach of law".

I have a guarantee! What is the risk when I have a guarantee? I have a guarantee from a man I have never met. A guarantee from a man who is requesting that I become a party to fraud. Iron clad!

My oh my... how to reply? I started to write a reply, which began "What a coincidence! Some guy named 'Thompson' just died over here in the States! Give me your bank account number, and I'll transfer his cash right over."

However, I'm thinking that that may not be cocky enough. Maybe "Pinky swear?" or "Uncle Charlie's dead?!?!?! NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! I just talked to him last week!!!!!" or how about "Enlarge your pen!s naturally!" Heh. I like that last one. Spammed ya back!

Tuesday, August 03, 2004

8/3/2004 - Errors

I get some of the most spectacular errors in my code. I actually had one a few months ago, which merely said "Catastrophic Error". Personally, I think that the runtime is overreacting.

However, today I got one that just makes me giddy with the implications. I was able to create an error that reads "Index 8765 is not non-negative and below total rows count". It's basically an index out of range exception, but the wording is like a zen koan. It cannot be understood by applying logic.

Think about that. Let's break it down into manageable chunks. First, we have to assume that there are implied parentheses around everything after the "is not", hence the statement "Index 8765 is not (non-negative and below total rows count), which can be expanded to say "Index 8765 is not non-negative, and Index 8765 is not below total rows count".

Index 8765 is not non-negative. Well, I know that Index 8765 is positive. So positive is not non-negative. Pull two out of the triple negative, and you have a single negative. Hence, positive is negative. We know that is false, so we've evaluated the first part of the expression.

Second part of the expression... "Index 8765 is not below total rows count". I'll have to assume that this is true, since I don't know the total rows count.

So the first part of the expression is false, the second part is true. Now, to the conclusion... false and true equals what, kids? FALSE! That statement is inherently FALSE! My index cannot be both not non-negative AND not below total rows count. That's patently absurd!

Anyway, my logic is plainly flawed, but it was a lot of fun to say.

8/3/2004 - Horoscopes

Today's: "Whoever is on your mind right now has absolutely no idea how far you'll go to make your presence known".

My interpretation: S***n thinks I've forgotten about her and moved on.

Here's more...

Horoscope: "Sometimes anything worth having is worth fighting for"
Interpretation: I should try to get S***n back.

Horoscope: "Right now, finances are on your mind"
Interpretation: I need money to take S***n out to dinner.

Horoscope: "Consult a professional if you think you may be in over your head"
Interpretation: S***n is a professional. Professional hottie!

When will my horoscope quit talking about S***n! Damn!