Potent Potables

(I orginally wrote this on January 25th, 2002.)

Hello, my name is James. Let me tell you something.

I used to have thick, lustrous hair - short and wild in front, long and mullet-like in the rear - and I used to wear it in a stylish fashion. Of course, that style was best described as "Greasy-Rodent-Burrowing-Into-My-Brain-Stem" - but hey, it was the early nineties, and I had been in an all-male high school during the latter part of the eighties, so what did I know? Compared to some of the carnival fugitives in that place, I was absolutely on the stud-osity level of Corey Haim (or possibly Feldman). I'm also pleased to report that I have never once dyed it green (more on this later).

In addition, I used to weigh about 160 lbs. (or for those of you foreign readers, 442.4 kilopascals (or 12,840,566,747,000 lira)), and I also at one time was able to instantly recall, at some purely limbic, neural-circuit level, insanely complex combinations of button-presses required for the super-secret final finishing moves in ultra-violent combat video games like "Visceral Mangler Combat" or "Bloodlusting Death-Bludgeoners 3". (Hint: In the game "Pugilistic Psycho-Penguins", at the end of the QVC Warehouse level, stand next to the crate of Joan and Melissa Rivers jewel-encrusted Faberge eggs, and in rapid succession, press Up, Down, Left, Right, A, B, Up, Up, C and D, X, Y, Z and Down, Left and Right, Close Doors (><), Equals sign (=), and Power. This will unlock the window, and you will perform the Double Defenstration maneuver, currently banned in most Islamic countries. Try to aim for the taxicab roof, and during the crash you will hear the cab's horn play "The Yellow Rose of Texas"!)

So, as you might expect, time passed. When I inevitably lost the majority of my mane, gained forty pounds, and lost the ability to hit the high notes in Starship's "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now", I thought I had hit absolute rock bottom. I was so terribly, naively wrong. I have become - brace yourself - a "Customer Service Representative".

(Pauses for collective gasping and swooning)

That's right, it's true. I’m now a “Customer Service Representative” (hereafter referred to as a CSR, since I don't want to keep typing it over and over). I answer phones for a major financial corporation, just like the numerous defendants frequently seen on such popular daytime game shows as Judge Judy, Judge Mills Lane, Judge Reinhold, Court TV, The People's Court, The People's Eyebrow, The Price Is Right, Let's Make A Plea-Bargain, and C.O.P.S. As you've no doubt witnessed, all of the people on these shows are insane, and a scary percentage of them have job titles like "Customer Servicing Agent" (CSA) or "Customer Care Specialist" (CCS), as if that somehow sounds better than "Person Who Answers Phone Calls Made By Screaming Irate Customers All Day Long For Not Much Better Than Minimum Wage And As A Result The Aforementioned 'Person' Has Become Completely Unhinged" (PWAPCMBSICADLFNMBTMWAAARTAPHBCU). How else can you explain the case of a female "Customer Quality Representative" (CQR) who sued her sister for $3,500 of Pain and Suffering as a result of a bad haircut she was forced to wear to her high school prom seven years ago? (Apparently, the sister used the wrong bottle of chemicals, and the plaintiff's locks were dyed a kind of green, resulting in a humiliating break-up with a boy she obviously would have married otherwise and who is now a successful surgeon with a nice house, nice car, and a nice stock portfolio. Also she developed mange.)

I admit, I used to cast the first stone at these people, but after I went through my fifteenth broken TV screen, I figured this was far too expensive (not to mention messy) and I resorted to standard name-calling and blasphemous condemnation. But one day I wondered: How dare I criticize those I don't understand? Of course the grass looks greener on my side of the white picket fence, but unless I was willing to bite the bullet and put my nose to the grindstone while walking a mile in their shoes, how else could I sleep easy at night in this winter of my discontent? So, in the name of good sportsmanship and fair play, liberty and equality, and justice for all, I took a position as a CSR. In my short time working there, I have turned over a new leaf and left no stone unturned to snoop high and low and discover beyond a shadow of a doubt the only thing more irritating than the overuse of colorful metaphors and folksy phrases – and that is the overuse of acronyms (or, as I like to call it, T.O.O.A.).

My employer, a “TSC” (or Telephone Service Center) flagrantly engages in such acronym-onius practices as “PID” (Proper Identification), “PQ” (Personal Quality), “CFS” (Customer Focused Sales), “OJT” (On-The-Job Training) and “CMS” (Call Management Solutions). There are other, more ominous abbreviations lurking around the place, too, such as “SPSH”, “RCP”, “TKS”, “BYOB” and “M.O.T.H.R.A.” (I can only hope that I one day have the security clearance to discover what these stand for. I’m a little scared that if I go snooping around, the RCMP may have to send me to the E.R., ASAP!) All of the procedures and passwords and acronyms and secrecy at the TSC often make me feel like I’m working at a government military installation, or at N.A.S.A. This brings me (finally) back to my original point, which was space aliens.

No, seriously, I wasn’t discussing actual space aliens, but rather the non-human nature of the many employees I work in close proximity to each day. After having been a TSC CSR for a few months, I can safely state that I was absolutely correct in my earlier assessment and criticisms – most of my co-workers are insane. Many of them display a frightening lack of societal norms and possess questionable fashion sense. Also they are often unhygienic. So while my previous “Corey”-ness may have passed, I am reasonably confident that, compared to the gypsy sideshow freaks I see drooling onto their foam microphone mouthpieces each day, I’m still at least a John Cusack (or maybe Oliver Platt).

So what does the future hold for me now? Apart from my plan to be running the TSC within five years, I am also orchestrating a highly public and lucrative lawsuit for personal Pain and Suffering as well as personal Fat and Lethargy, due to the repetitive stress injury of clicking my left mouse button a couple of times each day, and the highly taxing chore of sitting in a comfortable reclining chair for eight sleepy hours a day. Watch for me on Judge Judy – I’ll be the pear-shaped litigant with a gauze-wrapped claw of a hand that looks like it’s straight out of Boris Karloff’s wardrobe. I’ll try to remember to shower that day, so you don’t feel the need to hurl a rock through your television screen.

Thank you for calling, and have a nice day!

What is The Enigma Puzzle?

Full disclosure: I created it. It's a web-based puzzle game, requiring nothing more than your computer and an internet browser to solve. The goal of each level is to figure out how to advance to the next level. With 63 (and counting) levels already published, it's an increasingly fiendish challenge that few can overcome. As of April 29th, 2006, over 20,000 players have started the puzzle, and only 8 have made it to level 63.

The Enigma Puzzle has been featured on various gaming websites like JayIsGames, Nordinho and Flabber, earning a spot on JayIsGames's "Recommended List" and "Featured Replay" section.

See what other players have said about the game:

"this riddle is fun! Good learning curve too, and totally fair!"- maniac

"i'd just like to say, this puzzle is awesome! i seriously can't wait for the next bunch of levels! anyway, you guys even inspired me to make my own puzzle"- garrettrub

"I alternately love you and hate you, depending on which level I'm currently working on."- anticon

"I've been greatly enjoying the puzzles, and truely appreciate the amount of work that must be involved in putting something like this together, as well as making yourself available when we need an extra nudge (or all out push) in the right direction."- gmcmom

"E.T. some days I don't know if I want to kiss or beat you depends on what puzzle I happened to be stuck on... Can't wait for this nightmare of a game to continue (mean that in the nicest way possible!!)"- odoc69

"Just wanted to say THANK YOU for invading my mind ever since I found this puzzle on the net. It has been a love/hate/love relationship since level 10. But in the end, Enigma is better than crack and I keep coming back! Thanks for a great game and an even better way to waste a day!"- sissy907

"Oh no!! This is the end?? You mean I have to do laundry now??? So ET, are [the new levels] ready yet? are they ready yet?are they ready yet?are they ready yet?are they ready yet?are they ready yet?are they ready yet?"- judyg8or

"he should put slogan underneath the title on the start page: 'who neads a life when you have -enigma puzzle-?'..."- phlakk

"I think Energythief should get a medal for this puzzle.....and then a swift and savage beating from everyone on this forum for giving us many hours of pain and enjoyment"- kingforaday

"I don't want it to be over (for now). I NEED THIS. Ok that was a little desperate. Hurry up E.T."-ndzeus25

"Discovered the Enigma riddles today and from what I've seen so far, I'm impressed."- digger1

"great puzzle (stuck on #15) and I like the daily battle."-danman

Can you win this battle of wits?

I originally wrote this on September 1st, 2001.

I’ve been in Canada for about a month now, and have started to appreciate the minor subtleties between Canadian and American life. Take the local wildlife for instance. No, seriously, come up here and take it all away, please. They (the wildlife) have a way of making you (the human) feel as though you are an unwanted guest, invading their land. They (the wildlife) even have a way of unnerving and scaring you just by staring at you (the human) and not moving. It’s kind of like how the American Mafia would react if you just planted a house in the middle of, say, Howard Beach. Even the grasshoppers brazenly leap into open car windows (the Chevy Celebrity) and climb up the sides of houses. They stare at you with their 74 eyes as if to say, “Hey, buddy, this has been a pretty nice 25-year camping trip for you (the human), but why don’t you leave now, or else I’ll have to call in the marmot?”

That’s right, the marmot. Here’s a true story, which actually happened to my fiancée :

She had driven to Riverside Park last month to watch her 4-year old niece perform at a dance festival. Much fun was had by all. As she drove home, my fiancée thought she heard a noise in her engine, so she dealt with it in the approved fashion, which was to turn her radio up louder. When she pulled into her driveway a few minutes later, she definitely heard a scratching noise from under the hood. Alarmed, she ran into the house, where her brother Joe was visiting. In short order, as the love of my life and her mother supported Joe by hiding at the window, he cautiously popped the hood release and gently lifted the panel, and there, crawling around the engine, was, you guessed it, Pasquale “Six Fingers” Napolitano.

No, it was actually a marmot, and it leapt out of the engine, hissing loudly, limbs wildly flailing. Its message of intimidation and fear-mongering successfully delivered, it raced off into the wilderness. Let me tell you, if you want a sure-fire way to terrify someone, you really can’t beat a marmot. Let’s just say that lots of underwear probably had to be changed that afternoon, if you catch my drift.

In addition to grasshoppers and marmots, there are bears and wolves. Here’s some more true stories: my fiancée’s uncle woke up one morning to find a large brown bear snacking on the low-hanging peaches on a tree in his backyard. My fiancée’s brother Joe had lived on a farm near Vancouver, and frequently had to scare off a wolf who was fond of peeking in their windows late at night. Finally, and most shocking of all, when my future mother-in-law agreed to baby-sit her sister’s dog Willy for a weekend, we awoke one morning to find a puddle of pee on the floor, and Willy completely unremorseful. You cannot tell me this is normal canine behavior. Most dogs I’ve met have been ready to slink away and hide for crimes far less severe, like eating a tray of barbecued meat, or trying to swallow a bottle cap.

You don’t find this level of aggression and fearlessness in American creatures, with the possible exception of New York pigeons. (“Give me bread or I’ll peck your eyes out!”) I’m sure wildlife exists in New York, but you never really see it until it’s dead on the side of a road. All you’ll see still living are a few mice, some spiders, maybe a squirrel if you’re lucky, but no deer or badgers, and definitely no marmots. The best you could hope for is to see one of those degenerate, alcoholic, roadside groundhogs freezing his furry butt off as you drive by at 80 mph on the way to Atlantic City. It might even wriggle his hands spasmodically as if to say, “Hey, b-b-buddy! Wh-wh-why don’t y-y-you pull over and g-g-give a g-g-guy a lift to th-th-the Tropic-c-cana?” That shows how stupid American animals are – even if he hit big on the nickel slots, a groundhog isn’t nearly tall enough to reach the change window.

Yes, there’s definitely something wrong with the animals in Canada, but no lifeforms show as much erratic, unpredictable, cold and calculating behavior than the French. In addition to their legendary cheese eating and wine drinking ways, they’ve begun a new ploy to subconsciously condition the Canadian to be receptive to the inevitable French Invasion. Consider this chilling fact: I am currently drinking a can of Root Beer, but the English half is turned away from me, exposing the French side of the label, which reads “Racinette”. That’s French for “Root Beer”. I’m pretty sure I didn’t put the can down that way. I think that maybe there’s a gyroscope or little wheels on the bottom of the can that orients the French language side towards me. This happens constantly. I’m besieged daily with French writing, and it’s starting to not be weird, which scares me greatly. Let me play a little game with you, to show you what it’s like:

See if you can identify which product (Column 1) belongs to the actual French directions on the packaging (Column 2):

A) Advil Liqui-Gels
B) Short Cuts Shampoo
C) Dove Deodorant & Anti-Perspirant
D) Wizard Dual Action Air Freshener
E) Francoise’s Portable Locomotive Toilet

1) procurent egalement un soulagement rapide et efficace des maux de tete ordinaries, des maux de dents et des douleurs menstruelles, des douleurs benignes associees a l’arthrite, des douleurs musculaires et articulaires, des maux de dos, en plus d’abaisser la fievre.
2) Appliquer sur le cuir chevelu en massant et faire penetrer dans la chevelure. Rincer. Repeter aus besoin.
3) Appliquer une mince couche sur les aisselles. Pour que le produit reste transparent sur la peau, eviter d’en appliquer une trop grande quantite.
4) Bien secouer avant de s’en servir. Vaporiser loin du visage et vers le haut. Aide a maitriser rapidement les mauvaises odeurs courantes.
5) Je pien peaux-peaux en la cheaux-cheaux, sacre bleaux!

See what I mean? This kind of stuff is everywhere up here. I even know that the word for “mild” is “douce”, and there is no need for me to have that knowledge. By aggressively labeling everything in sight, the French are slowly realizing their goal of converting the entire world to their particular brand of swaggering, unwashed, cowardly, elitist, insular, foppish, baby-eating, urine-drinking ways.

(Incidentally, If you’re waiting for an answer to the puzzle above, all I can say is “Le tarter est le depot jaunatre et dur qui peut s’accumuler sur les dents!” (Literally, “My fiancée threw out those bottles already, so I have no idea which is which!”))

They (the French) have to be stopped! No worry, I have a plan to make the French roll over like Lassie in love. The next time any of you in the States come up to Canada, smuggle a couple of Mafia hitmen, or at least a few pigeons, into your suitcases. They’ll no doubt be so offended by the Francophilia of the place that they’ll begin an all out war on the French. I’ll try to track down the marmot.

# posted by energythief @ 8:34 PM 0 comments

I originally wrote this on August 20th, 2001.

So planning a wedding turns out to be hard work.

Coordinating an Allied invasion of Germany, for instance, was probably not this confusing. The Allied leaders pretty much knew what their objective was (invade Germany), and probably didn’t spend much time debating whether the tanks would look better in Dusty Rose or Chartreuse (the answer is Mint) or worrying about the seating arrangement of the troops in the Armored Personnel Carrier (O’Brien can’t sit next to Washington, and Sanchez gets more kills if he doesn’t sit next to Dombrowski). Our wedding, however, is completely different.

There were countless decisions that had to be made, including, but certainly not limited to, picking a date, changing the date, choosing the people in our wedding party, changing the people in our wedding party, finding the perfect bridesmaids’ dress color (lavender), changing the bridesmaids’ dresses to an even more perfect color (silver), making up the guest list, increasing the size of the guest list, adding more people to the already expanded guest list, booking the church, and finding the ideal Filipino priest to officiate the ceremony.

His name is Father Peter and he is a Catholic priest from the Philippines, and an all-around wonderful guy, even if he is a little on the short side. I’m sure he will bring a lot of color to the proceedings, especially due to his unique method of pronouncing normal English words. During one of his recent sermons, I had the pleasure of hearing him attempt the phrase “sometimes it takes people unawares” and coming out with “Shom Time It Taking People’s Underwear”. This, of course, is awesome. Can you imagine the fun we’ll have with “In Sink Neigh Shin Hell Till Debt Do You Park” or “I Know Pronouns You Manna Wife”?

Another fact that factored into the Father Peter factor was the fact that he’s vital to fill in an empty ethnic slot. Anyone who’s ever watched a World War II movie can tell you that you need a certain blend of ethnicities, or else the mission will fail. Our wedding party is no different. We have the Italian, the Polskie, the mixed breed (played with ghetto style by my brother), and, finally, the Asian (F. Peter). The wedding will be a success for sure!

Other necessary strategic decisions included whether or not to have a ceremony with no mass, actually with a mass, but maybe not, but probably yes, choosing the best location for the reception, finding a new best location for the reception, getting my fiancee's uncle to cater the party and getting everybody involved to agree upon the dishes to be served, adding salmon to those dishes, arguing with the reception hall manager about the prices of soda (in Canada it’s called “pop” – be forewarned) and linens and place settings and server fees, choosing and ordering our invitations, addressing and assembling our invitations (this is comparable to the procedure used to assemble, say, an M-1 Abrams tank), sealing our invitations, realizing we (meaning “I”, not my fiancee) didn’t put stamps on our (“my”) reply card envelopes, opening up all the invitations to put stamps on those little envelopes, then realizing that the inner envelopes had no glue on them, cursing, reaching for the blue stick of paste, re-addressing and sealing all the envelopes, hoping nobody would notice, and not telling my fiancee for two months.

(deep breath)

We also had to pick our wedding favors (which required a fair bit of assembly themselves, like a sniper rifle), purchase gifts and bags and cards and trinkets and whatnots for the members of our wedding party, hire a DJ, hire a photographer, hire a videographer (turned out to be free because it’s a family member – whew!), choose a wedding song, choose a different wedding song, choose a different wedding song, choose a different wedding song, choose a different wedding song, help our parents choose colors and what to wear (answer: desert fatigues), get a marriage license, book rental cars, book hotel rooms, create an itinerary for the wedding weekend, create a shower and wedding registry at various stores, and act really, really, really, really, really surprised when the shower occurred, even though we knew exactly when it was, where it was, and pretty much every gift that was going to be given that day.

That brings us to August 20th. Only 47 more days to go!

I must confess that nearly every decision listed above was made capably by my fiancee (with the exception of that invitation fiasco). I really do think that men are fairly extraneous with regards to planning a wedding, except at the actual ceremony part. I did, however, get to do one thing entirely on my own. I got to pick out a tuxedo, with the assistance of Vic, the proprietor of a local menswear store called Torino.

Vic and I considered a wide variety of tuxedo styles, from the standard red bowtie/red cummerbund model (very popular with a certain “cool cat” type of “hipster”, especially those born before 1950), to the pretentious fancy European fop model (ruffled shirt, shiny round lapels, paisley vest and tie, fifty buttons, and optional hair gel), to the classic Jersey Shore Mobster model, replete with black jacket, black vest, black shirt, black pants, and, naturally, a skinny white tie. I would have gone with the last one, but they couldn’t find cement shoes in size 9 ½ wide. I went with a nice, elegant, modern tux instead. It has two buttons, and actual pointy lapels. It’s going to look sharp as I belly-slither down the aisle, with my groomsmen offering cover fire. If I don't make it, at least the chaplain can give last rites.

See you in the trenches!

(Originally written on October 8, 2001)

I am writing to you from the land of Mounties, moose, and Molson, and since you're reading this, it means that I got here alive and well, albeit a little cold. (It's remarkable how fast a laptop runs when it's inside an igloo!)

Actually, it's hot here. Some days have been as hot as 30 degrees. (That's not another snow joke - it's only Celsius. Nobody panic!) The weather has been beautiful and the countryside is awesome and breathtaking.

In my short time here, I've already done a number of Canadian-type activities, such as taking a motorboat fishing on the Thompson River, gone to Family Day at Riverside Park, roasted wieners and marshmallows over a midnight campfire, and picked apricots and apples from the family's backyard. I've also had conversations with complete strangers. Not bad for 10 days.

It occurred to me that most Americans (myself included) think that Canadians have eternal winter, live in igloos, trust their law-enforcement to men in red suits and black hats and bear and moose run rampant in the streets. That is, of course, not true at all. That is only true of the 9,000,000,000,000,000 square kilometers (140,000,024 cubits) to the north of Kamloops. The other 1% of the country (i.e., the 'populated portion') has the full range of seasons (spring, fall, and winter), has a sturdy modern law-enforcement agency in serious blue uniforms called the RCMP (Royal Canadian Mounted Police. I'm not kidding. But they aren't mounted to anything as far as I can tell.), and the bear and moose keep a wary, respectful distance. Also, Canadian beer is stronger than the States'.

So armed with my newfound perspective on Canadian life, I've prepared a helpful guide to 'What's Different?' between life in New York and life in British Columbia. It should be helpful if any of you plan to come up for a future visit:

In New York...
You may not turn right on red.
In British Columbia...
You can turn right on red AND left on red (if you're entering a one-way street).

In New York...
You have a 3-4-2 digit Social Security Number, and you've memorized it since EVERYTHING uses it.
In British Columbia...
You have a 3-3-3 digit Social Insurance Number, and you keep it on a card in your wallet since you very, very occasionally need to use it.

In New York...
You can legally get tanked at 21.
In British Columbia...
You can legally get hammered at 19.

In New York...
You probably never, ever think about Canada. American flags show up in very few logos or signs.
In British Columbia...
You are keenly aware of your proximity to the United States, and have developed a complex about it. Most businesses have designed logos that include a maple leaf or a red and white stripe, even such American mainstays as McDonalds and Sears have modified logos.

In New York...
There are American flags in schools, hospitals, government buildings, parks, and sports facilities. Patriotic citizens even display them on their front lawns.
In British Columbia...
There are Canadian flags in schools, hospitals, government buildings, sports facilities, restaurants, department stores, movie theaters, fast food restaurants, and gas stations. Strangely, almost no homes display the flag.

In New York...
The National Anthem begins with "O".
In British Columbia...
The National Anthem begins with "O".

In New York...
Baseball, football, and basketball are obsessive topics of conversation among sports fans. Most people are bored by hockey, dislike rugby, and hate soccer.
In British Columbia...
Hockey, soccer, and rugby are obsessive topics of conversation among sports fans. Most people are bored by football, dislike basketball, and hate baseball.


In New York...
'Yankees' are a powerful baseball team.
In British Columbia...
'Yankees' are a powerful anti-American epithet. (I thought I was in Georgia at times!)

In New York...
If you drive at 40 mph on a city street, you're way too fast.
In British Columbia...
If you drive at 40 kph on a city street, you're way too slow.

In New York...
One dollar is worth $1.50 Canadian.
In British Columbia...
One dollar is worth $0.66 US. It's also called the 'loonie'.

In New York...
You have to carry a wad of cash, credit cards, debit cards, and checks, since many establishments accept some or none of these as payment.
In British Columbia...
They have a system called 'Interac' which allows you to use your ATM card EVERYWHERE. (I swear to god, even at McDonalds drive-thru.) There's no service charge, and no fee per transaction. It's VERY cool.

In New York...
"Ain't" actually seems to be a word, and grunting passes for semi-intelligent conversation.
In British Columbia...
I heard a radio advertisement whose central joke relied on knowledge of grammar rules. I almost cried.

In New York...
People use pounds, not kilograms.
In British Columbia...
Ok, people use pounds here too. And feet and inches. But they're not SUPPOSED to!

As we can see, the differences between Americans and their Upper American neighbors to the north are vast, but relations constantly improve. Already, the younger generations are fed a steady diet of MTV, hip-hop, and illegal American satellite feeds. I can already foresee a future where I'll smile nostalgically as I dive behind my igloo to avoid the booby-trapped moose-bomb down the street. Ain't it beautiful?

From a press release at http://www.wizards.com/default.asp?x=company/pr/20060119a:

Wizards Of The Coast Takes Legal Action
JAN. 19, 2006 (RENTON, WASH.) –
Wizards of the Coast, Inc., the world leader in hobby gaming and a subsidiary of Hasbro, Inc. (NYSE: HAS), today filed suit in U.S. District Court in Washington against Daron Rutter of Vancouver, British Columbia, an administrator of the website "MTG Salvation." The complaint alleges that Rutter intentionally and repeatedly posted on the site Wizards’ proprietary information he unlawfully obtained. Specifically alleged is the unauthorized display of prototypes from planned releases of Wizards' world-famous Magic: The Gathering® Trading Card Game (TCG). Also named in the lawsuit are individuals whom the company believes provided Rutter with Wizards of the Coast trade secrets. The names of these individuals are not known and they are identified as “JOHN DOES 1-10” in the complaint.

“Wizards of the Coast was dismayed to learn our most confidential property was being displayed on a public message board that is widely read by the Magic community,” said Jared Gustafson, Director of Marketing at Wizards of the Coast. “The unauthorized release of information about prototype cards harms the brand because the cards are seen and judged prematurely out of context of the entire set.”

“Wizards of the Coast greatly appreciates fan sites and the role they play in generating excitement for the world’s first and most popular Trading Card Game,” noted Elaine Chase, Senior Brand Manager for Magic: The Gathering at Wizards of the Coast. “While we encourage fan enthusiasm by permitting the use of authorized and other publicly available images and information, we can not tolerate the unauthorized release of confidential company information.”

Daron Rutter, better known as rancored_elf, is a respected and important member of the Magic-playing community, and I am disappointed with the direction that company has taken. Spoilers for upcoming sets heighten anticipation, and results in a fever-pitch of excitement among fans, no doubt contributing to the company's bottom line come sale date. This seems to be, at its core, an attempt to flush out the high-level leaks within Wizards, but it is sad that Daron, essentially reporting news in a journalistic fashion, should be scapegoated in this way.

See the thread discussing this turn of events over at MTG Salvation.

If you are interested in voicing your displeasure, I'd encourage you to email:

corporateinfo@wizards.com, hasbrogamespr@hasbro.com, or hasbrotoyspr@hasbro.com.

Today I bring you a very special episode of Blossom: political matrioshka dolls from Russia. Here are two pics (and summaries), taken straight from the unintentionally hilarious site http://www.goldengrail.com/ . Claiming that they are "preserving the beauty of the Russian soul", "without claiming for holiness." Well, thank God they clarified that. No translating software was used - the "english" comes direct from the site.

"Here we present you a special class of modern matryoshka dolls called political nesting doll. Our first personage is Lenin. Please do not demonize Lenin, an impartial scientist writes, whose words are proved by a great deal written testimony made by contemporaries. He was just an instrument of fate, and his fate, which means the fate of the whole Russia, could have been different. In 1917 a unique concatenation of circumstances took Lenin to the wave crest, that's why we got where we are now. Lenin was neither a genius nor a devil incarnate, but what personality he was (common, but not "simple") helps us comprehend what happened to Russia and the whole world in the 20th century. Height - 16 cm."

Well, no wonder Lenin failed. He was only 16 cm high! (And please don't demonize Lenin - we're watching you.)



"Another personage for political matrioshka dolls is U.S. President J.W.Bush. As specialists say: "Bush looks very common, so professor Bukenen. - He lingers if he is not prepared. He has got no presidential majesty so characteristic of ,say, Charles de Gaulle. He is not an intellectual, doesn't like reading and debating. But he learns quickly and is quick to grasp the necessary things. Bush certainly doesn't belong to the toilers, likes spending time at home, which worries many people. But as matter of fact Ronal Reagan was the same and now he is considered to be the most outstanding U.S. President. Height - 16 cm."

Well, they got the part about Bush right, anyway. And lookee how cute mini-Carter is!

BONUS: Apart from lots of politically-oriented stacking dolls, Disney dolls have a separate section. I think this proves that Reagan really did win.

Although it's been around a long time, I'm surprised at the lack of circulation the Perry Bible Fellowship has received. It's a collection of hilariously twisted comic strips made by Nicholas Gurewitch. Click around the front page to see random comics, or click the central figure to go to the full archive.

BONUS: Apparently if you submit strip ideas, Nicholas might use them! I love artists that take requests.

Far-out "journalist" Hunter S. Thompson has ended his own life. Any man who writes Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and says of former U.S. President Richard Nixon, "Nixon was so crooked that he needed servants to help him screw his pants on every morning. Even his funeral was illegal. He was queer in the deepest way. His body should have been burned in a trash bin." deserves a tribute. So, in memoriam, here are some java kaleidoscope applets!

Pay special attention to the link in the upper right... it will seek out JPGs from a site of your choice and "kaleidoscope" them. This particular image is showing one of the work-safer results gotten by aiming the applet at milfhunters.com.




All images posted by Hello

Continuing with my theme of dangerously-obsessed internet denizens, I've come across this very interesting site which reports on the populations of various Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Games, and presents the information in a variety of forms. When poring over the data, one fact becomes obvious: The five people playing "A Tale in the Desert" are probably enjoying themselves immensely.


This looks like what would happen if Excel and Missle Command had a baby.
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Though I don't know why, the Billy Zane Museum fascinates me. Only on the internet and in creepy serial-killer-esque houses can you find this level of obsessive attention to detail.


"I can dere-lick my OWN balls, thank you very much."
Posted by Hello

Check out this cool site: http://babynamewizard.com/namevoyager/lnv0105.html. Enter a name and you can see the popularity of that name over the past century (as shown by what parents call their kids). It shows rank, and number of children with that name. If you have a unique name, see if you're listed! (Or if you're really as unique as you think you are...)


As you can see, the name "James" is massively popular, and with good reason. All "James"es are deranged geniuses.
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PC games, when they're not tying into a hit movie, typically mine a few common settings/genres, like the ancient historic world, World War II (or other contemporary military operating environments), the near-future, the far-future or the typical medieval fantasy setting. Occasionally a game busts out of this mold and tackles a subject like the Wild West, "cyberpunk" or modern-day horror. But all in all, there are few games made each year that really create an innovative new world or explore a brand-new setting, and when they do (like American McGee's Alice or Impossible Creatures), they often have significant flaws because they don't have the luxury of relying on the observations of similar games' failings. It's hard to make a five-star game when you're doing it all by trial and error. Wouldn't it be cool to see more games based on other settings, like this 1900's-era fighting game?


The hobo has a wicked "Stealing-Pies-From-Windowsills" finishing move.
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Super Bowl XXXIX is in the history books, and the Patriots win again, with a 24-21 victory over the Eagles! (Sorry, Philly, there's always next year...) One of the drawbacks of watching the big game in Canada is that all the great TV ads are co-opted by local television stations, and we're forced to watch the same Canadian Tire spot 45 times during the course of the game. I now have an insatiable urge to buy the new MotoMaster, though...

If you're in the same boat, or if you just missed the game entirely, checkout the collection of all this year's Super Bowl Ads at IFILM, including the five ads BANNED from network TV. Whet your appetite for the forbidden fruit by checking out the screenshots below.


Why couldn't this guy work on more celebrity outfits? I hear Britney has an upcoming performance somewhere...


Yes-ah, "sundaysdream.com" is a real site-ah, and yes, it redirects you to the Lincoln webiste-ah. Repent-ah, viral advertisers!


An important reminder that breast self-exams are necessary, and should be performed just about anywhere.
All images posted by Hello

Today I'd like to give an extra-special "Hello!" to my best bud, Rob K. Here's a little visual birthday card: Supermodels and Sportscars. Wszystkiego najlepszego z okazji urodzin!


The back seat must be extremely roomy.
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Thanks to FortNinety over at Gaming-Age, we discovered this heavily modified X-Box, placed inside an original 1979 Millenium Falcon!

It's being sold on eBay (UK) for 800 pounds... at the time of this writing, no bids.


Obviously painted for a special run to the Tatooine system, this Falcon sports a stylish "desert-camo" paint job.
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Gwen Stefani, on her new album Love. Angel. Music. Baby., refers to "Harajuku girls" on pretty much every track. Turns out Harajuku is a region of Japan, currently infamous for its street kid "goth princess black white and pink" fashion. Check out this flickr photo archive and the mystery will be over for you.


This is why I always carry a notepad with me.
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I've always wanted to post that. ;-)

Welcome to "Potent Potables", a place where I'll post anything that strikes my fancy. As a bit of a pop-culture trivia maven, expect to see music, movies, books, games and other forms of entertainment. In other words, if you're looking for updates on the Iraq situation, well, yeah, you're probably in the wrong place.