Richard's Online Journal
[22/03/09] Spoiler Warning
Scholars have recently uncovered this lost canto from Dante’s Inferno. Here, Virgil takes the narrator on a short-cut to avoid rush-hour on the River Styx. It is unknown why this didn’t make it into the accepted version, although the fact that the primary source was apparently written on a McDonalds napkin may have something to do with it.
From the fith bridge, came we upon a smaller pit easily missed. “These wretches are the Spoilers,” my ears heard my Leader impart, smiling ever so slightly as we witnessed this fresh horror. Here lay the sinners, bound in ropes of script pages and celluloid, forever condemened to the pit of Too Much Information. As I watched, one of their number, bespectacled and with an odour of Cheetos and Dew of the Mountain, was freshly shackled in front of a fine steak, staring miserably at a slideshow of photos of a happy cow in a field, and a step-by-step tour of the abattoir. With sound effects.
“Great Pogonophobia,” said my Leader, dispassionate as stone. “Impart unto us the art of this, Inferno’s most justified punishment.”
The hairless monster of whom he spoke - oh that I could forget its blubbery countenance and obsidian-plated laptop computer - didst turn and say “Wotcha. Well, see, first we ram one of these spikes up their bums, then-”
“Ahem,” chided the Leader.
The demon Pogonophobia stood, chastised. “What I meanteth to say,” he tried, “Waseth that here, sinners doth reapeth whateth they hath… look, you do know nobody’s ever spoken like this, right? I sound like a bloody Muppet.”
“It matters not,” I cried. “Tell me of these wretches’ crimes against God and man.”
“Glad you asked,” grinned Pogonophobia, indicating. We turned to see one of the hairy ones, face impossible to see under a forest of brusing and dried in blood. “This one took his fun from ruining the entertainment of hundreds of fans at once, showing up at midnight book signings to bellow spoilers at the waiting crowds. He’s a right one, eh?”
“A foul fiend indeed, no offence,” I agreed. “What punishment awaited him in this, the darkest of the Stygian pits my eyes have thus far witnessed?”
“An eternity of being smacked around the face and neck with the final Harry Potter novel,” grinned the demon Pogonophobia, as once again, the heavy volume found its fleshy target. “Ooph! Should have stuck with comic books. They’re thinner.”
My Leader hesitated, fighting some dark vengeful instinct. “Is that… all?”
It was the demon Pogonophobia’s turn to hesitate, but he was compelled to be truthful. “While being read extracts from Eragon,” he admitted, holding up a signed copy.
“Oh, now steady on!” I cried. “Even the abode of damnation must know some mercy!”
The demon Pogonophobia smiled a waxen, blackened smile. I barely saw him gesture to a demon around the back, who didst put away a copy of “The Iron Tree” in favour of jamming a poker up the canticle of a tormented soul who sighed and sizzled in blessed relief. “Any more for any more?” he asked, hurriedly moving us on.
My Leader nodded imperceptibly, or so he later vouchsafed. He had to nod more perceptibly before either of us noticed, and would sulk about this all day.
We strode past the tormented damned, past lakes of sucking black oil and the wails and lamentations of a thousand fanboys moaning about something called ‘Firefly’. Finally, we entered a dark cave, round and carved of the unholy rock. It was filled with foods of every type, but all the twenty-one tormented souls chained around the edge wanted right now was the single cake that sat on a plinth in the center. The rocks groaned with desperation as they strained on their chains, reaching out to touch it.
“They’ve been looking forward to that for what feels like forever,” uttered the demon Pogonophobia, passing us each a Coke from the nearest vending machine. I expected some dark trick, but no. The can was not filled with blood, nor bile, nor - oh, the mere thought - Pepsi, but sugary nectar from the halls of Empyrean itself.
“Ah,” I cried, pleased to contribute. “So, it’s a bit like Tantalus, right?”
The demon Pogonophobia glared. “No!” snapped he. “Everything here is totally original, you got it? We was getting mortals shoving rocks up hills for all time before them damn Furies was out of nappies. Kindly Ones, my bum. The stories I could tell...”
“We are on a schedule,” warned my Leader.
“What happens here,” continued the demon Pogonophobia, pretending not to hear, “Is that all these people have been told they can have the cake and eat it, if only they wait patiently until Tuesday like good boys and girls.”
“A false hope, no doubt,” I nodded.
“I’m a demon of my word,” said the demon Pogonophobia, grinning. “But watch...”
We did not have to wait long. With a shriek of metal on stone, one of the damned broke free and snatched up the cake eagerly. Eyes glowing red with hunger and lust, ignoring the desperate howls of his unlucky fellow souls, he bit down into it.
“Well, that was disappointing,” he announced, licking his fingers clean. “I wouldn’t have done it anything like that. They should have used milk chocolate. I was expecting milk chocolate, or maybe some lemon frosting. Sure, it was obviously going to be chocolate, but if I’d have been in charge, I’d have used lemon. Lemon would be far more in keeping with what we were promised, and I’d have put more jam in there too. What kind of idiot spends all day making a cake and forgets the jam. Seriously, if I knew how to bake, I’d have made a much better cake than this. Morons.”
“But-” I began. The demon Pogonophobia raised a finger. I realised. All the chains had vanished. The lucky cake-eater suddenly found himself alone, surrounded by a circle of his former peers. Each glared with an anger borne of never being permitted to enjoy the taste on their own terms, unsullied and not made bitter by the greed of their fellow wretch. Whether they understood the irony mattered not, not as the circle closed in, and each found themselves holding a blunted fondue fork in one hand.
“Know what the best bit is?” said the demon Pogonophobia, as the sound of shrieking and splattering died away. “I only went and had a wee-wee on the bloody thing.”
We left him there, hurrying away until the laughter was but a remembered echo. Whatever horrors awaited on the next level could only be an improvement, or so I believed at that moment. Even so, there was one question I knew had to be asked, if I was ever to understand what I had seen in the demon Pogonophobia’s lair.
“How could these people be so cruel as to take pleasure in ruining fellow fans’ hard-earned entertainment with such spoilers?” I asked the Leader.
“I do not know,” he vouchsafed, striding towards the stairs to Cocytus and fresh torment. “But I do know this. EVERYONE DIES IN BATTLESTAR GALACTICA.”
[21/03/09] Webjunk: Comedy Theory
Final conclusive proof that there’s nothing less amusing than trying to analyse humour.
Clarke lists the patterns that are active in humour as positive repetition, division, completion, translation, applicative and qualitative recontextualization, opposition and scale.
“Some are more intuitive than others,” he admits. “The most basic, positive repetition, simply means that the unit is repeated in a similar form with the same purpose. As with all patterns, the repeated unit can be composed of any information available to the human brain, whether an entity, action or property. Then there’s opposition, in which we take the unit and turn it against itself, such as can be seen in a mirror image or if we turn an arrow back to point in the other direction, producing a pattern of symmetry. However, while all the patterns are relatively simple in structure the activity of some forms of translation and recontextualization can seem counter-intuitive at first sight. In instances of humour these patterns may be recognized individually or in any possible combination of the eight. Most instances are founded on one or two, although theoretically there is no limit to the number of patterns a person has recognized when they find something funny. Pattern recognition remains a subjective matter, just like any other perception.”
No wonder so many writers/comedians resort to stealing their gags. Or puns.
[21/03/09] Camera Obscura
Added a new page to the site this morning, featuring a snazzy new slideshow of Photographic Diversions from around the World for the Entertainment and Education of Ladies and Gentlemen. Or snapshots, for short. Some pretty, some funny, some weird, and mostly very poorly taken, but never mind. I never claimed to be a photographer.
As far as equipment goes, they run from my original point-and-shoot handicam to current Nikon D90. I’m getting better at things like post-processing, but it’s a learning curve - as is learning the Curves tool. I plan to swap images out and add new ones on a semi-regular basis, although for the most part I’m guessing they’ll appear as part of a blog post first. Roll over the images to see the title and caption, or browse the thumbnails as easily as passing your mouse across them. The Flash is SlideShowPro, which has come on so far since I last looked at it, it’s just not funny. The ability to set part of the image as the focus, and thus no longer have to resize everything to the right ratio, is an absolute life-saver. Okay, technically, a time-saver. But a welcome one…
As for why, it’s simple. My Pro account on Flickr is coming to an end very soon, and I don’t think I’ll be reactivating it - not because Flickr isn’t fun, but because I prefer Smugmug (referral code jGlJIsMiddHfw, cough cough). Having my albums private gets rid of the problem of what to make public and what to keep to myself, and its interface is much cooler than Flickr’s, especially if you’ve got a widescreen monitor.
The name is silly, but the service itself is terrific, and I’m bored of having to keep it and Flickr in sync. Not to mention the fact that keeping photos private means an immediate end to those insufferable pyramid scheme comments you get all the time - the “Wow! This picture wins a Badly Drawn Ribbon Award! Tag it ‘plantsintoilets’ or I kill this kitten!” badges that make me want to throw heavy objects at people. Brr. A pox upon them. One involving boils. And phlegm. Lots of lovely phlegm.
Photography is a fun hobby. One day, I look forward to trying something new that doesn’t end up costing me a fortune on equipment. Collecting gravel, maybe.
[15/03/09] The Nameless Mod
“Is there anything in this city which does NOT have some secret complex in the basement?”
“I doubt it. Everyone here is a Deus Ex fan, remember.”
Before we go any further, let me say this: The Nameless Mod is one of the best mods I’ve ever played. No question. I can’t think of many that have impressed me more, and very few that I’d actually put on the same pedestal. I have some quibbles, but it’s a phenomenal achievement. Download it now if you own Deus Ex.
If you take only one thing from this rambling screed, take this: I enjoyed it about ten times more than Invisible War, and that’s not me damning it with faint praise. It took seven years for the team to make it, and believe me, it shows.
“My city. My forum. My god, this mod’s actually out?”
[11/03/09] PC Plus: World of Wordcraft
Guess what game I was playing a lot of that month.
This was a fun article to write, even if I’m sure there’ll be at least one folk-etymology in there. I also managed to sneak in quite a few gags, which was a refreshing change from the norm. I love words (and highly recommend Bill Bryson’s books on the subject, especially Made In America) and it’s always good to know obscure little things that will trip you up in techie quizzes, such as where the word TWAIN actually comes from (it’s not an acronym) or the definition of ‘recursion’.
In retrospect, we should have left more space for the actual article part that runs along the bottom. When we planned out the page designs, we weren’t sure there’d be enough interesting stuff to say, but in the end it had to be cut down from about twice the length. It amuses me that while both ‘geek’ and ‘nerd’ are often seen as interchangeable, they in fact stem from completely opposite ends of some imaginary freak-curve. Still, no matter. I think it’s quite a fun little feature.