Shoutout to all those people who click the $0 option in “Pay What You Want” items.

You have NO idea what goes into doing the thing.

[Or you’re completely broke, in which case, I forgive you]

Star Trek: Into Darkness - One Dork’s Opinion

Massive spoilers for the movie under the cut.

Keep reading

Sic Transit Gloria Mundi

[Thus go the way of all things, for those who know less Latin than I]

My lunchbox Mac Mini up and died an entire year before its expected expiry date, and now all my fictions are locked up safely in a portable drive until such time as it can be connected to a computer that can handle it.

I’m starting to get really, really pissed off at Apple. $2K minimum for a computer that works fabulously… but when it dies it DIES, and lasts like a meringue umbrella 9_9

Do the Monitor-Macs last longer than the lunchboxes? Am I in a cardboard boots situation by repeatedly getting something that’s destined to fail and [IMHO] overpriced at that life expectancy?

Or can I just blame Captain Useless for repeatedly turning off the AC and allowing my poor, dead, machine to perish from overheating?

Or am I just an old fart who remembers when computers were a lot less frail?

Anyway, since my main computer is down, the fic you saw yesterday is the last fic I’m going to post for a while. Sorry about that. The best laid plans of mice, men and InterNutters gang aft agley.

What you can do about it is share my works with your friends, find peeps willing to pay for their own copies of same, and otherwise generate income so I can buttonhole a Macspert about value and longevity vis a vis their product and then purchase something with a lifespan not measured in months, minutes or microseconds.

What I’m doing about it is working harder on my trilogy in the hopes that this actually generates a real income and I won’t have to bitch about disposable computers ever again.

Not that I’m planning on buying any more of those suckers.

And I will still be doing instants until something stops me. One a day.

Plus, if anyone wants to work with me on Misfits, Flotsam or X-Wars, I will give you the link the instant I figure out how to get Google Drive working on displaying my fics again.

…yeah, I have bad luck with technology. The Google Drive thing is probably an auto-login problem, because somehow I’ve wound up with three different Google+ accounts… And possibly a fourth linked to Facebook. Which I hardly ever use now.

TLDR: My compy died, I have backups, and everything is SNAFU’d to shit. Monetary help is appreciated, but not necessary. I have ways of fighting back.

The ficcage will return. Sometime. Eventually.

AIGH!

sexuallycanadian:

I AM GOING TO PUNCH SOMEONE

See? This is why we can’t have nice things.

Idiots like the WBC blaming everything on the homosexuals. Or telling us it was a message from God, saying -in essence- “you stop that Homo shit now”.

Jesus fucking Christ on a bicycle…

God did not send the bombs. The hands of a human made those bombs, and put those bombs there. Three people died. twenty-something more were hurt.

And, very possibly, the hands of a WBC member put those bombs there so WBC would have something to do or so they could get away from the house made of rainbows and win. But don’t take my word for it. I don’t know. I’d just love to see Fox News do backflips to try and justify the actions of a white, bible-thumping right-winger who swallowed all of the rage the media’s been pumping into him. But I digress…

God did not do this.

I’m pretty certain that if God wanted some people to know something, He would make the message a hell of a lot clearer. And He certainly would not put the word out via the likes of the WBC.

Shut up and go home WBC. Nobody likes you. Not even your mother.

(via the-gay-is-over9000)

Well, this sucks.

I got a court order today. Delivered into my hand. Specifically into the hand of [and I’m quoting the dude who was reading off a script] “the InterNutter who claims to have written a work entitled ‘Misfits’, lately to appear in Google Drive?”

It was a Cease and Desist from Little, Brown Books in general and Stephanie Meyer in particular.

Seems my fic bears an astonishing resemblance to Ms Meyer’s latest series to come out. Almost too astonishing. Reading between the lines of the fine print, my version would show the “professional’s” in a bad light.

Read: I’m too good, but not good enough to be published by these people.

Go figure.

I demanded a galley proof for evidence and I just got it.

Fucking bitch filed the serial numbers off my fanfic and added abusive undertones to the relationships.

Well, she’s in for a shock when she finds out there’s no “the end” yet. And good luck, because I still haven’t figured that out.

But you want to know the most insulting bit?

The serious line-has-been-crossed coup de grace of insult to injury?

Keep reading

Male Privilege in the Media: Hart of Dixie

I like entertainment as much as anyone else, but I’m afraid I’m getting very jaded. Possibly more so now than ever as I round the horn into middle age and everything available just looks increasingly like More of the Same.

I objected to Big Brother when it was new. To my eyes, reality television is neither reality nor television. Just like white chocolate is neither white nor chocolate.

Anyway, onwards to my actual point.

I have, until recently, been watching a show called Hart of Dixie. I thought it was going to be a medical drama based loosely on Doc Hollywood, a fish-out-of-water movie I happened to love.

But no.

About one in five episodes was actually about anything medical. And even then, it was mostly about Zoe Hart [I can almost hear the TV exec’s crowing about how clever they are, there], the alleged lead character, being put into situations that made her look like an idiot to the highly judgemental population of the fictional town of Bluebelle.

Props where props are due, they do actually have one platonic male-female relationship. Between the token black male, Mayor Levon Hayes, and the title ditz female lead, Zoe Hart.

But as the show goes on, I am increasingly less certain that this doesn’t smack of some variety of subliminal racism.

When we’re introduced to Zoe, she’s a capable go-getter with a Plan that goes awry because she has no bedside manner [exqueeze me? Would that excuse work on a male doctor?] and thus has to take the only other job available to her in the entirety of America [wat] a GP in a pissant whitebread southern town that almost qualifies for Village that Time Forgot.

And this is where Zoe Hart begins her slow descent into Neurotic High-Maintenance Bitchville. The stereotype to end all stereotypes. Because you, apparently, aren’t a Real Woman™ unless you got yourself a MAN to lust after.

So, in order to put Zoe in her place, something that happens a lot in every single episode, she’s physically humiliated, intimidated [if the pet gator counts] talked down to, ostracised, and makes an enemy of the town’s chief allegedly-Real-Woman™ Lemon Breelan.

Lemon herself is a study in neurotic femininity, but we’re expected to let it slide because her mother left and she’s tying herself in knots to placate the eager-to-gossip-horde of Bluebelle. Her neuroses are allegedly okay because she’s at least trying to be a proper woman […as opposed to an ice-cream woman?] and keep hold of her MAN by a series of increasingly passive-aggressive ploys that, no shock to me, completely turned him off the whole deal.

This is all supposed to be because of Zoe Hart and her increasingly voluminous set of neuroses and barely concealed lust for a white cis-MAN who actually knows what a latte is in this one-horse town.

Seriously, that’s all he’s got going for him. He knows City-slicker talk and Zoe can talk to him without having to explain every third word.

Then there’s Zoe’s neighbour, who’s name I have honestly forgotten. Calling his character a cardboard cut-out would be an insult to cardboard because that stuff has actual depth. But we’re supposed to feel sorry for him because he has an alcoholic daddy who climbs up on roofs and threatens suicide about twice a season.

This guy is the epitome of white cis-male privilege. He walks around like the world owes him a favour and insults women so that they’ll have sex with him. Read that again: He insults women into having sex with him.

And if he wants another round? All he has to do is insult their technique and bam! Instant score.

I think his name is Wade… Correct me if I’m wrong. This is a man who drifts aimlessly between Nowhere and Losertown and somehow expects a mix of unmitigated misogyny, stereotypical insults, and overall I-wouldn’t-want-you-if-you-were-dipped-in-chocolate attitude to have the ladies queueing up to prove they’re decent in the sack.

And it works.

The remaining characters of Bluebelle hardly get a mention, any more. Not the Token Asian. Not the Token Black Gay [Ooo! Look! We’re progressive and edgy! Not]. And most definitely not the Token Nerd Girl who almost had herself a role model with Zoe Hart.

Nope.

We’re supposed to accept the new Token Black Female Go-Getter who only exists to contrast how needy and neurotic both Zoe and Lemon have become over the space of one whole season. Now season two is possibly going to have this new lady compete with both Zoe and Lemon for a man that at least Zoe had no previous interest in, the oh-so-wonderful mayor. Meanwhile, said female go-getter with her own cosmetics line [her sole point of interest, since it’s been mentioned three times in one episode] is going to be slowly transformed into a neurotic ball of passive-aggressive whiny need by none other than self-appointed God’s-gift-to-women, Wade.

And that’s why I’m not watching, any more.

It’s failing the Bechdel test [Put any two women together and they’re going to talk about MEN], it’s failing the Strong Character test [Are any of these people going to surprise me and do something intelligent?] and it’s failing to hold my interest because I can accurately predict an entire episode.

Once I can accurately predict an entire episode, [and not in the fun way, which generally involves predicting dead bodies, or nailing the next line] it ceases becoming enjoyable and starts getting depressing.

I do not watch TV to get depressed. I can do that just fine in Real Life.

So give me a show where a strong female lead knows what she wants and doesn’t need a MAN, and can successfully hold a platonic relationship with every gender [there’s more than two!], and IF they get involved with anyone on a sexual level, it’s a relationship where they’re a fucking TEAM… or just GTFO.

Thankyou, and good night.

Another rant for another time #5: Climate change, not global warming

To everyone who says, “So much for global warming,” every time they so much as glimpse a frigging snowflake:

THE IGNORANT MEDIA COINED THE TERM ‘GLOBAL WARMING’ AND NOT THE SCIENTIFIC COMMUNITY!

Aaaah. Got that off my chest.

Scientists never actually called it “global warming” unless they were talking down to some media presenter. We all know media presenters, especially the American ones. They have the mean IQ of an concussed lemming. And I’m only saying that much because Oprah’s around.

And once a media gets hold of an idea, you need a prybar to get it loose.

At least, lately, we’re getting them to mention 'global warming’ and 'climate change’ in the same breath. But, we’re still going to have to face people of the concussed lemming field who won’t let go of the original meme for fear of never being able to pick up another one again.

You pretty much have to deal with these idiots like you deal with a kindergartener who’s said a completely backwards statement.

“That’s right, [Concussed Lemming Spokesperson], global warming leads to climate change, which means more extreme temperatures in both winter and summer! I hope your house is insulated, because you’re going to need it, this year!”

Another rant for another time #4: Toxic media industry

Most folks know about the toxic fashion industry. And the unattainable, photoshopped “beauty” in most, if not all, ladies’ magazines. It’s a big thing.

Well, porn is toxic, too. It just doesn’t get talked about because it mentions male floppy bits instead of ladies’ floppy bits. Nobody wants to mention that filth. Euw!

Except for me, because I’m a certified weirdo.

Porn almost exclusively relies on fantasy. The ladies are all attractive. The men are all fabulous. There is not a pube or armpit hair in sight [unless someone out there knows more than I know?] and the -ah- key performances are cleverly cut to go on for ages.

It’s a fantasy, right? People know it isn’t real, right?

Wrong.

It’s been proven that self-image is linked to the images of others we choose to observe, or are forced upon us. It works on ladies, and men do not have such vastly different brains that they’re immune.

True, there’s not much market for fat, hairy people porn, but just remember rule#34. You can freaking make a market.

People have been taught to expect what they see. If they see inflated, impossible, re-touched gods getting laid, they only expect the most perfect to actually get sex.

Worse, because the fantasy of porn involves willing women offering their bodies left, right, centre, upside-down and any direction you can dream up [rule#34], there’s also an unrealistic causal chain between meeting someone attractive and getting sex.

Otherwise, every unlaid man out there would be applying for a job delivering pizzas.

A combination of low self-esteem and high expectations can ruin anyone.

It’s high time for some friggin’ standards all the way across the board. From porn to legitimate theatre and all the echelons in-between.

Another rant for another time #3: Overpopulation and the food crisis

I keep coming back to a webcomic I found where one of the characters says to a child, “There’s enough room in Texas for everyone in the whole world.” [Quote from memory, may not be verbatim]

It bothers me.

A lot.

Five seconds on Google reveals that the surface area of Texas is 261 914 square miles. That’s 6.78354146x10^11 square meters. About 67 835 414 600 if you want to take it long-form.

Given that the current population is well in excess of seven billion people, by now - that’s 7x10^9 or 7 000 000 000 - this is currently true, but it doesn’t leave a lot of breathing space for anything else. Everyone gets about 9.6 square meters to live in that’s theirs and theirs alone.

Think about that. We currently think it’s inhumane to keep two people in a space little smaller than that. Could you stand living in the equivalent of an American prison cell?

I could, if it was catered. If I had to grow my own food in that much space, I would be screwed, and so would everyone else. I have the advantage of an imagination. I can take my mind away into better places.

But get this. The global birth rate is 19.4 births per thousand population. For every thousand people mentioned above, add nineteen. That’s 133 000 000 or more [very likely more] people before 2013. One hundred and thirty-three million.

So now the question becomes this: Could you live in an American prison cell that also featured walls that closed in on you every time someone else popped out a kid?

I’m certain nobody could.

There’s only so much arable land in the world. We happen to build our houses on lots of it. Of that arable land, lots of it is in trouble because of climate change.

That’s “climate change” not “global warming”. Get it right.

Crops are failing. Stockpiles previously set aside to see us through a disaster are literally being chewed through to sustain people’s disbelief that there actually is a disaster in progress.

And even more criminal from a survival standpoint: America wastes almost half of the food it purchases.

America also pays its farmers to not grow food.

This is, frankly, fucking insane.

Starving people all over the world plus an intense desire to be seen as the hero, equals paying farmers to not farm? Wat?

Of course, the above formula only fails to work if the US is completely unaware and uncaring about the rest of the world.

…oh, wait…

Ahem.

Now that I have the secret service bugging my house… I have pretty much established that the whole world is about to pop. Unless we all decide to move to Texas and turn our former cities into farmland so we can all actually eat a meal. Half of which the Americans will apparently attempt to throw down the can.

I don’t think we’re going to go for the “Texas solution”.

So we need to do something else. America can start by paying farmers to grow stuff and then giving the stuff they don’t want to eat [almost half, remember?] to the starving countries who currently don’t think very highly of America.

It would be an instant PR boost.

As far as controlling the population is concerned… how do you all feel about chastity belts for misogynistic arseholes who tell rape jokes or use terms like “legitimate rape” or, “she was asking for it”?

Another rant for another time #1: Repentance vs Religion

I made a promise and I’m that honest that I have to at least try to see it through. All grist for the thing-a-day. I will make a concerted effort to stay on topic, because otherwise this theme could last me the rest of my life.

Stand back. I’m about to get outspoken.

Here’s a bombshell for you. You do not have to be religious to repent.

Amazing.

I know, I know. The word “repent” is usually mnemonically linked to YHWH-flavoured evangelists and you know in just a few moment’s they’re going to miraculously relieve you of the contents of your wallet, your bank account, and possibly your house.

Repent is not a religious word. It’s frequently used as one, but it’s not owned by any faith at all.

Look:

re*pent(1) [ri-pent] verb (used without object) 1. to feel sorry, self-reproachful, or contrite for past conduct; regret or be conscience-stricken about a past action, attitude, etc. (often followed by of): He repented after his thoughtless act.

It’s only in the secondary definition that the concept of sin is mentioned. Pretty much every faith on the planet uses the concept of sin. I know atheists tend to avoid the words “repent” and “sin” because of the faith-related connotations.

Really, a sin is something you or society thinks is almost unforgivably wrong. Note the use of the word “almost”. You can be forgiven if you are sufficiently repentant.

Which means you pretty much hate yourself for what you’ve done, you never do it again - or at least try your hardest to avoid the temptation to repeat the mistake - and you put a determined effort into doing better.

Harder than it sounds. Ask all the people who’ve had to call their sponsors in AA.

Anyway, I’m drifting off topic. You don’t have to be religious to make a decision like that. In fact, such a decision is even more admirable without the concept of a higher power watching your every move, because the decider did so entirely on their own.

And when you think about that, that’s pretty darn huge.

You can be a charitable atheist. Just like you can be an arsehole christian [or insert your chosen faith here]. And I’m moderately certain there’s just as many of the former as there are of the latter.

We all choose how we act.

So take a good look at yourself and repent.