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February, 2005

  1. It’s Spam-tastic!

    February 28, 2005 by Collin

    Yes, here I go again. My comments are in red. I hope you enjoy it.

    From: “BILL OWENS.”
    Date: February 17, 2005 11:47:51 AM MST
    To: me
    Subject: BILL OWENS.
    Reply-To: obills012@netscape.net

    Good day,
    Howdy stranger!
    As you read this, I don’t expect you to feel sorry for me because, I believe everyone will die someday.
    Why so glum, chum?
    My name is Bill Owens, a Real Estate developer in Toronto, Canada.
    Hi Bill! How’s Canada? Seen a moose yet? I hear they have them there.
    I have been diagnosed with lung cancer, which has defiled all forms of medical treatment, and right now I have only about a few months to live, according to medical experts.
    So Canada could be treating you better, eh? I’m sorry to hear that your cancer is defiling all those treatments. I hope it isn’t deflowering them as well.
    I have not particularly lived my life so well, as I never really cared for anyone (not even myself) but my business. Though I am very rich, I was never generous;
    I was always hostile to people and only focused on my business as that was the only thing I cared for.
    Correct me if I’m wrong, or mistaken here, but I have the impression that you only cared for your business. Is that right? And you should not be so hard on yourself, Bill. Nobody says that the rich need to also be generous. Just look at those French aristocrats back in 1789. They literally walked all over people and it never came back to haunt them. Be proud of your riches Bill! Flaunt it! Rub it in the faces of the less deserving.
    Now I regret all this as I now know that there is more to life than just wanting to have or make all the money in the world.
    Do you now? Well, bless you Bill. That’s a wonderful thing to discover when you are literally months away from Death’s door. Forget what I said earlier. You go!
    I believe when God gives me a second chance to come to this world I would live my life a different way from how I have lived it.
    Mmmmm. Sorry to break it to you Bill, but God doesn’t allow return trips. Nosir. You have a one way ticket to your final destination and they’ve lost your luggage. But hey! You’ve got a couple months to turn it all around! Now if only there were a way… If only!
    Now that God has called me, I have willed and given most of my properties and assets to my immediate and extended family members as well as a few close friends.
    Not quite what I was thinking of Bill. You might want to rethink that. Odds are it was your friends and family that gave you the cancer. Had you thought of that? Well you should! It’s widely known that they are a leading cause. Worse than cigarettes and Canada. Combined!
    I ask God to be merciful to me and accept my soul so; I have decided to give alms to charity organizations, as I want this to be one of the last good deeds I do on earth.
    I dunno. Charities are all well and good, but really. What can they possibly do with large sums of money? They would likely just fritter it away on hookers and crippled orphans. Where’s the point in that. Think harder Bill!
    So far, I have distributed money to some charity organizations in Ethiopia, Haiti and Bosnia.
    Dammit Bill! Slow down buddy!
    Now that my health has deteriorated so badly, I cannot do this myself anymore.
    See? You’ve gone and tuckered yourself out. I warned you. Now how are you going to disburse your money Bill?! HOW!?!
    I once asked members of my family to close one of my accounts and distribute the money, which I have there to charity organizations in Sudan and to The Red Cross; they refused and kept the money to themselves.
    See Bill, not only do they cause cancer but they are greedy pricks as well. Too bad you don’t have a friend like me. I’m honest to a fault.
    Hence, I do not trust them anymore, as they seem not to be contended with what I have left for them.
    See? Pricks. But to be fair Bill, it’s tough to be contended. Wait. What am I saying?! Screw “fair!” Kill them all Bill. You only have a couple months left and they are likely to scatter like cockroaches once the whacking starts. You need to be quick and ruthless! And in your final days you need to set up a hitman trust fund to weed out any that escaped. Possibly rent out a building and advertise it as “Free Booty for the distant relatives of Bill Owens” and then have them capped as the cross the threshold. Just think about it. Not only will you rid the world of your greedy family, but you’ll also be fighting cancer. It will please God, Bill. You want to please God don’t you? You better want to.
    The last of my money that no one knows about is the huge cash deposit of Eighteen Million US dollars (US$18,000,000.00) that I have with a deposit company abroad.
    No one? You mean the only two people who know about it are you and me Bill? Seriously? But… But… why are you telling me this Bill? Why are you telling poor, honest little me about this large, written out and numbered, round sum of money that you have stored in an abroad deposit company rather than, oh, a bank?
    Acknowledge this message so that I can introduce you to my lawyer who will handle the transfer of receivership by you of the said funds.
    Okay! You bet’cha! umm… wait a minute Bill. I thought only you and I knew about this money. Are you trying to cross me Bill? I’m mean and vindictive when crossed. I’ll make your final months a living Hell.
    I will want you to help me collect this deposit and dispatched it to charity organizations.
    Well, okay then. As long as it’s what YOU want Bill, you can trust me! I’ll be sure it’s all dispatched to the proper people in a timely manner.
    My lawyer shall put you in the picture of the funds, tell you where the funds are currently being maintained and also discuss modalities including remuneration for your services.
    That’s simply awesome Bill! I love being in fund pictures! I’m so glad that you chose ME out of all of the millions of people that you could have instead! It’s like God is guiding you Bill. Telling you that I can be trusted with this monumental task. And you can tell that it’s God because he’s not allowing you to realize that it would be far easier to have your lawyer, who is right there, handle the distribution of the money. I mean, sure, he knows all about that kind of thing, but he’s a lawyer! God knows they can’t be trusted. Far better to use an anonymous internet dweller that God has recommended. It’s the Hand of God, Bill. Don’t fight the Hand! When you are in God’s Hands, the last thing you want Him to have to do is clap to get your attention! That and visit the loo.
    For these reasons kindly furnish your
    Contact information, that is your full names, personal telephone and fax number for confidential purpose.
    They call me Ishmael, Bill. I live on the sea. I have no phone, no lights, no motor car, not a single luxury. No fax either. I’ve been floating out here for a thousand years and I recently discovered that if I stick a wire into my skull at one special spot I can log onto the internet for free! Can you believe it?! And if you’ll send me your contact information, that is your full names, personal telephone and fax number and a bank check for Eighteen Million US dollars (US$18,000,000.00) I’ll tell you the secret.
    God be with you and your family.
    And may the Force be with YOU, Bill. Always. Or the next couple of months or so at least.
    Note I will prefer you contact me with my private email address, which is owenb012@netscape.net
    BILL OWENS.


  2. Watch This Flash Video!

    February 28, 2005 by Collin


    Seriously. I received a link to this in an email from my friend Justin C. It is the most creative and well done Flash movie/music video I’ve seen yet. If you are using Firefox you can save the movie by saving the page. You can later view the .swf file using iSwiff on the Mac. Alternatively, I finally tracked down the standalone Flash player for the Macintosh that you can get here.


  3. CliparToon #20: It’s Monday again.

    February 28, 2005 by Collin

    Happy “Last day of February,” go taunt a monkey.


  4. "People I Hardly Remember"

    February 26, 2005 by Collin

    (cue inspiring drums and stuff)

    I’m going to try this out. I’m not aiming for funny with these. Anything funny is very likely unintentional. I’m going to dredge my shaky memory for people that I can dimly recall and talk about the impact they’ve had on my life. Some of them I wish I could remember more fully, others I would just as soon forget. Doesn’t that sound fun? Here we go:

    (more drums)(and stuff)

    When I was a wee tot (well, not THAT wee. I was 9.*) my mom took a job that required me to be put in a daycare situation. This would have been prior to my latchkey days, but not preferable. The woman in who’s care I was placed was large as I recall. And friendly when another adult was around.

    I remember one day, as I was waiting for my mother to come pick me up, this woman was sitting on the couch and crying. I asked her why she was so sad. She told me that “The King is dead.”

    I said, “what King?”

    She: “You know, Elvis. Don’t you know who Elvis is?”

    Me: “I think so. You must have loved him to be crying like that. Did you want to marry him?”

    She: “Oh yes. All women wanted to marry Elvis”

    Me: “Does your husband know?”

    She just laughed at that.

    She had a son near my age, perhaps a couple of years older but he spent the days at school (it was the year-round school I mentioned before, and he was in a different group than I was). The rest of the children she watched were at least two years younger than me. She would keep us in the basement. The cement floored, dimly lit, musty basement. There were toys there, mostly stuff that had been cast off from her son, and not enough to keep the kids from fighting over. I remember the rules were we had to stay in the basement (she locked the door) all day and STAY QUIET! Lunch was brought down and at some point during the day she would check diapers and change as needed. I and the other one or two bathroom dependent children would have to knock on the door when we had to go. If she felt that we were abusing this system we would have to hold it all day. So that was how I spent my days, locked in a stinky basement with around six smelly, fighting, crying children about half my age or younger with a growing fear of knocking on the door. That was my vacation from my year-round school.

    There was one girl who was 6 or 7 that came for awhile. She had a crush on me, but I was too old for her. In spite of our age difference, I really missed her when she stopped coming. There was another kid who had nasal problems. His nose would fill with snot that would harden into a plug if it wasn’t suctioned out regularly. I recall that at one point he had to be taken to the doctor to have the snot drilled out. In spite of this he was a pretty happy child. And there was one more that was walloped in the head with a block hard enough to send him to the hospital. After that, no more toys for awhile.

    My mom worked pretty late, as I recall, so I was nearly always the last to go home. It seemed to annoy the woman at times and I felt like she blamed me. There was one night where it was past dinnertime and she grudgingly fed me. I may be totally wrong, but I think her husband came home and was angry that I was still there.

    Eventually I got on her good side and she would let me spend time out of the basement and eat lunch at the table with her and her son. I became friends with her son mostly out of necessity. He was pretty much a spoiled prick, but it beat the alternative. All day long she would be planted on the sofa watching soap operas and game shows. Any time she had to deal with one of the children it would piss her off. Yes, she was a saint.

    One other person I remember from those days was a friend of the woman’s son. He was a quiet kid. He always had his right arm down his pants. When I asked the son why I found out the kid was missing the lower half of his arm, a few inches down from his elbow and that it embarrassed him. Eventually he showed me. It was a birth defect, so it didn’t just cut off. It sort of tapered down to a little nub and was pale and smelled a bit funny from being kept in his pants all the time. It was my first introduction to a physical abnormality. It bothered me that he felt embarrassed and I tried to convince him that he shouldn’t hide it all the time, but no dice. Of all the kids from those days I wonder what happened with him the most.

    I don’t remember why I stopped having to spend the day there, but whatever it was I’m sure I was grateful. I graduated to walking myself home, letting myself into the house, making a snack and then reading or whatever until my mom got home. It was quite nice and I didn’t get into too much trouble.


    *I know Heather, everything happened when I was 9. But this time I know it’s true because Elvis died August 16, 1977 and I was born in ’68. So finally, a memory that I KNOW I was 9 for.


  5. CliparToon #19: Math humour

    February 26, 2005 by Collin


  6. Fun with Spam

    February 24, 2005 by Collin

    I would say, judging from their expressions, they’re looking at girl-on-girl porn together on the ol’ laptop. Why? Because he looks quite pleased and she’s exhibiting disinterest mixed with curiosity and self loathing. Seriously, could they find another woman who looked like she wanted to be there any less than this one? I’m thinking no. Way to go, ad guys!

    I recall seeing someone write about “Cialis Soft Tabs” at their blog awhile back. I only remember it because it was revealed that “Cialis” is a erectile dysfunction drug and I pointed out that “Soft Tabs” is a stupid name for something that is supposed to make you hard.

    So.

    On to the text:

    Save up to 70% (70%)
    So are you saying that normally it’s that overpriced? Or will we (a very hypothetical “we”) be getting ours in an alley from a guy in a trench coat who sniffs a lot and twitches?

    No prescription required
    Yes. Those side-alley salesmen don’t usually worry about the paperwork that drug distribution normally requires. They’re flexible.

    You can mix alcohol drinks with these pills
    Is that a serving suggestion? A prank idea? A new date rape drug just for the ladies to even things up a bit?

    Acts up to 36hr. (36)
    “Dear God pleaaasssseeeee! Every time I roll over I wake up screaming! I’m so tired… so tired.”

    Effective for 95% of the patients
    You other 5% just give it up and put on a dress. Something frilly that brings out your eyes.

    Only 15 minutes till you feel the effect
    and then say “goodbye” to pants for the next 36 hours or so. Avoid drafts. And church.

    Moneyback guarantee
    “Sure buddy. I’ll hang around at least 15 minutes. I promise”

    Fast descreet delivery
    We use ninjas. In weenie hats. It makes them faster and sneakier. There isn’t a ninja on the payroll that would want to get caught in that hat.
    (oh, and no biggie, but you misspelled “discreet”)

    Worldwide shipping
    What can I say? There isn’t a corner of this world where there isn’t a man that needs a woody. And if he has a mailbox, by God, he’ll get one! In a week or so plus 15 minutes.


  7. CliparToon #18: My house is a mess.

    February 24, 2005 by Collin

    It’s a good thing I never decided to become a serial killer. I would have been caught in no time. And I feel too sick right now to be any funnier than that. How pathetic is that? Sorry. I do have a post in my drafts that I did yesterday that I recall being funny, so I’ll post that.

    Have a good, wait… make that a GREAT Thursday. You’ve earned it.


  8. What can I say?

    February 23, 2005 by Collin

    In spite of his evil tendencies, Derek is awesome. I was only kidding when I left him a comment that he needed to get cracking on my site’s theme song. Sure enough, he got cracking, and I really like the result. What do you think?

    (I’ve moved the theme song to below my header.)

    Thanks Derek!


  9. Is it just me?

    February 23, 2005 by Collin

    Is it just me or do you occasionally find yourself in the bathroom working hard at accomplishing Nature’s demands when it suddenly occurs to you that this is how Elvis died*? And since you are nowhere nearly as famous as Elvis was, once you are dead that’s it and if you’re remembered at all it won’t be for your music, art, or generosity but rather that you were that guy (or gal) who kicked it in the crapper and perhaps you might want to consider taking a breath and relaxing before something pops that shouldn’t? I really hope that isn’t just me.


    * Actually, I’m not sure if that was how Elvis died, I just recall it being said that he was found in the bathroom. One telling I heard, when it was rather fresh in the mind and I was rather young, had the additional details of “with his pants around his ankles, clutching a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken.” I’m reasonably sure that bit was a joke, but I can’t say it hasn’t made an impression on me. For once Wikipedia wasn’t much help. Although here under “How did Elvis die?” they say he was found in the bathroom with his pajama bottoms around his ankles. No mention of KFC though.


  10. CliparToon #17: I wonder if they moo.

    February 23, 2005 by Collin

    Despite appearances, I’m not in favor of actual baby tippin’. Although there was a time when Jordyn was very little (pre-walking age) when she would pull herself up in her baby bed and press her head against the mesh and smile at me. And then I would take my index finger, put it against her head and poke her lightly. She would fall over backwards, giggling, then roll over, crawl back up and we would do it again. She seemed to enjoy it.

    But “actual” baby tippin’, out in the wild, on the sidewalk: not nice. Shame on you Carol!