Tumbl Young Man Tumbl

In Which I Am Mad At My Central Nervous System

Mon, 21 Nov 2011 19:37:00 -0500

Oh-ho! Looks like someone just got their copy of Skyward Sword! I bet you can’t wait to play it, huh? Look at it—sitting there all golden and shiny. Man.

Here’s the thing though, you useless brain: you can’t play it. No. Because you’re going to write something first. Anything. You can’t play it because you have spent two days listlessly sloshing around in my skull, while I have been trying to write down some stuff that I know you already know. You have been wasting my time, brain, and now I intend to waste yours. And you need me, if you expect to swash any goddamned buckles tonight.

So! How about this, huh? Just you and me; one on one. Mano-a-neuro. Locked in a staring contest. Or I guess, like, an optic nerve tug o’ war or something. I notice you’re still not doing me any favors here, word-wise. Fine, I guess “mano-a-neuro” was pretty good. Still.

Bottom line: you got lazy. You churn out a mediocre sub-140 sound bite every so often, slip it under the door when I’m not even paying attention, and go back to humming songs from Mega Man 2 for hours at a stretch. But, oh, you see these suckers right here? Paragraphs. And you hate them—oh, how you hate them. I can tell. All this cohesion is just grating on you. Jesus, no, I don’t want a “I’m down with those PPs” joke. Will you please try to focus for five minutes? This is exactly what I’m talking about.

Let me tell you how it’s gonna go down here, friendo. We’re gonna keep doing this. Yes. This is going to keep on happening—maybe daily—until you pull your act together. I’m not sorry in the least. The deal is: you suck it up, and I keep the caffeine coming. No negotiations, no bargaining. Now let’s go save some princesses already; Christ.

In Which I Rap Battle @ajpiano

Fri, 12 Aug 2011 16:19:00 -0400

Wilto

But let’s stop this—try a topic with less awfulness.
It’s @Wilto from Twitter, threatnin’ to punch your esophagus.
Arguing semantics and trollin’ on all the haters.
Droppin’ the dopest stylistics—all of the rest r alligators.
[OH!]
Oh snao™.
Thought that I was finished? I’m back; look at me now.
Writin’ these baffling lyrics and hittin’ on every mark.
Drunken killing machine—call me the blonde Tony Stark.
So you’re runnin’ a diff against me? Here comes the ?boom:
Did you are unimpressed now?
⇐ Wilto just left the room.

AJPiano

ya lil wilto, i heard ya whack rhymes
they make me say WAT over 9000 times!
cause WAT’s what we say when you show your man-( . )
Aamir down to yonky, we all know ur noob.
me, how i roll? i’m the champ, got the chops
don’t step to me bro, cause you know i got ops
so check yaself soon, don’t say yain’t been warned
or ya momma find out just how babby is formed

Wilto

Hold the phone; stop the press; break the loop, ‘cause (→Wilto joined)
Heard some chump in -ot needs roasting like a sirloin.
Play a sad song, Piano—think your Ops can save you now?
Hate to break it to you buddy: I’m straight cuttin’ you off the cow.
You’re sizzlin’ in the pan, already halfway cooked to done.
About to get served-up by this vegetarian.
So none for me though, it’s cool, no thanks.
Lil’ Wil’, not Lil’ Wayne—don’t eat rappers, just kick flanks.

AJPiano

compare me to meat? i must say, i’m impressed!
cause i’m lean and i’m fresh, pretty much i’m the best
don’t need chanserv or nickserv to do none of my biddin’
got something to show ya right where ya sittin’
it’s kinda like steak, but it’s more like a sausage
it’s gone ta close dis battle out just like mothafuckin’ Goose Gossage
so without further delay, what i want you to see
is the mighty wrath of my 8 equals equals D

Wilto

You booked a trip through the meat grinder? Alright.
So you’re getting ground up, while my flows stay air-tight?
You’re feeling the squeeze while I’m squeezing on— Well:
Go ahead and assume; I don’t like to kiss and tell.
Seems all your tactics are lacking while I’m attacking these rhymes.
Hit the Basecamp tab—you just clocked killable time.

Audio

Fri, 29 Apr 2011 12:25:00 -0400

Audio

Wed, 30 Mar 2011 14:07:00 -0400

In Which I am Married to the Sea

Wed, 16 Mar 2011 21:36:00 -0400

The following is an excerpt from an email chain about an upcoming canoeing trip:

I won’t beat around the bush here, men: I will not be an easy Captain to serve under. I will do little-to-no work. I will drink most-to-all of the beer. I will bark commands constantly, some of which may or may not be vaguely nautical-sounding nonsense such as “buttress the keel-jibber.” Be assured that if I cannot seek to commandeer and/or overturn the boats of my enemies—and know that all those not in my boat will be regarded as such—I will likely seek to destroy my own in some way. I do this because it amuses me, and to serve under my command is to prepare to surrender one’s very life for the sake of said amusement, no matter how fleeting it may be.

There is no “however,” here—no promise of riches or glory. What I am saying is that I will get drunk and attempt to drown you all. But one of you has the chance to be with me in this endeavor, while the remainder must stand squarely against me. The choice, men, is yours.

(Disclaimer: I will likely attempt to drown the person who is “with me,” as well.)

- Wilto

"I’m just tryin’ to stay above water, y’know? Just stay busy, stay workin’… Puff told me like,..."

Mon, 14 Feb 2011 14:27:00 -0500

“I’m just tryin’ to stay above water, y’know? Just stay busy, stay workin’… Puff told me like, the key to this joint—the key to staying on top of things is to treat everything like it’s your first project, knah’msayin’? Like it’s your first day, like how it was when you was an intern. That’s how you try to treat things. Like—just stay hungry.”

- Notorious BIG

Thu, 03 Feb 2011 12:11:00 -0500

In Which I Am Irrationally Upset About Tapas

Sat, 11 Dec 2010 00:11:00 -0500

Wilto: It cannot compete with Razzy’s.
Kassie: Not for atmosphere, no.
Wilto: Nor affordability. Nor popcorn quality.
Kassie: There is no popcorn. One place gives out free tapas.
Wilto: Ridiculous. I don't want a stupid bowl of tiny potatoes with my beer. I want popcorn smothered in weird powdered chemicals.
Kassie: …
Wilto: “Tapas are dumb,” is what I’m getting at.
Kassie: Tapas are delicious.
Wilto: “Tapas is?”
Kassie: Good question.
Wilto: Is “tapas” the concept of stupid tiny potatoes—is it the goddamned philosophy of unsatisfying food portions? Or can I order one… Tapas? A tapa? Like, “I’ll just have a single tapa, please. I filled up on other molecules on my way over.”
Kassie: It’s a bunch of appetizers.
Wilto: So basically “tapas” is a lifestyle choice wherein one brings me irritating amounts of food.
Kassie: Also, patatas bravas are delicious.
Wilto: Holy Christ what is that even. “Brief potatoes?” That sounds like tapas, alright: “enjoy this three gram serving of baked potato, for it is fleeting.”
Kassie: They are potatoes with spicy sauce.
Wilto: Well I hate them.
Kassie: Good, more for me.

JS Comment Trick

Wed, 17 Nov 2010 16:10:00 -0500

I learned this trick at this year’s jQuery Conference—it’s a quick toggle for commenting out blocks of code, by adding a single forward slash.

This runs as usual:

//*/
	$('input').value('boston, ma');
	$('form').trigger('submit');
//*/

This comments out the block of code:

/*/
	$('input').value('boston, ma');
	$('form').trigger('submit');
//*/

It’s handy for switching a test process on and off.

"I like to drink before I go to sleep, drink a lot of coffee before I go to sleep, so that I can..."

Fri, 06 Aug 2010 00:25:52 -0400

““I like to drink before I go to sleep, drink a lot of coffee before I go to sleep, so that I can dream fast. I can dream, like when they put a camera on the Indy 500, when they put a camera in the car, and it’s just whipping by like that, dream after dream after dream after dream.””

- Steven Wright, Coffee and Cigarettes

"My mind rebels at stagnation. Give me problems, give me work, give me the most abstruse cryptogram,..."

Wed, 14 Jul 2010 23:20:44 -0400

“My mind rebels at stagnation. Give me problems, give me work, give me the most abstruse cryptogram, or the most intricate analysis, and I am in my own proper atmosphere. I can dispense then with artificial stimulants. But I abhor the dull routine of existence. I crave for mental exaltation.”

- Sherlock Holmes

It’s the honky tonk women. Give me, give me, give me the...

Sun, 11 Jul 2010 23:29:00 -0400

It’s the honky tonk women.
Give me, give me, give me the honky tonk blues.

"Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding. It is the bitter potion..."

Wed, 30 Jun 2010 16:03:34 -0400

“Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding. It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self. […] Therefore, trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquillity.”

- Kahlil Gibran

The Eldritch Nightmare of and

Thu, 24 Jun 2010 13:52:00 -0400
Jess: what happens if you open with and close with ?
Wilto: You will awake that night to a dull scraping sound, growing ever louder. A widening crack will appear in your wall, from which inky black tendrils will lash out at you—from which I will emerge, my face twisted in pain, suspended like a lurching, seizing marionette. Your screams will fall upon deaf ears, for I am possessed of a madness that is not my own—I have become a vehicle of dark retribution, stripped of any trace of the humanity I once had. You have played at God, Jess, and there is a penance to be paid.

Dan Marquis

Mon, 14 Jun 2010 14:04:00 -0400

There’s a paternally inherited know-it-all gene passed down through the entire Marquis family line. If there’s something to be done, there is no possible way it would be done to our exacting standards if we were to let someone else do it. You get two such people staring down the barrels of power tools at something that needs doing, it ends poorly. My old man and I rarely went more than a few weeks without a shouting match. He and his father were the same way. We are a completely insufferable people.

During his last few days, my father was only able to communicate through vague gestures—eye movement, a blink, a nudged finger. A few minutes into what would turn out to be our final conversation, I realize that he’s using the communication methods we’d worked out to argue with me.

I start laughing and crying in equal parts. “Really? You’re gonna pick a fight with me now? I’ll go get a screw gun and start taking stuff apart; what’re you gonna do, stop me?”

He grinned at me for the last time. With every ounce of strength left in his ruined body he lifted his hand from his lap, and he curled every finger but one.