For all you raging Dirt Worshippersr there is Vegan Erotica. They claim that it is aimed at anyone who wants to be a compassionate purchaser. But the real truth is that only people who want animals to be cuddly and not useful will buy this stuff, that among other weird people looking to try out new things I guess. I’ll refrain from my VEGAN RANT. You know who you are out there, and you are missing some brain cells.
Friday night, Laura and I went to Apple’s “100 Minutes of Jaguar” release party at Lenox Mall. We anticipated about 80 people being there. When we got there at about 10:15, there were about 1000 people lined up throughout the top floor of the mall, almost all of them waiting to get their copy of Mac OS 10.2. Rather than getting in line, we decided to just sit and watch for a little while. When we left at 11PM, more people were showing up.
Check out the write-up on CoolMacintosh, and if you look carefully at this picture, you can see my head poking up above a tree in the center right.
If you had a Firewire-capable system, wouldn’t you like to have a Super DriveDock: a very small block with an IDE connector on one side, Firewire and power on the other side. For a quick data-dump, slap the DriveDock onto a drive, plug in your Firewire cable, and copy files at 35MB/s.
“It’s time. You don’t get a second chance.”
I could hear the clickety clickety tapping of the witch’s fingernails on the glass windowpane. Below her was a long empty drop to the pavement. Above her was the moon.
“I like my life. I’ve got a great apartment. I date. My furniture matches.”
The witch cocked her head like some predatory bird. Her slick black eyes, filled with stars and sliding reflections of the neighboring apartments, did not reflect my image. Her terrifying and beautiful face smiled with some pity for me.
“You’ve always wanted this. You’ve always dreamed that something interesting would happen to you. The books you read, the movies you watch, the dreams you dream, all involve something interesting happening to someone else. Now it’s your turn. You would forego this chance for mundanity?”
I looked back into my apartment. I touched the fabric of the couch. I looked at the photo of my sister on the end table. I opened the glass door and climbed up onto the ledge. I grasped the witch’s smooth, cold, naked arm, and jumped into the night.
My mother works in histology at a city hospital. She enjoys telling me terrible and gruesome tales of the things that happen at her work:
“We had a poor old girl die from an intercranial bleed-on at 9:15 wednesday night. She was an organ donor so they took her to surgery immediately afterward and took out her organs and her bones.
“At 3:00 PM on Thursday, Administration called me to see where the body was. We didn’t know there was a body in the morgue. I went back to the morgue and there she was: lying out in the room, no fridge, just flat (no bones), wrapped in paper, like a roast.
“I called her family, and her brother said the “county” was on the way to pick up the body so the morgue workers left the body out so the county workers could sign and get it.
“At 1:00 PM on Saturday, Administration called me. The woman’s brother had just called to tell Administration that the funeral home would be out later to get the body.
“I went back to the morgue, and sure enough, there in the same place, not refrigerated, is this flattened, two-day-old dead woman still laying there on the slab.
“By now she had rigor mortis, but of course she had no bones so she couldn’t poke up too much.
“Stuff was seeping out of her eyes because the eye bank had taken her corneas, and stuff was oozing out of her mouth, filling up the paper around her head.
“It was gruesome, but it’s also sad. Just think: this woman had donated her organs and tissue, doing the one last good thing she could do on earth, but once Surgery harvested them, they shoved her body aside.
“It’s really disrespectful.
“I called Administration, and they made Surgery get back in there and put the woman’s body in the fridge until the funeral home arrived.”
Testing with mozilla.
