Archive for February, 2005

The MacStansbury.com Forum (again)

Published
by
John Stansbury
on February 25, 2005

I’ve come to the horrible realization that nobody ever listens to me. Don’t worry, I’ve come to accept it after years of not being listened to. It’s my lot in life.

But one thing I don’t do, is repeat myself. I say again, I do not repeat myself! So, I’ll show you what I wrote about a week ago:

As you all know, this is not really a blog. Some people have called it a blog, but it isn’t one. It’s not a blog.

To answer the questions that inevitably come up next, I’ve come up with some links and data to show just what’s what. Because this is not a blog. Cause it’s not.

This is a message board. Yes, I know it looks just like a blog, but it isn’t. It’s a message board.

When I was enjoying my summer vacation in 2003, I determined to make myself a message board, the likes had never been seen before! Then I looked at the old budget, and thought about a message board the likes had been seen before.

Needless to say, I’ve had this thing going for well over a year, and not until I made it look like a blog have I had any sort of traffic at all. So now I’ve got to get you people shuttled over to the only reason you’re here, The MacStansbury.com Forum!

Now I’ve set up a short film to explain the forum. Well, posting in the forum. NO SLEEPING!

Hmm. I thought that was going to be better.

But take a moment to waste a couple of hours in my finely crafted message board. Cause that’s the reason you’re here.

That, or you’re hoping I put up another picture of Britney Spears.

So you’re asking yourself, “why do you keep bringing this up, Johnny?” And my answer is that I spent the past couple of years learning what my place was in this great Universe. There’s great wisdom that I wish to share with the masses.

There’s but one problem with spreading the word of MacStansburiology: I have no budget, and no talent. Luckily, I have time, a decent high-speed connection, and my feeble brain, 34 or so slices of American cheese, and my never-ending need to make you laugh.

If you read the FAQ, you’ll see just a glimpse of what makes me tick. But mostly it’s just to get the conversation started. It’s people like you that are reading this now that are what keep the conversation going.

I’d like to thank the Six Apart folks for getting everybody on this whole blogging revolution. A few years ago, somebody asked me about this new thing called Movable Type, and how it was going to revolutionize the world. I saw it, and decided that it wasn’t for me, as I liked to control the situation. Back in the old days, there wasn’t a commenting system.

Then, around 2001, they introduced comments. You could now talk about, on the page, the story you just read. It was revolutionary. Now, not only could you read the story, you could give immediate feedback. Then people could hold a conversation about the common experience they were communicating.

What I found, in those sites from just a few years ago, was something that had been going on for years. AOL built itself with a specialized IRC system that allowed AOL members to talk to each other just by signing on and finding a topic that they were interested in. IRC, or Internet Relay Chat has been around since the days of the ARPANET, something else you can hone you Google skills on.

What made AOL the de facto internet service in the 1990s was something called Instant Messenger. Now you could hold a private, one on one chat session with any member. At the time, your service agreement allowed you 5 Free Hours a month, and 50¢ every hour after that. It’s obvious that Instant Messenger addicts were the cash cow of AOL.

However, companies like Earthlink were pushing for $19.95 unlimited monthly internet access. With this, some of the old-timers (like me) were now able to use chat on any IRC client (like in the old days) for free, and save tons of cash. When AOL started capitulating by giving more hours away (10, then 15), the writing was on the wall. They finally went to a monthly unlimited service, and, for reasons that escape me TO THIS DAY, they made Instant Messenger free for everybody.

Even though AOL is yet to catch up to it’s former glory and market share, the impact of AOL use was apparent. People now expected to have their own free web site. They expect to meet people online. They expect email fun. Boy, were they in for it.

Spam, in all it’s glory. Spyware. Viruses. All good things that we have to deal with. They make it all seem so troublesome to even get on the internet these days. However, there’s a whole culture that thrives here, on the internet.

I began being a serious message board junkie in 1999, when I was all over the Surfboard over at the MacSurfShop.com. I think I killed a server posting so many times. I vowed that I would someday have a board of my own.

But in the wild wild internet boom, they didn’t believe in giving out domain names to just anyone. It cost about $135 to register a personal domain name, and college kids just don’t have that kind of scratch. The dream would have to wait.

Fast forward to 2003, and a kid born in Alcoa, Tennessee is trying to figure out what to do with the gazillions of dollars he earned on his summer job. One thing he thought about was that message board that he always wanted. But that seemed kind of dull. There needed to be something else.

As he was playing on his brand-spankin new G5, looking at how these Content Management Systems had grown in power and ability since he last looked at them years ago. Long story short, he got one himself.

And as his skill with CSS and HTML improved, so did his skill with PHP and SQL and other TLA (three letter acronyms). He got that message board, and added a news section, but still hated the term “blog.” He fought with all his being to not get caught in the same machination as the blogs.

A funny thing happened on his way to make people laugh…he wasn’t making people laugh. Well, he wasn’t seeing people laugh. He couldn’t tell if they even cared, because, though he Google-Bombed the heck out of MacStansbury.com, he wasn’t getting participation from the masses. It all changed one December day.

After finding out that the blogs were becoming a super-popular way that new people were getting on the internet, he decided to find out what the big deal was. He found all the biggies, like PowerLine, Daily Kos, and a funky site called IMAO.us that was more humor than political. He liked funny, and intended to steal all their ideas.

But in his lust for power, he started going through their blog-rolls. He was finding sites that he never thought about before. One particular site has a girl that was about to see the President of the United States. In person. He was intrigued.

The first time he posted on the site, he was met as a new guy in the pub, familiar with darts and pool, and knowledgeable in the style menu. He fit in right away, and came to the epiphany: to make the people more like your site, you have to make it more familiar.

Okay, so he’s me. I’m me. I’m the guy. I know the mystery was killing you. Well, not any more that reading through 8,000 word blathering of my best rambling.

But it’s all done to show that I changed the look and feel of the site to make it seem more like a blog. I’ve become what I wanted to become least, a pimp.

No, wait, I mean, I’m a blogger. Hold, on, I’m a blogger?!? Awwww frick’n great.

UNCLEAN! UNCLEAN!

Well, I’m actually a story-teller, who’s cleverly made it look like I’m running a blog. It’s just a clever way to check all the boxes: Mac stuff? Check. Britney stalkeration? Check. Confusing the search engines and the suckers expecting real spoilers? Check. Ranting about lower taxes and more dead terrorists? Needs improvement. Whining about my message board? Check. Double check.

No, I’m not telling you to go sign up now. I’m always happy when people do, but I know that it’s like talking to two different kinds of people. Some people like the story-based linear chat style comments posting. I know I do! Look at Right Thinking Girl (the blog) and try and find one story that I haven’t posted like a manic depressive.

But there’s other people that like just talkin about stuuuuuff. That’s the message board people. They like more control. I can dig that too. That’s what the forum’s for. I encourage everyone to at least look at it, maybe try a test post or two. It won’t kill ya!

And, it’ll help me make you laugh.

Categorized:
Overthinking

Friday Spoilers: Constantine

Published
by
John Stansbury
on February 18, 2005

Spoiler Alert!
This is just to warn you. I will be giving out advanced notice of something that happens in a movie that you won’t know unless I tell you, or you see the movie.

This week’s movie is Constantine.

Good grief. From the official web site:

John Constantine has been to hell and back.*

Born with a gift he didn’t want, the ability to clearly recognize the half-breed angels and demons that walk the earth in human skin, Constantine (KEANU REEVES) was driven to take his own life to escape the tormenting clarity of his vision. But he failed. Resuscitated against his will, he found himself cast back into the land of the living. Now, marked as an attempted suicide with a temporary lease on life, he patrols the earthly border between heaven and hell, hoping in vain to earn his way to salvation by sending the devil’s foot soldiers back to the depths.

But Constantine is no saint. Disillusioned by the world around him and at odds with the one beyond, he’s a hard-drinking, hard-living bitter hero who scorns the very idea of heroism. Constantine will fight to save your soul but he doesn’t want your admiration or your thanks – and certainly not your sympathy.

All he wants is a reprieve.

When a desperate but skeptical police detective (RACHEL WEISZ as Angela Dodson) enlists his help in solving the mysterious death of her beloved twin sister (also played by Weisz), their investigation takes them through the world of demons and angels that exists just beneath the landscape of contemporary Los Angeles. Caught in a catastrophic series of otherworldly events, the two become inextricably involved and seek to find their own peace at whatever cost.

I guess they are going to keep putting these things out until we finally can’t take it no more! Honestly, these guys are going to kill me with these things…I’m serious. First that Van Helsing, then Heckboy, AvP…can we just make another Dracula, coincidentally also starring Keanu Reeves.

No, that movie wasn’t the best movie ever, but it was a start. It took a movie, threw lots of dollars at it, and had a good story line, and wasn’t afraid to make it a little sexy. Had Dracula been made in 2002, do you think that there would be more vampires or more cgi? They did very well with Dracula with the restrictions of time and technology.

But it’s 2005, and this recent wave of monster movies has all the feel and class of a 1970s kung-fu movie. Just because we can put a giant dragon in there means we should put a giant dragon in there. Bleh. But it seem that Hollywood thinks the only reason we go to see a movie is to see the fangs.

So, here’s the spoiler:

KEANU REEVES

Have a great weekend, everybody!

*Editor’s note: this was one of the funniest joke I ever heard Red Skelton tell. I like to think I’ll be able to pull off jokes like this when I’m that old.

Categorized:
Friday Spoilers

BSS: Britney Simple Syndication 16

Published
by
John Stansbury
on February 16, 2005

While fighting against evil, I pledged to keep the world updated on what Britney is doing with her life. At the time, she was unmarried and mildly sane. And not in “dog” fights. You’ll get it later.

This week is chock full of stuff. Yes, stuff. Like I’m going to waste the good lines on the description. And I’m really lazy.

On to the links!

1. This week’s first link comes from Reuters.com and it-hold on, that’s a real news site. How’d that happen? Ooooooh…it’s cause Britney won a Grammy. That’s why.

2. I spent all week hoping that this story was true. But alas, not only does she deny it, she slammed it. Yet another thing that makes this week seem so truly depressing.

3. In identical stories, India reports that Britney Spears has come out sniping at Paris Hilton’s dog saying that her three chihuahuas- Bit Bit, Lacy Loo and Lucky are far better than Hilton’s Tinkerbell….”My dogs are stylin’ and profilin. Von Dutch just sent them the coolest little clothes. My dogs are so much cuter than Tinkerbell”, Ananova quoted Britney as saying. Vindictive the UK has and actual story.

4. This MTV blurbtalks about Britney’s annoying love for stupid Kevin What’s-his-name, and even yammers on at her site abou–wait a minute! She won a frick’n Grammyâ„¢?!? That’s just weird. So much for the Grammys being taken seriously.

No picture this week, sorry. That’s what you get for expecting!

Categorized:
BSS

The Blackest of Days

Published
by
John Stansbury
on February 14, 2005

Evil Valentine’s Day. It’s about this time that I start complaining about how I’ll be alone forever, or that this is such an over-blown holiday. Or I point out one of the few bright spots.

But just what is so great about this day? What’s with all the candy, the cards, and the sexy lingerie? Mostly I’m focusing on the candy, because that part I don’t mind so much. But what’s the deal?

It is amazing that we have co-opted so many holidays from their original meanings so that we can get I day off, or that we can increase sales for the quarter. It’s odd then, that what started off as a date to remember a martyr of the early Church has turned into a reason to get down wit’cho bad sef.

I made that last part up.

St. Valentine is a martyr from around 300 AD, who was probably killed for whatever reason on February 14. There are tons of stories as to why he was killed, and that there may have been more than one (one a priest of Rome, another a bishop of Ternia). This is where the story takes a strange twist.

It was “common knowledge” that birds found their mates in the middle of February. After a while, people started associating the time of the year with birds mating. So, birds found their mates on Valentine’s Day. But there was no reason that the birds couldn’t have found their mate on another day.

If the Tsumani in Southeast Asia had come come on July the 4th, Americans would’ve surely called it the Independence Day Tsunami. That was the case with the birds. They just hooked up, as was the custom of the day, on that particular day. There was nothing particularly special about it.

Later, as tradition turned into pastime, young men started to write letters home during the Crusades, it was thought that the Spring was when boys minds turned to fancy. It was more because wars are fought in the Spring when crops don’t need harvesting, but don’t let facts get in the way of a good story. Again, coincidence had a part to play.

Since we tend to carry on traditions long after they loose their original meaning, the men upon returning from wars were met with a bloc of interested parties that were looking for the same kind of attention they were getting whilst the working end was away. In laymen’s terms, the ladies wanted the fellas to keep working for it. This, however, was a surprise to the fellas, who what had did fought in a frick’n war for them. Thus the great tradition of sleeping on the couch was started.

Okay, so most of that last paragraph I made up. But not the part about the men having to keep up the courting. No, after the Crusades the menfolk had it worse. Now the women expected to be wooed and written to, and made a big deal out of…and the men had no choice but to give in to their devilish schemes.

That is, I mean, until the men-folk got wise to their ways, and calmed down with all that writing and stuff. However, it wasn’t like the women were going down without a fight. They managed to con us male-types into making the bird hook-up day into a full-blown holiday. Not a huge one, at first, but one in which the males could still make the women feel special.

To make those women feel special, the age-old art of bribes was employed, and worked itself into something that makes up our modern celebration. During the second World War, there was intense rationing, and something odd started to take place. Women were starting to select gift for this sort-of holiday that included two things that were difficult to get: chocolates and nylons.

Because chocolate and sugar were in short supply, children who loved the God-given delight of chocolate candies were left without. Sugar was too great a staple to waste on candy. Nylon was a fabric that went into the war machine to make parachutes and tents, not leggings. As part of the Valentine’s Day phenomena, women started asking for these two items over all others for their bribes tokens of affection.

Until studies in the late 90s, we had no idea why those two particular items were so successful in getting-um-the men, er, where they wanted to go. It’s a family show, people. Turns out, that chocolate is a natural aphrodisiac. And yummy. It took scientists to figure this out.

The nylon stockings were something else entirely. No, the stockings were not aphrodisiacs in themselves, but the fellas tended to like them. In fact, when the ladies found out just how much they could make us dumb men-folk do just to get to those stockings, they became an instant hit. Something that was true in cave man days holds true to modern man; a well-placed corset can lead men to war.

Sure, you can point to the psychological ramifications of having good self-esteem through a healthy look has, but that’s not the point. We are led to believe that a woman who feels like she is good-looking and makes the men pay attention is natural and healthy-and it is. And it’s alright to have a day where we celebrate the love that two (or more-thanks porn) people share.

What my point has been, and will continue to be till they start putting dirt on my coffin, is that I don’t need Hallmark telling me what I should be doing. I’m sure that there are a lot of people getting down wit’those afore-mentioned bad selves, I just won’t be one of them. I will be burning candles, playing my emo tunes, and crying about how if I’d just gone to Forest Hill instead of Princeton I coulda got down wit’ Carmen Electra (before she was all skankified by Prince) and I coulda had her all to myself.

Yeah, Merry Frick’n Valentine’s Day.

Categorized:
Overthinking