Oreo stealing Shaolin!

Hello Good Ol' Three Faithful Readers!

Someone suggested that I should post more "serious and diverse stuff" in the blog. So I will begin with these interesting links:

Now, let me begin by telling you I began my computing endeavors when I was around 5 years old, and they involved a Mac Classic II, Math Blaster and a very early version of Wheel of Fortune that back then I dreamed the money I won in-game could be printed. My next computer was a Power Mac 7200 in which I had the joy of popping my "Hello World" cherry, learned about object oriented programming with Java, flirted with Doom and got acquainted with Usenet. There's also a Power Mac 7500, 9600 and a 3G MT in the repertoire of computers I had before I touched my first Windows computer. Back then I was an Apple Evangelist.


It's time people realize Apple is not a goody-two-shoes company. Yeah, they produce excellent and revolutionary products, I will not deny that one bit. I also believe their OS has always been ahead of the curve and tailored toward a certain market such as artists, snobs, designers... and all around people looking for a powerful yet simple computing experience. But I have to also confess somewhere along the line I became more interested in the open architecture of the "PC" - which Macs are too... PC stands for Personal Computer, and it is my understanding Macs are also computers intended for personal use... but who am I to argue against most people, huh? I've also more interested in gaming, which Apple has been promising since they old days of yore... I remember a MacAddict magazine which promised how "serious" Apple was about gaming... and we know the truth behind that now.


Get over it people. Apple can also fail. At least Microsoft shows their face, apologize and assure they'll look into the matter even if they take months to do it. *eyes you, Windows Home Server*


Now for the not so "serious" part. I'm really concerned about the Chinese. Their Olympics opening ceremony was more than more than amazing. I personally didn't see it, yet they say it the view of more than 2000 synchronized Chinese fellows was awe-inspiring. Yet all I'm thinking about was... it's all a friggin' show! Of course they're trying really hard to make everything beautiful to hide all their horrifying government politics. Since I'm a computer technology minded fellow, I'm more worried about the Great Firewall of China than anything.


Okay, that's a lie. I'm more concerned about the Oreos.


Let me tell you, I really think people have the government and society that their actions or omissions deserve. So if they're the way they are, it's because they like it that way. Now, there's around 1,321,851,888 Chinese over there. That means that roughly, 1% of the population means 132 million people. If suddenly just 1% of the Chinese population suddenly had a car with a 50 lts. gas thank, that means 6,600,000,000 gas lts. If out of the blue 1% of the Chinese population began taking an average shower of 5 minutes using 3 gallons of water a minute that's 1,980,000,000 gallons of water. The day that 1% of the Chinese population start eating 3 times a day there's not gonna be enough rice for the rest of the world.


So, I'm afraid Kraft suddenly realizes that they should focus their Oreo production toward the Chinese market... I bet 1% of the Chinese population means millions and millions and millions of USD for them. That could also mean that the Chinese are going to start needing milk to dunk their Oreos in. And between all the cows they're going to suck dry out of milk and all the sacred cows in India, there's going to be a shortage of both milk and Oreos in the world.


Screw them. I think it should be in the best interests of the whole world that China's quality of life keeps improving. Because, if they keep economically growing the way they are right now, one day when they can start acquiring all these products there's going to be a shortage in the rest of the world. Hell, over here in Mexico there's been a rise on certain basic products like rice, tomatoes and what-not just because more Chinese are eating once day. And since I'm a computer technology minded fellow, the more websites they don't have access to means more bandwidth available for the rest of us. So screw them and let's hope they stay the way they are right now.


As for me... excuse me while I go dunk my Oreos on my milk while I still can.

Most people

Welcome back my Good Ol' Three Faithful Readers!

I'm planning on posting a "short" - nothing is actually "short" in this blog - story involving a mysterious balloon that suddenly appeared in my office desk. But It's still cooking up so I'll delay that for a later day.

So for now, let me tell you that recently it has been called to my attention that I do odd things most people would not do. And I'm believe that is actually a good thing because it defines me as a thinking, individual human being. As you can see in a previous post titled Good thing they were Catholic, and according to what little I, a simple Computer Systems Engineer, knows about Crowd Psychology through empiric experience and the works of Stephen Reicher, some Freud, Bruce Bassi, Charles Mackay, Mass Hysteria, Herd Behaviour, Collective Effervescence, Moral Panic and most notably and importantly The Joker in The Dark Knight, when people work in very large, mass-like groups, their behavior becomes tribal, primitive, uncoordinated, without any civilized thought.

In simple terms: friggin' stupid.

I do understand there is some collective intelligence, in the crowd. Yet I think the crowd has to be smart to begin with. Sad fact is in a country such as Mexico where only 18.5% of the population gets to actually finish one grade - note, a single grade - of high school, I guess it's safe to say our collective asses are friggin' stupid.

Then you see people all gathering to a certain lane because, according to some urban legend, they believe is the fastest lane. Everyone stays away from a particular dance club because, according to some anonymous spamish email, they drug people's drinks. A whole city stays in their respective houses because, if a anonymous poorly written message on public streets, says this will be the most violent weekend ever on the city. People won't go to a restaurant because, so the rumors say, burritos are made with dog mean. Some folks still double click web links and there are some who use still click "Apply" before clicking "OK" when "OK" inherently "Applies" who happen to be the same people responsible for Windows Vista's draconian UAC. I bet these herd of people must be very, very smart.

Yeah... right... and Little Mickey died mixing Pop Rocks and Coca Cola.

Hence, it is my belief that whatever most people do will quite probably be something friggin' stupid. Mass media is directed towards most people and tells them what clothes to wear, what music to listen to, what person should they admire, what clubs and restaurants should they go to and what not. Here we find a generation of people who are fighting to find "themselves" and leave their own mark but still do the same stuff as most people.

Because most people are still people. And people are people. You know. Just bipedal animals wearing funny hats.

I don't know. I like to think that by not doing what most people do I am actually taking my own decisions and dictating my own behavior. But of course I make mistakes! Yet I'm educated and mature enough to recognize them, make amends if there is the need to, and then learn from them. Thereby I increase my own personal knowledge that further down the road will help me make my own personal choices hence keep on dictating my own behavior which I tell myself is more civilized, educated than most people.

In other words, yeah, you know I'm also trying to be myself... like most people.

The Dollar Experience

Hello my Good Ol' Three Faithful Readers!

I wonder if you're even out there. Maybe you grew old, awaiting for another post and died under silky cobwebs and running dust bunnies. Yet here I am and I hope your mummified eyes are still able to read my often hollow, sometimes amusing ramblings.

In any sense I guess logic would dictate that first of all I should explain my absence from these particular series of bits floating around in the Interweb. Yet, I'm not gonna do it. Deal with it. I guess if I keep on publishing eventually you can put the pieces together. Either that, or you can make up your own story. I'll bet it would be a lo more epic and cooler than whatever actually did happen in my life.

For now I'm going to talk to you about a real funny experience I had yesterday. As you might recall, I'm a horror fan. I love horror movies. When I dream, if I have a nightmare, it's actually a pleasant dream for me full of excitement and fun. Schitt, I've been killed in some dreams and that has not stopped me from enjoying the experience.

So there's this movie called The Midnight Meat Train, which is based in a short story by Clive Barker on the Books of Blood. Both the short story and the movie are amazing. You can read a good review of the film here. Suffice to say it's beautiful. Like a blood soaked haiku poem.

The point is for some reason Lionsgate did not want to release the film on big name movie theaters, and sent it straight to Dollar Movie Theaters. Apparently the move involves an odd feud between Lionsgate and Clive Barker. Don't know much of the details, but I know this and that, as horror fans, we should support our beloved genre.

It so happens there was a show in my city. So obviously I went to see the movie and was treated not only a really good horror movie, but also a very, very interesting life experience I had long lost. See, I was going to a Dollar Movie Theater. Can you understand the power of that? A motherfriggin' Dollar Movie Theater!

What instantly came to my mind was the image of kids. Kids who get their weekend allowance after finishing their chores like picking up their room, cleaning the dishes and mowing the lawn under the summer sun. They come back inside with a proud smile on their faces and extend their hands whereby their parents nod and say: "You earned it Champ" as they move their hand to their backs, to that sacred place where the magical leather device holds many, many plastic cards, business cards of unknown strangers who might one day maybe be useful contacts, old family pictures proudly flashed at said unknown strangers, folded napkins with lipstick kisses and telephone numbers, a forgotten condom too old to be used yet too meaningful to throw away.

All that does not matter to our young hero. All the kid cares about is when that glorified piece of paper comes out with angelic tunes being played in the child's mind.

Five $1USD bills.

When you're a kid, five dollars is a whole bunch of money. You still don't have a full grasp on the concept of what stuff is really worth and the fact that that bill means about 1.288 gallons of gas. All our Little Weekend Warrior knows is that he goes to his bike, holding to his five bucks for life and goes to the Dollar Theater.

And let me tell you, those five dollars take him a long way! He comes to the theater and parks his bike. And there they are; movie posters with magical beings, fedora wearing heroes, menacing serial killers, women in large cleavages being held by alien beings and 50-feet high monsters holding civilization hostage. It's the factory of dreams! And he stands there, looking at the future promises of action, adventure, horror and romance trying to make up his mind what dream is to come true this weekend for just $1.

Thus, our Little Weekend Warrior goes to the box office and drops his $1 bill and a movie ticket come back to him. He goes inside where there is an impregnated smell of popcorn on the old, rotting carpet; where flashing lights invite him to pop quarters on the arcade machines and pictures of old black and white celluloid heroes hang from the walls. He pops in 3 quarters trying to beat Galaga's high score and maybe one last quarter to the claw machine hoping to win some kind of surprise held in a plastic bubble.

Finally he goes to the candy store, where he buys a box of Milk Duds and large Cherry Coke before he nonchalantly walks towards the old man who is sleeping yet as soon as someone comes close to him with ticket in hand, like clockwork, he wakes up, smiles with his crooked and yellowing teeth before he cuts the movie ticket in half; he points out your theater number and that you should keep your half in case you have to go out to the restroom.

He moves towards his theater, and then looks back to see if the old man is looking. Lo and behold, the old man is sleeping again. Silently, the way Sam Fisher likes it, he goes past the theater number his ticket says he should go in and moves towards that prohibited movie. And he sits. And he enjoys and marvels at the magic that happens right there, in front of him. All the make up, prosthetic faces, the blood, the gore, the gratitous nudity and maybe, just maybe, he will learn something about human sexuality which he will share with his street buddies.

He smiles.

In the back of the almost empty theater sits a couple who are too young to afford a motel but old enough to discover their bodies. Somewhere over there is a horror movie buff half enjoying the movie half criticizing it. There's an old lady who went there not knowing what the movie was about and who leaves the theater half-way through the film. A group of friends sit having joking, throwing popcorn and making fun of the movie. But to our Little Weekend Warrior... it's all magic.

Magic happening before his eyes. His eyes swallowing all those images inciting him to dream. To smile.

You see, amidst the blockbusters and CGI effects and all the hype and the media we have forgotten what it was like to be taken away by movies. We forgot the mysticism behind the actors, the stories and the images that are laid out in front of us. We have forgotten what it was like when we went to the Mom and Pop's Dollar Theater with second run, grindhouse, unrated, artistic movies; being a friend of the janitor who would sneak you from theater to theater and sometimes to the projection boot where he would let you cut a frame of magic from the print. We have forgotten how much of our first sexual knowledge came from looking at grown-up movies and the art of popcorn wars and where the Montauk Monster is real.

And so I enjoyed The Midnight Meat Train in more, mystical ways than one. At one point I was going to complain that there was a small shadow covering a very, small part of the film on the bottom right corner. Yet I thought: "You cheap bastard! You paid $1 to see this movie. ONE BUCK!!! Shut up, sit down, munch popcorn and enjoy it!"

And so I did.

There's also another kind of dollar experience that has to do with lap dances and g-strings, but our little weekend warrior would probably not be allowed to go in. Much less so with just five $1 bills.