Wednesday, September 22, 2010

How Close Carbon Monoxide Detector To Oven

# 7: And the geeks cried in fake

Previously, a computer was seen as a waste pile, as a useless and repulsive that was reminiscent of a certain hunchback of some cathedral.

Fortunately for us, it's been years that the trend has reversed. Indeed, now, do not be a geek means being has-beens, overwhelmed by the technology that surrounds us. For indeed, who can not live a day in front of a black screen is unworthy of love of humanity.


The stereotype is farthest from reality in the world?

It took one day, the term geek is born to unite lovers of computer technology (the most common meaning). People who know a lot about how these machines called computers, code, using software that nobody knows and can do what no one knows how.

Fortunately, I said earlier (as we see it if you follow)? No! Therefore, as the plague descends on the Earth or Shakira singing Waka Waka on the radio, the men decided it was time to make a kind of geeks than the rest of humanity. Speaking of movies hacks, series in which the pirates and their keyboards who break the beep NASA safety by ctrl + alt + del on a PDA, comics, and even a geek like selling the issue of race in singer without thinking.

"Singeons! "Exclaims the little while Kevin lambda! "So the class to be a fan of the computer! Whether to enter the databases of the FBI ... "to find what, in fact ? "... And put out of service the site of the CIA! Send viruses to all his friends, find passwords Skyblogs, and even an account HACKER Dofus! "Except that

? Except that it's hard. After two trials, our little Kevin leaves. While the company will make - yet it always his fault really, the Communists have his skin, dead to society -? Well she decided that we will summarize: we must love Role Playing, Star Wars, and spending time at a computer. Oh, and if you have a blog, too, is the class. Skyblog even with a basic theme, it does not matter.


Morpeug The phenomenon, the pirate and his cheback, but happiness in 10
command prompts open at once to enter a computer through a server.

of two things: be a geek does not mean simply being able to spend hours in front of a computer. Thus, a remnant of human obese pimply, greasy-haired, softly waving his chubby fingers on the mouse to World Of Warcraft all day long keeping well treasured his virginity at the top of his 37 years did nothing a geek. This is what called a gamer, a no-life, an autistic, a non-friends, a foul taste, missed abortion, a joke of God ... In short, anything but a geek.

A geek is an individual computer enthusiast. It seeks to exploit these machines, understand, manipulate them to perfection. It informs, teaches, tries, code, creates, he is not content to use already, it attempts to bring his touch to the computer world ... Or maybe I'm exaggerating. Say it is a passion for computers, no video games.

So I ask that we think of those who are insulted when little geek chick claims to be because he spends time on a video game, and he saw Star Wars 3 VF in four times. I ask that we think of those who cry when the so-called "geeks" talk to "install Linux on a Windows, which is impossible because their PC is a Mac."

I think of all those who suffered in France watching TV chaining "I-Phone Windows 7", the "Meuporgs," the "Morpeugs," the "Cheback" and other "I landed on her desk after having spent their server.

Please, you humans who have nothing geek, just use MSN and Microsoft Office Suite in silence and try to imitate a geek to understand it as a blonde silly and unnecessary. And as writers, do not speak (and do not show, for that matter) if no one is hacking at the side to hold your hand.

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Friday, September 10, 2010

Can I Make Blonde Brownies Without The Vanilla?

# 6: The bus in the city and its dangers

The bus was still a little time is empty. It was 17h, I left the basement in which I interviewed with vigor and respect for his person, an individual whom I suspected of being the ringleader of false-geeks. Yes, these abject beings who write in SMS and know nothing about computers other than "how to access a private server on World of Warcraft," but claim to be real geeks. In fact, says Kevin-Delanoix was a fool who could not write in French and played World of Warcraft. Damage.

I for me the misfortune to live in a world in which a studded bracelet and chain rhyme with Satan. Unfortunately, in winter, if I dress class (shirts), I can not sported T-shirts with logos in the summer. Even if you judge me a little further, I manage to live without that does not bother me with any stereotype.

Yet there are times when the freshly bloodied fists, I enter a public place (a bus here, which is a public place too small to be publicly acknowledged as such), some people at the meanness of spirit great turn up to remind me how good it is flattering to be evolved mentally. Five virgins

hysterical, covered up, but the face and ugly clothing style simply awful, he was so stinking of conformism and without any worth, sat not far from me, instead of four. Yes, sitting on four to five seats.

One her joining them by announcing she wanted to be there, it was easy to foresee that their goal is to feel strong by attacking someone. This should be someone close to them, so I was a perfect target for their daily training of pouffisisme. The competition was launched.



Spot the danger: this is the danger. Note that only, it is harmless.
However, the higher the IQ negative accumulates, the more we fall
in excess of stupidity.

Then they laughed at me in silence without speaking to me directly, I raised a Eyebrow disarray. This act, although all that was simpler, threw them in dialogue. New round.

"do it again! "What

asks:''Re-raise your eyebrow, I did not see'', and asked no formal address to a person perfectly unknown who has done nothing more than to sketch a movement of more mundane .

"Fuck you. "It took

be scathing and vulgar to respond to these lovely people. Indeed, a force in them is that anyone attempting to adequately express himself in good French is found immediately insulted in return. In the world of fools intellectuals are the idiots who entertain silly.

"What's your name? Xavier? Francis? "What

respond to that? Here's what I propose:

A: "Touche in your ass"

B: "Feel your finger"

C: Your real name

D: Explain why this would not answer

E : Testing the power of non-intelligence.

If you do not answer E, you're dead. It's quite simple test:

A or B:

"- Key to your butt. Feel your finger.

- Fuck your mother son of a bitch.

- Ah ok. "

C:

" - Thomas (for example)

- Ah you will not. Plus it's ugly. Like you.

- Ah ok. "

D" - Actually, I think it would serve no useful answer, since I have no desire to give you my name. It affects you in any way, I do not know you. Furthermore you are too stupid for me to stoop to try to establish any form of dialogue worthy of the name with you.

- Fuck your mother son of a bitch. Learn to speak French!

- Ah ok. "

See that the result is conclusive. In all cases, they feel strong, see you as their victim, and openly insult you with joy. The dialogue, if it rises above their IQ substantially similar to that of the oyster, will do nothing.

Now, test the response E:

"- Let Francis.

- Haha! We're too strong! "They yell in a standing ovation to their egos. No insult

bonus, and you see how they can be naive. Unable to realize that you played them. As they rejoice, you can continue to quietly go about your occupation. Of course, they will test anything that seems likely to cause frustration in your clothing, voice, movements, hair, beard, eyes, nose, pepper, anything goes. Why? What interest? Only they know.



Here, an individual called a "dirty blind man dressed in old " that does not leave
do. The rebellion, however, demand years of experience. Reserved to experts.

Why, yes, why some people have a spirit underdeveloped as they have no other means to persuade them to assert something to attack a person orally, in groups, to get the maximum? What is wrong in this most colorful skull as Disneyland, wearing the iron smoothed and filled with prejudice?

It was a long time that I had not had the joy of being treated for emotional gothic satanic sadomasochistic. Finally, of course, they did not remember the words that I just outlined, the first having found "satanistiquiste I know what it's called" the other "you know the guys there with chains and nails who like to hurt. "

It is also difficult to understand how this kind of person can well afford to insult people who are totally unknown for ten minutes without any remorse and while having an opinion of its quality of life. It can be a cynical person, character and unpleasant creaking. But we express ourselves when a person came to talk. It does not attack all guss who pass on the sidewalk, we would not otherwise made.

Here, no apparent reason, and no class. They insult someone, and most importantly, we refuse to answer the call. The answer unleashed enthusiasm. It is higher than that insult, how can this be less, dare rebiquer? In addition, there

the faults of taste hawkers (often it is the male of these pouffettes). Not content with inflicting torture our poor eyes, they indulge in addition to torture our ears until blood flows throughout our lobes. Their screams a piece of cellular Sexion Assault, and we suffer without power to act.

against these people, I demand that the flamethrower is legalized in order to get out without any effort (or lower its level of vocabulary or reduce its arguments). If this is not done, then I therefore declare the bus in France as a means of transport most dangerous (after bison in Somalia).


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Sunday, September 5, 2010

Kitchen Islands Blue Prints

slowly recovering and it comes back

On 1 September, I figured woke up with this fact in mind: "You speak of your desire to live otherwise your relationship with Jesus, but how do you live that if you cut all ties with him : atest meeting in personal prayer meeting atest to mass atest meeting with brothers who follow him.

Basically, it's like my nana j'disais " You know, darling, and I really j't'adore live our relationship to another mode, and worse than a bar j'me atest year without seeing her.

OK, I want good there is a phase of decline but hey, at some point, must rev'nir, right?

The best part of the matter is that on Friday came across a meditation ch'uis saying wholesale qu'c'est God who wishes to get in touch with us and qu'c'est approaching him.

J'connaissais the idea but it arrived timely.

not even when I'm gonna push now, s'rait absurd.

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Repare Rechergeable Emergency Ligth

# 5: Death and its public

The Mower was before me, erect like a shadow assassin. His scythe was covered with blood, and everything around her is spreading an aura of death. Around her, the world was dark, as if plunged into silence and darkness proclaiming the inevitability of my fate.

I felt his eyes pierce through me, his scythe was the last thing I would see, I knew it. Why was I woke up this morning? Why did I eat so much grain GMO fake chocolate covered chemical materials? Was I going to die because of my cholesterol? His

grated his teeth in a very shabby.

"- Mr. Hate?

- No. "

No, it was not me. Me, I was not there. My door was closed. I was asleep. His teeth damaged by time and seemed to form a smile squeaks.

"- Yes, yes, it's the right apartment.

- No, no, it's not there, that devil. "

She pushed me inside my apartment, and making me fall on my bed-sofa seat, his hand frozen. I collapsed weakly on the mattress. She walked in silence, like a cat killer, raised his scythe, and said in a tone which froze my blood:

"- Turn on the TV. "

Not TV. I had already seen too much! Why did she want to torture me before I put him to death? What suffering would I still have to endure?

"- Turn on the television. "

She gave me the remote control in the face, telling me the same token it does not really offer me another loophole. Feverishly, with horror, fingers trembling, I pressed the red button that allowed the window to scream nonsense. That was the news hour, apparently. I had to watch

the paper through. For an hour, I heard many and varied information on all possible topics: Laurent Fignon died, Laurent Fignon was a good man, we regret Laurent Fignon, the final words of Laurent Fignon, notices of close to Laurent Fignon Laurent Fignon died. As new in France and around the world.

In this world there are actually two rules: do not have a problem that deserves the attention of the media during the World Cup football, and not have a problem that deserves media attention when a celebrity dies. Finally, a celebrity ... A person a little more important than ordinary mortals. For example, Laurent Fignon.

Death looked at me satisfied. She explained what she wanted, I was just trying to do: talk of celebrity and death when these two things crossed. She invited me to a hand movement to continue.


My new inspiration

Let us, therefore. When you are rich, no one knows nor respects us until we do pass the bucket. I say rich, because in reality, when someone is known, it sometimes is not great world. He had a heyday, and that makes someone more important than all the rest of the world.

Two things: his death saddens person. When Michael Jackson is dead, the fans yelled that it made them much trouble, even if a few months ago, they told everyone that sex (black? White? Riddle, stand), said the singer was nicknamed Truth because he always went out of the mouths of children. When he died, he became a legend.


Therefore, no more laughs. We respect that. And we watch a film about him. And you listen to his CD. And Best of leaving. And his new Best Of Posthumous With unreleased tracks Inside. And also, we are informed that he has never been drugged, never pedophile, he has remained chaste and never spit on the floor in the school yard. He spends a poor rag to God.

Nearby, people whose lives have been exemplary die in agony for unfairness. These individuals have unwillingly been stupid enough not to become famous. Consequently, their death is worthless. Children jumping on mines that had to be grafted on the stumps of the feet and become dwarfs in Fort Boyard.


a mine and it comes to that. Go a little effort !

So, I recently learned the death of a cyclist that I had, O God, never heard of. And during this 1 hour newscast. Nothing has changed from one in France. When a cyclist dies of cancer, France stops. Nobody died in the streets, nobody has more interesting life, no football game is played. You are silent, and allowed the rider to die.

What is funny is also to listen to the testimony. The cyclist told-is presented as a good man who fought to the end with pride. There are, worldwide, people still die more dignified. But these people do not bike. Too bad for them. They are stupid, these people do not ride a bike.

I also learned the death of a director I had never heard of before, which gave birth to films I had never heard of. Once dead, he became the idol of I-don't-know how many people, was a true cinematic genius, and besides, he went to Mass every Sunday, and he gave money to beggars. He even saved baby seals. And dolphins, and ponies, because it's kawaii.

Let us compare two individuals:

the right, Roger, humble worker in a plant. Roger has always lived in an apartment like a cave. He took a shower while standing in the middle of the room, so filtered water. The work took too long for him to marry. So he lives alone and without children. There is little time, Roger has discovered, in addition to his broken back and his arm paralyzed by years of toil, he had bone cancer.

The poor man suffers a martyr, but he continues to smile at her niece, and not told anyone of his family he will die. Historically, he rescues those who are dear to him, and he does not want him to suffer from his illness, whereas they are the last hours during which he may admire their innocent smiles.

He eventually die quietly in a small provincial hospital.

left, Jack Nowell, director, writer and actor. He directed the film "The exceptional man," is richer than Croesus, lives in a yacht, a girl under each arm, another between the legs. Le seul alcool qu'il consomme est du champagne, et pour lui, la vie est tout ce qu'il ya de plus simple. He lives his passion, is famous and adored, in addition to being very easy financially. One day he was found dead in his vomit sauce (caviar) following a cocaine overdose in his bathrobe gold on his carpet $ 200 per square meter.

Roger does not exist. Everybody cares Roger. Roger is an idiot, he never made a film. As for Jack Nowell, he pays tribute for 3 months, spring edition of its film post-mortem with additional deleted scenes. In addition, all fans are screaming that his death is unjust, and television, everybody says that his heart on his hand, was a genius, autodidact, and besides, he liked dolphins ( always).

In the end, and approve the Reaper: become famous, die, and you're a god.

Not before, however. When one is alive, it is a failure. Except when one makes a bad movie but so pretty and kawaii it at half mast throughout the world (avatar, for example) or no one writes a book (Twilight, for example).

Make Avatar wet virgins or do with Twilight, and you'll be living in God. If you do not feel comfortable in, just to ride a bike, you'll be dying.


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