Friday, May 19, 2006


Ah, the wonders of the web.

While pondering it occurred to me that we didn't have a reasonable nickname for our son, and that "evil little bastard", "little horror" and even "lord foul's bairn" and other similar epithets were wearing thin.

After a bit of thought I arrived at "Bielzibabe" and the wonder of the web is such that a mere few seconds later I can confirm that it's original, or at least Google hasn't heard of it. Ah... So, it's goodbye to "what's the evil one been up to today, then" and hello "BB"...

Now all I have to do is work out what to tell her indoors it means...

Friday, May 05, 2006


I noticed my fileserver (a bog-standard tower PC with a vertically-mounted motherboard) was down yesterday, so I wandered out (it lives outside the house, for various reasons) and power-cycled the bloody thing.

It started working, so I logged onto it had a rummage about on the disk to see if there were any traces of what stopped it. After a minute or two of this it stopped again. After various dark mutterings (it was dark) I wandered out again and went to power-cycle it again, but this time I noticed it smelled 'hot' so I dragged it inside and took the covers off. This time it wouldn't start up at all...

And eventually - never accuse me of being completely unobservant - I noticed why. All the surface mount power devices near the CPU had slipped away from their placements. The buggers must have got so hot they'd desoldered themselves and wandered off...

It's interesting that all the devices seem to have been exposed to the same temperature, so my model, which could be complete bollocks, is along the lines of the CPU fan failing (the only mechanical bit, after all) and the CPU then steadily dumping heat into the PSU devices (they're very near. The CPU is just out of shot in that photo) until they got fed up and sloped off.

I suspect the PSU was running right up until the end and the ex-FET probably died heroically as a result of its clamp diode leaving home and abandoning it... Strains of the Titanic, the music playing on as the passengers slid down the deck to their doom... What? Sorry, came over a little strange there. Been working too hard. Doesn't happen often...

Sunday, February 26, 2006


> Just invest in a flag factory. The Muslim world can't burn enough of
> 'em, apparently.

I've just had an idea - what someone ought to do is encode the text of the holy books of every god-bothering set of lunatics into binary, then transcribe that to a DNA sequence (fairly easily done these days) and then it could be cheaply replicated and sold in spray cans. Then all you'd have to do is spray your flags, embassies, etc, etc with it and they'd be inviolate: "You can't burn that - it has billions of copies of the Qur'an on it"

We could call it "Fundie-Flit" or some such.

We could also insert the appropriate sequence into a retro-virus, making it possible for the daft buggers to write the word of de lord into every cell in their bodies, where hopefully it'd do the most good (for the rest of us, that is)...

Friday, February 17, 2006

More culls from conferences

(6 Sept 2000) General ineptitude

An idiot was once asked to video a friend driving in a motor race, which would have been fine had they not pressed the record/pause button once too often at the start and so become completely out of sync. . .

The resulting footage consisted of twenty minutes of grass, footwear, and incidental conversation, interspersed each lap as the camera panned up to the track when the cars became audible then cut just as they come into view to a shot of them disappearing out of view again.

So, having videoed the entire race without managing to get a single shot of the damned car, but capturing every disparaging comment made about the driving, the idiot then went and gave the tape to the driver without checking what was on it ;)

There's a plus side, though. I don't get asked to video races anymore...

(18 Oct 2000) Energy policy

> If I had gas I would set fire to it.

I have friends who regularly try to set fire to mine. . . Bastards, all of them. One day I'll invent catalytic-converter underpants, simultaneously eliminating the risk of blow-back and keeping the olde nadgers warm. See if I don't...

(22 Nov 2000) Reminiscing

I miss the person I was back in the days of laurence, I occasionally find myself rereading it and wondering what the fuck my sense of humour has been doing during the subsequent five years and why the bastard hasn't sent me a postcard.

(3 Dec 2000) Railway speed restrictions

What's all this nonsense about train-drivers being unable to cope with new speed restrictions ? What do they do that's so complicated ? They don't even have to steer the damned things. Mind you, I suppose having to look out of the window does present a bit of a challenge if you're used to getting in, slapping your beer-belly on the dead-mans switch and falling asleep.

I suspect the only reason these railway speed-restrictions have been lifted is that the tiny-brained vermin who rejoice whenever motorists get shafted tend to travel by train, and don't like it when it happens to them. . .

>> They should be thankful that they don't have speed humps.

Pah. Don't talk to me about speed-humps, t'wife set a new record the other day. From completely clothed to post-coitus cigarette in under a minute, and we don't even smoke.

(9 Oct 2004) Women

> How else could they be so cunning and manipulative?

Lots and lots of practice. I have a theory - dinosaurs... no! not that theory! Where was I? Oh yes:

For the last few months She Who Must Be Obeyed has been taking t'daughter, Gurgle, (aged 5 going on 15) to ballet dancing lessons. Lots of Gurgle's friends seem to be involved, but - and here is where the theory comes in - as far as I can tell none of them shows the slightest ability or inclination to dance. It would be kindness itself to describe their dancing ability as being on a par with that of Ayres rock. They collectively have all the grace and skill of a herd of pissed elephants. So, either this is a ruse and they're being taught something else or somewhere in cheshire there's an inept and/or suicidal ballet-dancing teacher. . .

I suspect some sort of female indoctrination process hidden from the eyes of men. I must investigate. I'll follow her next time and report ba[no carrier]

Thursday, February 16, 2006

"Publish and be dumbed"

After forty-odd (some very odd) years I've come to the following conclusion about life:

It is not possible to avoid making mistakes. It is, however, possible to only make one mistake. And that's by never doing anything at all...

Monday, February 13, 2006

Easter eggs

For some reason hidden jokes in computer software are called "easter eggs"; some can be found here: