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Shane

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Shepherd Smith [Apr. 23rd, 2009|05:55 pm]
Shepherd Smith has it fuckin' right! Torture is a loser of an issue. It's a loser on efficacy--it's good for extracting false confessions. It's a loser on morals--how can we call our nation worth preserving if we do the same thing as the regimes we despise? Republicans embrace the policy of torture to their own peril.
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Mixing it up with Roland Martin [Apr. 20th, 2009|06:39 pm]

So I thought this was an interesting question that came up. I was disappointed that there were so few gay marriage supporters involved. Here are some snippets.


Go to facebook to see the whole thread.

So, I encourage you to consider joining me in propping up the liberal side of the argument on Roland S. Martin's facebook page. I know it may sound silly, but they really do read these comments on CNN. Where else does your blogging and tweeting and texting have the chance to fall on so many ears?

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I love the tension. [Apr. 10th, 2009|04:07 pm]
Even when groups opposing homosexuality have prevailed in court, they have gone on to face other setbacks. The Boy Scouts of America won a lawsuit in 2000 because it did not allow openly gay Scouts or Scout leaders. Since then, some private charities have refused to support the Scouts, and some local governments have yanked free use of facilities and other benefits. In Philadelphia, the city is demanding that the Scouts pay $200,000 in annual rent for a building that they had been using rent-free. The dispute is in court (Salmon washingtonpost.com).
I love the tension that exists between the individual liberty to do as one wishes and the individual liberty to not be coerced by others' wishes. This example seems to express that but at a larger scale, dealing with institutions rather than individuals. Here the Boy Scouts got their wish to not allow gays in their institution, and that's fine: they are a private institution. However, they had been relying on public resources, a building the city of Philadelphia was providing. Philadelphia rightly reasoned that if the Boy Scouts is a private institution, not an institution dedicated to a public good, then it ought to pay like any other private institution. It underscores the point that you can't have your private discrimination and your public resources. You have to choose. And it's just a beautiful back and forth. I love the tension.
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Warcraft Chat Log (Not World of Warcraft) [Apr. 10th, 2009|12:07 am]
whiteycraft: see what you did?
cuckold: cbl what you did
cuckold: fuck you
cuckold: read what i write
cuckold: oh htis is a story
cuckold: all about al
cuckold: whose life got turned upside
cuckold: down
cuckold: i just got into one little fight
cuckold: a grey balsam
cuckold: a rich source of teakwood
cuckold: got my frosted tips caught in the dough roller
cuckold: blinking diamonds from my eyes
cuckold: a new dawn
cuckold: ten thousand eyeless angels
cuckold: c.n., bound of hand and foot
cuckold: inch worming on its belly
cuckold: across a plane of jagged glass
cuckold: it lifts its parched mouth
cuckold: it's neck a half-beard of glistening, pink crystalline glass shards
cuckold: more numerous than the peoples of the sino-indian subcontinents
cuckold: its black eyes are blinking sightlessly
cuckold: even so it turns its gaze blearily to the east
cuckold: a wagon rolls in the distance
cuckold: reducing crushed glass into powder
cuckold: with the weight of its load
cuckold: in the bed of the wagon 6 men lie on their backs
cuckold: moaning
cuckold: so emaciated are they that a big man could place his finger and
thumb in circumference about their thighs
cuckold: they too glisten
cuckold: but with light caught not in a pelt of jagged glass
cuckold: but in their downy lanugo
cuckold: in which no sweat beads
cuckold: and no tears have caught
cuckold: the sun is high and thin
cuckold: like an ugly dream from which one has recently awakened
cuckold: it is the yellow of its own reflection
cuckold: no frying egg
cuckold: nor daisy
cuckold: nor wolf's eye
cuckold: it wispily hangs, mute and imparting no judgement
cuckold: c.n. gasps and rests its head back into the glass
cuckold: it twists torturously
cuckold: reorienting itself towards the wagon
cuckold: and with a hiss of pain as a hundred thousand new shards of
glass pierce it
cuckold: begins to slither
cuckold: in the bed of the wagon
cuckold: two men are silent
cuckold: one is dead
cuckold: translucent and not visited by insects
cuckold: though countless thousands have assembled
cuckold: but have alighted
cuckold: silently
cuckold: on the edges of the wagon
cuckold: they are all facing the other silent man
cuckold: who is made of solid gold
cuckold: and on whose thin body
cuckold: one hundred priceless necklaces have been hung
cuckold: his expression a mask of hideous pain
cuckold: his eye sockets and snarling mouth
cuckold: full of gems and wicked looking charms made from precious metals
cuckold: his clawing hands extended to the sky
cuckold: are laden with ornate clasps and tarnished chains
cuckold: of precious things long lost
cuckold: his feet are golden stubs, bound in filthy rags
cuckold: the assembled carrion insects move in beautiful intricate patterns
cuckold: they lay eggs in old languages in the cracks and creases of the
faces of the men in the wagon
cuckold: the dead man remains pristine
cuckold: an enormous fly, with shriveled wings and mangled legs is borne
on the backs of hundreds of others
cuckold: it is deposited on the sunken chest of the dead man
cuckold: the other insects retreat from the body of the dead man in
orderly streams
cuckold: the immobile fly quakes from within the rippling movements
cuckold: its enormous abdomen hisses obscenely
cuckold: suddenly it returns to a natural looking shape
cuckold: and then the integument of the fly splits neatly
cuckold: and the halves of the animal slide up and away
cuckold: till they are crumpled nothing
cuckold: and are blown from the top of the small, o void stone they have
revealed
cuckold: the wagon comes to a halt
cuckold: c.n. wiggles and grunts as its twists across the plane of broken glass
cuckold: leaving a trail of disturbed glass shards
cuckold: and the infinitesimal drops of ruby blood, more an insinuation
than real proof of a wound
cuckold: as the hours pile upon themselves
cuckold: like corpses hurled into a common grave
cuckold: the sickly sun hardly seems to move
cuckold: its light accompanied by no concomittant warmth
cuckold: and so, c.n. does not sweat as it labours
cuckold: it wheezes horribly, its lungs having suffered from its
inhalation of thousands of microscopic shards lifted into the air by its
movements
cuckold: by and by he approaches the wagon
cuckold: the carrion insects, as if having reached an accord, rise into
flight in a moment
cuckold: their droning is almost blasphemous against the silence of the plain
cuckold: they land on c.n. and walk about
cuckold: taste its blood
cuckold: but never extend their mouthparts to feed
cuckold: c.n. caked with a mixture of his own blood and the crushed
bodies of insects
cuckold: reaches the left, rear wheel of the wagon
cuckold: blood does not so much pool as shadow the patch of grisly earth
it has chosen to rest on
cuckold: its wheezes are truly horrible
cuckold: the men in the wagon, sensing something new
cuckold: whisper horribly to one another
cuckold: what has come?
cuckold: is it a friend
cuckold: an enemy?
cuckold: how can they have any security against it?
cuckold: they cannot
cuckold: the dead man is jostled
cuckold: and the stone on his chest rolls and bounces
cuckold: it traces the edge of an enormous circle
cuckold: falls noiselessly through a hole a knot has left in the bed of
the wagon
cuckold: traces now a smaller circle
cuckold: and rolls against c.n.
cuckold: c.n. shrieks and recoils
cuckold: thrashing violently 
cuckold: the men in the wagon recoil in surprise
cuckold: the eldest tears at his thin hair and squeezes tears too small
for gravity to drag across his downy cheek
cuckold: he toothlessly gasps a guttural "Muh"
cuckold: c.n. flips and twists
cuckold: doing further injury to itself
cuckold: eventually the sun begins to set
cuckold: and in that grand twilight
cuckold: the men of the wagon shake
cuckold: more from cold and hunger than form the stale fear of the
shrieking thrashing thing
cuckold: in the middle of the night
cuckold: a new moon casts no light onto the plain of glass
cuckold: once again silent
cuckold: in its throes of agony c.n. has trace out instructions, which
would appear black if there were any light to see by
cuckold: a continuous smear of a paste made from blood and crushed
insects reads:
cuckold: Hey Shane if you're gonna be a while I think I'm going to enjoy
a few pages of my book, let me know when you would like to play warcraft
cuckold: your pal
cuckold: Mike Van Der Slice
cuckold: the men in the wagon are all dead
cuckold: c.n. is motionless and cold, somehow immaculately clean
cuckold: and covered in an even layer of glass shards
cuckold: its eyes are open and staring at the black moon
cuckold: they too are pierced at a density of 1500 shards per square centimeter
cuckold: the insects have all departed
cuckold: fuck you
cuckold has left the game.
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To the tune of Pinnochio [Apr. 3rd, 2009|02:01 pm]
I have no willpower to get up, to make me rise, to do my stuff.
I have no willpower and that's ok, today's a wasted day.
Hi ho the dario, nothing ever bothers me.
Hi ho the dario, lethargy is for me!
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An Ominous Admission [Mar. 24th, 2009|05:42 pm]
Dear Friends,

I now twitter. I know this may be upsetting for some, and I may lose friendships as a result of this relentless self-indulgence, but I just wanted you all to know the truth. Thank you for your understanding and compassion.

Twitterfully yours,

Shane
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Robot Creation Stories [Feb. 16th, 2009|08:23 pm]

My girlfriend really likes stop motion animation, so I made her this video for valentine's day.
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Represent [Feb. 12th, 2009|07:18 pm]
It's been a while since I made some t-shirts, but the time has come.







My friend says she's going to represent at UCLA. I'm going to represent here at UCD.
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Heh, math joke [Feb. 10th, 2009|07:35 pm]
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Quotable [Feb. 7th, 2009|01:47 am]
"Human interaction is a permanent screeching automobile accident."
-Scott McCluen
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