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I be the analog arsonist.: .posted by ben on Dec 8 at 18:23

My words flow like lightning.
My math skills are frightening.
I iterate up and down on your ass,
taking the modulus base pi of your whole damn class.
I use logic of Goedel so complete,
you can't compete.
I turn it out, and prove you incomplete.
I quantify existentially, 
make you feel my wisdom universally.
You can't follow me?
Don't swallow it, be.
You need to think,
listen while I say: link a dink dink.
My skills are in morphology
I can show you a new topology.
I'll tie you in a horrid knot,
until you feel your blood begin to clot,
then Reidmeister your sorry ass.
You can't challenge my class.
Erdos went mad,
but I'm like Wolfram, glad.
I code better than he ever had.
While Erdos was downing a methamphetamine,
I evolved bacteria using streptomycine.
Understand the ganglion,
the truth of the automaton.
I know the game of life,
what Conway said: strife.
Follow this logical implication,
without simplification:
My proposition is something,
the calculus is nothing.
I built my analysis,
crushing weak catharsis,
formed the axioms of arithmetic.
No, this is not a trick.
Zermelo and Frankel needed choice,
but they never heard my voice.
From Mycielski I got determinateness,
now it's all mathematic bliss.
Turing wished he had a mind like mine, whirring.
I reveal the world as it is, a machine with code,
bit shift this to supervisor mode:
I code the Java,
drink the java,
rhyming hot lava.
I write Perl,
like a whirl.
Just don't try to tell me about matlab.
I'll show you my computer lab.
See me work mathematica,
leave you saying: "!que simpatica!"
I bet you wish your server could bind like mine,
your's grinds, says: "i'm fine."
You think you're such a bad ass with your Redhat.
I'll take you down a notch with the stupid bat.
Open BSD is the place to be.
You can never outpace me.
Watch me Kerberize, 
wishing you could only theorize.
But, I have it all,
even after the fall.
When all my hardware's finally fried,
after the entire earth has died,
when there's nothing but entropy,
and sad solophistory,
my mind with be there dicating set theory,
and saying, "this is homeoptopy."
Touch my mind,
and i think you'll find,
your genius with genus,
aleph null to the aleph null.
Like Jethro Tull,
I've got locomotive breath.
Sadly, genius brings death.
They're so many holes in your logic, they form a new class.
Staple that right on you ass.
I'm always defying.
You're just crying:
"It isn't fair,
this can't be isotopic to the square."
My lobes form a perfect pair,
scheming in my computer lair,
as I wield
the universal field
theory,
11 dimensional hyper gravity.
I widow Widrow.
My copper sulfate
forms a new hydrate,
bonding to the graphite rod,
knowing the mind of god.
My neural network
runs like clockwork.
My genetic algorithm
orchestrates a new rhythm.
Out of supervisor mode,
I'll give you a chance, with user code.
My Algol is bugless,
my Cobol'll leave you mugless.
I fill it with coffee, 
and flavor lightly with toffee,
until the caffeine jolt
hits me like a lightning bolt.
I code from a single finger,
my mind can't linger.
Chording against the  Monglol hoard,
I simulate a Samarai sword.
While the fools smoke their cheap hash,
I orchestrate a system wide snow crash.
I try to give the weak minded latitude,
but they show no gratitude.
My IQ's greater by 10 orders of magnitude.
I'll leave you time to think up a weak platitude.

And Josh thinks I should become a Jew...: .posted by ben on Dec 6 at 16:29

Genesis 38:1-10 (KJV)

1 And it came to pass at that time, that Judah went down from his brethren, and turned in to a certain Adullamite, whose name was Hirah.
2 And Judah saw there a daughter of a certain Canaanite, whose name was Shuah; and he took her, and went in unto her.
3 And she conceived, and bare a son; and he called his name Er.
4 And she conceived again, and bare a son; and she called his name Onan.
5 And she yet again conceived, and bare a son; and called his name Shelah: and he was at Chezib, when she bare him.
6 And Judah took a wife for Er his firstborn, whose name was Tamar.
7 And Er, Judah's firstborn, was wicked in the sight of the Lord; and the Lord slew him.
8 And Judah said unto Onan, Go in unto thy brother's wife, and marry her, and raise up seed to thy brother.
9 And Onan knew that the seed should not be his; and it came to pass, when he went in unto his brother's wife, that he spilled it on the ground, lest that he should give seed to his brother.
10 And the thing which he did displeased the Lord: wherefore he slew him also.
Socks was a stupid title.: .posted by ben on Dec 6 at 15:46

Post Adolescent Marginalia read it and weep... mostly weep... formerly known as socks.









Go, go Gobots: .posted by ben on Dec 6 at 14:26

I think I may have figured out why I bought a Porsche... I got two of these for Christmas one year... and I had to return one of them for some reason. I would have been happy to keep both. I think having this toy embedded a desire for a 911 in my mind at a young age.


I want to be the leader of a Mustang Ranch (with you).: .posted by ben on Dec 6 at 14:26

Lessons in how to piss people off... by Ben. Post a bunch of music that you don't own a copyright to. Why? Because there probably isn't even a copyright. This is currently my favorite CD. Anyone recognize the lead singer? Not many of you will.

Sweetland - God Bless LA - 01 - Intro.mp3
Sweetland - God Bless LA - 02 - Whats Your Name.mp3
Sweetland - God Bless LA - 03 - Copa Frostie.mp3
Sweetland - God Bless LA - 04 - Jaybird.mp3
Sweetland - God Bless LA - 05 - Ballad in E.mp3
Sweetland - God Bless LA - 06 - Mustang Ranch.mp3
Sweetland - God Bless LA - 07 - Trailer Park Girl.mp3
Sweetland - God Bless LA - 08 - Automatic Hearts.mp3
Sweetland - God Bless LA - 09 - Comedian.mp3
Sweetland - God Bless LA - 10 - Outro.mp3

mmmm Dekalog: .posted by ben on Dec 2 at 14:27

amazon.co.uk has The Dekalog on dvd. I just got both 1-5 and 6-10. Of course, they don't ship for "1-2 weeks," but soon... soon I will have them... and I will get to play them on my spiffy new CodeFree/Pioneer dvd player, which should be getting here today.


Electron Band Structure in Germanium, My Ass.: .posted by ben on Nov 27 at 15:04

I'm sitting in DIA... They have wireless access now, which is kind of cool.

I just found out the fucking geopgraphy requirement I've been trying to get waived isn't a core requirement. It's a fucking "MAPS deficiency," which means they don't think I took geography in high school. I hate the fucking bueracracy. I hate them all...

I hate stale pumpkin pie, and I hate my "contemporary societies" requirement.

I hate the joke that is airport security... I hate the fact that someone moderatly intelligent could blow the plane i'm going to be on to little bits. I hate the idea that the NSA might have a file on me.

But, most of all, I hate Carrie Muir, and Liz Jessup... the two bitches who don't ever want me to graduate.

I also find it disturbing that none of the women I know seem to believe in love. They seem to believe domestic squabbles, tedium, eventual misery and death are inevitable.


Visit the Mapparium: .posted by ben on Nov 23 at 23:28

"The morning of the fifth night Shukumar found another notice from the electric company in the mailbox. The line had been repaired ahead of schedule, it said. He was disappointed. He had planned on making shrimp malai for Shoba, but when he arrived at the store he didn't feel like cooking anymore. It wasn't the same, he thought, knowing that the lights wouldn't go out. In the store the shrimp looked gray and thin. The coconut milk tin was dusty and overpriced. Still, he bought them, along with a beeswax candle and two bottles of wine. "

-Interpreter of Maladies, Jhumpa Lahiri

It might be Kundera, if Kundera were written by a woman. A very attractive, intelligent woman, instead of a crochety bitter old man. His book, The Art of the Novel" is painfully boring... and pointless.

I like her stories. I wish she had more books. I wish she had a novel. It seems like people write short stories if they can't quite hold a novel together. I can't even hold a short story together... and I keep writing crappy little novellas (according to Bellow, shorter than a novel, longer than a short story, the difference is only length, Arthur C. Clarke agrees, for what little that's worth).

I wonder if there's anyone at CU like Lahiri. Anyone my age... seems unlikely somehow.


The Pain: .posted by ben on Nov 22 at 23:53

feel my pain... it will be your pain
Fuck the police and the 502: .posted by ben on Nov 20 at 15:57


I just saw a bumper sticker that made me angry: "Live free or do something else." I need to lighten up.
I wish I could write a novel.: .posted by ben on Nov 7 at 23:12

Shitty writing. You know you hate it. Now, come on, read Ben's sad swipe at Henry Miller, paraphrased from his own life... with anecdotes added that seemed interesting at the time. Now if only it were spell checked. Must install Word.


ogogogogo: .posted by ben on Nov 7 at 17:50

  I want one...  

 

 

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