Yo, ho ho

Mon, 20 Jun 2005 18:08:51 GMT

Thu, 16 Jun 2005 20:41:55 GMT

little bit of a reschedule:

Super-Ska/punk concert
Friday, July 8th at the Lebo Rec Center.
7-10
tickets $5
bands:
Hope on a Rope
CJ's Turtle
Skunk 11
and a special performance by Tim Kaye

Bands are subject to change. If a band for some reason does not show, no refunds!

Tue, 31 May 2005 21:03:05 GMT

Super-Ska/punk concert
Friday, July 15th at the Lebo Rec Center.
7-10
tickets $5
bands:
Hope on a Rope
CJ's Turtle
Bob and the Sagets

It'll be awesome. I promise!

Sat, 21 May 2005 05:03:46 GMT

After a job well done, Sergeant Smith and Corporal McGuinness skip merrily along the beach.

Mon, 16 May 2005 03:24:19 GMT

So, I got bored and took this from Iva.

Name: Dan
Birthday: April 5
Birthplace: LA
Current Location: Pittsburgh
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Black
Height: 5' 8"
Right Handed or Left Handed: right
Your Heritage: Italian, Lebanese, and everything from the British Isles
The Shoes You Wore Today: Vans
Your Weakness: Far too trusting sometimes
Your Fears: Anything having to do with testicles and pain
Your Perfect Pizza: Green Peppers, Mushrooms, Sausage, Tomato, maybe spinach if I'm in the mood
Goal You Would Like To Achieve This Year: Get Laid... No, wait, that's bad... Get laid twice.
Your Most Overused Phrase On an instant messenger: LOL, ic, !!!1!!!!!1!!
Thoughts First Waking Up: Too damn early...
Your Best Physical Feature: Happy trail
Your Bedtime: I still don't know if a 5:30 in the morning exists.
Your Most Missed Memory: anything that happened in LA
Pepsi or Coke: Pepsi
MacDonalds or Burger King: The O
Single or Group Dates: Who cares?
Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea: Dude, Schneider's.
Chocolate or Vanilla: Vanilla
Cappuccino or Coffee: Fuck that.
Do you Smoke: Fuck No
Do you Swear: See above
Do you Sing: All the time
Do you Shower Daily: I make an honest attempt... sort of... not really.
Have you Been in Love: Uh, pass?
Do you want to go to College: Not especially
Do you want to get Married: Whatever
Do you belive in yourself: If I didn't know any better, I'd say this question is really gay.
Do you get Motion Sickness: No
Do you think you are Attractive: Only when my hair's straightened.
Are you a Health Freak: No way.
Do you get along with your Parents: Yes
Do you like Thunderstorms: I live for them
Do you play an Instrument: Guitar, armpit, air trumpet
In the past month have you Drank Alcohol: no
In the past month have you Smoked: no
In the past month have you been on Drugs: no
In the past month have you gone on a Date: Yes indeedy
In the past month have you gone to a Mall: No, and damn proud
In the past month have you eaten a box of Oreos: no
In the past month have you eaten Sushi: no
In the past month have you been on Stage: I wish
In the past month have you been Dumped: Arg...
In the past month have you gone Skinny Dipping: No
In the past month have you Stolen Anything: Yeah
Ever been Drunk: No
Ever been called a Tease: No
Ever been Beaten up: Yeah, a lot in elementary school and a couple times in Middle school
Ever Shoplifted: Yeah, mostly just pops, though. Sometimes Iced tea
How do you want to Die: With a bang. Possibly with a hooker or from falling off of something really tall with dynamite strapped to my chest like a true Lebanese Terrorist!
What do you want to be when you Grow Up: Freelance writer/Short story author. Maybe write a novel.
What country would you most like to Visit: Sicily
In a Boy/Girl..
Favourite Eye Color: guy: Blue girl: Green
Favourite Hair Color: guy:dark girl:doesn't matter
Short or Long Hair: both: long
Height: guy: tall girl: short
Weight: As long as they're not shirt-bursting fat, it's all good
Best Clothing Style: None. As in, no clothes.
Number of Drugs I have taken: None
Number of CDs I own: 20 some. I Download, mostly. Fuck the music industry.
Number of Piercings: 0
Number of Tattoos: lemme count... oh, wait, 0.
Number of things in my Past I Regret: Not getting a piercing or a tattoo.

-JackJack&Jack

Sun, 15 May 2005 17:45:26 GMT

Hey, everyone. Do me a big favor and read the short story I posted on the 12th. I could use some feedback, because I want to expand on it despite the fact I already turned it in for credit. Just leave a comment and tell me what you think about it. Thanks.

-JackJack&Jack

Sat, 14 May 2005 02:42:58 GMT

Wow. Just fucking wow.

I went to The Shadow Lounge with Kyna today to see her friend's skapunk band play. There were 4 other bands there as well, and the whole venue was just great. I don't think I've danced that much before in my life. I met a few new people who are really cool, got a buncha phone numbers, and found out that there is a chalkboard in the men's bathroom that had a giant flower with a penis drawn on it. The whole night was just incredible, indescribable, really. I'll get back to you people on that tomorrow. My body hurts.

-The Management

Fri, 13 May 2005 00:46:04 GMT

Oh, and new layout.

Yohoho!

STOP THE PRESSES!

Fri, 13 May 2005 00:17:20 GMT

Check this shit out:

The Good, the Bad, and the Scurvy

Captain Logan perched himself atop the cabin of his cargo ship, The Branigan. His straggly brown hair was covered by a black bandana, and his tan, scar-scathed legs were concealed beneath a pair of ripped jeans. This day had been years in the making, and he was determined to carry on with his plans. The vessel before them was their target, a gigantic freight ship, filled to the brim with high-tech electronics, cars, and mechanical gear.
Logan stood up and looked at his crew scattered about the deck of The Branigan. “Boys, this is it!” His salty voice boomed loud enough to be heard the span of the ship. “This is the day we prove ourselves worthy of the title of Pirates! Today is the day we drag ourselves by the heels from the depths of the unknown, and ascend to join the notorious Blackbeard among the ranks of infamy! Today is our day! Now, kill the engines, raise the flag, and set off those flares! We can’t let this one get away!”
The crewmembers sent red fireballs of burning phosphorous into the sky. Logan kept his gaze focused on the freight ship a mile or so ahead of them. “Dante, send out a distress signal. Let them think we’re in trouble.”
“Ay, sir.” Dante pushed a button in the cabin which ran a loop of Morse code that spelled out “SOS.” Logan’s gaze didn’t budge. He waited, watching intently for even the slightest hint from his target. “C’mon… c’mon….” His professional air was quickly disintegrating as his body began to shake nervously. Is this really going to work? Are they really going to fall for it? “C’mon… just turn a little bit… just change your course, please… Dante! Any response from the target?”
“Nay, sir. The target has sent no reply yet.”
“Keep the channels open. I am not missing this opportunity!” Eyes aflame, Logan stayed glued to the target. He noticed a change in the vessel’s speed. Then, the ship began to slowly turn starboard, towards Logan.
“Sir! The target has replied!”
“Very good, Dante! I’ll man the radio from here!” Logan leapt from the top of the cabin, grabbed hold of a vertical pole, and swung around it flinging him back towards the cabin’s balcony. Barely clearing the guardrails, Logan landed on the balcony and bolted for the door. He slid to a halt in front of the radio and grabbed the receiver. “Mayday! Mayday! This is Captain Logan of the Branigan. Our ship is taking on water! We need assistance! Please help, over!”
The radio crackled to life, “Roger that, help is on its way. Just sit tight, over.”
Logan watched the target as it steered itself alongside his ship. “Alright, men! Conceal your weapons, here they come!”
Logan’s target dropped anchor about twelve feet off the port side of The Branigan. A man with a megaphone began yelling instructions at Logan and his crew from the bow above. “As soon as we drop the rope ladders, you may begin boarding! Please, board in an orderly fashion and keep calm.”
The rope ladders unfurled and landed with a thud on Logan’s deck. His men, some of the dirtiest, scruffiest looking sea dogs in the Pacific, climbed up the ladders one-by-one until they were all aboard the target vessel. Logan was the last one to board. “Where is your captain? I must speak with him privately.”
“He’s in his quarters below deck,” one of the vessel’s crew replied. “Shall I take you to him?”
“Yes, that would be most appreciated.” Logan and the crewmember walked down the stairs to the captain’s quarters, leaving the two crews to mingle on deck. Logan stepped inside the office and closed the door behind him. The crewmember waited outside the door.
“You must be the captain of The Branigan.”
“Yes, that I am, and let me say that I am most thankful for your assistance.” Logan looked about the room and slowly walked towards the captain’s desk with his hands behind his back. “This is a rather nice ship you got here, Cap’n.”
“Why, thank you. Cost me a fortune to obtain! Would you believe that…”
“Tell me though.” Logan walked behind the captain. “Would you be willing to die for it?” Logan drew a saber from underneath his coat and pressed the sharp edge against the captain’s throat. “I want you to tell your men to stand down and drop whatever weapons they might be carrying.” The captain breathed heavily and muttered something under his breath. “NOW!”
The captain fumbled with the microphone on his desk and spoke into it. “Men, it would appear as though things are not as they seem. The Branigan was never sinking, it was never in trouble. Please, drop your weapons and allow the crew of the Branigan to take whatever they want, and no one will get hurt.”
Logan swiped the microphone from the captain and spoke in a pirate drawl. “Argh, ye best be doin’ wut yer cap’n says, or else we be sendin’ ya down to Davey Jones’ locker. Yar-harharharharhar!”
A cheer rang out among the Branigan’s crew from above, and the clinking of metal clanking to the ground echoed throughout the hallways as the target’s crew dropped their guns on the ground.
“Now, cap’n, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll show me where the boiler room is located. Oh, and if you wouldn’t mind, send that man at the door to fetch me a padlock.”

“Captain, the contents of this ship have been transferred to the Branigan. Shall we set sail?”
“No, not yet, Dante. I still need to take care of the prisoners in the boiler room. I’ll be back up in a few minutes.” Logan slid down the banisters to the lower levels of the ship. He came to a door with a heavy padlock keeping it shut. He pulled a device from his pants pocket and fastened it to the padlock. He then inserted a small, white, waxy rod attached to a pair of wires that were anchored to the device into the keyhole of the padlock. He pressed a few buttons on the device and lit up the LCD screen. A blinking red 5:00 lit up Logan’s weathered face. He slammed on the metal door. “Attention captain and crew! I have wired the padlock on the outside of this door with a small plastic explosive. In five hours time, the explosive will detonate, destroying the lock mechanism inside the lock, thereby freeing you from your prison. Don’t bother reporting me or my crew to the authorities. My ship will be repainted, renamed, and new registry papers will be forged to avoid any kind of confrontation. You all have a nice day, now!”
Logan spun on his heels and walked away from the door. Behind him, the pounding of fists on steel banged away at his ears.

“And, that’s when you sailed off with their cargo?”
“Yeah… Yeah, that’s when we took off.” Logan peered at the damp concrete floor. “We thought we were on top of the world. We thought we were invincible. Do you have any idea how that feels?” Logan tilted his head upwards to look to the interrogator at the other end of the table.
“No.” The agent stared at Logan with a vacant expression, the wrinkles in his face intensified by the dim incandescent bulb hanging from the cement ceiling.
“…Oh.” Logan looked back down at the floor. “You know, orange never really was my color.” He tugged at his jumpsuit.
“Alright, after the cargo was secured and you took off, what did you do?”
“After that, we simply sailed to a port on a nearby island to auction off our supplies on the black market. Made a bundle off of that. Then, we set sail again.”

Logan looked over the new paintjob his crew had given his ship. The Branigan had undergone a complete metamorphosis. It’s green paint was replaced by red, and it’s name had been painted over and changed.
“Dante!”
“Yes, captain?” Dante swiveled on his heels on the makeshift scaffolding that lined the ship.
“The new name of the ship is ‘Sea Rex!’ There’s no ‘S’ in ‘Rex!”
Dante looked over his shoulder at the glaring spelling error he had made. “Dammit!”
Logan chuckled heartily. “Don’t worry about it Dante, just paint over it and try again.” Logan walked down the stairwell and went to his cabin to convene with his strategists.
“Well, what’ve ya got for me, boys?”
“We’ve caught word of a freighter setting sail from Hawaii. It’ll be sailing to Taiwan with some trading goods, no doubt very valuable to anyone in the black market.”
“Very good. When will we be able to intercept it?”
“About sixteen hours time, sir, right around here.” He drew a circle on the map in the sea nearly 300 miles west of Taiwan.
“Alright then, sixteen hours it is. Good work, boys. There’ll be a payday for you if this one’s as big as you tell me.” Logan motioned towards the door with his arm. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, gentlemen!”
“Aye, sir.” The men cleared out and shut the steel door behind them.
Logan sat at his desk and stared at the map infront of him. His finger followed the red circle drawn in the pacific, tingling with every inch it moved.
“Something doesn’t feel right.”

The sun was dropping below the horizon, casting warm shades of red and orange over the Pacific. Logan was standing on the bow, watching the sun rise. He checked his watch. 9:50. Thirty more minutes.
“Dante! Report status!”
“Aye, Captain. Speedboats deployed, each one equipped with grappling hooks, six men, and an assault rifle. Fifteen minutes until the target is in view and another fifteen minutes until target is within range. All preparations have been made, sir. We’re good to go.”
“Good work Dante. Let’s see if we can reel this one in.” Logan’s gaze shifted to the East, where a black silhouette blocked out a fraction of the sun. "Dante! Report! I need statistics! Nautical speed, size, estimated weight! Now!"
"Nautical speed, 22 knots. Estimated size, 100 meters. Estimated weight, 68,000 tons!”
“She’s a biggun, that’s for sure. Alright, men! Start your engines and get going! Dante, activate the radio jammer. We need to hit this one hard and fast.”

“Hold on. Radio jammers? How did you manage to get ahold of one of those?” The INTERPOL agent arched an eyebrow at Logan.
“Well, with the funds we got from selling all of our cargo from our first heist it was fairly easy to find that kind of equipment on the black market.”
“I see. So, you attacked this new target of yours. Then what?”
“See, we got the motor boats right up next to the ship without being detected.”

The crewmembers riding in the six speedboats hurled their grappling hooks onto the deck of the ship. With pistols harnessed on their sides and cutlasses between their teeth, they began to climb up the slimy steels sides of the ship. Once on board, the men found it all too easy to sneak past the sleeping crew of their prized target.
A pirate with a thick Jamaican accent turned to the rest of his crew. “You boys stay up on deck and make sure they don’t wake up, now. I’ll go below and find da cargo hold, see just what exactly we be dealin’ with. Johnny, you be comin down wit me.”
Johnny and the Jamaican snuck down the stairs and to the cargo hold just as the sun finished its descent.
“Johnny, you get your rude self up on top of dose containers and open one up for me, now. Don’t be takin too long, mon. Dey could be awakin’ any minute!”
Johnny clambered to the top of a stack of containers. Upon opening the doors, he peered down inside the container.
“It’s too dark to see inside them. Hold on, let me whip out my flashlight.” Johnny patted around his belt until he found his flashlight strapped to his right side. He fumbled with it for a bit until he finally got it free from its holster. He turned it on and nearly fell off the stack. “Oh, sweet Jesus, we’re in deep shit here!”
“Why? What you be seein’, mon?”
“I’m calling Logan, we need to get out of here now!”

On the deck of the Sea Rex, Logan was pacing back and forth.
“What the hell’s taking them so long? They should have taken control of the ship by now!” Logan’s walky-talky crackled.
“Captain, we’re in way over our heads!”
Logan snatched the radio from his belt and held it up to his mouth. “What the hell are you talking about? What do you mean ‘way over our heads?’”
“Sir, the cargo… it’s… Jesus Christ sir, I can’t believe this.”
“Johnny, tell me what the fuck is in those crates! Tell me NOW!”
“Weapons, sir. M16s, rocket launchers, missile guidance systems, and even the god damn missiles to go with them!”
Logan pulled the radio away from his mouth. He stared at the receiver with greater clarity than he had ever seen anything before. This was it, he thought. This is my day.
“Sir? Sir? You still there?” Johnny’s voice was trembling.
“That’s a negative on the retreat, Johnny.” Logan’s face split in two with a mischevious grin. “Continue with the mission as planned. We’re never going to have to work for anything ever again!”
Johnny put the radio back in his belt. “W-w-w…well. You heard the captain… Let’s… commandeer this… thing.” Johnny sauntered back to the deck and broke the news to the crew. They exchanged looks of mixed emotions. Fear, anxiousness, greed, and grief were a few among the many that made up the sea of faces.
“Well, let’s get to work, I guess.”
Johnny and the Jamaican began to circle around the deck of the ship, their trembling hands clutching .45 caliber pistols.
“I don’t like da feelin uv dis, mon. This ain’t feelin right to me.”
“I hear ya, but you heard the cap’n. We ain’t leaving till we g-g-get the c-c-c-cargo…” Johnny swallowed hard. For a minute, he wondered what he’d be doing right now if he had become a dentist like his parents wanted him to.
“Look, mon! Ova dere!” The Jamaican pointed at a guard. “Keep quiet, mon… Ya might be rilin him if you don’t watch ya step, round here.”
“Right… Oh, Jesus… just get me through this one night, please please pl-SHIT!” Johnny’s gun slipped from his hand and clattered to the ground. The sleeping guard stirred and raised the bill of his helmet. He slowly yawned and stretched. His eyes opened, but his vision was still a bit blurred.
“Hey, wh-what’s going on here? You guys awake already?”
The Jamaican’s nervous finger pulled a trigger, and a gunshot roared across the deck of the ship, silencing the guard for good. The rest of the sleeping crew started and jumped up from where they were sitting.
“Shit! Pirates! Men, fire!”

“Oh, Jesus! Cap’n, look!”
Logan swiveled on his heels and gawked at the view before him. Gunflares illuminated the deck of the target ship. He watched in disbelief and terror as the spears of light brought down his crewmembers. Just as suddenly as it had all started, it was over. His crew was dead. All that was left was himself and Dante.
“Sir, what do we do now? We can’t steer this ship alone!”
“Doesn’t seem like there’s much we can do. All of the speedboats are floating next to our target. Even if we did get ahold of one of those, there’d be no way it would have enough fuel to make it to shore.”
“So, what are you suggesting, captain?”
“I’m suggesting that we just sit and wait.” Logan watched as the target vessel steered portside and turned towards the Sea Rex. Logan sat down, closed his eyes, and thought.

“And that’s when the military boarded your ship and arrested you?”
“Yeah, that’d be right. The thing about those damn soldiers, they treat you so rough. I’ve still got bruises from them.”
“Well, Mr…”
“Captain.”
“Well, Captain Logan, thank you for sharing your tale with me. You’re trial should be held within the next month or so. In the mean time, you are to remain in a cell within the complex. I hope you have learned a lesson from all of this.”
“Oh I have, sir, no doubt about that.” Logan’s lips stretched into an innocent smile. “I have the feeling I’m gonna be here for a loooong time.” Logan fingered the small device hidden underneath his bright orange jumpsuit. A bright red five blinked on the device’s LCD screen.

My masterpiece... Enjoy.

-The Management

Thu, 05 May 2005 03:02:44 GMT

I think today was my shining moment in John Don's class.

He asked how the Americans defeat the Japanese in WWII, expecting a response from a sane student with insight.

Not what he got.

What he did get was the sound of me whistling while making a spiraling hand motion downwards, followed by an explosion sound effect accompanied by my hands stretching out as though something had combusted inbetween them.

Everyone stared at me for a few seconds. And then they laughed. "Yeah, that about covers it."

Wed, 04 May 2005 01:57:59 GMT

Anarchism > Nihlism.

Look them up. There's a difference.

Sat, 30 Apr 2005 21:46:04 GMT

First off, I'd just like to say:
Fuck.

Second off, take this quiz: http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/shows/assault/etc/quiz.html

Mon, 25 Apr 2005 03:41:39 GMT

Who stole the money from the house fund?
Was it the coconut man?
FUCK THE COCONUT MAN!

Wed, 20 Apr 2005 00:01:10 GMT

The world needs some new philosophers. With all of our big achievements in conquest, technology, and other things that drive people farther apart, wouldn't it be nice to just have this new breakthrough philosophy like Confucionism or something to bring people back together?

Oh, and those shitty little quotes people come up with that say things like "Love is better than anything in the world! Teehee, I'm a cutesy turdface!" don't count.

-The Management

Mon, 18 Apr 2005 21:06:22 GMT

Well, I decided to buy some athletic shoes yesterday under the pretense that they be made in America, thereby avoiding sweatshop manufacturing and other unethical labor. So, I went with New Balance. They were the only company I could find that manufactured their shoes in the US. I searched on Google for "Shoes and Sweatshop" to see if I could find any other companies that manufactured in the US. Here's the first thing I clicked on:
Nike now lets you personalize your shoes by submitting a word or
phrase which they stitch onto your shoes, under the swoosh.
So Jonah Peretti filled out the form and sent them $50 to stitch
SWEATSHOP onto his shoes.
Here's the response he got...

From: Personalize, NIKE iD < nikeid_personalize@nike.com
To: Jonah H. Peretti < peretti@media.mit.edu Subject:
RE: Your NIKE iD order o16468000

Your NIKE iD order was canceled for one or more of the following
reasons:

1) Your Personal iD contains another party's trademark or other
intellectual property
2) Your Personal iD contains the name of an athlete or team we
Do not have the legal right to use
3) Your Personal iD was left blank. Did you not want any
personalization?
4) Your Personal iD contains profanity or inappropriate slang,
And besides, your mother would slap us.

If you wish to reorder your NIKE iD product with a new
personalization please visit us again at www.nike.com

Thank you, NIKE iD

From: Jonah H. Peretti < peretti@media.mit.edu
To: Personalize, NIKE iD" < nikeid_personalize@nike.com
Subject: RE: Your NIKE iD order o16468000

Greetings,

My order was canceled but my personal NIKE iD does not violate
any of the criteria outlined in your message. The Personal iD
on my Custom ZOOM XC USA running shoes was the word "sweatshop."
Sweatshop is not:

1) another's party's trademark,
2) the name of an athlete,
3) blank, or
4) profanity.

I chose the iD because I wanted to remember the toil and labor
Of the children that made my shoes. Could you please ship them
to me immediately.

Thanks and Happy New Year, Jonah Peretti

From: Personalize, NIKE iD < nikeid_personalize@nike.com
To: Jonah H. Peretti < peretti@media.mit.edu
Subject: RE: Your NIKE iD order o16468000

Dear NIKE iD Customer,

Your NIKE iD order was cancelled because the iD you have
Chosen contains, as stated in the previous e-mail
correspondence, "inappropriate slang". If you wish to reorder
your NIKE iD product with a new personalization please visit
us again at nike.com

Thank you, NIKE iD

From: Jonah H. Peretti < peretti@media.mit.edu
To: Personalize, NIKE iD < nikeid_personalize@nike.com
Subject: RE: Your NIKE iD order o16468000

Dear NIKE iD,

Thank you for your quick response to my inquiry about my custm
ZOOM XC USA running shoes. Although I commend you for your
prompt customer service, I disagree with the claim that my
personal iD was inappropriate slang. After consulting Webster's
Dictionary, I discovered that "sweatshop" is in fact part of
standard English, and not slang. The word means: "a shop or
factory in which workers are employed for long hours at low
Wages and under unhealthy conditions" and its origin dates from
1892.

So my personal iD does meet the criteria detailed in your first
email. Your web site advertises that the NIKE iD program is
"about freedom to choose and freedom to express who you are."
I share Nike's love of freedom and personal expression. The site
also says that "If you want it done right...build it yourself."
I was thrilled to be able to build my own shoes, and my personal
iD was offered as a small token of appreciation for the sweatshop
workers poised to help me realize my vision. I hope that you
will value my freedom of expression and reconsider your decision
to reject my order.

Thank you, Jonah Peretti

From: Personalize, NIKE iD < nikeid_personalize@nike.com
To: Jonah H. Peretti < peretti@media.mit.edu
Subject: RE: Your NIKE iD order o16468000

Dear NIKE iD Customer,

Regarding the rules for personalization it also states on the
NIKE ID website that "Nike reserves the right to cancel any
personal iD up to 24 hours after it has been submitted".

In addition, it further explains: "While we honor most personal
iDs, we cannot honor every one. Some may be (or contain)
other's trademarks, or the names of certain professional sports
teams, athletes or celebrities that Nike does not have the
right to use. Others may contain material that we consider
inappropriate or simply do not want to place on our products.

Unfortunately, at times this obliges us to decline personal iDs
that may otherwise seem unobjectionable. In any event, we will
let you know if we decline your personal iD, and we will offer
you the chance to submit another." With these rules in mind,
we cannot accept your order as submitted. If you wish to
reorder your NIKE iD product with a new personalization please
visit us again at www.nike.com

Thank you, NIKE iD

From: Jonah H. Peretti < peretti@media.mit.edu
To: Personalize, NIKE iD < nikeid_personalize@nike.com
Subject: RE: Your NIKE iD order o16468000

Dear NIKE iD,

Thank you for the time and energy you have spent on my request.
I have decided to order the shoes with a different iD, but I
would like to make one small request. Could you please send me
a color snapshot of the ten-year-old Vietnamese girl who makes
my shoes?

Thanks, Jonah Peretti

I thought that was kind of interesting. Nike really doesn't want people becoming aware of what they do. People say "Yeah, I know they're made in sweatshops, so what?" usually don't know just how horrible it actually is in one of them.

If you think about it, if Nike is somehow able to pay over a billion dollars a year on advertising, hiring celebrities such as Michael Jordan, Mia Hamm, and others for endorsements, you'd think they could afford to pay their manufacturers in Vietnam and China a little more than $1.50 an hour?

-The Management

Sat, 09 Apr 2005 03:01:55 GMT

I believe a huge thank you needs to be given to the following individuals for the most out of nowhere surprise party ever!
Iva
Specter
Desa
Rachie Girl
Jamie
Grace
and Derek.

Thank you guys so much, that just made my week!

Fri, 08 Apr 2005 02:49:09 GMT

Wow, I haven't updated in forEVER. I've had 2 people (one threatened to castrate me) remind me to update this week, so what the hell?

It was my bday on Tuesday, for all you ignorant shits who didn't know that or just forgot. That was pretty cool. Iva surprised me by decorating my locker (while I was there) and stuffed it with confetti, a hair straightener, and the DVD for Cannibal! The Musical, the greatest movie EVER!

Desa baked me some brownies and surprised me later that night. Oh, wouldn't you like to know?

And then I got multiple "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" greetings from every which way. So that was a good day.

The Friday before that was when CIT weekend began. I had everything packed, and was ready to go. I popped open the trunk of my dad's car, and what did I find? A brand new Ovation acoustic-electric guitar! I nearly shit myself. Mom wanted me to be able to take it with me to KoK (kon-o-kwee) as an early bday present so I wouldn't be bored.... Like that could happen.

CIT weekend rocked. I was in the same group as Bobby Fucking Allan and Rachie girl. We had to carry giant-ass logs and put place them in the way of big hydraulic powered wedges that would split the wood. It was actually a lot of fun. Every once in awhile, a log would explode because the center of it was occupied by an ant colony. It was really cool. During the downtime, we chilled out around the lodge (which guys and girls shared, different rooms though) and just acted a damn fool all day long. It was great. KOK-LOVERS FOR LIFE!

So a lot has happened since my last update in March. Sorry I've been out of it. I'll get back in the habit of updating soon. Until then, catch you kids later.

-The Management

Fri, 25 Mar 2005 01:44:18 GMT

Ruthie, Me, Dave, and some guy in a wheelchair who really enjoyed himself in the dance circle.

-The Management

Wed, 23 Mar 2005 04:55:31 GMT

For everyone who hasn't heard of the AYB phenomenon, this is what happens when babelfish and other online translators are used recklessly!

Wed, 23 Mar 2005 00:50:18 GMT

Well, I got a reply from the company I got Pandora from on Ebay. Here it is:

Hi Daniel. I am very sorry about the problems with the guitar. I thought the strings were kind of high myself but I don't know enough about guitars to know any better. I'm surprised about the neck being warped. To the naked eye it looks fine. Let me talk to the Seller and see if he'll refund it. He brings us a lot of stuff to sell and I'll highly recommend that he take care of this. We sell things for other people on ebay and rely heavily on the information they give for the items we list for them. He's a very old friendly gentleman and I'm sure we can work something out. Don't worry. I know it's a lot of money for you and I would hate to see you get a raw deal. Give me a few days to see what we can work out.

Sincerely,
John
Auctionup

That is the nicest business E-mail ever. And I've dealt with some asshole businesses in my day...

-The Management

Fuck.

Tue, 22 Mar 2005 02:24:06 GMT

Pandora's unfixable.

Apparently, she's from an era when the Japanese would copy American guitar=building techniques, but not mix them together correctly. IE, a bolt-on neck should never be combined with a hollow bodied guitar. Which is what happened with mine. There wasn't enough support to keep it together, so the neck got fucked up along with the guitar (which is made out of fucking plywood. God damn you, Japs! Wasn't Pearl Harbor enough!?!?!), and now Pandora is beyond any kind of practical repair techniques.

Fuck and double fuck.

-The Management

Mon, 21 Mar 2005 05:21:06 GMT

I haven't updated in awhile.

Eh, your loss.

-The Management

PS Anyone have some sort of a remedy for grogginess from sleeping too hard? (Yes, hard. Not long.)

Sun, 13 Mar 2005 06:34:32 GMT

Fuck an A.

I am one lucky son of a bitch.

Sat, 12 Mar 2005 03:15:52 GMT

Today was nice, but nothing at all as I had planned.

Sorry I didn't come to the Den. Wasn't really in the mood.

First Guitar Lesson in Forever!

Fri, 11 Mar 2005 04:45:32 GMT

It's been 3 years since I've had a lesson with RJ. I called him earlier this week and asked if he could take me back as a student. He said he didn't have any openings, but he'd let me know whenever someone cancelled. My first lesson with him was today at 7:30. Since I had photo club today, I brought Pandora to school with me. After school, I took her to photo club, left her in there for awhile, and wandered around the school with Desa, Rachie, and Grace for awhile. After they all left, I went into the SS lab and played for awhile and practiced on my own. Some kids came in and asked me about Dora and if I was recording anything. So not only is Pandora and amazing instrument, she's a great conversation piece.

So, after that, I went to Mineo's with Pandora in tow. It felt really cool carrying a guitar around with me. Kind of like the Beatles on the cover of Abbey Road. I arrived at Mineo's and ate the worst cheese steak of my life. Do NOT order those things from Mineo's. I chilled there for awhile and talked to Lee and a couple of his friends who were with him. At around 7:20 I walked over to RJ's studio room thingy and waited in the waiting room. I played with Pandora a bit. RJ wrapped up his lesson with his other student and let me in. The first thing he said was "Wow, where did you get that guitar?" hehe, that made me happy. I told him the story about how I got her and everything before we got down to business. I showed him the tabs for Crash and showed him the rhythm for it, and he helped me out with the fingering. He also gave me some chord progressions to follow on my own this weekend so I can learn how to play chords and memorize them. I then borrow his Telecaster for a moment to show him the Super Mario Brothers theme, which really impressed him. He told me he was impressed with my progress and that we're going to get to more fun/difficult stuff on Monday at 7. All in all, today was great. Tomorrow, Desa's coming over and then we're heading to the Den together. That should wrap up the week just nice.

-The Management