Asymptomatic

There must be intelligent life down here

Avast, ye intarweb lubbers!
August 26, 2005

Yes, I may talk the talk (see title), but sadly I’ve hung up my pirate hat and sold Polly. I haven’t gone a-pirating since the Grand Ol’ Days of Napster and KaZaA. No, kids, not the weak subscription-based rent-to-sorta-not-own “music service” that Napster has become; I’m talking about the original Napster, chock-full o’ music, full-version software, and pr0n - all free! - at the height of its glory. After it went down KaZaA was a fairly decent substitute, but it just wasn’t the same as the file-sharing network that I’d grown to love. Then, along came the mob RIAA, threatening to break my legs if I continued my evil file-sharing ways without giving them their protection money, and that was when  the Pearl went up for auction on eBay; after all, I didn’t want to end up with two peg legs…

Avast!

August 26, 2005

*sends up the Jolly Roger*put on an eyepatch*

I'll admit to it.  I am no innocent to computer piracy.  No angel am I.  A devil?  Perhaps not quite.  Maybe just a mere imp.  (;

I get these headaches...
August 26, 2005

Ugh. Today is not panning out as I expected.

I woke up with the terrible headache that I sometimes get when I wake up. I believe that this in itself isn't usual. Don't people usually take naps to rid themselves of headaches?

Just Imagine...
August 26, 2005

..the wind is in your hair, you can smell the salt in the air, you are riding the ocean waves. Travelling this route is something you've always done. You sell your cargo at one port and then buy some more with the profit you make. You are a merchant, plying your trade. It's an honourable life. Suddenly, out of no-where, you find yourself sailing into a fog bank. The dark whisps of mist crawl over you and you can hear nothing but the waves slapping against your hull echoing dulling back to you. The fog makes dark grey forms around you, changing smoothly like oil in water. One of the dark shapes catches your eye: something isn't right. As you squint to see better, the mystery solves itself, a blackend headmast rears out of the fog, she turns, revealing a row of cannons. The fag parts slightly and you can see the mast, and the ships flag, a grinning skull meets your eyes as the blood drains from your face: The Jolly Roger. Pirates! The techo-pirates are here, router in one hand, P2P network in another... as you stare into the pale grinning faces you realise that your whole livelihood is going to be destroyed. The horror... the horror...

Or so some people would have you believe.