Archive of entries posted on 1st May 2019

Link of the Day: Gird Your Loins, These Are Dangerous Times

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[High Praise! to The Babylon Bee]

Man In Critical Condition After Hearing Slightly Differing Viewpoint

BONUS LINK:

[Submitted by Drake’s Place (High Praise!)]

The speech Mark Zuckerberg SHOULD have made

Think you have a link that’s IMAO-worthy? Send it to harvolson@gmail.com. If I use your link, you will receive High Praise! (assuming you remember to put your name in the email)]

Facebook to Improve User Privacy by Not Selling Your Data to Ukrainian Identity Pirates If You Opt out by Using the Procedure Clearly Described Somewhere in the Middle of Facebook’s 208-Page ‘Terms of Service’ Agreement That You Just Scrolled to the Bottom of And Clicked ‘Agree’ To

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“If you’re not paying for it, you’re not the customer; you’re the product being sold.”

MENLO PARK (AP) – In reaction to strong criticism from privacy advocates, Facebook, Inc. CEO Mark Zuckerberg announced a new plan that will be respectful of patron’s personally-identifiable confidential information and its security.

“In times past,” said Zuckerberg, “Facebook has taken a ‘lazy-fair‘ approach to privacy: we were lazy, and your data was fair game to any nerd with a keyboard who’d seen ‘Swordfish’. However, after receiving complaints from people who we’re not currently shadowbanning for wrongthink, the board of directors and I have chosen a different approach”.

“Step one: blame the security chief, kick him out, and don’t hire a new one. Step two: instead of spending money to plug the security holes, find a way to make money by creating our own security holes and charging a fee for people to put buckets under them. Step three: do the honorable thing and offer people an opt-out. Step four: if they can find it.”

“Now,” Zuckerberg continued, “as far as we know, EVERYONE reads and fully comprehends Facebook’s ‘Terms of Service’ agreement, as proven by the checked boxes at the bottom, so we put the opt-out in there. Near the front… upper… middlish… I forget exactly, but it’s there. It’s easier to find than Google’s, anyway. I think they hide theirs in their Doodle.”

Facebook CFO David Ebersman praised Zuckerberg’s innovative approach to privacy protection.

“We guarantee,” said Ebersman, “that your personal information is kept under cybernetic lock and key by some of the steadfastest guardians of data available on the planet. An unhackable group of professionals with a perfect track record of never having a single byte stolen from them. I can’t imagine anyone holding on tighter to your information than Ukranian identity pirates. You’re in good hands. Until they sell you to the Nigerians.”

“Of course, you could always opt out and keep your data for yourself,” concluded Ebersman, “but is that really wise? After all, you thought signing up for Facebook was a good idea. You obviously can’t be trusted to make good decisions.”

< New Dan Rather Memo Offers Indisputable Proof of Trump’s Russian Collusion

Random Thoughts: Voting from Prison and Sleepy Joe

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People act like voting is this uber-right you get to keep even after to lose all your others, and it’s not even technically a right. It’s more a compromise since the government reserves the ability to infringe our rights.
People have almost this worship of voting, when it’s really just this stupid hack we use to slow down dictatorships. In a perfect world, voting would be completely inconsequential (since your rights were never on the line) and no one would care about it.

This whole “rapists and murderers deserve a vote!” thing seems like some conspiracy to make Trump to look like the sane adult in the room.

You could tell some of the Democratic candidates wanted to say, “That’s nuts. You’re an idiot for even suggesting that” but you can’t anger the base. And they love being angry.

BTW, I’m fine with people out of prison getting voting rights… as long as it goes along with all other rights like gun rights in a package. If you’re afraid of someone exercising their other rights, then I’m afraid of them voting.

“We need to hunt down and find out who the Zodiac Killer is and secure his vote.”

Completely ignoring the great aesthetic, Cuphead is an excellent game. Supremely challenging, but it never feels cheap (except for the parry which I don’t always understand why it doesn’t work).
I also love the concept that it’s like all boss battles. There’s a few regular run and gun stages where you get coins to upgrade, but they actually feel like a bit of a chore compared to the boss battles that’s 80% of the game.

I didn’t care for the last 21 Marvel movies. Should I see Endgame?

5 jobs I’ve had:
1. Plumber
2. Space bounty hunter
3. Tomb raider
4. Hitman
5. Gorilla

When there is appallingly horrible on both sides, Biden might have success with a pitch portraying himself as mediocre.

Who cares about the cast announcement of a James Bond movie unless they’re casting a new James Bond?

It would be fascinating if they found a writer who has never seen a Marvel movie and got him to review Endgame.

Woke my daughter up this morning saying, “You have to get up and have breakfast. You’re going to the Alamo today.”
And she said, “I forgot about the Alamo!”
I feel like she was setting me up for a joke there.

“Hey! Remember the Alamo!”
8yo daughter stares at me blankly
“It’s… it’s a phrase.”

I feel like Trump is trying to be that guy from Seinfeld who told Elaine she has a big head. Everyone starts out going “That’s his insult? That’s it?” and then eventually everyone is freaking out at him.

I really enjoyed every single Marvel movie, so should I see Avengers: Endgame?

I really enjoyed the paintball episodes of the show Community; should I see Avengers: Endgame?

Man, completely forgot about we have a 3 month old baby. So even when we finally don’t have a weekend without tee ball/softball games, going with the wife to a 3 hour movie is still logistically very difficult.
No one spoil Endgame until it’s on video.

I’m trying to think how much someone like we would be willing to pay a studio to watch this movie once at home on its release weekend. $50, at least.

I want a block list that blocks anyone who put together any of those block lists.

My wife said I could go see it by myself, but I’m not going to watch some kid superhero movie by myself like some FREAK.
My 8yo said I should take her. She’s only see the first Iron Man on VidAngel; I wonder how well she’d follow.

People who say there was no scandals during the Obama administration are worse than Trump.

If the younger generation really got a bad deal and inherited a bad world with less opportunities, then why are they constantly screaming about piddling crap? Shouldn’t they have actual problems to take up their time?

Been at the kid’s ball field all day for three different games (helped coach in one) and to volunteer at the fajita fundraiser. All in 80+ degree weather. Legit Saturday.

Neglecting to criticize a politician is anti-American.
Praising one is full Communist.

Taxes on the rich transfer money from people who generally do useful things with it — rich people — to the people in the country who are the absolute worst with money — politicians.

Hey, no posting Game of Thrones spoilers for the next 30 years for those of us still waiting on the books.

Avatar holds the record for highest worldwide gross. I’m still absolutely baffled by that.

It’s funny how Ralph Macchio in Cobra Kai is older than Pat Morita was in Karate Kid. One false note was at one point LaRusso gets disparagingly called “grandpa” but he looks like he’s in his 30s.
I’m not liking the 2nd season of Cobra Kai quite as much as the first. I think part of that is the larger focus on Robby and Sam. There’s just something about Robby I really don’t like (can’t place my finger on it), and Sam is boring.
What I do like about the show is it’s not clear who you’re supposed to be rooting for. And Johnny Lawrence is quite the hero for this age. He’s trying to atone for his toxic past but is still very much against being a “pussy” — as he puts it.

There does seem something particularly wrong about a continual tax on something that doesn’t generate revenue. That’s like the government compelling you to work if you want to keep your stuff.

“How dare you imply some of my own decisions led to my financial distress! It’s all because of vast outside forces! Vast outside forces!”

“Sorry, Elizabeth Warren, but I can’t pay the wealth tax on my diamonds, yachts, and Rembrandts because I lost them all in a boating accident.”

My solution to everything: A whine tax. A fine of one dollar every time someone whines. I expect it to raise $83 billion dollars. Less the next day as hopefully people wise up.

You may say the 1st Amendment doesn’t allow a fine for whining, but whining was not the speech the Founders intended when they wrote that amendment. Whining is assault speech.

Modern western civilization is all trying to solve the puzzle of whether there’s a way to get freedom without responsibility.

I forgot that Iron Man and The Dark Knight came out the same year. What a turning point for comic book movies. That’s the year we as a society agreed we’d pretend that superheros were serious characters and not just dumb things for children.
“We’re going to watch a man in a bat costume punching another guy in clown makeup and then try to act like it’s serious stuff. And then we’re going to watch this other film and try not to laugh as a guy in a cave somehow builds a robot suit. Everyone on board?”
“Remember to stay until after the credits.”

The deep question Jacob Wohl poses is whether you can be too dumb to grift.

Every day I do a lot of thinking and a lot of praying and I will not apologize.

If there is one thing you need to know about me it’s that there in fact five things you need to know about me.

That “Sleepy Joe” nickname for Biden seems pretty lame, but if he nods off in public just once…

Your fair share of someone else’s money is zero dollars. Anything higher than that is not fair.

The “Sleepy Joe” nickname is going to make it harder for Trump to later portray Biden as an extremist. Ever heard of a sleepy extremist? That doesn’t sound very threatening.

IMAO Behind The Scenes: Better Late Than Never

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At 6:03 AM, May 1, 2019, on the 4th floor of the IMAO headquarters building, Basil had one thought uppermost in his mind: “I really gotta go pee.”

But first, one last thing. He scanned the page of text that displayed on his old refurbished CRT monitor, his eyes following his finger as it passed over the screen one last time. Satisfied, he pressed ENTER.

Finally, it was done. And, it didn’t take all that long to finish the job. Did it?

He pushed his bent metal folding chair away from the “desk” — actually a stack of plywood sheets placed across some cement blocks — and made his way to the door of the 4th floor supply room. He had originally been in the ground floor supply room, but had managed to move up to the 4th floor after the waterline break and all the shuffling around from that.

Basil turned the knob and pulled. Light from the hall showed through. That was good news. The large stack of boxes that had been piled up against the door the previous day had finally been moved. He’d be able to walk the halls this morning. But first, the business at hand. He stepped into the mensroom next door.

As he finished up and walked to the sink, the door opened and Harvey walked in.

“Hey, Chief,” Basil said, greeting the office manager.

“Hey … you,” Harvey replied. He thought, I know this guy, right? He cleans up the breakroom maybe? Or keeps the drink machine filled? Perhaps he’s the parking attendant? Does he have a name badge? Can I look without looking and read his name?

“I think I’m done, Chief,” Basil said.

Harvey nodded, wondering why this strange man was giving a play by play on his hand washing.

Basil stood there, not moving. So, Harvey checked his shirt, looked at his hair, made sure his beard was well groomed. He had done all those things before leaving for work, but was doing them all again so that the drink machine guy or whoever he was would go ahead and leave the mensroom. But that was not to be.

“So, heading back to work, huh?” Harvey hinted. Then a thought hit him. Perhaps this guy was the mensroom attendant. What if…?

“Actually …” Basil began, then paused. He thought back to when it all started, so long ago…

At 9:09 PM, September 23, 2008, Frank J. scanned the page of text displaying on his flat-screen monitor. Satisfied, he pressed ENTER and the first official post of the new blog was published.

He looked at his watch. “Oooh, it’s after 8:00. I hope the Dairy Queen is still open. I want to get a Mister Misty!”

“I don’t think they sell those anymore,” Harvey said.

“But I want one.”

“I’ll tell Sarah that you want to go out for a special treat. How’s that?”

“Goody!” Frank J. said. To himself, Frank J. thought “Yeah, he probably thinks I’m just a kid, but I’m running the show here. I don’t mind playing the fool. As long as I get a Mr. Misty.”

Harvey stood up, “I’ll break the news to that new fellow. What’s his name?”

“I don’t know. You hired him,” Frank J. replied.

“I didn’t hire him. I thought you hired him.”

“Huh. We need to look into that. Oh, and remember to get my keys back from him when he’s done,” Frank J. replied.

There were enough bloggers on staff now. A good crew. A very good crew. “They’ll all be around for a while,” Frank thought. “Except that this Harvey. I don’t think I trust him. He’s hiding something behind that beard. I wonder if he’s wanted by the F.B.I. Maybe he’s a C.I.A. agent or something? I need to ask Harvey about that, since he’s the only one I can trust.”

“What’s that?” Harvey asked.

“Nothing. Just talking to myself,” Frank J. replied.

“I’m right here and I can hear you when you speak,” Harvey said.

“Not if I’m talking to myself. At least, not without a warrant. You got a warrant?”

Harvey walked out the door and looked around. That new kid — he was actually older than all of them — was around somewhere. If only he could remember his name. Harvey walked down the hallway, past the line of cubicles, most of them unoccupied as it was past regular hours.

He turned just past the media center and pressed the “down” button next to the elevator. He heard the machinery through the closed doors as the car approached. The one on the right or the one on the left? Harvey stepped to the right just as the light came on and the “ding” sounded from the door on the left.

Dammit!

The door opened and Harvey stepped in. He pressed the “G” button to head down to the ground floor where the servers were housed. As the door closed and the music started, Harvey hummed along.

Tall and tan and young and lovely
The girl from Ipanema goes walking and
When she passes, each one she passes goes…

Ding! The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Harvey stepped out and headed down the wide hallway. He could hear the clinking and clanking from the cafeteria behind him, and the low hum from the server room ahead.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a movement. Turning, he came fact to face and eye to eye with the new guy.

“Um. Your name’s, um, yeah …,” Harvey started.

“Basil,” said Basil.

“It’s not Basil?” Harvey asked? Then a thought hit him. Imagine somebody actually trying to write this down one day. How would someone write the difference between “Basil” that rhymes with “Hazel” from “Basil” that rhymes with “dazzle?” Oh, well. This guy won’t be around long enough for it to matter.

“Hey, Basil…”

“Basil”

“Whatever. Hey. Um, Frank just posted that the blog is live. The changeover is complete. So, um …” Harvey paused, not sure how best to tell this odd person that he needed to drop the keys off at the front desk on his way out.

Basil spoke first. “I saw that! That’s exciting!”

“Uh, yeah.”

“So, we ready to bring over the old posts?”

“What?”

“The old posts. The URL now points to the new blog. The old blog’s address has changed, and now people have to click a different link to get to the old posts from 2002 to, well, earlier today, right? We need to bring them in to the new blog. Are we ready to start that?” Basil asked.

“Um. Yeah. Um. Uh-huh. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I want you to get started on that right away. Mkay?”

“Sure thing, Chief,” Basil said as he started back to the server room.

“Oh, you need to get your equipment out of the server room. Set it up in, um … um … that room.” Harvey pointed to the small door between the restrooms and next to the water fountain.

Basil stopped and turned, looking at Harvey. He cocked his head slightly to one side. “The supply closet? Seriously?”

“Look, it’s just for now…”

Basil ran back towards Harvey. “I get my very own room? With boxes of Co-Colas, tater chips, and Snickers bars? Really? Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Harvey backed away slowly. “O-kay. Uh, you go ahead and get started. Let me know when you’re done.”

“Sure thing, Chief.”

Basil didn’t realize it, but that was 10 years, 7 months, and 9 days ago. He had copied over 10,160 posts and 173,772 comments. But a lot of those comments were spam. And a lot of those comments contained language that was …

“Actually what?” Harvey spoke, breaking the silence.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You said ‘Actually’ then you stopped, like you had gone into a flashback or something,” Harvey said.

“Oh, yeah. Well, I’ve finished up moving over the old posts and comments.”

Harvey blinked twice. “What are you talking about?”

Basil hesitated. “You remember when we launched the new blog?”

“That was 10, 10-1/2 years ago. What of it?”

“You told me to bring over the old posts and comments,” Basil said.

Harvey paused again. “You haven’t finished that yet?” He shook his head and walked out the door, turning down the hall to his office.

Basil followed behind. “It’s done now, Chief.”

“Did you clean out all the spam?”

“Uh, yeah? Maybe? I think?”

“Did you clean up the language? Some of those early comments contained the F-word,” Harvey said.

“Flapjacks? We call them pancakes in Georgia. I didn’t see them mentioned.”

Harvey sighed. “Did you make the comments PG-13? We’ve got a standard to maintain,” Harvey explained.

“Yeah, they’re all good now. Maybe. Most of them. A lot of them. Some of them. But there aren’t a lot of naughty words. I mean, I took out all the bad ones I knew. So, you won’t find any posts containing …” Basil paused, leaned in, and whispered, “… booger.”

“Okay, good job. And it only took you 10 years, huh?” Harvey arrived at his office, opened the door and the light came on. He stepped over to his desk and looked back at the door. Basil was standing right there.

Basil spoke, “You’re welcome. Oh, and are we going to announce to the readers that the old posts are there?”

Harvey hesitated, “It’s not really that big of a deal. It’s been 10 years. Most of the stuff from those days will contain outdated references. Nobody is really going to care.”

It suddenly hit Basil. “Wait. What? 10 years? I’ve been in that supply closet for 10 years?”

“Seems that way. Well, you did come out to keep the drink and snack machines stocked, but apart from that, yeah, I suppose you’be been in there all this time. Hmmm.”

Basil thought for a minute. “So the election is over? Did McCain win?”

“You need to sit down.”

“Well, anyway, that Obama clown said he was bringing the troops home from the Middle East. So that happened, right?”

“You need to sit down.”

“Did Fred Thompson run again?”

“You need to sit down.”

“Well, who won the last election?”

“You really need to sit down.”

Basil decided he didn’t want to ask any more questions that he probably didn’t want the answer to. “No, I just need to give you my invoice and pick up my check. Let’s see, that’s 8,873 days of work. Here you go.” Basil handed the invoice to his boss.

Harvey looked at the bottom line. “I need to sit down.”