Jeff and I broke the air-hockey puck at work yesterday. It is a somber air-hockeyless time.

It was a special lightweight triangular puck that was much more exciting to play with than the heavyweight round pucks. Bank shots become unpredictable and, truthfully, randomness is the spice of games.

The puck didn’t break immediately; it was something that occurred over a few days until the final break. We first noticed there was a problem when it sounded different. The way the table we play on is constructed, the goal “buckets” don’t retain the puck very well and, more often than not, the puck flies out of the retrieval hole across the room, rattling and bouncing all the way. We play so regularly, the sound it made as it bounced was just “the sound.” When that sound got low-pitched and hollow on one of its trips across the break room and upon examination, there was a faint crack in the plastic. Not much, but this was the beginning of the end.

We’re not the only two that lpay with this puck either, so when we found the puck yesterday, the sound was worse and there was also a seam in the sticker. The sticker was practically all that was holding it together. As we played, the sound got worse still until Jeff made a shot at my goal and it split in two pieces! The smaller chunk went right in my goal and the larger piece flew off the table.

“You get an eighth of a point! I’m counting it, but that’s all you get.” Jeff tried to protest, but I immediately fetched the larger piece and served it. He scored the rest of point and sent an email to our facilities manager:

Subject: Man Down

Tom,
        I regret to inform you that on this day during an intense match of skill and power we have suffered a casualty in the heat of battle.  I am uncertain of whom is to blame, but I will blame Steve as he is not composing the email and can not currently defend himself.

Tom is a great guy so he immediately came over and gave us hell for it. Jeff and I play nearly everyday at around the same time and Tom catches us in the break room often and jokingly tells us to get back to work. Hopefully that puck will get replaced soon – playing with those ordinary pucks is bland and not really fun.

Orignally posted 2006-02-11 on an old Livejournal account, Dave reminded me of this as he mentioned The Olympics in passing.

Not new content, but hey, content is content!

There are few things I like less than the Winter Olympics. Muppets come to mind, but that’s not the point. So much of “the games” are not sports. Subjectivity only goes so far, so why waste your life on a cheap piece of metal? Sure you get the respect of your peers, but on the whole, nobody really cares. But I digress; I now present to you my Not a Sport Extravaganza – Winter Olympics 2006 Edition!

• Biathalon – aka “Ski and Shoot”
  Not a sport. Yes, it has roots in survival, but shooting targets and moving to another location to shoot more targets is not a sport. It’s called target practice on a mountain in snow. The name biathalon is also the most undescriptive name for an event – I’m sorry, two events. It could really be anything. If the IOC made Fuck and Suck a sport for the games, it’d be called the biathalon too. People would show up with a gun and skis ready to go. They probably wouldn’t be turned away due to bonus points in “artistic interpretation.” Fuck the biathalon.
  Score: 2/10 (Extra points for having guns. Firearms are cool.)
• Bobsleigh – aka “Bobsled“ Fuckin’ Euros
  Not a sport. Going down an ice slide in cock-shaped fiberglass and lexan dildo for four is not a sport. Granted, it takes skill and teamwork to complete the course in record time, but so does group sex. I can go to a regulation bobsled course right now, put on some teflon coated scuba gear, and complete the run without any trouble. Bobsled is not a sport; it’s an amusement park ride. Fuck the Bobsled.
  Score: 0/10
• Curling
  Not a sport. Actually, wait… yes. It is a sport. The rules are fucked up because 500 years ago, poor Scottish people made them up when they should have been inside, making themselves busy not dying from the cold. I attribute hypothermia induced madness to this sport. A better sport though would be ice basketball. Imagine top-heavy basketball stars slipping all over the court. There would be all time low scoring games of 0-0 that would never end. Knowing Olympic-types though, Greenland would field dwarves and midgets and win all three medals by scoring any points at all against the other teams. Anyway, the ruling still stands: Fuck Curling.
  Score: 1/10 (It made me think of ice-basketball)
• Hockey
  A sport. Hockey Rules. Fuck you.
  Score: 9/10 (USA doesn’t win every time, but it’s still awesome)
• Luge
  Not a sport. In all its variations, from skeleton to two man luge – the manliest, I’m sorry… faggiest of all luges – it’s just the same as bobsled, except this time, the risk of serious injury goes up. It’s like someone stole the chassis from the teams’ bobsled and the judges were like, “fuck it, push ‘em down!” Better event: Standing Luge. Riders stand on their luge sled and must remain standing throughout the course. You win by standing the whole time – none of this kneeling shit – and staying alive. Skeleton Luge is suicidal. In regular luge, the rider looks down over his body, but in skeleton luge, the rider’s neck cranes upward. I’m just waiting to hear of a skeleton luge accident in which the descriptor “pez-dispenser” is used. Fuck the Luge.
  Score: 3/10 (Bloody decapitation can be entertaining – just ask the French! Also, Pez is yummy)
• Skating
  Not a sport. Anything where you can score more points for being artistic is a load of bullshit. From singles to doubles, it’s all about who can do more lutzs or axels in increasing difficulty. I can appreciate the technical aspects of skating; I certainly will never be able, or want to for that matter, to do the things these atheletes are capabale of doing. They are atheletes. It takes immense dicipline to perform with such precision and stamina, but for what? Just so Germany can give you a 9.4 instead of a 9.3? What if Germany’s judge having a bad day? He could totally screw Poland or France by invading their – wait… whatever. Fuck skating.
  Score: -5/10 (Bullshittery enhanced due to annoying whiners and 2002’s multiple medals. Negative score)
• Skiiing
  Two pieces of plastic + snow + mountain = fun. But not a sport. I have few words for this event, but imagine if you will an activity that will destroy your knees before your 40^th birthday: The moguls. How about one where you try to jump as far as possible down a mountain, risking shattered ankles and a smashed face? If that’s not to your taste, try the one that’s most like ice-skating: freestlye snowboarding. What the fuck? Who allowed snowboarding into the Olympics? Seriously, Halfpipe Snowboarding is an Olympic Event! Complete with Indy Nosebones and Tailgrabs! I expect a written apology on my desk, IOC. Fuck Skiing (and now apparently Snowboarding)
  Score: 2/10 (Serious injury can also be entertaining. If snowboarding’s in, I’m waiting for half-pipe skateboarding)

It’s fun to reminisce! Especially if it’s bitchy!

The Husk; that just rolled off the fingers like it was nothing. The Husk is the leftover remains of the planet after a global catastrophe. What is that catastrophe? Plague? Nuclear War? Zombies? It doesn’t matter. What matters is there’s not much left and you need to protect yourself from what’s out there. What fun does The Husk have in store for us survivors? Marauders, wild animals with little to eat themselves, whathaveyou.

Protect yourself! My choice of armor would be a simple almagamation of a bullet-proof vest and full motorcycle riding gear: jacket, padded leggings, pads, boots, the whole nine yards. Even better if I could snag a suit of SWAT gear, but I doubt that is easily procured.

Or, if I could buy or commission something from the Bear Suit Guy himself, Troy Hurtubis, that would be even better. I’ve mentioned him before I believe. He’s a talented guy with a knack for suits of armor that actually work! It’s surprising to me he is as unsuccessful as he is when his home-made suit of Space Marine -inspired armor effectively nullifies small-arms fire. It seems the people who matter are aware of his well-publicized doings, but aren’t doing anything. I can only speculate at this point.

The point is, get some armor and you’ll survive that much better that much longer. Fear The Husk! Long live The Husk!

…or something

Regarding the hard and fast DTV Transition today, /.user ObsessiveMathsFreak had this to say:

REPENT! Repent ye geeky sinners! For the end of days is upon ye!

Lo! As it is written, there shall befall a great and terrible calamity upon all the kin of the nerdy, and their most precious gadgets and devices shall be laid low by the machinations of the wicked! And they shall lament, and make agitated phone calls even in the early hours of the late morning!

And there shall be a great moaning as the geeky rise to diagnose the woes of their parents and uncles and aunts and cousins and neighbors and co-workers and friends and even children! Naught will your warnings save you as the wretched shall pay no need. And ye shall be swamped with piteous wails and whinges as the masses of humanity beat down thy doors and fill up they inboxes with useless protestations and opinions and heed not thy councils.

Thou shalt spend thy last days overseeing the procurement and installation of countless digital devices. Yea, in peoples very living rooms! And thou shalt be condemned to maintain and provide unpaid support for each and every one of these cheap and buggy imports till the end of thy unhappy life.

Repent geeky sinners! Give up thy sinful social ways and cast off thy connections to society, like the mathematicians and programmers of old! Give up thy internet and telephone connections and families and social life! Give up and repent, lest ye be danmed! REPENT!

Unapologetically stolen without permission from here in this discussion. Misspellings included!

Ame and I are hosting a Dungeons & Dragons game at our place with a bunch of people that I’ve known through the years – all from my alma mater. I’ve mentioned Chad and Bobby before, but Dave and Matt and their wives have joined in as well.

I haven’t played or DM’d in awhile, so it’s a lot of fun. I’m running a 4th edition home-brew campaign and so far, the players are really liking it. Ame started off as the Dungeon Master, but I have since taken over duties and made the campaign my own.

The first week, Ame and I thought Snickers would be a big butthole and get in the way. In reality, he caused the least amount of trouble and people spilled their drinks on the floor at least three times. Eris wanted nothing to do with the whole group and sulked in the furthest corner she could find.

Since then, it’s been hard to get people together due to real life getting in the way, even when we try to hold it on Saturday. So far Ame, Chad, and Dave and his wife Traci are the core members. Matt and his wife have since dropped, not because they don’t do D&D, but they’ve moved quite far away to be practical.

This last session though was a blast: Under cover of darkness, my players infiltrated (ala Rambo: First Blood Part 2) and torched the bandit camp west of town and discovered the trapped, secret vault of treasure. Chad’s character, a druid named Elgar, brazenly walked into the main building and threw a Molotov cocktail at the guards and caught them all on fire. As that fire quickly spread, Traci’s cleric, Sam, blocked the door and wailed on them as they vainly attempted to escape.  Ame (Orianna) and Dave (Lyfe) have just discovered the vault of treasure that I’ve yet to roll up. They should hope I roll well!

These characters and players (except Chad) are all still new, so this whole bit of adventure should push them over the top to level 2. I hope they don’t find the treasure disappointing though – they are level 1 still after all. It shouldn’t too bad though, they’re all gamers (except Traci), so they should understand a level 1 treasure might not be the best, but should only get better.