Who the hell is this guy? This might help (wikipedia).  Don’t worry, I’ll wait until you get up to speed.

I had never heard of him until today when I read an entry over at geekinheels. The author there posted a quick little article about how she found a neat little web app that analyzes a sample of text and tells you what famous author you most write like. When she did it with her blog entries, it spat out Stephen King most often. This is what I got more than 50% of the time:

I write like
David Foster Wallace

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

I got a smattering of others, but apparently this David Foster Wallace character was quite influential. I feel like reading his stuff, but it might be kind of like masturbation at this point. Like discovering you’re actually a clone, finding your seed person, and making out with them or something.

Wait, what?

Homer Simpson Clone A: I love you Homer.
Homer Simpson Clone B: No, I love you, Homer.

Ame and I don’t live in a house just yet, but we still have neighbors. Technically, they’re fellow tenants of the “apartment community,” but it’s all the same really. Just like the general population, most people fall below the radar and go unnoticed and undetected, but there are those that grab your attention and sometimes you feel bad for not having paid a nickel first for staring. I usually catch these exhibits in their natural habitat while I’m walking the dog.

In the next building over, either there’s a new resident or someone has a new boyfriend. Whatever the case, someone is the too-proud-to-realize-they’re-ridiculous owner of a tricked out black SUV. Whenever they pull into the parking spot, they, presumably to corral their booty-call, honk their horn to signal their arrival. The most horrible, slightly off-key, and off-meter rendition of the most famous phrase from the theme music of The Godfather blasts the parking lot. It must be hilarious to play Speak Softly Love because they keep doing it again and again.

Then there’s Blue Mustang Guy. I’ve figured out he lives on the third floor of my building, but Blue Mustang Guy pays a little extra per month for a covered parking spot for his tuned-up early-model blue Ford Mustang. He is out there nearly every day, during the day, tinkering with it, adjusting it, revving it up, and, while I’ve never seen him do it but wouldn’t put it past him, rubbing it with a diaper. One of these days I’m going to leave a gift as if it were from the car itself on his doorstep or on the hood. What is the gift? One of those freaky muffler attachments you install on the exhaust pipe so you can have sex with your car.

Ame and I live in a pretty nice apartment complex too. I don’t get why we have these kinds of freaks – especially car nuts. We’re moving in the next coming weeks, so we won’t see these freaks anymore, but I have no doubt we’ll be seeing all new ones.

xkcd had a comic a long time ago; something to the effect of “I just can’t get passionate about copyright law.” It’s true, I tend to be pretty apathetic about the whole situation, but sometimes little things grab my attention.

For example, I believe the nightmare, What Happens in Vegas, released on DVD with “Digital Copy.” This promotional doohickey allows you to view the DVD on your digital media devices with very little hassle. I don’t know if the “Digital Copy” copy of the film is copy-protected or has other DRM schema associated with it, but the simple fact that studios are willing to provide a more… “volatile” (?) format for consumers is a step in the right direction.

I promised myself I’d keep this entry short, so I’ll cut to the chase: Even if the movie is terrible, I may be willing to purchase the DVD for the sole reason of supporting this practice.

“Physics is to math as sex is to masturbation.” – R. Feynman