Fear the Download

If we were like the Cylons, in that we downloaded to someplace when we died, someplace where all the other copies of us had to download, and then we all had to share each other's memories when we got reborn, you wouldn't always want to share the memories of the other copies of you, not the ones that had crappy lives.

And you'd probably want to move the Resurrection Ship out of range when an especially unappealing copy of you croaked, y'know, so that you wouldn't have to share its memories and have those memories become a part of you the next time you croaked.

Especially if you were like, a really cool copy of yourself, one who hadn't totally screwed up your job and made an ass of yourself and slept with a bunch of gross-ass human losers and whatever else you didn't want to remember 'cause it wasn't really you that did it heh.

"Dude, which one of me just farted."

Anyways I'm pretty sure all the different copies of you get to pick which memories they want when they get brought back to life, so you don't gotta have the memories of the crappy versions of you, but y'all know what that will end up like after a while, what with all the different versions of you checking to see how many "hits" their memories got, to see if they were popular or one of the crappy ones that nobody wanted to download.

And when you asked all the other versions of you "hey, remember that time I..." and they were all like, "uh, no..." you'd know you were one of the crappy ones.

And they couldn't even lie and say "uh, yah..." and try to change the subject quickly to get away with it 'cause you could always check out their memories later y'know just to see if they were lying about remembering something you remembered.

And then there'd be the other copies of you who picked the exact same memories as you, y'know, you guys who choose to only remember the most fashionable and trendy stuff, bunch of copy cats and posers, like chicks who wear the exact same thing to the party or whatever ahaha.

And then there'd be the totally punk-rock versions of you who all "tried to be different" in exactly the same ways and totally hated all the other versions of you, including all the other punk-rock versions of themselves who were copying them.

And then there'd be all the different Celebrity Versions of You that everybody was either a Memory Fan of or totally jealous of, y'know, the Ones of You who actually created all the memories you guys were stealing, the poor shmucks that'd have to hear all their own jokes repeated back to 'em over and over and over again AHAHA oh man thank Zeus I'm not a Cylon AHAHA what a hell-hole!

Battlefrat Galacticrap

I've been watching Battlestar Galactica from the beginning lately and there's one thing that's really bugging me about the show.

Its the way the Pilots treat "Chief" and all the super-genius "knuckledraggers" that fix their spaceships like second-class citizens.

I dunno what the hell that's all about, some kinda hollywood-hates-technology thingie, I guess.

All that crap where the pilots-officers are like blue-blooded knights and the mechanics are like peasants and stable-keepers or something just drives me crazy, theres no frakking way I'd let some pill-popping frat-brat get in my face and talk a bunch of shiz to me, man.

That's just like sending something back to a chef and demanding that he fix it or something ahaha.

"Hrrm, my life-support system is acting kinda weird... the air in here smells funny and what the heck is that noise..."

Plus its just dumb to think that any decent pilot wouldn't know everything damn little thing about their ships, like a hotrod mechanic wouldn't be fairly kickass at driving a hotrod, y'know?

The pilot-mechanic relationship is more from the NASCAR Hillbilly moonshine-running bootlegger end of the gene pool.

And even if you wanted to go all the way back to the Owning a Horse Makes You Royalty Times, and treat Husbandry as if it was Mechanics, and lay that on top of the science fiction theme, like they do with sword-n-sorcery on Star Wars, or Rome on Galactica, or western crap on Firefly, or Navy crap with Star Trek, the stablekeepers were the original Marshalls, the dudes who knew where everybody-who-was-worth-a-damn in town was, 'cause they had all our horses, they were the guys that could gather up a posse the quickest or whatever.

And the guys who take care of horses are probably way better at horse-riding than just about anybody else anyways, I mean, you don't get good at that junk without a serious appreciation for it.

I dunno, its really hard for me to empathize with the too-much-sugar-in-their-cereal entitlement crowd, I guess.

Maybe its some kinda escapism for fratkids who hate science or something, thinking they could be a kickass space-pilot, I dunno.

But its totally bugging me ahaha.

Urop

Y'know what's weird?

The way folks who learn European English always wanna make an "i" sound like an "e" in a word.

And then it's like, what do they do with all their E's, y'know?

I mean, if an "i" sounds like an "e", what the hell do you need E's for?

You could just get rid of 'em, right?

Yah, see, I dunno, they just hate E's or something.

Which is totally bizarre when you consider the word "Europe," I mean, that goddam word is positively crowded up with useless-ass E's heh.

It's like they got a lotta E's leftover so they just went ahead and stuck 'em silently on the front and end of everything to try to sneak 'em out the back door and get rid of some of 'em or something.

"Man! I hope nobody notices!"

"Dude y'know we could dump a lot of these Extra E's we got into our maps."

"Yah! Americans don't read maps haha."

Poor guys.

Revenge Against the Killer Robots

Uh, sir?

I don't think you can actually get revenge against the killer robots, y'know?

Well, 'cause like, killer robots, y'know, well, they don't have any feelings, sir.

Oh sure, killer robots are really good at trying super hard to kill us and everything and stuff, they really don't know any other way to do anything but try as hard as they're able to do whatever it was they were programmed to do, they totally kick our asses in that department, sir, they never need to sleep or have a smoke or rest or anything, really.

But y'know, they don't actually care one way or the other when they finally kill you or fail to kill to you.

Just 'cause they try hard don't mean they actually care what happens.

And you can't really "get 'em back" for killing your buddies and stuff, y'know?

'Cause they ain't like us, sir, you can't hurt or scare a killer robot or frustrate 'em or even make 'em feel a little uncomfortable about anything, sir, 'cause they don't care about comfort, they don't know anything about comfort or being hurt or being afraid of things, they don't care if they're on or off or if they win the war or lose the war, it doesn't mean anything to them, they ain't aware of any of that kinda junk, sir.

And so this whole thing where you go stomping about the command deck yelling about how we're gonna make the killer robots pay for this and that and whatever, that's just crazy talk, sir, we can't make the killer robots pay for anything, sir, its just, like, scientifically impossible.

And making humans spend their whole lives learning how to fly spaceships so they can go and get exploded in battle with the killer robot pilots in space, that really doesn't make any sense, sir.

Well, I think we shoulda been making 'em learn about robotics or something so we coulda built ourselves some better robots for once, for one thing, y'know?

Make ourselves some killer robot killing robots or something, right?

And then like, kick back in a comfy chair with a big ole bucket of chips and some beers and watch it all play out on the bigscreen and we can forget all about these "last ditch effort" suicide missions and all this "guerilla warfare against the killer robots" and crap.

I mean, its like, what are we trying to do here?

Even the guys in the hangar are working their asses off repairing our beat-to-hell ships and crap, its like they spend their whole lives trying to work harder and stay up later than the killer robots or something.

That's just crazy, sir, and on top it being crazy, it's like, they're trying to become killer robots or something.

Well, you guys are always yapping on and on about how the killer robots are trying to become more like us humans, and I just don't see it happening that way at all, sir.

And whatever, you'd think that at least those aerospace dudes in the hangar would be a little smarter, y'know, 'cause they ain't like us rich-man's-son idiot command guys, those bastards went to engineering school and shiz where they had to do the hard math.

I mean, that's all just a bunch of junk out of Common Sense 101 or something, y'know?

Well, I'm just saying, sir.

Yah Yah Yah Yah Yah

Programming

I been programming a lot for moolah so I ain't had any brain energy for all this stuff lately.

Sorting and sifting through gigantic puzzles for eight hours a day makes "my boys upstairs" turn the light out early.

Plus I'm getting old y'know so all I wanna do when I get home from work is watch some Matlock or whatever and go to bed.

Which reminds me of the way my grampa called the stuff he liked to watch on TV his "programs."

Like, "I want to watch my programs."

The only thing he ever liked to watch on TV was Wrestling and the Three Stooges and kung fu movies, y'know, those were his programs, he was a World War II hero and a CIA guy and he could dance the jitterbug so he wasn't keen on subtleties and wispy bits of fluff and intrigue produced by folks who imagined more than they had ever seen and stuff ahaha.

Anyways its kinda weird that he called the TV shows he liked his "programs."

Like he's loading entertainment programming into his head or something.

Just like its kinda weird that they call that thing they hand you at the opera or school kid's musical events a Program.

Any word with "gram" used that way in it is kinda new and futuristic, y'know?

Like, its weird to think of opera-writers as guys who are programming the opera house or creating programming for the opera house or something, but apparently that's what at least one of 'em thought they were doing, y'know, a long time ago before there were any computers.

So whatever, I spend all day swimming around in real programs, and then when I get home I just wanna get away from programming, so I go home and load myself up with some entertainment programming that helps me get my mind off of my hard day of work programming.

Jeeze looeeze I shoulda been a lumberjack with a pet monkey or something.

American Masterpiece Mystery Theatre

"You ever hear that thing about how Lesbians drive Subarus?"

"What?"

"This thing about Lesbians driving Subarus. Like, Subarus are s'posed to be the Car of Choice for Lesbians. Some demographic percentage thingie, like, forty percent of Lesbians drive Subarus for some reason."

"No, I ain't heard that."

"Do you s'pose Lesbians know more about cars than heterosexual folks?"

"Hmm, probably."

"Anyways I dunno where I heard it. I dunno if it was from a Pro-Lesbian place or an Anti-Lesbian place. I suppose that Subaru wants Lesbians to buy their cars, but they don't wanna let anybody who doesn't like Lesbians to know that they want Lesbians to buy their cars, 'cause they want Non-Lesbians to buy their cars too, without having to feel like a Lesbian, or something, so they prolly play both sides of the fence. But was the Lesbian-Subaru Connection Rumor leaked by Subaru, as some sorta grassroots viral advertising campaign, or was it leaked by an Anti-Lesbian person working for one of Subaru's competitors, or what?"

"Seems kinda expensive to have to buy a Subaru to be a Lesbian."

"What's the cheapest sexual orientation anyways?"

"Haha yah I'm gonna switch to that."

"It does tend to make a Lesbian who drives a Ford seem kinda punk rock and cool though. Y'know, 'cause who-the-hell would want to be a run-of-the-mill hum-drum go-with-the-crowd sheep-Lesbian."

"Yah."

"I do know why I remembered that weird thing about Lesbians and Subarus, though."

"Yah?"

"Yah. My aunt drove a Subaru. She wasn't a real aunt, she was a friend-of-the-family-aunt. Made me wonder if she was a Lesbian, though, on the side, when I heard that Subaru Lesbian thingie. If she was a Lesbian, she was definitely a Lipstick Lesbian. There's three kinds of super feminine folks, and she was the Pretty Sexual kind, not the Mother Nature or Hospice Nurse kind. Anyways that's why I remember it."

"Hey, you guys solve that murder yet?"

"No."

"What the hell do you think this is, a cop show where they solve a murder every hour?"

"Dude, murders are hard to solve."

"Nobody ever confesses like they do on TV. You never know if you got it right."

"Yah, this isn't Star Trek, man. We can't just Reverse the Polarity and wrap the shit up in the last five minutes. We're still working the kinks out of some of these Subaru-Lesbian Mysteries."

"Any progress on that?"

"Yep, nope, haven't seemed to hit bottom on that rabbit hole yet."

"I did remember why I remembered it, though."

"Haha yah, his aunt might be a Lesbian, on the side."

"On the side, huh? That'd make her a Bisexual, then, actually."

"Oh man, I didn't even think of that."

"That certainly throws a new twist into the whole Subaru-Lesbian Conspiracy."

"Yah, the plot thickens."

"And that's why he gets paid the Big Bucks."

"Haha yah."