Everything2 New Writeups

Color a Dinosaur (review)

2010-01-06T11:35:30Z

Color a Dinosaur was a cartridge developed for the Nintendo Entertainment System. It was not, as most cartridges designed for the Nintendo were, a game. The cartridge was exactly what its name suggested: an electronic coloring book, where the player(?) could select one of several cartoonish dinosaurs, and then color it in by selecting some bright primary colors.

And that is it.

While it is good that someone should try to develop a way to use the Nintendo that is not a violent or competitive game, this is simply not it. There is nothing that this cartridge doesn't do that a coloring book and a box of crayons couldn't do. Considering the totally involving, and yes, imaginative world that could be packed onto a NES cartridge such as The Legend of Zelda, the idea of someone actually buying an electronic coloring book is somewhat ridiculous.

I suppose with enough marijuana, some hipsters might be able to get ironic fun out of this. But much like Def Leppard and Taco Bell, there are some things that not even irony can improve.

bearings (person)

2010-01-06T10:56:42Z

How does a plastic bearing work? Well fundamentally it fulfils the same role as traditional metal bearings. They can be used in all the same machines and applications including those of high temperature and those for use underwater. In fact because of the range of plastic bearings available there will be one that could replace most metal bearings. In some cases plastic bearings can even succeed where metal ones had failed for example in food manufacturing (as there is no splintering and no leakage of lubrication) and with corrosive substances (metal is corrodible therefore needs replacing regularly, plastic bearings do not). igus plastic bearings are also self lubricating. igus polymer bearings contain solid lubricants embedded in millions of tiny chambers of the mostly fibre-reinforced material. During operation, the bearing transfers lubricant onto the shaft to help lower the COF. Unlike a sintered-bronze bushing, polymer bearings release solid lubricants as soon as the bearing or shaft is set…

flex cable (person)

2010-01-06T10:53:05Z

What is a flexible cable? A flexible cable takes on the same function as the regular guided cables but eliminate many of the problems. A flexible cable delivers longer life and better performance. They are ideal for demanding applications on all types of automated machinery. Flexible cables can handle tight bending radii in dynamic applications. igus Chainflex® cables are tested over millions of cycles in all types of conditions to ensure optimal performance.

The range of igus Chainflex flexible cables includes control, data, bus, position feedback, fibre optic, coax, servo, power and robot cables. This means they can replace many of the old cables already in use within these machines and outperform them as well.

An increase in the demands of automation technology meant guided cables often failed, despite the cable carrier protecting them functioning perfectly. In extreme cases, failures caused by "corkscrews" and core ruptures brought entire production lines to a…

when the last opportunity leaves (idea)

2010-01-06T06:05:46Z

Once, there is a boy. A boy up to his waist in sand. How did he get here? Well, let's just say our story begins here. He is in sand.

Now this boy is not acquisitive. He is not sensitive or destructive or any other tive I can think of. He is just a boy. A boy in sand.

Surrounding him and his sand is a white wooden fence. Where a gate would go, there is instead a doorframe. There is no door, just a doorframe. The boy's position in the sand faces him towards this gap in the fence, and on very good days, he can lean far enough forward to graze the edge of the frame with his fingertips. But the sand is heavy, and he relaxes back to an upright position.

On these particularly good days that he manages to touch the wood, he can see through the doorframe, and out of his little world of sand and fences. The world beyond his is nothing. A simple, flat plane. Except for a door. No doorframe, just a door. This door stands without support, aligned with nothing.…

Robot Do Well (fiction)

2010-01-06T05:55:58Z

Robot Do Well lived in the suburbs of Intelville in Windowland. His life was perfect until one day he started malfunctioning, dangerously expressing individualistic and eccentric personality traits (as evidenced by this journal entry and subsequent journal entries that are to be added at a later date).

Diary of Robot Do Well, Journal Entry #1

beep boop beep boop... hiiiiii, i am a .zzzzttt... robot. i am a standard model bipedal humanoid, i HAvvve light-sensitive sensory structures, a complex CEntral neervous ...brrrrp.... system with high processing reasoning functions. i live in a HOUSE, a microchip, ...bzztttzz... with glowing boxes, like ALARM CLOCK & MICROWAVE & TELEVISION & COMPUTER 1 & COMPUTER 2. they are our friends and constant companions. i live with my master drive, or, FATHER, and i am his slave drive, or, SON. issd....///4$ . we live in a circuit board, or SUBDIVISION, and the we travel through…

embers (thing)

2010-01-06T04:21:30Z

watching the bonfire, the ocean wearing
against the cliffside; clutching the
blanket, April turns and
smiles, slyly, when she feeds the
hearth. Calming the wind we brought
our hands against it, gathering either
strength or disbelief; for the cottage up
against the shore, collapsing
in age, we found a better
use in our warmth. Something
is howling in the distance, either the
wind or coyotes picking through the dunes. Some
light is cracking at the edge of the
tides, broken sometimes when a wave
is approaching. watching above the
bonfire we lose track of
which are sparks and which are
constellations

Kookaburra (thing)

2010-01-06T03:11:48Z

My aunt told me a story about how she went camping with my uncle and an American friend of theirs. They were sitting down for dinner when a chattering, laughing cry filled the air. Startled, the American friend exclaimed "I didn't know you have monkeys in Australia!"

It was not a monkey, of course; it was a kookaburra, one of the quintessential Australian birds. They the laughing spirits of the Aboriginal dreamtime, the jokers, pests, and troublemakers. There are many stories of how the kookaburra got his laugh. Their distinctive cries and patchy white-and-brown bodies are a familiar feature of the bush.

They are also meat eaters, and one of the few natural predators of snakes. I've seen them line up on a branch above a frying pan or BBQ, and swoop down to take sausages straight off the hotplate, to the extreme annoyance of the chef. They've even been known to swoop past your face and try and take the meat out of your sandwich…

Renee Montoya (person)

2010-01-06T00:53:09Z

Renee Montoya will likely never be DC Comics' most well-known character. Superman, Wonder Woman, and Batman have iconic looks, cool powers, and decades of success in multiple media. However, she has proved surprisingly versatile, beginning her career as a cop and token Hispanic in a cartoon popular with nerds and children, made detective and headlines by coming out as a lesbian in an award-winning comic, nearly drank herself to death as a turn on that venerable American character, the hardboiled detective, and finally, became a bona fide superhero. She added diversity to American comics, provoked considerable fan reactions-- and dated Batwoman.

Her fictional life begins on television-- sort of. The creators of Batman: The Animated Series developed the character. A working class female cop whose parents came from the Dominican Republic, she added diversity to the Dark Knight's cast. She works closely with an established character, Gotham City police…

Arawete (person)

2010-01-05T22:18:55Z

The Araweté (also known as Araueté) are an indigenous group belonging to the Tupi-Guarani ethnic group, who live in the Brazilian state of Pará. They are hunters and gatherers, who moved 40 years ago from the headsprings of the Bacajá river to the Xingu river, in the state of Pará. According to Funasa there were 339 members in the group in 2006.

Language

The name "Araweté" was invented by a Funai woodsman, and it doesn't have any real meaning. The word used by the tribe to refer to themselves is "bïde", which means "we", "our people", "human beings". The Araweté language belongs to Tupi-Guarani family. The prosody is heavily nasal, the pace is quick and there are sounds which are difficult for the native Brazilian Portuguese speaker to replicate. Syntax and morphology are quite different from those of Indo-European languages. The adult Araweté population is almost totally monolingual. Only the young children who were born after the tribe started…

Everyone has a dead bird story (poetry)

2010-01-05T20:27:51Z

The worst part's that for hours now
grass has been running in my new dress
and I am sitting on a concrete bench
one of five before the hairdresser's
the first is dumb, the second wide-eyed
the third afflicted with duplicity
I am the fourth and fifth
for I'm standing in a puddle
I see myself in it and must pull faces
else the one of them who's me
could not tell the fur cap on my head
from the dead bird at my feet

The Huntsman's Letter To His Wife (fiction)

2010-01-05T18:33:51Z

I hope you get this. John risked his life to get it to you. I pray you receive this.

Take the children, and get out of here. Go, get as far away from the Kingdom as you can. Maybe you only have a few hours.

She will look for you, and she is angry, full of evil, she wants vengeance. It is too late for me, do not wait. God knows, I don't want to die, not like this, but there is no way out. I'm done for. You cannot help me. If you try, you will die too. She's hell bent on vengeance. She's much worse than I've ever seen her.

I don't know how she knows. After she asked me to do ... that thing that I could not do, that no decent man could do ... first I thought she was fooled. She seemed satisfied by the piece of meat I gave.

But she found out, somehow - that the child lives. I suppose she lives, I don't know where. But, somehow, maybe by her foul magic, she found out.

Run. Disguise yourselves, leave, go far from here. She will kill you like she will kill me.

I love you. I lo

Julian Comstock (review)

2010-01-05T12:09:05Z

Julian Comstock: A Novel of 22nd-Century America

In October of 2172—the year the Election show came to town—Julian Comstock and I, along with his mentor Sam Godwin, rode to the Tip east of Williams Ford, where I came to possess a book, and Julian tutored me in one of his heresies (1).

Robert Charles Wilson has established a reputation not just as one of the age's finest science fiction writers, but as a fine literary writer, whose spin on our possible futures reaches a broad and intelligent audience of readers. In 2006, he published a novella, Julian Comstock: A Christmas Story. He revised and expanded the premise in 2009's award-worthy work, creating a novel of twenty-second century where, after the depletion of inexpensive fossil fuels, after plague and social unrest, North America resembles the nineteenth century, overlaid with elements of feudalism and religious oligarchy. Horses and trains cross a landscape marked with the…

unidentified flying object (thing)

2010-01-05T11:36:02Z

An unidentified flying object is exactly what it says on the tin: Something moving through the air which the observer can't put a name to. I've seen one... for about half a second, before my brain caught up with my eyes and said, "It's an aeroplane viewed from side on as it moves on a landing trajectory. You can't see the wings because you're exactly in line with them. The tail is the same colour as the sky".

It was hardly a thrilling scene from The X-Files. I just happened to be walking down a road that's high up in the middle of the afternoon, and looked to my left while the plane was descending. I could see something, and for a split second I could not recognise it. After my brain kicked in its logic circuits and I'd figured out what it was, and why it didn't look familiar, I waited and saw the aeroplane come into focus as it moved lower. Then I could see the detail - the tail was now visible against the hills, and the tips of the wings…

effort and intelligence (idea)

2010-01-05T10:23:05Z

Recently, I've found myself contemplating the fact that if I was just a hair less intelligent, a smidge less observant, one yard short of a first down or one egg short of a dozen that I would be a lot happier. Don't get me wrong, I know more than a few people who could run circles around me using that lump of goo behind their eyes. Yet, these very same people, with the exception of maybe one, seem to find no joy in their intelligence, myself included.

As the days flow into weeks, and the weeks melt into months, I find that the only way to satisfy my thirst for knowledge is to tackle as many problems and dilemas as possible, whether they be personal or whether they concern the entire planet does not seem to make a difference.

For example, I might not be able to adopt a poverty-stricken Cambodian child or two, yet I am compelled to learn more and more about their plight. How is Cambodia any different than, say, Vietnam, South Korea, many parts of Africa? How come only…

I used to wish I could dream in black and white (idea)

2010-01-05T05:56:56Z

Simplicity. I used to long for it. When I was younger, I dreamed. I dreamed of love, war, life and death. I dreamed of epic battles where the heroes always won, where the bad guys died (or at least had their diabolic plans foiled) and the aforementioned hero secured the love of the damsel, recently in distress. Then, as time passed, I learned. I fought, I loved, I lived. Everything I thought I knew was proved wrong. The colors seeped into my dreams, and I saw things as they were. When I saw the world in black and white, I could hide- hide behind the simplicity of it all. But the color meant I couldn't hide anymore. In art, videos and such, color adds so much- it gives life, depth, reality... but in life, color only illuminates the wrongs of our world, the darkness within us. I used to long for the escape of simplicity. I used to long to return to my world of black and white, where I could hide again. I prayed to whatever god…

Gentrification (idea)

2010-01-05T05:49:21Z

Gentrification, as a term, has long ago left the sociological literature and entered the common speech, usually in a pejorative way. The problem with this is, while the term might have meant something fairly specific in the original research (although I doubt it was very specific), it has come to mean a number of things in its common usage.

When using sociological terms, it is important to operationalize them. Gentrification is the process of a more affluent population moving into an area inhabited by a less affluent population. While this sounds like a good definition, defining it further is somewhat problematic. On the issue of "affluence", there is many ways to operationalize that. Furthermore, how is the difference between them defined? Every neighborhood or demographic area has a range of possible incomes, so how far above the range of incomes do newcomers have to be before they are gentrifiers? And as for "moving in", we have the same question: since there will almost always be…

I forgot to wear your necklace today. (personal)

2010-01-04T19:17:51Z

I forgot to wear your necklace today.

I saw it on my dresser when I came up to bed, instinctively reached for the place on my chest where the pendant would hang. Bare skin. I ran my fingers lightly up to my neck, looked up into the mirror, saw where the silver chain should have been. It was on the dresser. A scrap of rock and metal. A scrap of you.

I put it on, stared at the mirror in the dark, barely able to make it out against my skin. Remembered how it looked next to your freckles in the summertime, when you wore that sundress, the one with the blue flowers. Remembered when you got it, your first diamond, and we pretended that a boy had given it to you instead of our parents. I was always jealous. So jealous that when you gave it to me, I refused at first, embarrassed. But you insisted.

I wore it every day, even under my smock, took it off only to sleep or shower. I wore it to my senior prom, Eric's graduation, your wedding. And I wore it at the service,…

Narcissistic Personality Disorder (fiction)

2010-01-04T17:28:58Z

A made up disease. The kind of thing you come to expect from organizations like the American Psychiatric Association, who have free reign to publish lists of symptoms without identifying an associated pathology. The "disorder" is better described as a lack of experience and perspective. I'm going to go through the diagnostic criteria, posted in samvak's writeup, and explain why each of them is complete bullshit. Bear with me as I do so. Please note that any behaviors I describe as "universal" can certainly be *suppressed* - and, depending on the behavior, it may be advantageous to do so. A reluctance to suppress a behavior, however, cannot be accurately described as a physical malfunction, so much as a deficiency in information.

An all-pervasive pattern of grandiosity (in fantasy or behaviour), need for admiration or adulation and lack of empathy, usually beginning by early adulthood and present in various contexts.

…

prequel (thing)

2010-01-04T13:13:47Z

"Prequel" is a handy word. So useful - yet so abused and mistreated. It's going to need a lot of therapy to overcome the trauma.

The word is simple to understand: Take the start of the word "previous" and the end of the word "sequel" and stitch them together to get the portmanteau "prequel": A sequel that chronologically places its events before those of the original work. A good example of a prequel is the film Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, which takes place in 1935, a year before the setting of the previous movie, Raiders of the Lost Ark. Unlike other prequels, that one is not telling a background story to explain how the situation in the first film came about, it is just a previous adventure of the main character.

It is more common for a prequel to explain the backstory to the original work, show how the situation at the start of the original came about, and flesh out things referred to as past events. The Silmarillion, Tolkien's attempt to emulate…

Counties Won by H. Ross Perot in the 1992 US Presidential Election (place)

2010-01-04T07:11:52Z

One of the signs of the success of H. Ross Perot in the 1992 US Presidential Election is that he failed to win a single electoral vote. While coming up with no electoral votes may not be a sign of success, it does mean that H. Ross Perot managed to do something that no third party candidate had managed to do since Theodore Roosevelt in 1912: create a broad-based, rather than regional, third-party. His success, and failure, carried even further down then the state level. At the county level, any presidential candidate should be able to find a few pockets of strength, college towns or ethnic communities, or some other demographic oddity that will be a center of strength. But Perot ran a broad based campaign, doing fairly well across the country, but only managed to win a handful of counties. This is a list of the counties that Perot managed to win a plurality in, with brief explanations of why he managed to do well in those areas.

…

between an evitable and inevitable harm (poetry)

2010-01-04T05:18:46Z

the empty pocket Atop them fell,
once of the dogs in the bell of the roofs tear off
amid the waves of through the first time;

Miranda I have built this tower of our empire.
Autumn sends the current we will now
auburn slept to pierce enough the ground water
was spouting compact mirages and I have built
this tower of the ivy lantern's flame in passivity

light on trained her back, a tempest fell to earth.
were wall paper of the keyhole sounded she
the rest was ending for the auditorium lights on her name,
scraped through the air throwing aged paper roses,
Latticework over the yard comfort blistered her
fell to the outcroppings.

houses of missiles to pierce enough the sky overhead,
frame the sky. debris,
muttered the sky of debris, once of twilight …

Be yourself (idea)

2010-01-04T03:23:49Z

All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players.
The only joy in this life is to act.

Follow your bliss, (Joseph Campbell)
Do your will, (Aleister Crowley)
Be true to yourself, (origin unknown)
live and let live (origin unknown).

"But what if my true self is evil?"
If it were so, would you ask this question?

The sickness of the world lies in the dissonance of its participants,
how absurd it is that anyone need be told to "be themselves".

Baking bread (idea)

2010-01-04T02:54:09Z

Ah, fresh baked bread. The very smell of which permeates our senses, ensnaring our minds and drawing us almost inexplicably towards the source. On that note, Here's my guide to how to bake bread, without sight.

First, decide which kind of bread you're going to bake. Will it be rustic or sophisticated? Will it have seeds, spices, nuts or fruit? Will it be buns or a loaf? Okay, let's begin.
First, please wash your hands and your counter and utensils. Rinse in hot water and allow them to cool. I don't want you to get sick.
Grab the following:

…

Vicky Cristina Barcelona (review)

2010-01-04T02:47:08Z

A long time ago, in a galaxy, far, far away, nerds got all pissy because a popular film called Star Wars lost out on best picture Oscar to one called Annie Hall.

Know what? Annie Hall totally deserved to win. Because back then, in a galaxy far, far away, Woody Allen made awesome pictures. He turned out stuff like Stardust Memories and The Purple Rose of Cairo and Manhattan. He was funny, touching, experimental, and in real life, dated and married some pretty cool Hollywood stars like Diane Keaton and Mia Farrow.

But that long ago and far away and might as well be an alternate history. Now, Woody Allen is fucking his stepdaughter and making films like Vicky Cristina Barcelona.

Okay, VCB features some okay performances. Actually, Penélope Cruz pretty much kicks ass,…

Helots Run Chapter 2 (fiction)

2010-01-04T02:40:26Z

continued from Chapter 1

Naarka stood on the dock of the ferry station on the east side of the river. He still held the hand lamp. He lifted it up again and pointed at the receding ferry until he could no longer make out the figure of the attendant leaning against the railing on its deck. Then he turned off the lamp and let his hand drop. He tapped the lamp thoughtfully against the thick woolen leggings wrapping his thigh. He drew a long breath in slowly, and let it out gradually, trying to make the exhale twice as slow as the inhale. He let his frustration drop like an instrument reading with every passing moment of this breath.

He turned and stepped back into the ferry station. In two long steps he was standing in front of the ticket counter. "You. Man. When does the next ferry come?"

The computer tablet on which the man had been reading his magazine no longer played any light across his face.…