ByteBrothers: Why I Love It

I remember a quote from Brian Eno on the creative process and/or life in general: "Define an area as safe and use it as an anchor" and that would be BB for me. I fucking love ByteBrothers. When I went on a camping trip to Mexico for a couple of weeks back when I took along a piece of shit Mac laptop and several dozen QWK packets (remember QWK packets?) so I could read BB while I crushed stinging insects that made their way through the screens of my VW Campmobile.

Back in the BBS days, pre-Internet, BB was a high-quality electronic sewer. Things have changed, but BB remains a great place to hang out and read the latest bullshit. And POST the latest bullshit, anything that comes to mind. It's a great release, it really acts as an anchor for me. Posting in BB is among my favorite things, activities that define life for me. Getting up in the morning (and every morning you're alive is a good morning) and making some coffee and reading the latest BB posts...

Thank you, Jimmy.

A Word to Valeria.

Weren't you and Ted getting married a few years back? What happened with that?

Say, I've always wondered -- you'd said you were a marine biology major once upon a time, and a professor you were particularly impressed with encouraged you to use your writing skills in journalism over marine biology. Did it occur to you that he WANTED TO GET RID OF YOU by making that suggestion? That certainly occurred to me.

When we had met, you referred to your thin, attractive sister as "The Mutant," which I found interesting. Your parents were very attractive when they were young. Obviously YOU are the one in your family that apparently pulled genes out of your ass resulting in... well, you.

The GREATEST thing, though, is that YOU JUST CAN'T TURN IT OFF. You have opinions, but you don't have the common sense to know when to shut the fuck up, you know? And when your trade show boss made you a corporate officer, you were too much of a know-it-all to realize the implications of being a corporate officer!

Single greatest moment ever: I had traveled with you and my mother to your parent's home in South Carolina for your parent's anniversary party and our reception. You turned into a major, MAJOR bridezilla. Your father has very kindly offered to drive my mother and myself to some enormous mansion built by a railroad magnate back in the day, you are regally pissed off over something or other and, with both your parents and me and my mother standing in the driveway, move your vehicle out of the driveway in reverse gear, smoking the tires. Extraordinarily embarrassing!

Your personality ultimately reminded me of a circuit board: two-dimensional. The depth and resonance most adults exhibit is lacking in you. You've spent the time since I scraped you off my boot being venomous and bitter, and you seized on the information that my wife of ten plus years hit the fucking haybales on the sides of the racetrack due to mental illness last year, seized on it like an angry, ugly dog would seize a scrap of meat.

Now. What were we talking about? Was it what a stupid cunt Ann Coulter is? And where does she get off being thin and fuckable? Do say nothing of being a fascist cunt.