Papers not just for rolling cigaretts with.

Being a somewhat educated scallywag, I neither smoke, nor do I, usualy, burn librarys. However we have been out to sea for quite a few weeks now without naught for entertainment, and I wouldn't mind a few new books. So if you are feeling generous buy me this: Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep or this: Neuromancer

Avast! Phart Fan's!

When patching up the ceiling from where me brigantine had sprung a leak earlier this year, I found that the the bathroom fan was completely buried in insulation and wasn't actually vented to the outside, or anywhere for that matter. So we have been blowing hot moist air into mulched paper insulation. I really can't think of a better way to grow mould, but I don't know much about that...

So I bought two new fans, might as well add one downstairs while I'm at it, and have begun to install them. However this brings me face to face with the wiring in my house. ;( There are no ground wires, but that's not the worst part: I have a main panel from ~1960, and two sub panels; I have been unable to locate any sort of a main breaker anywhere!

Lest this small project spiral out of control, I will for the moment resign myself to only replacing wires that are convenient to replace (and in so doing adding a equipment bonding/grounding conductor); and as soon as possible I will add in a main breaker or fused disconnect or something...

So I guess I'll be gobbling me grub after work while thar' be more work to do in the crows nest.
Parting shot: Flow

Break out the buckets! Bail for your lives!

We were running full sails to the Cove-Moot when we sprung a leak. Before the boatsman could yell, "Avast!" we were already sinking to a watery grave. With the blessing of the sea gods a strong wind blew up and we were able to land on a western (digital) island of a friendly sort. There is no way however for us to salvage and repair in time for the Cove-Moot. I gave the crew double rations of Grog to help keep there spirits up. On the New(Egg) horizon this morning Visa two eyes spotted a ship approaching, when they get close enough we will pillage what we need from them.


(My hard drive started acting funny Friday night at like 10:00pm,
giving me less than 12 hours to figure out what was going on and get to the LAN party. Almost needless to say the drive was collapsing upon itself, I managed to save 99% of my stuff for which I am very thankful. But dang! I wanted to go to the LAN party, instead I spent 48 hours in my basement running diagnostics, and tearing apart old computers for spare parts. I temporarily installed Ubuntu, and actually it's pretty nice, I like the new version. I still expect to go back to a source based GNU/Linux install eventually, but not at least until I get a new hard drive.)

Cove-Moot

Definition: When a group of pirates sail into a cove, stare at glowing screens, and don't eat, say anything, engage in eye contact, or move at all really. - Except for moving a small plastic mouse in circles, drinking pizza, or eating Bawls. It's part witch craft, part monk like meditation, and partly a cleansing ritual.

Join me at Protocol42's Cove-Moot!

I will post a picture later.

Family of Swashbucklers

My sister is really a better pirate than I, honestly. I am so proud of her; I should make her a sword. She has made a poster for the Zapatistas, and it has been chosen to be produced and put up for sale as part of the celebrate peoples history poster project of JustSeeds.org. Take a look at it, and if you feel so inclined buy one, they are very inexpensive at four dollars:

Evil Inside Me

I had made port and gotten into a friendly game of cards with some wolves. It wasn't a piratical game precisely, but I liked it quite a bit. This sea dog makes it a rule to avoid fortune tellers.
One, on account of I don't like bad news; and two, because no one can really know your future; except for the great sea captain in the sky. But it was already too late, this card game read my soul. Just as I thought the results were as pretty as a drowned man.



Well after seeing that, it was obvious what was to become of me. This pirate, way deep inside, has a supervillian buried.

In light of this I have a new role model Dr. Horrible.

New Rope

It be what passes for rope here on the web. Although whenever I hear wiki, I can't help but think of raiding a villiage o' tiki huts. Them islanders are strange folk, as soon as we started lobbing marshmellows at them (we were out of canon balls) they all ran away.