Looming Y2K+6 Global Computer Crisis

I write this wholly uncertain as to when my next update will be. My aging and decrepit 20GB hard drive--the one that initially came with this system and the one which houses the OS, Windows XP--is acting mighty flaky. A few days ago, for example, there was a six-hour period in which the drive would rapidly lose disk space to phantom data. After frantically trying to figure out what was going on and deleting tons of stuff to keep it afloat, I gave up secular solutions and jogged over to the nearby Buddhist temple to fetch some holy water from the holy water trough outside. After ritualistically dousing my computer and repeatedly shouting "the power of Christ compels you, the power of Christ compels you," the drive calmed down and stopped dropping space. A later attempt to defragment the drive revealed that it is indeed corrupted (by Satan or old age--not a virus, I checked for that) and the defragmentation engine could not be activated. So, to put a long story short, these are the final days of my epic "C:\" (that's not a smiley, you DOS-illiterate simpleton, that's its name written in prompt form!).

So what next? I need to get a replacement drive. And since I'm not at all certain of my ability to essentially "xerox" the data from old drive to new drive for a clean and easy swap, I'll likely have to reinstall Windows XP. This will be a real pain the ass as it turns out that the copy of XP I've been running is, in fact, a pirated version with a fraudulent serial number that has recently been flagged by Microsoft as such! (Embarassing, I know... trust me: I'm as shocked as you are that there is pirated software on my machine.) So I'll have to get a genuine copy of XP as well, and that will be the difficult part as the vast majority of XPs in this country are entirely in Japanese.

So, Crepuscular Ray, your cozy home for football prognostication and TV Club updates, might go offline for an unknown period of time. In this event, expect updates to be done even more sporadically from my office computer.

What else to talk about ... hmm ... got paid yesterday. That was nice. Ventured outside for the first time in a while. Sunlight=wow! What else ... currently gathering boring materials together so I can forge them into mind-numbingly boring lesson plans for a fun-crushing semester. That kind of prep always puts a spring in my step.

Oh! Colleague and pal and occasional CrepRay comment contributor Elizabeth has recently moved to Tokyo and is preparing a regimen of TESOL instruction at an institution far more prestigious than mine. Sounds like a lot of pressure for her and her program to succeed, but given what I know of her character and work ethic and training, I think she's more than up to the task. I've been lucky to have had a few phone conversations with her since her arrival, and it's surprisingly enjoyable to catch up and to reexperience some of the ups and downs (but mostly ups) of transporting your life to Japan. It's also good to compare notes w/r/t living abroad in Japan--I've learned a lot about advantages and disadvantages of Japanese cell-phones and internet Skype phones. I also learned that next time I buy a spoon at a store, I should wash it before using it. I'm still a bit skeptical as to the importance of new-spoon-washing (What's next? Launder new sheets before putting them on the bed? Scrub fresh vegetables from a produce stand?), but she sounded quite certain so it's good to know. Anyhoo, we both begin our semesters next week, so good luck, Elizabeth!

But more importantly, good luck, me!

(HaHA!... whew... I hate to laugh at my own joke, but did you see how I wished myself good luck there? And explicitly placed more importance on wishing good luck to myself than to a close friend! It makes me seem more self-centered than I really am, ultimately amounting to some unexpected self-deprecating humorous irony, the kind you'll only find on Crepuscular Ray. Pretty clever, no? And some claim my sense of haha has declined due to a lack of witty companions present to help keep it sharp. Clearly not!)

What else should I mention ... important stuff ... stuff I should talk about now because I don't know when my next post will be ...

Oh yeah! Racist Survivor! No real updates on that, but seeing as how pondering the reality show accounts for 65% of my daily cognitive functions, it was inevitable that I mentally connect Racist Survivor to a column I wrote a few years back (said mental connection occurred at approximately 6:39 PM, earlier this evening). Instead of Racist Survivor, though, my column featured Activist Survivor. This column was originally written for a summer radio show I did with ole Kevin Brown, but I later turned it into a newspaper column (late August, 2001), and shortly after that it was snagged by CollegeClub.com via the U-Wire press syndicate--a definite compliment. If you're interested, here you go:

This past weekend, I was privileged enough to be invited as a contestant in Germany's new hit extreme reality television series, Der KleinWeltMachtPolitik!

The show is basically a Survivor knock-off in which contestants are stranded on a deserted island in the South Pacific where their actions and behaviors are dutifully recorded by a non-participatory film crew.

The twist is that instead of having middle class automatons fight over a million dollar piece of cheese, the German show features highly-motivated activists from all over the world. Since logic plays a pathetically small role in public debate these days, the show's premise is centered around the philosophy that the last contestant standing must—-by virtue of her or his sheer force of will-—bear the flag for the worthiest cause.

Among the contestants, there was a screeching NARAL pro-abortion activist, an anti-abortion picketer/sniper, a vegan eco-terrorist, a CEO of a worldwide oil and lumber conglomerate, a crusading transvestite, a homophobic television evangelist, an inbred spokesman from the Aryan Nations, a New Black Panther, a militant Lubavitch Hasidic Jewish Settler, a Hamas suicide-bomber-in-training, and two rifle-toting gentlemen randomly plucked from the republic formerly known as Yugoslavia who just so happened to hate each other.

So, you may ask, with all these involved activists, what was I doing there? Thanks to the inexplicable vagaries of the internet, the producers of the show had read a old column of mine and decided that I'd make a perfect addition to the diverse range of contestants. According to them, I'm the only person on Earth stupid enough to proclaim myself a "pro-apathy inactivist."

I somehow exist in the very middle of this vast spectrum of activists and cause-heads. I am the random person that everyone tries to convince or convert. I often react with hostility towards such attempts, and I publicly revel when a disgruntled and frustrated activist labels me "apathetic."

Unfortunately, my stay on the show was destined to be short lived. While everyone else sang protest songs, I was constructing a fully-enclosed bamboo outhouse. When people started shouting their rhymed clichés and waving signs, I was foraging for edible roots.

On the island, I discovered I had far more important things to worry about than abstract and trendy causes that, even if I cared, I am ultimately powerless to affect. The delicious irony is that I've always felt the same way back here in Ft. Collins.

Inevitably, the activists grew violent as their slogans and shouts failed to accomplish anything. My first night's sleep was constantly interrupted by sporadic gunfire and I could concentrate on nothing except my growling stomach. The anti-abortion fellow left his tall sign—a blown-up photograph of a bloody and dismembered fetus—at the side of the camp, and the flickering of the firelight over its surface only served to increase my hunger.

Rather than succumb to my confusing cannibalistic urges, I instead turned my efforts toward opening a coconut. I tried bashing it against everything hard, but nothing worked. Thankfully, Ahmed, the Hamas suicide-bomber, left his backpack open and I was able to swipe 10 kg of Semtex plastic explosive and a remote detonator.

That did the trick. Coconut chunks and drops of milk rained down over the entire island like manna for nearly three minutes.

Much to my surprise, this really pissed off the rest of the contestants. The conservative partisans were disgusted by my lack of respect for Ahmed's personal property. The liberals thought I stole from Ahmed because I was prejudiced against the color of his skin and his oft-maligned religion. The Vegan was irked that the explosion might have disrupted the migratory patterns of the South Pacific albatross.

As a result, I was unanimously voted off the island the next evening. The show's host extinguished my torch and told me that on this island, activism means life, and I needed to learn to find better ways to impose my worldview on others.

It was somewhat humiliating to be the first person voted off Der KleinWeltMachtPolitik!, but, overall, it was a fun and rewarding experience. How's your summer going?

***

And people act like Jayson Blair was the first putz to fabricate news stories. Hell, half my "journalism" was cockamamey bullshit plucked from my imagination. In retrospect, I think my favorite part was looking at fetus-chunks and feeling nothing but hunger. Good times.

Well, I think I'll leave you all with perhaps the greatest CG masterpiece I've laid eyes on. I've spent hours gazing on this. You owe it to yourself to spend a little time doing the same. Click to enlarge, and I'll talk to you all later! Hopefully!