Last year, I calculated the total weight of spam I’m getting and came up with about one megabyte per month. Over 90% of it got nicely filtered, so it didn’t bother me all that much, but one megabyte already translated to 3 roubles on my traffic plan, which is already a noticeable sum.
This year I switched to a new traffic plan where I pay 1 rouble per megabyte. Three times cheaper, right? Spam should bother me less, right?
Well, I’m getting about five megabytes of spam per month now, which translates to five roubles.
Should I use the fact that I don’t pay for outbound traffic and send them a couple gigabytes of my regards?
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I met this girl taking a closeup picture of a flower. Yes, that lady in the middle with a black plastic bag in her hand.
Missed taking a picture of her a mere moment. Missed talking to her, too.
This was probably a mistake.
Some people wonder why do I want to know the future, but I already know it quite well enough, the problem is knowing it soon enough to make a difference.
Wednesday, April 28, 2004
Seeing as nobody sees fit to give me a mug, I finally took it into my own hands and bought one — that took quite a lot of looking, since big cylindrical mugs are rare.
But they seem to get progressively bigger and bigger. 0.5, 0.6 liters… this one’s 0.7.
Let’s drink to the beginning of the new epoch.
Это было ужасно. Не просто ужасно а ужасно.
Трупы которые не лежат на месте а бегают по всему корпусу, мешая всем попыткам расследовать их убийство. Трупы которые уверены что их отравили хотя на самом деле они попросту выпили нарзану. Истерички которые совершают самоубийство потому что им скучно и их мамы которые обнимают криокамеру. Вокруг бродило пять или шесть версий реальности которые друг с другом не состыковывались потому что игроки самовольничали и делали как хотели, а мастеров было слишком мало чтобы надавить и унять их. Мастера которые между собой не разговаривали и делали разнообразные глупости на пустом месте, путались в своих же фактах и говорили одним одно а другим другое. Шприцы для суперпентотала которые пришлось покупать в последний момент потому что нас никто об этом не предупредил. В организации этой игры было СТОЛЬКО всего неправильного, что я даже не берусь пересчитывать.
— Граф, вы будете смеяться, но у нас еще один труп.
— Уже не буду.
Из поставленных мастерами целей на эту игру не было достигнуто ни одной.
Из моих личных целей тоже.
Извините за выражение, на хуй.
Местное телевидение, какой-то мультик предположительно американского происхождения. Возможно бразильского, это непринципиально — исходный текст английский.
“А теперь нарисуйте мне круг и крест с шестью ветвями.”
Что они рисуют, как вы думаете?
Круг со вписанной звездой Давида. Я тащусь от этих русских…
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This one maxim has just proved itself true once more. Yet more. In a very profound way.
EVERYBODY WHO WANTS YOU TO GET RID OF OR TURN OFF YOUR CELLPHONE IS YOUR ENEMY.
Why? Don’t ask.
But they are after you if they want your shortest link to your friends and family — your communication device. This much is proven.
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The question is, why?
The answer is, I have absolutely no fscking idea. Just saw the ad and suddenly wanted a smoke. Well, maybe, maybe remembering Tokyo Babylon has something to do with it. I can, at least, reconstruct the associative chain that brought me to remember it, but I’m sure it doesn’t explain why this somehow became desirable.
I never smoked before. I’ve always been quite smoke-tolerant — my mother and father smoked rather heavily. Father eventually quit and only returned to smoking via
pipes pretty recently, as he felt old age coming closer. Mother kept smoking, and smoking only cigarettes, throughout my life, and is still at it. There were special rules for smoking only in prescribed places and with prescribed conditions in this family, and I was usually not to be admitted to the smoking locations when the smoking was underway, (They said it has something to do with me having asthma in my childhood, but I don’t see anything definite like this in my medical records.) but one day when everybody left me about seven years ago, they took the ashtrays with them, and only from time to time guests would smoke using makeshift vessels for the
purpose.
And now I just suddenly… bump and I make a point to get a pack with my usual energy drinks and make a point of smoking it on my way home.
…Is that a sign that something, finally, changed in this world? That is, in my world?
