Welcome to King City, population: Go to hell! But at least this time, take me with you. (Plz check the code. I see nothing)

I carved a coffin for you with lust and broken windows to let the cool purple night breezes in. He’s streetsmart and steelheart. You got trouble, call me and leave a message. Service is prompt, efficient and deadly (a colorful merry-go-round of death).

The entire fucking world is about to be downgraded into the emotional/aesthetic level of a 14 year old unisexual Anime LiveJournal MySpace mashup YouTube Harry Potter fanvid Second Lifer. Watch as it devolves down the drizain before your brizain as mizarketers sizuck the lizife out of the world by forcefeeding us into a force-field generator plant on a gardener’s moon of the witch of Endor. Dominant force. Dominant animal. Animal manmachine loveforce. The Foundational Shift was laid with the New Age movement. Watch as it melds with the warped minds of the upcoming generations. Wars of the future will be fought over whether the world you are enslaved in is user-designed (ie, all advertising and content licensing companies are allowed to compete equally) or a closed corporate Intranest. Second Life vs. The Sims vs. Google World which will come in and meld the two together after it has learned from the mistakes of its rivals/best-teachers. The world has progressed not at all since Lawnmower Man.

Why would you want to live in a computerized world which suffers from all the same goddamned failures of imagination as the real one? Wilhelm Von Humboldt must be turning over in his grave. A woman finally won the Turing Test - oh wait, I mean award. (Over twenty thousand girls every year live this bitter story!)

One of the most prestigious prizes in computing, the $100,000 Turing Award, went to a woman Wednesday for the first time in the award’s 40-year history.

Frances E. Allen, 75, was honored for her work at IBM Corp. (IBM) on techniques for optimizing the performance of compilers, the programs that translate one computer language into another.

This process is required to turn programming code into the binary zeros and ones actually read by a computer’s colossal array of minuscule switches.

And now for a few words from our sponsors:

In-game ads work like this. A player goes online to race against human competitors in a Formula One title. As he turns a corner, he sees an ad imbedded in the game, perhaps as a virtual billboard, for a new car. His German opponent turns the same bend, and sees the same billboard, except it’s advertising a new government anti-drugs campaign. The ads are served according to geography; and are placed demographically with the confidence that most racers will be males in the 18-35 age-group.

See also: Endless Advertising & Costless Production in Virtual Worlds. In the future, gender differentiation will become all but nonexistant as all sexual experiences will become available to all people virtually with the net effect of total population reduction within a single generation. The reason women go crazy when wearing a wedding dress is that they start to believe that they are a fairy princess. Oh yeah, speak Technocracy to me, baby! Let’s do the Lion Dance together tonite! Dexter Freebish will be eating (you) out for dinner.

Two strangely similar stories (Judge limits New York police surveillance practices):

Last month, Johannas Pope, 61, was found dead, wearing a white gown, and propped up in her chair in front of the TV. […] Pope told her caretaker, Kathy Painter, she didn’t want to be buried because she believed she would come back to life…

(Coroner O’dell) Owens said Painter put on gloves and removed the maggots from Pope’s body daily.

He said she used bug spray when they became too numerous to remove by hand. Investigators found 17 cans of bug spray in the house, he said.

“She really took care of (the body),” Owens said.

Painter even bought Pope new clothes just before officials discovered her body.

“She bought new clothes because she thought this was the time period she was coming back,” Owens said.

And also this one from my own Long Island (City hunting chainsaw attack pair):

Police called to a Long Island man’s house discovered the mummified remains of the resident, dead for more than a year, sitting in front of a blaring television set.

The 70-year-old Hampton Bays, New York, resident, identified as Vincenzo Ricardo, appeared to have died of natural causes. Police said on Saturday his body was discovered on Thursday when they went to the house to investigate a report of a burst water pipe.

“You could see his face. He still had hair on his head,” Newsday quoted morgue assistant Jeff Bacchus as saying. The home’s low humidity had preserved the body.

Mummies watching television. Zombies from Hell. What is going on here? This is starting to remind me of the good old days when the dead walked the earth and everyone ate everyone else’s brains like tv dinners on steroids and hash. Pope. Painter. Bug spray. Maggots. Zombies. Mummies. Mannequins. Vampires. Robots. Cardboard cut-out people leaving you red notes on housedoors at the streetcorner. They say “Come meet me for Fish n Chips at Ivar’s. We have a lot to talk about.”

The controversy was related to the last four minutes (the silent “panther” scene) of the original eleven-minute music video, or “short film”, as Jackson preferred to call it; since this part began with Michael being a panther, before exiting a studio and morphing into himself. Here, Jackson smashed car windows containing racist graffiti such as Nazi symbols and slander such as “wetbacks” written on the glass of the car windows and store windows, as well as a store window with “KKK RULES” emblazoned on it; Jackson then jumped on the car, grabbed his crotch and unzipped his fly slowly - which was what probably caused the key controversy - before re-zipping, smashed a storefront window by throwing a garbage can at it, and began screaming in an enranged manner causing a building sign to collapse.

Police only monitor you when they want you to feel important. It’s meant to be an ego-boost. You should be flattered. Honestly, they have no idea what you’re talking about and frankly don’t care. Have you ever talked to one of these guys? Seriously. You should be flattered.