Personal Pages, Profanity

Well now. I’ve been upgraded – or downgraded – or degraded. Or just, you know, graded. Feels like that, or maybe that’s more grated, and it feels like that as well. Secure Computing, the motherfuckers who sell STOOPIDfilter to repressive countries and companies, agreed that I wasn’t Pornography, sex. Evidently I’m Personal Pages, Profanity, with […]

Well now. I’ve been upgraded – or downgraded – or degraded. Or just, you know, graded. Feels like that, or maybe that’s more grated, and it feels like that as well.

Secure Computing, the motherfuckers who sell STOOPIDfilter to repressive countries and companies, agreed that I wasn’t Pornography, sex.

Evidently I’m Personal Pages, Profanity, with a side of Personal, Mature.

Well, fuck yeah. That’s me. The Moronosphere, ProfanityBlog.

Because we’re all about the effword here.

Maybe it’s mature that bothers me more. Who you callin’ fuckin’ mature? We ain’t got no fuckin’ maturity here. Not a sausage. Not a drop. Not a fuckin’ cc, baby.

I guess the point is that the people at Secure Computing listen if we complain, but they still do the wrong thing and slap a fucking label on something they don’t get.

I’ll have to see if we’re still banned in the fuckin’ UAE. They’re not allowed pornography, let’s see if they’re allowed to read the effword.

black bars over our eyes

I finally figured out why some of my friends can’t get to my site from their places of employment, and why my friend Arvind, the brilliant young developer of MtBlogRoll, can’t get to my site at all from the United Arab Emirates. Moronosphere.com is on the SmartFilter blacklist. I’m listed as a “Pornography” site and […]

I finally figured out why some of my friends can’t get to my site from their places of employment, and why my friend Arvind, the brilliant young developer of MtBlogRoll, can’t get to my site at all from the United Arab Emirates.

Moronosphere.com is on the SmartFilter blacklist. I’m listed as a “Pornography” site and a “Sex” site; which means that any company or nation that’s decided to babysit users like nursery-school kids find we’re too evil for tender little eyes. This includes all the sites I host under moronosphere.com, but not sites with their own domains.

You can read about the utter stupidity that is SmartFilter on BoingBoing, who are likewise blocked.

You can check your own sites here:

securecomputing.com/sfwhere/index.cfm

I’m not yet sure if there’s any way to get that listing corrected. I’m working on it and I’ll post here if I find out.

satinslippers.com offline

Satin Slippers – one of the net’s best erotic sites, is (temporarily we hope) off line. I’m trying to get details from the People Who Know about if/when it will come back. This is the site where my stories (Wanton, Man with the Bag, etc) were hosted, though I’ve got ’em here now.

Satin Slippers – one of the net’s best erotic sites, is (temporarily we hope) off line. I’m trying to get details from the People Who Know about if/when it will come back.

This is the site where my stories (Wanton, Man with the Bag, etc) were hosted, though I’ve got ’em here now.

Time’s the Revelator

Darling remember from when you come to me that I’m the pretender, I’m not what I’m supposed to be but who could know, lf I’m a traitor? time’s the revelator, revelator.           –Gillian Welch, Revelator I wish I had an mp3 of that song so I could put it up for you to hear, […]

Darling remember from when you come to me
that I’m the pretender,
I’m not what I’m supposed to be
but who could know, lf I’m a traitor?
time’s the revelator, revelator.

          –Gillian Welch, Revelator

I wish I had an mp3 of that song so I could put it up for you to hear, it’s beautiful. I only have a m4p version I got from the itunes store and they’re not sharable. I’d bitch about that but (looks at paycheck) it’s not in my best interest to do so.

Better, I wish I could put up an mp3 of my friend Ken’s version of it. Welch’s is pretty, but Ken’s, with backup by Heather Courtney and (hell, I guess her name is Lyndie Way, but I’m not sure about that). Ken’s is intense and passionate. A case where the song writer and the cover artist combine to make something wonderful that the songwriter alone doesn’t deliver.


Today marks two years of blogging for yours truly. And as with last year, I feel I should be saying something about it. I failed last year. But I have very very strong feelings about anniversaries, commemorations of dates and events. I remember these things, have marked them on myself with tattoos. I’m the one who says “You know, one year ago today, we met”. I already mentioned that this year marks 30 years since my first piercing. So these things matter to me.

In so many ways Welch’s lyrics, above, say more about my feelings here than anything I can come up with. I’m the pretender, I’m not what I’m supposed to be.

My long-time readers (um. both of them) know I started this to talk about writing, because I couldn’t think of anything else to blog about at the time. I had hoped, after writing Wanton earlier that year, to use this blog to help me hone my writing skill and harness my creativity.

Best Laid Plans and all that. In fact this blog has been something completely other than that. An ego monument, a place to express myself, an anchor around my neck, a listening ear in both good ways and bad. It’s gotten me some good friends, though in fact many of them came via orkut, or other sites like the erotica forum where I posted my novella. It’s in many ways helped me be more open about my feelings. It’s taught me some new technical skills, but it’s also given me a huge distraction and time suck.

I don’t know, in the end, if this is good for me, or bad. I flip-flop on that weekly, and as I’ve said, three or four times I’ve given it up and torn my blog down and said fuck blogging, it’s all over. I’ve written almost nothing since Wanton, only put up two stories (a silly piece about santa and a sex-dream story inspired by a long-ago celebrity crush). I spend more time in a state of writer’s block than I spend writing.

It’s been an intense two years. I’ve learned more about love and hurt the last two years than I think I ever knew in my life up ’til that point. In many ways these last two years have encompassed some of my highest highs and lowest lows, and the shock waves from all that will not dissipate for a long while yet. In many ways I found myself these last two years, or let myself be myself, stopped being what other people expected of me.

Maybe the pretender is the shell on the ground behind me. Or maybe I’m fooling myself again and what I’m doing is simply killing time and not doing anything.

In either case, this marks two years in my life where everything changed and yet everything is the same, and I’m the worse for the wear, with new scars inside and out, only some of them self-inflicted.

I feel like I should be proud or angry. Yet all I can manage is sad.

Time’s the revelator.

In your eyes I see a thousand lives, where do you come from?

In your eyes I see a thousand lives, Where do you come from, Where do you belong.      –Dave Davies, Where Do You Come From I look at my logs all the time – because I’m that kinds of guy, part OCD, part detective, part complete geek – who likes to see the man behind […]

In your eyes I see a thousand lives,
Where do you come from,
Where do you belong.

     –Dave Davies, Where Do You Come From

I look at my logs all the time – because I’m that kinds of guy, part OCD, part detective, part complete geek – who likes to see the man behind the curtain. The kinds of guy who needs to know how it all works.

Anyone with a sitemeter knows what I’m talkin’ about, though I also have urchin installed on the server, and run a couple other web-based counters and have in the past used tools like mint to track hits.

But whatever you look at, whatever slice and dice of the data you have, it’s still the same shit, who’s visiting, when, from where, and how did they get here?

There are several useful, interesting or amusing data points to be had from looking at web server logs.

The one that’s usually good for the most mirth is the google search string (and I use the term in the generic sense because we could be talking about hits from yahoo or msn or aolsearch or any one of a hundred other search pages). People search on the silliest, most amazing things, and someone, somewhere has to be collecting it all and will produce novels or art or poetry all based on such things. I look at my log now and see ‘wrist and had tattoos’, ‘dorothy parker’, ‘dirty stories’, ‘Everything up ’til the killing will be a gas’, and ‘pyro junkies’. And that’s just one sitemeter page. This can make me giggle any day.

But there are other things that are useful. I get to know certain hits by location. I know who’s likely to be getting me from illinois, from eugene oregon. A few from Austin. Certain key spots in Florida. Vancouver. A couple in town here, Sunnyvale, Santa Clara, San Jose. Key users in europe. Couple buddies in New Mexico and Arizona.

I know who these are by the ISP and the location (not always the location you’d expect, my home IP shows up as coming from a totally different end of silicon valley than I actually live in, something about how the ISP has things configured). I know by (sometimes) browser type, OS. For most of my friends, I sorta know when you’ve visited. I know partly because you’re the ones who hit without a reference from a search engine, or sometimes because you show as referred from your own blog (clicking from your blogrolls).

The ones that I ponder over though, and the reason for this post, are the ones I see regularly whom I don’t know. I puzzle over certain entities. Someone who hits me from Sunnyvale CA with an ISP listed as inktomi.com. No idea who you are, but I see you regularly. Hits from San Francisco, or from San Jose. You’re not in my mental list of readers I know. Readers in New Zealand. Readers in Texas who are not the usual gang of blogger-freinds (People from Dallas or from College Station). Kent, Washington. Buffalo, New York. Blackpool, Lancaster (I want to say, how’s that count of holes coming, but no that’s blackburn).

It’s funny because I feel like I should know who’s reading. I get a lot of hits from some of the strangest places, google and other blogs I’m bloggrolled on, places where someone will link to some entry like my one on jessie combs, or on driving my jeep in a kilt, or my old ‘what’s fifty-six’ entry. Those I understand though. It’s the ones who are clearly regular readers, yet unknown that always makes me wonder.

Celebrations of Trance

Happy birthday, one (or two Depending on how you count it) late, to TranceJen. Trance, if you gots and amazon wishlist, let it be known to me. Happy day, baby. Kisses all over…

Happy birthday, one (or two Depending on how you count it) late, to TranceJen.

Trance, if you gots and amazon wishlist, let it be known to me.

Happy day, baby. Kisses all over…

A Man Called Elvis

I’m talkin bout the man, I’m talkin bout the man A man called Elvis U oughta get 2 know him U oughta try him (stolen from Prince with no apology whatsoever) I finally re-created my about me page. When I did my page redesign (with added piracy, thanks to Doxy), I forgot about it and […]

I’m talkin bout the man, I’m talkin bout the man
A man called Elvis
U oughta get 2 know him
U oughta try him

(stolen from Prince with no apology whatsoever)

I finally re-created my about me page. When I did my page redesign (with added piracy, thanks to Doxy), I forgot about it and never got around to porting the template over.

The text is mostly from a short bio I sent the j-con organizers when I got picked to be on a panel (alas, I didn’t actually make it to j-con, that’s how my year’s been, plans made and broken a million times). But I liked what I sent them so it lives on.

Anyway, it’s linked from the cartoon elvis pic on the left and the about karl elvis section on the right, and includes a bonus kilted-elvis picture (though not a NHT picture).

Santa’s Little Whore

I love what I find in my sitemeter. I got hits today on the phrase “Santa’s Little Whore”. I love it. C’mere, Santa’s Little Whore, wherever you are!

I love what I find in my sitemeter.

I got hits today on the phrase “Santa’s Little Whore”.

I love it. C’mere, Santa’s Little Whore, wherever you are!

BoingBoinged over the death of mashuptown

http://www.boingboing.net/2005/11/28/riaa_targets_mashups.html

Hey, I got a mention in BoingBoing. Sweet.

Alas, it’s because I hipped Cory to the demise of one of my favorite places in the internet, Mashuptown.

My brutha-man Art has been hosting some of the freshest, tastiest mashups around, but the RIAA nazis are on his track. It’s a sad day, but I’m still off to buy Mashuptown swag to show the man some support.

Thanks for the mashups, Art.

WWPD (What Would a Pirate Do?

I love getting a mysterious package in the mail. Well, unless there are, like, human heads in it. * I just got this: From the lovely and talented DarkNeuro. And my birthday isn’t even ’til next week. * in fact I don’t even mind the human heads, if they’re nice ‘n fresh…

I love getting a mysterious package in the mail.

Well, unless there are, like, human heads in it. *

I just got this:

11570-2

From the lovely and talented DarkNeuro.

And my birthday isn’t even ’til next week.

* in fact I don’t even mind the human heads, if they’re nice ‘n fresh…