A little preamble for those who don't follow Jesus and Mo. The comic contains depictions of Jesus and Muhammad, with guest appearances from Moses – who, in his later years, has developed an interest in philosophy and New Age religious 'experiences'.

The barmaid is a recurring character, an atheist who strongly disagrees with Muhammad and Jesus on most things. Here's a rare moment of agreement between the three.

Jesus and Mo 10/7/09: Mouth

Today's episode appears to have been inspired by this, also a good read.

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Dutch is beautiful. I can read it without knowing any.

Unintentionally hilarious headline: Marokkanen gooien homo in het water (Moroccans throw gay in the water).

I'm currently watching Fitna, and yes, it's most definitely for work.

Two dreams...

One in which I was crossing Oxford Road, but the weather was temperate with scattered frictionlessness, so I ended up more or less skating across, still drifting sideways. Surreal and emotionless.

In the other, my home and garden were full of awesome, mostly endangered, wild animals. Um, yes. I watched a few, including a small black tapir-bearcub-wombat-looking thing, chase each other round the garden. Next, I discussed with another human occupant the possibility of the animals' breeding ("you can't be suggesting we separate the red pandas. They're on the brink of extinction!" "Oh, well, if they're on the brink, of course not" – they're actually classified vulnerable, as my naughty avatar well knew, but baby pandas is baby pandas and as such trump strict accuracy).

I wandered into the kitchen, where I decided that the tigers' cages were too small, to be honest, and in addition someone had thought the best way to introduce them was the time-honoured gerbil technique of partitioning one enclosure into two so the new roommates were able to smell each other and grow accustomed. However, I decided this probably would work, and the animals in question were pawing each other like playful kittens, so that was all right.

At one point midway through, I recall thinking "I hate that I can't tell if this is a dream or not." (As you can see, I'm not quite there with the lucid dreaming, but someday!) I also cuddled a pangolin's tummy, but it was not anatomically accurate – more like a tortoise-puppy hybrid with a few lame attempts at scales. I appreciated the effort, though.

My dreams are ridiculously easy to analyse.

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How young Suitov feels about Fi:

( 2 silly pop videos )

1. Can you cook?

I can follow instructions competently, until something calls for manual skill (for example, anything beyond "fold X into Y"). I do not improvise with anything dangerous, e.g. hot ovens or bladed machinery. Generally I confine myself to grilling false meats and boiling chlorophyll to eat therewith, or stir frys.

2. What was your dream growing up?

Odd question. I suppose a growing-up with a bunch of komodo dragons and red pandas would've been quite dreamy, actually. Or a growing-up as a space pirate chieftain. I'd add "being raised by dogs", but I sort of was. Grew up with two.

( Read the rest of this entry » )

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The ongoing saga of - well, mostly Dork Boy in this bit.

Little Rigey, in a four-and-a-half-year-old fit of temper, had declared that he was going to be an agrochemist and not a warlord. For this, he had been barred from the library.

(I didn't want to leave it there; this would've been longer with more dog if I hadn't run out of time and needed to go zzz.)

I know this expression. EXACTLY this expression.

I miss them so much. :(

I JUST TURNED DOWN A FOUNTAIN FAERIE QUEST, THINKING IT WAS THE WATER BINT.

For those who have no idea about Neopets, that's kind of a huge deal as far as pretend cartoon doggy pets go.

Special Wade icon and Blues Brothers Angel Dog to celebrate my fail.

An informative diagram. Go look.

SO WHO ARE THE REAL ALIENS HERE, EH???

(*title puns)

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Overtures

I lick my nose and turn my head askance
to let you know I mean you only well,
and duck my head in playful bow: let's dance.
Oh no? Your choice. So, care to have a smell?
Well, let me sniff your bottom — what's amiss?
I'm friendly, look: my tail is whizzing round;
let's — gracious me, whatever was that hiss?
You heard that, right? Extraordinary sound.
So anyway, you want to see my toys?
Or run around and bark and bark at bikes?
Why, there it is again, that hissing noise.
Ignore it; let's play chase. I'll get you — yikes!
I didn't know you had a bunch of those!
That hurt, I — Mummy, help, she got my nose!

---

I'm currently listening to one of cubicgarden's trance mixes. If this thing rickrolls me, I'll have to vanquish him on Monday.

Oh, and as soon as the healing springs faerie heals my Lupe I'm painting her Spotted, because I just got the PB and the spotted Lupe looks just like an African Wild Dog, for which I'm a sucker. (So she'll be a literal Painted Dog, then...)

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The image is Media Response to Celebrity Death from picturesforsadchildren.com. I love it. (Also see the LJ entry if you fancy starting a flame war or being scarred by image macros.)

As for Jackson, all I'll say is that he was cleared of all child abuse charges by a court of law.

edit: All right, all I'll say is the preceding and also the first few seconds of this (0:55-1:05). It's hard to find that scene on the tubes.

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I seem to have become addicted to posting 'microfiction' on Twitter. This must be how they get you sucked in. #Brains.

Question: Would you like, dislike or be indifferent to seeing my Twitter updates mirrored on my blog (probably in a single post per day from some tool like LoudTwitter)?

If I found a thing that would only collect and post updates that contained certain user-defined hashtags, I'd use that for sure.

---

I get my two week placement with FM&T soon. Looking forward to it. I think they want to keep me on for longer.

---

Seen a cool video that will interest Altivo and other fur-types.

That's randomly got me looking at paw glove tutorials on YouTube. I'm not a furry or fursuiter and don't have any interest in the whole full-body itchy-plastic-fuzz deal, but I would love a properly awesome pair of paw gloves with proper pads, like so (but Black Dog, or Grey Dog, instead of Red Fox).

I saw some leatherwork gloves that are nice-looking, but far too fetishy and immobile. I'm nervous about my manual dexterity or movement being impaired in any way. (The shoes are awesome, though.)

I suppose fingerless fursuit gloves would be object-defeatist. I do like my fingerless gloves, though. Shame it's too hot at the moment to wear them.

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Blossoming hatchlings
teeter, flutter, tweet and fall
to fly or feed cats

Songdog's written a post about Haiku Day on Twitter. Seeing his updates (and others') is what's got me doing a bit of haiku'ry there myself. Twitter's character limit lends itself well.

Hence, today, the above in response to this from Altivo. "Tweet" not an intentional pun. Title of post is.

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Removing my cap
the passing of the cortège
sham solemnity

(Not based on an actual event, but could be.)

edit: Also, as I remarked to SongdogMI on Twitter,

Algorithm 5
cryptographically digests
into sixteen bytes

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Slen and I played Arkham Horror round at someone's house last night. It's great fun! We had eight players plus the host, who GMed (doesn't need a GM, but it was very helpful because some of us hadn't played before). In fact we stayed so on top of things that it was really easy to win, despite the GM doing his best to, erm, 'liven things up' for us. Also, I got some odd looks from cooing in delight over the Hound of Tindalos.

During the game I went and talked to the Black Man for a laugh, seeing as my character had a sanity bonus so couldn't die during that encounter. I failed the roll but couldn't be devoured, found it much funny and didn't think much more of it.

So later last night, erm, I had some dreams.

Very, very whacked-out dreams. And I woke up with a non-existent and horrendous pop song in my head, a song that IMO could have come from nowhere but R'lyeh. It seriously took me about ten minutes to stop being very very confused. I was glad of that sanity bonus.

Am now in perfect frame of mind to have a go at fixing mum's Inspiron.

EDIT:

( Read the rest of this entry » )

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( YouTube embed of a Britney parody )

Discuss. (How much you wish girls like this actually existed.)

Recently, Dexter Morgan, sociopathic main character in the Dexter television series (and books, but the series is bizarrely much better).

Otherwise, any narrating male character. If it's first person or there's a wry and cynical voiceover, I identify.

And by identify, I mean... well, what I want to happen in the story is the same as whatever's best for the character (although my goals as reader/viewer remain primarily to be entertained, which can include screwing over the main character royally, of course).

I'm not sure I actually identify with characters in the sense of "feel closer to them because they have something in common with me".

For example, in Joe Abercrombie's First Law trilogy I am particularly keen on the torturer Sand dan Glokta, a former army pretty-boy until he was horribly crippled, and other than his cynicism and dark humour Glokta is not a person with whom I'd want to feel I have much in common. But I still liked him and wanted him to succeed, while with some of the other main characters, though I liked them and found them fascinatingly effed-up too, I wasn't as keyed-up for them to succeed.

I like fictional characters for what life has turned them into and what they do about it next. I don't really put myself in their shoes much, other than "yep, I'd have done the same" / "haha, what a stupid thing to do! Can't wait to see what happens now!"

---

Please nobody say they relate to Weft, or I'll feel a little guilty. >:}

I have been jumped upon by a Staffie on the tram. The Staffie should not, strictly speaking, have been on the tram in the first place, but I wasn't complaining. Any contact with dogs fairly sets me up for the day. I miss them a lot. Besides, he is a friendly Staffie and my trousers are now patched with dog slime. Good Dog. Annoying owners, though.

I think I eye people's dogs in a way that confuses the owners. They jerk the dog away or step off the pavement as if thinking I'm afraid of it, when in fact I'm conducting a leisurely exchange of looks with the dog oblivious to its walking assistant. Guess I should smile too, or say something to the owner. I'm not all that good at smiling to order, though; people occasionally seem to interpret them as angry grimaces or nervousness. And I'm worried people might realisesomehow think I want to kidnap their dog. Honestly, relax, we don't have room at home!

Walking among real people reminds me of being a GCSE French student in France, where attempts to speak the language can be met a little rudely and you occasionally get the feeling they'd rather you didn't bother trying. Yaknow, at least in Germany I was generally spoken to politely and slowly, as if they were pleased I'd made the effort.

Therefore, I present to you Hellmutt's Eurospecies Law:

Humans are from France; dogs are from Germany.

---

Bill Bailey last night was awesome. Highly recommended. I particularly like his musical skits.

We ate at the Eighth Day before the show. I've been in there several times to buy stuff, but never gone to their restaurant. It's a simple and cheerful canteen-style affair, and they get mega points from me for... their toilets! It's something as simple as putting "Unisex" instead of "Disabled" on the third door, but it made me feel so welcome.

Possibly playing Arkham Horror round at someone's house tonight if we can work out how to get there. Hastur la vista, baby!

(edit: I've been #followfridayed on Twitter. Give me a moment to pick up my jaw off the floor.)

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I'm pleased to report that I have seen not one, but two Aibos, and that I still want one.

Aside possibly from hypothetical robot pangolins and Razer from Robot Wars¹, robot dogs are the undisputed coolest thing in existence.

I've also witnessed a Pleo attacking a Sony Rolly.

I want one of these.

Seeing Bill Bailey tonight, woo! I bought Slen a ticket for his birthday.

¹ OK. Dead Metal is awesome too. I so want the thing.

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Oh you silly question. Why would I worship anyone but myself?

(Atheism isn't a "religion", so mine is irrelevant for the sake of this question - which just leaves the autotheism. And if you're wondering to what extent I'm joking when I claim to be an autotheist, good.

I use 'suitheist' and 'autotheist' interchangeably as appropriate, because there's some room for confusion in the latter.)