Wednesday, September 24, 2003
My father was a captain for the Tampa Fire Department, and as with most government jobs, his role was somewhat political in the sense that he had to maintain a credible reputation. I, on the other hand, didn't give two hoots about maintaining an air of political correctness, and had started to get into increasing mischief with each and every school I was signed up for, and summarily booted out of. My primary crime was accumulation of too many demerits, the de facto standard for mischief accounting in private schools.
Main Entry: de·mer·it
Pronunciation: di-'mer-&t, dE-
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Middle French & Medieval Latin; Middle French demerite, from Medieval Latin demeritum, from neuter of demeritus, past participle of demerEre to be undeserving of, from Latin, to earn, from de- + merEre to merit
Date: 15th century
1 obsolete : OFFENSE
2 a : a quality that deserves blame or lacks merit : FAULT, DEFECT b : lack of merit
3 : a mark usually entailing a loss of privilege given to an offender
After the 5th school or so, my parents were at their wits end and were seriously considering sending me to military school, to correct my delinquent and wholly embarrasing character.
On or about my 14th birthday, I came home from school and found a package on my bed - a shiny, brand spankin' new Commodore 64 personal computer. As a last ditch effort to keep me focused on something other than wreaking havok on an almost daily basis, I now had something to concentrate my energies on: BASIC programming on the C64 platform.
I probably logged 18 hours a day, for the next 12 months, in front of a 14" B&W television set - back in those days, RF modulators were all the rage and there was no such thing as a high resolution or composite monitor, at least not in the commodity hardware category easily purchased by a 14 year old's weekly stipend. Programs were stored to and read from an audio tape recorder attached to the C64, and on average it took about 5 minutes to get anything onto tape and/or off of tape.
I think I could have talked faster than that tape recorder mass storage mechanism, but it was fascinating all the same.
Main Entry: de·mer·it
Pronunciation: di-'mer-&t, dE-
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Middle French & Medieval Latin; Middle French demerite, from Medieval Latin demeritum, from neuter of demeritus, past participle of demerEre to be undeserving of, from Latin, to earn, from de- + merEre to merit
Date: 15th century
1 obsolete : OFFENSE
2 a : a quality that deserves blame or lacks merit : FAULT, DEFECT b : lack of merit
3 : a mark usually entailing a loss of privilege given to an offender
After the 5th school or so, my parents were at their wits end and were seriously considering sending me to military school, to correct my delinquent and wholly embarrasing character.
On or about my 14th birthday, I came home from school and found a package on my bed - a shiny, brand spankin' new Commodore 64 personal computer. As a last ditch effort to keep me focused on something other than wreaking havok on an almost daily basis, I now had something to concentrate my energies on: BASIC programming on the C64 platform.
I probably logged 18 hours a day, for the next 12 months, in front of a 14" B&W television set - back in those days, RF modulators were all the rage and there was no such thing as a high resolution or composite monitor, at least not in the commodity hardware category easily purchased by a 14 year old's weekly stipend. Programs were stored to and read from an audio tape recorder attached to the C64, and on average it took about 5 minutes to get anything onto tape and/or off of tape.
I think I could have talked faster than that tape recorder mass storage mechanism, but it was fascinating all the same.
Tuesday, September 23, 2003
Before I embarked upon my illustrious career as a terrorist, I was a mere mortal born and raised in Tampa Bay, Florida. Tampa is mostly harmless in the sense that nothing of importance really happens here, give or take an NFL event or two and the World Headquarters for old guys in funny hats. Tampa could be considered the Redneck Mecca of the South, and sports more hillbillys per capita than any other state in the Union. The regional pastime of Tampa consists largely of maintaining gainful unemployment whilst knocking up your girlfriend out of wedlock, and the obligatory act of beer can crushing on forehead(s).
My folks were normal people, and worked hard to send me to private schools, although I managed to get myself booted out of each and every one of them, 7 schools in total. I don't claim complete responsibility for those actions, as I was a bit troubled early on due to the fact that I was adopted, and could never for the life of me figure out why two people would collectively make a decision together, then not muster up enough honor or integrity to support their child through life. My parents were always honest, sometimes too honest, and I knew from day one that I had somehow done something wrong at the ripe old age of 1 week to get myself auctioned off to the highest bidder, a major unexplained and misunderstood bone of contention in my perceived existence. Hindsight always being 20/20, I now know that I was given way more opportunities as an adoptee than being raised by the biological ding dongs, but I am getting ahead of my story on that subject; more on that one later.
Needless to say, I didn't have high hopes or aspirations to become a terrorist later in life, although that's the path that I apparently chose.
My folks were normal people, and worked hard to send me to private schools, although I managed to get myself booted out of each and every one of them, 7 schools in total. I don't claim complete responsibility for those actions, as I was a bit troubled early on due to the fact that I was adopted, and could never for the life of me figure out why two people would collectively make a decision together, then not muster up enough honor or integrity to support their child through life. My parents were always honest, sometimes too honest, and I knew from day one that I had somehow done something wrong at the ripe old age of 1 week to get myself auctioned off to the highest bidder, a major unexplained and misunderstood bone of contention in my perceived existence. Hindsight always being 20/20, I now know that I was given way more opportunities as an adoptee than being raised by the biological ding dongs, but I am getting ahead of my story on that subject; more on that one later.
Needless to say, I didn't have high hopes or aspirations to become a terrorist later in life, although that's the path that I apparently chose.
Monday, September 22, 2003
I didn't start out life expecting to be a terrorist, and I can't remember a single day that I woke up and thought, "hey, wouldn't it be great to be a terrorist, living here in the U.S.A.?"
But rest assured, I am most definitely a terrorist, according to the current administration.
But rest assured, I am most definitely a terrorist, according to the current administration.
Saturday, September 20, 2003
I am a terrorist.
