If I knew that updating a .plan file was this entertaining, I would have
started doing semi-regular updates a long time ago. Oh well. My web space
is located at http://nuthouse.org/~hendersa and I can be reached via e-mail
at hendersa@icculus.org.
Archived .plan entries can be seen at http://nuthouse.org/~hendersa/finger.
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*29 March 2002 - Haiku-in' For Great Justice*
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As of late, I've been one hell of a busy guy. Most of the rush rush
has been the side-effect of this being my last week of work at my
current job. Aside from trying to put out all the normal fires, I'm
trying to crank out a boat load of documentation on the side, sift
through resumes for a replacement, and all sorts of other odds and
ends.
Needless to say, having time to update the .plan just hasn't been in
the cards.
My volume of incoming e-mail is starting to increase, since people
are beginning to reach the point of flat-out demanding a .plan
update. While I don't have the time to do an update proper, I
decided that it might be time to show you folks what kind of mail I
get from the people that actually read what I have to say. Since I'm
such a great poet that I don't even know it, I grabbed some random
lines out of various e-mails that I've received, and I'll respond to
each one in the form of a haiku.
So without further ado, let us haiku.
A gentleman e-mailed me the following tidbit:
A slipping gear could let your M203 grenade launcher fire when you least
expect it. That would make you quite unpopular in what's left of your
unit.
... and my response to this wisdom is:
One really does hope
that he did not learn this through
trial and error.
I'm not too sure what the point of this one was:
just thought one should know. sending salamander invasion <beep>
now.
... so I guess I'll just have to say:
Please pass me a share
of whatever this guy is
probably smoking.
I think this one wins the award for the longest sentence I've ever
been sent:
How does it feel to know that you have not only caused valuable
working hours to be lost by A Big Company, undoubtedly to the
detriment of shareholders and economies worldwide, but - not content
to destroy microwave ovens and inspire others to do the same - you've
now inspired an egocentric geek to divert valuable electrons to his
own twisted narcissistic purposes?
... and I'm left scratching my head and asking:
"Punctuation? What's that?"
I somewhat understand this.
Boy that sure runs on.
Even programmers appreciate the .plan:
Are you working in the game industry again? I was reading your plan
files and they are some of the most amusing stories have read for a
while. I particularly like your refusal of rejection letter. A true
classic. Well it will be doing the rounds in the office tomorrow :).
... but just don't expect me to be a serious technical resource:
"Mature industry
professional" I sure as
hell am not these days.
One needs to wonder what kind of IT nightmares exist out there these
days:
I'm nuts and there's a demon underneath our RAS server. Really, there
is.
... but hey, I'll still try to offer you advice:
Perhaps call a priest.
Or maybe even better,
try rebooting it.
Sometimes, you reach a point where things just don't make sense:
someone has got to be sane, and this week it isn't me. and who the
hell put white skittles in my skittles bag?
... and that's where I step in to offer some wisdom:
I am not too sure
those little white thingies are
actually food.
I'll sometimes get compliments about how I look:
I do not mean to interrupt if I am. I just would like to say that
you are a very handsome man.
... and I'm still trying to figure out how to react to those:
Women I don't know
e-mail this on occasion.
I'm flattered, but scared.
Thus ends this installment of "Haiku-in' For Great Justice". Feel
free to e-mail me, since I do actually take the time to answer all
the mail that comes my way. You people are far funnier that anything
I've ever done. Just know that if you say something nutty, you run the
risk of being haiku'd.
You have been warned.