In theory, I agree

The war on terrorism has its upsides, and one of these is the war on pants. It’s probably some deep-rooted biological instinct that makes people want to couple when faced with the possibility of death.

Dawn Olsen wrote this in her blog:

In a post 9-11 world, I feel it’s my duty as a woman to wear clingier clothing, flirt more outrageously, have more orgasms, and get on top more often. In short, anything that’s taboo to the islamofascists.

Dawn Olsen’s picture, from her weblog.

Eric Raymond — geek, open source software advocate, libertarian, sex advisor to computer programmers and gun nu…er, firearms enthusiast — blogged this in reply:

Yes, we’re all Jews now, even blue-eyed Germano-Celtic goyim like me. We are going to be everything the islamofascists fear and hate, and we’re going to glory in it. We’re going to embody all the worst nightmares of those butt-ignorant ragheads in Al-Qaeda. We’re going to kill them, we’re going to subvert their children with MTV, and we’re going to teach their women to wear clingy clothing and say “fuck me” and “fuck you” to men whenever they damn well feel like it.

Eric Raymond’s picture, found with Google.

And, sister? Here’s my ha ha only serious, offered in the same spirit as yours. You are a warrior. I salute you. And if you want to commit exactly the kind of scandalous, adulterous, hedonistic, casual sex best calculated to drive fascists and patriarchs up a wall sometime, I’m your guy. You can be on top.

The sentiment I agree with wholeheartedly — his heart’s in the right place and Dawn’s pretty cute. However, the thought of Raymond sportin’ wood and lying in wait to get his swerve on damn near made me void my bowels in icy fear right at my desk. If I knew the precise set of brain cells that contained that awful, awful mental image, I’d be driving a nail into my head with a ball-peen hammer right now.

More compatibility test results

More results from the AccordionGuy compatibility test from my friends:

Science fiction author, OpenCola founder, BoingBoing editor and EFF Outreach coordinator (and in the future, audio-animatronic attraction at Disneyland): that’s my friend Cory Doctorow. One of my fondest memories of my days in California was the time when he and I went to Disneyland. He walked around the place as if he were Walt himself, chatting up the castmembers and reporting attractions that weren’t working properly.

Cory rated as 68% similar and 69% complementary.

Not even the power of the accordion can protect you from girl trouble, and for that, my friend Adina Goldman has always lent a sympathetic ear and a relevant saucy anecdote.

Adina rated as 75% similar and 73% complementary.

In the parallel universe where my life actually just a TV show, Will McLean is the popular new character. We met at Kick Ass Karaoke, and you’ll often find us on Queen Street, either busking or looking for kicks.

Will rated as 72% similar and 73% complementary.

Here’s Cass Mittlestead, the world’s cutest Johnny Cash impersonator, whom I also met at Kick Ass Karaoke.

Cass rated as 78% similar and 90% complementary.

If there’s debauchery to be had, “Too-tall” Tina Gravelson will be there will bells on. And 8″ platform boots, too! Tina wins the “Most Similar to Me” contest. The only way we differ is that I look even better than she does in fishnet stockings.

Tina rated as 91% similar and 78% complementary.

(In The Happiest Geek on Earth):

Loads-o-stuff

Here are the last few postings from my other blog:

Armed and Dangerous

Google programming contest winner announced

A Python poster for your Saturday amusement

Lisp, lemonade and love

Unholy alliance

Blond again

With the return of the summer comes the return of the return of hair colour tomfoolery. Unfortunately, I seem to have misplaced my camera — I’ll bet I left it at my parents’ house — so I have provided the photo above, which is a reasonable approximation of what I’ll look like for the next few months.

Normally, going blond is something that happens without incident. This time, however, I think my hairstylist Roxy got a bit too liberal with the peroxide, which has left my scalp a little sore for a day or so. Being a guy, I machoed my way through the pain during the bleaching, only to dicover later that I’d earned a small Mikhail Gorbachev-like burn at my hairline, right where I part my hair. Thankfully it’s small, noticeable only if you really look closely and already fading. I must have a word with Roxy when I see her next.

I can still take comfort in the fact that:

• On the scale of disastrous results of male endurance rituals, it’s pretty minor.
• I look mahhhh-velous.

Compatibility test result #2

Super-sexy Brit chick, Queen of the Inappropriately Funny Adventure (and the person I know who’s most likely to end up as a character on Bobbins) Helen Waters submitted her results for the compatibility test:

you are 89% similar

you are 77% complimentary

Helen writes:

Wow, I’m a more likely mate than George, and more likely to sleep with you too!

Thank you, thank you, thank you, Sweet Lord Jesus, for answering my most fervent prayer.

Soccer: a bridge to other cultures

Stavros the Wonder Chicken, a Canadian expat living in Korea, has been doing the occasional bit of what’s been happening with the World Cup off the soccer field in his blog, EmptyBottle.org. In his latest posting, he has this photo of a soccer player doing one of those second-grade-kid-who’s-never-been-anywehere imitations of his hostesses’ eyes:

His hostesses should’ve countered with Brazilian stereotypes: they could’ve had a cab driver hold him for ransom, or maybe they could’ve subjected him to a rabid monkey attack.

Gun-toting Catholic girls? Count me in!

Apparently, women and girls from Mafia families are helping out more and more with the Family Business. We’re talking well-dressed black-skirted women with a taste for blood. Being Italian, I’m sure they dig guys with accordions (especially since I play a mean Speak Softly Love, a.k.a. The Theme from The Godfather).

Or, given that neither of us can resist a good Mafia movie, this could be the germ for that sitcom George and I have been threatening to write. Whaddaya think, George — Gilmore Girls meets The Sopranos? Bianca the Slackjawed-fucking-rat Slayer? Work with me, paysan.