Our talk of subserviance yesterday (or was it the day before?) reminded me of an ego that permeates Western Culture. I step up and he steps down. I squash his face with my boot. I smile. He wears a frown. Why are those who are subserviant seen as a lower class? Sometimes they are pitied. At other times, they are mocked. What if the slave takes joy in serving the so-called master? What exactly is the problem in that? This feature of our culture reminds me of fundamentalism. I see you as subserviant, so I t...
Now, inline images have always been a problem. What if the link doesn't exist anymore? Well, I must maintain them in a proper place, then! I suspect that will be on the server itself. IE, the link will have to be local. Yessiree. So, let's give it a whirl.  Now! Isn't that lovely? I'll find out the answer to that question in a few moments. The simplest solution has now been implemented. Now I am off to gnash my teeth during my dreams. ...
Christian, in his infinite wisdom and silliness, typed the following to me on some sort of chat mechanism. The mechanism itself involves a type of grease-stained rodent not found in these parts any longer. In fact, **all** of the rodents are gone. One day, no one could find one. I'm surprised the mechanism survives and is still in working condition this evening. I mourn the loss of the rodentia. **BUT** ... Christian, in his infinite wisdom and silliness, typed the following to me: > My trust issues stem ...
I have just rewritten the script which slurps up new blog entries. This time, instead of whatever the first pattern was I used (lack of pattern at all - ie, haphazard?) or the prototype pattern, I have opted for the elegance of the module pattern. Have I tested it? **No.** Is this entry part of the test? **Yes.** So, thirty or so minutes later, I have completed this so-called module pattern. The code can be seen [here](https://github.com/inhortte/blog_to_mongo/blob/module_pattern/lib/entry.js). It is ...
#### Pink kolmteist > A knife has sliced that blue dome and I watch the rift slowly heal. Were I Shambal, which greatfully I am not, I'd sit in a bare room thinking. I've just started writing and I've already lied. The room is not completely bare. A low table sits off-center. A rumpled, stained, blue-white blanket is draped over one corner, splaying also about the floor. A dirty cushin or two or three lie about. Perhaps more are under the blanket. I've always been amazed at the lengths he goes to to prov...
The *prototype* version of **blog_to_mongo** is not grabbing topics, arranging them, finding their ids, and scrunching them into the *topic_ids* array of the *entry* in **MongoDB**. We'll see if it is now and revisit this post shortly. Excellent! I'll consider this **bug** closed. Speaking of which, I need real bug tracking for these projects. I'll defer to [github](http://github.com), I **guess**. ...
My mothers **insanity** seethes about the house. It crawls and infests every nook and can of jellied cranberry sauce. Pleasant, it is not. She stood in the doorway of this bedroom at nigh nine o'clock this morning fuming. > This is why you have to live in the same place as us, Bob! > I need help! He [Dad] can't remember anything. He's lost his mind. > It is making me crazy. Well, Mom, you already are crazy. As I showered, I pondered what she said and her intentions behind it. My conclusion was as it alwa...
As an experiment, I'm switching from the *Module* pattern of the **Entry** object to the *Prototype* pattern (and likewise to the *prototype* git branch). This humble post is a **test**. Soon, we shall see if it has worked. And, by fumbling around with the methods (ie, sending the object **this** to each fucking one), I have made it work. Cute, eh? ...
I have arrived to my lonely but satisfactory hotel room from the *atrium*. It's more of a dining room than *atrium*, really, but it serves both purposes, so I shall continue to call it *atrium*. In the *atrium* were victuals. I took them in my furry paws and ravenously filled my gaping maw. It was, also, satisfactory. I now sip a glass of red wine. The pain in my chest has receded. I only thought about possibilities briefly before falling asleep last night. Surely, I could have died yesterday. The vehicle ...
I have arrived to my lonely but satisfactory hotel room from the *atrium*. It's more of a dining room than *atrium*, really, but it serves both purposes, so I shall continue to call it *atrium*. In the *atrium* were victuals. I took them in my furry paws and ravenously filled my gaping maw. It was, also, satisfactory. I now sip a glass of red wine. The pain in my chest has receded. I only thought about possibilities briefly before falling asleep last night. Surely, I could have died yesterday. The vehicle ...
I am **displaced** into Little Rock, Arkansas. My current place of residence is not unpleasant. The pain in my chest is, however. I left Lisa's this morning a little before eight. I was eager to get back on the road. The road has always beckoned, be it by *air*, *land* (in this case, my truck) or *thought* (unfortunately the most common case). I enjoyed the drive. It was freedom. I felt alive. I crossed Tenessee and listened to **Amarok**. I was momentarily brought back to 2006. It always amazes me how, t...
