Inspired by Daz’s post, I e-mailed a complaint to Radio One about Chris Moyles. My general complaint about Chris Moyle’s is that he’s a talentless Chris Evans wannabe (and Evans is a talentless Howard Stern wannabe!), but I kept my message related to the xenophobia Daz pointed out. A few days ago I got a reply from the Beeb Programme Complaints Unit, on paper no less-

Dear Mr Pattinson

Thank you for your e-mail of 4 April 2003.

We’ve thought carefully about the issue you raise, but don’t feel it involves standards questions in the sense that would fall within the scope of our Unit. We do also feel, though, that it’s important for the programme-makers concerned to be aware of your reaction, so we’ll be sending them a copy of what you have written.

If you have any points to make in response, I will ask them to contact you direct. But in any event I am sure they will take note of what you say and bear it in mind when planning future coverage.

Yours sincerely……

Oh well, maybe one day we can really get rid of him and make the airwaves a nicer place.

Somewhere in the Northern Forest, on the way back to the Silver Tower, lives a tribe of chemically induced synesthetes. Because, for instance, certain animal shapes trigger a colour in their vision, they can see past camouflage. This ability makes them great warriors and hunters.

via BoingBoing

The wing was flying low, torpedo height. Fire was reaching out from the ship, still falling short. �They will find us soon.� Karn whispered.

�We hold steady.�

�I know.�

The front bomb bay held six torpedoes on an S-curve rail. They would be fed one by one out of the quarter width door. �Torpedo gone! Bank!� The light bank as the rest of the torpedoes were released spread them in a narrow fan.

�Pull out!� The anti air was closing on them now, tracer passing on either side. There were cracks as shells hit home.

�Hydraulic pressure on the bay doors has dropped off.� Karn announced, �Switching to back up. Nothing. We can not open the rear doors.�

Four of the torpedoes struck home, raising towers of water. The ship began to list immediately, flooding faster than bulkheads could be closed.

One ship remained, but it was out of range of the Waltzer and the old attack ship had some free space to close on the transports.

�Hand crank the front bay closed. We are heading home.�

�Stran?�

�Hardly. I do not think there is enough of Stran left. Communications, raise the Corkscrews, and anyone else you can, and tell them we have to retire.�

Harren adjusted his course so they passed by the Waltzer again, wagging the wing as it passed. �And the best of luck to you brave souls.�

Emily’s word of the day. She says-

It means “To look at each other, each hoping the other will offer to do something which both parties much desire done but which neither is willing to do”. This is a very common situation round here, especially when me and Daz both want cups of tea but can’t be arsed to make it.

120 robotic soldiers, using behaviour modelled upon insect swarms, are to be tested by the US military. Another of the elements I was going to put into Sounds of Soldiers were swarms like this that had been given too complex behaviours and a too high desire to survive, which basically would revolt and desert when asked to go into battle for real.

via GeekPress

Life in America under the Patriot Act. Read and get angry, or scared.

I must admit BIS were the business. Sure anti-pop, possibly a roll-on, but more than likely a spray. BK03 is in a matter of hours and the damn bastard webmaster of the Greatest Website Ever Told will be sleeping on a train getting ready for a day of amazing crap you and i don’t even have a chance to do. Life is good when professional BMX’ers and skaters mess about.

Clay Kitten Shooting. So wrong, yet so, so much fun.

via Blatant Optimism

If I’m so green, then why aren’t I recycling all my old images?