This Dilbert comic totally reminded me of a moment of my life!:
The comic is funny, because Dilbert’s boss simply thinks he can crumple up his problems, throw the piece of paper away, and have them solved.

We all know the real world doesn’t work like that.

Or does it?

I left TJ to return to Woodbridge High School — best decision of my life, since that’s how I met Carolyn.

1994 - Carolyn - senior pic

I made the right call.

This happened one quarter through 10th grade. Leaving at 7AM and arriving home at 5PM only to have 3 hours of homework was not cool. Having classes that were harder than AP classes — but not getting college credit for them because these were the “normal” classes — also not cool. (I ended up taking AP classes in high school. Not a lot, but enough to spare me the year of CS classes that causes most Virginia Tech CS students to drop out.)

So anyway, this was a good decision. That grading period [Fairfax had four 9 week periods, Prince William had six 6 week periods] was the worst in my life. I even had my only F, ever. In Spanish 3. Which was odd, because I ended up doing just fine in Spanish 4 at Woodbridge. The point being: TJ was a lot of extra work, with very little benefit. I got into Virginia Tech based on my 740 math SAT score, and it didn’t really matter if I took magnet school classes, or normal school classes. Most people I knew ultimately dropped out. Those who didn’t ended up in the same Virginia Tech classes with me. One even told me he wish he’d dropped out, since he did a lot more work to get to the same place.

1994  - NOT Woodbridge High School - 0530 - NOT Clint's Senior 1992 pic - cropped & artifacts removed - upgraded 2010/12

I graduated–the same as everyone else. But I didn’t waste as much of my childhood on pointless overachieving, and ended up much happier than most of them.

SO ANYWAY, there I am, in Woodbridge High School, on my first day there, sometime around approximately November, 1989.

I had my first 6 weeks report card in my hand.

I didn’t really like those grades — they were really, really bad grades.

So, much like Dilbert’s boss in the above comic, I threw the paper away.

Beavis - garbage man

Beavis — in control.

Guess what? My report card was blank for that grading period. It only showed up as 6 weeks missing under the Prince William Count system, even though I had missed 9. The 2nd 6 week grading period, I was there for half of that, so I got within 3 weeks (I about tripled my GPA, and for some reason made a switch from Spanish 3 to Spanish 2–even though I had already taken Spanish 2 at TJ. So I ended up taking 5 yrs of spanish by graduation: 1, 2, 2, 3, and 4).

Yes — I got to throw away my grades. FOR REAL. MY REPORT CARD WAS BLANK, AND IT WAS FINE.

1989ish - Spanish class - mi abuelo

maybe the fact that this is what I did during Spanish 2 class didn’t help

Ironically, it was my bitch of a Spanish 2 teacher who was the only one to penalize me for having a blank report card period. I had a tie between my semester grades — let’s say an A and a B. Rather than rounding up, she chose to round down, because of the blank I had. Didn’t matter that I’d already passed Spanish 2 in the first place. This was the same bitch who gave me detention for walking into the class with gum — even though gum was allowed in all other classes. It wasn’t enough that you spit it out when asked, she considered it an offense if you didn’t remember this instantly upon walking into the class. BIIITCH!

20061110 - TAMPONS - no, not really - Big Red made me bite my tongue - 108-0864

I *SUFFER* for my gum habit! And it’s WORTH IT!

Anyway — this Dilbert comic satirizes the concept of being able to solve one’s problems by such a simple method as throwing away a piece of paper.

But truth is stranger than fiction — I’ve done what Dilbert’s boss did above. And it worked!

That, my friends, is what the SubGenius concept of SLACK is all about!

20080705 - X-Day at Brushwood - 162-6214 - Bob mousepad



Another high school story… I used to hang out with Brent a lot in high school (and in college). Friends of Clint these days might know him as “Mark’s older brother”, but back then Mark was simply “Brent‘s younger brother”. I’ve never met a pair of siblings I’ve hung out with more in my life.

1991ish - Clint's room - Brent - trying to be evil - sitting - 0451

Brent trying to be evil

I used to enjoy playing darts — I put dartboards on my door. When I wasn’t throwing knives into my door, or playing guitar, I was throwing darts into my dartboard.

199407 - Clint's room - Brent - 0498 - sitting

This is the room it happened in :)

Brent and I invented a game that we called “Speed Darts”. You see, in order to alleviate the boredom of being a highschooler, one must increase risk.

1991ish - Clint's room - Brent - 0447

in retrospect, Brent probably regrets playing

Here’s how you play: You throw a dart (or 2), then the second you are done throwing it, you go and pull the dart out of the dartboard, while the next player throws his dart (or 2).

Then, the 2nd player retrieves his dart(s), while you run back and throw your dart(s).

Basically, you are running up to a dart board and pulling a dart out WHILE darts are being thrown at the same board.

And how exciting and paranoid of a game this was!

199407 - Clint's room - Clint, Brent - looking off to the side - 0492

me and Brent in front of the door we threw darts at

I never got darted, but I did eventually dart Brent. Twice.

Though I think one of the two times I darted him may have been in my front yard, and not related to the game.

“Oops, dart in your neck!”


Here’s a story. The time I may have almost died. You see, we didn’t know that the boiler had to have its chimney swept from time to time, just like a normal fireplace chimney.


must also be cleaned from time to time

One night, I was sleeping downstairs. The year was around 2001 or so.

20051008 - camping rained out again - party at Clint & Carolyn's - 100-0029 - Stacy, Clint passed out

this story happened about in this exact spot here

The music that is normally playing 24/7 in our house stopped.

I awoke to the beep of a carbon monoxide detector going off. It took awhile to wake me up.

I woke up, and the house was full of smoke. Sick, choking fumes. Burning heating oil (which is the same thing as diesel truck fuel).

Freaked out, opened up the door, ran upstairs and turned the thermostat down so the boiler would turn off. Possibly used the emergency cut-off switch (red light switch), but probably not.


This is the room I was in (sans addition), and it was about this smokey.

We had to call a chimney sweep and have them service our boiler’s chimney before we could use it again.

And the reason I heard the carbon monoxide alarms? Simple: The smoke had gotten thick enough to obscure the laser on the CD player.


angry old boiler from 1930s wants you fucking dead

In fact, the CD player never worked right again. Not Carolyn’s 100 disc changer, not my 200 disc changer. Best Buy fucked me on the warranty too, refusing to replace it on the 4th repair by retroactively declaring the three previous repairs to simply be cleanings. $400 CD player + $30 warranty, and it had only lasted 4 or so years.

199811 - Clint's room - before moving out - hardware stuff - b4c7

This seems to be my only picture of my 100-disc changer, which is the bottom black component on the huge stack of hardware on my TV here. I think the VCRs are the only things still alive in 2010 (when I wrote this post).

This experience saved me some money. I permanently stopped patronizing Best Buy, except for that time I did something that profited me and screwed them. Can’t say what it is. I permanently stopped buying CD players. I decided I’d never purchase a standalone hardware player again. This experience is ultimately what moved me to mp3s.

And mp3s? Way more rewarding than CDs. You actually get statistics, you get instant access to everything, you get amazing playlists. Nine years later, I’ve finally created the proper programs, infrastructure, systems, and best practices to get the most out of my mp3s. It took a decade, but I got used to doing things the mp3 way. I now feel I have more control over what I listen to than ipod users, or even other people who have mp3s. Explaining the whys and hows would be kind of boring.

But anyway, out of the ashes of our boiler’s stinky oil smoke, rose a new way of doing things. We have a heat pump now, too. This story can never repeat itself–for multiple reasons.

20081231 - 2008 music graph - top 15 - OVERVIEW / LESS DETAIL - 2wk - min zoom

only possible with mp3s -- you can't do this with analog music listening habits. No automatic data logging!


So the other day, I needed to drag a window from my secondary monitor to my primary monitor (tv)…

But the secondary was off, so I wouldn’t be able to put my mouse on the window (beucase I couldn’t see it)…

And I didn’t want to get up to turn it on….

So I used VNC to VNC to myself, and did it that way. This means I had a window on my desktop that was my entire computer. So there were 2 copies of everything. And if I moved my mouse pointer inside the VNC window, it would attempt to move my mouse pointer to the same place it was pointing to on the window within.

Sure, it was hard for awhile, fighting the fact that my mouse was trying to be in two places at once.

But in the end, I won.

I got that window dragged. w00t.

Daniel H adds: “I am both appalled and filled with admiration.” (more…)

Here’s an old story… The year was probably around 1991 or so.

1991ish - Clint's room - Clint - close-up - 0446

me, 1991ish

I would skip lunch every day during the week, so that I could pool my lunch money in addition to my $2/week allowance and be able to afford a new cassette each weekend at Potomac Mills

1991ish - Ravi's random picture of some girl from Potomac Mills jewely store - we dared him - (by Ravi S) - 0440

Random hot ‘older’ chick (now younger than me, I bet) that we dared Ravi to take a random picture of. Potomac Mills Mallrat days, 1991ish.

Occasionally, I would buy an album simply because I’d heard someone mention the name, or because I thought the cover art was good. Especially if it was on a label I liked, like Noise Records.

20080419 - Sabbat concert at Jaxx - 154-5494 - Clint & his autographed albums

Dreamweaver: One of the greatest albums of all time.

There was no real way to find out about music. Everyone else’s taste sucked. For instance, to get my first Misfits album, I asked punks in the record store which one I should buy. They sent me home with Earth A.D.. Yay.

1990ish - The Misfits - Die Die My Darling - front cover - black on white (traced by Clint)

Earth A.D.: A great Misfits album to start with. If you can handle that, the rest will be easy. Here’s a drawing I traced from the Die Die My darling 12-inch vinyl single. DDMD is also on Earth A.D.

So anyway — this week, I decided to buy Slip It In, by Black Flag. Without knowing at all what it sounded like.

To this day, I can’t STAND Henry Rollins, OR HIS FUCKING NECK. (Except his open letter to Ann Coulter. That was awesome.)

Suffice to say, I was incredibly, incredibly disappointed with this album. I found it to be one of the most annoying, grating things that I’ve ever heard. And I was someone who pretty much listened exclusively to speedmetal (as it was called then, today, thrash metal more accurately describes the specific metal I would listen to).

20080704 - X-Day at Brushwood - 161-6150-diptych-161-6151 - Crock Of Shit

”What is this shit?!?!?!?!”

I tore the cover up into tiny pieces. I then consumed each and every tiny piece, until the entire album cover had been eaten. Since I thought it was shit, it was fitting to use my body to turn it into actual shit.

20070610 - Jess & Nate's wedding - (by Casey) - Carolyn, Clint eating his tie - 541908297_3ec954bb08_b

Sometimes I eat weird things. Like a whole piece of paper during class in college once, ’cause I was so hungry and I don’t cut class.

I then broke apart the plastic cassette. I stretched the tape out from my best friend Sam Watson‘s house, all the way to my house.

path of Black Flag cassette tape

path of Black Flag cassette stretch

Never before have I destroyed music in such a total fashion.

the Album Tacos version of this album would have tasted much better…

Anyway, the title refers to one of my best Halloween costumes. This would be around 8th or 9th grade, when I took a broken cassette or two, and covered myself in cassette tape, and simply went as “Cassette Man”. I did this with blank tapes that had broken from overuse or abuse. It was a pretty cool costume, and I bet no pictures of it exist :/

1991ish - Clint's room - Sam, Clint - playing guitar - 0441

Me & Sam Watson, 1991ish, making ridiculous music that I could stand far more than Black Flag’s ”Slip It In”.


So, Dildo Valerie‘s blog had a post called “life art“, where she talked about some of the stupid shit she does to have fun. It made me think of my own stupid shit, though it quite possibly doesn’t fall into the “life art” category. It was still fun.

We used to take our bicycles…

postcard - naked women on tandem bicycle - b41c2 (b&w)

Is this viewable to the public? It’s flagged as “moderate” on flickr.

And go to a busy corner in Lake Ridge (Oakwood Dr. & Woodfern Ct. was our favorite)…

2003 - Woodbridge - my childhood home - with cars in driveway -  o (by Britt)

My house from ~1982-1999.

Then we would walk/run our bikes into each other, to create a realistic crash…

20091206 - hit a deer - front left - GEDC0912

A real accident — with real deer poop

We would then get under the bikes, and twist our body into painful looking positions, to simulate crash injuries…

20090829 - Evan's parents' cabin - (by Tabbitha) - 0 - Clint - funny face, thumb touching arm - 3886135214_0c4fae8bf1_b

Help! I’ve fallen in a bike accident, and I can’t get up!

Of course, we weren’t really bloody…

19891031 - Sam W, Sara W - Halloween costumes - 0410

Sarah and Sam W… Sam was the one I typically did this prank with.

We would then wait for a car to come by, and stop all concerned, and be like, “ARE YOU OKAY?!?!?!?!?!”

20050910 - camping - 0682 - Vicky xterra

“Hey… Are you kids hurt?”

1990s (mid) - Theta Zeta - Ben - 05

“What the hell’s wrong with you guys?! Are you okay?! Your bodies are so twisted up… I think… I’m gonna… be… sick….”

But it was pretty fun to mess with people. For a second, they were tricked into believing they had witnessed VIOLENT TEENAGE HORROR!! But in reality, it was fake:

postcard - what's that up on the road a head - b39c1 (b&w)

I wonder if they would fall for this one too?

And the marks were of course the most helpful, good-willed people.

We weren’t targeting douchebags — we were targeting good Samaritans! Oh the irony.

I wonder if Doug got the same reactions when he went around like this?

1990s (mid) - Theta Zeta - Doug - covered in blood - 20


Mischief. Good times.


20070317 - Carolyn's birthday and St. Patrick's Day party - (by AE) - 425317397_ef685e8da1_o - Nate - eating amazing pie

If only the culinary experience I’m about to share with you was as good as this one was. If only.

There once was a sketch on Saturday Night Live where a guy had recently died, and got to talk to an angel about his life. “Ask me any question”, the angel said. “What’s the grossest thing I’ve ever eaten?”

“Ohhh, heh heh heh”, said the angel… “You don’t want to know that, believe me.”

“Okay, what’s the 671st grossest thing I’ve ever eaten?”, the man asked. The angel answered, and it was still disgusting.

Let’s just say that the story I am about to tell — I certainly hope there are not 670 grosser stories that I don’t even know about. In fact, this almost was one I didn’t know about either.

Carolyn’s family had served waffles or pancakes — I can’t remember which, so I’m going to go with pancakes for this story. But they were serving them out one person at a time, for some odd reason. Always being a hungry man, I opted to go first and eat my pancakes. BTW, I totally douse mine in syrup. And then I cut my pancakes up to expose more surface area and try to make sure syrup has completely saturated every cubic millimeter of my panckes, to 100% possible saturation levels. So the syrup is an important aspect to the story.

This is how I should have reacted:

Chad's 2nd-to-last snowy party - Clint eating pancakes - 109554658_0595e87908_o

“Wait a second. Something about these pancakes tastes funny…”

But that’s not how I reacted. Instead, I said, “Mmmmm”, and continued to merrily eat my pancake.

Next up was Carolyn’s brother Jay. He was quite happy to get pancakes too:

Chad's 2nd-to-last snowy party - bacon served to Chad, ,Eli 109554704_fe342f4e67_o

I want pancakes too! And bacon! GIMME!

But then Jay made a startling observation. “This syrup is full of ants!”

Praise “Bob”, this is NOT what I want to be eating. ANTS!

The ant to syrup ratio was a bit lower than this, but there was a whole bottle full of them. We’re talking 100s of ants. I probably ate at least 20 ants myself, unless perhaps they did not go through the syrup nozzle.  In which case, I just got the sheddings, poop, skin, and decomposition of the ants that had previously died in the syrup. Not really much better…

“These boys get that syrup in ’em, they get all antsy in their pantsy.”

Suffice to say, everybody else got to eat pancakes without ant-syrup in them….

Chad's 2nd-to-last snowy party - Evan doesn't know what a fork is - 109554555_6af61611cb_o

“Yay my pancakes don’t have ants on them!” … “My fork doesn’t either!”

I kind of felt that better care could be taken to not serve a house guest ants, but hey, I guess I shouldn’t just trust that people’s food is edible when they give it to me. (Hey, the pancakes were good, and ants are nutritious. Just not what I would have chosen to eat.)

Chad's 2nd-to-last snowy party - Carolyn, girl - cooking our late-night meal - 109554264_b234fcc0e5_o

Little do they know that we’ve replaced their normal pancakes with Folgers pANTcakes — now with Flavor Ants(tm).

Nowadays, I inspect my food more carefully before eating it.

Especially if it comes from  a Sawyer:

20090912 - Britt & Chris's wedding - reception - Clint, Carolyn - funny cupcake face - (by Dad)

“Initiating ant scan.” ………. “Ant scan? I was not aware of that particular defense mechanism”


The nerve of these fucking 80-year-old drivers. They back into your car at a gas station, and then refuse to give you their information!

That’s not how the system works, buddy!

It’s nice when the police can actually do something for you! This is the 2nd accident in a row where a whitehead refused to give me his information.  The entitled Baby Boomer generation seems to think that if you are younger than them, that they get to make up their own rules for governance of society. The rate of people giving me information after a car accident is now 100% for those under 50 yrs of age, and 0% for those over 50 yrs of age.  

I’ve now had 7 accidents: 4 while driving [1 of which was my fault: age 16], 2 where I was parked and someone hit me, and 1 where someone else was driving a car of mine.  So since age 17, I’ve had to deal with 6 accidents in 21 years. None my fault. One every 3.5 yrs on average.

Yea, I’m tired of it. In the mid-1990s, someone backed into my Pontiac 6000STE. I let them go without getting their information. Turned out I had internal damage. My horn stopped working. I failed inspection. I had to pay $100+ to get it repaired.  That was when I vowed that I would call the police for ANY accident, even one that seems to have 0 damage. But you know what? I wasn’t going to go through with my vow. It was such a small bump, that I decided I would just trade insurance information with them. I would then file a claim if something came up. These people would have nothing of it!

I wasn’t even in the car. I saw it move and looked over just in time to see their car kinda bouncing away from mine, and seeing both cars bounce in opposite directions (probably only a few inches). I also felt like I saw my front bumper bump back into proper shape, but it happened so quickly. . So I knocked on the window… and then the resistance began. Between then and me calling 911 was probably 3 minutes.

I said something along the lines of: “You just hit my car. I don’t think there’s any damage, but I’d like to get your information in case there turns out to be some damage.”  // “But there’s no damage! Look!” // “Yes, I know. I agree there’s probably no damage. But I’ve been in this exact situation before, and was screwed because I didn’t get the information. So I want the information. And the law is: You have to give it to me.”

They were well-dressed, in a nice car, newer than mine.

He told me he wasn’t going to give me his information because there was no damage. I told him that’s not how the law works. He refused again. He started to get into his car. I quickly ran in grabbed a pen (usually have one in my car, wtf!) and wrote his plate number on my hand, in case they dashed off.

I went back out and told him one more time: Give me your information, or I’ll call the police. If you leave, you will be guilty of hit and run. Still unfazedthe man refused once more to give me his information. I went into the gas station and called 911. The poor gas station had long lines and most definitely lost business due to us blocking 2 pumps for 40 minutes.

So stubborn.

At one point the guy tried to tell me that a car was coming toward him. So you’re saying you reversed into me on purpose in response to another car? Or are you just lying and making up an excuse? C’mon now. Don’t make yourself look stupider.

The cop came, was moderately easy to deal with, and dealt with me first (probably because I was waving my arms around signaling him), then them.

He made them give the information they were legally required to give. That is, after he found the driver. His wife was in the passenger seat, but the driver left. Maybe he just went to the bathroom, but I don’t know. The guy basically left his wife to deal with the cop. Not cool, dude. I heard the cop lecture him that you can’t leave the scene of a crime. Haha. He got lectured by the cop and I didn’t. Haha.

He also told me he was putting on the report that there was no visible damage. Fair enough! I agree with that! I mentioned the car-horn scenario and he made me check my car horn. It worked. Good for him for making me do that, erasing all doubt.

I almost couldn’t find my proof-of-insurance, and was going to be kicking myself if I got another ticket after my recent $150 and $500 redlight/parking tickets (parked where parking attendant told me to park: got $500 ticket: Baltimore court date forthcoming). Fortunately I found it. That would have sucked.

Watching him deal with the old people was funny. They resisted and resisted. He kept explaining and explaining. It’s not a ticket, it’s just an exchange of information. The elderly man — born in 1930, age 82 — wrote very, very poorly. He did not make an effort to write legibly. The cop made him (both of us actually) get out our ID/insurance to double-check that things were filled out properly.

[This is good. In the 1990s a tractor trailer hit me, gave false information to the police, and because they didn’t double-check it, the driver never had to pay for his infraction. I managed to get the real information after the cop left, and the state of Alabama wouldn’t release his identity to the state of Virginia. So why the fuck do we let Alabama still drive its trucks through our state? Republicans? We should demand a state comply with all information requests as a condition of allowing their commercial traffic through our state!]

Anyway, the guy wrote his license plate down so poorly that the cop had to over-write it, but he wrote it wrong, changing a 9 into a 0. GOOD THING I WROTE THE LICENSE PLATE NUMBER ON MY HAND EARLIER, or I’d have an inaccurate report. At least they double check now when they didn’t in the 90’s, but this doesn’t mean there’s any less burden to double-check the information yourself. Remember that.

Even then, they tried to leave fields blank! The officer had to tell them repeatedly that they had to put their phone number on it. They resisted, citing that I would start harassing them. Old people and their fucking fear of technology. My grandparents (RIP) would not get on the internet because they believed if you posted one thing one person didn’t like, they could make your life miserable. I’d be dead by now if there was any truth to that. (Indeed, the only death threats I received via persona phone call in response to my online activities were back in the BBS days before the internet.)

So now I have the guy’s full information (born in 1930!), insurance company, policy #, birthday, address. More info than I would have gotten if he’d just cooperated with my initial, civil request.

So you know what? I called his insurance company and reported it. If he had just given me his information, I wouldn’t have done this. But because he made us all wait there 30-40 minutes to deal with this, I am now driven by SPITE.

USAA too. So he’s probably a veteran who feels that because he served in the military, he somehow has greater rights than the rest of us. That might explain his entitled attitude. I’m admittedly prejudiced against ex-military due to multiple ex-military murderers fucking up my social life with their senseless violence, including murdering Dirk and attacking my friends.

So yeah, I called USAA and filed a claim. They have a process for my situation: I am now scheduled for a 15 minute inspection at a local body shop, to make sure there’s no “internal damage” (insurance term). I am going to pick up taco bell first, because car inspections while eating tacos are better than car inspections without tacos. Basically: (x + taco) > x.

I don’t think they’ll find anything. But now there’s a blip on his insurance record. I did mention that to them. “Now that you’ve made me call the police, there will be a report, your insurance company will know about it, and your insurance will go up.” I wanted to let Mr.Oldboy know that he was stabbing himself in the foot.

This all segues into a recent conversation I had with my dad about old drivers.  He had a misconception that old drivers were better drivers, but then I brought a bunch of government statistics in. Elderly drivers have less fatalities because they drive fewer miles. Per-mile, when you get up to the age of 80, you’re actually worse than a teenager.  The difference being that a lot of teenager accidents are when they are purposely driving shittily and taking risks, while with the old people, they should know better and have a lifetime of experience, are not risktaking, and STILL crash at the same rate. That’s far worse in my book.

If this guy’s handwriting is any indication, he should not be eligible to pass the vision test to get his license.

And yes, I’ve bumped people that hard, and had them not report me. And I was thankful. Some would say this makes me a hypocrite. But I disagree. I’m me. I have my own set of experiences and rules that are different from others. It has been demonstrated to me that it is a mistake not to exchange information. That is a lesson I took to heart. That is not everybody’s lesson. If someone wants to let me off in a situation that I wouldn’t — let them. They are free to not assert their rights as much as I do. We all live our lives different ways.

That one accident that was really my fault, at age 16? The guy was a reverend driving his purple limo. I was a 16 year old kid with ripped jeans driving my parents’ shitty station wagon. He didn’t report the damage. Does this mean I owe someone else an equal let-off? Not to me, it doesn’t. But I did give someone the let-off in the 1990s, and it came back to bite me. At this point, nobody’s ever getting let-off again. Ever. You ding my car, I get your information. I may not call, BUT I GET YOUR INFORMATION. And if you don’t like it, I’m calling the police. And it doesn’t matter if you are elderly, black, white, young, old, in a suit, in ripped jeans — you’re going to be treated equally by me. Information. Police. 100% of the time.


So yeah… My parents did a lot of fucked up things to me. Judging by how they react to the stories, they’ve done more fucked up things to me than they remember. (Accusing me of making it up? Really?!?)

Things like back when my Mom wanted to take a nap, she would tell me there was a man outside our house trying to get in and kill us. This happened the most in our 2nd house. She’d lay on the bed, tell me to be really quiet — that he’d hear us, and come in and kill us. I’d lay on the bed in abject fear. If I made any noise, it would be shusshed. “Shh! He’ll hear is!” Or “I heard him just now! Don’t move!”

Yeah, no wonder I still get adrenaline rushes when I hear outside noises, and sleep with music on to ensure that I DON’T ever hear such noises.

eye candy - rec room - while shaking camera (mostly on the edges)

...but on my forehead...

They also wrote 666 on my forehead when I was in the crib.

But, anyway, here was the one that actually brought me to tearful screams….

20090805 - Ripley's Believe It Or Not! museum - torture - Clint - sitting on the torture chair - (by Vicky) - 3806546444_9015cb57f3_o

Sitting in the torture chair... OF MY SOUL.

I’m about 13-18 years old, laying on the floor, watching TV in the TV room by the front door upstairs. On the other side of the front door is the kitchen.

I’m watching TV, not really paying attention.

I hear my Mom doing whatever in the kitchen. Making food? Cleaning? I dunno. I’m not paying attention.

I hear the garbage disposal run.

SUDDENLY, A LOUD SHRIEK!! My mom screaming bloody murder. Insane screams that you never want to hear.

She runs out of the kitchen, across the front door room, to where I’m laying, throwing her severed fingers all over my body.

Edvard Munch - Geschrei - The Scream - 1895 - color version

Mom... No.... Mom!!!!

I pretty much scream like a little girl, flailing about as if someone had thrown a handful of large spiders on me. (HATE spiders.) Get these, er, uh… THINGS… of of me!!

Postcard - Stanley Kubricks Clockwork Orange

oh god please make it stop no please stop no nooooo

Begin Mom laughing…

20031216 - Mom's highschool friends - Mom, Mary, Helen - (by Dad) - 2201357026_b9ce655767_o

...but who's laughing NOW? Oh wait, it's still you...

Turns out they were carrots she had chopped up into finger-sized pieces, with the intent of scarring me as such.

200703 - Clint's work - wall art - kitchen - Vegetables Marin - hottub - 112-1231 - 20070302

The carrots... they still haunt me... in my dreams...

Yea, pretty damn funny. A little less funny when you’re the recipient of it, but funny is as funny does.

And people wonder why I don’t want to have kids…

20100324 - Clint - 0 - The Xanatos Scream - by IMBJR from alt.slack [SubGenius]



JOURNAL: PARTY: Local Experts Can’t Agree On Whether Styx Sucks Worse Than Rush

John The Canadien’s blogpost about our Saturday hangout/partying experience.


TAGS: personal, journal, hangingout, parties, people, Clint, Carolyn, JohnTheCanadien, MarkI, AutumnS, ChablisO, SeanR, media, audio, music, bands, Rush, Styx, Voivod, songs, Mr.Roboto, Genesis, video, TV, shows, TheClevelandShow, FamilyGuy

I only really found out about all this when my father scanned his father’s pictures. Suffice to say… The odds for my existence seem like they might be lower than usual. I’m a lucky guy. Thanks to all those that helped.




A. Data on witness:

1. My name is MARIA CLARA (RECHEN) L[REDACTED], born October 25, 1918, in Lwow, Poland. My current address is [REDACTED STREET ADDRESS], Alexandria, Virginia, [REDACTED ZIP CODE], USA. I am a housewife.

2. Before and during WWII, I resided at Zimorowicza 16, Lwow, Poland, until October 1941. From October 1941 to August 1942, I lived on Marcina Street, which was that part of Lwow later known as the ghetto. From August 1942 until June 1943, I lived with my rescuers, the Polinski family, on Longina Street, Lwow. From June 1943until May 1945, I was in a Labor Camp in Erkersreuth/Selb, Bavaria, Germany.

3. I was single during the years of World War II and married in 1947.

B. Data On Rescuer

1. My rescuers were JOZEF POLINSKI and his wife JOZEFA POLINSKI, both approximately 42 years of age at that time, and their daughter, WLADYSLAWA, approximately 13 years of age, all of whom lived on Zamarstynowska Street, Lwow, Poland. The family owned and operated a small variety shop on that street and lived in an apartment above the store. In October 1942, the family moved to a villa on the outskirts of Lwow, on Longina Street.

I was in constant contact with the POLINSKI family until their death some years ago. They resided at 51/3 Monte Cassino St, 51-681 Wroclaw, Poland. Their daughter, WLADYSLANA (POLINSKI) KUZILEK, currently resides at that address.

2. JOZEF AND JOZEFA POLINSKI were husband and wife. They had two children, WLADYSLAWA, as indicated above,and LESZEK, 7 or 8 years of age. The family lived together, as indicated.

C. Data on rescue story:

1. I was born of JAKUB and JOZEFA RECHEN, an only child, while living at Zimorowicza 16, Lwow, Poland. When the war started in 1939, we continued living at that address, initially under Russian occupation, utnil the Nazis invaded our town in 1941. On October 1, 1941, my father was “arrested” by the Gestapo, and disappeared without a trace. Shortly thereafter, my mother and I were forced to vacate our home and were forced by the Nazis to move into the disgnated ghetto.

2. In January 1942, while I was trying to purchase some food in the street, I was told by another Jew that I might find food in the shop of Mr. POLINSKI. Although he was Catholic, he was described to me as the “Jewish King” because of his unselfish help to needy Jews. I was told that he had volunteered as Janitor at Nazi quarter so that he could and did steal food for the Jews. I went to him and asked his help in finding potatoes. He disappeared for a while and came back with a sack of potatoes on a sled. He asked my address and pulled the sled to my house and personally delivered it to my mother as the ghetto was still in an open state. He refused money for the potatoes.

The next day, he came with his wife JOZEFA. They brought more unobtainable food for us and adamantly refused payment. They offered further help to us.

A few days later, they brought their two children, WLADYSLAWA and LESZEK, to meet my mother and me.

3. The actual physical rescue performed by the POLINSKI family occurred on August 10, 1942, when I and 3,000 other Jews were taken during an “action” and moved to Janowska Camp in Lwow, where the train took daily groups to unknown destinations.

4. On the movement to Janowska Camp, I was fortunate to be able to pass a message to the POLINSKIS, through a by-stander. Mr. POLINSKI got in touch with a friend inthe “Jewish Militia” which was attached to our Jewish Council. In the very last moments, when our train was loading, my name was called and I was released. On that day, only I and a young mother with a little son were miraculously saved; the rest went to one of the death camps.

5. Upon my release at the train station, the “Jewis Militia” friend was waiting for me and advised me not to return home. He took me to the POLINSKI home, where they hid me. During the next few weeks, the POLINSKI family kept me in hiding. Some of these days, JOZEF POLINSKI had me moved to the home of JOZEFA’s brother, JANEK, and his wife, ANNA, in a different part of town, where I was kept during the days in a small chimney space. On at least one occasion, while i was in the chimney, the Gestapo looked down the chimney from the roof, but could not see, in the poor light, where I was hiding. During September 1941, JOZEF POLINSKI moved me to the home of distant relatives of his family, in a town called Brody, near Lwow, for two weeks. These relatives did not know I was Jewish, but were told that I was hiding for political reasons. I do not remember their names or addresses.

In October 1942 JOZEF POLINSKI bought a villa on the outskirts of Lwow, on Longina Street, and moved his family and me there. During this time, the POLINSKIS acquired “aryan” papers for me. I posed as “Maria Rak”, the daughter of a school janitor. The papers had belonged to the janitor’s decased daughter, who was a nun. I was never asked to pay for these papers. JOZEF POLINSKI was attempting to get papers for my mother, also, but could not get them before she died in the ghetto. In the spring of 1943, the Nazis confiscated POLINSKI’s villa on Longina Street, and we moved, as a family, to an apartment in the same area. I do not remember the street name.

I stayed hidden with the POLINSKI family unti June 1943, when I voluntarily moved, as indicated below, to a Labor Camp.

6. I was never asked to pay for food, lodging, or the false papers provided me. I had no money and could not have paid.

7. I bleieve that their motivation was simply one of desire to help those of us who were being eliminated on the basis of religion. At no time during or following our relationship, and to this day, have they ever exhibited any motivation other than cmopassion.

8. All of the above named and their associates unnamed were in peril of their lives for any one of their many, many acts in my behalf and on behalf of others. The result would have been certain death for all of them, should their actions have been discovered at that time.

9. JOZEFA POLINSKI told others that I was her distant cousin and that I needed to hide because I was married to a Polish officer who was wanted by the Gestapo.

10. My relationship with the family at that time was very warm and our mutual feelings could only be described as that between closest relatives. They were fully protective of me and made sure that I had all available basic requirements.

11. In addition to JOZEF and ZJOZEFA POLINSKI and their daughter, at that time WLADYSLAWA, their son, LESZEK, who was only 7 or 8, did contribute marginally to my maintenance. JOZEFA’S sister, LOLA, married to a Jew, whom she was hiding at the same time and saved, was involved to a degree, in the cover up story. JOZEFA’S brother, JANEK, and his wife, ANNA, were involved in sheltering me. There were others involved, in Lwow and in Brody, but I have forgotten their names now because of the elapsed time.

12. By June 1943, the situation becamse too dangerous because there were groups of Nazis going through apartments, one by one, close by, searching for innocents. Again, JOZEF POLINSKI was able to put my name on a list of “volunteers” for a labor in Germany, where I would pose as MARIA RAK, and would undoubtedly be more safe than in Lwow. On June 10, 1943, I arrived in Erkersreuth/Selb, Bavaria, and was assigned to a labor camp near the Rosenthal factory, where I was put to work. I survived in the labor camp until April, 1945. As the American armies approached, our “Lager fuhrerin” decided to send a few of us trouble-makers to Flossenburg, a death camp. When we arrived there, we found that the Nazi guards were running away and they paid little attentiont o us. They released us and we met the American Army on our return trip to Selb. Having some English, I was able to get a minor position in the Field Red Cross of the 16th Infantry Regiment, 1st Infantry Division, where I met the Assistant Ajutant, CWO James B. L[REDACTED], whom I married in 1947, in Austria. We returned to the USA in June 1947 and 3 years later I became an American citizen.

13. I witnessed the POLINSKIS delivering false papers to “ZOSIA” and her brother, “ADAM” (last names unknown). Both were from Krakow and they later departed for Warsaw, where, I understand, they both survived the war. There was no payment made to the POLINSKIS for these papers.

14. (See Paragraph 5, above.)

15. I wish to nominate the following to the “Righteous Among The Nations”:
They are all three most deserving of the award.

Dated Feb 8 1993
Maria Clara L[REDACTED]
[notorized by City Of Alexandria]

Ronnie L, born Maria Clara Rechen, is Clint’s grandmother (dad’s mom). Born 10/25/1918 in Lvov, Poland. Died 11/13/2003 in Alexandria, VA.
Daughter of Jozefa and Jacob, she was the only survivor of the holocaust in her family. She was liberated from a work camp by Clint’s grandfather (James Bernard L.), who stormed Normandy 20 minutes into the D-Day invasion.

Furthermore, here is what she wrote about her father:


“My father: Jacob Rechen.
Born 28 August 1880(circa) in Lwow,Poland and deported by Gestapo on 1 October 1942,died on or about that time in the prison, at the age of about 64 years.

He was born as a son of a well-to-do family, his father being chief cantor in the Temple and his mother being one of the best and most known at the time fashion designer and owner of a fashion house. My Father started his early career working with printing houses, later changed to advertisement field and through most of his working years kept this line, parallel to other enterprises.

He was director and representative of “Piast” Insurance Co. for the whole region of Southern Poland, he had exlucisve representation of French Movie Corp. “Goumont” for Poland, later was co-partner in “Fox” representation for this part of Poland. While having those positions, he edited and published several publishments in the theatrical, radio and movie fields and from those and advertisements had a very handsome side-profit.

In very early Thirties he was elected a representative and director of P.A.P. (Polish Publicisttic Agency) which had at that time the exclusive right to advertisement in radio, a novelty in those years. This position was very lucrative, with a high permanent pay plus percentage from advertisements from So. Poland’s regions.

His income in the last 15 years, before the war was very high, he owned, bought and resold serveral houses, with a good profit and at the beginning of war was an owner of a apartment and commercial building on Pl.Bernardynski and apartment house on Galaba Str., had several hundred of stick in mineral and petroleum fields around Drohobyez-Boryslaw, and two of his personal friends owed him at that time $10,000 and $7,000 repsectively–which never were returned to him or his family. Many of his profits were invested in jewelry for my Mother and myself, quite a few were also inherited from grandparents.

Both of my Parents traveled every summer to foreign health-resort while I traveled separately, also abroad. My Father never refused any of my requests and had our family in all available luxuries. (I had my 1st fur-coat at the age of 12 yrs.) We have led active social life, attending all possible concerts, theatre, movies, horse-races, having visitors from other cities, visiting them in return, etc., etc.”

And here is what Germany said back, 35 years later:

“Dear Mrs. L[REDACTED]: Today I received the following letter from BLEA in your matter of compensation:

‘In the application of compensation your client claims that she was forced to stay in Ghetto for the period 15 July 1941 till October 1942 for wearing the jewish star. From October 1942 until she was liberated in April 1945 she had to live under inhumanly circumstances – illegal – and with an assumed name.

The applicants time in arrest however has only been proved partly so that a full recognition of the claims can not be approved of. The office feels that a comparable agreement on the basis of anadjudgement of the claims of DM 4.500.–would be suitable to liquidate all compensation claims. Should you agree with this settlement you are kindly requested to sign the inclosed draft on the lower left hand corner and to send it to the office as soon as possible. This proposition, however, bears no obligation for either side, it is rather a possibility to come to an agreement.’

I kindly ask you now to inform me whether you would want me to sign this proposed settlement of DM 4.500.– for the liquidation of all your claims for compensation in accordance with the ‘Republic-Compensation-Law’ or if you wish to reject this proposal. I would strongly recommend that you accept this agreement.”

Fuck that.

Yea, when you hear about restitution for Palestinians who were kicked out of their family homes — or Japanese-Americans put in concentration camps in America during WW2 — this is what I tend to point to. Restitution is bullshit. It is a pittance given decades later. It is never what was taken. Too little, too late. It is just so that people can say, “Oh, they paid restitution, they’re absolved of all sin now, and everybody’s all better.” NO. This *doesn’t* make it fine.

Fuck the racists of the world. 

JOURNAL/REVIEWS: HANGING OUT: House of MagicMist Passes Referendum Banning Talk of Shia LaBeouf and DubStep

John The Canadien’s blogpost about hanging out with me & Carolyn & Mark I on Friday night, wherein we watched 2-3 hrs of TV (episodes reviewed within).


TAGS: personal, journal, hangingOut, JohnTheCanadien, blog, posts, MarkI, Carolyn, Clint, media, video, TV, shows, reviews, cartoons, music, audio, dubstep, ShiaLaBeouf, MarilynManson, NinjaGaiden, D.R.I., ChemLab, NickCave, TheBirthdayParty, Unsupervised, Frankenhole, CartoonNetwork, FX,

VIDEO: CARTOONS: REVIEW: Wrath von MagicMist Explains The Subtle Nuances Of Coroner’s “Masked Jackal”

A review of 7 shows we watched with John The Canadien last Friday… Plus talk on Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter and the song that got Clint into the band Coroner.


TAGS: personal, journal, hangingOut, Clint, Carolyn, JohnTheCanadien, media, video, TV, shows, cartoons, FOX, TheClevelandShow, TheSimpsons, Simpsons, FX, Archer, CartoonNetwork, AdventureTime, Delocated, NBC, TheOffice, reviews, Unsupervised, Coroner, AbrahamLincoln:VampireKiller

Today, 10 yrs ago, was an epic party at our house. Well, maybe not epic.. but more memorable than most! This was the party where John The Candien famously puked on our couch. He’s probably really tired of hearing about it, even 10 yrs later. But I wrote this post in 2009 so for me it’s only 7 yrs later. And he doesn’t do stuff like that these days. Anyway, here are some videos from the party 10 yrs ago today. They also show how our house looked before the addition; those rooms were small (not really; just small in comparison).

Here is a 10-minute montage of all our favorite slices of life from the party:

And here are the individual videos from the party:

#1: John’s first drink. Not much going on.

#2: John’s 4th drink.

#3: Various people talking about some fun New Orleans bar they couldn’t find their way back to. Listen for Dig-Dug in the background!

#4: People start noticing the camera. Wayne talks about a lost pack of cigarettes. The nature of the webcam is discussed (it’s record, not broadcasting). Becky suggests that we start playing Strip Poker soon:

#5: People play with our spinning-message-maker light/toy thingee:

#6-#7: Not much happens here, except for mingling. You can still hear Dig-Dug in the background:

#8-#10 are for friends only ;) Check my flickr if you’re a friend :)

#11: Various mingling. Clint explains to Britt that it’s recording, not broadcasting. Aaron starts playing with the camera around 2m50s. At 3m18s, you can see the software recording the party, and AE’s ex-girlfriend Tracy:

#12: At 2m10s, the camera gets shoved down somebody’s pants:

#13: John’s going dooowwwwn! Kipp, don’t encourage him! Things get interesting around 6m20s, when Jesse tells Carolyn, “John’s fucked up”, and Carolyn grabs his bottle, swigs it, then walks away with it. John The Candien looks disconcerted. “Noooo… Not the bottle!” Funny stuff :) But then look at 7m40s — Kipp picks John up and moves him to the couch that he later puked on. He got up, but for all I know he moved back to the couch at 11m30s because he didn’t want to be picked up again. And who picks somebody up anyway? Nice instincts (sarcasm) on everybody except Carolyn’s part:

#14: John is now out, and girls decide to put makeup on him:

#15: Finally, he pukes. But a cup was put in front of the camera, so you can really only see how people react to the whole thing:

#16: We all miss Samhain the cat, who made a brief 1-minute appearance before running away:

#17: Webcam voiceovers. Possibly the funniest on-camera moments:

#18: And then the webcam “optical illusion” of swallowing a huge cam (short):

#19: And another quick-but-funny voiceover:

And that’s how we rolled in 2002!

Stomp on ducks and win a free penis, you say? What does that mean?

20090630 - Britt's birthday dinner - Sampan restaurant - rice soup with duck blood - (by Dad) - 3699514037_0de28cf25f_o

Duck blood soup that I ate after the Cave Duck episode of Food Party. No stomping and no peni were involved.

Well, it started as a BBS thing in high school, but it really blossomed as a college thing for me. I have multiple friends to thank for this phrase being etched in my mind.

BBS ANSI art - Link The Triune - mute duck - 19920722

The first is Link The Triune (Jerry H), who ran the BBS named Where The Wild Things Are.

BBS ANSI art - Where The Wild Things Are - Max - with crown - 19910917

This was the most intense and fun message-based BBS I was ever on in my life — my own BBS On Earth As It Is In Hell (which ran after WTWTA went down) finishes in 2nd place for me. And seemed to be the refuge for ex-WTWTA’ers.

On Earth As It Is In Hell - logon ANSI

opening ANSI art to my BBS

I’m not going to go into the whole “not the internet … busy signals … one person at a time” spiel about BBSes, but anyway, there were lots of message boards (forums), and in one of them, the topic of duck penises came up.

1980s - 0268 ducks


Apparently, according to this conversation, male ducks’ penises are retracted inside of their body.

But of course, the conversation took a turn for the worse, and ultimately, we realized that if you stomped a duck to death, its penis would come out.

20070408 - dead bird - Misfit's handywork - inverted welcome mat means YOU'RE NOT WELCOME HERE, bird! - 118-1837

Where the FUCK is my free penis?!?! I'm writing my congressman!

Thus, the phrase “Stomp On Ducks And Win A Free Penis” was born.


The second person to help etch this into my mind was Arlo Guthrie, my dorm roommate for my 3rd semester in college.

Final Tour of Virginia Tech 199705 by Clint - 62 of 94

the door to our dorm room

Final Tour of Virginia Tech 199705 by Clint - 59 of 94

the interior of our dorm room

He had a performance of a piece he wrote, which was a collection of short stories.

He asked me for a title. I provided him with one. Of course I volunteered Stomp On Ducks And Win A Free Penis. It was too great a phrase to die; this meme had to reproduce.

Valerie instructs us on the proper way to stomp a duck penis.

I didn’t realize he was going to make me stand up and tell everyone its origin. I’m really bad a public speaking. I think I was full of adrenaline, and then pretty much shaking as I had to address everyone.

20100221 - Dirk's wake - GEDC1568 - Clint


And thus, another 50 people had that phrase stuck in their head for awhile.

Ultimately, I found it on my harddrive and emailed it to him. He had lost his files, and I had found mine. ARLO.DOC or somesuch thing. Opened it up, nice to see what it was.

When talking about it in email, he said: “I mentioned this to my wife recently. Her response was something to the effect of, “I wouldn’t have dated you in college.” She’s right.”

Postcard - Post Modern Parents - talking about all the drugs and sex their child is about to do


Anyway, I recently realized that if you Googled the phrase, Google came up with nothing. I immediately tweeted it so that google would have it. And now I’m writing up the long explanation, for posterity. The End. (more…)

Another old computer story. During the 2 Virginia Tech years that I lived in Pritchard Hall, I ran a BBS on the data lines they provided to the dorm. (If you don’t know what a BBS is, click the word BBS for an explanation. This was how people socialized online before the internet came about.)

B&B - SubGeniuses - Bob Bob Bob

Sample BBS advertisement for a SubGenius BBS. Good luck finding a Flying Spaghetti Monster BBS ad. Haha.

My BBS‘s name was On Earth As It Is In Hell, named after a live Samhain bootleg 7-inch vinyl I bought at Smash Records, itself named after lyrics from The Misfits song Earth A.D.

On Earth As It Is In Hell - logon ANSI

On Earth As It Is In Hell login screen. No graphics here, this is all text with ANSI color codes.

It was the most popular message board in Virginia Tech during the 1st of the 2 years I ran it, though during the 2nd year, the internet began to really take off, and lowered my usage. I can’t imagine what the World Wide Web would have done to my BBS; that didn’t come about until I stopped running it.

On Earth As It Is In Hell - ASCII zip comment made from ANSI login screen

On Earth As It Is In Hell login screen, ZIP-file comment version

ANYWAY, the software was WWIV, which I had paid $50 to license and modify the C source code to. I’d spent my whole summer after graduationg high school modifying the BBS code, so that it would be ready for deployment when I got to college.

19930805 - Fish Tank BBS - Dave Nelson was the sysop

My friend Dave N's BBS's ad. He ran WWIV, and together we used obscure modem protocols that nobody else used to become the first gateway for outside messages to reach the Virginia Tech BBS scene. We had nationally syndicated message boards, with his BBS being my BBS's contact point. I was the only BBS in Virginia Tech to achieve this. We had WWIV "email addresses", where we could be contacted internationally -- long before we had real email addresses (which was 1992).

(side-note: It really didn’t help that my parents pulled the pointless bullshit of disallowing me from taking my own computer to college, citing that I “wouldn’t have enough time” to use it, which was very typical bullshit, and completely false. Of course they insisted on buying the $3,000 DEC Alpha station that I said was unnecessary…and that computer was more of a timewaster than anything. Four hours to figure out how to compile Nethack, when you could download it and run it on a PC without compilation? Funk dat!)

blacklights are cool .. so is nethack .. 106-0630_IMG

Nethack being properly played on Carolyn's PC -- no compiler-fu knowledge necessary! Unix is great, but I've got other things to do, like USING my computer instead of tinkering with it.

I was always a mischief maker online — and still am to this day.

I got my first death threats within a year of getting online, in 1988. I got assaulted several times, including while sleeping at my best friend’s house, and while waiting in line for a Testament concert in 1990. At least once, I couldn’t return to my own dorm room. But as the saying goes — “Though they paint the wall to stop my pen, the shithouse strikes again!”

20050723 - Clint cut himself shaving - 100-0005 - Clint bleeding, funny face

Fortunately, I was never assaulted THIS badly. But I do suck at shaving...

I had certainly pulled my share other mean tricks before, as depicted in this ANSI art about me, created by Where The Wild Things Are sysop Jerry Hinn:

This guy named Batman was so lame. My handle was Satan. I used my high access to change his colors to black on black, then created a message board he didn't have access to, and posted the logfiles of him flailing around the BBS, unable to access anything, typing in the darkness of black-on-black text. lulz!


I’d pulled my share of mean tricks, and this was another. It was a code modification called DELAYED USER DELETION.

Rather than deleting a user, you simply set his access level to -1, or some other technical fudge. The modified code then checked the user’s access level when they logged on. If it was -1, it would display a message to them, and then delete their account. In this way, I had the technical assurance of getting THE LAST LAUGH.

20091231 - New Year's Eve Chili Cook-Off - Clint - lurking - (by Parthena) - 4236959431_56ce3968f6_b - 2 - original version

Beware--I always get the last laugh.

But that’s not enough. I had to add insult to injury. I used an ANSI art of a big middle finger as my closing message.

Mark + Mask + middle fingers 104-0456_IMG

...and the horse you rode in on!

I also tacked on 4,096 Control-G’s to the end.

Remember Control-G? It’s the beep character.

Back in the DOS days, beeps were loaded into some sort of buffer, and could not be stopped. You had to wait it out. And you could barely type or use your computer or get any responsiveness whatsoever when this happened.

1998ish - Clint's room - screens & clutter - 1

My equipment shall defeat yours!

By flooding their computer with literally thousands of beeps, I wasn’t just deleting them. I was filling their room with loud noises that would bother whoever else was around, AND I was forcing them to have to physically reach for their power switch and turn their computer off. It was my final FUCK YOU to anyone I deleted. Hopefully I woke up their roommates, and they had to get up out of their chair to turn their computer off. HA HA.

best...reboot...ever - A-Bit modified BIOS replaces EPA logo with pot leaf - 112-1288_IMG

Have fun rebooting, assholes!....... I bet you guys don't even know how to modify a BIOS logo...... pfft......

Years later, I ran into people at a party who had been deleted from my BBS. But they refused to tell me who they were. Hahaha.

I wonder if they got hit by the Control-G-bomb??

20070113 - Clint's 33rd Birthday party - 109-0974_Ben - after being forceably subdued

Most assholes I run into at parties do not come from my BBS past.


Yup. I got kicked off a multi-line paid chat BBS around 1990. I was the first in the county, as this BBS was the first in the county. YAY NEW HORIZONS!

B&B - SubGeniuses - Bob Bob Bob

It's a rare thing to find a random picture containing 3 loves of my life: J.R. "Bob" Dobbs & The Church Of The SubGenius, BBSes, and Beavis & Butt-head.

Two things you need to know about for this story: 1) BBSes, 2)

1) Back in the pre-internet days, there were these things called BBSes. I’m not going to explain it every time I post about it, but it was way more rewarding than the internet.

On Earth As It Is In Hell - logon ANSI

the opening ANSI to my BBS

It was, however, very sparse. There’s only so many people online in your calling area, and when you can only use a BBS one person at a time, it takes awhile for things to happen.

Imagine having to read a forum on a webpage where, 99% of the time, you would get a 404 NOT FOUND error — because someone else was reading it at the same time.

Imagine having to reload that webpage throughout the day, hoping to get a chance when the page will actually load, and give you a chance to read and write on it. That’s what BBSing was like, metaphorically.

Also, imagine the page loaded slower than how fast you could read. Furthermore, everyone you met was guaranteed to be local, so this made it “creepy” in ways the internet isn’t. I got to be assaulted multiple times in real life, at the mall, while sleeping at my best friends’ house, at a concert… I got death threats phoned in. I’ve called police both in Prince William County and at Virginia Tech. BBSes are nice and cozy — everyone is within a few miles of you.

Check out this scare piece on BBSes, probably written around 1990.

19930805 - Fish Tank BBS - Dave Nelson was the sysop

Dave N's old BBS add, GIF format - very advanced for the time :)

So anyway, the year was around 1989. The county was Prince William County, VA. The first multi-phoneline BBS, Info*Share (703-803-8000), emerged. It was a chat board. That’s all it was. Call, and go into channels in chat (there was usually only 1), like in IRC.

2001 - computer - Fire - in it's heyday doing IRC

IRC was around, but I never did it at home until over 10 years later

You paid per the minute, too. But I believe I got a 1 year, or maybe lifetime membership for $30. That’s how much I wanted to use the computer to talk to interesting people. The people I met in meatspace weren’t nearly as interesting as the people I met in cyberspace. And the best part is, I got all that money refunded to me in the end!

1993 - Jeremy's Party - 02

BBS gathering in 1993

2) JIVE.COM. The other component to this story is JIVE.COM. (No, is not a website. In 1988, .COM was an executable extension, like .EXE. JIVE.COM and JIVE.EXE would mean the same thing).

So anyway, there was this program called JIVE.COM. It was, basically, a racist comedy program to convert text to “jive”, like the “jive” language featured in the movie Airplane.

If you want to try it out, download it here. The file’s date is 10/25/1986. My computer won’t run it anymore, unless I use DosBox, which doesn’t support copy and paste, so I can’t provide a sample of the output. The closest thing I could find on the web is the Dialectizer, but you need to change the dropdown from “Redneck” to “Jive”. It’s NOT the same conversion algorithm, though. would chainge every exclaimation mark to “Slap mah fro!”. It was ridiculous.
20100807 1404 - Cape Cod - on plane - cockpit - IMG_2206

Airplane is a hilarious, 5-star comedy. AND DON'T CALL ME SHIRLEY.

So anyway, I happened to have a good understanding (for a kid my age) of input/output redirection, and I knew my modem was on the COM2: port. So I had the brilliant idea of piping the entire chat room through, by using the command:

JIVE <com2: >com2:

Of course, I had to drop to DOS from my BBS program, because you could only run one program at a time back then. So I didn’t get the luxury of seeing what happened during those 5 minutes that Jive redirected all of Info*Share’s output back into Info*Share, converted into Jive.

20090118 - cleaning house - 174-7497 - computer cards

these huge outdated cards I threw away in 2009 were obsolete by the late 1990s, and probably not even manufactured yet at the time of this story

I didn’t get to see the flooding of the channel I caused. One of Prince William County‘s first denial of service attacks. Nobody could chat for those 5 minutes, because anything typed would cycle through my computer, come out as jive, go to the channel, come back to me, get converted to jive again, creating an infinite loop.

I stopped after 5 minutes. Some people thought it was funny. A few people were pissed. I got kicked off, and refunded my money, which meant that I spent a whole summer having more fun than I otherwise would have had for free.

And became the first user in Prince William County to be kicked off a pay BBS. This was before the internet or AOL was available to people. This was back in the CompuServe days… I like to think I’m a pioneer in techno-anarchy :)

20070909 - just got Beavis - IMG_3554 - Clint, Beavis, computing

NO MICE BACK THEN. So much easier nowadays.


This anecdote has to be one of the most socially embarrassing things I’ve ever seen happen to someone else.

So there we were, at the very last night Bound would ever be held at Bar Nun in D.C….

2001ish - Bound - flyer - b54c1 - standing brunette (b&w)

Typical flyer back then

It was a fun night. Bar Nun was one of the better venues Bound was ever held at, so a lot of people showed up for the final night at Bar Nun. I specifically remember [hopefully correctly] seeing our college friend Molly for the first time 4 years or so.

We were dressed up and everything… [Everybody was]…

Us at The Last Bound -- 20010727

Sleazy enough? Nice gut hangin' out there. This was before Carolyn became a redhead and then a blonde.

But then, the night ended, and the last song played.

You know how when you’re yelling loudly in a noisy bar, and the music suddenly cuts out, how it’s really embarrassing when everyone hears you yelling in an otherwise-quiet room?

Well this is what happened.

She was really screaming…

B&B - Frog Baseball!!!

Yeah.. Kinda like that...

She was obviously an angry girl…

20070615 - Nate's going away party - (by Erin) - Nate (sitting, reading book), Erin (looking mad) - 559154575_f6ff2e766b_b

This has nothing to do with it, but is a good "angry girl" picture from my flickr.

And what was she screaming about? I don’t know. I think her relationship with this dude. She kept saying, “You’re so STAGNANT. STAGNANT. STAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAG NANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNT.”

I mean, there was a point when she realized the entire club was basically listening to her because the music stopped… And she just kept on going.

Her very last “STAGNANNNNT” in particular was like 5 seconds long, at least. The longest STAGNANT I’ve ever head. She was fucking insane.

After being emasculated like that, dudeface probably felt like this afterward:

20070928 - Beavis - 137-3791 - barstool - I can has bawls bak?

This guy was probably more embarassed than our cat Beavis (RIP) was.

At it turns out, Carolyn & I, Brent, Chris Hann3rs, Samantha & Sasha, some others, and the guy who got yelled at all walked to some afterhours party once the bar closed at 3AM.

The guy told me more about his relationship, or lack thereof, with the “Stagnant Yeller Girl”.

I forget the details, but I felt bad for him. Bad enough to remember it 10 years later.

It’s still a joke to this day. If a TV show isn’t quite living up to the luster of previous seasons, we might say, “This show is getting STAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAG NANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNT.” I have a feeling this memory will never fade.

Postcard - Virginia Tech - The Duck Pond



So, back in college, I lived in 1044 Pritchard Hall, with Brent I (Mark’s brother), from 1992-1993… And with Arlo G and Patrick I from 1993-1994.

Final Tour of Virginia Tech 199705 by Clint - 62 of 94

Yes, those are Grateful Dead "Dead Bears" around my door.

Final Tour of Virginia Tech 199705 by Clint - 56 of 94

Close-up of Dead Bears.

Now Pritchard Hall is a big dorm. At the time, it was the biggest non-military all-male dorm on the east coast, though it has since had to allow women in. It was big enough that there was actually a courtyard, so that people who lived in the inner loop could get a window. It was called The Pit, and various mischief commenced with it.

20040417 - Blacksburg reunion tour - 100-0078 - dorm - Pritchard

Pretty, pretty big... This is probably 10% of it.

For instance, there was Horn Boy. He would let off his horn…. brooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooowp. Never long enough to get caught. I remember the last day of year one, and someone saying into The Pit, “I’m gonna miss you, horn boy.”

20080329 - Oranjello, the new kitten - 152-5290 - invisible trumpet!

Horn Boy, like the trumpet in this picture, was invisible to onlookers.

Another thing we did was attach my pitch-shifter guitar pedal to Dan C’s P.A., and yell into the pit with pitch-shifted voices. I even heard them telling us once, “Yeah, there’s somebody with a P.A. out there.” Haha.

20070323 - Hanging out at Clint & Carolyn's - 115-1584 - Clint covered in guitars

Guitar equipment for entertainment purposes? We did it way before Guitar Queero...

So, my second year at 1044 Pritchard (1993-1994), we had a new R.A. The R.A. from the first year was pretty cool. But this guy was a total pussy. I mean total. Like, he had trouble talking loud enough that you could even hear him. And he was a Christian. And he was small. And he did not have the personality of someone who would boss people around.

So at some point, we took my speakers, which were pretty large:

20071019 - moving TV across the room with speakers - 140-4051 - speakers lined up lengthwise

The speaker with the stickers on it was probably the one that was used.

And Mohamad O and I blasted the Scooby Doo theme song into the pit. With our lights off.

Final Tour of Virginia Tech 199705 by Clint - 61 of 94

Actual window this happened from

We did this by each holding one of these huge speakers up to the window. BAM. A knock on our door.

Final Tour of Virginia Tech 199705 by Clint - 59 of 94

Another pic of 1044 Pritchard, with its 1996-1997 occupants (strangers)

We freak out, since we were the guilty party, and it was also kind of weird that we had our light off, as if we were hiding.

Pussy R.A. (I don’t even remember his name) came to our door. “Now guys. We heard something like the Scooby Doo theme blasting into the pit here. We just wanted to make sure it wasn’t you.” I mean, VERY non-confrontational, non-committal, and still not quite loud enough to really HEAR him. He was laughably wussy, and just the kind of R.A. you want around if you want to do stupid shit.

Final Tour of Virginia Tech 199705 by Clint - 15 of 94

Scooby Doo from the Cartoon Hall mural -- one of the few characters in the hall without a hit of acid drawn onto his tongue -- because he didn't have a visible tongue (click through to see all the acid-tongued cartoons)

We laughed our asses off, knowing that he didn’t have the balls to do anything about it. I mean, they couldn’t prove anything at that point anyway. But a real douche of an R.A. could still make things annoying.

Like the one we just called “Prick”. I believe he was a blonde douchebag of an R.A. on the second floor. I still remember Diane and I accidentally setting off the local fire alarm right outside his door, and her dropping her ID at the scene. And still, somehow, we were immune to any punishment.

I got away with a LOT in that dorm room. I also pretended to be an R.A. and pretended to bust other people in another dorm room.

20070319 - Clint's work - 115-1559 - Clint at work - as a cap - I'm not really one, I just put this on in the supply closet

Shakedown. Breakdown. You're busted.

Good times, good times.

Final Tour of Virginia Tech 199705 by Clint - 50 of 94

obligatory "OH!"


Here’s another confession of a mean thing I did as a kid — though I should add the meanness directed at me over my childhood was easily 1,000 x more than how much meanness I gave back to the world. Readers may remember when I found that guy’s day planner and called him up using my pitch-shifter guitar pedal, to mock him on his answering machine.

This was probably a bit worse than that…

My parents owned 3 houses when I grew up… (Never content with the house they were in, they kept buying a new one, then deciding it wasn’t big enough, then buying another. They did it again after I moved out.) The 2nd of those was in a neighborhood called The Heights, in Lake Ridge, Woodbridge, VA. I lived there from age 4 til age 8.5, right at the start of 4th grade.

FOR BLOG - parents' 2nd-to-last house

The old house. Of course I have zero pictures of it.

I had a few neighborhood friends, like my next-door-neighbor Erica [who ultimately got pregnant really early], Robert “Obert” Beck, Chris Navarro (no relation to Dave Navarro), and Mike Enis. Eventually we moved away, to the The Knolls neighborhood in Lake Ridge.

2003 - Woodbridge - my childhood home - 173539637_e67979c3f8_o (by Britt)

The new house, spruced up after I moved into my own house.

I saw my friend Mike Enis one last time after moving from The Heights to The Knolls. I guess we had a “play date” or something, as his mom brought him over and dropped him off for a few hours. I suppose we were around 10 years old or so.

We hung out in the woods for awhile…

20060610 - camping - Mark + Clint = jousting - action shot - 165854458_34c5ea5e9c_o

Woods. Always fun. Especially if you're immune to pollen and mosquitoes.

As we came back inside, I stopped to take a leaf off the mint bushes by the rear sliding glass door to our house. I loved getting mint straight from a real bush, and ate leaves off the plant pretty frequently. I wish we had one at our own house.

FOR BLOG - mint-by-art_es_anna@flickr-481879487_a6594d8f93

Mint Leaves, by Art_Es_Anna@flickr

Here’s where the evil began…

FOR BLOG - evil inside

“What? You actually ate the mint leaf? I was JOKING, you know!”

“What? You DIDN’T eat them?”

“No! Those things are poisonous! You’re gonna die!”

That was the gist of things. I told him it was time to meet his sweet death.

20091226 - Christmas presents - figure - pewter Grim Reaper - GEDC1277

Nice to meet 'ya.

He didn’t believe me at first, but I kept at it. Kept telling him that he was going to drop dead in about 10 minutes. I eventually picked up a random thick book off the bookshelf — something that looked scientific.

20091224 - GEDC1236 - Beth + joke present

Because if it's from a book, it must be true, right Mr. Quayle?

I went on and described the effects: Within 10 minutes you would start to get dizzy, go into convusions, and die of painful seizures. Of course at this point he was completely believing me.

19880228-19880307 - Science Fair Project - The Effects Of Microwaves On Plant Growth - 0421

I am, after all, an expert on science! Look at my brilliant science fair project!

Needless to say… I let the 10 minutes pass, and he may have cried or shaken or something. I don’t remember. I actually figured that since he wasn’t able to come over [I hadn’t seen him in 2 years] due to the distance [1.4 miles] between our houses, that it made him a good mark for a prank like this. After all, I wouldn’t want to freak out one of my CURRENT friends.

Yeah… I don’t think I ever saw him again after that.

Sorry, Mike! I don’t know what came over me, but at this point, this story does more to entertain my life than you do, because I don’t know you anymore! So I guess it was the right thing to do in the long run, in a very calculating way. But in an empathetic way, I do feel kinda bad about convincing you that you were going to die. And thus, this confessional. Which is also kind of a “look how fucked up I am” brag, in a way. I am both ashamed of and thankful for this story.

I guess I was a bit of a troubled kid…

1989ish - Spanish class - mi abuelo

Drawn about 4 years after this story.

The end.

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