It saddens me and disheartens me, but I, Ander V. Polito, hereby resign from Star Fleet.

I do so without trepidation, without reservation, and without doubt.

It's that after all this killing, I cannot help but know, in my heart of hearts, exploring the deepest reaches of the unknown, the relentless pursuit of knowledge, the ceaseless scanning, and tireless sojourning, that we just aren't killing enough fucking Klingons.

Star Fleet chooses to waste its time and resources delving into the darkest corners of space, when like, six inches past the Kassae sector is about a billion stupid Klingons, and we're just sitting on our hands, scanning anomalies and checking out the graveyards of long-dead civilizations. Like that bullshit's why I get into Star Fleet.

Well guess what, gents, you know who is killing Klingons by the tonnage? The Klingons, that's who. It's all they want to do; it's all they care about. Well, that and pwning Star Fleet pussies.

It is for these reasons that I have chosen to defect, and now pledge my undying, respawning services to the Empire.

And good luck getting the U.S.S. Padamame back, jerks, I traded it in for this cherry Klingon raptor, with disruptors and a spoiler. The next time you see your ship you'll be able to buy tacos from it through a porthole cut into the nacelle. I cannot wait to hose the blood off the grill of the I.K.S. G'nus.

Captain Andar "Vapor Trail" Pol'ito out.

It's been a long time since I have seen peace in this galaxy.

As we were charting the asteroid field around some forgotten, well yeah, uncharted planet in the Donia system in the Risa sector of the Sirius sector block, which in fact takes longer to get to than writing that out, we encountered hostile forces all pew-pew in high orbit, using the asteroid belt to shield them from our long-range sensors.

As we approached, we isolated their energy signatures and identified them as Nausicaans--the weirdo three-jawed race responsible for giving Picard a metal heart, which is pretty bad-ass but makes him warm only in the dirtiest fan-fiction you know people actually fucking write--so we altered our course to blow the shit out of them.

Afterwords, playing "follow the anomaly" led me and my away party to the surface, where it's sunsets and pretty marshes and OH FUCK GORN THEY'RE EVERYWHERE. Methodically, we took down the Gorn, their shield network, and their leader, a priest.

Because it was an archeological dig of their destroyed temple on the original Gorn home world. Which they were forced off of in the first place.

We really stuck it to those scientists and holy men.

At least they go down easy...

To add deserved insult to their injury, Star Fleet sent its researchers after we left, presumably, to publish first and put the stuff in a pretty wicked Federation museum.

Acting Captain Ander "Vesuvian" Polito out.

Today marks a black day in the history of the Federation.

En route to the Regulus sector my ship was flagged down by a diplomatic envoy heading to Diplomatic Envoy System Prime under siege. After beaming the survivors aboard, further investigation revealed that the attackers were in fact Klingon warships infringing on Federation space. These Klingon rebels were establishing a base inside the Sirrus sector block, and we were forced to destroy them. It is a dark way to progress in my career, and I will always regret the means by which I achieved the rank of Lieutenant.

They were scientists, engineers, and civilians. We are not at war with their Empire, and yet these dissidents--

Wait, we're at war with the Klingons? What about the Khitomer Accords?

You're shitting me. You're saying these guys aren't part of the Jem'Hadar alliance, unwittingly? Dominion? Borg thralls? But we're allies!

En route to Regulus my ship was ASSAULTED by Klingon ASSHOLES and we fucked them up proper. Drinks all around, on the Captain! And none of this worthless synthahol garbage that is mysteriously worth energy credits, although I shouldn't be too surprised as Ferengi snail juice gets you ten bucks a bottle on the open market...

What do you mean, you'll need a credit card? I'm the freaking Captain!

Buy yourselves a damn drink, then, crew. The Federation says this ship is dry.

Acting Captain Anders "Vitae, Aqua" Polito out.

I sat down with Martin Scorsese to talk about his most recent film.

Shutter Island didn't start out as a film, is that right Mr. Scorsese?
Yeah, yeah, it didn't. Nah, I was watchin' TV, on like, a Saturday night, Sunday morning-type deal. And then the fuckin' TV goes blank. Shi--shoot, I think--no wait, I said it on the couch, you know, 'cept I didn't say 'shoot', right? But then I realize: this isn't my TV, you know? It's like, this old TV show.

The Outer Limits.
Yeah, The Outer Limits. The old one, not the new shi--crappy version. At first I thought it was the Twilight Zone, which I never liked, but then it hits me: this is The Outer Limits, so I watched it for a while. And then, bang! I think, Marty, you could do it better.

So you decided to get involved with The Outer Limits.
You could say that.

OK.
Well, I got all the producers of The Outer Limits together, and I say, I wanna make another show. And they give me this fucking line of bullsh--plop so fucking fresh about it bein' off the air, which, clearly, it ain't, so I decided, fuck you guys, I'm gonna make it anyway. And I got a couple onboard, some of their writers.

But you eventually ran into some 'creative differences', is that right?
Yeah, well, a lot of the guys didn't want to do the rat thing, on account of them bein' homos. Nah, we get to the rock wall, and I have the rat barge trawl over, and these little girls throw their up mittens and walk off the set in their booties.

How did you deal with that?
We just dropped the title. How fuckin' stupid is 'The Outer Limits', anyway? It should be the inner limits, 'cause that's what we're dealin' with. Like, if you're afraid of rats, that's 'cause you're a dress-wearin' sissy. On the inside. Maybe on the outside, too. Whatever you do in the privacy of your own home is your fuckin' business.

...All because of the rats.
Well, you see, a rat is a symbol. Like when you see a rat, you know somethin's goin' wrong here, am I right? You see a rat, you know somethin' isn't what you think it is, and you smell a rat.

Thank you, Mr. Scorsese.
Call me Marty!

Shutter Island is still showing in theaters nation-wide.

During our ongoing mission to patrol the Orion sector, we were attacked by a fleet of Klingons waylaying Starbase 24. Under Admiral... Sulu? Sulu? That doesn't sound right... Under the Admiral's orders, we--wait, you can't ambush a Starbase.

waylay, English, v.

Pronunciation: IPA: /ˌweɪˈleɪ/

Infinitive: to waylay
Third person singular: waylays
Simple past: waylaid or (nonstandard) waylayed
Past participle: waylaid or (nonstandard) waylayed
Present participle: waylaying

1. (transitive) To lie in wait for and attack from ambush.
2. (transitive) To accost or intercept unexpectedly.

Starfleet, listen. It's not possible to waylay a fixed object. That's like getting the jump on a paraplegic; it's fun but we should have a cure for it by now.

So, to writ, while on route to the Orion sector, we were waylaid by Klingons attacking nearby Starbase 24. Our fleet defeated their waves arriving with conspicuously predictable frequency, but, try as we might to beam aboard to rescue the survivors, the universe vanished and all we could see was, oddly enough, a photograph of 21st-century Amsterdam. Perhaps the long-lost memento of sojourns past.

Conjecture aside, again and again, my away team and I beamed aboard Starbase 24, killing the same three groups of Klingons, but every time we attempted to contact and beam away a survivor, the universe disappeared we were haunted by the same image.

I can only surmise one thing: this is the doing of the Q. As I am not yet Lieutenant, I must assume that the same powers that be which allow me to captain my own vessel are channeling my fate, and very well, the fate of all existence.

May I lead an interesting life, just maybe. Still, I wish I could beam the patzers out of that crapshack without having to set foot on the edge of reality. Why do we have to go and talk to them in the first place? Teleporters only work one way now? What's up with that shit?

Ensign or Captain Ander "Vacation_NL_05-09-626.jpg" Polito out.

I had a chance to look up my Star Fleet record after returning from the surface of Hostile Borg-infested Planet One, and my given name is Ander. Ander V Polito; I can only assume the V is short for Very Handsome.

We dispatched several waves of Borg drones, and they were all ZZZZT, but my colleague and I were all PEW PEW, so they were uncharacteristically URGLE SIZZLE. We managed to destroy their Devices and return to the ship in low orbit over HBP-1 and continue our work on improving our key bindings.

Interestingly enough, as a by-product of our blasting the shit out of surreptitiously deceptively-helpless adversaries, I have gained the uncanny ability to increase the output of my ship's science officers as well as my warp core.

All this may be moot, however, as I have no idea what the fuck I'm supposed to do with my warp core as well as how to issue the most basic of commands to my subordinates. Not all is lost, as we are promised some free respecs should we complete our mission. Once we've cracked the enigma of how to engage warp drive, they may not even be necessary.

Acting Captain Ander "Vivacious" Polito out.

Acting Captain of the USS Padamame, Ensign--I forgot my first name--Polito:

After learning how to jump over crates, I have beamed aboard the Padamame and taken the bridge. My First Mate is African-Vulcan, and is very, very fast. Together we've overcome multiple Borg scout craft, although we've lost three Federation frigates in the process.

Our goal is to retake compromised sectors of the Alpha quadrant, which is funny because we keep coming across doods from Delta, or Gamma, or wherever the Borg and the Dominion hail from.

According to the computer, my home world of Betazed has been destroyed, so I am deeply troubled and will make commensurate faces as I kill lots of the guys who did this.

But first, we must deal with the issues at hand. The interface of my ship looks nothing like what I'm familiar with, and has an inverted Y axis. We've dispatched engineers to the control consoles to little avail; constant requests for "teaming" have proven cunning distractions, and to-date, we do not understand how to rotate shields, and for that matter, had no idea that shields could be rotated. This will prove invaluable should we lose our ability to re-spawn.

Until that point arises, we shall persevere, although the answer to the question constantly eludes us: who would seriously put us in charge of anything?

Polito out.

Step 1: clean off desk
Step 2: find discarded processor
Step 3: upgrade HTPC with discarded processor
Step 4: South Park
Step 5: Error: Digital Cable device registration application has stopped working...
Step 6: Windows Security Component Upgrade fails
Step 7: find C:/ProgramData/Microsoft/DRM/, delete
Step 8: Error: Digital Cable device registration application has stopped working...
Step 9: navigate to C:/ProgramData/Microsoft/Windows/DRM/, folder nonexistent
Step 10: type in C:/ProgramData/Microsoft/Windows/DRM/
Step 11: Folder is empty.
Step 12: no, it isn't, you fucks

Step 13, and this is the important part when you're deleting double-secret, yes, I already set Explorer to show hidden files and folders, folders: run as Administrator

Step 13: cmd, rmdir /s C:/ProgramData/Microsoft/Windows/DRM/

man, i've seen this episode already

So, like, not cool, Microsoft. Not cool.

I do a lot of searches and keywords make all this a matter of muscle memory. Ctrl-L + g, Google. Ctrl-L + w, Wikipedia, + m, Google images, + a, Amazon, + n, Newegg... So removing my keyword searches and replacing them with Bing is about the smartest and most efficient way for me to never ever use it. Like a newb I'm binging for ways to restore Google as my location bar's default search engine. Why? Because it's about the only way I can think to tell Microsoft not to dick with my settings.

Oh yeah, and I did this whole messagy-bit.

Not only did it set me up to use Bing, it got rid of all but the first three keyword searches I'd set up. It may be an easy fix, if it worked but nope, it doesn't. Once again, I ask myself the question: what's more profitable, a search engine and a massive browser, or just neither.

There are enough crappy Chinese MP3 players to fill a toxic Shenzhen waste dump many times over, but the Oppo Muse G11, with its traditional d-pad and promise of 8-bit glories emulated: I want.

While some of the photos here clearly show a real device, you can see that modesty has inclined lil' Oppo to only be shown from the rear, save for in chaste rendering form. So hopefully the d-pad and traditional SNES/PlayStation four-button config makes it to the final stages of production. News today is pricing: 1099 yuan, or $160. That only appears to buy you a paltry 4GB, but throwing together a true emulation platform along with some pedestrian MP3 playing capabilities into decent-looking swivel-screen hardware doesn't sound like a bad idea to me.

I want my devices to multitask. Everyone does. When I travel, I bring my DSLR, my notebook, my DS, my PSP, my cell phone, and chargers for all devices. I don't shave, that's just one gadget too many. At press events, you'll see all the journos and sponsors looking shaggier and increasingly coffee-stained over the days, because clothes take a back seat to hardware.

I have chargers for all this crap and I resent them for it. Not because they consume power and have different power sources each, I'm fine with that and they all switch 110-240V, so I can (and have) MacGuyvered power to them all no matter what bizarre outlet I've faced. I resent them because they all only do one thing well. I can't (legitimately) play all my games without also dragging around their bulky media, and because of that, I find myself not gaming. If I feel like getting in some DS, you better believe the TV's on at the same time.

I want my cell phone to play my tunes, I want my cell phone to be my point-and-shoot. If my cell phone played ROMs, then I'd be hard-pressed to re-purchase Chrono Trigger, because I have my copies of the game and at least ROMs can port save games. I'll never buy a point-and-shoot for myself, it's too narrowly-purposed.

But there's a fine line. When a gadget's scope is too great, it becomes central and all things suffer. I would enjoy checking my email with my phone, but the ability to withstand my music library is more important. Suffice it to say, I still have my dedicated PMP.

And I still have my crappy phone.

Despite the first Mass Effect being billed as an Xbox 360 exclusive, famed developer BioWare tells Joystiq that it has "never confirmed any plans of Mass Effect exclusivity for the trilogy."

Though the sci-fi action-RPG later appeared on PC, the title is still considered an Xbox 360 exclusive in terms of the console market--meaning it has not appeared on rival systems PlayStation 3 or Wii.

PS3 guys, I'm going to ruin it for you. Mass Effect was a beautiful, plot-driven Cleavland steamer. With it's fantastic visuals, the game actually starts in on choppy when you're talking and smiling at the same time. The incredible voice acting insures that no matter what decisions you make, the actors say exactly the same thing and none of your decisions affect the game, and then at the very end, you can talk the boss into suicide. HAHA, spoiled!

But you see, that's not clever, it's, God damn necessary, since, you know what? there's no point in wasting your time fighting, everything after hour 4 you can pistol-whip to death. I know because I did that with my spy--who can use sniper rifles but not assault rifles. You do have to make a handful of chicken-shit decisions where you can pick some of your party to kill, which is fine because they're totally static and you don't care about them anyway. It's not like you don't have more pleasure girls on your battleship The Casual Encounter.

And I hope you like pointless, derivative, and dull minigames, oh yeah. There's only the two, but you get to do them, like, anytime you aren't having sex with a tentacle.

Making Gaming Better @ bit-tech.net
Buy the games
Piracy is a topic in itself. It goes without saying that devs need to eat and if a game doesn't sell you can kiss goodbye to support, sequels and similar games. If you are playing a game you haven't bought, you are invisible as far as the developer is concerned. Only by buying the games you like can you possibly encourage similar, good quality games to be made. And confront other people who are pirating games too. You are subsidising them getting free games, so make sure they know how you feel about such freeloading. People asking for cracks on developer forums are the worst of all – report them, and tell them it's not acceptable.

How to Fix PC Gaming Once and for All @ ExtremeTech
Fix the Piracy Problem or Shut Up About it
I, and a great deal of gamers, are so damn sick of hearing developers whine about piracy. Look, if it's that big a deal to you (and noting that unprotected sometimes make a killing), fix it. And I don't mean by making your CD keys 10 digits longer than they are now. In fact, you can shove those CD keys somewhere painful, because they obviously don't work. If you want to stop pirates, quit whining and use your heads. If you can program a game that takes up five gigabytes of my hard drive, you can figure out a way to make it uncrackable without forcing me to stand on my head and recite the alphabet backward to play it. Maybe online distribution is the key, with online components that, unless they're present, cripple the experience. I know that would piss off anyone without a decent online connection, but who cares?

What the hell is wrong with me!? I'm in complete agreement with ExtremeTech and, holy shit, Cliff Harris, you're a Goddamn pussy. If I can't act like a jerk online, I'll wither. And I'm not going to dick around trying to get Dwarf Fortress to work if I can just play some Bioshock.

So if you're reading this, and think that maybe playing an hour or two of Team Fortress after work just to tell a n00b that you fucked his mom with a pole* sounds like a great idea, kick it up a kick tonight--and maybe Cliff will just give up.

*you can all thank kurtis for introducing this idiom to my lexicon--it's pretty funny, after all

Insurmountable evidence points to the cause of the power outage: my neighbor's tree grounded a bolt of lightning. I thought it was peculiar that I could see the lightning and hear the thunder at the same time.

For being such a nice day, everything's wet. The whole city got hit by a flash flood and cars were shorted out at rush hour as far as the eye could see. It would have been funnier if my power wasn't killed by the same precipitate...

Apparently, it is unclear to the executives behind Transformers why we, and many other nerds, watched the show to begin with. We suppose the burden of responsibility falls on us to clarify: It's the giant robots fighting each other . In case you guys weren't sure–if, perhaps, it was neck and neck between robot-fighting and data analysis–we pray ours can be the deciding vote. When you have five loose-cannon robots, all of whom are just itching to fight other robots with or without a reasonable excuse, for Christ's sake, don't ruin every single one of them by sticking them together to make Nerdmotron 6000.

The most enlightening thing about this article was how all grown up Cracked is on the Internet.

That, and how could they not make fun of Cosmos? The dude transformed from a tiny green spaceship into a GoBot.

Independence day. The day we were all saved by one of the Quaids plowing right into the wang of a UFO. Also, we were saved by an Apple, what was it? A MacBook? 'Cause that Objective-C be tight. We shall never forget the day Jeff Goldblum stuttered, insisting we must go faster, and the downed Will Smith punched an alien instead of barbecuing. Long live the First Lady, re-born as the once-again dying--what I mean by that is she's dying--President of Battlestar Galactica.

This Friday, July 6th The Tatamimats will be doing an encore performance of "Dark Side of the Uke", their ukulele-only version of Pink Floyd's classic album "Dark Side of the Moon". The show takes place at The Knockout in San Francisco and is in celebration of The Knockout's 2nd anniversary. The Knockout is in the venue that was previously Chicken John's infamous Odeon Bar.

I heartily recommend that anyone who enjoys "Dark Side of the Moon" check out "Dark side of the Moon 2001" by Out of Phase.

But this is definitely as cool as While My Guitar Gently Weeps on the "uke". Of course, the guy looks like his mom was a Muppet and his dad was a bottle of cologne.

All citizens please move to quarantine in Sector 1, District 1. Please have your identification ready. In the meanwhile, pay attention to the brief playing on the monitors. Welcome home!

So Digg did something that protected their interests, so that they could continue to earn their living and all that and not get crushed by the DMCA. I have little issue with that. To be honest, I've been ignoring what's going on with the HD-DVD key and Digg and the people who love/hate them.

I really hate how many people are calling this an "Internet Riot".

Let's go past the fact that if this were a riotous event spawned by Internet activity, there would still be people, all over the world, smashing cars, flipping them over, destroying public places and damaging any and all property at arm's reach. That's not even what's going on symbologically. I may have made up that word. The point is that Digg isn't getting demolished, other neighboring social networks aren't suffering any wandering flames, and most importantly, the FBI isn't hunting down any out-of-control script kiddies.

This isn't a riot, nothing's in need of rebuilding, and honestly, I think most people have kind of changed the subject already. We just saw a bunch of Internet monkeys flinging poo. We've all done it before, (metaphorically, dear God I mean metaphorically) but if we plan on living near this series of tubes we're going to have to ignore this stuff.

For the next couple of weeks, though, we're going to see a lot of people who are crapping into their palms as I write this--Ars, don't think I'm not looking in your direction--but Jesus, it's just a website. You can ape up for the next round of high-level scat-slinging, or, you know, go outside, it's spring, and all beautiful 'n' stuff.

For the first time in my life I will endorse World of Warcraft as the better pastime.