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Tycho / on Mon, Nov 25 2002 at 6:52 am

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A Meditation On Value

As media enthusiasts on the fringe of the sensible, we’re all no doubt familiar with Monster Cable.  They have crafted a niche for themselves as a producer of luxury wire, spooking consumers with grave proclamations regarding “attenuation” and “dirty power.”  The copy on the back always tends to lay it on a bit thick, conferring an almost totemic quality to these strands which are, it would appear, humanity’s last bulwark versus nebulous evil.  He was just starting to get into home theater when we lived together, and he’d assure me that he was sensitive to the minute fibrillations of audio purity provided by substandard cabling.  When he picked up the Monster Cable surge protector yesterday, I had to act.

People are always telling me that this strip or that strip or this newspost or whatever is the last thing they’re ever going to read on the site, and they’ve got all these reasons and shit for why that would be the case.  I don’t know if they thought we were dating, or what, but please don’t feel the need to tell me everything you are doing or not doing.  I got a great one Friday that said that we were so “big” now that we didn’t need the readers.  Nevermind that you’re “big” directly in proportion to your readers, but his mail was a fractured adventure of misplaced aggression and clumsy logic so this point in particular is really the least of his problems.  I honestly didn’t know what he was talking about, anyway.  We did this when we had absolutely no readers, readership has never been our purpose, which is why I’ve always assumed we were so successful at attracting it.  It’s an accident.  And besides, I think the deal you and I have is pretty good!  You can come here three times a week and read stuff if you want to.  If you stop liking it, I see no reason to prostrate myself before you.  Go somewhere else. 

Apparently the Xbox Live thing Gabe was talking about made people mad.  The presumption of many mails we received is that we are now performing some sort of penis-related service on Microsoft, because we’d rather people use unadulterated machines on Live.  Believe you me, I’m a nutcase about DRM, Palladium, all that shit, and that’s not what this is about.  Playing on Xbox Live isn’t some Constitutional fucking right, it’s a service whose quality cannot be guaranteed without strict conformity on the client. 

Back to cock sucking, though. 

Nevermind that we thrashed the Goddamn thing for an entire year when it didn’t live up to our expectations and sported a sort of tepid exclusive library.  I’m as shocked as the next guy, but Live and even the Xbox - both 1.0 products - have really shaped up to be something great, and if that is the case, you can be assured that we’re going to say something about it.  When I read these mails, I entertain the fact that you may be right when you say that I crave corporate prong.  Then I say, “No, it’s not the prong I crave, it’s something else, I really like games, and if I think people should know about something good then I will tell them.”  I give you the benefit of the doubt when you write, and it is very natural for me to question my actions because I’ve always found myself loathsome, like a dog’s corpse.  The next time you decide to crank up that Fancy Machine and write me some mail, why not simply return the favor?  Zip up those pants, and ask yourself: Am I a fucking crybaby?  Can I imagine a universe where I might be wrong?       

(CW)TB out.

put me to the test

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