Uppity-Negro.com

The Matrix Reloaded is playing at the Navy Pier IMAX through the end of next week. It's tempting, since a) the Burly Brawl™ will probably look even more impressive (or, conversely, more like CGI), and b)

Architect: The first site I designed was quite naturally perfect. It was a work of art. . . flawless, sublime. And triumphed equally only by its monumental failure. The inevitability of its doom is apparent to me now as a consequence of the imperfection inherent in every human being. Thus. I redesigned it based on your history to more accurately reflect the varying grotesqueries of your nature. However, I was again frustrated by failure. I have since come to understand that the answer eluded me because it required a lesser mind, or perhaps a mind less bound by the parameters of perfection. Thus the answer was stumbled upon by another -- an intuitive program, initially created to investigate certain aspects of the human psyche. If I am the father of the site, she would undoubtedly be its Mother.

Me: . . . buh?

Architect: Please. As I was saying, she stumbled upon a solution whereby nearly 99% of all test visitors accepted the site, as long as they were given a choice. . . even if they were only aware of the choice at a near unconscious level. While this answer functioned, it was obviously fundamentally flawed, thus creating the otherwise contradictory systemic anomaly that if left unchecked might threaten the system itself. Ergo those that refused the site, while a minority, if unchecked would constitute an escalating probability of disaster.

Me: . . . buh?

Architect: You are here because Uppity-Negro.com is about to be destroyed -- its every living visitor terminated, its entire existence eradicated.

Me: . . . buh?

Architect: Confusion about my dialogue is the most predictable of all human responses, but rest assured...this will be the 6th time we have destroyed it, and we have become exceedingly efficient at it. The function of the site owner is now to return to viewing the Source, allowing a temporary dissemination of the code you carry, reinserting the prime program. After which, you will be required to select from the site 23 visitors -- 16 females, 7 male -- to rebuild Uppity-Negro.com. Failure to comply with this process will result in a cataclysmic system crash, killing everyone linking to the site, which coupled with the extermination of Uppity-Negro.com will ultimately result in the extinction of the entire human race.

Me: 16 women who post at this site? Um, that'll get you the design and coding skills, sure, but other'n that, I see a tiny flaw in your plan. . .

Architect: There are levels of queerness we are prepared to accept.

I might actually be able to follow The Architect's infodump the second time around.

And c) [and most importantly] IMAX Monica Bellucci. Think about it, won't you?

Anyway, I expect I will have to do some playing around with the code here again. Drapetomaniac mentioned the display problems in IE 5, which normally I would cheerfully ignore, but I just started a full-time job last week. Working for The Man. Or rather, working for a temp agency which is sending me to work for The Man. Which is better'n the guy in the cube next to me, who's working for another temp agency subcontracting with the one I'm working for, putting him at two levels of remove from his place of actual employment. Gotta love that New Economy. . .

Not only does this mean limited or no updates during the day -- sure, no one's said that blogging on company time is a no-no, and it's better to ask forgiveness (upon being caught) than seek permission, but I'm also stuck using The Man's operating system (my first time using Windows 2000 Professional. Gods, I hate it so.), and an older version of The Man's browser, the afore-mentioned IE 5. I expect this is that Instant Karma stuff biting me in the ass.

I should also get around to updating/removing some of the moved/broken links over on the right -- the ones that don't show up in IE5 at the moment. Laura, is the new location permanent? Or as permanent as things get around here, anyway?