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Holy truncation!

Christ…, you’re about to unlock your Gold Box(tm) offers!

Off Topic, But…. (Score:5, Funny)
by Tsali (594389) on Fri 29 Aug 07:33PM (#6830656)

How many /.’ers actually own a lava lamp?

Good.

Now, how many of those who raised their hand are involved in a relationship with someone.

Ahhh. You in the back. Anyone else? Good.

Thanks.
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This space for rent…

I’ve expanded my tentative exploration of the offerings of a particular independent Canadian beverage outfit to their cream soda, having already become enamored of their root beer (as a locally-available alternative to Henry’s). The cream soda is also excellent! It’s actually rather unlike cream sodas I’ve had in the past — this particular interpretation has a wonderful cotton-candy aroma, and a similar flavor. Quite sweet (it’s cream soda, after all) but, honestly, not even as sticky-sweet tasting as Pepsi.

The reconstruction of Iraq is held above our heads like a promise and a threat. People roll their eyes at reconstruction because they know (Iraqis are wily) that these dubious reconstruction projects are going to plunge the country into a national debt only comparable to that of America. A few already rich contractors are going to get richer, Iraqi workers are going to be given a pittance and the unemployed Iraqi public can stand on the sidelines and look at the glamorous buildings being built by foreign companies.

Riverbend, the newest Baghdad blogger taking the world by surprise with her incisive commentary and resilient wit. Just like with Raed, people are wondering if she’s for real. But William Gibson makes a compelling argument for her authenticity: “I have doubts about the assumption that there could not be, today, in a population the size of Baghdad’s, Iraqi’s in their mid-twenties whose English is fluent and idiomatic.”

OK, looked out all the windows, can’t see for the life of me where this helicopter is. The sound is fading in and out slightly, which implies a patrol — perhaps a suspect on foot? Anyway, all I can really see tonight is Mars, bright orange, high in the southern sky.

Um, so, the distinct sound of a helicopter has been filtering through our double-paned-glass windows for at least a half-hour now. It hasn’t really varied much in tempo or strength, so I suspect it’s idling in a field somewhere, ready to life-flight someone to safety.

But if it was so urgent that they needed to send a helicopter, doesn’t a delay of a half-hour mean that the time for urgency has, uh, passed?