Saturday, August 11, 2012

Existence, Sales, and the SSSDSSSSTS

I'm sorry I haven't said much over the last few months. I guess I was a little busy with this and that.
Anyway, I've decided that every 11th of a month, I'm going to start writing something. Then on the 12th, I'll put it here.
Today, it's recognition.
Ask yourself, do dragons exist? Do they? Of course not. If there were giant green scaly things that breathe fire was out and about, then don't you think we'd be a bit worried. Don't be silly Mr. Hester, dragons don't exist. Now keep on going like that, and we'll put you into an asylum.
Ah, but don't they? I mean, look at time. You can't feel it, you can't smell, and you certainly can't affect it. We're not sure that it even exists. But still, we have little round things on our wrists that actually measures this non-existent time.
Likewise, dragons exist. Not as actual manifested flesh, but at least as ideas. There is this definite idea of dragons that we all know, and it exists.
But obviously, there's a problem. When Lewis Carroll wrote The Jabberwocky, did he make lots of things suddenly exist at once? Did all the Bandersnatches, and the Borogroves started to jump up from their ethereal non-existence, into this wonderful new world of existence? Everytime I roll a dice 5 times to choose 5 random letters, hkldn, and I call it one of the legendary monsters that live in the ocean, has 3 wings, and shows no remorse, does it suddenly exist.
I say yes. Yes, they all exist. They exist now. Disagree? Then you might as well time doesn't exist, and turn up 2 hours late to a meeting. I mean, it doesn't exist.
Then dragons. Say we have 10 people gathered round. We all have slightly different interpretation of a dragon. Does that mean 10 different dragons exist? Or do 10 different things exist that happens to have the same name?
Let me also put this in another way. The Western view of the dragon is something scaly, fat, with big wings, breathes fire, and acts like a bully. Say that to the Chinese. Their dragon is long, thin, short limbs, flies with little to no wings, and is generally nice.
So if different cultures have different dragons, then different people would also have different dragons right?
So what if we export this idea from dragons into sales. Say someone gives you a some paper telling you about the Super Sucka Sucky Ducky Slooper Sucker Sackless Sackle Tackle Sucker (SSSDSSSSTS). The bit of paper tells you that it will suck up 99% of all aldehyde on the floor with ease for either a one off payment of $399.99 or a monthly payment of $23.99 over 2 years.
Now, you being clever, say to yourself, instead of paying long term, it's very much cheaper if I buy on the spot. I'll take it!
Of course, you being not clever, find that aldehyde aren't very plentiful on the floor, at least in remotely lethal quantities. It also happens to be awful at sucking up anything else on the floor.
And then there is one interesting thing here. "Ease". Does this thing called "ease" exist? Not physically. But we would recognise it right?
The problem with the SSSDSSSSTS was that every time you would run over a patch of aldehyde, it would suck up 99% of it on the floor, but only 99%. So once you had the first 99% off, you had to go over it again to get 99% off the resulting 1%, and then get the rest off whatever was left again.
Even worse, there was absolutely no "ease" involved. It was big, heavy, luggy, awkward, unethical, and most certainly uneasy. It was hard to operate, it stuck to the floor and went on munching it if you didn't move it quickly. (Well, now you have a good excuse for why it looks like gophers have been going around your home.) It was definitely something you would call "ease".
So obviously, you would go ring up the company selling the SSSDSSSSTS and complain about it. They want to contest that you're probably not using it right. They would send over a professional to show you how it's used.
And what a professional it was. Professional assassin it looked like. He was so big, so menacing, so strong, that you would have expected him to be winning gold for the weight lifting world wide, if he was a little less strong. Consequently, due to his immense strength, he obviously operates in the shadier places of town.
And when you see him operate the SSSDSSSSTS, you can't help but feel you're using it wrong. He swept up most of the aldehyde in your home very quickly, and he carried the thing like it was made of feathers.
"Dat was easy." the scary man said.
Of course, when you actually got hold of your SSSDSSSSTS again, it was back to being that clump of concrete again. That's not easy at all.
So you phone the company again, complaining that the machine is not easy to use at all. You could almost here the lady on the phone (I mean, I'm not being misogynistic. It's just that whenever you phone a company to complain about something, it's always a woman, because as a man, you would feel horrible about yelling at ladies.) shrugging and saying "Well, it's really subjective I guess."
Is it? Is ease for me different to ease for you?
Well back to dragons. Sure, my dragon might be better than your dragon, and my dad is probably better than your dad, but really? If you drew what you thought a dragon was, I would probably recognise it, and if I drew mine, (provided I'm a good enough artist) you would recognise it as well.
So although we all have different views of dragons, we can to a certain degree, recognise dragons.
Likewise, we can recognise ease.
If you were shown a photo of a beach resort with happy surfers on the sea, with sunning bodies on the sand, and dads cooking (burning) sausages on the barbie, you can recognise that as ease right? (Well, apart from that act of arson I guess.)
Likewise, if I showed you a photo of a slave market with young children being made to work day and night, old people being subjected to abuse, and young ladies doing who-knows-what, then that's obviously not ease is it? (I apologise for the graphic display I'm showing here, but at least it's easy to visualise?)
So here, we can probably assume that we would not recognise using the SSSDSSSSTS as ease, and so would we not be entitled to sue this evil company for their false advertisement?
But again, it's probably subjective.
If you want to go poking holes in my logic, go ahead. Humour me.

Monday, June 25, 2012

Watch this Space

My friend and I are starting a project, and I'm helping out from a distance. It's going to be big, it's going to be awesome, and it's going to be gargantuan.

And it's going to be a film.

And I'm not sure if we'll even take off.

But anyway, I'm not supposed to say much about this project, except that it's going to have robots, aliens, and beautiful actors in it.

That is all.

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

The Sacking

I'm an awful person. But that's all right. I just forgot my update last week. But here's this week's!

Sack of Essentials

It's a bag! Hurrah! Now I just realised that if you American lot, (100% of my follower(s)) don't know what cricket is, then it's all right. I don't play cricket either. Too busy doing Blender. But none of my stuff is interesting unless you do know what it is, so go to Waikaipaydia and go check Cricket.

I love you all, now have fun.

Saturday, May 12, 2012

The Small Bail Out

Yes! It's Sunday! That means I actually have time! So here:

Ready To Play

It's a... Um... A pair of cricket bails that gets stuck on your chest. Hm... I say.
Anyway, as underwhelming as this might be, I hope you'll enjoy the next few ones that continue this cricket motif, because I like them better.

On another note, some of my other stuff got fixed. First, my cricket cap is (I hope) no longer a blob of green, and the Gummy Bear is now paintable. So I haven't been lazing around.

Saturday, May 5, 2012

Aussie Pride

Hi! If you're reading this, then you are cool. Everybody else, eh.

Anyway, here's my first proper update:

Aussie Pride

Is it a bird, is  it a plane? No, the reality is much less exciting. It's a hat. Your ordinary garden hat. I'm almost uncertain why I even posted this thing, but I did. So there.

Anyway, have fun!

Friday, May 4, 2012

Something Sour, Something Sweet

Being bored, I decided that enough is enough:

Luke and Emily sat tied to a chair alone in a similiarly fashioned room as the one Luke was held in before, only the television was larger, and there was a door and a window painted black so you couldn't see outside. Luke was pretty happy, because it was not playing Grey's Anatomy, but was switched off.
Meanwhile, Emily was making an attempt to break out of her ropes by doing some very elaborate wiggling.
"Don't bother." Luke told her. "There's no use, you'll just tire out."
The rope neatly fell around her.
Luke frowned. "I hate it when you do that."
"Now I'll get you out." Emily whispered. She pulled a pen knife from her pocket andproceeded to cut Luke's bonds. But when he was finally free, the two heard footsteps coming from outside.
When the four guards came in, the first thing they saw was metal glinting in Luke's hand.
"I have a revolver and I'm not afraid to use it!" Luke yelled somewhat shakily. Although his voice lacked any conviction at alll, the guards all took cover and raised their weapons.
"That's not a revolver, it's a fountain pen." Emily said, at which the guards all relaxed and giggled shyly as if it was all a bad dream.
"I have a model revolver back home, and if I had it here, I wouldn't be afraid to whack people on the head with it. But seeing that all I have here is a fountain pen, I have to improvise. So technically, it's not a lie." Luke continued to point his pen at the men, while they pointed a minigun at him in return.
"Put that down." she told Luke. "You look daft."
"Rather be daft than dead." Luke sniffed indignantly. "Anyway, see here. If I..." Luke squeezed, and the green ink flew into the face of the largest guard.

Three guards and a Grinch led Luke and Emily,  with their hands tied again, in to a room with one large window looking out at what might be a foundry, or maybe even a chocolate factory. Either way, molten metal was involved.
There were two seats prepared, and Emily sat in one with pride. Luke sat in one with a black eye.
"Welcome back comrades!" the speaker blared out from the corner of the room. "It is always nice to be reacqquainted with old friends."
Emily spat at the speaker, which was an amazing feat as it was a good few meters away.
"Today, we would like to threaten you." he continued as if it was something old friends would do to each other. "Ready the tools."
A cauldron full of bubbling metal was brought before them. A mechanical hand descended from above clutching the familiar grey...
"Gyro?" Luke said. "What are you doing here?"   
The voice groaned. "You would think it was obvious. He would be submerged into that puddle of metal, and then cooled, and trapped in an eternal prison. Unless..."
"Unless?" Luke asked suspiciously. "There's always a catch, and it's usually fatal."
"Unless you bring us the time machine." he said.
Luke looked relieved. "Wow! Is that all?"
Luke explained, "Because I literally cannot do that, therefore Gyro is doomed, and I have no moral qualms and free of guilt."
Although they could not see the man frowning, they were certain he was.
"Very well." he said. "Drop it."
The mechanical hand opened, and Gyro dropped in with a dull splash. The caudron bubbled ominously for a moment, and then was wheeled off out of sight. A few seconds later, it came back with its content solid.
The mechanical arm tipped the dome shaped bit of metal out, and rolled on the floor with a sort of oonga oonga oonga oonga wawawawawa.
Emily stared at the clump shocked, and even more shocked at the fact that Luke was now whistling to the tune of Bonnie Dundee with no moral derailment at all.
"And you are not affected at all?" the voice asked curiously.
"Not at all." Luke answered lightly. "Emily, I suggest you close your eyes, and face away from the window. Oh, you guys can do so too." The last remark was made to the four guards standing behind him. Out of stubbornness, they didn't move at all.
"What?" she asked unbelievingly.
"I wouldn't want to see your pretty face get splintered." he said simply. Luke somehow turned his seat around, and so did Emily.
There was an almighty bang, and bits of splintered glass flew all around them. The two suddenly found the three guards and the Grinch knocked out on the floor with a very large and solid but hot bit of aluminium beside each head. Luke looked back, and saw Gyro quite out of his prison, and very much angry.
"What? Impossible..." the voice started, but was cut off when Gyro angrily smashed the speaker in the corner.
Emily looked surprised. "Oh, so this..." Something in her pocket flashed wildly, and she stopped it. "Time to get out..." she continued, and pulled out her trusty make-a-hole-in-the-wall pistol.
"No need." Luke said, as Gyro rammed in to the nearest wall and and collapsed all four through the shock. "Ha. We don't need to make any decisions. We can just go anywhere we want."
"Oh come on." Emily pulled Luke by the cuffs and ran. Gyro simply rolled around very quickly.
"Ah, back again!" Emily laughed as she darted around the labyrinth. Luke laughed awkwardly with her because it felt appropriate. "Which way should we go?" she asked.
"What about no where?" the voice boomed in the corridor.
"What about forward?" another voice boomed.
A garage fell in front of them from the ceiling, nearly crushing Gyro. (What am I saying? Gyro can't be crushed.) The door rised slowly.
After three seconds, the door was still rising and a pair of skinny legs were seen. A multitude of guards has by now caught up to them, and were priming their guns. One guard fired.
"Luke! Emily! Quick!" Trevor said from behind the corrugated iron.
After another three seconds, the door had stopped. It seemed that the guard had wrecked the motor. All the other guards were ready to pull the trigger.
Emily yelled, "Don't bother waiting for the door! Just crawl in!"
She expertly lunged and rolled under the door with a hail of bullets and electron fragments peppering the floor behind her. Luke expertly lunged, and threw himself at the door like no one else could. Unfortunately, that was not appropriate for the occasion, and he crumpled unconscious on the floor. He was quickly dragged into the garage, and it disappeared into a quantum dimension of quasi-space-time.
"Take us to Rome." Emily ordered, Trevor did so, while she started wrapping a bandage around Luke's head. "Tomorrow, we fight."
Trevor and Emily stared ahead solemnly, while Luke stayed unconscious.
"Stop sounding so serious." Trevor told her.

Saturday, April 28, 2012

The Disastrousness of My Falour

If anybody notices, I spelled failure wrong. I don't know why either.

Anyway, from now on, two things are going to happen. I'm going to actually say stuff to this place, and hope that someone would be listening.

Next, I'll be updating this place with all my TF2 stuff. Because I can.

And next, (one, five, two) I'm going to go philosophical occasionally. If I have time. Hopefully.

So without further a dew, here's my first TF2 WorkShop Update

The Gummibaerchen

To all who do not realise, this project is floundering, so I decided to help it out.
We're all happy too.
It's essentially a little team coloured teddy that sits on the medic's shoulders. I should make this paintable too. Someday.

So there you go:
Hope you have fun.

Monday, April 2, 2012

I'm here! And so is the Academical Assassin!

With a web page:

I've submitted a work on the Steam Workshop! If you like it, please rate it!
I know TF2's a violent and unwholesome game, but I kind of fell in love with it after seeing the sort of art that oges on, and so I've decided I might add something to it.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Wat I've been doing, what I have done, what will be done.

People! (One) I have not said anything in a long time. But there is no reason for this, except pure laziness, so I won't try to excuse it.

So what's happened in my life? Well now that work begun, I got busy, and lost almost all time for Blender. Boo yah.

But I recently, finally, managed to have a go at Bmesh. It is great. It is wonderful. It is marvellous. Yee haw!

I've also newly installed Windows 8
I know it's not open source, but it is great! After let down by Ubuntu for copy-catting Macs, (Which I vehemently hate) I thought I couldn't expect more out of OSs. Well maybe not. The image up there might not look a lot, but the start menu and such like are so charming!
This is just marvellous. Pure marvelousness.

Oh, and I've been wasting time watching Quit Blender or Die!, over and over again. :

Thursday, February 23, 2012

History, Philosophy, and the Great Leader Hitler

Now before anyone beats me up and labels me for the title, I want you to read the rest of this post, or I'll start labeling you.

First, I believe that teaching justice in school history is wrong. We are taught that the Righteous Americans beat the evil Japanese and Germans, or that The British Empire was the pinnacle of civilisation. Now I don't like that. History should just tell the story, and keep any opinions out of it.

Next, philosophy should be taught in school. Although history shouldn't teach these things, philosophy should. See, history should teach people to throw away judgmentalism, and take a completely subjective look at what happened. Philosophy, on the other hand, is all about judgement, and although teachers shouldn't explicitly tell students what is write or wrong, they should teach them to make their own decisions.

Finally, Hitler is not Evil. Misguided? Probably. Didn't-make-good-choices? Well, you judge that for yourself. Hitler might have been a terrible person, but he was a great leader like nobody else was. He was able to band great number of people together, to unite for a common purpose, as wrong as that purpose may be. I think lots of people can learn from Hitler, although what we learn from him is important.

So that's me for today. I felt judgmental today, so I had a go at writing this.

Monday, February 6, 2012 is GREAT

I think so anyway. I haven't really had a go at it, but seeing 3D on the web seems wonderful! See this:

I happened to be on the move, so I didn't have a decent model to work with, or a graphics card that runs webGL, so I have no idea what it looks like. Better have a look at it at home.

EDIT: I got the Matador on! Only the normals are weird.

Friday, February 3, 2012

Lil' Pics

Let me tell you that I believe I'm a pacifist. Or queasy. Which ever you like. I do not like weapons, at least in real life. I especially do not like guns or other projectiles, and would prefer if the world returned to swords and shields. However, I do not like swords and knives, because there's too much blood involved. I did say I was queasy.

What I find nice, however, is visual weapon design. It looks like any 3D artist worth their salt is doing it, and it has a sort of romance to it. (Remember, romance has many definitions, and I'm not using the 'Love' definition.)

You may remember me putting this a long time ago. As you can see, I've finally finished Ben, and I've also (with some hurry and lack of care) finished the rocket launcher. I love designing rocket launchers because you can go crazy, and nobody minds.

Who is this mysterious ranger of the outback?

He's not mysterious, he's not a ranger, and he doesn't live in the outback. So what use does he have of a elaborately designed rocket launcher?
Of course, the one thing this rocket launcher does not do is launch rockets. Maybe a project for next time.

Saturday, January 28, 2012

Ben is BIA

By the way, BIA stands for Back In Action. I don't know if it's an official acronym, but I don't care either.
So what I've done, is completely remade Ben after his cranial injury, and patched him up again. I also gave him some clothes...
A sort of generic and simple pose I had at the start.

Then I tried some extreme poses.
I went for a different mood this time, only I don't think it worked.

Ssh! He's thinking.

So for those people who were wondering about my brain, it exists.

Saturday, January 21, 2012

An episode. Here ye go.

I found it! It was on my desktop all along!

Emily gasped, as she beheld the should-be-dead person approach her. Luke found this strangely satisfying, both because it feels good to know something Einstein doesn't, but also because her hair bobbed up and down in such an amusing way.
Trevor frowned lightly. "Well? Is anyone going to greet me?"
Luke raised his right hand. "Hi." he said with little spirit.
"How did you get here?" Emily asked.
A hole opened up in the ceiling behind him, and a red motorbike came down.
Emily continued. "But you're dead."
Trevor grinned. "Death is no obstacle for me."
She raised her eyebrows. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." he said, nodding gently. They stood in silence, while Luke stared at the floor.
Finally, Luke said, "Well, seeing that Trevor doesn't seem inclined to explain, I think I should."
"Right!" Trevor said. "Seeing as I'm the only one with the bike, I say we walk."
So the three walked together with the bike slowly following on its own. On the way, Luke explained how there was a set date at which Trevor was to die. However, he was free to do anything until that date, so with the time machine, he could travel so that he would, in total, live to a good age of whatever he deemed appropriate.
"Well," Luke said after a while. "Miss Emily Byron..."
"Stop it..." she growled, and Luke nearly saluted and accompanied it with  "Yes, ma'am"
"Um, where are we?" Luke asked.
Emily rolled her eyes. "We all want the time machine."
"I figured that." Luke said. Trevor raised his eye brows.
"There are... certain objectives we would both like to achieve."
He frowned. "You're not going to tell me that are you?"
"Nope." Emily said.
It felt like they have walked on for a very long time, and it was excruciating for Luke because it felt like this underground floor had no end, and he didn't exactly know where the goal was.
Trevor decided to speak. "You wanted the time machine?"
"Were you listening?" she asked jokingly.
Trevor grinned in that triumphant/goofy way people usually do when people realise something. "There's a time machine here."
The three  turned around at the time machine/motorbike that rolled to a stop.
"Wait..." she whispered. She went to the seat and gazed quickly at the controls, hoping to understand the myriad of switches and lights that fitted in what small space there was. But she turned away in dismay to Trevor.
"Trevor, I don't understand this. In fact, there are only three people that do. But..." Her eyes sparkled, and Luke stepped back.
"What is it?" he asked.
Emily breathed in proudly. "Well, Trevor would use the time machine to get to the past, and to HQ, while we stay here. They would manufacture a larger scale machine, we would eventually get the time machine they needed while we stay here until Trevor comes back, and we get back in a huff!"
Luke shrugged. "I don't know much about timing, but it sounds like a good idea to me."
"Right!" Trevor said, and grasped the helmet that hung on the handlebar. Then he paused.
"Well? How will I know where HQ is?" he asked.
"All roads lead to Rome." she answered.
"Where in..."
Emily answered exasperated, "We have a time machine for goodness sake! We can sort this out in the future. Well, our future."
Trevor frowned, but proceeded to get on the motorbike anyway. With the loud purring of the Harley, Trevor drove 3 meters before he disappeared unceremoniously.
The two stood around, quite unsure of what to expect. Luke whistled German national anthem. Or at least what he thought was the German national anthem. Emily, who knew better, glared at him to stop.
When Luke got bored of awkwardly staring at his foot, he asked, "What do we do now?"
Emily took a look at her watch. "It's already been three minutes. Trevor should be back by now."
"Nah. Don't worry about it. He's always tardy."
Just then, a small round object rolled at Luke's feet. While his head said "Grenade!" his inner boy said "Stomp on it! Stomp on it or throw it back at 'em!". Fortunately, Emily was a bit more clever, and she kicked it as quick and far away as possible. She threw herself and Luke down on the ground, and covered her own ears in expectation of an explosion.
Quite unfortunately for her, it didn't happen. All that she could here was that grating laughter of the mysterious voice.
"Really," he said, chuckling along the way. "You should have a look at yourself and see how ridiculous you look."
Three large men literary armed to the teeth (artificial fangs) approached the two with ropes. Lots and lots of ropes.
Luke smiled weakly. "Don't worry. I know how ridiculous I look."

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

I just want to tell people something.

I'm not dead! Yes. Quite true. That's very hard to believe. Anyway, I lost my sticky that I had all my future Dymo/Luke Newton episodes in, so I'll have to go a-hunting for them. Oh, well.
Anyway, happy new years!

This is Dymo

About Me

My photo
New Zealand
He has many ambitions, some of which include art, while others include food. The common feature of all his ambitions is that they involve him staying at home. This comic is one of them.

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