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Professor Møbius
Ranger
Level 6: 1251 points
Last Logged In: July 3rd, 2012
TEAM: The Disorganised Guerilla War On Boredom and Normality TEAM: SCIENCE! TEAM: Level Zerø TEAM: INFØ TEAM: Silly Hats Only TEAM: The Adherents of the Repeated Meme BART Psychogeographical Association Rank 2: Trafficker The University of Aesthematics Rank 2: Dealer Humanitarian Crisis Rank 5: Diplomat Biome Rank 4: Ranger Chrononautic Exxon Rank 3: Historiographer Society For Nihilistic Intent And Disruptive Efforts Rank 2: Trickster

Professor Møbius / Texts

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posted by Professor Møbius on June 20th, 2010 9:23 PM

(The following is slightly inappropriate in some places, more than vaguely vulgar, and absolutely insane.)
(There are pictures, they will be included eventually)

Last night was perfectly average, sane and normal - as sane and normal as stuff gets when I hang out with Miss Tiffany and Miss Selah - as we sat and ate our nommy barbeque (I think it was nommy, but then again, I cooked it, so I'm biased) and talked about things, and pointfully didn't talk about others. When they finished, and decided it was time to go to their respective homes, to spend time with their families, I retired for the night and sat in my house idly reading "Stranger in a Strange Land", wondering what tomorrow could bring for me.

[June 20, 2010]

1:57 AM, My house - My roommate (Moose) walks in to my living room, where Tirius and I are casually discussing the merits of "Starship Troopers" (we're big Heinlein fans), and declares that he's going to pierce his own genitals, in our bathroom, and would like someone to shout through the door walking him through it. A needle and a lighter were produced and he began musing what he wanted to put in the new perforation; we asked him if he felt it was necessary, to which he replied "YES!".

1:59 AM - Moose decides he wants a professional to do it, since he's afraid of bleeding out through his family jewels (not dying, just dying that way), and demands that one be open right then. A scour of the internet reveals that none are open, and that he'll have to wait until 7AM for the earliest. This is deemed unacceptable. He proposes that we go get fireworks - we retort with the fact that the nearest fireworks with going to are 370 miles away, in Battle Mountain, Nevada.

2:00 AM - Directions to Battle Mountain have been printed, and summarily lit on fire after I attempt to memorize them in the most cursory of manners. Towels are collected as Moose speeds off to get energy drinks and gas, Tirius is confused, but seems ready to go along with this.

2:11 AM, Front curb - Moose pulls up, we hop in, with nothing but towels and phones, and set off. I begin documenting the trip on blogger (LINK), for lack of any better way to do it. It is immediately established that there are no plans beyond the singular objective of getting fireworks, there will be no questions asked (only demands and statements), and that spontaneity will be our guide. Tirius is yelled at by Moose for asking questions about the 'no questions' rule.

2:19 AM, I-80 on-ramp from Antelope Rd - It is declared that the punishment for question asking is getting left and repicked up wherever you're dropped as we come back. We stop to try to obtain my cousin, who was terrified of us knocking on his window, then we attempt to pick up a girl from work Moose is into - she proves over the phone that she'll buzzkill the whole thing. She gets left, with the post-hangup quote "Her input is irrelevant, my toad has a boner".

2:40 AM, I-80, Somewhere north of Auburn - Tirius declares he has malaria, and makes a feeble attempt at sleep. Failing this within seconds, he declares he'll stay up 24 hours. I've been up 17 at this point, Moose almost matches me. Tirius looks crestfallen with 19 more hours awake to achieve his goal.

2:52 AM - The radio hates us. Nothing good is on, and the transmitter is in the trunk, so we can't hook up our music. We turn the radio off.

3:18 AM, Nyack, CA - We get out of the car, get more energy drinks, and goggles, that's right GOGGLES. Moose, to commemorate the randomness of this trip, buys coffee for a guy waiting for his ride to New York, without ever having said hello. Random act of kindness, more for it's randomness than it's kindness. The transmitter is forgotten, the radio gets another chance - we flick it to classic rock, and everything good starts playing.

3:37 AM, North of the 80-20 junction - Tirius asks if we can make a pit stop, Moose threatens to rape Tirius. Not so much for anything but to show him how serious this is. Tirius' girlfriend begins texting me, promising me that I'll bring him home safe - he's a year older than me, and perfectly capable of taking care of himself; if he dies, it's not to be regretted today.

4:06 AM, Florestin, CA(?) - Tirius demands we stop and stargaze, Moose counters with us moving and stargazing, I scream that maybe roadgazing is best for the person driving, as we almost hit a divide. Can't regret if you're dead, I think. Meh. This is too fun to end now, though.

4:10 AM, 5 miles further on - The road is 6 feet across, with high walls on either side and big rigs in front and back, very insistent on moving at their pace. We acquiesce to their demands, while listening to "You can't always get what you want". So appropriate. I'm fairly relaxed after the ordeal, though the new messages from Tirius' scared girlfriend aren't helping (she's reading the blog as it goes up, and he doesn't have a phone).

4:23 AM, Reno, NV - There's an overpass, with a Walgreens built in the middle of it, in what we can imagine was a finger flipped to the idea that stores on bridges are a bad idea. Tirius gawks in amazement and says we ought to go, Moose expresses his interest in obtaining a hedgehog, I whip out my phone and look up pet stores; it seems this consitutes planning, and we leave Reno forthwith. It's tainted with planning.

4:27 AM, Sparks, NV - "Thunderstruck" comes on, it's oddly appropriate considering we were all expecting to be in bed by now, and are a few miles into Nevada. After the song ends (and another awesome bit of classic rock comes on, as the gods of rock were with us,) Tirius and Moose both admit to never having been to Nevada. This is my 3rd time in the past year. God knows how many times in my life. I hate the state - it's so much empty.

4:42 AM, A "town" in NV - Tirius is watching the scenery around us load and render a la World of Warcraft, Moose is seeing tiny yellow flecks flying at and past the car. I see neither of these occurrences. Moose discloses his joy at having us along, as it increases the chances he'll come back alive from it. Tirius says something to piss him off. I stare off into the distance.

5:31 AM, Rest stop 22 miles from Lovelock, NV - We all disembark and use the facilities, I return first, grab the transmitter and get comedy going on the radio, Tirius and Moose grab lighter fluid and a marshmallow, exploring their mutual love of fire and things on fire. I am not amused, but in the spirit of it all, I let it happen.

6:01 AM, Lovelock, NV - We leave, with the barest of welcome left. Moose tried his card three times, each time declining, then finally whips out a $100 bill to pay for $11.50 in gas. The lady was less than pleased at this chain of events. Wyoming (where I'd dashed to madly last August to save a friend who got fishtailed by a big-rig) is brought up as a possibility for a trip extension; their fireworks are bigger, better, and slightly more awesome. Me: "You know, [Moose], Wyoming doesn't have laws against fireworks of any sort, just the federal ones. It's not me requesting we go, just a point of fact.", Moose: "... You bastard. How much further?". A call to my little sister yields that its double the distance. Moose seems apprehensive.

6:45 AM, Mill "City", NV - This is not a city. It's not even a town. I'd barely call ti a village, and that's only for the fact it has 2 permanent buildings (combo casino/gas station, and combo casino/motel) and 2 trailers (one with beds, the other a 'truckers chapel'). It's more like... A gas station with a motel. Damnit. Food isn't sold for 15 more minutes, Moose wants to go, Tirius is stealing cigarette butts from around the building, due to his lack of having smoked anything since before we left. I try to sleep, to little avail, as the thought of Mill City being a city angers me. As we leave, it's given another name that I didn't care to document, but then is called Mill City again. AUGH.

7:29AM, NV desert (I-80) - We pass a single yellow tent in the underbrush to our right. I decides it's either gypsies or mongols. We see a nearby sign that says "Chain up area", which is quickly deciphered as an anagram for "China are a pu", and the owners of the tent must be Mongolian (we know their hatred of China). Ralph won't stop bringing it up. He's threatened with being left to find out himself while we forge on.

8:06AM BATTLE MOUNTAIN, NV - Through all doubt, whining and bitching, I navigated us to Battle Mountain and the fireworks without more than a few very minor hitches. I. Got. This. We eat at McDonalds, staring out the window at our nearby destination of "Roller Coaster Fireworks". While Moose is getting his soda, the syrup on the machine runs out. They refuse to replace it. He whips out a sharpie, and writes on their table "PUT IN MORE DR.PEPPER!". We leave.

9:27AM - We walk out with $140 of Moose's money spent on fireworks (he dragged us along, he pays), and a big box of things our mothers would be appalled to find out we have - things that have never been legal in California, and things I wasn't sure were legal anywhere. We spent the better part of an hour and a half looking around and gawking at the store. It was magnificent. Downright beautiful. Every type of firework ever, and the owner knew everything about them. He had some rare "illegal to make" concussion-triggered firecrackers, which he let Tirius throw. Epic. I have many pics.

?:??AM - Between Battle Mtn and Winemucca - We met two guys with a dome on top of their van, they were cool. Racked up a bunch of out-of-state license plates (non-CA/NV), and generally just relaxed. Mission accomplished, everything else is side-quests from here.

11:25AM - We pull away from the cops. They pulled us over for being 7 mph over the limit (our speedometer read nothing of the sort, but ok, they're the cops), decided that our story of what we were doing and why we were doing it was preposterous (we shared it with them out of amusement), even after we showed them our booty of explosive goodness, and scared Moose into consenting to a car search with the K-9 unit. Apparently in NV, college students taking off on a Saturday night, the day after school gets out for the summer, is considered criminal pathology congruent with that of drug traffickers. They deign to explain this until after they find nothing but magic cards, my SF0 binder, a whole buttload of snack food, and my survival knife tucked in a backpack. They give me shit about stepping out of line when I asked questions, and how just having the "dagger" is a gross misdemeanor; I explain carefully that I appreciate human rights and don't like being pushed around by cops, and that my knife isn't illegal in California, except as a concealed weapon (citing relevant precedent and penal codes). They can't explain exactly the statutes covering why my knife is illegal in Nevada, except to point out that any weapon in the cockpit of a car is illegal, because what if it was a shotgun... AAAAUUUUGH! IT'S A DAMN KNIFE. IN A BACKPACK. I relent, apologize (to stop wasting time) and we get on our way. Considering what my courses of action should be still...

4:00PM - We've parked and slept a few hours, and are now awake. I'm still angry at the cops for giving me shit for trying to establish a few things before they go accusing us of being drug-lords. I'm angry at Moose for intentionally getting us pulled over (apparently, he's been wanting it to happen the whole time). Food seems like a good idea. We go to the local Arby's and get sandwiches, I plug my phone in and am inundated with Facebook relays about people going batshit about our trip. I ignore them and eat my delicious pile of meat and sauce. We get on the road again (4:15PM) and I see a sign giving us the number of miles to Sacramento (and thus Citrus Heights), and quickly calculate that we're about 2h 45m out. Moose says he can make it in 2 hours. The bet is placed, with a wager of 2 weeks James Bond Status for the winner (it's hard to explain).

5:27PM, Nyack, CA - We're in California again. I know the laws here. I can stand the people. It's good. Slowly shaking off the anger from the cop thing, as I don't want to ruin the fun. Tirius is asleep. We stop the clock on Moose's 2 hours, and he goes in for drinks, gets gas, and we hit the road again in 15 minutes even. His time to beat is 6:30PM.

6:27PM, Fry's in Roseville, CA (designated finish line) - We make it. Moose gets it by a mere 2m 30s, but still wins. It's his. I'm proud of him. Went 75 - 90 mph the whole way to get there in time, and we were alive. Tirius is still asleep. We decide to go set off fireworks in random places. It's jovial, until they start lighting off the blatantly illegal ones. I curtail the insanity, deeming the trip over, so I can be a bit buzzkilly. We retire for the evening.

Conclusion: I've determined there are 2 types of cop: the authority-obsessed, power-hungry pricks who love to see people abase themselves, either because they feel superior, or because they just like having power, and the ones who want to protect people and uphold the spirit of the law. We ran into the former. I dislike that type. The trip was great fun, constantly high-energy and randomness, by no means all of which I got to document or record, and I'm sure in the following days, I'll have more to add/correct, but it was nothing short of one of my most amazing weekends ever. I don't think I'll let the cop thing bother me. Screw'em. The lack of sanity, sleep or sustenance, except at very random times was disconcerting and even now my body is going crazy. Do I regret it? NO. I loved it. I did miss the girls from our team, a lot, and I'm deeply sorry I didn't hang out with them today... Hopefully they forgive me, I needed random. :)

posted by Professor Møbius on June 26th, 2010 8:36 AM

Stanford second-year philosophy final (2008): A one page booklet with the question "Prove that this chair doesn't exist."

Only answer that didn't fail: "What chair?"

posted by Professor Møbius on June 27th, 2010 3:29 AM

Your "Sleep Around", within "While True:" was pretty awesome, but a purely pure Lvl 0 is fun .

I'll look around. Know any long-distance-able collab-tasks? Sutro Tower? lol.

posted by Professor Møbius on June 25th, 2010 9:29 PM

I believe we previously established in a task that required one to stalk a "consenting player" that by advent of playing the game a player consents. Also, concur on 'want'.

posted by Professor Møbius on July 5th, 2010 11:30 AM

You're going to rivalry with me? ME!? DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM!?!

I will drop you like everything that's ever fallen on people during the Final Destination movies. Like NBC and FOX drop decent TV-shows. Like Obama dropped the "Return to the Moon" program.

Srsly. Not the best idea. :P

posted by Professor Møbius on June 15th, 2010 10:25 PM

I understand. To be honest, I was reluctant to post without knowing the results, but it seemed efficient to get the thing documented and up, then update later; may do my own later and leave this one to Emelia, as it was more hers than mine.

The naked camera was amazing, might I add.

posted by Professor Møbius on June 21st, 2010 1:38 PM

LOL. I could talk them into it, probably. Sorry to everyone if that was too long of a documentation; it was kind of weird turning it in that way, and not in a proper praxis...

posted by Professor Møbius on June 28th, 2010 11:06 PM

Sorry, but Mr. Scuffles is kind of epic, and cryogenically frozen olives ought to have their money taken. Stupid olives.

posted by Professor Møbius on June 16th, 2010 1:01 PM

Thank you graciously. :) We did the math, then added a couple extra, just to make sure it got there. None of the signs we found prohibited sending ANY liquids, just flammable/explosive/corrosive/oxydizing/etc, so hopefully it'll make it.

posted by Professor Møbius on January 9th, 2011 10:42 AM

Isn't tier 1 gorgeous? I can't bring myself to be mean or rude to them because I know how many flaming bags of jackass they see in a day; and god forbid I may be doing it again.

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