So I Just Watched...

Gone With The Wind.

And, despite all the accolades and praises this movie has gotten, the only thing I can bring myself to say about it is that...well, it starts off dreadfully BORING. Don't get me wrong, business picks up after the first hour or so, but it starts off so slowly that I almost fell asleep. And I know a lot of fans of this movie will be very displeased with this comment and will likely be attempting to argue with me about how the first part of it is anything but dull, and this is what I have to say to them:

Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn.

I Like This Build

As many of you have already come to realize, I like the Magic color black a little bit too much for my own good. I'm also the type to lean more into an aggressive, quick strategy than one that revolves more around how two cards interact or on playing defense until very late in the game. In short, I prefer aggro over control or combo. Not just any type of aggro, though. I like my aggro fast and able to deliver a lot of pressure quickly and reliably. With that in mind, I set about to build a type of deck that has, sadly, faded from the face of the Magic competitive scene: black weenie.

The archetype has been around since the beginning, with cards like Black Knight and Dark Ritual. However, it slowly faded out or was adapted into other forms because small black creatures didn't have the same quality that white, green, or red did. Blue is an entirely different matter, but only recently has mono-blue weenie really been a viable alternative. Shows how different things are in the current environment, I suppose. Anyway. I know black weenie isn't the competitive monster archetype that it used to be, and that builds like Eva Green and Suicide Black are more modern evolutions of it, but I'm stubborn.

So anyway, my current build on MWS, which I have affectionately nicknamed Kotonoha Katsura:

Lands:
18 Swamp

Spells:
4 Thoughtseize
4 Duress
3 Cursed Scroll
4 Dark Ritual
3 Bonesplitter
2 Liliana Vess

Creatures:
4 Black Knight
4 Nantuko Shade
4 Hypnotic Specter
4 Dauthi Slayer
4 Mourning Thrull
2 Ashling the Extinguisher

It isn't the best deck in the world, but I've come to like this build a lot and I think it's a relatively solid weenie deck. I'd love to find a way to stick Hunted Horror into the deck, however. A 7/7 trample 2-drop is just too good to not include if I can find an easy way around the drawback without having to go into other colors.

This.

A serial killer who died more than a decade ago is the person who decapitated the 6-year-old son of "America's Most Wanted" host John Walsh in 1981, police in Florida said Tuesday. The announcement brought to a close a case that has vexed the Walsh family for more than two decades, launched the television show about the nation's most notorious criminals and inspired changes in how authorities search for missing children.

This made me smile. John Walsh and his family deserve this closure.

You're Beneath Me

Call center agents, for what it's worth, are generally decent, hard-working, honest people. I should know, I've worked with many of them and have been one myself. However, I learned a while ago that each call center breeds a different type of agent. Hell, even separate accounts within a single company can breed drastically different types of agents. Completely different animals, as it were. And 'animals' is a very, very appropriate term for the breed that works where I am.

We've already firmly established these people are complete slobs. They're also lying slobs, frequently blaming their messes on the dayshift IT people. Even with photographic evidence and eyewitness testimonial from IT and tech support people, they still have the gall and the audacity to pin the blame on us.

But let's not dwell on that flaw when we can discuss their apparent "air of superiority," not to mention their over-possessiveness of their stations. Or their lack of a sense of time.

You see, the typical call center agent in Ascend Asia's other division (not the one that is currently relocated; they seem like decent enough people) are a bunch of...well, animals. They have this tendency to act like they own the computers they're using for work and treat their stations as such. Sure, it's fine to personalize their stations a little, but don't you think it can be a bit much when you're actually claiming literal ownership? Especially since the real owners saw fit to let the IT people use those computers during the day?

News flash: These are not your personal property, folks. You're not even paying rent on them. You're just being allowed to use them to accomplish your tasks for work. The company didn't give them to you, and it is theirs to do with as they please. And it pleases them to let us use them until the computers taken by the NBI are returned or replaced appropriately. Deal with it.

Here's another bit of information you may want to get through to your thick skulls: when your shift is over and there's no mandatory meeting or anything, you're supposed to get the fuck out of the office. Isn't it common courtesy, common decency to leave when you know that the people next in line for using those computers are there, waiting, and are already starting their work at least half an hour late because you refuse to leave ON. FUCKING. TIME?

The fact is, we've already had our shift moved down an hour - with all the serious effects that has on commute time and sleep schedules - and we're still starting our work later than we should. All because these agents can't get it through their thick skulls that, Hello, you're not alone anymore and you have to act like decent human beings for once in your miserable lives. More on this at a later date.

No, you don't get any right to complain when we do about your sloppy habits, your dirty computers, and your lack of common courtesy when leaving. You don't get to act like you own the place and tell us we have no right to ask you to go. You don't even have any right to tell us off when we make you get the fuck out. Your shift is over and other people need those PCs, so act like the mature human beings you're supposed to be and leave, dipshits.

So here's a message from me and the other disgruntled members of the IT department, and I'll say it in Filipino, so the agent's simple minds can actually process it without having to strain themselves in the process:

"Wag kang aangas-angas. Agent ka lang."






* This post has been brought to you by the IT division (SEO, Voice Logs, Writers, Web Design, etc.).

It's That Time Of Year Again

No, not the ridiculously overblown Christmas season. The day after my birthday. I feel old. Positively ancient.

Methinks The Agents Doth Protest Too Much...

For a few days now, we've been sharing space with the night shift agents of a different division of the company I'm in. There are a few policies and rules that are standard between our divisions. No bringing in personal items into the work floor, no bringing in food, and other things. Yet, almost the day after we started using their computers during the day, our night-time superiors were bombarded with complaints from the agents about us being "dirty," "messy," "sloppy," and generally messing with their things.

I think the agents protest too much, especially considering we're largely NOT GUILTY.

The agents, however, are.

Exhibit A:

Wrappers for a local salted nuts snack. Found under an agent's desk the moment I got into the office, right after they left. With no time for anyone from my division (IT) to have eaten it and put it there. Therefore, logic dictates that the agent did it.

Want to see what was on the agent's desk? Let me show you Exhibit B:

Well, what was on his desk? Junk. Lots of it. There was a book in there, and it looked not so worn. Probably doesn't get read very often. There were papers there, and a couple of chocolate wafer things. No wonder it was infested with ants.

But enough about someone else's desk. Let's take a look at the stuff on the one that was on mine. Now, the agent who used the computer I used was pretty clean, and did not seem like the type to have food or personal items. In fact, all the agent had was a plastic envelope of what may or may not be work-related documents. And straws from a fast food join.

Yes, straws.


But of course, there's one agent that takes the cake. He sits at one of the ends of the row of cubile-like desks we use. His desk looks relatively clean and orderly, until you take a closer look.

You see, his desk, his keyboard, and his Avaya-like thing is infested with ants. Infested.


And this agent I have a name for folks, as he proudly displayed it near his ant-infested desk.


So please, call center agents, before you go calling the dayshift IT people messy, why not take a look in the mirror and fix yourself first, hmm?

In Pursuit Of Perfect Black Aggro

As I was digging through my files the other day, I stumbled upon the folder named "Decks" under my Magic Workstation directory.

For the unaware, Magic Workstation is a piece of software that allows people to play Magic on the Internet without having to play via Wizards of the Coast's own system, Magic Online. Completely free, the updated database has all the expansions (up to the latest releases), and easy to use. The only real hassle is how damn long it takes to get all the art for the cards. But enough of that. I was digging through my files, found the folder for the decks I've made in it, and realized something.

I've made close to 50 of them.

And, for the most part, they're the kind of decks I'd make if I could afford to actually buy the cards. Or if I could find them. So hard finding older cards nowadays, with Wizards preferring to focus on promoting and supporting the "Standard" tournament environment, which includes only the latest of sets and the latest "core edition." This is "Type 2" for us older players, who were around and active prior to the ridiculously large number of expansions that came out - and the ridiculous amount of abilities, mechanics, keywords, rules changes, and whatnot that came with them. I also have a few people I play with online, and many of them are the type to experiment with different decks or themes. In other words, I am having fun with the game again.

And, fortunately, I actually have almost all the art. I'm just missing art for some promotional cards, but I have the ones I want. Oddly, I got into Magic because of the artwork on the cards. I left because there was nobody left to play with by the time I left for college. Now, though, both "concerns" have been answered.

I don't win a lot, but I have a decent ratio. And I get an odd sense of satisfaction when I make other players go "What the fuck?" after I do something utterly unconventional. With that in mind, I'm oddly focused on one particular build: black aggro, or sometimes known as suicide black.

Black has always been one of my favored colors. I don't know why, really, but it appeals to me. The color also gives me a wide range of options for the type of deck I have in mind, but making it all fit in a 60-card deck without sacrificing the chances of me drawing them is tough. I have a total of five variations on black aggro on MWS, and will likely end up building more in time. I'm just not fully satisfied with their speed, power, and even their raw offensive capacity.

Playing on the Internet has somehow re-invigorated my desire to upgrade my own real-life decks, as odd as that might sound. Maybe it's because I've been exposed to some good cards thanks to the software. Not sure.

I'll have to ponder that. Eventually.

But for now, I pursue the perfect blend of speed, power, and defense in my pursuit of the perfect black aggro deck.

A Short Piece

Dedicated to my mother, whom I have lived in constant terror of all my life.

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Helena looked at Alicia’s expression and, instantly, she realized something was woefully amiss.

There was a smile on her face. A genuine, bright smile.

The instant that the image had been processed and the realization took hold, she decided to figure out just what caused such a thing to occur. She looked around the surrounding area first, almost too eager to see if anything was…out of the ordinary. Nothing looked to be different or altered among the more visible fixtures of the room.

The small TV was where it was usually perched, across the room and largely untouched. Helena had only seen it in use a few times since Alicia moved into the condo unit they shared. It was largely left to occupy space or gather dust rather than be put to use.

The bed was a mess, with the sheets just barely being on it and the pillows in disarray. There were bits of brown smattered across the summer colors of the sheets, little chips of paint feeling from the floor and sticking to Alicia’s bare feet. The unused TV’s remote was there too, lying on the bed. In other words, nothing changed there either.

The laptop, which Alicia had named ‘Kaguya’ as soon as it was taken home, sat flat on the desk it usually occupied. It wasn’t on with a few programs running, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary or strange. Helena learned long ago that Alicia had a tendency to leave ‘Kaguya’ on if she had something to do that interrupted whatever it was she was up to on the laptop. Either that or she was downloading something. The fact that it was on despite not being used, therefore, was not at all strange.

It was then that she saw a strange new addition to the darkened room’s usual empty dreariness: another human being.

“Well, I’ll be going now,” the new person said as he turned for the door, towards Helena.

“Yeah,” Alicia said. The smile, Helena noted, had not faded. “Thanks for the good news.”

Once the door was closed, Helena let her curiosity get the better of her. “Excuse me,” she began, “who are you?”

He gave her a mildly annoyed look, and then sighed. “I’m her brother.”

“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

Again, he shot the annoyed look, but again he seemed to just accept her inquiry as inevitability. “Fine, go ahead.”

“Well, I’ve been living with her for about two years now, and I’ve never seen her so happy,” she said. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her happy.”

He paused for a moment, as if letting the answer roll around in his head. Then, with a look of what Helena believed was both apathy and resignation in his eyes, he spoke. “You know what life is like when, from a very young age, you learn that you’re terrified, absolutely mortified by the mere presence of someone that’s supposed to make you feel safe?”

Helena blinked, but didn’t respond.

“Alicia and I learned to put on masks, to pretend not to care, to just let things slide off our shoulders like dust. It wasn’t something we wanted to learn, but it sort of became a required skill for survival.”

He paused, as if what he said had stirred up something inside him.

“We couldn’t let our real personalities show, and I think, for her, the mask killed who she really was, could be,” he said as he looked at the closed door. “Her emotions came along for the ride. She learned to kill the real ones and cultivate the false ones, pruning and trimming, grooming them like a bonsai tree.”

Helena kept silent, still uncertain what to say.

“We learned to fake sincerity and became inordinately proficient at it, too. We’d display the appropriate emotions at the appropriate times, and we’d be absolutely convincing while doing it. All the while, we kept the only real emotion we felt hidden from everyone but us. Let it take root, you could say.”

“What…was it?”

“Terror.”

“I don’t understand. What does that have to do with my question?”

“What I told her was good news, and that made her smile. That’s the short answer of it.”

“What was the news, then?”

“Our mother is dead,” he said with a sincere smile. “Which means she can let herself feel emotions again.”

He turned and walked to the door again, but paused briefly before he left.

“She’s free at last.”

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