Time to Update the Ol’ LARP Résumé

Eric poured the first of his new bottle of Jägermeister into a glass tumbler, making sure not to spill any drops of the precious thick brown liqueur.

He was warm all over from drinking the last bottle and sweat formed like dew over the numerous crap lines in his forehead. He threw back the shot, slammed his glass down, and brushed a swatch of greasy orange hair out of his eyes.

"Time to get back to work," he said to no one in particular.

Eric's wife was out of town on business, something that was happening more and more often lately, and he had been left to his own devices.

After getting kicked out of Barnes & Noble by the management when they caught him wandering up to strangers and offering to sign copies of The Cathedral and the Bazaar, he attended the Chester County Library Steering Committee but had to leave early from there too after he fell asleep and began to snore loudly during new business.

It must have been that bottle of Jäger on the way there, Eric thought as he drove home. And that had been Eric's afternoon.

Back home and at a loose end with a new bottle of Jäger, Eric decided it was time to update the 'ol LARP résumé. He sat down at his new home workstation, a rare 300 MHz Pentium MMX system with 512 MiB of memory named hardball, opened a terminal and typed nano $HOME/catb.org/html/larp.html, and began.

First, he had a couple of new roles to add to his already impressive list. He focused his eyes and read the last couple of characters over.

Percy Bullock (adept of the Golden Dawn) in Golden Aeon
Egil Skallagrimsson (viking badass) in Drink Deep and Drink Deeper.
Lucien Volare (revolutionary agitator) in Torch of Freedom
Cracking his knuckles and stretching his neck, Eric turned toward his mechanical keyboard.

Eric's keyboard was something special. First, none of the keys—not a single one—had any of the characters printed on them anymore save for a few white flecks here and there. Eric had worn them away in the last thirty years of typing with unwashed, greasy fingers.

There was also a film of crumbs, dead skin, finger grease, and Jäger congealed between the keys that looked like bile and smelled like a grease-trap in a condemned Chinese restaurant that permeated the air whenever he typed. Miraculously, the thing still clacked like it was 1982, and so Eric never saw a reason to clean it.

Eric was having a hard time finding a DIN-to-USB adapter and so was stuck with PS/2, which was one reason he was loathe to ever upgrade his system. At one point he'd tried to "hack" a newer motherboard to support DIN, but ended up spilling melted flux all over it, burning his hands in the process.

Eric fingered this beast's keys and began adding his latest triumphs to the list.

Dildor Cockshadow (bisexual priest) in One if by Man
Vas Deferens (badass privateer) in Escape from Planet Prepuce
After another perilous moment of swapping, Eric's changes were saved and his hard drive quieted. Eric then scrolled down, Firefox swallowing memory like Linux developers in a men's room, until he reached the Skills and Interests Relevant to Live-Action Gaming section.

Spot-checking "I have an extensive knowledge base in the sciences and history," "I have good public-speaking skills and can hold an audience," and "I am an expert computer programmer and Internet technologist," Eric smiled. He squinted and began typing again.

I am the leader of hackers worldwide and spearhead the Open Source movement.

Eric hit ^O and leered in satisfaction as his machine once again lurched out of /swap in a heroic effort to write his changes. His LARP résumé would be better than ever.

To celebrate, Eric swung around in his chair and grabbed the fresh bottle of Jägermeister, anxious to dive deeper into 70-proof stupor.

He paused, however, and decided to add a just a little more for good measure. Eric tickled the keyboard, smiling at the joy of talking about himself.

I am a core Linux developer.

Eric rubbed his bulbous gut through his faded OSCON '01 t-shirt as he ftp'ed into catb.org and uploaded the changes. While he was waiting for the transfer to complete he stuck his hand into his pants and took a slug from his freshly-opened bottle of Jäger.

Life is good, thought Eric. Life is good.

jewtiful story

moar

When I think of dirty old men, I think of ESR and when I think about ESR I get a hard on that won't quit.

Sixty years ago,I worked in what was once my Grandfather's Computer Science laboratory. Gramps had died a year earlier and Grandma, now in her seventies had been forced to sell to the competition. I got a job with the new owners and mostly worked the range by myself. That summer, they hired a man to help me get the benches ready for the fall planting.

ESR always looked like he was three days from a shave and his whiskers were dirty white under the brim of his battered felt fedora.

He did nott chew tobacco but the corners of his mouth turned down in a way that, at any moment, I expected a trickle of thin, brown juice to creep down his chin. His bushy, brown eyebrows shaded pale, gray eyes.

Old ESR, he extended his hand, lifted his leg like a dog about to mark a bush and let go the loudest fart I ever heard. The old man winked at me. ESR is the name and playing pecker's my game.

I thought he said, "Checkers." I was nineteen, green as grass. I said, "I was never much good at that game."

"Now me," said ESR, "I just love jumping men. . ."

"I'll bet you do."

". . . and grabbing on to their peckers," said ESR.

"I though we were talking about. . ."

"You like jumping old men's peckers?"

I shook my head.

I was actually hoping that this thread would break the front page like http://dis.4chan.org/read/prog/1268296414/1 did. Why didn't this work?

http://encyclopediadramatica.com/File:Ericraymond_kiss.jpg

>>5
Because the bug was fixed, genius.