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Blog Comments posted by jrok
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To be honest, Obama's citizenship status is just the foothill of the mountain.
I am an Obama campaign contributor... let me explain. I contributed $10 to the campaign, but I did not open my wallet for any political reason. I did it because I was curious about a very disturbing word on the steet about the nature of the campaign fundraising apparatus. The ugly fact is that Obama's webroots funding was operated without even the most basic form of credit-card verification. The campaign failed to employ the most elementary forms of ccv,to the extent that any name could be supplied with any validated card. When I say "failed to employ" I mean "actively avoided", since even credit card sales for coffee cups bearing the president's likeness employed this eponymous security measure.
I entered my name as Alexander Hamilton, in honor of my numerical contribution. It was, of course, promptly pocketed. Alex would likely be as worried as I am.
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As for Mr. Maus - I know everyone has said it a million times, already, but you have actually released completed games. He has released the same number of games as me and just about every other homebrew programmer on this website - ZERO.
Add to that the fact that your so-called "crappy" game happens to keep appearing on the weekly "Most Played" Atari Games list (alongside other "crappy" games like "Adventure")... well it seems to me that you should be giving us advice about game design, not the other way around.
Cheers,
Jarod.

Orwellian Dining
in (Insert stupid Blog name here)
A blog by Nathan Strum
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I worked as a Fry Cook for the Old Country Buffet for a brief stretch of my misspent youth. I don't recall any specific propaganda graphics at that location, although to be fair that was well over two million years ago and my memory might be a little flickery.
One thing I do recall with unfortunate clarity is the giant biomechanical nightmare that I would feed the fried chicken parts and gizzards into. It looked like a cross between R2-D2 and an industrial washing machine, and I would have to break the thing down into about roughly 487 parts every night to clean it, then reassemble it before I went home. I felt very much like a laborer in some science-fiction dystopia, lovingly cleaning and re-assembling my robotic chicken torture-machine. I also remember that the Sunday church rush sucked bad, and I spend most of it hauling giant cold garbage bags full of gizzards back and forth to the machine.