I see now where I went wrong

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malted milk

oh jeez I should pay more attention when ordering

Ah, THAT’s the problem!

No, really, the problem is I have no budget for anything fun lately. I’d better be paid by next Monday, because that’s Packing Up and Moving Into Storage Day, not yet a national holiday, and I am going to need to pay some bills by then, for srs. There’s no point in having all the funds in the world “in invoices” because as far as I know truck rental companies won’t take invoices in lieu of cash.

Nor will liquor stores, and I am going to CLEAR ONE OUT on the evening of the 25th, believe me.

DramaSec, weekend edition

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Ever tried to do a simple tarot reading and keep having it come out weird? Yeah, so like that.

ninja raincoaster card

ninja raincoaster card

ron ninja card

But not to be mistaken for news that Ron IS a ninja

Ron is not a Ninja. Ron is, apparently, Asher Wolf. You may wish to get a piece of paper and pen to diagram out this particular post. As always, it gets confusing when the Lamo card is played.

ninja lamo card

lamo may or may not be a ninja, but he is clearly a Discordian

Sorry, Asher, you haven’t got a Ninja Trading Card yet like Ron and Lamo and Me.

First on Friday our old pal Ron goes apeshit on me, gloating about getting my articles edited after the fact (I have to find this out from Ron boasting on Twitter about getting the Daily Dot to eat crow? Imagine my joy). Then on Saturday, internet privacy activist and Cryptoparty founder Asher Wolf decides that doxing Barrett Brown‘s ex-girlfriend is a moral imperative. Why? Because, since Asher can’t find any record of her online prior to 2011, she must be a Fed plant.

Let’s review that: because someone leaves no tracks online, a leading internet privacy activist decides she is ipso facto an FBI plant.

As part of the pointless #DramaSec (my coinage, thank you, and you may Paypal me five bucks every time you use it if you wish. And why not? Times are tough chez raincoaster lately), Asher publicized a Pastebin someone had made of a Facebook thread in which BB’s ex and her friends, including me, basically went “what the actual fuck, Asher?” It’s not rocket science; nor is it spywork. It is ludicrous, my friends.

This of course inspired my own Facebook thread, which is reproduced here for fans of pointless, internecine internet drama. Once again, I find myself saying:

Eyes on the prize, people. Is this making the world a better place?

Continue reading →

Panorama Palace

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So, here’s the new place. Yeah, it’ll be a bit of a change from the Downtown Eastside. Thanks to Madame Metro for the photos of the place upon which I, myself, have not yet laid eyes.

KVR trail

KVR trail

This is the trail that goes directly from the cabin to downtown and beyond, the Kettle Valley Railway trail.

Panorama Palace 1

Panorama Palace 1

The palatial gateway. Vineyards on the left, horses on the right.

Panorama Palace 2

Panorama Palace 2

Panorama. Lake to the left. And also to the right. Panorama Palace just off to the right of the centre line.  So, yeah, bit of a change from this.

DTES

DTES

Buried Treasures

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Oooh, is that my DVD player?

Oooh, is that my DVD player?

T’is no surprise to regular readers of the ol’ raincoaster blog that we have piratical instincts at Operation Global Media Domination HQ, formerly Mildew Manor, soon to be TK. So it should be no surprise that as we slowly pack up for The Grand Migration, we are finding buried treasures of all sorts.

Remember that post where I said that the burglars had stolen my late mother’s jewelry box and my great-great-uncle’s silver?

Yeah, not so much.

Shahee must have stowed them safely away in one of his cleaning frenzies while I was out of town, because I found them in the storeroom on the very tip top of a bunch of shelves. God only knows how I’ll get them down now that the construction guys have stolen my ladder (and, incidentally, thrown out my Starbucks table; still, it’s worth it to me just to get the deck cleared off, and I DID catch them before they threw out my $500 bike and my slab of Carrara marble) but we’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.

Today I snagged about two dozen sturdy new boxes thanks to a friend who has just moved herself, so tomorrow is packing day. I had arranged for Robert to come over and help me with the heavy stuff, but now I’ll defer that to next week once all the shelves are emptied and he can help me chuck out the old particleboard bookcases. I’m sure I can build something better quality and cheaper than moving the lot of this water-logged crap. I’m not taking anything that’s broken or waterlogged, and the only shelves I’m taking are solid wood.

Also, there are great benefits to having friends who are cheap, as they are relentless at finding me bargains. Bargains? Try a truck rental for a buck plus mileage and storage at $35 a month, that’s how much of a bargain. I may be able to afford this move after all!

Ruralopolis, Here I Come!

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Ruralopolis

Ruralopolis

Well, I think that’s it. I’ve got The Place.

This is the view from The Place, roughly.

The Place is 14 acres of vineyards and horse paddocks on a major scenic trail, a ten minute drive from downtown. It is a one bedroom cabin with a full basement and about 25% more space than I have in Vancouver, for exactly the same cost. Every horse owner I can entice to board his/her horse on the property lowers my rent by the amount the board brings in. If I feed and muck out, that amount is doubled.

Since I got fat, I’ve been looking for low-impact ways to get some physical work in, given that my career involves sitting on my ass typing, and since I was a groom in a hunt stable right out of school and have been pining to get back into the horse world for years, this seems ideal.

So the plan is to move my stuff into storage on Feb 25, either here or (more likely) up in Ruralopolis where it’s cheaper, and then when I get to move in, on April 1 (no joke) bung the lot in and sort it out later, acquiring or building more bookshelves as may be.

Maybe I should tell The Sister I’m moving out of Vancouver, after 32 years ( HOLY FUCK I AM OLD) but I don’t want to shock her.