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27 Jul 14:29

NSI Totally Television 2016 teams announced

by Laura Friesen

NSI Totally Television 2016 / About NSI Totally Television

The National Screen Institute – Canada (NSI) congratulates the teams selected to the 2016 NSI Totally Television training course. These participants will have the opportunity to develop their television projects with the best showrunners and story editors in the country.

“2016 brings another diverse and promising group of projects and participants,” said Joy Loewen, interim NSI Totally Television program manager. “I look forward to starting work with these students and refining their ideas into market-ready series.”

The 2016 teams are:

  • A Detective Lives Here – Geordie Sabbagh (writer) and Ashleigh Rains (producer), Toronto, ON
  • Heirloom – Oliver Brackenbury (writer) and John-Paul Nynkowski (producer), Toronto, ON
  • Lucky Falls – Randy Sumeraj (writer) and John Griffith (producer), Toronto, ON
  • Old Biddies – Karen Nielsen (writer) and Christena Zatylny (producer), Vancouver, BC

This course provides hands-on series development training for producer/writer teams serious about getting their series concept made.

Each team is paired with execs from major networks, story editors and executive producers to help hone each concept and make it pitch perfect.

Past execs include Kerry Appleyard (Orphan Black, X Company), Christina Jennings (Murdoch Mysteries) and David Barlow (Cracked) and exec producers from Shaftesbury, Temple Street, Cameron Pictures, New Metric Media and Breakthrough.

NSI Totally Television training takes place over 10 months. The first phase begins in September with an intensive boot camp to work with program manager Joy Loewen and program advisor Julie Di Cresce along with key senior industry representatives.

After resubmitting their revised scripts, two of the four teams will move on to phase two of the program and attend the Banff World Media Festival in June 2017.

The program has produced 13 series that have gone into development: five have gone to air, one was piloted and another was produced as a feature film that had its world premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival.

NSI Totally Television 2015 was made possible by Presenting Sponsor Bell Media; Program Partner Telefilm Canada; Supporting Sponsors Entertainment OneSuper Channel, Corus Entertainment and Breakthrough Entertainment; Provincial Sponsor Manitoba Film & Music; and Industry Partner Academy of Canadian Cinema & Television. NSI Core Funders are Manitoba Sport, Culture and Heritage and the City of Winnipeg through the Winnipeg Arts Council.

About the National Screen Institute

Renowned for having given many emerging filmmakers, television writers and producers their first breaks, the National Screen Institute provides training and production support through courses like NSI Totally TelevisionNSI Drama PrizeNSI New VoicesNSI Features First, Movie Central Script to ScreenCorus Diverse TV DirectorNSI Aboriginal Documentary, TELUS STORYHIVE Web Series and Digital Shorts, and TELUS Optik™ Local.

NSI also offers exposure through the NSI Online Short Film Festival and provides vast resources and support to those in the film, television and digital media industries at

All media enquiries

Laura Friesen, Manager, Communications & Alumni Relations
Tel: 204.957.2999 or email:

22 Apr 14:48

Wire-Tapping the Ruins of Pompeii

by (Geoff Manaugh)
[Image: Alexander Graham Bell, inventor of the telephone, steps forth into the ruins of the "extinct city" of Pompeii; courtesy U.S. Library of Congress].

The ruins of Pompeii are being wired-up by a company otherwise known for its work as a manufacturer of military drones and "electronic warfare equipment," reports. Finmeccanica, the "Italian aerospace and defense giant," has been contracted to install a high-tech sensor network amongst the barely stabilized walls and streets of this city once buried by a volcanic eruption nearly 2,000 years ago, in the hopes of monitoring unstable ground conditions on the sites.

Slippage and instability threaten to bring some of the buildings down, not just putting the site's UNESCO-designated mansions at risk but potentially injuring (or worse) its annual hordes of international visitors.

[Image: General view of Pompeii and Mt. Vesuvius; courtesy U.S. Library of Congress].

In's words, the sensors are being installed "to assess 'risks of hydrogeological instability' at the sprawling site, boost security and test the solidity of structures, as well as set up an early warning system to flag up possible collapses."

The results are a bit like electronic eavesdropping—a kind of NSA of the ruins—only, instead of wire-tapping a single phone line, the entire city of Pompeii will be listened to from within, hooked up from one side to the other with equipment so sensitive it is normally used in waging "electronic warfare."

[Image: The Street of Tombs, Pompeii; courtesy U.S. Library of Congress].

The data will eventually be made available online for all to analyze, but it is interesting to read of a more immediate use of the sensors' findings: Pompeii's "security guards will be supplied with special radio equipment as well as smartphone apps to improve communication that can pinpoint their position and the type of intervention required."

In other words, guards will receive electronic updates from the city itself while out on their daily rounds, including automated pings and alerts of impending structural failure or deformations of the ground, like some weird, semi-militarized version of ambient music, as if listening to the real-time groans of a settling city by radio.

Wire-tapping the ruins of a dead city, this mesh of electronic equipment—normally used in military surveillance operations—will thus help to preserve the archaeological site for future generations.

[Image: Fortuna Street, Pompeii; courtesy U.S. Library of Congress].

Like something out of Douglas Kahn's recent book about the history of terrestrial electromagnetism and audio art, the old crumbling columns and shattered walls of Pompeii will soon find a new voice through repurposed military equipment, a weaponized seance performed on the empty streets of a place that's more tomb than city.

[Image: The Forum, Pompeii; courtesy U.S. Library of Congress].

The possibilities for interactive apps and other touristic experiences are also mind-boggling here: imagine, at the very least, being able to walk into the center of Pompeii totally alone, with nothing but your phone and some earbuds, tuning into real-time broadcasts of the shuddering masonry all around you, a wireless archaeological orchestra of bleached monuments in the sun, listening from within to the sounds of the ancient city.

Distant HAM radio enthusiasts, tuning in from attics in Indiana, spin the dial every Saturday night hoping to find Pompeii, a destroyed city on the other side of the world with its own location in the ether, whistling and purring as its architecture falls apart, room by room, a catacomb of sound and destruction.

(An earlier, different version of this post first appeared on Gizmodo).
03 Aug 01:53

Church of The Atom is a nano brewery from Gothenburg, Sweden.

Church of The Atom is a nano brewery from Gothenburg, Sweden.

11 Jul 00:47

Jaguar Project 7 Concept

06 Jul 20:38

"Son Oil" Baby Marinade (1979)

by (About me)
It has been some time since the mayor permitted us access to his collection of 1970s pharmaceutical postcards. Here's one for the summer:

The text on the reverse of the postcard:

"A child's skin is vulnerable and can easily burn, which could impair the flavour. To avoid damaging the skin first blanch the child for fives minutes then generously apply Son Oil. Add salt, pepper and newts to taste, then leave the child in the garden during the hottest part of the day. Whimpering usually means that the child is ready to be transferred to the grill or oven. Warning: Illegitimate or unbaptized children burn more quickly."
18 Apr 16:24


18 Apr 11:44

The Planetary Super-Surface of San Bernardino County

by (Geoff Manaugh)
A surprisingly interesting business article in the Los Angeles Times this past weekend pointed out that an "industrial real estate boom" is underway east of the city: "Nestled on the windy plains at the foot of the San Bernardino Mountains," we read, "once austere stretches of agricultural land have morphed into the country's most desirable industrial real estate market, and it is growing faster than any other industrial region in the U.S."

[Image: Construction work at a future warehouse in San Bernardino, courtesy of NBC Southern California].

What's at stake? Eager buyers are snapping up "vast warehouses—some are bigger than 30 football fields under one roof—where they can store, process and ship merchandise such as clothes, books and toys to ever more online shoppers and handle the rising flood of goods passing through the ports of Los Angeles and Long Beach."

It's a logistics rush "so intense" that "developers are erecting more than 16 million square feet of warehouses on speculation, meaning they are gambling that buyers or renters will rush forward to claim the buildings by the time they are complete."

As it happens, though, huge volumes of empty space framed by walls and ceilings are something of the ultimate testing ground for robot intelligence: "Once upon a time, a warehouse was where you stored things for weeks or months, such as toys and canned food that retailers would grab to restock their shelves. Sorting, organizing and moving the inventory was a constant challenge."

However, now, in this age of empty architectural airspace, "Tracking goods in the modern age of bar codes, scanners and computers is a comparative breeze. The location of every widget can be identified with pinpoint accuracy and fetched by robots that can lift and carry 3,000-pound loads with ease."

[Image: An unrelated warehouse photo from CCI Flooring].

I'm reminded of something novelist Zachary Mason said in an interview with BLDGBLOG three years ago. Mason, who has also worked in the field of artificial intelligence, pointed out the spatial problems faced by any truly emergent A.I.:
One of the problems with A.I. is that interacting with the world is really tough. Both sensing the world and manipulating it via robotics are very hard problems, and solved only for highly stripped-down special cases. Unmanned aerial vehicles, for instance, work well, because maneuvering in a big, empty, three-dimensional void is easy—your GPS tells you exactly where you are, and there's nothing to bump into except the odd migratory bird. Walking across across a desert, though, or, heaven help us, negotiating one's way through a room full of furniture in changing lighting conditions, is vastly more difficult.
The prospect of Artificial Intelligence finding its way into the world not by way of unmanned aerial vehicles flying in Mason's "big, empty, three-dimensional void" but, instead, in the vast and echoing elsewhere of speculative warehouse space built in the desert outside Los Angeles is an incredible, and even somewhat frightening, thing to contemplate.

However, I started this post actually hoping to point out one small thing mentioned merely in passing at the end of the L.A. Times article.

One of these warehouses, it turns out, is actually so huge it must be laser-leveled against the curvature of the earth.

[Image: A laser-leveling target used for calibrating car scales, taken by someone named "Butt Dyno," via an forum].

The building in question "has 32-foot ceilings and enough doors to load or unload 124 trucks at the same time," presenting insane combinatorial possibilities that would make the bridges of Königsberg blush; but, even more unbelievably, this "480,000-square-foot facility recently built for Quaker Oats Co. on land that used to be part of Norton Air Force Base in San Bernardino... is so long at 1,000 feet that contractors laying the concrete floor used lasers to gently follow the curve of the Earth and keep the floor level."

Of course, this means that you could also work in reverse, and thus deduce, from the precise leveling of the warehouse floor, the curvature of the planet it rests on, which, bizarrely enough, makes studying this building—an empty warehouse in the California desert—an unexpected subset of astronomical calculation.

Last week, for instance, we looked at various "benchmarks" that have been used for measuring the circumference of the Earth, but perhaps future generations will simply drive out to a cluster of warehouses somewhere on the fringes of Los Angeles—next century's Stonehenge, a new Solomon's Temple, or Superstudio meets Eratosthenes—ritually laser-level the floor on a hot summer afternoon, and thus deduce the limits of our world itself, all by way of the most "fundamental" of architectural interventions: the floor.

The logistical super-surface as planetary analogue.
17 Apr 19:04

What we talk about when we talk about Margaret Thatcher

by Laurie Penny
The left have been painted as tasteless, heartless people trying to make political capital out of Thatcher’s death. Only the government is allowed to do that, says Laurie Penny.

To celebrate the death of another human being is always abhorrent. Whether or not it is also appropriate is a question of context. On the night that Margaret Thatcher suffered a fatal stroke, hundreds of people gathered in Brixton for a death disco. Some of them drank champagne and some drank milk.

"Now that Thatcher's dead, we thought we'd start reversing her policies one by one - so we're starting with free milk handouts," said Sky, a student giving out quarter-pints of semi-skimmed from a shopping bag, who must have been born after Thatcher gained her "Milk Snatcher" moniker. "It's my parents' grudge, really," Sky admitted. "But looking at the world we're living in now, I understand that a lot of it evolved from her policies."
Nine days ago, Margaret Thatcher died in a suite at the Ritz and the country lost its wits. Her political legacy lives on and it's that legacy that is really being debated in the escalating frenzy around who gets control of the funeral narrative. This isn't about Thatcher. It never really was: not the parties, not the screeching pundits, not the ludicrous battle to get the song 'Ding Dong, The Witch is Dead. Actually, it's about us. It's about Britain and about the battle for control of the national narrative. Thatcher's death has become the occasion for a grand psychodrama of a vicious and divided nation.
Make no mistake: the funeral taking place today is a political statement. A ceremonial funeral of this kind, attended by the Queen, is a specific British state honour that has only been given to one other non-royal in recent history - Winston Churchill, who led a united war cabinet. Respect for the dead is one thing, but demanding acquiescence in the face of an enormous, costly political statement is quite another.
Britain has been waiting for this for a long, long time. The major news outlets and commentators on the left and right were so quick to publish pieces variously condemning, praising or condemning the praise of
Thatcher's legacy that you might almost suspect that they had these articles in stock and were just waiting to fill in the dates. You might even suspect that the reaction to Thatcher's death had been entirely pre-scripted.
It has all been choreographed for years, the tributes already written, the formalities in place. All of the responses were planned, as were the responses to those responses. I was told, before writing this piece, to keep my head down and say nothing inflammatory, because the right wing would certainly seize on anything that any prominent left-wing person said for their pre-scripted invectives against tasteless, heartless people trying to make political capital out of Thatcher's death. Only the government is allowed to do that.
While we're on the subject of tastelessness, some bright spark decided that Thatcher's funeral should have a "Falklands war theme". Yes, that Falklands war, the one that Warren Ellis succinctly called "the most shameless, vote-grabbing, artificial war scam in 50 years".
The hundreds of Argentinian sailors who died on Thatcher's orders as the Belgrano was retreating will not be represented, but there will be full military honours and a "ring of steel" in place to prevent "troublemakers" lifting a single placard. Thatcher will be buried as a war hero, just like Churchill was, even though the Falklands conflict was, in territorial and strategic terms, a mere blip on the radar of history. The war of which Thatcher was the hero was quite a different war, a war whose territory was hearts, minds and markets, a war waged against social democracy, labour rights and the idea of the commons. It is this war whose general is being buried today.
The Conservatives' attempt to enforce a national day of mourning for their former leader was announced so far in advance of the key event as to be macabre but at least half of the public aren't buying it. The latest ComRes poll shows that over 60 per cent of the British public believe that the funeral should not be paid for out of state funds. That, however, is part of the point. We're not meant to like it. We're meant to accept it. That's what a victory parade is form and this funeral is a victory parade, a political statement paid for at public expense with military guns blazing and the Iron Lady's corpse right up there in front of the band.
The London Evening Standard reports that "Blanket stop-and-search powers are expected to be introduced . . . with officers using powers of pre-emptive arrest to target known troublemakers." In this case, "troublemakers" includes anyone who dares to raise their voice or a banner without prior permission. Dawn raids are planned on locations where suspected protesters might be sleeping on the day of the funeral, just as they were on the day of the royal wedding in 2011, when squats and anarchist centres across the city were invaded by cops with cuffs and batons. Surveillance, pre-arrests and police brutality: that's the order of the day in post-Thatcherite Britain.
At the Brixton death party, the usual angry radicals were joined by older people with tired smiles and sensible overcoats, young punks and activists handing out beer and their parents' grudges, and local kids and drunks who saw a gathering and just turned up. The local MP, Chuka Umunna, tweeted
that those who gathered to tramp down the dirt had nothing to do with the area but even he didn't sound convinced. Brixton rioted several times during Thatcher's reign and was one of the impoverished urban areas that her government was talking about when it advocated a policy of "managed decline". Translation: leave them to rot. This was the same government that placed the cold logic of personal greed at the heart of our national conscience, with the infamous mantra: "There's no such thing as
society. There are only individuals and their families." 
Now that Britain as a whole is in a state of mismanaged decline, most people here no longer talk openly about class. We talk, instead, about whether or not we hated Margaret Thatcher and wished her dead. That hasn't just been going on for a week but for 30 years, since Thatcher vanquished the industrial working class in the 1980s. Make no mistake: Thatcher-hatred isn't confined to the intermittently organised left. It's a folk memory thing, a tribal thing, passed down from parents to children in places where jobs in mines and steelworks and factories used to be passed down instead. The chant at the Brixton party lacked subtlety, but it at least got to the point:
 "Maggie, Maggie, Maggie! Dead, dead, dead!"
You will understand a lot more about Britain when you understand that across the country, perfectly normal families - families in Norwich and Newcastle and the Rhondda Valley, who eat cornflakes in the morning and go, in their unfussy British way, to church - have had money and booze put aside for decades for a party on the occasion of the death of one frail, old lady. This particular frail, old lady, of course, happened to be the figurehead and instigator of an aggressive neoliberalism that destroyed
their communities, ruined lives and drove millions into poverty and despair, as well as making a few people very rich indeed. The right-wing tabloids rushed to the street party in Brixton, as well as to Glasgow and Bristol, to fill in the blanks on the "despicable leftists" pieces they'd had on file for years. But those weren't the only celebrations going on.
In private homes and tiny, former-industrial towns where the press never goes unless there's been a murder, the pubs were full. Bed sheets with "The witch is dead" hastily scrawled on them were hung from windows.
"This isn't a celebration. It's catharsis," said the author Rhian Jones, who grew up in Thatcherism's Ground Zero - Tredegar, Wales, in the middle of the miners' strike that was the battlefield on which Thatcher took on organised labour and won, crushing the unions and the spirit of the British working class in one manicured fist. "We've heard a lot about Thatcher's legacy for the children who grew up in the 1980s," said Jones. "Part of her legacy to me was a family and a community who were completely devastated and are still trying to recover from that devastation."
By 9pm in Brixton, most of the cameras that gathered to take pictures of the left in its predicted grotesquery had vanished and everyone was hammered. At least two speaker systems ground out a bass-heavy mix of reggae and retro punk as kids who were born after Thatcher left office whooped and hollered and a banner reading "The bitch is dead" dropped from the roof of the Ritzy. This victory was always going to be a pyrrhic one and the people here were determined to warm their faces by the fire as it died. A solitary trombone played low and mournfully over the grinding reggae.
And still the party swelled. They had come to Brixton from Durham and Belfast and every wasted inner-city and former industrial town where today's young adults grew up being told that, whatever else they were doing, they would bloody well have a shindig when Maggie died. There were also a few confused foreigners trying to get into the spirit of Thatcher-hate, rather as one might try milky tea and Marmite: you might enjoy it but you'll never really understand it, unless you're from Argentina. The Ritzy Cinema across the road was advertising an Argentine film festival but, as the night continued, the decision was taken that this was too subtle. Kids in hoods leaped on to the awning, removed the letters advertising that day's showing and rearranged them into the words: "MARGRET THATCHERS DEAD".
There was an enormous cheer. There was also some consternation. Other hooded figures climbed up and fixed the spelling, so that it read: "MARGARET THATCHERS DEAD". The hoods and masks might have been a little excessive but, on the other hand, one never really knows any more what is and is not illegal when it comes to the merest squeak of indecorous behaviour on the streets of London.
After some more discussion, this became: "MARGARET THATCHERS DEAD. LOL". And then, five minutes later: "MARGARET THATCHERS DEAD, COMMUNISM IS THE KEY". There followed a pause for sectarian debate up on the ledge, while the police officers in attendance stared up, confused, and the wording changed again, this time to: "EQUALITY IS THE KEY". The argument heated up, aided by some chanting and booing by more radicalised sections of the crowd below, and eventually a compromise was reached. "MARGARET THATCHERS DEAD - COMMUNITEY [sic] IS THE KEY".
Some things don't change in this country and one of them is the way the far left chooses the opportune moment to make itself look like a Monty Python sketch.
Celebrating Thatcher's death in this way is not tasteless. It is in bad taste, which is something quite different, and deliberately so. The taste it leaves in the mouth is bitter; it's the taste of history repeating like bile from a bad meal in the back of the throat.
"I'm not here to celebrate the death of an old woman," said Seaneen Molloy, 27. "I'm here to be around people who hate Thatcherism and everything it stands for. Thatcherism is alive and kicking in Britain today."
And it's not as if there's much else to celebrate right now. "Everyone's really fucking depressed," says Molloy. "Everyone's miserable. Everyone's being brutalised. What can we say? There is nothing hopeful happening in Britain, nothing. Come, come, friendly bombs!"
The chanting starts up again, an echo ringing across 30 years of rage and defeat: "Maggie, Maggie, Maggie! Dead, dead, dead!"
"We're all going straight to hell," says Molloy, taking a swig of lager.
There's more than one road to hell. It is bitterly appropriate that Thatcher died in the month that the current Conservative-led government finished what she started. In the name of an austerity project that is driving the British economy into the dirt - our credit rating has been downgraded, unemployment has soared and we're staring down the barrel of a triple-dip recession - David Cameron's cabinet has completed the largest project of redistribution of wealth from the poor to the rich in centuries.
The bill for the transfer can be itemised: the cost of the removal of Disability Living Allowance and of the bedroom tax that will cut the incomes of 660,000 families to starvation level has been spent on a new
lower tax bill for the top bracket of earners. Let's not dignify this with the term "austerity": this is a mugging, pure and simple, and like any mugging, protest alone rarely does any good and fighting back can be dangerous. This funeral, with its pomp and fuss and expense, feels like a well-timed spit in the eye.
If the Tories wanted to troll the working class, they could have made a lot less trouble for themselves. While the police trawl Twitter for anyone talking about effigies and pocket lighters, the Tories are planning to march in procession over the open grave of the British labour movement before the earth has even had time to settle. Thatcher, who loved a bit of kitsch, would have approved.
Both sides have oversimplified, because that's how tribal politics works. The right, with its smug condemnation of everyone not showing the proper respect for a deceased statesperson, is also guilty of a particular needling hypocrisy that becomes clear as soon as you google what British columnists had to say about the death of Hugo Chávez a month ago. There's also a large and largely silent chunk of the British population who see no reason to celebrate anything, who just want to let the Tories bury their monster without being obliged to join in the victory rut and get back to surviving in the seventh richest country in the world, where youth unemployment is over 20 per cent, one in three children live in poverty, and history repeats itself like a half-digested shit sandwich.
What began as a strained debate over the legacy of one woman has become an all-out war for the recent history of the nation, a history that is not being rewritten so much as scratched out and re-scribbled like an argument on a toilet wall, an angry mess of four-letter words and crude cartoons.
It's all just a little bit gross. The funeral celebrations are gross and the headlines are gross and the death parties are gross, though they at least have been refreshingly free of the hypocrisy that Thatcher so loathed. The Conservative Party that is now wetting itself over Thatcher's legacy includes some of the same Tories who betrayed her and forced her out of office in 1990. Their love for their "Boadicea in pearls" - I quote the Telegraph's truly grisly Thursday-morning headline - was never honest and was never truly for her.
What the Tories loved about Thatcher was what she represented, her status as a totem figure. They loved that they could wheel her out at events to rally the troops behind aggressive financial capitalism. Her infirmity, her growing senility, was even more convenient: her presence could be invoked without the possibility of her saying anything relevant and, if anyone complained, they were heartless, craven communists attacking a defenceless old woman. Do not be fooled by the buttoned-up exterior, the pretensions of dignity. There is a pent-up nastiness at the heart of British society that comes out chiefly when we drink, which we do a lot, and not just at street parties.
The story of Margaret Thatcher and what she meant to the people of Britain will not be written with an objective eye for many generations. The pain is too raw, the crowing too callous. But this funeral, the death parties, the global freak-out over the proper form of mourning, the demure calls for respect that got swallowed because the triumphant right-wing just couldn't resist a chance to strut its smug stuff and show its weapons - that's a story about a bitter, divided nation that needs to be told.
In telling even a tiny part of it, I find myself afraid for the country I was born in. It's becoming a colder, meaner, harder place. Margaret Thatcher was wrong: there is such a thing as society, and it's bloody annoyed, bitter and desperate and dancing on the grave of a broken old  tyrant because there's nothing else to dance about. And you can't help suspecting that that's just what Maggie would have wanted.


16 Apr 14:54


10 Apr 19:33

Advice to Young Men from an Old Man

Advice to Young Men from an Old Man:

++ Date:2007-02-15, 9:08AM PST — Advice to Young Men from an Old Man ++

1. Don’t pick on the weak. It’s immoral. Don’t antagonize the strong without cause, its stupid.

2. Don’t hate women. It’s a waste of time

3. Invest in yourself. Material things come to those that have self actualized.

4. Get in a fistfight, even if you are going to lose.

5. As a former Marine, take it from me. Don’t join the military, unless you want to risk getting your balls blown off to secure other people’s economic or political interests.

6. If something has a direct benefit to an individual or a class of people, and a theoretical, abstract, or amorphous benefit to everybody else, realize that the proponent’s intentions are to benefit the former, not the latter, no matter what bullshit they try to feed you.

7. Don’t be a Republican. They are self-dealing crooks with no sense of honor or patriotism to their fellow citizens. If you must be a Republican, don’t be a “conservative”. They are whining, bitching, complaining, simple-minded self-righteous idiots who think they’re perpetual victims. Listen to talk radio for a while, you’ll see what I mean.

8. Don’t take proffered advice without a critical analysis. 90% of all advice is intended to benefit the proponent, not the recipient. Actually, the number is probably closer to 97%, but I don’t want to come off as cynical.

9. You’ll spend your entire life listening to people tell you how much you owe them. You don’t owe the vast majority of people shit.

10. Don’t undermine your fellow young men. Mentor the young men that come after you. Society recognizes that you have the potential to be the most power force in society. It scares them. Society does not find young men sympathetic. They are afraid of you, both individually and collectively. Law enforcement’s primary purpose is to suppress you.

11. As a young man, you’re on your own. Society divides and conquers. Unlike women who have advocates looking out for them (NOW, Women’s Study Departments, government, non-profit organizations, political advocacy groups) almost no one is looking out for you.

12. Young men provide the genius and muscle by which our society thrives. Look at the Silicone Valley. By in large, it was not old men or women that created the revolution we live. Realize that society steals your contributions, secures it with our intellectual property laws, and then takes credit and the rewards where none is due.

13. Know that few people have your best interests at heart. Your mother does. Your father probably does (if he stuck around). Your siblings are on your side. Everybody else worries about themselves.

14. Don’t be afraid to tell people to “fuck off” when need be. It is an important skill to acquire. As they say, speak your piece, even if your voice shakes.

15. Acquire empathy, good interpersonal skills, and confidence. Learn to read body language and non-verbal communication. Don’t just concentrate on your vocational or technical skills, or you’ll find your wife fucking somebody else.

16. Keep fit.

17. Don’t speak ill of your wife/girlfriend. Back her up against the world, even if she is wrong. She should know that you have her back. When she needs your help, give it. She should know that you’ll take her part.

18. Don’t cheat on your wife/girlfriend. If you must cheat, don’t humiliate her. Don’t risk having your transgressions come back to her or her friends. Don’t do it where you live. Don’t do it with people in your social circle. Don’t shit in your own back yard.

19. If your girlfriend doesn’t make you feel good about yourself and bring joy to your life, fire her. That’s what girlfriends are for.

20. Don’t bother with “emotional affairs”. They are just a vehicle for women to flirt and have someone make them feel good about themselves. That’s the part of a relationship they want. For you it is a lot of work and investment in time. If they are having an emotional affair with you, they’re probably fucking someone else.

21. Becoming a woman’s friend and confidant is not going to get you into an intimate relationship. If you haven’t gotten the girl within a reasonably short period of time, chances are you won’t ever get her. She’ll end up confiding to you about the sexual adventures she’s having with someone else.

22. Have and nurture friendships with women.

23. Realize that love is a numbers game. Guys fall in love easily. You’re going to see some girl and feel like you’ll die if you don’t get her. If she rejects you, move on to the next one. It’s her loss.

24. Don’t be an internet troll. Got out and live life. There is not a cadre of beautiful women advertising on Craigslist to have NSA sex with you. Beautiful women don’t need to advertise. The websites that advertise with attractive women’s photos and claims of loneliness are baloney. All they want is your money and your personal information so that they can market to you. The posts on Craigslist by young “women” seeking NSA sex, and asking for a picture are just a bunch of gay troll pic collectors. This is especially true if the post uses common gay lexicon like “hole” as in “fuck my hole” or seeks “masculine” men, or uses the word cock (except in the context of “Don’t send a cock shot.”) There are women on Craigslist. They are easily recognizable by their 2-5 paragraph postings. Most are in their 30′s or older.

25. When you become a man in full, know that people will get in your way. People who are attracted to you will somehow manage to step in your path. Gay guys will give you “the look”. Old people will somehow stumble in front of you at the worst time. Don’t get frustrated. Just step aside and go about your business. Know that these are passive aggressive methods to get you to acknowledge their existence.

26. Don’t gay bash. Don’t mentally or physically abuse people because of who they are, or how they present themselves. It’s none of your business to try to intimidate people into conformity.

27. If your gay, admit it to yourself, your parents, your friends and society at large. Be prepared to get harassed. See rule 14. If someone threatens you or assaults you, call the cops. Have them arrested. You have no obligation to self sacrifice because of who you are. As a gay person, you’ll have more social freedom than straight men. Use it to protect yourself. Be prepared to get out of Dodge if your orientation makes your life unbearable. Move to San Francisco, New York, Atlanta, or New Orleans. You’ll find a welcoming community there.

28. Don’t be a poser. Avoid being one of those dudes who puts a surfboard on top of their car, but never surfs, or a dude with a powder coated fixed gear bike and a messenger bag, but was never a messenger. Live the life. Earn your bonafides.

29. Don’t believe the crap about the patriarchy. More women are accepted and attend college. More degrees are awarded to women than men. Women outlive men. More men commit suicide. Men are twice as likely to be victims of violence, including murder. If you consider sexual assaults in prisons, twice as many men are raped as women (society thinks prison rape is funny). The streets are littered with homeless men, sprinkled with a few homeless women. Statically,women are happier than men. The myth that girls are being cheated by our educational system is belied by the fact that schools are bastions of femininity, mostly run by and taught by women. Girls outperform boys in school. It is the boys in school getting fucked over, and prescribed Ritalin for being boys. Real wages for men are falling, while real wages for women are rising. Just because someone says something enough times, doesn’t make it true. You have nothing to feel guilty about.

30. Remember, 97% of all advice is worthless. Take what you can use, and trash the rest.

10 Apr 15:21

Teenage Engineering. The site and products are amazing.

Teenage Engineering. The site and products are amazing.