Well, happy birthday Nick. I only hope that you can like not hate me or something, since I never did threaten you.

--Racko

<i,b,u>WHY DO FAKE NEW ITEMS GET MORE RESULTS THAN REAL NEW ITEMS???</i,/b,/u>

People like to reply to news items in red I guess. Oh well.

amicek

Take a look at the picture. There's a graphing calculator on the couch.. just out of view. :P

BTW, is that a pinball machine in your house, Nick?

AHH! you tricked me!

~Jake B

That's a pinball machine, but it's not my house. We're too cheap for luxuries like that. ;)

For a shot of the ceiling of my bedroom (and the AC vent all the way off to the left), go to http://nickd.org/nickd.jpg .

--BlueCalx

LMAO (more IRC acronyms :P)

I looked at your webpage just before I read this, and had a pretty good time laughing at what you put (ahem, the stuff that was *supposed* to be funny - not the stories :)

BTW, these 'fake' newsitems really do get alot of replies - up to almost 90 now! lol

I think the Modest Proposal is posted at least thrice in every room that me, Sparky, DePilla, Som or Ed has a class or extracurricular in.
We're eccentric like that. :)

--BlueCalx

(BTW - Sparky is the author of the modest proposal and he's the one sitting next to me on that couch, looking like he's stoned or something.)

Maby because real news articles usually have to do with only 1 or 2 calculators, while fake is completely universal, anyone will enter.

The bushes to the east begin to stir.
A storm is coming.
Hide, fools.
Hide.

- Flinn
Bringing it back on.

You wake up to the sound of voices in the hall. You are confused for a moment; it's only 8 AM, far too early for anyone to be getting up. Then, it dawns on you: it's ditch day here at the fictitious California Institute of Technology in the mythical city of Pasadena, California. Ditch Day, that strange tradition wherein seniors bar their doors with various devices and underclassmen attempt to defeat these devices (for no other apparent reason than that the devices are there), has arrived.

Room 3
This is your room. You live a fairly austere life, being a poor college student. The only notable features are the bed (unmade, of course) and a small wooden desk. An exit is west.
You see a waste basket here.

>

> look in waste basket

Contained in the waste-basket is what one would expect -- crumpled scraps of failed theses, empty aluminum cylinders, their hollow shells once the cold, impersonal home of carbonated beverages, and the latest compilation of grade-marks.

> go west

[Hallway, Bohr Dormitory]
Sunlight filtered by the soiled windows paints the walls a dull shade of yellow; imperfections in the casting, moving about in the projected plane in manners reminiscient of classical Brownian motion, manifest interesting patterns on the wall. The hallway, and the adjacent rooms, are unusually tacit; you would expect to hear the electronically generated beeps of some esoteric video-game emenating from behind a door. To the north is the exit to the bottom floor; to the south is a corridor that stretches further into infinity, as if you were trapped within the solid crafted by some devious quartic.

Others in this room: none
Possible exits: north, south, east.

>

G'haa! That's freaky! The guy on the left looks almost exactly like myself! Who is he?!

-Zero
President of Mogsoft, Inc.

That is Sparky, a rl friend.
He wrote the modest proposal on nickd.org, among many other dramatic feats of superhuman courage.

Too numerous to mention, mind you :)

--BlueCalx

No one cares about your birthday!
IT DOESN'T MATTER WHEN YOUR BIRTHDAY IS!

I got through about the first 20 comments and became more bored than I actually was before I read the first comment. What's that book about? Math Programming?

Fractals and chaos theory.
Nice webpage, btw :)

--BlueCalx

Geez, there is a time for everything! A time to rejoice, and a time to weep! This is a time to rejoice for Nick. Why do you have to be the sour patch kid and ruin everything?

Not much for singing happy birthday to people, so you get the coveted "HB" (Happy Birthday),

Matt H.

Somebody has no life (not that anybody else who bothers to reply to this does either)