The Original Slashdot F.A.Q. (Circa 2006)

Published: August 15, 2017 2017

On my author website, I have a Slashdot page with an old joke: “There are 10 kinds of people on Slashdot. Those who see my picture, go back to Slashdot and leave a comment, ‘You’re a fat retard.’ And everyone else.” If you know binary, “10” is actually “2” in decimal. That page was actually a pale imitation of a longer Slashdot F.A.Q. that I had back in 2006. The purpose of these pages was to have a signature link for my website in my Slashdot comments. Twenty years ago, a signature link would have generated 3,000+ clicks from Slashdot (enough to crash a web server via the “Slashdot effect”). Ten years ago, 300+ clicks. Today, 30+ clicks. Slashdot is just a pale imitation of itself these days. While sorting out some old electronic files on my file server, I came across the files for the original Slashdot F.A.Q. from 11 years ago. Reproduced below with some minor editing.

C.D. Reimer in 2006
C.D. Reimer in 2006

I frequently read and comment on Slashdot, a techie news discussion website. Because of the quality of my posts and my article submissions, I’m a highly rated commentator and moderator. I occasionally catch the attention of trolls (Anonymous Cowards). This F.A.Q. answers some of the questions that I’ve gotten over the last several years.

Why are the fat-loving /. retards after you?

Since my homepage link is visible when I post comments on Slashdot, fat-loving /. retards visit my website, see my picture, and go back to Slashdot to leave a comment to insult my appearance. There are several different commentary and/or personality styles.

  • “wow u r fat” — Might be a 14-year-old wanker who never graduated from nursery school and doesn’t know how to use more than seven letters.
  • “I bet you run out of EVERY color trying to draw a self-portrait don’t you fatty?” — A slightly more intelligent 14-year-old wanker.
  • “Hey here’s a joke for you, you fat tub of monkey shit.” — This 14-year-old wanker needs some serious mental help.

The typical fat-loving /. retard thrives on putting people down at every opportunity. The best method to deal with them is to call them out on it. They are like peacock-strutting bullies until someone gets into their face and they run away like the anonymous cowards that they are.

Are the fat-loving /. retards correct that you are “morbidly obese”?

The technical definition of morbidly obesity is being twice or more than your ideal body weight, all forms of dieting has failed to work and suffering from negative health effects. I weighed 400 pounds as a teenager, which was twice my ideal body weight according to doctors at that time. After I got a bicycle for my sixteenth birthday in 1985, I rode all over the county and lost 70 pounds of weight that summer. My riding weight was 325 pounds for 20 years. I then gave away my bicycle and I went to the gym. After a year of weight training, I’ve bulked up to 375 pounds, found it difficult to buy 4XL t-shirts at the stores, and let me weight drop down to 350 pounds. Except for seasonal allergies, I suffer no negative health effects. So, no, I’m not morbidly obese. But there are still plenty of people who love to argue with me on that point.

Isn’t the fat-loving /. retards correct that you’re fat and ugly?

I’m fat and ugly. So what?

Don’t the insults from fat-loving /. retards get on your nerves?

Not really. After living with the nicknames like “Titanic” at school and “Tortuga” (“turtle” in Spanish) at a restaurant job before I started my technical career, and being called everything else under the sun by my mother, it’s very hard for anyone to come up with an original insult that would offend me. Since I’m improving my physical health by dieting and exercise, nobody can say anything that will discourage me or hurt my feelings. One of the things about working out is that you become more confident about who you are as a person. The fat-loving AC /. retards go after me because I have something that they don’t have: confidence, self-respect and a willingness to change.

I saw your Slashdot signature: “Only fat-loving /. retards drool over my website pictures. Perverts.” How come there’s no fat porn on your website?

Sorry, I’m not running that kind of website.  Go find your fat porn somewhere else. Pervert.

Napping After Work Like My Father

Published: August 7, 2017 2017

My father always had dinner and fell asleep in his recliner after he came home from his construction job. A few hours later he would wake up, watch TV and go to bed at ten. Sometimes he would just take NyQuil and go straight to bed after his nap. Every morning he would get up at 5:30AM to start his day. He did that for 50 years. When I worked with him in construction for a few years before going to college, I followed the same pattern. Construction work was hard work. After starting my technical career 20+ years ago, I’ve never took naps after coming home and having dinner. Cleaning out IT storage closets wasn’t hard work. With my 48th birthday this week, I found myself becoming more like my father.

My technology job that pays the bills isn’t a physically demanding job. I get up at 4:30AM to get ready for work, take the express bus into Palo Alto, and start work at 7:00AM to catch up with the East Coast. Most of the time I’m pulling down spreadsheets with the latest Nessus scans, consoling hurt workstations and fixing broken users. Whenever I have downtime between tasks, while running scripts, or attending virtual meetings, I play with the trolls on Slashdot. After work I take the express bus home, have dinner and work on my side business — writing, publishing and promoting — until I go to bed at nine. I’ve done that for three years straight.

Something changed a few months ago. I started coming home, having dinner and taking a 90 minute nap in bed. I’ve never acquired the ability to sleep semi-upright in a recliner. The last time I fell asleep in my recliner was when I had my wisdom teeth pulled and my cheeks swelled up like a puffer fish in 2008. My father often slept in my recliner when he was working in town or visiting for the holidays. When he passed away from throat cancer five years ago, he died at home while sleeping in his recliner in front of the TV.

Maybe it’s the summer heat. My office is so cold that I have to wear a sweater for the entire day. When I step outside to wait 15 minutes for the express bus, I’m wilting like a flower in the heat. The AC on the express bus runs at full tilt, making it colder than my office. Once I get off the express bus, I’m walking home — and warming up — in the heat. These sudden temperature swings aren’t good for me. Taking naps is a good way to recover from that.

Or maybe it’s losing a pound per week. When I first got my digital bathroom scale, I weighed 370 pounds. I now weigh 357 pounds after 13 weeks. I’ve always felt the need to take a nap after working out at the gym on the weekends. The last time I felt this good physically was in my twenties when I rode my bicycle 100+ miles per week and my riding weight was 325 pounds. While my typical weekday isn’t as physically demanding as my weekend workouts, perhaps my body during the week requires nap time to build muscle and burn fat.

Or maybe I’m just getting old. I’m no longer the young person who can bound up the stairs with four loads of laundry in two baskets. I’m content to do only two loads at a time, making the extra trips to get everything done. My beard has gone snowy white; my brown hair is graying out. Something that didn’t happen to my father until he turned 55 and started demanding his senior citizen discounts at restaurants. Taking naps is just an indicator that I need to slow down and not be in a hurry.

Becoming like my father always scared me as a young person, mostly because I didn’t want to grow old and face my own my mortality. Now I’m accepting it as a necessity of life, a road map of what to expect in my middle age. One nap at a time.