The Goat's Take
The Week's Topic:
INFORMATION SUPER-PIRACY
If you have been wondering where the Goat has been hiding for nearly a month, you need not wonder any longer. The answers will be within this very post. However, if you weren't wondering where the Goat was, and just passed off this particular absence as another fit of laziness and apathy towards you Cadets, you really need to quit being such an asshole. The past two weeks have sluggishly passed by, as Goat Manor was without their pirated Internet that whole time. Perhaps, it is better to start from the beginning:
Once upon a time, there was a Goat (Yours truly) living under the tyranny of a monopolistic cable company. The Goat constantly sought out a way to live without coughing up too much coin to the greedy maw of Charter Communications. One day, a terrible winter storm came and ravaged the land of Dowville, and left half the citizens powerless. Goat Manor was untouched by such storm (as it is impenetrable to all outside forces, such as Mother Nature and hobos), and all lights were kept on out of spite of the rest of the villagers. Unfortunately, the Father of the Goat was one of the powerless. Naturally, the Goat let him within the gates to bask in the warm glow of electricity. During his sheltering/checking of email, the Father of the Goat pointed out that there was a weak wireless Internet signal seeping into our house, and he strongly suggested that we take his wireless receiver and utilize it to swipe us some Internet.
So, the Goat gathered the Goat family to embark on an adventure to become bandwidth pirates. Luckily, we had just recently inherited an old ship from one of Goat Dog's long-passed relatives. Bound by stark determination to save a penny or two, we hoisted anchor in the small vessel (which is equal to seven small vessels if you're counting in dog-boats) and set out on the sea in search of something to plunder; namely the Internet. We sailed the fuck out of the oceans of slushy snow and ice banks left by the unrelenting storm (which eventually relented enough to allow us to start our search). We had our cutlasses, parrots, and even some Cap'n Crunch hats that we had to spray-paint black. After a little searching, Goat Dog voiced a knowing bark, which clearly stated that he had located the strongest vicinity of our phantom signal. This was fortunate, because we didn't have to look any farther than the neighbor's lawn.
The villagers looked upon us in our tiny vessel with obvious jealously, as we were fully illuminating ourselves with a floodlight and three flashlights. So, to rub our fortune in their faces even more, we grasped a hold of the Internet signal and proceeded to burn the hell out of our boat after we were safely on our doorstep. The boat had no use for us anymore, and I didn't want to waste my valuable manpower paddling over to stranded neighbors in need of flashlights. It wasn't my fault they were attacked by the no-electricity monster.
So, whether you believe the whole boat story or not, Goat Manor was blessed with free Internet for a long time. Free Internet is sweet as hell. You get all the luxuries of the Internet, only you don't pay for it. And did I mention it was free? I spent the extra money on _________ (You fill in the blank, because I'm sick of putting 'hookers' in that damn blank every time).
Many moons passed, and the Goat family was quite happy. That is, until another large storm left us weeping at the loss of our Internet. After this late-spring storm raped the land, we found that it had somehow taken the wireless signal from under our noses with its hail-shaped fists. In all possibility, the owners of that wireless service could have had their house collapsed by hailstones, or sucked up by a tornado. Whatever happened, they took away our Internet. For two weeks, we have diligently been trying to reestablish a hold on that preciously free bandwidth to no avail. So, like a little bitch, the Goat went back to those assbags at Charter Communications to demand his cable modem back.
Not only did they give me a faster cable modem, but upgraded Goat Manor to digital cable with all the newfangled stations. All that for less than we were originally paying for TV and Internet. The only catch is that this is just a trial for six months. However, I read between the lines of the mandatory gibberish that the office lady was pouring over my ears. She basically said that if I come back in to bitch every six months, I can get all the cheap-ass cable I can handle. All in. The only way you can beat that deal is to steal yourself some cable. And since we can't do that anymore, we opted to cash out our freeloading chips and pay for services like everyone else.
This might be the best thing the Goat has ever signed up for, because there is a channel in that little digital box that plays metal twenty four hours a day. I blast that shit all the time. I wake up head-banging, and I go to sleep with devils' exhaust and double bass rhythms stuck firmly in my brain. The fetus inside the Goatress doesn't just kick, but she punches and thrashes, too. People walking by Goat Manor cover their kids' ears and walk a little quicker. Any rainbows overhead instantly turn black, and Satan has started to come to our doorstep asking to borrow flour and/or entrails for cooking. Hearing is becoming an uncertainty, but do I care? Hell no.
So kids, what's the moral of the story here? That's right, if you illegally steal Internet service from some poor sap, you will be rewarded afterwards with tons of channels, faster bandwidth, and all the metal you can handle for super cheap.
Stealing is awesome.
--The Goat
INFORMATION SUPER-PIRACY
If you have been wondering where the Goat has been hiding for nearly a month, you need not wonder any longer. The answers will be within this very post. However, if you weren't wondering where the Goat was, and just passed off this particular absence as another fit of laziness and apathy towards you Cadets, you really need to quit being such an asshole. The past two weeks have sluggishly passed by, as Goat Manor was without their pirated Internet that whole time. Perhaps, it is better to start from the beginning:
Once upon a time, there was a Goat (Yours truly) living under the tyranny of a monopolistic cable company. The Goat constantly sought out a way to live without coughing up too much coin to the greedy maw of Charter Communications. One day, a terrible winter storm came and ravaged the land of Dowville, and left half the citizens powerless. Goat Manor was untouched by such storm (as it is impenetrable to all outside forces, such as Mother Nature and hobos), and all lights were kept on out of spite of the rest of the villagers. Unfortunately, the Father of the Goat was one of the powerless. Naturally, the Goat let him within the gates to bask in the warm glow of electricity. During his sheltering/checking of email, the Father of the Goat pointed out that there was a weak wireless Internet signal seeping into our house, and he strongly suggested that we take his wireless receiver and utilize it to swipe us some Internet.
So, the Goat gathered the Goat family to embark on an adventure to become bandwidth pirates. Luckily, we had just recently inherited an old ship from one of Goat Dog's long-passed relatives. Bound by stark determination to save a penny or two, we hoisted anchor in the small vessel (which is equal to seven small vessels if you're counting in dog-boats) and set out on the sea in search of something to plunder; namely the Internet. We sailed the fuck out of the oceans of slushy snow and ice banks left by the unrelenting storm (which eventually relented enough to allow us to start our search). We had our cutlasses, parrots, and even some Cap'n Crunch hats that we had to spray-paint black. After a little searching, Goat Dog voiced a knowing bark, which clearly stated that he had located the strongest vicinity of our phantom signal. This was fortunate, because we didn't have to look any farther than the neighbor's lawn.
The villagers looked upon us in our tiny vessel with obvious jealously, as we were fully illuminating ourselves with a floodlight and three flashlights. So, to rub our fortune in their faces even more, we grasped a hold of the Internet signal and proceeded to burn the hell out of our boat after we were safely on our doorstep. The boat had no use for us anymore, and I didn't want to waste my valuable manpower paddling over to stranded neighbors in need of flashlights. It wasn't my fault they were attacked by the no-electricity monster.
So, whether you believe the whole boat story or not, Goat Manor was blessed with free Internet for a long time. Free Internet is sweet as hell. You get all the luxuries of the Internet, only you don't pay for it. And did I mention it was free? I spent the extra money on _________ (You fill in the blank, because I'm sick of putting 'hookers' in that damn blank every time).
Many moons passed, and the Goat family was quite happy. That is, until another large storm left us weeping at the loss of our Internet. After this late-spring storm raped the land, we found that it had somehow taken the wireless signal from under our noses with its hail-shaped fists. In all possibility, the owners of that wireless service could have had their house collapsed by hailstones, or sucked up by a tornado. Whatever happened, they took away our Internet. For two weeks, we have diligently been trying to reestablish a hold on that preciously free bandwidth to no avail. So, like a little bitch, the Goat went back to those assbags at Charter Communications to demand his cable modem back.
Not only did they give me a faster cable modem, but upgraded Goat Manor to digital cable with all the newfangled stations. All that for less than we were originally paying for TV and Internet. The only catch is that this is just a trial for six months. However, I read between the lines of the mandatory gibberish that the office lady was pouring over my ears. She basically said that if I come back in to bitch every six months, I can get all the cheap-ass cable I can handle. All in. The only way you can beat that deal is to steal yourself some cable. And since we can't do that anymore, we opted to cash out our freeloading chips and pay for services like everyone else.
This might be the best thing the Goat has ever signed up for, because there is a channel in that little digital box that plays metal twenty four hours a day. I blast that shit all the time. I wake up head-banging, and I go to sleep with devils' exhaust and double bass rhythms stuck firmly in my brain. The fetus inside the Goatress doesn't just kick, but she punches and thrashes, too. People walking by Goat Manor cover their kids' ears and walk a little quicker. Any rainbows overhead instantly turn black, and Satan has started to come to our doorstep asking to borrow flour and/or entrails for cooking. Hearing is becoming an uncertainty, but do I care? Hell no.
So kids, what's the moral of the story here? That's right, if you illegally steal Internet service from some poor sap, you will be rewarded afterwards with tons of channels, faster bandwidth, and all the metal you can handle for super cheap.
Stealing is awesome.
--The Goat