Nostalgia of the Mind

Browsing around on hackthissite.org, I came across a tutorial on redcoding. That is, the assembly language of the programming-based wargame “Core War.” I had heard of this, briefly, while perusing the hive mind, but never really tried my hand at it. It has been featured in Scientific American, and seems to be pretty well known in the wargaming community. So, over the course of the next week/month or so, I’ll try my hand at a little slice of it, and report back on this blog. Obviously I won’t become pro in a week, but I’ll see how it is.

In a total side note, I have decided to start writing all of my posts using raw html in ScribeFire, instead of relying on the little link buttons. My html knowledge, 6 months ago decent, has devolved to googling everything. So, I’ll just do it by hand. In XHTML, no less. Beat that, rotting-hunk-of-meat-that-is-my-brain.

In other news, I got back from my defensive camp today with the rest of my football team. (The [sic] Championship Grading System! is thumbs up/down; truly, the System by which Champions are made) Over two-and-a-half days, the highlights and lowlights (shutup, k?):

• Highlights:

–>Ordering (virtually) everything on the menu at Sonic Drive-in (the watermelon slush makes my knees go weak)
–>Cracking my first (true) joke. So John Risko says “I hate people who think they are cool but really are not.” (possibly referring to me, or maybe someone else. I wasn’t really paying attention) So, sensing my moment, reply, wait for it… wait for it… “I didn’t know you were filled with such self-loathing.” YES!
I went there. TOTALLY OWNED. PWNAGE until kingdom come. Felt good, that did.
–>FINALLY playing tackle football again. Tackling other people, no less.

• Lowlights:

–>Getting tackled by big sweaty men.
–>Getting tackled by medium-size sweaty men.
–>Getting tackled by smallish-size sweaty men.
–>Getting tackled.
–>Smelling like ass and balls, blended into a refreshing mix at the same time, yet knowing that the next day, I have to put on those delicious-smelling pads for another day of camp.

Not that I’m complaining. It was pretty fucking awesome. Plus, I’m not a rookie anymore. (don’t even get me started)

In even less important news, I have a bruise on my arm which looks like a tattoo loosely meaning “03″. Double points if you can guess what that means.

Finally, the blog post has seemed to have published itself two-nay-three-nay-four times. Fucking scribefire.

UPDATE: wait, five times.

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