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    <title>know_no_bounds's New Writeups</title>
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    <updated>2005-04-14T03:04:21Z</updated>
<entry><title>Rosencrantz and Guildenstern in Paris (idea)</title><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.everything2.org:80/user/know_no_bounds/writeups/Rosencrantz+and+Guildenstern+in+Paris"/><id>http://www.everything2.org:80/user/know_no_bounds/writeups/Rosencrantz+and+Guildenstern+in+Paris</id><author><name>know_no_bounds</name><uri>http://www.everything2.org:80/user/know_no_bounds</uri></author><published>2005-04-14T03:04:21Z</published><updated>2005-04-14T03:04:21Z</updated>
<content type="html">&lt;p&gt;
Rosencrantz: She's a skank.&lt;br&gt;
Guildenstern: Who?&lt;br&gt;
R: Paris Hilton, of course!  Read the title.&lt;br&gt;
G: What about her? &lt;br&gt;
R:  She's a &lt;a href=&quot;/title/skank&quot;&gt;skank&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;br&gt;
G: No, you're just jealous of her success. &lt;br&gt;
R: Jealous? Of &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt;? &lt;br&gt;
G: She has more &lt;a href=&quot;/title/money&quot;&gt;money&lt;/a&gt; than you'll ever have. &lt;br&gt;
R: There's more to life than money. &lt;br&gt;
G: Perhaps, but money's a good part of it. &lt;br&gt;
R: &lt;a href=&quot;/title/Dignity&quot;&gt;Dignity&lt;/a&gt; and self-respect would be nice, and she doesn't have any. &lt;br&gt;
G: I'm sure she's laughing all the way to the bank. &lt;br&gt;
R: Yes, and I'm laughing &lt;em&gt;at&lt;/em&gt; her. &lt;br&gt;
G: She doesn't care. &lt;br&gt;
R: Obviously not. &lt;br&gt;
G: She doesn't care because she's &lt;a href=&quot;/title/capitalism&quot;&gt;making money&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;br&gt;
R: We're back where we started. I still say she has no dignity. &lt;br&gt;
G: Not in her public image, certainly. She decided to sell that off. &lt;br&gt;
R: Skank. &lt;br&gt;
G: No.  It's all carefully &lt;a href=&quot;/title/orchestrated&quot;&gt;orchestrated&lt;/a&gt;. Paris Hilton has turned herself into a &lt;a href=&quot;/title/product&quot;&gt;product&lt;/a&gt;. Do you think&amp;hellip;</content>
</entry><entry><title>False nostalgia (idea)</title><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.everything2.org:80/user/know_no_bounds/writeups/False+nostalgia"/><id>http://www.everything2.org:80/user/know_no_bounds/writeups/False+nostalgia</id><author><name>know_no_bounds</name><uri>http://www.everything2.org:80/user/know_no_bounds</uri></author><published>2004-06-17T01:01:47Z</published><updated>2004-06-17T01:01:47Z</updated>
<content type="html">&lt;p&gt;I burned my teenage diaries long ago.  It wasn't really a sacrifice; there wasn't much in them aside from &lt;a href=&quot;/title/too+much+bad+poetry+on+e2&quot;&gt;horrendous poetry&lt;/a&gt;, boring ruminations on the &lt;a href=&quot;/title/Meaning+of+Life&quot;&gt;Meaning of Life&lt;/a&gt;, and endless &lt;a href=&quot;/title/lovesick&quot;&gt;lovesick&lt;/a&gt; moaning about people whose faces I can no
longer remember.  &lt;a href=&quot;/title/Terrence%252C+this+is+stupid+stuff&quot;&gt;Stupid stuff&lt;/a&gt;, on the whole, and better off as &lt;a href=&quot;/title/smoke+and+ashes&quot;&gt;smoke and ashes&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;But I did save one scrap of paper out of the whole mortifying mess.  I tucked it in my wallet, and when it seems necessary I take it out and look it over.  It's a letter I wrote to myself many years ago:&lt;/p&gt;



&lt;p&gt;&lt;cite&gt;Dear &lt;a href=&quot;/title/Know_No_Bounds&quot;&gt;KNB&lt;/a&gt;,&lt;/cite&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;cite&gt;Today I woke up early and went to the stadium to watch the seniors &lt;a href=&quot;/title/graduation&quot;&gt;graduate&lt;/a&gt;.  The &lt;a href=&quot;/title/principal&quot;&gt;principal&lt;/a&gt; gave his usual pretentious speech, salting it with &lt;a href=&quot;/title/pretentiousness&quot;&gt;countless literary references&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href=&quot;/title/cliche&quot;&gt;trite sayings&lt;/a&gt;, and a series of personal anecdotes carefully selected to reveal to the world that he's a true &lt;a href=&quot;/title/Renaissance+man&quot;&gt;Renaissance man&lt;/a&gt;.  I don't&lt;/cite&gt;&amp;hellip;</content>
</entry><entry><title>ALS Scan (place)</title><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.everything2.org:80/user/know_no_bounds/writeups/ALS+Scan"/><id>http://www.everything2.org:80/user/know_no_bounds/writeups/ALS+Scan</id><author><name>know_no_bounds</name><uri>http://www.everything2.org:80/user/know_no_bounds</uri></author><published>2004-06-11T03:31:56Z</published><updated>2004-06-11T03:31:56Z</updated>
<content type="html">&lt;strong&gt;www.alsscan.com&lt;/strong&gt;

&lt;p&gt;I've seen a lot of &lt;a href=&quot;/title/porn&quot;&gt;porn&lt;/a&gt; in my life. I've watched &lt;a href=&quot;/title/men%2527s+magazines&quot;&gt;magazines&lt;/a&gt; come and go, I've seen plenty of videos, and I've surfed more &lt;a href=&quot;/title/porn+site&quot;&gt;websites&lt;/a&gt; than I can count.  When it comes to &lt;a href=&quot;/title/smut&quot;&gt;smut&lt;/a&gt;, I humbly consider myself an expert.  And I can tell you without hesitating that I have never in my life seen anything as hot as ALS Scan.  Simply put, these guys produce some of the most incredible porn I've ever seen.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;ALS Scan was the creation of Alex, a &lt;a href=&quot;/title/webmaster&quot;&gt;webmaster&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href=&quot;/title/photographer&quot;&gt;photographer&lt;/a&gt; whose vision, dedication, and sheer artistic talent have launched him to the top of the heap in the porn business.  His basic approach is simple: he gets the hottest women to do some of the steamiest, sexiest, &lt;em&gt;raunchiest&lt;/em&gt; acts you've ever seen.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;How does he do it?  In part it's because ALS Scan only does solo and &lt;a href=&quot;/title/lesbian&quot;&gt;lesbian&lt;/a&gt; pictorials--you'll never see a penis on the site.  Guy-girl shots are the toughest for porn girls to do, because they tend to be the most&amp;hellip;</content>
</entry><entry><title>The truth of beauty (idea)</title><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.everything2.org:80/user/know_no_bounds/writeups/The+truth+of+beauty"/><id>http://www.everything2.org:80/user/know_no_bounds/writeups/The+truth+of+beauty</id><author><name>know_no_bounds</name><uri>http://www.everything2.org:80/user/know_no_bounds</uri></author><published>2004-05-07T00:31:37Z</published><updated>2004-05-07T00:31:37Z</updated>
<content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;Last &lt;a href=&quot;/title/week&quot;&gt;week&lt;/a&gt; I went to a going-away party for Dr. Lo, a scientist from
&lt;a href=&quot;/title/National+Taiwan+University&quot;&gt;Taiwan&lt;/a&gt; who's been visiting our lab for the past
year.  All of us adore Dr. Lo.  He always smiles when he sees you, always
makes a cheerful remark, always asks your opinion about some wild new idea
he has.  He cooks the best Chinese food I've ever tasted and knows all the best
places to get the perfect ingredients.  Plus, he loves to sing &lt;a href=&quot;/title/a+cappella&quot;&gt;a cappella&lt;/a&gt; and actually  manages to do it quite well. There's just something endearing about a short, pudgy Asian  &lt;a href=&quot;/title/dude&quot;&gt;dude&lt;/a&gt; who's a brilliant scientist but is nonetheless willing to hop up on stage and do  &lt;a href=&quot;/title/Billy+Joel&quot;&gt;Billy Joel&lt;/a&gt; as good or better than Billy does it himself.  So I was sad to see him go, but  happy to shake his hand and tell him how  much I'd enjoyed working with him.&lt;/p&gt;  

&lt;p&gt;To my annoyance, I ended up having to walk to the party with Carrie.  I've worked
with her for almost six years now, and every day she shows up to work in her &lt;a href=&quot;/title/uniform&quot;&gt;uniform&lt;/a&gt;: 
a&amp;hellip;</content>
</entry><entry><title>Potterotica (idea)</title><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.everything2.org:80/user/know_no_bounds/writeups/Potterotica"/><id>http://www.everything2.org:80/user/know_no_bounds/writeups/Potterotica</id><author><name>know_no_bounds</name><uri>http://www.everything2.org:80/user/know_no_bounds</uri></author><published>2004-04-19T03:31:35Z</published><updated>2004-04-19T03:31:35Z</updated>
<content type="html">&lt;p align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;big&gt;&lt;big&gt;&lt;big&gt;WARNING:&lt;/big&gt;&lt;/big&gt;&lt;/big&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;If, dear &lt;a href=&quot;/title/surfer&quot;&gt;reader&lt;/a&gt;, you are a fan of the &lt;a href=&quot;/title/Harry+Potter&quot;&gt;Harry Potter&lt;/a&gt; books;
if, in particular, you love their innocent and &lt;a href=&quot;/title/whimsical&quot;&gt;whimsical&lt;/a&gt; air; if the
characters' shyness and awkwardness about romance leave you aching with
nostalgia for those days of childhood innocence, then I beg you:&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt; &lt;strong&gt;STOP READING NOW.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;You have been warned.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;hr&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Right then.  It has been observed that the Hogwarts students seem to
lead very chaste lives, given that they're trapped in the &lt;a href=&quot;/title/throes&quot;&gt;throes&lt;/a&gt; of
&lt;a href=&quot;/title/adolescence&quot;&gt;adolescence&lt;/a&gt;.  Very little &lt;a href=&quot;/title/snog&quot;&gt;snogging&lt;/a&gt; goes on at all, and most of
it seems to take place offstage--even when it's happening to the &lt;a href=&quot;/title/Harry+Potter&quot;&gt;title character&lt;/a&gt; in whose head we're all riding shotgun.
Moreover, we don't see Harry and friends ogling the girls (and by
&quot;&lt;a href=&quot;/title/ogling&quot;&gt;ogling&lt;/a&gt;&quot; I mean &quot;&lt;a href=&quot;/title/flat-chested&quot;&gt;staring at the breasts&lt;/a&gt; of&quot;),
fantasizing about three-ways with the &lt;a href=&quot;/title/Patil&quot;&gt;Patil&lt;/a&gt; twins, or indeed showing
the slightest&amp;hellip;</content>
</entry><entry><title>CPH (place)</title><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.everything2.org:80/user/know_no_bounds/writeups/CPH"/><id>http://www.everything2.org:80/user/know_no_bounds/writeups/CPH</id><author><name>know_no_bounds</name><uri>http://www.everything2.org:80/user/know_no_bounds</uri></author><published>2004-03-24T23:30:43Z</published><updated>2004-03-24T23:30:43Z</updated>
<content type="html">&lt;p&gt;Plenty of people complain about the worst airport they've ever visited (I vote for &lt;a href=&quot;/title/Charles+de+Gaulle+Airport&quot;&gt;Charles de Gaulle Airport&lt;/a&gt;, myself).
I'd like to do the reverse and say that &lt;a href=&quot;/title/Copenhagen&quot;&gt;Copenhagen&lt;/a&gt; Airport in &lt;a href=&quot;/title/Denmark&quot;&gt;Denmark&lt;/a&gt;
is one of the nicest.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;I don't know the &lt;a href=&quot;/title/terminal&quot;&gt;terminal&lt;/a&gt; in which I landed, but I &lt;em&gt;can&lt;/em&gt; tell
you that it was fantastic.  Many of the main corridors had &lt;a href=&quot;/title/hardwood&quot;&gt;wood
floors&lt;/a&gt;, and were nice enough that I felt guilty about dragging my bag   
across them.  Off the corridors were well-lit, comfortable seating areas; 
the chairs and couches were far enough apart that you could move your bags
through without clambering over people or mowing them down.  Throughout  
the airport, there were stores ranging from &lt;a href=&quot;/title/luxury&quot;&gt;luxury&lt;/a&gt; shops to convenience
stores, and on the way home I spent a good part of the wait for my flight
just browsing.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The &lt;a href=&quot;/title/train&quot;&gt;train&lt;/a&gt; to Copenhagen itself arrives just downstairs from the
terminal.  According to my watch, it arrived within forty-five seconds of
its scheduled arrival&amp;hellip;</content>
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