bcho

# search.py
# ---------
# Licensing Information: Please do not distribute or publish solutions to this
# project. You are free to use and extend these projects for educational
# purposes. The Pacman AI projects were developed at UC Berkeley, primarily by
# John DeNero ([email protected]) and Dan Klein ([email protected]).
# For more info, see http://inst.eecs.berkeley.edu/~cs188/sp09/pacman.html

#######################
#        PART I       #

bcho

[in an anniversary card to his parents] Dear Father and Mother: July is the month I remember which brings not only your wedding anniversary but also Father's Day and Mother's birthday. I'm sorry I can't remember the exact dates, but I hope this card will take care of them all. I'm sorry again I cannot send you my address like I promised to last year. But the sensitive nature of my work for the government demands utmost secrecy. I know you will understand. I am healthy and well and making lots of money. I have been going with a girl for several months and I know you would be proud if you could see her. Her name is Betsy but I can tell you no more than that...I hope this card finds you all well as it does me. I hope no one has died. Don't worry about me. One day, they'll be a knock on the door and it'll be me. Love Travis.


[in a note] Dear Iris: This money should be used for your trip. By the time you read this, I will be dead. Travis.


Now I see it clearly. My whole life is pointed in one direction. I see t

bcho

looking in the mirror] Yeah. Huh? Huh? Huh? [draws] faster than you, you fuckin' son of a...I saw you comin', you fuck. Shit-heel. [reholsters] I'm standin' here. You make the move. You make the move. It's your move. [draws gun from concealed forearm holster] Huh? Don't try it, you fuck. [reholsters] You talkin' to me? You talkin' to me? You talkin' to me? [turns around to look behind him] Well, then who the hell else are you talking- You talking to me? Well, I'm the only one here. Who the fuck do you think you're talking to? Oh yeah? Huh? 'kay. [whips out his gun again] Huh? [Travis voiceover: Listen you fuckers, you screwheads. Here's a man who would not take it anymore. Who would not let- Listen you fuckers, you screwheads. Here is a man who would not take it anymore. A man who stood up against the scum, the cunts, the dogs, the filth, the shit. Here is someone who stood up. Here is...] [draws his gun] You're dead.

bcho

Loneliness has followed me my whole life. Everywhere. In bars, in cars, sidewalks, stores, everywhere. There's no escape. I'm God's lonely man. June 8th. My life has taken another turn again. The days can go on with regularity over and over, one day indistinguishable from the next. A long continuous chain. Then suddenly, there is a change.


June 29th. I gotta get in shape now. Too much sittin' is ruinin' my body. Too much abuse has gone on for too long. From now on, it will be fifty push-ups each morning, fifty pull-ups. There'll be no more pills, there'll be no more bad food, no more destroyers of my body. From now on, it will be total organization. Every muscle must be tight.

bcho

 Hello Betsy. Hi, it's Travis. How ya doin'? Listen, uh, I'm, I'm sorry about the, the other night. I didn't know that was the way you felt about it. Well, I-I didn't know that was the way you felt. I-I-I would have taken ya somewhere else. Uh, are you feeling better or oh you maybe had a virus or somethin', a 24-hour virus you know. It happens. Yeah, umm, you uh, you're workin' hard. Yeah. Uh, would you like to have, uh, some dinner, uh with me in the next, you know, few days or somethin'? Well, how about just a cup of coffee? I'll come by the, uh, headquarters or somethin', we could, uh...Oh, OK, OK. Did you get my flowers in the...? You didn't get them? I sent some flowers, uh...Yeah, well, OK, OK. Can I call you again? Uh, tomorrow or the next day? OK. No, I'm gonna...OK. Yeah, sure, OK. So long.


I tried several times to call her, but after the first call, she wouldn't come to the phone any longer. I also sent flowers but with no luck. The smell of the flowers only made me sicker. The headaches got wors

bcho

#!/bin/bash

# root privilege required.

# Create an empty file:
# Count size base is `B`, so 65536 (B) is 64 MB 
dd if=/dev/zero of=/path/to/your/swapfile bs=1024 count=65536

# Enable swap file:
mkswap /path/to/your/swapfile

bcho

May 26th. Four o'clock p.m. I took Betsy to Charles Coffee Shop on Columbus Circle. I had black coffee and apple pie with a slice of melted yellow cheese. I think that was a good selection. Betsy had coffee and a fruit salad dish. She could have had anything she wanted.


I called Betsy again at her office and she said maybe we'd go to a movie together after she gets off work tomorrow. That's my day off. At first she hesitated but I called her again and then she agreed. Betsy, Betsy. Oh no, Betsy what? I forgot to ask her last name again. Damn. I got to remember stuff like that.

bcho

//------------------------------------------------------------------------
// Start compiling program.
// 11/03/14 14:00:05
//------------------------------------------------------------------------
  1 PROGRAM MAIN; 
  2 CONST A = 2; 
  3 VAR B, C; 
  4 BEGIN 
  5     C := '5'; 
  6     write(C); 

bcho

I first saw her at Palantine Campaign headquarters at 63rd and Broadway. She was wearing a white dress. She appeared like an angel. Out of this filthy mess, she is alone. They... cannot... touch... her.

May 26th. Four o'clock p.m. I took Betsy to Charles Coffee Shop on Columbus Circle. I had black coffee and apple pie with a slice of melted yellow cheese. I think that was a good selection. Betsy had coffee and a fruit salad dish. She could have had anything she wanted.

Loneliness has followed me my whole life. Everywhere. In bars, in cars, sidewalks, stores, everywhere. There's no escape. I'm God's lonely man.

bcho

May 10th. Thank God for the rain which has helped wash away the garbage and trash off the sidewalks. I'm workin' long hours now, six in the afternoon to six in the morning. Sometimes even eight in the morning, six days a week. Sometimes seven days a week. It's a long hustle but it keeps me real busy. I can take in three, three fifty a week. Sometimes even more when I do it off the meter. All the animals come out at night - whores, skunk pussies, buggers, queens, fairies, dopers, junkies, sick, venal. Someday a real rain will come and wash all this scum off the streets. I go all over. I take people to the Bronx, Brooklyn, I take 'em to Harlem. I don't care. Don't make no difference to me. It does to some. Some won't even take spooks. Don't make no difference to me.


Twelve hours of work and I still can't sleep. Damn. Days go on and on. They don't end.