GrasshopperQ Log

More 16.5 K Joy

2009-05-20T11:12:00.001-06:00

Today the insulation installers came in and were checking out the attic before they were to blow in the insulation from their rental truck. (Yes, rental truck...which I actually think is quite cool.) They came back down from the attic and said, “Did you know your AC’s supply duct is not attached? Oh, and your attic fan doesn’t work.”

Of course I knew neither thing was true, and I just had to see it for myself. So I went up, got a lungful of insulation dust (mmm—MM!), and sure enough, the AC was merrily blowing nice, cool air into the attic—though I’m sure at least some of it was going into the tube that was hanging detached from it, like a skull’s lazy, half-unhinged jaw. The insulation installation dude then directed my attention to the attic fan. It was all corroded and decrepit-looking, appearing nothing like one might expect from the promised new fan. He cranked the thermostat, and sure enough…no joy. I wanted to put my finger into the fan and push the blades to just get it going, but thought better of it: I decided I’ll stick the AC-installer’s finger in there instead!

Oh, and the duct cleaning that they were supposed to call and schedule for today? Still hasn’t been scheduled. Needless to say, the AC installers got a rather polite and very direct phone call from me. Well…relatively direct, for me. Luckily, the contact said that I should have my wife call him to make sure all of her problems were addressed, too. Heh heh. His funeral.

16 and a Half K of Joy

2009-05-17T23:03:00.004-06:00

Alright, so I was going to try to not gripe about particular companies and their performance, but this experience has been just too much.

Government and HVAC companies alike promise a ridiculous amount of rebates and other creaminess for upgrading the cardiovascular system of the house. So, why the heck not?

We get quotes from no fewer than three companies, and finally settle on Action Plumbing Heating & Air Conditioning. The salesman was more believable, and his promises were interesting. A hyper-efficient AC and heating unit were too much for me and my wanna-be-"green"ness to resist. 600 Watts of 3-ton-equivalent AC that can be run on two car batteries in serial? Come on! Awesome! 98% efficient heater. Wow. Course we had to throw in a new water heater and water softener. $16,500 later, and the installers finally get it all installed. And wow what a mess.

Cigarette butts in the yard, cigarette stench flowing into the open doors...to say nothing of the smoker's stench reeking off the breath and bodies of the installers. Oh, would that that were the only complaint.

After nearly a week's delay in getting the units installed (we were under a time crunch to get it installed so we could take benefit of an insulation installation rebate) guys are crawling around in our attic space in order to revent the upper floor for the new AC coolness. Holes cut in each room were expected. Even the snowy insulation clumps dropping out of said holes were no surprised. And when the installers walked around with a vacuum, I thought nothing of it. A week later I'm still cleaning up the insulation bits and flakes. Really quite annoying.

Consider, though, that while they were up in the attic, they stepping on a light fixture socket and created a 12-foot crack along the center of the hallway ceiling. I'm sure they did the right thing by patching it up instead of ripping it down and replacing it...and hopefully it's even stronger than ever (apparently the builder of the house fastened the sheetrock sheets with 4 screws--FOUR!--and glued the rest. The slightest tremor, we're going to be swimming in sheetrock goodness.

Stuff finally gets installed, and there's a leak. No big. Painter for the ceiling comes in and paints the ceiling, give the leaky pipe a crank, and leak disappears.

The AC unit which originally was said to be mounted in the attic, invisible to the outside, is a behemoth on the roof thanks to the limited attic space. I've hired a painter to look at it and make it look either less obtrusive, or to stick out like a beautiful...thing. Turns out, it's supposed to be mounted outside. Strange.

Today was a nice, warm day. (I'm still sitting on the couch sweating my clothes wet at midnight.) First opportunity to use the new AC unit! Woohoo! Finally get it turned on (figured out without the promised help of the installers)...and an hour later, discover that my nightstand is soaked with water dripping out of the newly installed vent. Yay. And water is pouring down the ceiling, coming out of a bubbling panel in the side of the monster on the ceiling. Looks like another call to Action Plumbing Heating and Air Conditioning...who've been promising us a return visit to install a new air vent to the ceiling.

Let's not forget the carboard, ladder, and other boxes left throughout the yard and house and garage.

I'm sure hoping they make this right as they've promised they will. I'm annoyed, and my wife's Pee-Eye-ISSED.

The Language of War

2009-04-06T23:23:00.008-06:00

I sit here after a workout filled with techniques on how to beat an opponent quickly, efficiently and brutally. I sit here filling my mind with images of war and bloodshed in Band of Brothers. There is beauty in the carnage, the death, the destruction and the effective use of it all. It sickens me, and I learn about it; I study it; I practice it, and I vainly hope to God I never ever see its like in reality.

What in the name of all that's holy and good possesses people (and I use the term lightly and with no small amount of derision) to find something--anything--so important as to cause the death and suffering of other people? What, power? Land? Resources? Money? Different gods? Is it worth it? Really?

I'll tell you what's worth causing the kind of suffering war brings to fighting men and women and their children. It's people that allow their greed and lust for power, land, resources, money and different gods to overcome their general decency, their very humanity in order to satisfy those lusts. These are the people that cause others who would normally not want to kill have to kill. These are the people that typically never have to kill--they only create "policy" that requires others to do their dirty work. These are the ones who are deserving of the hell that they inflict on others for their lust. Terrorists all, pretending to be statesmen. God damn them all. Course, as always, they'll be doing that themselves. I'm good with that.

Don't get me wrong: right now there are times and events that require war. There are even times when going on the offensive to neutralize a clear and present danger is needed. Damn those who create that necessity. They'll go to hell, and I won't shed a tear to see them there. And I will wade through the beautiful filth that are the skills to defend myself from these drooling demons in human form, as I curse those that create that demand, reveling in its fluidity and formless, horrid beauty.

I study two languages. Both are beautiful. Both reveal a man's soul. I prefer the language of Peace.

The Hypocrisy of the New Messiah

2009-02-17T10:39:00.004-07:00

I'll admit I'm not the sharpest brick in the sack of drawers, but honestly, who can't see through the foolishness of this "stimulus bill" drafted by our fearless, holy leader?

Who remembers Bush being continually slammed for his attempts at putting money back in the pockets of companies so they could employ more people, and therefore allow those people opportunity to spend more and keep the economy rolling? Who remembers the derisive word used? "Trickle-down Economics." What an idiot, that Bush, thinking that the money will trickle down from companies to employees to companies.

Let's consider how this new brilliant piece of dog-shtimulus coming down the pike will stimulate the ecomony.

Question: How will giving money to these government programs help stimulate the economy?

Answer: You give the money to the government programs. They give the money to needy companies. Needy companies can then employ and pay needy employees. Needy employees can then buy stuff, thereby stimulating the economy!

So...Obama and his cronies aren't for trickle down economics, but they're for trickle-trickle down...? That's so much better!

Super Activist Powers...Activate!

2008-10-28T15:12:00.009-06:00

I have been imbued with a deep, unrelenting, powerful dislike for Obama and his policies...his party's policies. I have little love for some of McCain's actions, but not nearly so rabid. (Truth be told I'm voting largely against two-party lines.) As a result, you can count on seeing me in some kind of volunteer role, some activist role in promoting something very different than the actions and views of Obama and his party.

Sunday night we received a call from our day care 12 hours before our kids should have been dropped off there. It was the owner letting us know that the day care was closing down. The reason: they were hit by huge taxes handed down from their large-company (highly taxed under Obama's "plan") subletter that they couldn't pay and were denied credit due to credit crunch created by Obama's party's insistence that people that can't afford homes be given loans to get homes. So now we're having to bring our kids to a more expensive, less secure, and more distant day care.

Oh, wait. It wasn't the Democrats that caused the banking problems?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RYz1rbB5V1s

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JuXMXmqSHnc

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YL36nwCSYUM

http://www.reason.com/news/show/129158.html

...and Obama only wants to help the "little guy" by taxing the larger companies ($250,000 earnings or more). Clearly this will help the little guy, right? See above! Little guy getting shafted here! (Let alone the obvious fact that companies are already looking to move their companies into states and countries with less tax. What do you think would happen when they're taxed more?)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vFC9jv9jfoA

I forget...Obama and his supporters are not for the trickle-down effect? Which party was the prime supporter of the "bail out(s)?" What was the model here? To give money to those above the little guy in hopes that it will start money trickling down from above. Trickling...down. Hypocrisy!

Let's consider, now, how the definition of "rich" keeps sinking lower and lower. Under the latest numbers, I would be considered rich and therefore subject to more taxes--you know, because those who aren't making a lot of money must get more money forced from me and forced into their hands. I give money and goods. Make me feel like I'm being forced to give and there's no reason for me to continue giving...aside from conscience and feeling that I'm in control of where it goes. But since I can't be trusted with where and to whom I give my money, I guess it's good enough that I'm forced to give it to all-knowing, altruistic, wonderful, god-like Obama.

I have no illusions about the size of my drop in the bucket. But it is something. And it is directly opposing the domination of Obama. Hmm...the Obamination?

Of Giant Hogs

2008-10-26T10:22:00.004-06:00

Watching Monster Quest, in search of the Giant Hog, in their attempts at attaching a camera to a normal hog, or "the Trojan Hog."

"Tonight, on Fox...When Pigs Go Wild! They'll find the normal hog bringing food offerings to a giant hog sitting on a throne, her name: Miss Piggy."

"And the prince consort a giant frog."

"She has piglets attached like little piggy pasties...tassels attached to their tails, spinning, 'wee, wee, wee!'"

Blind-Stupid Voters

2008-10-19T08:46:00.004-06:00

Obama's winning because he's got more money and because he's got the most charisma. That's it. Well, and because the average voter sure seems to be stupid.

Everyone says that the economy is the number one concern. And because the economy is sucking wind under Republican "rule", clearly we need to go Democrat. That's moronic. A voter need only do some research behind the sub-prime mortgage debacle as well as a few other things to realize that most--if not all--of the current "crisis" was caused by philosophies and pushes of the Democrat party. In just a few days we're turning the entire country over to the very same people that would see the country destroyed by their short-sighted, weak-hearted policies. Wouldn't be so bad if the voters' blindness didn't hit all branches of the government.

Ah, well. Live, learn, and hopefully recover.

Of Heaven And Hell Epilogue

2008-10-13T13:04:00.002-06:00

As my baby boy looks at me stands on strong legs, pounding the coffee table top with powerful smacks, looking up at me with the healthy grin of a showoff showing his dad his new skillz, I am thrust into the other end of the spectrum of family life. Before when he was ill, looking plaintively at me through tear-filled eyes it was the worst hell. Now is the best of heaven.

I can't wait for the teenage years for each of my kids. I can accept that the heaven-hell cycle of daily life with kids can be applied larger-scale to their moving through the cycle of adulthood. I know it'll be hell. But right now...and after their teenage state...I can only enjoy it. (And really, as a warrior, I plan on enjoying even hell.)

Pray Your Supported Public Servant Doesn't Get Elected!

2008-10-13T11:41:00.005-06:00

The reason we vote is the same reason we contribute money to our favorite public official. We vote in hopes that the one we're voting for gets elected, and we contribute for the same reason. And we do this so that the policies the would-be official espouses can be enacted and we, by extension, get the policies we support. And we do this so we can take advantage of the policies--exercise our new-found freedoms, as it were.

So, when this [expletive] sheriff Hutchens and the trolls of the Register insinuate in this article that the reason that the previous sheriff, Carona, gave CCW permits as a "kick-back" to his campaign contributors...well, let's just say that I really hope they have their facts straight. Otherwise they might just look like freedom-infringing trolls and [expletive]s that care nothing for the democratic process (since they've already proven their views on the Second Amendment).

Nuclear Energy is NOT CLEAN

2008-10-01T11:25:00.003-06:00

Let's consider for a moment the fact that when one burns oil, when one burns coal, when one burns anything there is a waste product that is emitted. As we attempt to "create" or "discover" cleaner sources of energy, how can we seriously consider the use of nuclear energy? If our use of fossil fuels really is causing global warming (and honestly, I don't care; I do care about what I and my kids are breathing) and we suddenly "discover" a new, cleaner way to feed our ravenous energy appetite, the earth will recover in, say, 100 years. We use nuclear energy, we have wastelands (so-named because it's where we store nuclear waste, and because those regions become uninhabitable in every way) that will remain wastelands for thousands of years.

Now energy storage...that's another problem. We have clean, safe, friendly (oh, and I must use the fad catch-word of the year--GREEN) energy from the wind and sun...being stored in toxic batteries. Well, at least the batteries can be recycled...

Of Heaven and Hell

2008-09-15T23:34:00.003-06:00

I've always said that having kids has been the worst hell and the best heaven in my entire existence. Right now, it's the former.

That is not to suggest that it's the actual child that's causing the hell, so much as my intense and equally impotent desire to lift any weight, destroy any life, run any distance, do anything to help my wailing 6-month-old feel better.

Mortality sucks.

Good Speeches, Questionable Content

2008-09-05T13:39:00.002-06:00

Well, I'm sold. I now know for sure who I'm voting for. Not that there was much question. But the decision has finally been made beyond that proverbial shadowy doubt. But that's not to say I don't have my complaints.

Palin was charismatic, sharp and clear. I loved it all. ...except for the jabs. At least her insults were often couched. But Giuliani's cuts...wow. I almost turned it off. Nasty, nasty, nasty.

I believe it was Mitt who attempted to once again equate the war in Iraq with al Qaeda and the Taliban. It wasn't said explicitly, but it was implied. Are we still perceived as that stupid?

Then there were all the jabs and pokes at Obama's expense from McCain. I was inspired and attentive with everything he had to say up until he started with the insults. At one point, I had things I needed to do but I was riveted by his speech. I decided to wait to do my chores until McCain's speech turned to the jabs and check back later for some more pertinent conten. Let's just say I got everything done I needed to do.

As with every presidential candidate he made promises that he can't really do much about. As with other candidates he showed he was an advocate for things I disagree with. E.g. too much emphasis was put on drilling for oil and nuclear power--oh, and maybe we'll look into alternative forms of energy. If drilling is an interim solution, say it and put the stress on the "interim" part. And using nuclear energy as an interim? Please. Giving terrorists more opportunity to control us and harm us; giving ourselves more need to endanger our health with nuclear waste; putting up permanent nuclear facilities as an "interim" solution. Who're we kidding? Let's not do the nuclear option (as if McCain or Obama have absolute control over it). But the point is, don't assure us of how things will be just because you're in office. We all know it's total conjecture.

Touching speeches about veterans and armed services personnel were given and received with a lump in the throat and a tear in the eye. That and the admission of responsibility for the Republican Party's corruption did it for me. It's about time someone admitted something in politics! Oh, and the intimation that it's about the country and the individual citizen and not about the puppies and bunnies. That was good, too.

Pretty Boy or Old Grouch. Someone's proven his worth and integrity. Maybe Obama will, but now's not the time.

So Many Retractions....

2008-09-02T09:22:00.002-06:00

Alright, so I have a few corrections to make regarding previous posts. Most recent--last night's--first: let me be clear that I was making an attempt at being tongue-in-cheek. We all know that we do things to have fun and do things outside our daily grind because they're fun and because they're outside our daily grind. Since everything has a price and because I'm still paying for the fun of the weekend and since it's in our nature to complain about the pain of paying the price for anything, the grumbling nature of the post seems to be more accentuated than intended. I had a good time! I'd do it again! (And please don't let my wife beat me for that post!)

Next retraction is regarding the Pero miracle cure post: I seem to have posted too quickly and without regard to another habit I had formed prior to the posting: placing a pinch of crushed barley under my tongue several times throughout the day. I had stopped that practice a couple weeks before I picked up the Pero habit. Now, given the tiny little tumors popping up on my hands again, it's time to restart the barley-chaw habit again. But don't expect me to give up the Pero. It's not as tasty as coffee, but has fewer side-effects...even the good ones, apparently.

Survivalist Guilt

2008-09-01T23:17:00.005-06:00

Everyone knows about that strange psychological affliction survivors of traumatic events get called "Survivor's Guilt." I think I've discovered a new disease: Survivalist Guilt.

This morning at 11:30 I and my family returned home from a most...educational camping trip. First allow me to describe the events of the camping trip in some broad strokes.

Out of curiosity and because I love the convenience of the tools at hand, I decided to check the weather at the location of our annual camping trip. Saturday warm and clear. Sunday rain and cold. Monday more rain and more cold. We were getting up there on Saturday morning and planning on returning Monday.

I informed everyone (my wife's brother and his family) of my weather forecast findings. My wife had a very good point about my not exercising sufficient faith to prevent the weather from turning bad, but that's another post for another time.

Saturday was indeed nice. Kids went swimming in the nearby lake, excellent conversation with good friends, fun kayaking on the lake, some firearm practice (remarkably vindicating!), the scent of campfire and the twinge of mosquito bites. Sunday evening, Sunday night, Monday morning...not so nice. Rain, hail, more rain, and a bit more rain.

Turns out the warning on our tent's instruction manual was correct: under steady barrage of water, tent may leak. We awoke--or rather arose, considering no one slept all that much except the youngest ones--to quite the sodden mess. Wet bedding, soaked clothing, drenched campsite and one water-damaged book on loan from a good friend (the greater tragedy). And the greatest tragedy: my kids are all coming down with various ailments. One's coughing, one's complaining about a headache--which, incidentally, we dismissed yesterday as her fault for having eaten so much junk food and not drinking enough water, and now my head is pounding so hard it feel like my eyeballs are about to be crushed from the inside. Gotta love karma. Or poetic justice. Or the ignorant presuppositions of know-it-all parents dismissing a kid's concerns as childish and beneath notice.

The majority of Monday was spent packing up dripping camp gear in such a way as to minimize water-damaging our family vehicle, setting that same gear back up again, drying it off, tearing it back down and finally putting it away in the garage until the next occasion. The holiday effectively burned away with exhausting, unpleasant activities.

As I washed the stink of 3 days' sweat, campfire and mud off my body a few minutes ago I asked the question of myself again, as I often do after most camping trips. "Why do we do this again?" The trite answer is, "Because it's fun!" Come on. What about the above sounded fun? Well, except for swimming, kayaking and conversing--but even those are proving to have consequences that are difficult to qualify as "pleasant." The answer came unbidden: "Because we like to be reminded of how good we have it."

Of course that was not a satisfactory answer, considering that not many of us go around crushing our thumbs with hammers because it makes us more grateful for when all our digits are operating under factory specifications. That left the only other explanation I could dredge up: we do it because we feel guilty for our easy, mundane, catered, technologically-enhanced lives--lives that our ancestors were not able to enjoy because they lacked the tools and opportunities we have because they were too busy with the day-to-day tasks of surviving.

Given the amount of time we spent in attempts at mitigating the consequences of our communion with a Mother Nature who seems to revel in proving who the boss is, it's a fair wonder we're as advanced as we are. And thank God we are! Now time to go rest up from the rest and nurse everyone back to the health robbed from them by our rest and healing time.

Lessons From the Infant

2008-08-30T00:17:00.004-06:00

Today, the family and I were out shopping at one of those giant stores that sell giant amounts of goods for giant prices--but which are smaller than they would be should the shopper buy the same amount of goods elsewhere and in not so giant volumes. The kids were hungry and getting quite rambunctious...probably because they were hungry. We stopped at the section of the store that has been set aside for serving pizza, shakes, and other delicious, deadly snacks.

I had the wee one in my arms, so my wife took care of ordering, buying, and drink filling. She placed a giant, fizzing cup of Mr. Pibb on the table in front of me and the wee one. She even brought over the Polish Dog and Sauerkraut. As she was asking me how much sauerkraut I wanted, the baby in my arms pulled the Mr. Pibb over into our laps.

Instantly my programming kicked in. You know, the error-filled, buggy programming that we get by watching others. "Well, Dad just got stuff spilled all over him and now he's pissed. Noted." The programming was accessing all the expected Sense-DoS nodes, prepping to flood the body with chemicals associated with anger and frustration. Then the boy in my lap started crying a pitiable cry of fear and confusion as his sensors and processes were overwhelmed by a sudden lap-full of ice-cold...something! The program runtime ended as though someone had tripped the breaker, kicked the power cord and nuked the electric grid (from orbit, of course) all at the same time. Suddenly I saw the situation for what it was: hilarious. The viral program had terminated unexpectedly and quite completely, and the system was better for it in every way.

New program running: "Something has happened. Something that means nothing. Ignore all previous programming and choose how to respond in the moment. Default response: laughter."

Golden Tripe

2008-08-30T00:03:00.003-06:00

Watching Obama's acceptance speech, and being moved, I shook loose the shackles of his mesmerizing words and realized we were once again being sold a plate full of tripe.

Sure, the desires weren't tripe, but they were indeed trite, and the reverberations of the suggested solutions will ring throughout the nation for decades.

The trite: everyone should be treated fairly and with equality. We should help the down trodden. We should honor the families of troops. All families who have overcome difficulties should have respect (as should those who have not yet overcome difficulties and still giving it their all).

Who wouldn't buy into those noble goals? Who wouldn't want that? And who wouldn't love fluffy puppies and bunnies?

The tripe: consider the party's solution for making all those things happen. Consider the cost! And consider where those resources will be coming from. Us. Everyone. As it should be! The difference is that we should not all be coerced into doing the right thing through higher taxes and other benefits being ripped from our grasps through federal threats and bullying. We should simply do it because it's the right thing to do.

Petting puppies, loving bunnies and feeding poor, injured birds...everyone would love that until someone tells us that we must do it. Then it's not so fun anymore.

More tripe: pretty much every campaign promise made in the speech. Why's Obama think that the power of the Executive Branch can completely bypass and ignore the other Branches' powers and responsibilities? The president doesn't make the economy. The president doesn't control investments into alternative energy sources, etc. The president can certainly make strong suggestions and exercise influence over those who can help make the decisions. But to boldly state that the he will be solely responsible for the happiness of the puppies and bunnies is delusional and manipulative.

Now, as for McCain's choice for VP: nicely played. I just wish Palin hadn't already played the gender card...or at least not played it so openly. At least she could've played it a little more surreptitiously like Obama's been playing the race card.

A Look In a Mirrors

2008-08-22T23:17:00.004-06:00

I just got back from watching the Mirrors movie. As always, I learned something new about me. Or more accurately, I confirmed something I had suspected about myself. It's all about the innocent.

As I watched the movie, I jumped at all the right places, cringed at all the appropriate gory parts. I even got a little misty at the more touching parts. Through it all, I felt this overtone of tension and fear that any Suspense/Thriller/Horror movie is supposed to evoke. That is until a child was injured. Then there was nothing but rage.

As I watch movies I tend to really put myself in the protagonists' positions. "What would I do if it were me?" It really makes for an intense movie experience. Throughout Mirrors, there was quite a bit that I would not have done that the protagonists did, but as I projected myself into their situations, there was that overtone of fear that I mentioned earlier. And when the child was injured, all fear evaporated. There was only rage--the deadly, intense, focused determination to destroy--to annihilate--any and all things related to that which harmed the child. Mugger, psycho, demon, devil...all will quail and fall in the chaotic glow of my righteous, indignant wrath. Can't kill a demon? Watch me. Impossible to slay a devil? Tell that to its screaming, writhing, sulfurous body just before it's thrust back into the bowels of Hell.

I know, I know. It's only a movie. But hey, you can still learn something real about yourself, even if the teacher is a fantasy. Lesson: my paternal instinct is way out of control. And it's not something I'm likely to change. Because I don't want to. Because I'm right.

An Education from the Past

2008-08-16T22:36:00.002-06:00

With all due respect and gratitude to the class presidency...I just got home from my 20 year high school reunion. As you may know from my twitter account I'm clearly not one that felt or feels a need to hold onto the past. You would probably quite correctly guess that I was one of those kids that sat back with arms folded in pep rallies and assemblies, desperately wishing the event would end so they could get back to class and get the day over with. Often I sat back in the cafeteria and watched all the popular kids interacting and getting all involved in everything high school. I was invisible. Oh sure I'd interact whenever someone talked to me, but really, when did that ever happen? I never fit in. I had lots of acquaintances...very few friends. And I was alright with that.

Back to the reunion... One person talked with me, one of the "geeks" of the school. I always liked John. Not that I ever talked with him much. We exchanged the pleasantries, the gratuitous, "What're you doing now?" and we went our separate ways.

My wife and I sat at the far table with our backs to the wall, so we could watch everyone. No one talked with us. Of course we never gave them the chance. I felt uncomfortable staring at the yearbook badges we were wearing for fear of unintended insult ("What, I've changed that much!?"), and by doing so I may spark a conversation with someone I never really cared to converse with. Anyway, after a walk down memory lane led by the class president and a speech from a prestigious teacher, we invisibly sneaked out and drove home.

On the way home I shared with my wife something that came as a shock to me. I finally--finally--after 20 years understood what "school spirit" meant.

I told her I had always equated "school spirit" with "class spirit." I was never any good at making or keeping friends, so what did I care about my class? In my mind, the Class of '88 was a bunch of the cool, social kids that cared entirely too much about what was going on for a mere four years of their lives. Me? I just wanted to be left alone to do my school work, go home, and watch some cartoons...maybe play a video game and work on my computer. The occasional date was nice, too (though to be honest, those rarely came, considering I was quite obviously a rather socially backward wall flower). The future would take care of itself, much like the present does, so don't get too caught up in any of it.

We get education from the strangest places, and imagine the irony that I got it from a teacher! ...Keeping in mind this was at my 20-year reunion. Mr. Crump talked a bit about the fact that our high school was going to be celebrating its 100th year of service soon. He invited us all to join its year-long celebration. I considered going! Me! The one who couldn't care less about school spirit! That is when the distinction became very clear. School spirit is about the institution; it's about the faculty, the staff, and perhaps your friends through whose care you pass during those fleeting four years. It's not about how much bonding you do with your classmates...though that can help. It's about the legacy your brief stint creates for future alumni to appreciate and contribute to. It's about appreciating the legacy your predecessors and the current staff added to the virtual blink of an eye you are there.

My wife said, "Yeah, when they built that high school near our house, I was bummed that our kids wouldn't be able to go to our high school."

That's exactly how I felt when I learned a new high school was being built nearer us than our old high school. When I realized I felt that way a few years ago, I questioned it. Why would I feel that way? What do I care about people that I really didn't care about? What do I care about where my kids have pep rallies and social awkwardness? Tonight it came clear. Because there is, was, and always will be a little, tiny (albeit invisible) piece of me in that old high school. There will always be a love for that place, the faculty, and now new-found respect for the class presidency...and maybe even for those "flighty social butterflies" that got it long before I did.

Oh, and when you go to your next reunion, a little note from those who know: talk to those on whom you had a crush--even if you're with your spouse--or you'll regret it. Loose ends always need tying up.

Crazy Kids--As It Should Be

2008-07-31T10:07:00.001-06:00

I recently received that email about the kid getting stolen and found in the restroom with the head 1/2 shaved and a disguise kit lying on the floor. As with just about every email I receive, I looked it up in snopes. Sho' nuff, it's fake. But it still got me thinking. Given my kids' vocal strengths, and finally the okay to go ape-poop in every way, their would-be kidnappers would have their hands full...deafened, injured and otherwise embarrassed from unwanted attention. Finally...someone else gets to share in my every-day joy.

What do we tell our children? "If a bully is picking on you, just ignore him." Okay, if a mugger is threatening to cut you, just ignore him. "If a bully is picking on you, tell a teacher." Right, and if you're being chased down a dark alley, scream into the night. I'm sure you'll be fine. See where this is going?

Now, what have you told your kids about if someone is trying to steal them? "Run the other direction!" That's good, unless they run into another, worse situation. Tell them WHERE to run. "Fight back." There's a good one! Finally! Now they know what to do! But wait...what's "fight back"? Have you defined for them what "fight back" means? As may not come as a surprise...I have. "If someone is trying to steal you, you scream, kick, bite, scratch, elbow, knee, head butt, pull hair...and all in as sensitive parts as possible."

Be warned: my kids have gotten the okay to fight back. And when I say "fight back" I mean go absolutely nuts in attempts to drop the bad guy and get away. As it should be. Tonight's practice session should be fun. Incentive to check the integrity of my sparring gear....

"Out-terrorize the Terrorist"

2008-07-31T09:30:00.003-06:00

What's the best way to cure a bully? Totally disrupt your way of life to avoid him? That can work for a while. Tell the teacher? That's only temporary--and often causes an escalation of bullying. One way to cure a bully: trounce him.

You don't have to like it, but when all other avenues fail, you're left with one last path. So if you're going to walk it, walk it with gusto. Not the most ideal of situations, but if someone is harming you (intending to harm, threatening harm, etc.) he has placed himself in exactly the same situation that he put you in. He reaches for you, you strike his arm and hurt it. He pulls a gun to threaten you, you pull yours and fire it.

When the 1000 years of peace finally magically take hold on the world, we won't have to worry about such things. Until then, bully, mugger, rapist, murderer--they're all the same. And when they put themselves in that role, they put themselves in a dangerous situation. Make them proud of how much better you can play their part until the situation's over. Then change roles; go home, love your family and friends and live a stress-free life.

Blind Bleeding the Blind: Bigots Rule!

2008-07-15T12:14:00.007-06:00

I love politics. It's like a second religion for me. Like my other "religions" I know too little about them, but I still enjoy looking for and finding patterns and contradictions. Take for example the current presidential race between Barak Obama and John McCain. Thanks to the candidates' ethnicities, the racists are making themselves known quite distinctly--they're coming out of the woodwork! The problem is, they're invisible. They're cloaked in the invisibility of socially acceptable behavior.

You see, it's perfectly acceptable to denigrate and insult one race and not another. Racial slurs are acceptable, humorous and--best of all--deserved! The promotion of one race above another is lauded and loved in the government, in social circles and in communities. One can create an entire stand-up routine based solely on race. I've seen them. They're hilarous. I must have been in the right crowd because not one person got up and screamed in defiance and outrage that the jokes were inappropriate and racist. The comedians weren't humiliated nor were they virtually burned at the stake in the media following the show. In fact, they're now quite rich and famous.

That's all well and good until politics enters into it. I heard on the radio this morning that it was going to be impossible for one candidate to swing the votes of an entire group of people because the other candidate was of a particular race. I read in the news that a particular group of people that hold political views diametrically opposed to a particular candidate are having a difficult time deciding on who to vote for because of the race of that candidate. Race. Not policy. Race. Policy be damned.

Now, consider for a moment that I have not once brought up who is of what race and who is making what jokes, and who is making what decision based on race. And yet...we all know and are uncomfortable in commenting on it. The act of voicing such observations has been repressed. And while everyone notices, everyone turns a blind eye.

Racism has truly blinded us all. We truly are color blind.

Enjoy the Enjoyable

2008-07-02T08:59:00.002-06:00

Having grown up in Utah; having it made very clear that most humor is too negative or offensive or [insert reason to not enjoy life here]; wanting to pretend I was destined for high(er) society; whatever the reason, as I reached adulthood, I no longer allowed myself to enjoy--truly enjoy--the myriad jokes and senses of humor out there.

Watching funny movies would sometimes evoke a smile. A very funny movie, a chuckle. One evening, well into my young adulthood, I sat in a theater waiting for the latest comedy to start. I cast my mind back to all the other comedies I had watched in the recent past. All those movies I had sat chuckling quietly while the audience roared in laughter. I thought of the Def Comedy Jam--and other such stand-up comedy events--I noticed the audience practically throwing themselves out of their chairs in completely unrestrained gales of laughter. Sitting there, in the darkening theater I made the conscious decision to enjoy the upcoming movie; I decided to laugh out loud, to loosen whatever hold on my sense of humor my years of bad habits and erroneous beliefs had tied.

I've never enjoyed a comedy more.

Since then, I have heard quite a few statements about having a sense of humor. Some warm, some fuzzy, some sticky sweet. And some, just plain cool. From "You are never truly defeated so long as you can laugh" to "Time + Tragedy = Humor."

Don't get me wrong. I don't expect anyone to enjoy everything. That would cheapen...well...everything. I'm talking about lightening up. Enjoying the enjoyable. Unrestrained. If you enjoy, enjoy it! Enough of the fear of looking foolish as you nearly pee yourself from laughter. Look at the painting in slack-jawed (albeit unbecoming a prude) wonder. Let that tear run down your cheek as you listen to your favorite score. Stand up and cheer for the opposing team when they make that perfect play.

After that movie, after making that decision to free myself, it is easier for me to see that there is a bit of humor in just about everything. People tell me I have no sense of humor because I laugh at slapstick, puns, potty, dry, and/or cutting jokes; I hear I have no taste because I see the beauty even in the ugly. And through it all, whenever someone comments on my lack of refined taste...I just laugh.

Pero: The Hidden Cure

2008-06-30T16:27:00.004-06:00

All growing up I had friends who had problems with warts. You know, good ol' human papillomavirus. I thanked my lucky stars that I never had problems with them. Stupid lucky stars.

Warts all over the hands, growing bigger and bigger, their sight causing embarrassment and their contagion causing concern for others. There were times my wife would ask why I don't touch her. "Well, because I don't want to infect you with these bloody warts."

I burned them off. More would grow. Some grew so deep into the pads of my fingers it felt like I had a rock deep in my skin. I froze them off. Things looked good...for about a year and then more of the little buggers would appear. Duct tape, grapefruit seed extract, mojo, voodoo...nothing would get rid--and keep rid--of the little white devils.

I went to a practitioner of Chinese herbology and acupuncture. He suggested I eat a handful of boiled barley a day. Barley? Well, whatever. I've tried everything else.

In less than a month, every wart on my hands had shrunken or fallen off.

And like every other moron creating anti-biotic-resistant microbes, I stopped eating the barley too soon. They came back.

I was out of the habit of boiling the barley and eating it--so bloody inconvenient. I would boil up a mess of it, and it would rot in the fridge. Or I would boil it, forget it was on the burner and nearly burn down the house. Not very effective. But effective enough that I didn't have to deal with them for a year or so.

About a year ago, I notice little HPV tumors raising their hateful little heads all over my hands. They start as tiny innocuous bumps and grow and grow and grow. And from the numbers, it was going to be quite a crop.

I've recently taken to drinking a coffee substitute. Needless to say I've taken no end of flak from coffee lovers and coffer haters alike. (You can imagine how much their opinions effected me as I made it a point to enjoy at least one cup of Pero every morning.) What does this have to do with warts? Well, what does barley have to do with warts?? That's what I want to know! Not that it matters. What matters is it works.

You see, I enjoy this Pero. And Pero is made out of malted barley, barley, chicory and rye. You know all those pre-wart bumps? Gone. And I've only been drinking this stuff for just under a month. I think this time I'll thumb my wart-free nose at my friends and just continue drinking this stuff until all vestiges of HPV is eradicated from this body, and certainly longer. And if the warts come back...well...they better watch out. I have Pero and I'm not afraid to drink it!

What Would YOU Think?

2008-06-12T00:01:00.003-06:00

Your brother-in-law calls the credit union at which your mom works. He puts in a request to close the account and send all money in it to him. Later he calls and your mom answers and he asks when he can get his money. She tells him that it likely got mailed soon after his initial call, and can she talk to her daughter--and he hangs up on her.

Mind you, this is the brother-in-law who is very emotionally abusive to your sister's kids--well, except for the one he sired--and has said he would leave her and her boys and take his boy.

Your mom thinks it's rather strange, and calls you. You concur about the strangeness and decide to call your sister. There's no answer. You call her home. Busy signal. You call your brother-in-law and when he answers you ask if you can talk to your sis--he hangs up.

Further attempts at calling meet no response.

You send a text message asking what's going on...no response. You text your brother-in-law who responds with extremely abusive, aggressive replies. You text your sister, instructing her to call so everyone knows she's alright. You receive no response from your sister and further abusive text messages from your brother-in-law, who, by the way, responds to your threat to call the cops with, "call them." Finally who you're expected to believe is your sister responds...with a text message...that says, "I'm fine."

Did you over-react by calling the cops? Did you over-react by texting your sister to "prove it: call Mom"?

This is why I've lived a sheltered life. So I can fully more appreciate the drama I've married into.

Because We're All So Blind

2008-04-21T23:33:00.003-06:00

I must be missing something. What is the real reason the Texas government needs DNA samples from all the kids they kidnapped? Aside from only one other weak reason, I can think that it's only because they need more leverage against that community's First Amendment rights.

I mean, really. If a child is pregnant or has been sexually assaulted, you do like you did in the past: go after the perpetrators--the leaders, the "husbands". No need for DNA in that case...unless it's the DNA of the babies to find who sexually assaulted the child carrying or bearing the baby. But to take DNA samples of the children who have been assaulted...what does that give? Only one thing: evidence against those practicing their religion. You find out whose kid is whose, prove that a father sired more than one child with more than one woman. Prove that the man and women considered themselves married and, Bingo! Someone who broke the law--the unconstitutional law. (You know, because it's illegal to be married to more than one woman, but it's perfectly fine to screw around otherwise.)

Again the disclaimer: because I write these posts does not mean I condone what the FLDS idiots do. It means I can see where those who want only to live their religion and keep every other actually constitutional law are in dire danger of being illegally attacked based on current events' precedents.

And now a word to those whose First Amendment rights have been infringed upon: if you want to marry someone, don't marry a child, you morons! Especially if you want to be left alone to practice your religion. But now it's too late. Idiots.

I'm a Bigot, You're a Bigot (Part I)

2008-04-18T09:10:00.005-06:00

You know...I hear that there's a Mexican family out in West Valley, UT that beats their children nightly and puts them in cages. We need to lock down that city and seize all Mexican kids for their own protection!

Hmm...no sirens.

It's a proven fact that there's a Laotian family out in Taylorsville that has a daughter that was beaten to death. Clearly we must rush in there and put all Laotian children under protective custody, no matter who they may be!

...no vans.

Well, geez. It's a proven fact that the Catholic Church has allowed many, many of the clergy to sexually abuse children. The only possible response is to seize all children from that church and from the homes of the people that so callously allowed it to happen!

...still no sirens. No arbitrary mass kidnapping. No illegal search and seizure. Strange.

...and yet it's alright to do in Texas...?

It Is the Handoff That Binds Us

2008-04-05T00:30:00.006-06:00

Parked in the drive-through space at a fast food restaurant, I was listening to the radio, waiting for the poor slob who worked there to take my plastic for payment. The radio spewed its NPR drivel, something about Iraq or the economy or the Democratic race, and I listened intently. Of course I occasionally shook my head or made a snide remark about the content, once again (or still) disdaining much of the human race as a whole.

I caught some motion from the left side of the car. The anonymous high school student--clearly working the fast food drive up window because hey, it pays the bills--reached out to accept my plastic money. I brought the card to his hand, and he smoothly accepted it, processed it and handed it back to me. I'm sure he didn't notice my reaction at the initial hand-off. I was stunned. Suddenly, I liked this kid! I realized how close he and I were for those two tiny moments it took to pass the card from hand to hand. We were momentarily symbiotes.

Consider if you will the abject intricacy, beauty and elegance that is the human body. Think about the fact that just to pick up a card, more than 100 muscles are at work, and to do anything more complex with that card takes at least 50 more. 150 muscles working in perfect harmony to move my hand with the credit card in it to the window. Millions and millions of synapses firing in exquisite precision and timing to energize and enervate exactly the correct muscles at precisely the right time.

As if that wasn't enough, I was also acutely aware that the nearly countless things that my body had to do, the kid behind the open windows had to do, too. Nerves firing, muscles flexing and relaxing; a perfect, beautiful harmony of motion and energy and timing. His fingers grasped the card at precisely the same moment that my fingers released it. For that one moment, the awe-inspiring number of things going on as we both moved merged into a veritable symphony of synergistic will and coordination.

I smiled at him as he handed me my food, but he was already talking to his headset, taking the next order and closing the window, preparing for the next order.

I drove off, a little less judgmental about...well about everything. I realized that that tiny moment happens every single day. Any and all kinds of interaction we have with each other is a perfect example of symbiosis, of oneness...even in our attempts to destroy each other.

It became clear to me...again...and in a different way...we are all connected. Not just we humans, but everything. We all make up one massive, symbiotic being, moving harmoniously toward a common goal (utter annihilation or peace--we'll decide as we go), hurtling through space toward who-knows-what. Perhaps a thousand years of peace?

Give a Dad a Trance!

2008-02-29T20:20:00.004-07:00

I followed the nurse into the nursery to watch as she took my new baby's vitals. Ever vigilant to the comings and goings of people around me, I broke my gaze from the baby and watched a nurse wheeling a new baby into the nursery, the baby's dad following closely. The nurse walked away to fill out some paperwork and the new father stood close by the bassinet, staring down at the mewling man cub. His demeanor was a study. He stood with hands half-in and half-out of the bassinet as though not quite sure what to do with them. He was grinning a half grin and his eyes had a far away look to them as he took in the entirety of a massive beauty in a tiny bundle of new life.

I thought, "Man, that guy looks a bit goofy." And yet I couldn't help but feel a strange kinship with him. Then I took my hands out of my pockets...and put them back in as I turned back to gaze at my new baby. I was only vaguely aware of a goofy grin and a slight discomfort at not knowing quite what to do as I stared down at a tiny bundle of wondrous life and energy.

Another connection to a perfect stranger. Not the baby...the other dad in a state of wonder and nearly drooling from awe.

Why Appearances Don't Matter

2008-02-22T17:04:00.004-07:00

So I spend an extra few minutes in the restroom, making sure my face is free of debris and my nose is free of...debris. You see, I was planning on going to the System's Architect to ask a question, and I wanted the focus to be on what I was saying, not on what about my face was distracting him. Satisfied, I went to the SA, asked my question, got the answer, and just couldn't figure out why he was grinning.

On my way back to my cubicle, I sensed something was definitely not right. Sure enough, the fly was undone. It must have been the breeze. Whatever it was, it became crystal clear that appearances--no matter how important they are to others--are completely the wrong focus; I'm clearly always going to have something distracting going on. Boog--uh...nose detritus, zits, dried skin, cowlicks, impressive gut, undone zippers.... And people wonder why my preferred method of communication is electronic.

The Winds of Change Blow

2008-02-08T14:27:00.000-07:00

Everyone wants change. Everyone fears change, but everyone wants change. Change is good. The desire for change is good. But when everyone wants change and no one has any idea what kind of change they want, everyone has proven themselves foolish.

Calling for change without thinking about what change you're talking about; calling for change without thought regarding what change the current path will bring about is a warm, moist breeze through a foul bog. It's worthless and it stinks.

Calling for change is the lazy man's way of showing discomfort with how things are. It's wishes on the wind. It's diseased, meaningless nonsense wafting from fool to fool, a contagious madness infecting those who can't seem to focus on exactly what changes they want.

Fine. Be discontent. But don't sit on your thumbs complaining. Have something in mind. Work for a goal. If the goal creates change, then mission accomplished. But wanting change for change's sake without knowing what you're after is just dumb.

Politicians and their sheep should stop talking about change and start talking about goals. Everyone calls for change. Everyone wants change. It's the easy thing to talk about. But hey, easy is the American way. Or at least it should be, if the government would get off their butts and start doing everything for us. Almost there. Almost there.

Strike, Strike, Strike!

2008-01-11T09:12:00.000-07:00

I have no pity for anyone in the entertainment industry. They all "earn" entirely too much money. That being said, the writers are right. They should get a piece of the ridiculously large pie of the sale of their stuff, no matter the medium--internet, theater, DVD, whatever. That being said, I hope the strike continues. Don't get me wrong, I love my shows. House. 24. Bones. The Unit. Etc. Rest in peace, because since the strike, I and my family have watched less TV than...well...ever, and everything seems to be getting better at home. Kids are getting more interested in coloring, games (not even video games!), and all other things not-TV. I'm getting more work done. It's beautiful.

Eventually, studios will be losing money because there will be nothing for people to watch. How nice would it be that the ridiculously obscene amounts of money made by entertainment media that encourage vegetative states be spent on...say...sports gear? Would that be so bad?

Expect the Unexpected

2008-01-07T10:37:00.000-07:00

Until you have established rules of behavior, expecting someone to behave a certain way is foolishness. Indeed, it's its own perfect example of a little tyranny.

There's a reason people train in protocol. It establishes a set of rules of behavior that everyone can agree upon in order to accomplish a particular goal. Once this is done, those who break protocol can quite accurately anticipate a negative reaction from those with whom they've set protocol. If no protocol is set, there is no reason to be annoyed, offended, etc.

The placing of expectations on others is foolish. It is establishing protocol that people don't know about. It is unfair.

When you get offended because someone didn't do as your expectations dictate, take a deep breath and say, "Well, that was unexpected," and then deal with it!

People are going to disappoint you. They are going to do what you don't expect them to do. Inevitably they will do what you think is inappropriate, especially when they're unaware of your individual expectations. (And just so you know, even when they are aware of your individual expectations, can you really expect them to keep track of your very own, pet protocols? Likely, you're not the only individual in their life.)

I've recently heard a saying that, while unfortunate, rings very true. The gist was when people do something, it's not about you, it's about them. It is therefore extremely unlikely that whatever they did was calculated to offend. It's far more likely they did it because they thought it was the right thing to do at the time. So chill out. Stop falling into that same trap and understand one thing: if you expect others to consider you, consider them, even when they don't consider you.

The Golden Rule is not "Be offended when people do unto you as you don't expect others to." It's just a bit more selfless.

Expect others to act unexpectedly. Adapt. Accept. Enjoy. Repeat as necessary.

Lessons Learned from 24

2007-11-30T22:23:00.000-07:00

I sit here watching Season 3 of 24. I love this show. As I watch I put myself in each of the characters' places and wonder, "What would I do in this situation."

If you're a 24-phile like me, you'll remember the episode in which Jack has to kill his boss in order to prevent the terrorist from releasing a weaponized virus to kill millions of Americans. I'm filled with rage and disgust. One person--or one organization--holds an entire country hostage by threat of violence and/or death. Yes, this is just a story; fiction written to engross the viewers. But, as always, I look for solutions for these not-incredible-enough problems in the real world.

Consider, though, that my rage is not at the characters being manipulated by the terrorist. I want to scream at the TV that it doesn't matter if Jack kills his boss. The terrorist is still a terrorist and can't be trusted except to put himself in a situation which puts the victims at an even worse position. Don't cave. Don't do what the terrorist says. No matter what. No matter what. "Drop the gun or I'll kill him/her." "Oh, okay. I'll drop the gun and watch you blow me and/or him/her away anyway. Great idea." I'm not mad at Jack. I'm not mad at the president.

Let's suppose the terrorist releases the virus. If the president were to saturate the media with orders to the citizens to stay in their homes, that should take care of the problem, right? I mean with the population holing up in their homes, exposure and therefore deaths would be minimized, right? Terrorists don't get their way, except for the few who might catch just the wrong waft of a breeze, casualties minimized, life goes on, right? Wrong. American citizens are morons. They're sheep. They're dumb, panicky idiots, self-absorbed and selfish, without the sense or cajones to protect themselves. Worse, they lack the sense or benevolence--they lack the integrity and courage--to protect others. Should such an order come from the president, we all know what would happen. People would rebel, they'd think they knew better than the president. "We're not the president's slaves! We have rights!" They'd go out, get infected, infect their loved ones and others, and as they die a horrible death, as they watch their loved ones die because of their stupidity, they curse God and the president for putting them in that situation.

Perhaps I'm being prejudiced. But I look around and I see...us. I see our behavior. I see our predilections, and I weep for when a terrorist attack hits us in the Homeland.

Harsh? Yes. Am I overlooking those who don't fit this profile? Sure. But do those who would show the integrity, the will, the courage to do what's necessary actually be able to do it? Or have we seen one too many gun lain down on TV at the behest of an actor-terrorist? Can we override our programming that there are certain things that are socially unacceptable and therefore should never be done? Can we step up and do the hard thing for the right reason? Even if it's as benign as staying in our homes to minimize the damage of a terrorist attack? Even if it's as harsh as blowing away the bad guy...after he's followed through with his promise?

I love this show....

Eaten Alive by Plenty

2007-11-12T11:10:00.000-07:00

We pay entertainers insane amounts of money and watch our teachers starve.

We pay athletes sickening amounts of money and watch our police officers barely survive.

We give politicians and lobbyists ridiculous amounts of money and allow the fine men and women in our armed services to live and die in terrible circumstances with barely a sincere nod.

We take and take and find other opportunities to take with only the slightest pretend acknowledgment given to those who supply us with what we're taking.

We consume and burn and pollute and only now we pretend to care about what we're doing to the earth that gives us our very lives--because now it's popular to care.

We read the writing on the wall and believe the earth is on the fast track for destruction. Call it God's wrath, call it man's stupidity and selfishness, call it the devil's last stand. Call it what you will, only we have the ability to change. We change us, we change the world. But when even our concern for others is born of a need to be richer; more popular; more revered; more than someone else, you can bet we will fail. And we will deserve it.

Wrong Even When Right

2007-11-02T08:51:00.000-06:00

The kids' school bus was late again this morning. Fourth time in as many weeks. Kids standing out in freezing temperatures for 45 minutes. Of course, this on the very morning my wife and I got into an argument wherein I said it doesn't matter if they don't wear heavy coats; they'll learn to dress warm if they get a little bit cold. As it turns out, "a little bit cold" ended up being, "Mom, I think I got frost bite. My fingers hurt really bad."

Once again I forgot to consider the mistakes of others in my calculations. And of course, chalk one up for the wife. You know, because she needs another one chalked up.

Torn Apart By Evil Beings

2007-10-31T13:00:00.000-06:00

For years I've thought Halloween was a ridiculous holiday. Boy was I right. And wrong.

Halloween. All Hallow's Eve. Whatever its name, whatever it was, it's a melting pot of a bunch of celebrations. A celebration of the harvest; a celebration of a season; a celebration of death--wait. A celebration of death? Well, yes. And what's wrong with that? Exactly nothing. Death is as much a part of life as...well...life. But that's not the point (for this blog). The point is I never liked Halloween because it seemed to be a celebration of evil. (I was an avid worshiper of life and all things living, equating death with evil.) Then as I grew older and became the over-protective father that I am, I realized that I wanted to save the wee ones from the dangers of psycho candy-givers...and of being sickened by being over-sugared. Stupid holiday. Poisoning my kids with sweet-tooth-induced greed spurred on and born of the worship of evil.

I can be quite judgmental. No, really! You see, I began despising the holiday what with all that's required to enjoy it. The work, the scheduling, the corporal punishment...the celebration not of death, but of evil. (Of course this was when I decided that death wasn't evil, but evil was.)

This morning I drove to work, envious of my wife who was able to go to my kids' costume parades in their various schools. I looked forward to trick or treating with my kids. I laughed in the face of evil when I realized that when people dress up as their favorite psycho, their favorite devil, their beloved demon it could be looked upon not as a celebration of evil, but as a dispelling of evil.

Imagine, if you will, the last time someone acted like you, making a silly looking charicature of your appearance and behavior. Everyone laughed. You laughed. And you were powerless against them because they were right. That is how you look. It is how you behave. ...or near enough.

Laugh in the face of evil. Overcome evil with good. Or, as I have begun to believe, no one truly has control over you so long as you retain the ability to laugh. I dislike the idea of allowing anyone or anything control over me. And what could make anyone or anything feel powerless more than laughter at them? Even that which is evil.

It DOES Matter If It's Black or White!

2007-10-19T15:51:00.000-06:00

Everything is black or white. If you're waffling and you think you're looking into a gray area, your perception is a bit off and you should look a little closer. You'll find that that big, scary, paralyzing gray area is actually made up of little black and white dots. Look at the dots. Are there more black or more white dots? When you decide, look at the whole problem again. It is no longer gray. Scale as necessary.

IRS == Greedy, Manipulative Bastards

2007-10-13T10:31:00.000-06:00

Alright, so the Acronym is a bit off. (IRS != GMB...but close enough!)

I'm sure this post could likely cause me grief in the future. I mean, it is talking about the single most powerful and single most corrupt system in the country.

So, early 2007, my accountant does my taxes. Everything is groovy. The following year, I receive a document from your friendly federal rapists. "You owe us $1,000. If you disagree, tell us why and we'll get back to you."

The accountant looks through the forms. Yep. They're wrong. He sends proof which the Infernal Raping Service confirms they received on April 23, 2007. (We moved pretty fast on this, since we were stressing about money at the time, and another $1k hit was a bit...disheartening.)

SIX months later they get back to us. "You still owe us $1,000 because we re-did your taxes for you. Oh, and because you still haven't paid, you now owe us an additional $131--because we're required by law to charge it."

Can anyone else see the problem here? They take months and months to finally respond, and charge us more money because they're so bloody slow. And further...they didn't change their tune. ...and their tune is incomprehensible. When I read statements like, "Since we changed your income and tax, we also changed the amount of your credit..." how can I not be suspicious? How is this not confirmation that this organization has entirely too much power?

I find myself drifting into the mindset of the victim of a terrorist. Well, if I pay it, all this will just go away. Then I snap out of it and enter an affronted rage. Terrorist? Never, ever do what a terrorist tells you to do. Promises of the removal of a threat if you comply is a lie; it's the act of a terrorist. Besides, I don't like being manipulated. Who does, really?

So, of course, the accountant is going to get a copy of this notice, since it's written in jargon that only an accountant can understand. (God forbid that anyone writes something that can be understood by the layman. I mean, if they did write it that way, the layman wouldn't be paying an accountant to take care of it, and that accountant wouldn't be giving away his income taxes to this disgusting behemoth.) Clearly, the accountant is going to argue it more. Obviously the IRS is going to be right--even if they're not--and six months later we're going to have to pay more interest because of their lack of alacrity. But really, what incentive do they have for being speedy if they can charge us money for their response time? Sorry, ...if they are "required by law to charge" us money for their response time.

I'll be the first to admit that it's likely not the IRS's fault. After all, they are just enforcing policy as handed down by the government. Perhaps, if they weren't "required by law" to rape us for their missing speed, they would understand that they were slow, and it was their fault that it took so long, so they wouldn't charge us that ridiculous "interest." So, what does that tell us about our policy makers? I mean besides the fact that they are obviously the single most powerful and single most corrupt system in the country. Sorry. My thesis statement was a bit off up there.

Time to simplify the tax code. Enough of the elitist, dictatorial, monarchic caste system that our forefathers ran away from so many years ago. Incomprehensible tax law, favoring the rich, oppressing the poor. Let's hear it for a flat tax! Everyone pays the same amount. It's fair. It's simple. It's quick. The obvious draw back is that it wouldn't legitimize the caste system, thereby making the rich richer and the poor poorer. Dang. Hadn't thought of that....

Conspiracy Theory 13a

2007-10-11T16:53:00.000-06:00

Democrats can't cut off funding for the military without looking like the bad guys. So they bring as much negative attention as possible to all the outsourced security in the country who are taking up the military's slack. Mercenaries get kicked and the already tenuous handle the military has on its staffing issues is destroyed. Spread too thin to handle established missions and security concerns, military must come home. Democrats win. Iraqi people and military missions lose.

Adventures In Linux 7/16/2007

2007-07-16T23:10:00.000-06:00

It's only taken me and my brother a combined total of 16 man hours to figure out the following, so...pay attention!

When attempting to install Samba on Fedora Core 6 box make sure that you have opened up the SELinux setting to "Allow Samba to share users home directories." Or at least "Allow Samba to share nfs directories." This is prevent the maddening "Network access is denied" or the involuntary-ripping-of-one's-hair "Network path not found" messages.

In Retrospect....

2007-06-13T08:56:00.000-06:00

I was right. And I was wrong. The day was good. And it was terrible. Wonderful lesson. Fallen angel. Strange decisions. Wonderful lesson.

We Must All Have Dreams

2007-06-11T22:45:00.000-06:00

Nightmares are dreams....

As I think upon the coming morn, I feel as though I anticipate a familiar, wretched dream.

I love my life.

I need more sleep.

I Was Set Up! ...By Myself

2007-04-19T21:07:00.000-06:00

Let there be no mistake. I am an idiot. No, no, don't argue with me. It's true. Let it be known, when my house is robbed and I'm stripped of all material belongings, it's because I'm an idiot.

Seriously, how much training do I need, how many warnings can I get, how often do I have to remind myself and others how easily we give away information that can only cause us pain?

Consider for a moment how many people know our phone numbers. How many times have you gone to your favorite grocery store and been asked, "Do you have a Fresh Discounts card?" Of course your wonder card is sitting...somewhere that's not with you. "That's alright. What's your phone number?" You're a bit focused on getting your goods out of your cart or your wallet out of your pocket or your checkbook out of your purse, and you tell them. Clearly you're too busy to notice the dude in the line behind you scratching something on what surely must be his shopping list.

Think about how often you call into your bank and they ask what your birthday is...and the last 4 of your Social? ...and your mother's maiden name...? As you answered, did you bother to look over your shoulder at your co-worker all-too-innocently jotting something on his sticky-pad?

When you got out of your car to run into the store, how many people walking past the passenger side window got a good look at your address posted all nice and prettily on your power bill you carelessly threw there?

Paranoid? No. Just aware. These are all no-brainers. And yet...all it takes is one stupid move to give away all your marbles without once squatting around that circle.

...and star wipe to a couple weeks ago....

My wife has this great idea to get our house appraised so we can finally get rid of our PMI. (OhI hated the PMI with its wee beady eyes...but I digress.) We pay someone $150 and we have a goodly amount of money per month no longer being legally stolen but going toward our house's principal. What an excellent idea. (She's a genius.)

We place the call. We pay the $150. We get a call, "Hi, this is Andrea. I'm going to be doing the appraisal on your house." Excellent! Man, that was quite fast! "Alright, I'll be there Friday." (Of course "Andrea" was very insistent that it be done in a very short amount of time. Strange? Yes, but hey, the sooner the better so we can start paying off the house a bit faster.)

Friday rolls around. It's 1300 hours. I take a late lunch and wait for the appraiser. She's a bit late, but no problem. She walks up to the door, a camera in hand and flip-flops on feet. Not exactly what I'm used to with house appraisers, but...I'm not really used to house appraisers.

She introduces herself...no handshake or anything--which I did find odd, but I'm not really a touchy-feely person, so I was alright with it--takes off her flip-flops and pads around the house barefoot, snapping pictures of each of the rooms. I'm tagging along, flipping on lights for her, excusing the mess, chatting about all the cool things we've done with the house, trying to drive up the price. I find it very strange that she's not paying much attention to what I was saying, so I grow a bit silent and begin wondering about what she was doing. She must have read my mind because she said, "I take pictures so when I'm writing my report I have them to remind me of things." Sounds...almost...not...quite reasonable. She takes pictures of every room, goes out front, snaps pictures of the front of the house, then goes around to snap some of the back. Then she's gone.

It was a strange experience and I thought very little of it. Alright, that's not true. It was all very strange, and my mind kept replaying it. Of course, when the mind does such things, it's time to pay attention to it. I did. And it all came crashing home. I'll get back to this in a moment.

...star wipe to yesterday....

I've always been all sorts of into alternative healing methods. One of my friends sent to me an email and said via instant messenger, "You should check out this email. It's pretty scary." Of course I was interested so I looked at the email. It had a warning about the FDA doing still more stuff to finagle, coerce, and otherwise weasel their way into wresting away our rights to choose alternative methods of healing. Something seemed fishy about it, and I was busy at work, so I chose to look at it later, because it linked to a site that seemed to be of rather...unimpressive design and functionality.

The following day (that would be today), I get an email from another friend. It held a strange link that, when I foolishly followed it, took me to what appeared to be the very same site that my other friend's email linked to. Alright, two friends of rather intelligent and discriminative minds sending me the same link...? There's got to be something to this.

I hurriedly (I was still at work) fill out a form that presumably is used to generate an email that is sent presumably to people who are presumably legislators. "First Name, Last Name, Dear so-and-so, please pretend like you give a damn about my rights...blah blah blah...Send. Alright, back to work."

Then it hit me. SCAM! And if not a scam...well even if it wasn't a scam, I did something amazingly stupid and put my first and last name on a form with my address--the address to my home--and email address and submitted it. I deserve every last bit, nibble, byte and megabyte of spam email I'm sure I'm going to be getting. And that's the least of the damage I believe I have caused by filling out that stupid form. Someone out there now knows entirely too much about me. And I gave it to them! Idiot.

I got a letter in the mail today. The appraisers received our money and are still waiting for us to schedule an appraisal...an appraisal that was completed a week ago. My fears that hit me upside the head not nearly as hard as they should have as I was driving back to work are now partially confirmed. My fears: those pictures were an illegal inventory of everything we have in our house. They are pictures of the security measures we have deployed outside and in. (I can't even trust they'd be cowed by my dogs, considering I introduced her to them.)

I say again, when my house is robbed and I am stripped of all my material possessions, I need remember only one thing: I'm an idiot. Then as I try and rebuild everything, work on putting food on the table, explain to my family why everything is gone, I will remember...it's perfectly alright to confront people, or sites, or anything you feel unsure about. Sometimes lessons must be learned the hard way. Even lessons with which you're intimately familiar.

Now, consider how much information I've given you about myself. Now shake your head, call me an idiot and secure your information!

Black Listed Companies 12/28/2006

2006-12-28T14:06:00.000-07:00

onetouchcanopener.com

I don't know how good the product is just yet, since I'm still in the process of dealing with an order snafu. However, my experience with the company has been absolute misery. Once I finally chose the can opener that seemed the best for me, I was forced to go through a number of other pages asking me if I wanted to add to the order. Granted, there was something I wanted in all those pages, but really, what a pain! I'd think that if they were offering more stuff, that stuff would appear in their online catalog...which, by the way, doesn't exist, except in the form of a number of pages you have to go through to get to the checkout page.

Summary: shopping experience was like being taken by the scruff of the neck and forced to look at each item in the grocery store by a rather brutish geek.

When I finally got to the checkout page, since I was in a huge hurry to finish the process, I just clicked through everything to get to the order confirmation page. The order confirmation page read, "You've been sent a confirmation email." I have yet to see that email. Which doesn't seem all that annoying...until you read further.

Summary: extremely slow online ordering process.

Christmas comes and goes and I see no delivery. And still no email. So as not to disappoint the receiver of the would-be gift, I ordered again, thinking perhaps I had imagined I'd seen the confirmation page, mixing up the countless other order confirmation pages I'd seen through the weeks. When the next order confirmation page came up, the organization and presentation of the page was exactly like one I'd seen before. So, I knew for sure I'd seen it before. And if I'd seen it before, it's obvious I now had two orders in the works...maybe.

Summary: sketchy online ordering confirmation process.

I searched around on their site for a way to contact them, thinking there was a real-time way to do so. Nope. Call this number during these hours. Luckily it was during those special hours. I dial the number. I get a busy signal. Busy for 15 minutes. Finally I connect. It's a phone operator with quite a thick Middle-Eastern accent. I ask what the situation is with my order. "Yes, we have your order, it's going to be shipped very soon." Very soon. "Very soon." Ha. (Read on.) I ask him to read the order back to me. He reads the first order I placed. I ask him about the second order. He asks when I placed that order. I said, "About ten minutes ago." He asks me to call back in about two business days because that information is not in his system yet.

Summary: Hello? Automation? Computers? Instant information pathways? IT?
Summary II: while I appreciate the hard working spirit and the skills of others learning English as a second language so they can improve themselves and their situations, I abhor having to figure out how I can communicate with such people; picking through obfuscating accents; getting my point--that might not fit their scripts--across!

Very soon he said. As I recalled the second time through the ordering process (when I wasn't feeling quite as rushed) the shipping details read something like, "Ships from 1 to 4 weeks...unless you pay another $x--then it'll ship in 1 to 2 weeks." One to four weeks!? One to two weeks!? Come ON. Postage isn't that difficult. Unless it's shipping from over seas (and even then!) one to four weeks!?

Summary: one to four weeks!?

As I was casting my mind back to the other screens I'd just blown by I realized that for a can opener and 4 flashlights (the forced-impulse buy I fell into) the shipping charges were more than $33.

Summary: $33 shipping for something that can fit in a box smaller than your office's wastebasket...? I can only guess that this stuff must be coming from overseas and the company is having us pay the bribe money necessary to get the goods off port.

Three days later (I wanted to give their ridiculously slow system a chance) I call back. I get a fax tone on their 1-800 number. I call back again. Fax tone. I call back again...ah, a nice, friendly "[We want you to believe that] your call is important to us" message and am on perma-hold. 15 minutes later an operator answers my quite obviously important call with that familiar Middle-Eastern accent. "Thank you for calling. Can I help you." I tell him I want to check the status of one order and cancel another. "Thank you for calling. Can I help you?" I repeat myself. Silence. For like 3 minutes...silence. "Thank you for calling. Can I help you?" I repeat myself again...but before I can finish I'm disconnected.

Summary: customer service systems are very disappointing.

I call the 1-800 number again. Fax tone. For the next 15 minutes I'm calling that number. Fax tones. I start alternating the 1-800 number and the 508 area code number they offer. Fax tone. "The person is unavailable." Fax tone. "The person is unavailable." Finally I get a nice, friendly, lying computer voice telling me how important my call is to them.

Summary: customer service systems are exceeding asinine.

10 minutes later (hey! better than the previous 15!) I get that familiar Middle Eastern accent, but it's a different guy this time. I tell him I'd like to check the status of my order and cancel the newer order. "Your order will ship very soon." I thank him and tell him I'd like to cancel the newer order. "Your order will ship very soon." (See Summary II in the fourth bullet.) I ask him to tell me which orders he has in the system. "Thank you. Is there something else I can do for you?" I ask him again to tell me how many orders I have in the system. "You have two orders." I tell him I'd like to cancel the most recent order. "The order you made first will ship very soon." I tell him I'd like to cancel the order I made a couple of days ago. "Okay. Can I ask why?" I explain the situation about my thinking that the order hadn't been filled. "Okay. Please hold." I hold. "Okay, your order has been cancelled."

Summary: good effort. Please, for the love of all that's holy, find someone who speaks English in your customer-facing jobs!!

In short: onetouchcanopeners...while the product might be great (which apparently I won't know for another 1 to 3 weeks), the rest of the experience ensures this company's long-time inclusion in my Black List.

War Isn't Hell, It's Insanity

2006-08-11T23:58:00.000-06:00

War isn't hell, it's insanity.

I just got done watching We Were Soldiers again, with Mel Gibson and Sam Elliott again. (I love those actors!) What a show. Once again I marveled at how absolutely insane people must be to actually go to war, especially a war that from all appearances was little other than a series of experimentations.

"Let's see how well it works, our landing people into battle fields on helicopters. Oh, gosh. They're completely overrun and surrounded. Exactly as plann--er...um...well darn it, they got themselves into this mess, let them get themselves out of it!"

Or course, we all know all the rest of the tragedy that came of the idiocy and insanity that followed that experiment.

In any case, as I watched this time I actually allowed my mind to not get so sucked into the movie that I imagined myself in that situation (as I do with just about everything I view or read). I could watch with at least a semblance of a critical mind, thinking about how I'd do things very differently on a tactical scale; thinking about how likely I would be to hunt down every politician that played games with the lives of me and my men.... Okay, okay, so there were times I was sucked in. Even so, I ended up thinking about how anyone not forced into a war through an actual need to defend one's self (country), or through a need to eliminate an imminent threat through a pre-emptive attack is absolutely, unequivocally insane--let alone those who perpetrated the actions that required a war-like response.

Don't misunderstand me. I've done what my time and finances have allowed to train in ways of death and destruction, and at the same time I learn how important it is that we treat everyone with reason, kindness and selflessness (until we're taught by that "everyone's" actions that they are no longer worthy of such treatment). The simple reason is this: your selfish actions, your intent to harm and/or get gain without the intent of helping as many parties as possible must be neutralized. You know this. And yet you persist in these actions. This is insane.

What would anyone do to a social animal that has suddenly begun treating its fellow creatures as nothing but a source of sustenance, a source of emotional satisfaction through unprovoked violence? You would have no other choice but to neutralize it. The insanity of the sick social animal must be neutralized. And damn it for perpetuating its insanity through requiring others to do unto it as it has done unto others to bring balance back into the environment.

So, in the movie, Lt. Colonel Hal Moore has this wonderful idea of how to take back control of the situation. He charges up the hill through the enemy's attempt at throwing "everything they had" at the Americans. The idea works. The enemy is wholly surprised. The Americans reach the enemy HQ where there are lots and lots of guns and reinforcements. It doesn't look good for the Americans. Just before the enemy can open fire, a helicopter with some seriously cool guns mounted on it opens up and cuts the enemy to ribbons.

I was stunned at my reaction. I was part exultant, part disgusted. I could not have been happier that "the good guys" won, and I was made almost nauseated by the death and destruction--the insanity--visited on the enemy. That that had to happen in order to save some more lives--on both sides--is insane.

To have to kill thousands upon thousands of people in order to save millions upon millions of people might seem logical, but it isn't. It's insane. Saving people by killing people? It's not logical. It may be accurate, but it's not logical. It's insane. It may be necessary because it's accurate, but it's really insane. Destroying near-countless lives in a couple of flashes in order to end World War II, while necessary and effective, was simply crazy.

Understand that I am all for war. I am all for visiting such horrible, complete, unutterable death and destruction upon an enemy such that neither they nor any future would-be enemies would consider doing anything like what caused such horrendous visitations never, ever again on anyone. And damn them for requiring me to enter a state of insanity and inflict such wounds on the fabric of existence.

I say again, we are social creatures. Social creatures that do well in the wild typically will do something to aid others in their social circles. In a not-too-difficult-to-see perspective we are all in the same social circle. If you are unkind or in any other way responsible for actions that in any way harm another human being (undeservedly), you are a sick, insane animal and need to be put down. And when you are put down, don't be surprised. Expect it. It's going to happen. It needs to happen. And when such retribution is perpetrated by someone who enjoys doing it, or who thinks it an intellectual exercise, damn them and their insanity.

Let me sum up. Be nice. Don't be crazy. If for no other reason than you really don't know how crazy your would-be victim can get....

Rather reminds me of an instance at the gym. I'm working out, life is good. I get to a point in the workout that I need a particular piece of equipment. Of course, someone's on it. I wait for them. They get up, eventually, and walk toward the drinking fountain. I ask, "Are you done there?"

He puffs up and squares his rather impressive shoulders at me and growls, "Yeah!" with an unspoken disprespect and all-but-direct challenge.

My first reaction was amazement that he would behave so aggressively to me due to my not having done anything offensive that I knew of. This was quickly replaced by complete irritation. I've trained in various martial arts for more than 1/2 my life. There was no question in my mind that I could have taken this muscle-bound mental patient apart in less time than he could've puffed up his chest again. And yet he treated me unkindly. Of course, the logic missing there was that he could not have possibly known what I was capable of, so why would he have treated me with respect and/or kindness? Well, for the simple fact that he had no idea of what I was capable.

Lesson: be nice. You never know when the guy you just pissed off is carrying a nuke. If you can't be nice, consider yourself insane and get checked out at the nearest asylum. If you can't admit you have an insanity problem, do not be startled or surprised when someone visits such insanity on you as you've never conceived of. And be glad it happened; the herd is now a bit safer, a bit more balanced, a bit more able to get along and play nicely.

Adventures In Home Improvement (8/3/2006)

2006-08-03T22:10:00.000-06:00

Screwing a Chair
My home office chair just decided to up and nearly deposit me on the floor backward last week. I thought it was just the reclining lever that popped out without my permission again. But instead of nearly depositing me on the floor directly backward, this was a bit different. I nearly fell over my left shoulder. Closer inspection revealed that one of the screws in the arm of the chair--which coincidentally was about 1/4 of the support of the chair's back--had been shorn. It was broken. Screwed, as it were.

I figured I had put it off too long today, and went to the hardware store, broken screw in-hand. Rather, the part of the broken screw that wasn't still screwed into the...well, screw hole.

I found a nut that went onto the screw nicely and figured I'd found the correct threading for the screw, and using the nut chose out two nice shiny new bolts of differing lengths (I wasn't sure if the original had been 1" or 3/4") and of course the nut, just in case.

Back in the office I drilled out the bolt that remained in the chair. I did what I could to make the hole a bit oblong so I could get a flat-head screwdriver into it and remove it without chancing drilling out the screw-hole's threading.

Aside: I know "screw-hole's" not the right word, but 1) I don't know what that right word is, and 2) I'm amused by the word "screw-hole". It accurately describes where the screw belongs, and can have many other amusing connotations.

Anyway I successfully removed the 3/16" piece of screw left in the chair with a screwdriver stuck rather awkwardly in the hole I'd just drilled. Woohoo! Something I thought of worked!

Feeling rather smug and a bit excited that this might be the one home improvement (can this really be called "home improvement"?) task I did right start to finish. Apparently I'm either very non-observant of my past experiences, or I'm just really quite optimistic. You see, the bolt I'd gotten to replace the screw was not threaded correctly.

Now who would have thought that two bolts that can take the same nut wouldn't be the same thread? So, a bit puzzled, I put the nut back on the original, broken screw. This time I put it down all the way. Well, I attempted to put it down all the way. It siezed up not even 1/4 of the way down the screw. Apparently if you're going to use a nut to guage threading equivalencies between bolts, you must put the nut all the way to the head of the bolt in order to really guage it. But really...if you must do that...don't.

Of course I was a bit...annoyed, though the state of the house and the behavior of all its residents kept me with a nice cool head (and incidentally, the only cool head in the house). (I have this need to be opposite everyone else I'm with. You're mad? Well, look at how cool I am. You're scared? Well, see how brave I'm being? You're being brave? Oh my gosh--we're all gonna DIE!) A few moments' thought and I had the solution.

See, the original screw had apparent sheared off only 1/8" down its length. It's a 3/4" screw. And the distance between the piece of the arm rest that is used to fasten down the arm rest is perhaps 1/16"...I thought I could most likely just use the broken screw, since I was still working with a screw that was...um...let's see...carry the 4...5/8" long, giving me 9/16" to work with.

Short solution: I took a long screw out of a part of the arm-rest that was okay and replaced it with the short screw, considering that part of the arm rest doesn't have to deal with my not unimpressive bulk flouncing back to the back rest. I took the longer screw and put it into the hole wherein the broken screw was once a hair ball in the drain of...the...thing. (I'm not so good with similes.)

I tightened everything and voila! (or whatever the French word is for voila!) we have a chair that is once again functional.

By the way, if ever you buy an office chair from RCWilley for a nice, discounted price...be sure to check the screw tightness often. For your safety.

Epilogue
The useless bolts and nut I bought are living in a nice, snug bucket of homeless screws, bolts, nuts and other fascinating hardware...mostly presumably fasteners of some sort.

Adventures In Home Improvement (7/29/2006)

2006-07-29T23:40:00.000-06:00

Electrical Outlet Repair

Oh how I dislike doing home repair. Okay, strike that. Doing home repair is quite fun for me. When in the ridiculously off-chance that everything (okay, okay, ONE thing) actually works.

Today was a long-overdue adventure in replacing electrical outlets. The entire east wall is powerless. I did some testing with a nifty little electrical outlet testing...thing. It had a black wire and a red wire, attached to a readout that included "110", "210" and the like, and each wire terminated in a couple of cool looking spikes that apparently are supposed to be stuck into the individual slots of the outlet to be tested. (Of course this was something I preferred doing when my kids weren't watching, for obvious reasons.) Anyway, the testing revealed that I had an "Open Neutral"--the actual name of which I got from my brother-in-law who'd recently discovered the same situation in his electrical setup.

"Just go to the electrical panel and be sure all the white (neutral) wires are screwed down nice and tight."

Sounded reasonable.

"But be careful; there's still a lot of electricity running around in that box."

Yay.

So, I went to the box, opened it up, and sure enough, every wire I could see and (very carefully) touch--with the end of my screwdriver--was screwed down nice and tight.

What's left? Well, replacing all of the outlets, of course, because surely if nothing's loose in the panel, chances are quite good that there must be something wrong with one of the outlets, or the wires in each of the outlets' boxes.

Three and half hours later, all outlets on the east wall (and one on the south) are replaced. I call down to the wife to have her throw the breaker switch (believe it or not I was actually smart enough to shut off the breaker every time I opened up an outlet cover). No change. Open Neutrals all over the place.

Being rather happy that the kids are in bed so they couldn't hear the rather impressive list of expletives building up pressure behind my lips, I swallowed hard and didn't give in to the temptation to let loose a blue streak that would do many a sailor--or rapper--proud. The wife was still up and around, after all.

Looks like I get to contact one of my old students with whom I agreed to trade lessons for electrical work, considering he's an electrician. Lucky him.

I love home improvement. It's not unlike a rather swift kick in the boys.

Update (8/4/2006):
Success! An incredible, liberating, exulting...and a bit embarrassing...success!

A few months ago when I was looking into the above electrical problem I noticed an outlet that had a white wire unattached to anything. Not knowing anything about such things I assumed that that was the way it was supposed to be, so I taped it off to prevent any kind of shorting or the like, and closed it back up.

You see, I thought that it was entirely possible that the east wall's lack of power was probably a short due to that wire touching something it shouldn't. This was supported by the scorch marks I saw on the outlet plate and box. Surely the wire had been touching something it should not have been, shorted, and caused a near-fire. The near-fire then burned back whatever the wire was touching, so it wasn't touching anymore, clearly preventing further shorting and possibly a worse fire. Add that to the fact that the bared part of the loose wire was straight, and anything attached to the outlet had a nice loop in it so the wire could go around the fastening screw, it was obvious the wire never had been attached to the outlet. Logical safety precaution: prevent shorting and possible fire; tape up loose white wire.

Well, that clearly didn't solve the problem. A few months go by--okay, about a year goes by--and we have a bunch of shiny, all-but-new electrical outlets that are getting no power.

I talked over the problem with my brother-in-law some more, and that one loose wire came up in the discussion, rather as a side-note to something else. As you probably guessed, that was the problem. That was the neutral wire that was suppose to complete the circuit, and it was the wire that was the neutral for the rest of the east wall. And it wasn't connected, so all that juice had nowhere to go, except to ground.

I attached that white wire (after removing all my masterfully-applied electrical tape, of course), and bingo. Everything works.

Yay me. Okay, okay, yay my brother-in-law.

311 Concert...Didn't LMD

2006-07-29T23:31:00.000-06:00

I went to the 311 concert a couple of night ago (7/27/2006). Wow. TOO much fun. Love those guys--and apparently the fans, too.

A couple things I found very interesting, though, revolving around the fact that I very much dislike going to concerts. Why do I dislike concerts? Usually the people at concerts are wound so tight that at any moment I expect a random knife to be put between my ribs, or to be the next fool who unknowingly attempted catching a stray bullet from someone going all weird. Why are people like that at concerts? Who knows. Why do people destroy their city when their favorite sports team wins? Or loses? People are stupid, that's why. People are inconsiderate morons who with absolutely no regard for others. This is why I have never liked going to concerts.

The obvious question, then, is this: why did I go to 311's concert if I hate going to concerts so much? Answer(s): I love 311, and just about every one of their songs are high energy, happy, positive (or very telling), etc., and I thought it very likely that people who like such music are going to be very mellow types of people. The other reason I wanted to go to the concert was that I love 311, and I was quite sure that their show was going to be just the kind of show I'd like. High energy, relaxed (non-militant), etc. Turns out I was right on both reasons for going. The concert was very high energy, very positive, and the crowd was surprisingly respectful and quite unassuming and even cordial (never before have I been at a concert where the traffic moved slowly because everyone waved everyone else in).

My recommendation if ever you get the change to see 311 in concert: DO IT!

A New Life--er, Job

2006-07-17T22:14:00.000-06:00

That previous post in which I was rambling about having too many job opportunties. Well, all those opportunities were rather nicely shaved down to just one. This one job opportunity seems to be quite a good one, based on first appearances of my first day there.

Okay, I know how silly it seems my making a judgement like that based on one day's experience. But what else can I do when my first impression of the application I'll be working on is not dissimilar to the reaction one would feel looking at a small, rather unattractive--and still cute (because it is small)--child. At least it appears all young and tiny and defenseless (a couple more factors in the cuteness quotient) compared to the strapping young twenty-something that was the Mercury project. (What is Mercury? Well, read my journal and find out. But in short, it was the payroll project I was working on in my last position as Database Developer.)

I'm looking at working on my one personal workstation that has 6GB of RAM and 300GB of HD space. Wow. But then I hear why my workstation is beefier than the first SQL Servers I cut my teeth on. They want each of the developers to have their own multiple (up to 5) instances of the environment on Virtual Machines.

Okay, I think that's strange. But wait. There's more!

I found out in one of the design meetings for the next release that the intent is to "virtualize" the system, and put multiple instances of the same server and database on multiple Virtual Machines. Why? Because they think they'll operate faster.

Pardon me while I enjoy the slack-jawed dumfounded relaxation of my face muscles...again.

I guess it might be faster. Who knows. But between you and me...and you...oh, and you in the corner there...I really doubt it.

Moral of the story: don't judge a project--or its design team--on your first day on the job. But then again...there is something to be said about intuition.....

You never know. Maybe I'll be the Database Architect that saves a decent company from making some seriously fatal mistakes. Or I could be the dude that sits idly by and learns something more.

Stop Murdering Our Language!

2006-07-06T14:54:00.000-06:00

Enough with changing the language to suit the few who choose to take offense at innocuous things.

Because I use the word "niggardly" and get in trouble for it means only two things: you need to find a dictionary (I use Merriam-Webster's online dictionary), and find something that really matters to complain about.

Because I like to look at beautiful things (a strange thing, I know) does it mean I'm "objectifying" that which I'm admiring?

Because I have a friend from South Africa, does that mean my friend is African-American, despite the fact that he's white? And what about my Egyptian buddy?

Because a guy points at and laughs at a tiny, winged sprite, calling her a silly fairy, does that make him bigot?

Because I push someone aside because they're in the way or in my face, is it a hate crime because they wear a turban?

Because someone dresses like a group of people who are well-known to act in violent and aggressive ways, does it make me prejudiced if I choose to stay away from them or be on guard for something unpleasant from them?

Because I believe in the fundamentals of something, does that make me a fundamentalist? And as such, am I worthy of demonization or marginalization? And if so, is that not a hate crime? Or at least bigotry?

Take a deep breath and repeat to yourself, "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, not everyone is out to get me!" Then take another deep breath and repeat to yourself, "...and if everyone was out to get me, I'd still stand for who I am...without being a complete ass about it--unless of course I'm required to in order to change the situation to something less threatening."

What I'm saying here is...relax, people! It's not all about you! It's not even all about the special causes you've decided to attach yourselves to so you can feel important and like you're making a difference.

It's about life, living, loving, and believing like you like, and allowing others to do the same--as strange as the concept of "others" might be.

Happy Independence Day!

2006-07-04T23:49:00.000-06:00

Only almost got a little bit misty tonight, watching the darkened night sky shattered by a million points of dazzling, multicolored lights. And then my mind was turned again to people all around, watching in amazement and wonder and deserved awe the explosive spectacle--awe and wonder at the exquisite beauty of the fireworks, and my eyes dried up under the heat of my irritation and sadness.

I was duly impressed with the beautiful, colorful explosions. Unfortunately, whenever my mind wanders to the reason we light fireworks, and whenever I remember what the fireworks represent, my emotions run a bit high, and my heart goes out in gratitude to our founding fathers, to our armed forces, to any and all who prize our independence and freedoms so greatly as to be willing to pay for it with their lives (which, of course, include those who live and who die for the noble ideals).

With all highs, there are generally lows; my appreciation for the symbolism of the fireworks and many other activities on the fourth day of July is nicely balanced with my...unease at how few of us realize what we're doing and why we do it on that day. These...less-than-positive thoughts are magnified when I hear teens and adults talking about everything but our independence. And it's so much worse, so much more potently driven into our collective unconscious that July Fourth is the holiday, not Independence Day, when people wish me "Happy Fourth of July!" While I appreciate the friendly nature and kind intent behind such wishes, I am left wondering, "Do you have any idea what this day is about?" But I often retort, "And Happy Independence Day to you!"

But let's leave on a positive note. Thank you to all of our armed forces. Thank you to all of our uniformed protectors. Much gratitude to those idealists in politics who truly are in it for the betterment of our nation (as few and far-between as they appear to be). Thank you to all who appreciate our country, the sacrifices our men and women have made and continue making to secure our freedom; our rights; our happiness; our Independence.

Death To Consoles!

2006-06-30T09:03:00.000-06:00

Microsoft and Sony should be ashamed of themselves. If for no other reason than their exceptionally skilled, amoral exploitation of console gamers.

There was a period of time that my computer was nothing more than a ridiculously over-priced video game machine and web browser. Which is to say that my computer was nothing more than a ridiculously over-priced video game machine.

I worked in an IT shop as a database administrator and ASP web developer, so when I got home, the very idea of doing anything productive on my computer was akin to thinking about how long I can keep my arm on the hood of my black car in 105F weather. So video games was the only use I could see for my computer for a long time.

Then I got a family. Suddenly my piddly salary was insufficient to pay for diapers and toys and a house...and a family car...and...well, you get the idea. Side jobs seemed the best answer.

Time spent video gaming on my computer was gradually nibbled away by side projects, until the idea of installing a video game on my computer (especially, my nice, shiny new computer) seemed just silly. My mindset: you sit in front of a computer, you should be working or learning; you have the XBox, PS2, and the GameCube for any video game jonesing you might be experiencing. That mindset worked just fine. Until the advent of the XBox 360.

From this blogger's (read: complainer's) perspective, what Microsoft did in their "release" of the XBox 360 was brilliant. And evil.

Under-produce, under-release to create even more of a demand than there already was. This demand, of course, warrants a higher price. Coupling that with the demographic of video game players, and you have a wonderful windfall. After all, 18- to 35-year-olds can afford that ridiculous price, right? And if they can afford it, why shouldn't we charge that much? Why not? Because it's unnecessary!

Okay, so the console is expensive (but only about 3 times more expensive than its predecessor), because it has all sorts of new game-playing-experience-enhancing creaminess. Now, let's charge an additional 50% on the games, too! Brilliant. And evil. Especially from the perspective of we 18- to 35-year-olds (okay, so I'm a bit outside that demographic--leave me alone!) who would like to play games (with our kids, sometimes, too) and support families...all the while attempting to teach one's family that spending money wisely is important. "But dad, you just spent $1000 on this game machine and a few games." "Yes, son. That's because it allows me to spend more time with you...while you watch me playing this video game that you're not allowed to play because it's...well...for me."

I see this brilliant and reprehensible tactic perpetrated by Microsoft, and I think, "Hey, it's Microsoft. Who'd expect anything different from them?" And I wait patiently for Sony and how they're going to stick it to Microsoft, hoping for a price war.

Of course, Sony's doing exactly the same thing as Microsoft. Under-produce, over-charge, then, when everyone's used to paying such high prices for the rare and precious consoles and games...keep the prices that high when there are enough products. Sly, huh? (Although we all hope that the PS3 won't have the same--or any--hardware issues that the XBox 360 had--which, by the way, caused my bitter self no end of acid amusement.)

My solution, however impotent it might be: boycotting Microsoft and Sony. Of course that's not the end of it, but the details of it should probably not be part of public knowledge--for legal considerations. (Hey, MS and Sony aren't the only ones that can do unethical things!)

But on the legal, ethical side of things, let's just say that Open Source operating systems and programs are getting a very close look. And from all appearances, I'm thinking that my computer is going to become a video game machine again.

Stupid Microsoft. Bloody Sony. Poor me.

Too..Many...JOBS!

2006-06-14T20:57:00.000-06:00

Work, family, friends, education, and other hobbies. Who would have thought that an irrational decision from fools from above would land me in a quagmire of too much opportunity? Put aside for the moment the fact that I shouldn't even have a job given the generosity of so many employers and their benevolent actions of giving developing countries all our jobs. (It IS benevolence, right?)

A sudden cranial amputation of an all but revolutionary project using bleeding edge tools and I find myself landed in the middle of hordes of ravening recruiters making me feel almost necessary and important. Then when I realize that my finding employment is the key to their employment, I realize that I really shouldn't have felt that way at all. But I digress.

Suffice it to say that at this point--probably due to some presuppositions I've made in the recent past, and for quite some time before then--culture and experience has put the fear of unemployment into me so deeply that I fully expect to have to scramble for a job. When the project was killed and I was told to find employment elsewhere, I was pretty sure I could find a job, but I was also quite certain it was going to be at least a bit of a struggle to find something I would find interesting and educational; something at which I could earn sufficient money to support my family; something that would keep me in touch with talented and interesting friends made during the life of the project. I was wrong. In a big way. Well, at least in the number of jobs I perceived I'd have to choose from. One, maybe two. But five!?

So, having been trained to be in a Yang state of mind regarding finding a job--fiercely hunting, aggressively selling, sheepishly settling--I'm floundering in the need for an Yin mindset--methodically weighing, meticulously comparing, brutally eliminating--in a job market that seems rather interested in me--or at least my skills.

So a few things to think about when looking for a job: is it what you want to do? Is it in an environment you want to do it in? Will it allow you time for what you really want to do? (A job is only something you like to do to supply the resources necessary to allow you do what you love to do.) And for all the things the job is not, are your skills in sufficient demand that the prospective employers are willing to pay for the aspects of the job that are...unpleasant, subpar, or undesirable?

Oh, that it were that simple. Me? I apparently have this subconscious desire to torture myself in any decision that needs to be made. Not only do I find myself weighing the above questions, but I also made the mistake of making friends with people at the job I'm leaving. Friends that have really good ideas for other employment. Friends that took pains to keep me on the same team--okay, okay, friends that took pains to create a team on which we could both work.

Finally I'm left with the question: what am I doing in this business? Unstable. Unsteady. Unattractive.

Of course the answer is always: having fun doing what I like to do, and getting paid enough doing it that it frees up time and creates resources to let me do what I love with those I love. Well, most of those I love...or at least care about. The others I'll just have to make time for.

Adventures In Home Improvement I (2006-01-02)

2006-01-02T00:12:00.000-07:00

This post is one of many upcoming posts on my adventures (misadventures?) in home improvement.

See, I have the good fortune to have a house that isn't really all that old...except that it's fallen into disrepair for a few reasons.

Previous owners were worse idiots than I am in this kind of thing.
Current owner claims to be too busy to complete any home improvement type tasks. (Though in my--I mean his--defense, he really is quite busy, and is sadly lacking in construction and home-improvement know-how.) (If that's any kind of "defense.")
The items that require repair make for other things that need repairing, and generally sooner.
[Insert busy computer-geek family-man reasons here.]

In short, these posts are going to be my log, my journal, my diary, my confessional as I make embarrassing attempts at home improvement. Hopefully not all of them will contain phrases like, "So I finally just called in a professional," or, "A few roles of duct tape later...."

"'They' Don't Want You To Know About Natural Cures!"

2005-12-27T23:57:00.000-07:00

Based on the contents of the book that this Blog is about, I believe the title of this entry to be closer to what the book actually communicates than its original title "Natural Cures 'They' Don't Want You To Know About," which implies something very different.

Anyone who's read the book knows what I'm talking about when I vent my complaints about the ridiculousness--and undeniable skill--of the author.

I'll be the first to admit that while most of his claims are interesting, the book could have just as easily gotten across its point--or two--in about 100 pages less.

Let me sum up: "I've uncovered a vast consipiracy, and because of this, people and organizations are picking on me. These people and organizations are all about making money, and couldn't care less about public health--except in its decline through addiction and profiteering. Oh, and to make you happy, here is a tiny list of things you can do to maybe make you healthier and protect yourself against this conspiracy. By the way, please, please, please visit my website because then you can join up by sacrificing ridiculous amounts of money to get these 'secret' cures--which I really can't tell you about. I can certainly let you peek under my overcoat at the glittering cures, but that's all I can legally let you do. So...give me your money and look for these natural cures on your own. Oh, and these organizations are really picking on me because I'm seeing through their lies and consipiracies. Did I mention that I'm being picked on? Because I'm so cool? And give me your money. Because they're only in it for the money. But benevolent, picked on me...I'm fighting for you. And only for you. Give me your money."

The Perpetual Victim
All throughout the pages of the book, and all throughout the pages of his newsletter is constant griping about the oppression he's experiencing because of his rabid hunt for truth. While it's interesting, and if it's all true (and I have no reason to disbelieve him), it gets boring after about the fortieth time the reader is assaulted with still more "proof" about how he's being attacked for revealing truth. Again, if it's all true, it sucks to be him, but enough already! Make with the information! Leave the whining and complaining and pertpetual victim mentality alone for half a second! Give us something useful! We all know that drug companies are in it for profit. We all know that they don't want anyone messing with their money. We all know that government agencies are corrupt and messed up and they don't like such things discussed or uncovered. We all know that the crap we eat in fast food restaurants, the drugs we ingest from pharmacies are killing us, and our suppliers don't care. Thank you! Can we move on now?

It IS All About The Money
In all fairness, this guy is a genious. He has some pretty good ideas about health. More impressive, though, are his genious ideas on how to "make the money of the uninformed" his own. My disgust is unbounded, however, at his repeated complaints about the conspirators' sole focus on getting the money of the uninformed. Yet every possible piece of information that comes from him seems to be rather lacking...unless you pay a little (or a lot)...and then you might get some useful information. Especially if, after having paid that little (or a lot) you pay a little more, having been drawn into the conspiracy theories and the no-brainer "I want to be healthy" obsession. They're in it for the money. What's this guy in it for? Altruism? Warm Fuzzies? Ah. Got it. Evangelical satisfaction. Yeah, right. It's a clear example of pots and kettles and the name-calling that goes on amongst them.

Don't get me wrong. I'm a fanatical supporter of alternative healing. I even enjoy indulging in quite a few conspiracy theories. But one gets rather tired of getting one's head beaten in by conspiracy theories and incessant victimish whining.

In all, with a lot of patience, his book is worth reading. But despite how often I agree with what he says (and it is quite often) I for one am very done with it. Time to move on, to find some (more) information that's true, that's edgy, and doesn't smack of whining and hypocrisy.