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?
Friday, January 11, 2008
Monday, January 07, 2008
Expect the Unexpected
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.
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.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Lessons Learned from 24
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....
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....
Monday, November 12, 2007
Eaten Alive by Plenty
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.
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.
Friday, November 02, 2007
Wrong Even When Right
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Torn Apart By Evil Beings
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.
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.
Friday, October 19, 2007
It DOES Matter If It's Black or White!
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.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
IRS == Greedy, Manipulative Bastards
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....
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....
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Conspiracy Theory 13a
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.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Adventures In Linux 7/16/2007
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
In Retrospect....
I was right. And I was wrong. The day was good. And it was terrible. Wonderful lesson. Fallen angel. Strange decisions. Wonderful lesson.
Monday, June 11, 2007
We Must All Have Dreams
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.
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.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
I Was Set Up! ...By Myself
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!
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!
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Black Listed Companies 12/28/2006
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!!
Friday, August 11, 2006
War Isn't Hell, It's Insanity
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.
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.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Adventures In Home Improvement (8/3/2006)
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.
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.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Adventures In Home Improvement (7/29/2006)
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.
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
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 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!
Monday, July 17, 2006
A New Life--er, Job
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.
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.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Stop Murdering Our Language!
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.
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.
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