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Last Updated : Sunday, 10 November, 2002 at ~5:45 AM -0600
Please Note : This is now manually updated. Sometimes I forget...
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| Daynotes On a Budget Hosted By... Last Updated : Sunday, 10 November, 2002 at ~5:45 AM -0600 Please Note : This is now manually updated. Sometimes I forget... |
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Monday, November 4, 2002 |
Good Morning, Afternoon, Whatever...
Well, I've encountered yet another reason to leave FrontPage - I think I
finally reached it's limitations, at least on Windows 98. I've got 63 megs
worth of files in the directory tree for this web, and I've tried about nine
times now to re-import the files from my "old" web into either a new one or
to recreate what I had. No joy.
The last time around, I was using Frontpage - I tried to import, and it errored with a message in a dialog box - "Out of memory error - trying to import file of 0 bytes." Which doesn't exist in the web. I checked. No zero-byte files. Which I suspect means there's a glitch somewhere in a file NOT held within my web, but I'm not of a mind to track that sort of crap down right now.
Blessed Peace and Quiet, Soon...
Indeed. In less than 10 hours, the polls open locally. No more political ads, no
more lunatics on the roadside, and all I'll have to tolerate are the phone calls.
Today, the first group, Clean Water Action, got a civil response. As did the DFL's phone bank, Wellstone's getout the vote group, and the fourth one that called. The fifth, "Citizens for Constitutional Enforcement" or some such outfit, determined to support our various constitutional rights as they determine they should be supported, got the short version. "Are you planning to vote to uphold our second amendment rights?" "Yup" I answered. "Communist party ticket, right down the line... Thanks for calling!" I hung up on the spluttering young ... well, fool, to be blunt about it.
I see no reason to be any more polite to them than they are to me. The first bunch was quite polite and decent. The last woman (or a high-pitched male voice, I didn't really care) was abrupt, harried, and I think I ruined their day. Oh well. I'm guessing I got pulled from that call list. What a bunch of nuts.
And of course, tomorrow we start the legal battles - with the absentee ballot fiasco looming (votes for other candidates count, but absentee votes for Wellstone result in spoiled ballots UNLESS the spoiler gets into a polling place and re-votes before the polls close, 8 pm tomorrow), we're going to have another Florida on our hands. What's incredibly frustrating about this is that there are entire counties here which are absentee ballot only. Which means they have to re-make all of those choices. Which is ridiculous. Just plain dumb.
At least we're not yet to the level of Oregon stupidity, with the entire state voting absentee. That would be an absolute nightmare.
I mean, a worse one than this campaign going on another two weeks. Though I'd give an awful lot to be able to vote for Paul Wellstone tomorrow morning.
And a whole lot worse than having to clean up all those damned signs.
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Tuesday, November 5, 2002 Election Day |
Oh, No
Dr. Smith is gone...
Vote - Early And Often, If You Can
What a lovely combination. Election Day and our first serious snowfall all on one day. Metro traffic lost count of the accidents this morning - they stopped showing stalls fairly early and switched to plain old "serious accidents". Then they switched to showing only "big accidents with really big trucks". Like the one on 35E and 11 which had a semi going either the wrong way in the median, or having done a 180 - given the width of the road and the length of the semi, I think I prefer to believe it slid from the southbound lanes into the median and up onto the northbound lanes, rather than pulling a donut.
But yeah, we voted. Seems our precinct is divided equally between A-L names and M-Z names by registered voters. At 7:00 am this morning, the A-L group was, by far (about 8-1) the more likely voters. Why? Well, you've got the Andersons, Andersens, and Johnsons (not to mention the Joneses) all in the same alphabetical group. Our line took literally 25 minutes to get through. I'd say there were about 50 people in line. The M-Z line had no more than about 10 people in line at any one time. Once we obtained the receipts, it took another 20 minutes to get a ballot.
Then came the fun part - the quarter-page for US Senate (and likely the source of future election legal challenges unless Mondale wins with 5% or more), and the full-legal page, both sides, for the rest. And disturbingly enough, I knew nothing about the soil and water board, so guessed. My "guess" simply assumes that if you are an incumbent, you've done your bit, now get out and let the next fellow in. The soil and water and other low-level groups do not list political affiliations, so there was nothing to go on (in other words, no, couldn't vote the Communist Party line there).
I'm also pretty sure that the school referrendum will fail, because the lack of a vote is a "no" vote, and the ballot was designed in such a way as to put the referrendum in it's own column on the right - easily overlooked as ballot instructions, for example. So I'm betting it will flame out, unless people look for it.
Now it's all over for me but the waiting - Ann will watch returns for most of this evening, while I will seek other entertainment (perhaps solace). I can only hope that we have a two-party government when it ends, rather than a Majority Party in power and a minority party nipping at their heels. Better to hear two voices than none at all. Especially when one's a ... well, never mind.
Big, Big Uh-Oh...
I am, apparently, a new folk hero to the boys in Jack's kindergarten class. I found out today.
Jack came out slowly, with a couple of other boys. Jack came to me, also slowly, and the other two boys just stopped and stared. I started our routine greeting...
"Hi Jack! How was your day?"
"The usual."
"What was the most fun thing you did today?"
"All of it."
"Really? Did Mrs. C keep you close by today?" When Jack's in trouble, he gets joined at the hip to his teacher.
"No. I told some kids about you today."
"Really? What about me?" Dreading this part. Did he tell them the "out of work" part or the "computer" part or the "overweight" part or the "exercising" part or the "he says no a lot" part or ...
"No. That you can fart when you want!"
Now, I'm trapped on the very sharp horns of a dilemma. If I could have ripped 'em off when I wanted, high school study halls (especially those in hard chairs, hardwood floors, high ceilings, and teachers that demanded absolute silence) would have been so much more fun. On the other hand, I would have had terrible difficulty getting dates... oh, wait, never mind that last part.
Anyway, I've got a problem. I either have to disappoint the boys in Jack's class by proving I can't fart on command, or endanger quite a bit more attempting to prove my son right. This could get downright messy. Then again, it could be worse. I could have visited Mr. Lemmings' site for this week in an employed environment (DO NOT Visit it if you've got a prudish boss or an widely visible monitor). I have only one word for you - uh, don't. Visit Phil's instead. He's messing with fish tanks. Or, as TV teaches us, the last stop for the fish before the porcelain tank.
Oh. Ouch. <FETAL_CURL>
It's election night. I'm resigned to my wife watching election returns, right?
Then the local news station we prefer chooses instead to switch to CNBC/MSNBC's feed, and we're treated to Chris Matthews, a ... comentator (or common tater, whichever) whom I personally have little respect for (don't like him, don't know why, and life's too damned short to explore the issue, I think). I moan and groan quietly while the children clear the table, and then Ann finds something on the Television which she says "sounds interesting."
I look up. It's a program about a baby boy named Bruce who had an accident during circumcision, and was raised as "Brenda".
Now, that last sentence provoked one of three reactions.
I managed to uncurl, make it into the kitchen, and was doing the dishes when I heard over the rush of water "... in an unorthodox procedure, the penis was burned away completely."
Leave it to my wife to find the one program that will get me to leave the room FASTER than election returns. Ouch.
The good news is I snuck out with a pocket full of leftover chocolate from the Halloween bowl, a half-full water bottle, and there's a bathroom down here. I also have the "beverage fridge" down here - plenty of beer, though it doesn't go well with chocolate. I can hold out all night if I have to.
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Wednesday, November 6, 2002 |
The Morning After
Well, if the third-party movement withers back again in the state of Minnesota, they can thank the "Great Governor Of The State Jesse Ventura" that buffoon for killing it. Ventura, while blaming the media, can point to the media all he wants. But when his bald behind fails to show at the party's election-night celebration/commiseration, well, that's a clear sign that the buffoon is in it for his own agrandizement.
The Democrats, on the other hand, can take little Ricky Kahn out behind the woodshed and bitch-slap that little idiot. It was at the point when Kahn took the podium and began his clumsy attempt at a memorial for the late Senator Paul Wellstone that the sympathy for Wellstone turned into anger at Kahn's speech. And defeated the democrats.
Of course, the Republicans need blame no one. Yet. This is probably the best possible news for the Democratic party, who can sit by and watch while the Republicans rip our civil liberties asunder (aside from the right to bear arms, of course), ram through bill-after-bill that will secure the Bush Legacy, and in the weeks following this, the Democrats will see a large and rather fervent outpouring of support, which will in all likelyhood pull them back to a centrist position yet again, while the Republicans can go their merry way. Whether that's a road to hell or some greater glory we'll not know for a while yet.
I guess what's so incredibly disturbing about the "Ventura Legacy" is that this buffoon is fawned over by national media like he's something special. Those of us in this state who voted for him have found to our intense dismay that he is a jackass of the first water, someone who is very much a "do what I say, not what I do" individual. On the occasion of the State Primary elections, Ventura was "too busy to vote". He was playing golf. That's someone who values his civil liberties.
Ventura, if he had been like most of us, would have had fifteen minutes, at most, of "fame" with which to make a point and exit stage left. He failed. Miserably. Those of us who have tolerated the 505,440 other "fifteen minutes of fame" he has used up in the last three years, ten months, and four days, of course, are left to cringe at what damage he might do in the remaining weeks.
Then again, it's not like he hasn't already done enough.
So, of course, we're left with a congress which will pass what the king - er, president - requests, rubber-stamp his decisions and his desires, and continue to drive the boat of state deeper into the mud of ineptitude. Sad to say, but the continuing glut of lawyers in the government is perhaps a blessing in disguise - if we could get them all into a tail-chasing organization, we might all benefit from some peace of mind and sanity - assuming, of course, we can find a big enough barrel to contain all the shite and ram the bung home smartly.
I'm no fan of "organized" politics - as in, organized enough to be able to afford to pay some useless suit for his or her services. I believe that all politics should be local - and that the local issues should drive the higher races. Clearly, Minnesota enjoys the schizophrenic nature of it's representation in the Senate - for years, it was Paul Wellstone, a liberal leader, with Rod Grams, a seat-filling conservative republican. Now we have Mark Dayton, a seat-filling democrat, paired with Norm Coleman, a seat-filling republican who had damned well vote for what the president tells him to vote for, or else. Norm's wife may well depart again for California, and give open break to the heretofore "open secret" of the Coleman's difficult marriage (it's been reported rather widely and unattributably that Mrs. Coleman told her husband she would not stay with him if he pursued another elected office after Governor - I'm sure she's thrilled with Norm's use of his daughter for a couple of campaign commercials).
The sole blessing out of this particular election is that it is the last with "soft" money. Which means probably nothing for the next cycle - I'm sure the attack ads will fly, and new accounting rules will be invented (albeit not with Harvey Pitt's help) to manufacture more fiction in the guise of "public accounting". And the Republicans will have obtained that which has been heretofore unobtainable for them...
No one to blame but themselves.
The bottom line is that we used to have a reasonable and serious dialog in this nation about issues. We've now moved to personalities and attacks. Witness the Cult Of Personality which has at it's head that buffoon Ventura. Too self-important to be bothered to attend the celebration for party he claimed to be a member of, he managed to again "shock the world". And leave us with a penny-pinching idiot who will gut state government under the guise of "no new taxes". Right. We read Bush Senior's lips too, and much like a badly dubbed movie, the voice said "no new taxes". The lips said "bend over, suckers".
So it goes. Time to grab our ankles for our penance. Our sole salve in this is that we don't have to tolerate political ads, too. Not like it's gonna grease up any. The good news is that politicians are all little pricks, so this will neither take long, nor hurt much.
Well, that's what happens when you wake up cranky. I think I need new pillows again. I'm a bed and pillow hog, something we established many, many years ago.
Neither Ann nor I like sheets. We want to be able to kick our feet out and air them out (well, I do, she does sometimes - pulls them back when they're proper blocks of ice, and applies them to my legs, causing me to fear that I've lost my lower limb). So we have our own blankets, and pillows (much easier than "you stole the blankets, you bastard!").
My pillows, however, seem to be getting harder and harder - as in when I wake up, my head hurts more and more. It's a good starting diagnosis...
Humor
Sorry, but I laughed - hard - at #7. At least now I know why I snore...
THE WHY'S OF MEN???
1. WHY DO MEN BECOME SMARTER DURING SEX?
(because they are plugged into a genius)
2. WHY DON'T WOMEN BLINK DURING FOREPLAY?
(they don't have enough time)
3. WHY DOES IT TAKE 1 MILLION SPERM TO FERTILIZE ONE EGG?
(they don't stop to ask directions)
4. WHY DID GOD PUT MEN ON EARTH?
(because a vibrator can't mow the lawn)
5. WHY DON'T WOMEN HAVE MEN'S BRAINS?
(because the don't have penises to put them in)
6. WHAT DO ELECTRIC TRAINS AND BREASTS HAVE IN COMMON?
(they're intended for children, but men usually play with them)
7. WHY DO MEN SNORE WHEN THEY LIE ON THEIR BACKS?
(because their balls fall over their assholes and they vapor lock)
8. WHY DO MEN MASTURBATE?
(it is sex with someone they love)
9. WHY WERE MEN GIVEN LARGER BRAINS THAN DOGS?
(so they won't hump women's legs at cocktail parties)
10. WHY DID GOD MAKE MEN BEFORE WOMEN?
(you need a rough draft before you make a final copy)
11. WHY IS A MAN'S PEE YELLOW AND HIS SPERM WHITE?
(so he can tell if he's coming or going)
12. HOW MANY MEN DOES IT TAKE TO PUT A TOILET SEAT DOWN?
(don't know......it never happened)
Pictures
Dan Bowman and I were exchanging e-mail earlier today about the deplorable state of the weather in California - specifically dry and dusty... So, while on my walk with Jack today, I thought I'd bring the camera and see what I could see. It's probably no big news to you that last month was the third coldest, one of the wettest, and one of the gloomiest (most cloudy) Octobers on record for our neck of the woods. Gloomy, rainy, and cold do not make for colorful falls. What makes for a colorful fall is a warm summer, a sudden cold snap, then a return to warmth. I don't care what the weather-folk or tree-botanists tell us - that's what my 38 years of observation tell me about this climate. And this fall we had green leaves falling from the trees - likely committing suicide before the fell winter come, I'm sure. Not that I could take the easy way out, mind you. But so it goes. Anyway, rather than the normal walk around the block, I took a linear approach this morning down to the park, and didn't realize that I wasn't going to enter at the "busy" end, where the ball diamond, hockey rinks, tennis courts, park shelters, and playground was. I was entering at the quiet end where the pond and bridge and walking trails are. Canterbury Park itself is fairly big - I'd guess 30-50 acres or thereabouts, and devoid of most large trees. The sole landscaping feature aside from the pond is the "hump" - a large rise of about 25 feet over the surrounding territory, probably for the dual purpose of insuring drainage to the pond, rather than back towards the houses which are closer to the valley behind it, and to raise the power lines up a little further to avoid more power poles in the park. So be it. Works for me. While wandering the park, I did find a drowned pumpkin (that orange blob just below the shoreline in the middle image to the right there). Wasn't one of mine. Tomorrow I'm going to try to bring the camera when the ducks are out paddling. Should make for some pretty pictures. |
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Thursday, November 7, 2002 |
Consulting Fun
Tomorrow morning I get to tilt at a windmill in the form of a computer with an inadequate graphics card. My friend has a PC with a 32 MB graphics card which cannot open some graphics files he needs. It's an ATI. He has tried, and can't easily remove the card (and assorted drivers), so he can install his wunderbar 128 MB Ge-Force card. God help us. If anyone's got any tips, I'd be happy to hear them.
But Halloween's Over...
Don't I know it. My pumpkins will hit the trash bin tonight, but are already softening. Of course, the near-sixty temps we have today probably don't help (or help a great deal in the rotting process, whatever). I actually saw a fly today - first in about a month. Say what you will about cold, it's certainly good for killing the damned insects off for a while.
But what had me shivvering me timbers was this story on CNN about a New Mexico couple visiting New York, and bringing with them a nice case of bubonic plague. How generous. Ugh.
Gone Walkabout
Jack and I are off in another direction this afternoon to explore more of our new neighborhood. I noticed a trail this morning that was narrow and twisted - just like the mind of a politicial operative - and I think we'll take it this afternoon. Who knows - it might lead to that little lake on the other side of the road...
I'm Back
Well. not precisely. I wrote the above at about 1:30 pm. It's now 9:50 pm. In between, I diagnosed a computer problem, handled another difficult computer issue for another client, worked through a dumb-stuff issue with client one and their web hosting provider (apparently paying for "web hosting" doesn't mean that you can get real "web hosting" space), took another long walk, came home, got Rhiannon, then RAN - mom to get her from the bus, home for fifteen minutes, back around the block to another school for Rhiannon's first semi-real basketball game. Whereupon she got ... well, spanked. It was supposed to be practice, but since the girls haven't had a game in almost three weeks, well, it made sense to "practice" a game. And the opposing coach took advantage of their two-a-week-practices since the beginning of October (Rhiannon's team started late) and avoided most of the rules - like no in-play full-team swapping - before we got them to stop that, Rhiannon's side was down about 8 baskets. Of course, her team was also short a few players (the other team had all eight there, Rhiannon's team had only five - when you play three-on-three, it's rather tiring). They ran fast breaks, full-court presses, and other basketball terms I have no idea about but many of our team's parents were muttering about them, so I guess that's a problem. So she got stomped ugly, and they were still playing and trying right up to the end of the game - which is very good. They didn't give up, tired as they were.
So, that was today. I did pop up a panorama of the park, if you're interested. It's about 390K, and isn't the best job, but was done without a tripod - not too shabby, if I do say so meself...
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Friday, November 8, 2002 |
Well, THAT Wasn't Too Bad...
This morning's on-site client visit was to remove a horrid video card. Said client, not being a complete dimwit where computers are concerned, attempted his own dastardly interventions, and failed miserably. Which is where I came in.
Those of you who've done battle with this sort of stupid stuff can skip ahead to the juicy parts, but the problem was he had an ATI video card with 32 MB RAM which was inadequate to the task. Frankly, I'm still stuck a bit back in the old Vic-20 days, as I remember some of the rather spectacular things we could do on that box. But I digress...
Anyway, said 32 MB Video Card was no longer adequate to handle the necessary settings which are needed for large (20-40 MB) Graphics Images, or Very Large Graphics Files. So, said client acquired a $135, 128 MB Ge-Force Video Card. Said cards going into a 1.1 Ghz Athalon box with 256 MB RAM and other assorted headaches (Tape Drive, etc), all running under Windows 2000 Workgroup mode (yeah, I know, I know). He yanked the old, inserted the new, attempted to install, and promptly made mincemeat pie, a couple weeks early.
I arrived, inserted the original video card, rebooted, exported the registry, shut down, rebooted into safe mode, removed the hardware through the control panel. Then I ran through the registry with a meataxe, cleaning out the HKEY_LOCAL_MACHINE subtree of all mentions of the dastardly ATI software. Rebooted again in safe mode to verify it, shut the box down, and went all screwdrivery on it - yanked the old card, inserted the new card, reconnected the plethora of cables under there (mouse, keyboard, two USBs, two Parallels, Speaker Out, Power In, Phone, Network, and two other cables which fit so nicely into the openings I just didn't bother to ask - just kidding).
Powered the machine back up, inserted the CD, installed the hardware drivers, rebooted, and ... well, I've worked on a lot of hardware. A Lot. I've never seen the video resolution selector on a computer with that many ticks under it. There had to be almost thirty - seriously. This thing went all the way up to 3200x2400 that I could verify on the no-name 19" monitor. I think with a decent 21" or larger monitor, that might have been up to 4000x3000 or thereabouts. But boy, is that a sweet video card.
Following that, I collected a large pile of parts and the like for a server he wants me to reconstruct - nothing fancy, no domain or anything, just a simple dump-tank file server. Not too difficult so far...
After that, I wandered to hell and back to find Ann's office. Little tip for you - if you find yourself in a skyway system and hopelessly lost, get outside. I walked about two blocks outside, thought I knew where to go from there, and entered the rat's maze. After going about a mile, I came upon Ann's building from the other direction - I started northwest of her office by about four blocks, and ended up coming to her building from the east, after passing around it in a giant circle to the south. Oh well. I needed the exercise.
So now I'm home, building a file server.
Before I Go...
Yesterday's panorama of the park was a first-try shot. I use a Kodak DC-40 digital camera - put it this way - this thing was probably made before the term "megapixel" was invented, and hasn't got the ability to delete individual images, preview them, or, frankly a whole lot of anything else. I've got a couple of settings;
Anyway, I downloaded the pictures and then experimented with IRFAN, some image viewing software - it has a "Create Panorama" setting I was playing around with, and you see the results there... I'll try to do better next time, I promise...
Enjoy your evening - I will mine... Time to top the pop on another cold one - erm, another beer, I mean...
Why Will Microsoft Disappear From The Face Of The Earth?
That's why. Assholes.
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Saturday, November 9, 2002 |
And here we are, the weekend...
Or, as I likes to call 'em, those two damned days where everyone's underfoot at home.
This morning dawned foggily enough, internally, that I was well into my second article in "The Reading Room" when it occurred - Rhiannon's double-header basketball games were today. Argh. Move from dead stop to all ahead full - well, slow, at any rate - and out the door, to be greeted, again, by the prospect of a droopy tire.
Now, if said droopy tire was elsewhere in the neighborhood, or even on the vehicle next to the car we drive, droopiness would not irritate me. Since the drooping tire is not only concerned with but on the front end of the "Main Vehicle" this is a concern I deal with regularly.
This morning, however, I felt it necessary to deal with it in a slightly more permanent fashion. I grabbed a can of good old cheesy fix-a-flat from the garage where it had recently floated to the top, and started filling the tire with that combination of goopy foam and canned air. I also chopped up a new little bit of metal for my ingenious plug repairs, and put that in (the old one was about 50% shorter than it needed to be).
Once gooped with the Fix-a-Flat, I fired up the compressor, and let that roar away. And dodged back and forth between freezers and kitchen, seeking suitable breakfast materials for myself and those others so concerned. Ann, meanwhile, was looking to accomplish many things, including feeding apes, and others, as they so chose. You can see the obvious overlap in our duties, and by now guess who accomplished the most with their time.
So, once I finished filling the tire, I checked it again, and was rewarded with the tell-tale signs of bubbles - right at the rim. For those of you saying "oh, no" this is actually a good thing. The tire itself is likely fine - the problem is the corrosion of the aluminum rims, and what needs to happen is the tires need to be demounted, the rims need to be ground clean, and then the tires remounted. So that will happen soon.
Following that experience, the goal was to get to the gym on time. Said gym being the one nearby that's never been open yet. Of course, it was open today. And the problem was that the girls again got ... well, walloped is perhaps too inadequate a word, but they were trying the entire game. Needless to say, at 32-6, it's not a pretty game, but when the other team seemed to have a Dink Fogerty (yes, John, a Spider Robinson Reference - and Callahan's Key was pretty good, too. I think he could have done more with Pixel, but there ya go), because every damned time the ball went up for the opposing team, it came down - either in the basket or their own hands.
Which meant they kept trying, again, and again, and again, and again. But our girls did pretty good.
The second game was better. A bit. Except for Rhiannon getting hit in the mouth going for a loose ball and getting a bloody lip, that is. She's fine, she'll have a fat lip for a few days, but she was back on the court after skipping one rotation in, and she did OK.
End Of Independence Party In Minnesota
Clearly, Jesse Ventura's elevation from buffoon in a feather boa to political pundit was an event which did cause much of the world to sit up and notice Minnesota politics. The death of Sen. Paul Wellstone, while leading in the polls, and the subsequent memorial/rally which energized the Republicans in this state (and apparently others), and Ventura's petty childishness, have all led me to an obvious conclusion.
The Independence Party is dead in the state of Minnesota. Not that it was ever alive to begin with.
You see, Ventura, while I am certain he's a nice man and a good father, has failed to mature beyond a five-or-six-year-old level. Said lack of maturation has led to Ventura blaming the media for reporting his troubles (well, dumb-ass, if you didn't cause the trouble, it wouldn't be reported now, would it?). And he also took his frustrations out on the media in a number of small, petty ways.
Ventura called a press conference to name the founder of the state's Reform Party (which morphed into the Independence Party when Pat Buchannan made that aborted switch to the Reform ticket, killing that party three years ago), Dean Barkley, to the seat vacated by Paul Wellstone. Barkley, a bit of a creep, it appears, has decided to not follow Minnesota law and resign when the election results are verified. Barkley says he's going to finish the term, and in doing so, end his political career in the state, and discredit the Independence Party.
Then again, what I'm talking about is politics, in which case the voters only remember the most recent dishonorable act. If you're two or three back, who really cares, as long as your promise candy, money, and better jobs to everyone, who the hell really cares if you're going to do something about it?
Barkley's a scumbag, plain and simple. He's also a lawbreaker, which should result in his arrest. It won't. I will tell you this much - should Barkley look to endorse other candidates, I won't be listening to that particular bag of wind. After all, he gave us Ventura.
Narrow-Mindedness Run Amok
We receive The Catholic Spirit from our parish weekly, which is sometimes nice, and sometimes infuriating. And this week's issue has one of the latter examples.
Last week's issue contained a very small, perhaps 200-word article, about Senator Wellstone's death. The article noted his good works for many people, along with his support for abortion rights.
This week four, count'em, FOUR letters to the editor - the only four they publish - all take issue with Wellstone's support for Abortion Rights. How quaint.
The Catholic Spirit is a newspaper published by the St. Paul Diocese, under the direction of the Archbishop, and is clearly and specifically to communicate the church's official position on the many issues of the day. So slamming Wellstone for his position on abortion is to be expected.
But to publish four letters continuing to beat the dead (sorry) equine is A Bit Much, to put it bluntly. Oh well. We'll see if they'll publish my rebuttal. Doubt it.
Dear Editor; It is unfortunate that the Catholic Spirit editors chose to publish in the November 7th issue four letters, all taking exception to the brief news article commending the good works of the late Senator Paul Wellstone. Wellstone did many good works, yet the letters published showed that some still rely on single-issue decisions. Our world today isn't a single issue place. We have old people unable to afford drugs, food, and places to live. We have veterans who have medical problems that are ignored, and often their service is disregarded because people wish the war had never happened. We have farmers who are losing their livelihood, or having their land taken and misused. Wives who live in fear of their husbands, because the husbands own firearms and have a history of violence. Paul and Sheila Wellstone worked for all of these groups, and many more, yet your editors chose letters to highlight only the position Paul Wellstone took on abortion. Please - try a balanced approach to our world? Or we'll end up with YOUR world and MY world. And that doesn't work. We should know that by now. |
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Sunday, November 10, 2002 |
This morning in church, Father noted some changes in the service - all minor, all cosmetic, but as usual, the direction caused my mind to wander, and it occurred to me that I was quite the pervert when I was younger...
When I started serving mass in 1972, I was in second grade. It was not quite ten years after Vatican II, and we were attempting to blend old and new in our basement church in Sartell. The altar had moved from the back of the church to the middle, some of the old folks were still responding in Latin, and we still had extensive training to be an acolyte (as they call them now).
I figured Altarboy had to be a step up from sitting in the pew with the ever-growing number of sisters I was collecting, having to put up with their snorts and hisses as I attempted to sing (my school teachers said I had a nice singing voice, my sisters thought it horrid. Funny - now it IS horrid - the bucket apparently lost handles, somewheres). Anyway, it was something to do, rather than sitting there for an hour waiting for God to talk to me.
So rather than putz through, I learned to serve. And encountered that most unusual of events - tittilation during church. You see, back in the recent-post-Vat2 world, we still had some holdovers. Such as communion. For the non-Catholic amongst us, Communion is where you receive a symbol of the body of Christ, to remind you that you are a member of the Church. Briefly. I'm not going to go all theological on you, mostly because "theological" and "tittilation" in the same paragraph makes me itchy.
Anyway, one of the jobs the altarboys had (and yeah, by the way, we were all boys. Girls weren't allowed for years in my old parish) was to hold the "paten" - a circular metal tray on a stick (see, we do it EVERYWHERE here in Minnesota. "Get on the stick" isn't just a saying, it's a way of life). The paten had to remain under the host 100% of the time, from the chalice (the cup the priest placed it in prior to distribution) to the mouth - we didn't have people getting communion by hand back then.
Thus, the tittilating aspects of it. Here you were, in your good sunday clothes (only knuckleheads and kids who were cold went in with anything other than light shirt and pants on - nothing but your sunday best, mind you, but light-weight clothes, because we wore a floor-length, high-necked cassock with about 80 little buttons on the front, and God Himself help you if you missed one of the buttons OR the neck clip, and a white surplus, which was a big over-sized starched shirt with a square collar - all of heavy wool because it lasted longer. No cotton, definitely no polyester, all heavy). You were required to hold this metal tray with a rather narrow edge under the priest's hand as it went to one recipient after another. Which meant you were watching mostly necks - you didn't want to chop a neck if you could avoid it (or it wasn't a friend of yours).
So I was a little creep, OK? I grew out of it, mostly.
Humor
THESE ARE TAKEN FROM REAL RESUMES AND COVER LETTERS
I demand a salary commiserate with my extensive experience.
I think I'm commiserating with your co-workers.
I have lurnt Word Perfect 6.0 computor and spreasheet progroms.
Butt am fergetfil of whar that spel chekr is
Received a plague for Salesperson of the Year.
Thus killing off the remaining sales force, no doubt.
Wholly responsible for two (2) failed financial institutions.
Wholly responsible, eh? That kind of candor and acceptance of responsibility is refreshing. Most people in jail still claim innocence...
Reason for leaving last job: maturity leave.
Um, too much candor, thanks. Of course, it could also apply to "Maternity" leave...
Failed bar exam with relatively high grades.
So that puts you in the same class with alcoholic beer, diseased women, and rabid dogs. I don't #!@!%@!$# with any of 'em.
It's best for employers that I not work with people.
Aha. Apply at the zoo, in the line marked "feed trucks only"
Let's meet , so you can 'ooh' and 'aah' over my experience.
How 'bout I just "phew" and "ugh" in private?
You will want me to be Head Honcho in no time.
Yup. The "head" honcho around here cleans bathrooms.
Am a perfectionist and rarely if if ever forget details.
I occasionally stutt-stutter with with the the damned details, though.
I was working for my mom until she decided to move.
And left no forwarding address? Explains so much.
Marital status: single. Unmarried. Unengaged. Uninvolved. No commitments.
Are you looking for a date or a job?
I have an excellent track record, although I am not a horse.
Though you might be part of one.
I am loyal to my employer at all costs. Please feel free to respond to my resume on my office voice mail.
Um, do yourself a favor, and get a dictionary. Look up "loyal" and "stupid." If your picture appears at one, please let us know.
I have become completely paranoid, trusting completely no one and absolutely nothing.
Looks like you have two career paths - Night Watch Person or Disaster Recovery Specialist.
My goal is to be a meterologist. But since I possess no training in meteorology, I suppose I should try stock brokerage.
Hmmm. Guess that's better than going into IT.
I procrastinate, especially when the task is unpleasant.
Huh. I usually do the unpleasant tasks first, because they usually hide the really nasty stuff...
Personal interests: donating blood. Fourteen gallons so far.
Um, are you about 140 years old or so? Otherwise, I think that's ... a medical problem. Sorry, Drac, but that's not a good sign.
As indicted, I have over five years of analyzing investments.
Ah. Indicted for Investment Analysis? You're right. That doesn't look so good on a resume.
Instrumental in ruining entire operation for a Midwest chain store.
Ah, yes. There is no "I" in team, nor in "run". But you do your thing...
Note: Please don't misconstrue my 14 jobs as 'job-hopping'. I have never quit a job.
Ah. They've "quit" you, eh?
Marital status: often. Children: various.
Hmmm... Have you met "Unengaged" above? You might be just the ticket there...
Reason for leaving last job: They insisted that all employees get to work by 8:45 am every morning. I couldn't work under those conditions.
How rude. To demand you just show up before they'll pay you.
The company made me a scapegoat, just like my three previous employers.
Ah. Have you met "utterly paraniod", above? And have the horns surgically removed - might resolve the "goat" portion of the issue.
Finished eighth in my class of ten.
Hm. Sorta like what you call the fellow who graduated at the bottom of his class from medical school. "Doctor". Gulp.
References: none. I've left a path of destruction behind me.
Heh. Reminds me of Custer's last words... "Look at all those !$%!#$~$ indians..."
QUOTES FROM ACTUAL PERFORMANCE EVALUATIONS
Since my last report, this employee has reached rock bottom and has started to dig.
Which is disturbing, given the fact they're attempting to dig rock.
His men would follow him anywhere, but only out of morbid curiosity.
Works if you are a coroner. Otherwise, not so good.
I would not allow this employee to breed.
Hmmm. I know a few people like that.
This associate is really not so much of a has-been, but more of a definitely won't be.
Unfortunate, that.
Works well when under constant supervision and cornered like a rat in a trap.
Ah. Order more bullwhips, then.
When she opens her mouth, it seems that this is only to change whichever foot was previously in there.
And we've found the source of "athletes' tongue".
He would be out of his depth in a parking lot puddle.
And a shallow one, at that!
This young lady has delusions of adequacy.
Ooof. That's gonna sting.
He sets low personal standards and then consistently fails to achieve them.
I knew a guy like that once.
This employee is depriving a village somewhere of an idiot.
Yeah, unfortunately, not mine.
This employee should go far - and the sooner he starts, the better.
The journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step... For those that need assistance, that would be "LEFT, RIGHT" not just "LEFT, LEFT, LEFT, LEFT..."
LINES FROM ACTUAL MILITARY PERFORMANCE APPRAISALS ORDERS (OFFICER EFFICIENCY REPORTS)
Not the sharpest knife in the drawer.
Or cleanest spoon, I'm guessing.
Got into the gene pool while the lifeguard wasn't watching.
There's a lifeguard? Must be a relatively recent invention. I've seen some real... winners out there.
A room temperature IQ.
This would truly be ... moronic.
Got a full 6-pack, but lacks the plastic thingy to hold it all together.
Ah. The Plastic Thingy. Must be a technical term.
A gross ignoramus -- 144 times worse than an ordinary ignoramus.
Profound. Perhaps Even True...
A photographic memory but with the lens cover glued on.
One of the greater crimes of the universe...
A prime candidate for natural deselection.
Ah. Back home we had a saying for that. "Go play in traffic."
Bright as Alaska in December.
Provided the solar flares are kept to a minimum, and artificial lighting is not used, I presume.
One-celled organisms out score him in IQ tests.
How does a one-celled organism sharpen the number two pencil to take the test in the first place?
Donated his body to science before he was done using it.
Body? I think not. Brain? Most likely.
Fell out of the family tree.
No shaking required. Just wave. Use both hands. He will too.
Gates are down, the lights are flashing, but the train isn't coming.
Which is a good thing, as this idiot is standing in the middle of the tracks, picking his nose and drooling.
Has two brains; one is lost and the other is out looking for it.
"He was of two minds on the issue..."
He's so dense, light bends around him.
I bet he can light up a room at any party, though...
If brains were taxed, he'd get a rebate.
Or maybe he's overdrawn...
If he were any more stupid, he'd have to be watered twice a week.
Assuming you wanted him alive, of course.
If you give him a penny for his thoughts, you'd get change.
Probably in excess of $2.
If you stand close enough to him, you can hear the ocean.
I hear an ECHO... Echo... echo ... echo
It's hard to believe that he beat out 100,000,000 other sperm.
"I can't believe that out of a billion sperm, THAT was the fastest one..." My favorite insult.
One neuron short of a synapse.
Ooooh. Brain humor.
Some drink from the fountain of knowledge; he only gargled.
Could be worse. He mighta peed in it.
Well, THAT was odd...
Ran into some friends after church, and they had plans for the afternoon. We said "well, if thing three doesn't want to go, send her over, she and Rhiannon could play." They called about two hours later (one of the "benefits" of going to 9 am mass - 2 hours after you leave church is still early in the day). They called, and said "hey, Rhiannon, can you play with me?" Sure. Send things 3 and 4 over. Oh, what? You want My Children in Your Home? Are You Insane?
Yup. They were. So Ann and I enjoyed a slightly impromptu date, in which we put air in a tire (the other leaky one), grabbed a snack, headed home, and I took a nap. How romantic.
And they're back, we're aiming for "Maple-glazed Ribs" for dinner. Mind you, the last three major meals have come from Ann's recent $1 aquisition, a Lutheran cookbook. Mind you, it's not a REAL Lutheran cookbook, as they use the terms "Casserole" and "Hot Dish" interchangably. They aren't. Not in this world, at any rate.
The title of the cookbook is "Even Lutherans Can Cook". Note that the word "well" never appears in the title.
Saturday's dinner was "Porcupine Meatballs" - ground beef and rice, mixed with diced tomatoes and cooked. No, you're right. I didn't find it tasty, nor a worthy building ground for future endeavors. Today's lunch, "Taco Pie", on the other hand, holds great promise. Crescent roll dough on the bottom, covered with crushed fritos, ground beef with taco seasoning, more fritos chips, some sour cream, shredded cheese, and more fritos. We're discussing leaving off the sour cream (baked dairy - can be very bad), adding refried beans, and then providing sour cream on the side - still cold. It's a thought.
I'm hopeful the ribs tonight will be at least flavored. If not, we've got plenty of peanut butter, jelly, and bread. I shall live.
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