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Update At 2200 I spent part of last night trying to figure out if my daughter was truly insane or just a prevaricating procrastinator. This morning, I'm leaning towards the former. For those of you who missed last night's contretemps, Rhiannon, at 9:15 pm on Sunday, January 25, said "oh, shoot, I have my book report due tomorrow." It transpires that this book report covers five - yes, five - books. Books over 120 pages count as two books, but the book report is still due on January 26 - er, that'd be today, then. Now - again, to recap - she determined last night that she wasn't quite finished with "Mr. Popper's Penguin" which was book four of five - and book five was "Black Beauty" - which she'd not yet started. The writing? Heaven knows where that stands. This morning, at the breakfast table, the bleary-eyed child (who was up until near midnight as makes no difference, and up again before her parents this morning) said, over the open book with only a few pages left "I've been dreading this day for months." Ah. That'd be the "oh, no, it's THAT Monday" portion of the exercise. Fortunately for me, while contemplating her actions both last night and this morning, my hands were occupied with a knife and cardboard - I completed the basis for her "Quadarama" (see yesterday for details - it's too stupid to explain twice) so she can go forth and decorate. Other than that, we did get slapped with a bit of a snowstorm - though the snow is not at all wet and heavy like a good blizzard should have - this stuff is fine and light - incidentally, the perfect snow for blowing and drifting. Not that they need that in Duluth - last reports were a combination of lake effect and the storm itself have left Duluth and the regions nearby dumped in something like nineteen INCHES of snow. Before you folks living on southern edges of large lakes snicker, find yourself a Minnesota or US map. Find yourself the "Great Lakes" region - those five massive bodies of water in the north-eastern quarter of the United States. Now, look at the biggest (and westernmost) lake. That's Superior. Find the little point at the southeast end of that lake. THAT'S Duluth. So, you say? Do yourself a favor. Find the arrow that points NORTH. Then, have someone explain about EAST. And about how most of the weather flows from west to east (in this hemisphere). And about how the cold coming from the west should be moving that lake-effect snow to the east. And how Duluth's on the western tip of the largest (but westernmost) Great Lake. Yeah, that's a lot of f*cking snow - no two ways about it. We're due somewhere between four to eight inches - not much in the snow bucket, frankly, though we need the moisture. Prior to last week, our "snow cover" was mostly "shady northern sides of things". Not a lot of "real snow".
[Link] Life is NOT like a box of chocolates. More like a jar of jalapenos. What you do today might burn your ass tomorrow. Yeah. Like Friday, only worse...
[Link] Then again, never having made a concession call or speech, I'm fairly certain that it's got to be one of the toughest things these people will ever do. While there are many staff flunkies who can move on to other areas, the headline act tends to be the one tagged with the "loser" moniker. Such is leadership. If you win, there's nothing left but hard work, often (unless you're the president) very little thanks, and at the end, some schmuck saying "well, I would have ..."
[Link] The "refreshing" portion of the exercise was that we haven't, despite the six-week layoff, forgotten how to drive on ice and slop. Sure, it's entirely unpleasant to have ice chunks on your windshield that not even serious hosing with the wiper fluid will remove - but that's the way it goes sometimes.
The other good news was that despite the threats of bloody cold weather this week, we're actually going to hit below zero once or twice. I might actually get some work done in the garage... Gee. I hope I remember how to make pens.
[Link] As a result, I'm not at all surprised or disappointed by this story that a Louisana representative is getting into bed with the very pharmaceutical folks he negotiated with. Let's put some rumors to rest. FIRST, of course, there was absolutely no quid-pro-quo regarding a "do this and get a job" - there never has to be. No one's stupid enough to even say anything that could be misconstrued or misunderstood. But "this is how the game is played". Republican representatives who leave public service go on to work mostly make-work jobs in private industry. Democratic representatives who leave public service go on to work mostly make-work jobs in the lobbying and educational fields - which, I suppose, might lend creedence to the "liberal bias" of higher learning - then again, when the money for your budget comes from the Democrats, and the money for the guns and bombs and rockets and covert operations comes from the Republicans, it's easy to see why the military tends to fall one way and education the other. Biting the hand that feeds, as it were. SECOND, if you were surprised by The Honorable Mr. Tauzin's bolt into the pharmaceutical industry, why? Why on earth would you be? THIRD, a politician who has some rather ... well, let's just he's had some rather unusual opportunities in that regard. He's from Louisana. Why on earth should you be surprised? I'm not going to insinuate that New Orleans and the state of Louisana is corrupt - it's been insinuated far better by better people than I... FOURTH and finally, look at a map - you don't think that Bush didn't pull some strings for a "neighbor" ("Texas Neighbor" = within a thousand miles, once drank a beer with him in a local bar, or is from a neighboring state), do ya? Perhaps I'm from the post-Watergate age, and I expect to be let down by politicians, because that is what they do - they promise anything to get elected, they try, for a while, to get things done, and eventually instead of part of a solution, they become part of the background noise - another law supporting the research into the lack of funding into the growth of whatever - obviously, including a huge research grant to the sponsor's alma mater or home state university system. We get the government we deserve. Which is, in many ways, very unfortunate. And unlikely to encourage people to vote, as well.
[Link] I do know a few folks, though, that make me more than wonder... |
Update At 0845
Well, if Lieberman wants to claim "Joementum" then he's certainly welcome to it.From: Felix Mendes I do so love the campaign season. As opposed to the rest of the time when candidates "vett" and review and screen and get approval for everything short of an itch, the campaign trail is where tired, cranky, upset politicians open their mouths and completely unscreened thoughts come out. Does the similarity between Lieberman's "Joementum" comment and a Portuguese word mean a whole lot? Certainly seems to describe his candidacy. Doh. Thanks Felix - stay warm. We're supposed to hit double-digits here today for the high. Whoo hoo.
[Link] Seems I did. The first pass through when this lawsuit hit the news, the main force of their arguments seemed to be "well, you can't make us have someone standing here every time telling someone not to bring a gun into church or onto church property." Separation of church and state, it was argued, did not allow for the state to require someone to do something on church grounds to prevent someone from doing something. Which, if you look at it that way, makes about as much sense as a two-year-old's babbling. But it seems they may have another legal leg to stand on - the Minnesota State Constitution requires that bills passed must remain pertinent to their subject - in other words, those nasty combination "omnibus" bills (which, oddly, we have a habit of passing at the end of each session) are illegal - again, depending on the subject of the law and the interpretation of "pertinent". So, certainly, there's a bit of a problem for the legislature. Last session's counterbalance to the "Woman's Right To Know" law (which contained suspicious science and plenty of what most would call "irregular interpretations" as requirements for information to be disbursed to pregnant women seeking abortions - who then had to wait 24 hours for the procedure) may be in danger because the legislators failed to make the subject of the law pertinent. Seeing as how the subject of the law was a DNR "Technical" bill, I've not a freaking clue how that got put together. Then again, what do I know? I'm just a dumb-shit voter.
[Link] Many years ago when Ann and I first "got together" my mother shipped me off into the big wide world with some garage-sale plates. Er, sorry - "Stoneware". Being a male, I lack the subtle understanding of the differences between "plates", "Stoneware", and "china". I am aware that there are different techniques for making them (I took a couple pottery classes), but beyond that, hey, it's flat, fits in the microwave, it must be useful for eating from. Made sense to me.
However, when we registered for wedding gifts, one of the items high on our list (I was told) was "stoneware". At this far removal from that I do remember, however, that at the wedding we got nearly all of the "stemware" - fancy glasses - and not a single stinking plate. So much for practical. We made do with the brown plates and the green plates until they started breaking at alarming rates. Some years ago, on clearance, I picked up some nice black octagonal plates, bowls, saucers, and the like. Of course, I got four place settings, so when I went back, it was discontinued. Well, that's the way it goes. Over the last year our "everyday" plates have changed to the clear or colored glass ones we picked up at Target on clearance - $0.99 per plate, I recall. We've got four blue, four purple, and four clear. So that works. It's not a perfect match, but hey, they're all the same style, just different colors. This year, pre-Christmas, I found in Target a nice set of stoneware. Off-white plates with a gold ring around them - plates, bowls, saucers, cups - and the whole set was $9.99. Sweet. So I got one box (duh, four place settings again). After finally getting them washed and into the cupboard, today I went to nuke a chicken patty for lunch. Took out one of the new saucers, tossed the chicken patty on it, added a slice of cheese, and put it in the microwave for a minute. Turned back to the dishes at hand, and noticed flashes of light. Hmmm, I says to myself. What should be flashing behind me? I turned, turned again, and narrowed down the source of the flashing to the microwave - the gold rings were METAL!!! On the one hand, had I guarantees that I would not blow up or burn down anything, it was a fun experiment. Bright blue-purple sparks inside the microwave - pretty cool looking. On the other, wow. Not gonna do that again without adult supervision. So that was my "success" for the day - I didn't burn down the house. Feeling cocky, I figured I'd open up the alumni magazine that my semi-alma mater sends out (a late uncle once told me that "an alma mater is not where you graduate from - it's where you went, learned the most, and where your fondest memories are." I don't know about fondest, but my father did work there for thirty-plus years, and I met my wife there, so I guess it certainly ranks up there), and take a look for old classmates. Mind you, the average graduating class from St. Johns was in the 400-person range, so when they list two or three from your class an issue, you can go for years without seeing a name you recognize. Ah, this issue was painfully different. I opened up the magazine, and there about halfway through was a picture of a kid I'd built a loft for - who was joining the board of Regents. CEO of a venture capital firm, advisor to a number of civic organizations, all of that on his resume. Were I a name-dropper, I'd admit that the gentleman in question was a fairly close relative of a fairly well-known local family who spends a whole lot of time during the summer indoors - watching a game. And we'll leave it at that. A few pages back was the class list, including a kid who graduated five years ahead of me who is now in Congress, many others who have CEO, VP, or similar letters behind their names, and all the rest. Major Generals from various services, along with the occasional divinity school student doing well. I tell myself "ah, they're just peaking too early. I just turned forty." I wish it were true. The truth of the matter is that St. John's is often called "The Harvard of the Midwest" - and it tends to attract the children of the financially successful and powerful in droves. One would think that a campus literally in the middle of nowhere (two miles to Avon, which is no hotbed of anything, and about twelve to St. Cloud, where you can get into trouble should you so choose) would keep kids out of trouble, but I found in the years I was there that trouble had it's own way of finding St. John's. Plenty of drug use, including the annual drug bust, was a minor problem - underage drinking was a serious problem, but when freshman were not permitted to have vehicles on campus without the Vice President for Student Affair's express permission, that tended to hold down the problems. That, and the requirement that freshmen either live at home or on campus - period. So yes, as the child of an employee, I was in a different class from most of those students - not everyone attending St. Johns had boatloads of money. There are more than a few farmers back around my parent's home who have degrees from St. Johns. And not in Animal Husbandry or biology, or anything so particularly appropriate. I know I shouldn't measure myself against their version of a yardstick. It's easy to climb to the top of the ladder when you start out three steps from the top. It's much harder when you have to build your own ladder. But I have no other choice but to do it my own way, so do it I will. Pick myself up, dust myself off, and start all over again. As many times as it takes.
[Link]
Isn't America a wonderful place? We insist on freedom of speech, yet to run an advertisement on the air during the superbowl - nah, that ist verboten. Though I'm told Georgie and his cabal will have an ad airing during the Super Bowl. I'm betting it won't be old Yalie Cheerleader George landing on a carrier - that stunt will come back to haunt him. Sad, isn't it, when one of the old bastions of "impartiality" - one of those fine organizations which purports to represent the viewpoint of all refuses - absolutely refuses - two million dollars for thirty seconds of that "free speech". I'd be disgusted, but I'm too sickened by it. I'm sure Murrow is twirling his way to China, and Cronkhite, well, he's probably disgusted, as well. Then again, what do I know. I'm just a snot-nosed punk. Who votes.
[Link] -o) Chapter 1: THE PERKS OF BEING OVER 50
-o) Chapter 2: GAMES FOR WHEN YOU ARE OLDER
-o) Chapter 3: SIGNS OF MENOPAUSE
-o) Chapter 4: SIGNS OF WEAR
"OLD" IS WHEN..... Your friends compliment you on your new alligator shoes, and you're barefoot. "OLD" IS WHEN..... A sexy babe catches your fancy and your pacemaker opens the garage door. "OLD" IS WHEN..... Going braless pulls all the wrinkles out of your face. "OLD" IS WHEN..... You don't care where your spouse goes, just as long as you don't have to go along. "OLD" IS WHEN..... You are cautioned to slow down by the doctor instead of by the police. "OLD" IS WHEN..... "Getting a little action" means I don't need to take any fiber today. "OLD" IS WHEN..... "Getting lucky" means you find your car in the parking lot. "OLD" IS WHEN..... An "all-nighter" means not getting up to pee. -o) If you're under 50, this may be amusing. If you're over 50, this is probably reality |
Update At 2140 I've decaffienated and de-chocolated myself. I had one chocolate truffle brownie leftover from Sunday yesterday - prior to that, I'd had chocolate on Sunday - prior to that, it had been at least two days. Part of it is an expense-related measure - we don't NEED chocolate. Caffiene? Well, I was regularly drinking three cans of Mountain Dew a day when working, and had some over Christmas. I don't think I've had caffiene in about a week or so with the sole exception of Friday night. I think everyone survived the last time I tried this. I just don't know if I'm going to.
[Link] |
Update At 1640
Bloody cold this morning. -19 air temp (though the TV kept saying -15). Then, when we left to drop Ann at the bus (she wanted to go in a half-hour late) the traffic was HORRIBLE. Usually it's at least moving, but this was dead-stop or stop-lots-and-go-little for almost a mile before we could get off. Of course, no day would be perfect without a screwup from yours truly - as my morning routine was disrupted, I hadn't grabbed my wallet. What had been a quarter-tank of gas last night dipped considerably while we were sitting in traffic. So I had to stop by a gas station on the way home. I stopped by the usual SA, and pulled up to Pump 2. Little tip for you - if you pull up to a pump and it's flashing anything, move on. This pump looked fine - though every few seconds out of the corner of my eye would flicker an error message of sorts. Err something, it looked like. Never mind, I was using pay at the pump. Borrowed Ann's card - stuck it in - pulled it out - the machine said "select fuel and begin pumping". So I did. It pumped all of 15¢ worth of gas before stopping. I tried to restart it - four or five times - then looked at the pump. Oh. Error 31. Lovely. Went in - asked the manager (the fool behind the counter with lots of money scattered all over his countertop) what to do. He said "back up and use another pump, we'll clear that one." Damn, too bad it wasn't a buck. So I did so. Ann was still holding the contact she'd removed earlier from her eye because it bothered her. She wasn't looking too happy, but what do you do? I went inside to pay. The card is swiped, the receipts print, and my phone rings. Someone wanting to chat... "I'm sorry, sir, but " (ohshitohshitohshitohshitohshitohshitohshitWaitAMinute - I know there's money there) "I need to see some identification." "Why? Oh, that's my wife's card." Best smile. Back to the phone. "Do you have any ID?" Tight smile at the young lady. "I'll get back to you, OK?" Hang up the phone. "No, I'm sorry, I don't. I had to come in here because your pay-at-the-pump isn't working, I left home without my wallet by mistake, and my wife is in the car ..." sudden inspiration "... she's not feeling well. I suppose I could have her come in here and puke on you if you'd like." "Well, we need some ID." "Okay, I'll go get my wife - do you have a bucket or something? Or should I just use the doughnut bags?" (make move towards door). "Better have one ready - she's been puking a lot." "Uh, sir? Just sign the slip - I recognize you." Phew. Sign slip, back to the car. "What was that fuss?" "I used your card, and they caught me..." Don't get me wrong - I'm 100% in favor of people checking the information on the card. And I should go back and thank those people - but thank GOD the guy bought the barf bit. Hey, don't laugh - I once had a sister blow up next to me while waiting at a gas station. Black vehicle interior, warm summer day - the kid literally blew chunks all over the windshield, and covered the area in front of her from floor to ceiling. For years after there were little white spots in the ceiling cloth where stomach acid had bleached out the color.
[Link] After last Friday I thought I was the gassiest being on the planet. Not only did I lose that crown, I've been set to rights in another department as well. Though one really has to wonder just what the hell the editor of the piece was thinking when you get to the last two paragraphs. I was reading along and then ... whoa, hey, what? Like I said. Inadequate in two departments.
[Link] On the other hand, it could very well be "we'll pitch it low and then when it's passed we'll put out the real price." Wasn't the Republican Party the party of smaller goverment, less taxes, and a balanced budget? Or are they just liars? I'm beginning to wish I'd run for President. Sure, it's a tough job, but ... well, I guess I'm ultimately unqualified. I mean, I'd have to lie, cheat, steal, and do all sorts of other things. I don't know that I could lower my standards.
[Link] I do have to admit, though, that my favorite "it's damned cold" line comes from the movie Cool Runnings where Sanka Coffie says "I'm freezing my royal Rastafarian naynays off!"
[Link] The kids watched through the third period (did I mention that downtown St. Paul is about forty minutes without traffic from here?). They watched through almost the entire overtime. With 26 seconds left, the Montreal Canadiens scored - and broke the tie. THEN, the children informed me the Hockey game was over. Okay - up from my interview questions worksheet - get everyone into a coat and boots (just in case) and bring blankies, and out into the car (-19 in the driveway), off onto the road, and away we went. We did get to see the ice palace all lit up where a bus transfer lot (mostly a vacant lot, really) used to be. Pretty slick. Came back home and finally realized that back on November 19th you folks didn't get to see all this lovely artwork there to the right because doofus himself here forgot to upload it.
[Link] Now I've got a wee little plug-in heater running on low in the garage (yes, it's got all sorts of protections and automated shutoffs), and it keeps the garage above freezing. Imagine that - insulated walls and an insulated door and I can use a little space-heater to make a fifty-degree difference. Canada's not so cold. Especially when your naynays are completely frozen solid. |
Update At 1145 The coldest morning I can ever recall was one morning - in January, naturally - when the thermometer wasn't reading. It stopped at forty below, and the needle quivvered just below that minus-forty mark. But I watched for the bus, and when I saw it, I zipped my hood up the rest of the way, pulled on my gloves and took off out the door. After hollering "BUS!" at the top of my lungs to penetrate the hoods, hats, and scarves of my four sisters. Our driveway wasn't overly long. Perhaps forty or fifty yards. It seemed much longer in the afternoons when I charged down the steps of the bus, down the driveway, negotiated a quick left-right-right-left-left-left-right-left to stand myself in front of the easiest throne to get to (there was a less circuitious route - left-right-downstairs-left-180 and there was the basement throne, or "the long route" - left-right-right-right-left-downstairs-right-left - the key benefit between the first route and the other two is that all routes demanded I go up two steps into the house - the latter routes then combined downstairs travel - and pounding DOWN on a full bladder seemed to me to be incredibly short-sighted - and dangerous). But when it comes to school, apparently we were a bit odd. I'd dress in my cotton-poly pants (no denim allowed for many years), my standard socks and tennis shoes. Then I'd pull on my rubber overshoes. That was footwear. Top half, if it was brutally cold (as that day was), I'd add a tee shirt AND sweater to the usual light-blue shirt. Over that would go a winter coat (varied - I had a burgundy-colored parka for some time, as well as a blaze-orange ski jacket - no hood). Then, mittens - if I was unfortunate. Some years, I had hand-made mittens with "idiot strings" - mom would knit the mittens, and then keep on knitting right down across the back and up the other arm - and there you had it - a pair of mittens you couldn't lose. Even if you wanted to. Some kids on the bus figured out that if they'd pull one mitten, the other arm would shorten up - occasionally, were I unprepared for it, my other arm would end up whacking me in the head. Not a pleasant bus ride. For some years I was most fortunate and had gloves. When I reached high school, I started saving my money to buy my own. The very, very best pair of mittens I ever had were a pair of ... well, gauntlets. I hesitate to call them "mittens" because they were actually three-fingered jobs. My thumb and forefinger were separated with their own channels, and the other three fingers were stuck together. I did end up looking a bit like a cartoon figure, but it worked. They went up my arm half-way to my elbow in a gentle flare - with a tight wristband to keep the heat in around my fingers. On very cold days where I'd be outside for some time I'd borrow a pair of one of my sister's little knit gloves. Nothing really fancy, just something to keep my other three fingers from sticking together from the sweat, mostly - and put those on before the monster mitts. Hats varied. For some years I wore a purple tossle cap which had the sole benefit of not being made by my mother. For some reason my mother insisted that hats - especially "tossle caps" (that style of hat which many rappers and other warm-weather idiots now seem to favor because they "look cool" - er, warm, bonehead, warm. The "tossle" came from the bit of multi-colored fluff at the peak) fit tightly. Not a problem - unless your head was still growing. I had headaches when I wore one for the entire bus ride to school (we lived a little over two miles from school, but were the third stop - so it was probably a twenty-minute ride). Not to mention the inevitable "hat hair". No snowpants, no state laws prohibiting outdoor recess, no wind-chill warnings, none of this fancy stuff. I recall in High School setting up for a dance and being surprised when it was called off. Yes, it was in the minus-thirty range, but the decision was ultimately made because the city plows were having problems keeping the snow that had fallen earlier in the week from drifting streets closed (thirty-to-fifty mph wind gusts - kinda ruined Saturday night there). This morning it was minus twenty-nine at our house. Few of the euphamisms I know for that cold are printable in a family-friendly page, so I'll spare you. Obviously, our air came from northwards, where there are Canadians outside playing (or perhaps not - they're a smart and hardy bunch), so there's little point in complaining. We're due a break this weekend for a bit (above-zero temps! Whoo hoo! Break out the shorts!) and then Back into the Deep Freeze. Our local Boy-Weather says "this next week could be the coldest yet!" Oy.
[Link] I'd been using Netscape Navigator when I first got onto the internet - and then I got a copy of IE 3.0 - and wow, was that an improvement. I switched, and didn't look back. IE 4.0 was a massive improvement - 5.0 less so. 6.0 was a non-starter, but I stuck with it because, well, I had grown used to it. Then the holes and the bobbles and the problems began. I got tired of patching and reading or hearing that Patch X broke functionality Y. Anywhere that I had the freedom and authority to do so, I dropped IE in favor of Netscape. 6.0 was good, but when I upgraded to 7.0, things started going south. Minor annoyances, certainly, but things. Stuff like the inability to see the entire preferences screen. I'd select Edit, Preferences (how oddly Mac-like) and I'd get a dialog box which was, in most cases, about 1/3 smaller than I needed it. I could see options extending off the edge of the window, and couldn't resize or scroll. I learned to live with it. Earlier this week I figured "what the heck, upgrade, 7.1's been out long enough that the show-stoppers have been found." Apparently not on my Toshiba Laptop. The package was, to put it simply, crap. In one day I had five lockups - complete, full-system lockups. I couldn't open as many windows as I'd previously done - and there were other weird occurrences. So last night I downloaded and installed Mozilla Firebird 0.7. So far, there are no utter show-stoppers. Yeah, it doesn't render all pages properly (one would think they'd at least look at CNN.COM for a test - but either the CSS CNN uses or something else really freaks out firebird, because the entire left-edge button menu is gone - doesn't bother me, I don't use it, but it's a minor annoyance). And it's got some weird behavior - like a rather uneven jump between font sizes when you adjust them using your mouse wheel - but that's minor. It's faster, seems more stable, and certainly I've been able to open up at least as many windows as I had under Netscape 6.0 - so that's a good thing. The one "little joy-bubble" I did find was when I went to Weather.com to check the forecast. I have a rather nasty habit of deciding "that's enough cookies, yer done" and blocking after a while. Whatever I did, I put the site into a loop - back and forth between Jump.html and jump3.html - about a second apiece. That was fun to watch.
[Link] It occurred to me this morning why - it's another fine euphamism for lying. Yes, lying. "Social Engineering" is a fancy way of saying "they're looking to deceive you." Prime example - I look at security web sites and other things - I'm putting together a newsletter for some hopefully-new clients, so I'm in and out of questionable web sites all day long. I'm careful (one of the reasons I don't use IE on the internet - just to preview local sites on my hard drive), but lately it seems that two or three times a week I'll find that Norton has discovered a virus in one of my internet files. It never does anything (note to self - remember to figure out how to re-up the Norton AV subscription by early March), but it's disturbing. How many people are surfing legitimate sites with this stuff hidden in it - and they get bit? Here's another example. Some asshole who is very, very good at forging headers has started sending out spam which represents to be a shipping confirmation from Amazon.com. Instead, Mr. Chun Pu (if that's his real name), the owner of OEM-Expert.biz, who has as his e-mail androis_59_sdk@china.com.cn, is trying to sell software. Mind you, I somewhat doubt that this is legitimate, legal, and registerable software - but Mr. Chun may not give a rat's behind. The firm vchay, Ltd. does not appear on the internet, sadly - though should you be so inclined if you're ever in China, you might visit Mr. Chun in the mud hut located at 3 Blvd 38/2, in the city of Tako, China. You could also call him at +93.827462534. I'm not going to waste my nickel on him - I doubt Mr. Chun would have anything worthwhile to say. Mr. Chun, however, has managed to "socially engineer" me into opening his e-mail. Well, I didn't open it - I checked it out via the properties trick (this differs on true outlook - in Outlook Express, right click the message, select Properties, select the Details tab, and select the Message Source button - then you can view the entire message's source). I scrubbed the cruft and crap out and found a list of over a dozen domains.
http://www.amy.com/ OEM-Expert.biz was mentioned most often. I'm going to add all of these to my banned list - just in case.
[Link] Her first trip was with a friend who had season tickets - down near the ice. Three rows up, behind the tall glass. She said "you can see the expressions on their faces when they get slammed into the boards." Bloodthirsty wench, that woman is. Last night's trip was courtesy of a drawing where she works - one of their vendors invited a few people to go to the game in their luxury box. From the description of it, I doubt I'll ever be able to impress the woman again. It started at the gate - instead of going through with the riff-raff and getting patted down, she was respectfully directed to the "riff-raff-free" entrance, where they asked her nicely if they could check her coat and belongings. Once into the hoi-polloi region, she got to the box - and oh, my. Free food in the box, all-you-can-drink soda, good seats, room for eighteen in the box (officially - though you can get more in), and freebies. She came home with a CD holder with the Wild Logo on it, along with a couple coupons. Oh well. Nice work if you can get it.
[Link] This disturbed my sleep for much of last night. The potential that global warming could happen quickly and cause an outbreak of war? Who knows. "Gentlemen, Start Yer Banjos!" Man, I love this one. "You object to the teaching of Evolution? Well, we'll just change the name." Oh, boy. There's inmates running the asylum and then there's morons in the Board of Education. And Mr. Farquhar's post for today (I'm so glad Dave put up his new site - I hadn't read him since December, since there's some sort of interaction between his server and my ISP or something) had a link to Robert Cringley's rant on outsourcing. I just want to know one thing - when the Republican analyst says we earn $1.14 for every job we send over to India because of "lower-paid workers moving to higher-paid jobs" where the hell does that happen? In my experience, it's the other direction - mine workers on the Range losing their high-paid mining jobs and end up working in the local grocery store, or engineers being laid off and working for McDonalds. I just wish I could live in the fantasy land these guys do. One other thought that was brought to my attention by Mr. Gerlach yesterday - what if Saddam Hussein's weapons programs were riddled with crooks who were taking the money he was shoveling out and actually producing nothing? What if when he said "HIDE THEM!" they all said "certainly - it's done!" and ran off with the money? Wouldn't that explain the issue of why we can't find the WMDs? Perhaps - but if there were thousands of dollars going into bogus WMD factories which were producing countless tons of WMDs,
To my mind, if the weapons of mass destruction do turn out to be a cheating hoax, then the President's got even more to answer for than I thought. He's killed well over 500 servicemen and women all over a hoax - why didn't we just set up on Saddam's border and threaten him? He could have bankrupted himself - or is it that this generation and this president have all the patience TV gave them? There's a scary thought. And so I don't end on that note, I'll leave you with this. That's the Ice Palace in the foreground, and in the upper left is the St. Paul Cathedral with the new (well, last year) copper on the dome. In the upper right is the Minnesota Historical Society headquarters and museum.
[Link] At the time I said
And then, today, this. And both of the above-mentioned sites are no longer with us. Gee. Either the FTC is almost as smart as I am, or they already thumped these guys. Either way, it works for me. |
Update At We'd get there, into the house, and plunk down. There, in front of the TV, would be chips and dip (we weren't allowed to have food in the living room). If I was exceptionally fortunate, I could go out into the kitchen and get one of those big old glass bottles of Pepsi. It took two hands to drink out of, and would usually make me burp - a lot - in the second half. I remember for the first few years the "goalposts" were actually on the goal line. My wife, the Redhead Who Lives With Me (RWLWM), does not believe that ever was so in professional football. I can remember guys looking over their shoulders, looking for balls - and running balls-first into the post. I think I've seen film of a very old game where the old "H" goalposts were used and some fellow did similar - and snapped the thing off at the ground, causing the entire "H" to fall over. But the game on TV was the focus. Some years, CBS (the network that broadcast the NFC in those days) would assign two guys who were trying to move up from high school to college ranks in the play-by-play department, and they'd mispronounce names - though admittedly "Tarkenton" was one that would slow you down a bit. Especially when you put "Fran" in front of it - not an especially macho name, you ask me. There were years when the games wouldn't sell out - and you couldn't see the game if you lived in the metro area. We were fortunate - just up the road from St. Cloud was Alexandria, which is in the center (so they say) of Minnesota Lake Country. Big whoop. The real deal was the fact that they had a TV station - that was a CBS affiliate. Since Alex was outside the "Broadcast Exclusion Zone" they could broadcast the game. Sure, the ads were horribly cheesy, but the game was on. Those years, one of my aunts would haul out an AM radio, turn off the sound, and turn on the radio - the play-by-play was better and because one of the Twin Cities radio stations ran "The Minnesota Vikings Radio Network" - which was most of the stations in the state, it seemed like - and they would all broadcast the game. So they could afford to send their own dedicated announcers - usually one good play-by-play sports guy and one former player for "color" to the stadium, so at least you got someone who could pronounce the tough names - like Ahmad Rashad (Bud Grant always called him "Akmed"). Back in those days, there were only a few domed stadiums - heck, there were really two - Houston and Nawlins - er, New Orleans. So there were days where the "turf" was torn up and the muddy conditions were absolutely horrible. The white pants the Vikings wore would be covered in brown muck (and sometimes blood). But there was something about the players back then. 88 - Carl Eller. 81 - Alan Page. 70 - Jim Marshall. The "Wright Brothers" (Jeff and Bob Wright - no relation; heck, they weren't even the same color). Paul Krause. Fran Tarkenton, Bill Brown, Chuck Foreman... Even Bob Lurtsema (75). Big guys - monsterous guys - fearsome guys - especially if you really rang Marshall's bell and gave him the ball (ran the wrong way on a fumble recovery and turned it into points for the other team). But the Vikings were a fall and early-winter ritual. I remember as I got older, events would be scheduled for Sunday afternoons. I remember one early-December Sunday when the Vikings were, as I recall, out of the playoff picture, and were playing the San Francisco 49ers. The 49ers had run up a rather painful 27-point lead by the time we left to go to a band concert. We got there early, Dad got a close parking spot, and we went in. After we performed, Dad went back out to the car. I had an Aunt and Uncle at the game as well - Larry and his wife had tickets for the old Met Center (where the Megamall now stands). Early in the fourth quarter, they bundled up the blankets and headed out to the van to drive back home. And they listened in their van, while my father listened miles away in his car to one of the greatest comebacks I never heard. Tommy Kramer came in with about eight minutes left in the game (to get experience in leading a team with nothing to play for, apparently), and managed to motivate them into scoring four unanswered touchdowns - and more importantly, four extra points. The final score was 28-27 Vikings, and my father was telling us how exciting it was to be sitting out in the parking lot pounding on the steering wheel - there were three or four other fathers out there at the same time, doing the same thing. Fortunately, I'd played already, so it didn't bother me. Actually, it did - I'd rather have been out in the car listening to the game, myself. Today, I see at least Carl Eller got some satisfaction. Marshall, in my book, deserves to be there too - as do the other members of the Purple People Eaters. Then again, maybe it's better that they aren't - they're still a pretty big deal to me. Heck, Paul Krause used to be on the county board where we used to live. Small world. |
Update At 2220 Today? Not much worthy of comment. Got up, headed to church for Scout Sunday - er, should have been at the 9 am mass, but I overslept. So it goes. So we toured the school and saw all the stuff on the walls for Catholic Schools week, then realized that we had to have Rhiannon clear across Burnsville - in twenty minutes. Back into the car (did I mention the four inches of snow last night, and it was still snowing - so far I think we got about five), up the hill to the house, and then Rhiannon had to get her dirty clothes out of her room so Ann could start Laundry. Then I ran Rhiannon across town, and came back - that took nearly an hour (normally it's a twenty minute job, tops). Then plunked down before the computer to do the "Cookies 2004" Spreadsheet. Each year Rhiannon does Girl Scout Cookies, I get smarter and schmarter. This year I put names and addresses (if I had 'em) into the spreadsheet, along with what was ordered. I'll then generate labels with what's been ordered so we can pack up the orders and get them properly delivered in early March. Then, BACK to get Rhiannon, back home, and packed up to head over to a friend's house to fix some important software - seems her Cards.DLL file went corrupt, and she got a copy of CARDS.DLL from someone else. She's running Windows 98 SE, while the person she got the copy from is running XP. Um, no, I think that might cause a problem. So I copied SOL.EXE, CARDS.DLL, FREECELL.EXE, and MSHEARTS.EXE to a floppy, grabbed my Norton Disk, and headed over. This patient was an IBM Aptiva - nice computer, not nearly so buried under the various bits and pieces of fluff - and the problem seemed straightforward - Solitare would refuse to load. I ran Norton, which reported remarkably few conflicts or problems, did a quick browse of the registry and fixed a few links to files that weren't working (um, a ? instead of a : is a bad thing), and then tried Solitare. It promptly imploded with a similar error message to one I'd once seen - a doubled-up dose of "This program has performed an illegal operation and shall be taken out behind the monitor and pounded until it agrees to behave better." Okay, then. I started the old Ctrl-Alt-Del fishing (you know, killing services that aren't necessary), and after the third (something called "minimavis") suddenly Solitare cooperated. What's worse, one of the many little icons littering the system tray had gone missing - but I hadn't taken the time or brain cells to note which one. Ach well, we'll restart. And at the end of that, I noticed a "new" icon - a largish M. I right clicked, and it was for a Broderbund (hawk-spit) product called "Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing 15.0". Dear God, I date myself - I used to recommend 2.0 when I ran a software store. Be that as it may, the (hawk-spit) fine folks of Broderbund (snort-hawk-spit-SPLAT) have really outdone themselves on this one. After a bit of digging and scratching, it became painfully apparent that there was no way to shut off Mavis' little pain-in-the-butt program. Well, perhaps it came in the install process. So I got permission and then removed dear old (hawk-spit - someone get me a drink and a spitoon, please?) Mavis Beacon. Reinstall. I've worked with software for a lot of years, ladies and gents, and I can honestly not remember a program that presented FEWER options for installation - and required more information from me. After filling in the usual "first name/last name/address/firstborn name/social security number/underwear size/etc" fluff with "Ima Chimp, Monkeys, Inc., Big Block House, Zooville, Micronesia" and let it go from there, I looked in on Mavis' state-of-the-art typing tutorial software. And nowhere - NOWHERE - was an option to tell the little "M" icon in the system tray to go fornicate itself. I'm all for convenience, don't get me wrong. But when you install software and give me exactly zero options? Well, I'd place my foot so far up your keester you'd see my toes when you opened your mouth to brush your teeth, frankly. That is, were you close enough. I then passed my recommendation on to the family (one, remove Mavis Beacon and take it back - tell the place that the software is defective, or two, just shut off that damned M icon each time you boot up), we ate pizza, and watched some of the advertising - along with one of the slower-starting football games I've ever seen - and mind you, we didn't tune in until nearly the middle of the second quarter (just in time to see the romantic Bud Light ad with the horse fart - boy, I tell ya, bathroom humor). After watching some of the worst officiating I've seen in years (not that I've seen a lot of football, but that was plenty 'nuff, thanks), we headed back home in a "slip-sliding away" fashion, only to learn that the snow will start tomorrow morning - and we should expect about six inches. Lovely. We've already got about a foot on the snow - light, fluffy powder. Six more inches on that, and then all we need is wind and we've got ourselves a right mess. Well, it's February, now, which means it won't be long and the real storms (and spring) will soon arrive... |
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