Guinness for Strength

The Nuclear Issue - Today and Yesterday

2011-04-07T23:29:00.000-04:00

With the recent earthquake and tsunami that hit Japan last month and the subsequent crisis at the Fukushima Nuclear Power Plant I've been pondering nuclear power's place in our world. Not continuously or obsessively but much more frequently than in the recent past.

Foregoing the merits of fledgling alternative energy sources such as wind, solar, and the like, the energy debate is the same as it's always been:

We can't rely on fossil fuels forever, for obvious environmental and availability reasons. Nor can we run the risks of an entirely nuclear power structure due to the instant calamities when things don't go as planned (Fukushima, Chernobyl) coupled with the generations-long (centuries-long is more like it) danger of containing the spent radioactive materials once they've been sucked of all their usefulness to us. Those spent materials may be useless for producing energy but they sure can mess things up if they're not properly contained.

I'm well aware that this is painfully simplified and I support all efforts for alternative energy production. This dichotomy is only being used to set up the crux of this post. So, please, if you happen upon this backwater of the internet and have a gazillion ideas on 'sustainable, renewable, etc., etc.' energy - that's great. Just exhibit some reserve in demonstrating how ignorant I am on the subject. I'm already well aware of that.

That being said, it seems there was a time when I was much more enlightened on the subject of nuclear power. In fact, I've already penned a document on it.

It wasn't published in a newspaper, magazine, or science periodical. It wasn't even published on the Internet. To be fair, the Internet barely existed when it was written.

This document was written when the backbone of the modern Internet was still three years away, "Ordinary People" won the Oscar for best picture, and "Sailing" by Christopher Cross was both song and record of the year. This document was written when I was ten years old.

There was a program in my elementary school called 'Dimensions'. It was, as much as I can remember, an extra-academic program for select students to enhance their educational experience. One of the projects we worked on was to have the students create newspaper-like editorials on important current events of the time. Or, at least, the events remembered from the previous decade by those who were just a decade old.

I don't recall whether we were assigned our topics or chose them ourselves, perhaps from some predetermined list. Regardless, my current event topic was the 1979 nuclear meltdown of Three Mile Island in Pennsylvania.

Created and written some time in 1980, here is the project's introduction and my contribution:

*-----------------------------------------------------------------*
Introduction
Right before the beginning of 1980, we started to do a lot about things that happened in the "Seventies." We finally decided to make a book. So, we picked some of the biggest events of the "Seventies" and put them together to make this book. Each person in the program wrote one article. We all agreed that one of the biggest events of the "Seventies" was the taking of hostages in Iran. So, we would like to dedicate this book to the fifty Americans held hostage in Iran.

We hope you enjoy our book!

Dimensions 1979-80

Three Mile Island

In the dead of night, the hulks of four 372-X cooling towers and two high-domed nuclear reactor container buildings were scarcely discernable (sic) above the gentle waters of the Susquehanna River, eleven miles southeast of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Inside the brightly lit control room of Metropolitan Edsion's (sic) unit 2, technicians on the lobster shift, April 4, faced a tranquil, even boring watch. Suddenly at 4 A.M., alarm lights blinked red on their instrument panels. A siren whooped a warning.

In the understated jargon of the nuclear power industry, an "event" had occured (sic). In plain English, it was the beginning of the worst accident in the history of the U.S. nuclear power production, and of a long, often confused nightmare that threw the future of the nuclear industry into question.

The problem was solved that a huge turbine engine which generates electricity had "tripped." At first, the technicians thought that it would be easy to fix. However, they were wrong.

Radioactive steam and gas filled the air around the plant for the next several days. The Governor, Richard Thornburgh, suggested that women and preschool children leave the area.

Engineering tried to cool down the "core." If they couldn't cool it down, a "melt-down" would occur, where gases would escape and eat through the concrete walls. Luckily this did not happen, although it did get people angry enough. However, the fight still goes on....... NO NUKES!!!!!!.........

*-----------------------------------------------------------------*

A bit disjointed with some lack of continuity and obvious spelling and grammatical errors for sure. But we were still using mimeograph... and I was ten. Cut me a break, eh?

What I find interesting about this piece is two-fold:

The first and most obvious is that not much has changed in the 30 years hence regarding the safety and security of nuclear energy. It is still an amazing way for us to meet the growing energy demands of an ever-growing world population. Many nuclear power plants across the globe are silently, albeit dangerously, producing power for millions of people. But how safe is it? We can't rely on it forever, for sure. At some point our comeuppance is due. Are we really prepared for that day? We've been relatively lucky up to this point. Relatively being the operative word.

We may understand how to harness the Dragon for its power... but do we really know how to control that Dragon when it breaks our reins?

The second interesting point I've taken from this long, almost lost* document is - at least I know my affinity for ellipses, excessive commas, and "quotation" marks has been a long and deep-seeded affectation of my writing style for just about my entire life. At least since I've been able to put somewhat coherent thoughts and sentences together in writing. Although, I'll let you be the judge on the coherency bit.

Franklin Public Schools taught me well - but one of my English teachers could've pointed out at least one of these foibles. On second thought, they probably did... I just never listened.

*Thanks to my long-time, childhood and still good friend M.T. for preserving this document for all these years. He produced it at a Poker Night we had a few years ago and let me borrow it for reminiscing. It is now 31 years old and is filled with the writings and ramblings of many pre-teens and their recollections of the 1970s - the decade of our youth. I'm thinking of transcribing the entire "book," either here on this blog or in its own space.

If you're interested in reading more or were a part of this project back at Oak Street Elementary School in Franklin, MA in 1980 please let me know.

p.s. As a note of pride and a nod to my ten year old self, I have to say I quite like the tone-setting sentence "A siren whooped a warning." that ended the opening paragraph. Thank you, Miss Modess (I hope that's the correct spelling) - I'm sure you helped me with that one!

Breakin' (In) 2 - Electric Boogaloo

2010-04-29T00:48:00.000-04:00

Wow.

I'm shocked and awed by the number of comments I've received on my last couple of posts. Something tells me that I'm not paying attention. There has to be some sort of new link system or whatever that sends people to different blogs.

I'm appreciative of the legitimate bloggers and readers that have left comments: [Wayne; Alices Wonderland; Lauralaie; DanielPhillips; ishmael; Shirley E Hardy; Dave Bennett; Professor Howdy]

Thank you all. As surprised that I am there are that many new 'readers', thank you. I don't post often but that's my own personal quirk. I'm hoping to change that. Welcome. However, there were still some questionable comments left on my last post that seemed a bit dubious. I deleted them. Sue me.

I suppose I'm just not cool with people taking advantage of other people's work for self-promotion disguised as admiration. If you leave a comment unrelated to the topic and directing people to another blog or site, you're a douche.

I'm not sure who - or what - owns "blogger" these days (note to self: look into that) but I've had mega comments recently and I only make note of it because it's completely different from the response I've seen in the previous 4 years I've been posting nonsense here.

On one hand, I'm glad that people out there are reading my blog. On the other hand, it seems it's becoming something to look out for - if I'm going to be continuously battling spam comments and bullshit content, I may be better off going elsewhere...

Anyway, that's to suss another day.

*-----------------------------------------------------------------------*

The subject of this post is the fact that my neighbor's house was broken into yesterday.

As I arrived home around 7:40 p.m. yesterday, I noticed a load of police cars jammed into the driveway of my immediate neighbor. Four or five of them were packed in - three in the driveway, two on the road... It was quite disconcerting.

I had no sooner finished my dinner (a take-away sandwich from the shop up the street) when a policeman rapped on my door.

Answering the door, the officer asked me if I'd noticed anything 'out of the ordinary' that morning. Unfortunately, I hadn't.

There would've been nothing better for me than if I was able to say, "yeah, I saw a couple of suspect dudes in such-and-such a vehicle that I didn't quite get." However, I hadn't seen anything - or, at least, nothing I remembered.

The officer mentioned that a neighbor across the street saw a silver (or grey?) pick-up truck and asked if I had seen the same. I hadn't.

I feel for my neighbors, as they've just only moved in within the past 3-8 months. My bad for not knowing exactly when they'd arrived.

However selfishly, my concern goes towards whether my home is the next target or not. I've made it through day one, post-neighbor-break in, and I'm feeling pretty good. My house is a bit more 'visible' when it comes to the immediate neighborhood... but it's still a bit freaky, all things considered.

So, for now, things are good... for me, anyway. I'm not happy that my neighbors have had this happen to them but, in the sense of personal preservation, I'm glad that it wasn't me dealing with the aftermath.

Perhaps this will inspire me to make acquaintance with my (recently) new neighbors... and we can work together on keeping our shared place more safe.

A Couple of Observations

2010-03-17T23:16:00.001-04:00

I've noticed a big increase in the number of crap comments posted on my posts (what few there are). Typically, I can tell who it was that left the comment based on user name or content. Sometimes it takes a bit more research - but, based on the content, it's apparent that it was a) someone I know personally or b) someone who (somehow) stumbled upon this random splattering of rubbish and was genuinely commenting on the content.

The people in the "b" group are few and far between, to be sure. Nonetheless, they're more than welcome - and well appreciated. Thank you, group "b" people!

(obviously, I well appreciate the folks in group "a" as well)

However, since the new year, I've had loads of comment "dumps" (all in some sort of Asian symbolism) and individual "spam" comments.

You know what I say to those people/machines? Fuck you, you parasitic douches.

I really don't understand it. Either you're trying to get some bullshit virus or spyware downloaded - or you're trying to get people to link to your site and buy some sort of crap product. In either case, you suck.

You think you're clever. You think you may get one over on someone. Truth is, you're not clever. Nor are you a success in getting one over. What it means is, you're a fucking loser.

There's no debating that.

I'm well aware this will do nothing to stop the process (and may even attract more, though I'm suspicious whether the content is ever read to begin with). I just wanted to whinge about the fact that these assholes exist.

And the fact that they suck bollocks.

Another observation I've had: I much prefer Kari Byron on Mythbusters than her maternity leave replacement, Jessi Combs. Nothing against Jessi. I simply prefer Kari:

After all, who said science has to be boring?

Happy Flippin' New Year

2010-01-01T22:50:00.002-05:00

All in all, I suppose it was a fairly decent decade, the 'aughts'. My personal best accomplishment has to be the purchasing of my first home in the spring of 2008. Late in the decade as it was, it's the biggest change I've made in the past 10 years. Outside of that, the most drastic of changes - not withstanding the geo-political nonsense we find ourselves in as a nation - have to be those of the local sports scene and my personal investment in it. For better or for worse.

When the decade began, it had been 80+ years since the Red Sox last won a World Series. The Celtics hadn't been NBA champs since the 1985-86 season. The Bruins were on a stretch lasting twice as long, going back 28 years to 1972. And the youngest of the local four franchises, the Patriots, had never experienced the opportunity of being labeled 'Champions'.

At the time, I'd classify my sports enthusiasm as being above average. I was engaged enough in all of them to be aware of the ongoing successes (and failures) of each team but my team of choice was the Boston Bruins. That was the team I most hoped would get back to the top and take home the Stanley Cup. Unfortunately, it appeared that owner Jeremy Jacobs and management (Harry Sinden and Mike O'Connell) seemed not to have the same desire. At least it appeared that way based on the player contract decisions being made.

I had (and still have) all but lost any interest in the Celtics, and the NBA in particular, due to the way the NBA devolved into a me-first league filled with showboaters and seemed hellbent on promoting a player-first, team-second league. I still feel this way. I don't think I'll ever be interested in the NBA again - not like I was as a kid and my teen years.

Baseball wasn't a huge priority, either, but I was interested in the Sox even while they were fielding abominations of teams. Joining a fantasy baseball league increased my interest greatly, however. As did Pedro Martinez, who landed in Boston via trade before the 1998 season. Luckily, that also coincided somewhat with the selling of the team to the current ownership four years later, when the team's fortunes seemed to take a turn for the better.

The Pats? There was excitement which went back to the Bledsoe signing in the early-90s, and the hiring of Bill Parcells as head coach, but they never seemed to be good enough to compete with the elite in the NFL.

However, everything changed on a snowy (very snowy) night in January 2001 during a playoff game against the Oakland Raiders at Foxboro stadium. I won't get into the details but the win they pulled out in that game was the beginning of a heightening of my sports enthusiasm that would last for the next three to four years.

I was at the house of a friend for "Italian Night" for that playoff game. A core group of 'chefs' spent the day in his kitchen making all sorts of delicious Italian food - home-made pastas, timpano, deserts, and the like. The snow had been falling all day and night and, needless to say, the beer and wine was going down just as smoothly. When the game ended, we all rushed out of the house and - with the lights of the stadium visible in the distance - hooted and hollered in jubiliation. Snow angels were made. It was delightful.

The Patriots went on to shock the high-powered St. Louis Rams in the New Orleans Superdome to take the franchise's first ever Super Bowl victory. The Lombardi Trophy belonged to the "lowly" Patsies. Unbelievable.

At that point, the Bruins were still terrible; the Red Sox were getting marginally better; and the Celtics managed a decent showing in the NBA playoffs the following year. But that was it. Still, the Patriots Super Bowl victory had the effect of turning up the volume on the station in my brain that was tuned to the local sports scene.

Then the avalanche began. The Patriots, led by young quarterback Tom Brady and the seemingly infallible mind of head coach Bill Belichick and his equally competent assistant staff, went on to capture two more Lombardis - back to back - in 2003 and 2004. Patriots euphoria ruled the land (at least New Eng-'land'). I was hooked. During the stretch, it was an odd Sunday afternoon when my mates and I weren't found cooking up delicious food while watching the Pats battle whatever hapless bunch happened to be on the schedule that week.

Meanwhile, the Red Sox were putting together pieces of their own and quietly improving their squad, summer after summer. 2003 was a precursor of things to come, as they managed to find themselves putting their "ying" against their forever-linked "yang," the New York Yankees, in the American League Championship series. New York prevailed, going on only to lose the World Series to the (what?) Florida Marlins.

Although it is de rigeur around these parts to pin that ALCS series loss on Sox pitcher Tim Wakefield, and pin the moniker of "Aaron 'Bleeping' Boone" on the Yankee that hit the clinching home run, the truth is, Wakefield pitched his ass off in that series. He had come into the game on very little rest to try and keep the series alive. The bottom line is, he was simply out of gas. A microcosm of how the entire team was playing, if we're being honest.

As previously mentioned, the Patriots' third Super Bowl win in early 2004 (second consecutive, and third in four years) was somewhat of a salve for that bitter disappointment we were left with in October, 2003.

Looking back it's easy to point to 2004 as the apex year of my enthusiasm for all things sport in the region I call home. The Patriots were Super Bowl champs (again) and, once again, the fall of 2004 pitted the ancient rivals in the ALCS in the MLB playoffs. In spectacular fashion, the Red Sox managed to defeat the Yankees in the seven game series after falling behind 3-0. It was the first time in the history of the MLB playoffs that a team had come from a three game deficit to win a series. The details are well documented, so I won't even pretend to have any further insight on that magnificent series. The more important point is that this, this was the pinnacle of sports nirvana.

Not only did the local nine eliminate a 3-0 deficit in a playoff series. They did it against their life-long rival! Amazing! They then went on to win their first World Series in 86 years. And, sadly, this is where the wheels fall off the bus.

You would think that such an impressive feat would only strengthen a fan's love and enthusiasm for a team, a sport, and even sport in general. It may have done for some. However, as I alluded to at the outset of this post, it actually had the opposite effect on me. For better or for worse, right?

You see, with success comes adulation. And with adulation comes blind loyalty. And where success, adulation, and blind loyalty can be found - so can opportunism. And, I'm afraid, it is the accompanying opportunism that eventually brought me from an enthusiastic supporter of some of my favorite teams to a more cynical, passive acquaintance of them.

As the local teams gained more and more success, the fanaticism grew and grew. This, of course, wasn't happening in a bubble. The local television and radio networks and corporations were also well aware of the clout that all the winning had brought to the teams. In time, the airwaves and businesses - from the largest corporations to the smallest mom-and-pop shops - did everything they could to associate themselves with the teams.

The Patriots and, most saturating, Red Sox brands were everywhere. Fueling the seemingly never-ending appetite of the general public, everything from coffee shops to the nightly local news did everything they could to take advantage of the immense popularity of the champions. The onslaught was (and still is) incessant.

It has become an overwhelming force that is impossible to avoid. For me, it has tarnished what were supposed to be pleasant memories of the successes of my favorite teams. I'm not saying that I'd prefer it if the Pats still don't have a Super Bowl win or the Red Sox were hurtling towards 100 years without a World Series win - that's not the point.

My contention is, with all the recent success and ensuing hype, it seems the majority of 'fans' these days have developed an entitled attitude. That their teams (as if they have something to do with their success) should always have the best of the best - and nothing less will do. It's an impossible scenario, yet people whinge and moan about every single game, every individual play, that doesn't go "right."

It is these things, and I suppose my own aging, errr... maturation, that have combined to make me more likely to watch a History Channel program on the French Revolution over a Patriots game on Sunday afternoon. Not every Sunday but this is where I am, this past Sunday an example.

I'm still interested in seeing the Red Sox and Patriots do well. The Celtics, I suppose the same, albeit without the same level of interest. However, my discontent is that this attitude is quickly permeating the so-called fanbase of the the one team that I still watch with intensity - the Bruins.

It's almost a certainty that, in this day and age, if the Bruins do manage the same success - if they eventually win the Stanley Cup - the same fate may be in store.

New England has always been one of the nation's hotbeds of hockey. The college teams in the area bear that out quite well. A championship for the local professional team is something I hope to see - and sooner rather than later. I just hope I can withstand the inevitable deluge and it doesn't sour my enthusiasm for the last vestige of my withering appreciation for professional sport.

I suppose the old adage still holds sway here: Be careful what you wish for.

Happy New Year to all...

A Grand Gaga Day

2009-10-04T00:22:00.002-04:00

Today was a perfect October day for me. Cool temperatures, some rain, a quiet Saturday, one more day of the weekend lurking...

Reminds me of one of my favorite Björk songs.

In that vein, I have to say I've wildly underestimated this, how you say, 'Lady Gaga'?

Based on the short audience I witnessed on Saturday Night Live this evening, I have to look into this more.

What I saw was a bit of early David Bowie and a bit of errrr.. something. I'm on the case.

Wait... what?

Treinta

2009-09-03T21:51:00.002-04:00

For whatever reason, I've developed an affinity for foreign languages in my lifetime. I suppose it's not only the languages but foreign cultures, as well.

It's not a coincidence that my "blog name" is Viszlát Sjáumst. Both words mean about the same thing - "see you later" - in Hungarian and Icelandic, respectively.

I studied French in junior high, high school, and one year in college. Much of it has been lost but over the years I've done okay with the basics - getting by in Montréal and Paris in quick visits. My vocabulary level is low but I can still make out basic signs and make my way through certain written materials. Making pleasantries and asking certain questions in markets, and the like, was a nice challenge.

Earlier this decade I traveled a bit in Europe with a group of friends - to Iceland, Denmark, Hungary, and Spain. A few of us spent five days in Guatemala during that time, as well. For each visit, aside from Iceland, I brought a Berlitz phrase book with me in order to test my chops in the local tongue.

It wasn't anything groundbreaking but I was able to manage enough to get by in most cases. Typically, I was the 'go-to' guy when it came to deciphering what was going on and trying my best to interpret what was needed to get through the situation.

Ordering food and - more likely - beer, asking about train schedules, directions... typical travel chat.

Denmark (and Sweden) were pretty simple, since most people in both countries are well versed in English, anyway. Although, I put myself in a corner when I asked the woman at the front desk of our hotel in Copenhagen, in Danish, if she could recommend a good seafood restaurant. Without pause, she began rattling off names and directions in Danish - after which, I gave up the game. I was outmatched. We necessarily resorted to English but I think she was impressed with my effort, nonetheless.

Spain and Guatemala were great because one of my mates had been studying Spanish, so we managed pretty well as a group with a two-pronged attack. My proudest moment, though, probably came while we were in Budapest, Hungary.

There were only three of us on that trip. We all knew the basics - Hello, thank you, please, etc. But my shining moment came after an afternoon visit to Gellért Hill.

After making our way down the hill we found ourselves in the back alley of the main strip. There was a small pub/diner/market that ran from the back of the block to the front, where the main street was. We entered through the back entrance.

Inside, there was a construction worker finishing up his lunch, another man sitting alone at a table sipping a beer, the matronly proprietor who was manually balancing the books in a thick ledger - the way it had probably been done for decades, if not centuries - and us three American tourists.

Needless to say, this wasn't one of the places highlighted in the Lonely Planet guides. We knew it and, based on the cold reception given to us by the boss-woman, she knew it, as well.

Undeterred (and no doubt thirsty), we sat down at the small back counter and pointed to one of the beer taps indicating that we'd each like a glass. The woman reluctantly (it seemed) obliged by filling three glasses from the tap and immediately went back to the table where she'd been sitting to finish her accounting for the day.

As we enjoyed our first glasses of beer and discussed our recent visit, I began leafing through my Berlitz Hungarian Phrase Book & Dictionary.

Deciding we were comfortable and not quite ready to move on to our next destination, we waited for her to catch our glances and she returned back behind the counter. Meanwhile, I had had a few minutes to digest the information in the book, piece together a few words, and summon up the courage to order another round - in Hungarian.

"Három korsó magyar sört, kérek," I said a bit sheepishly. "Three pints Hungarian beer, please." Wouldn't you know it - a smile came across the woman's face as she happily filled three glasses with cold, Hungarian beer.

It's a phrase I've committed to memory and, for some reason, I'll occasionally say out loud. The better to practice some Hungarian diction, perhaps. Beats me.

Unfortunately, it was close to closing time (about 4:00 p.m.) and we were only able to stay for one more before she closed up for the afternoon. I'd like to think the construction worker finishing his lunch was impressed too but that may just be revisionist history.

It was a nice moment of connection. The slightest effort on our part to communicate in her native language, instead of pantomiming like a monkey and bellowing in English, had made a huge impression. That connection is just one of the things I love about traveling to non-English speaking locales.

That trip was in 2001. There was one last annual trip, to Spain, in 2002. (1999-2002, R.I.P.) After that it just became more difficult to put together, mostly due to the 2003 U.S. incursion into Iraq and the uncertainties that brought with it.

The passion didn't end there for me, though. In subsequent years, one of the items on my Christmas 'Wish List' was a Teach Yourself Icelandic book and audio cd. In 2004, I signed up for an adult education Spanish course at a (somewhat) local high school. Last year, I enrolled in another Spanish course with a couple of co-workers to hone my Español.

Having taken French for so many years, Spanish was fairly easy to get a hold on. I mean that relatively. A lot of the grammar and verb stuff is similar (as in Italian, too). Vocabulary and verb tenses are always a challenge but the basics (present tense, please!) have been less so. Sometimes I'll practice by 'talking' to my cat in Spanish. True.

"No más de agua aquí, gatito!"

Which leads me to the impetus of this post. My Spanish has paid off in small but gratifying ways. There's the old (I think he's 72 now?) man from the Dominican Republic who works for the cleaning service at my office. I'm usually there an hour or so after 'closing time' so I'm there when he comes around. We've had small conversations and I definitely notice when he's not there (he takes a month-long vacation back to the D.R. once a year - during the winter, of course).

More recently, I was in the local liquor store discussing the new Guinness 250th Anniversary Stout with the cashier. A co-worker (off-duty, I presumed) was also there when a man of Latino descent came in. He went to the back of the store and searched the coolers through the glass doors for his purchase. As I was talking with the cashier about the limited Anniversary Stout, I heard the man speaking Spanish to the off-duty worker.

"Treinta, Treinta!" he kept repeating. I peeked around the corner and I could see him holding up his hands, palms out, fingers splayed in what must be the universal sign for the number 10. "Treinta! Bud Light, diez mas," he was saying. The co-worker just stood there, somewhat indifferently, somewhat confusedly.

That's when I said, "He's looking for a Bud Light 30-pack. There are only 20-packs there."

The kid looked a bit put-out but he pointed to the door leading inside the cooler and said, "It's in there." The customer went in, grabbed his 30-pack of Bud Light, and paid for it. By that time, I was already outside getting into my car.

As the man came out, he spotted me and gave me a smile and a wave. As I was pulling out of the parking lot, I rolled down my window and shouted, "Que tenga buena noche!" He turned, waved, and shouted something back in Spanish.

I'm not quite sure what he said but I think it may only have been because I couldn't hear him - not that I couldn't understand him.

At least that's what I hope it was.

The Eagle Has Landed

2009-07-16T20:37:00.002-04:00

Going to the moon.

By this time, 40 years later, it is something that is mostly taken for granted by people. Others might question why we ever did it in the first place. Perhaps it is paid no mind at all by the rest. All irrelevant. It happened.

Today is the 40th anniversary of the United States's Apollo mission landing on the moon. I was just 356 days from existence when it happened. While I'm fine with my current place in life - and the relative years since my birth - it would have been a fascinating event to witness while it was happening. Being a dorky 13 year old in 1969 would've been perfect. Alas, I was beholden to the inimitable Commodore 64™ at that age. Anyway...

It's not a stretch to say that nothing, nothing, as spectacular has ever happened at the hand of man in human history - either before or since.

For a quick perspective : It is amazing to think that we were able to devise, engineer, and execute a plan to fire a rocket into space, with live humans aboard, accurately enough to safely approach and land on the moon (the friggin' moon!). Then have those humans bandy about - walking, buggying, golfing, &c. - upon it for a spell. Then, finally, return them safely back to Earth... all before we had touch-tone telephones. It is nothing short of astounding.

There were plenty of satellites (okay, a few) that had been put in place beforehand. Satellites are different. They're somewhat like kites - tossed up into the galactic 'wind' and set to coast on the underlying currents. In this case, it isn't wind that keeps them afloat. It is gravity. Shoot an object from the plane of the Earth far enough (but not too far) outward and the force of gravity from the massive planet it left will grasp and hold it at arms length, so to speak, in perpetuity*.

Apollo was different. Granted, the Soviet Union managed to get unmanned units to the moon and back. As did the U.S. (I think) However, the Apollo mission had one key element which made it stand, literally, 'head and shoulders' above the rest. Apollo had aboard human beings.

It is an undeniably massive achievement for humankind. This is true whether you agree with space exploration or not.

There's no way for me (right now, anyway) to prove this - but it's likely the sentiment and most frequently asked question from those that don't immediately see the benefit of the research involved in getting people to the moon and back safely is, "Seems a waste of money. What does it do for me?"

I have one word for you : Velcro.

Actually, 'hook and loop' fastening (as it's called now. like the kleenex/tissue thing) was invented in 1941 by Swiss engineer George de Mastral. Fast forward, after many years of sparing use, it was NASA that eventually shot the fabric securing method into the mainstream.

Seems like a trivial thing. But it's a simple example of how the things NASA uses and/or develops eventually find their way into the everyday lives of citizens. All over the world.

As for me, I probably tend to take things for granted. I won't claim that I'm an active follower of the sciences but I am interested in, and supportive of, the overall endeavor. The good thing is there are now television networks devoted to science or showing science-based programs. No one in 1969 had such good fortune. I watch the programming and it reminds me of how crazy it is - shooting things, people, into space. Looking millions of light-years in the past.

Honestly, I don't always fully understand some of the concepts or technical details. But the ideas on their own are well understood. Like, you can attach a giant can to more cans filled with millions of gallons of rocket fuel and shoot the whole thing to the moon. And you can go with it - and come back !!

Amazing. One small step, no shit...

It's science.

*The force of gravity on satellites eventually decays over time. Like a battery running low - and eventually "dying." At some point, all satellites drop out of orbit, after losing their 'wind', and succumb to the same gravitational force that supported them all their orbiting lives. Much like the kite that hits an air pocket, points earthbound, and nose-dives out of the sky in a flash - satellites come crashing down. Always. Re-entry into the Earth's atmosphere is usually enough to burn them up and destroy them but there have been bits of satellites that have made their way back to the Earth's surface. Skylab, anyone?

NB : this is my own interpretation of the fate of satellites. while I'm sure it's true, I admit my research mainly consists of watching the Science channel, Discovery Channel, and the like, along with a dash of internet searching. Hey, at least it wasn't just completely made up.

Kitty Presents

2009-05-19T21:18:00.003-04:00

Gotta love waking up on a Sunday morning and finding a 'surprise' left by your pet. In this case, my cat Spinny.

It's amazing to me that of all the potential landing spots for these lovely gifts, they're more often than not delivered on the carpet. For reference, there's only one room in my entire house that has carpet.

Not on the shiny, washable hardwood floor. Not on the easily cleanable ceramic tile. Nope. Right on the dang carpet.

Warning! These photos may be disturbing to viewers that don't have pets.

Notice how close she was to the hardwood floor. Strategic puking, indeed :

A couple close-ups, first the food :

Then the hair slug :

Nice, eh. Then I was treated to this gem later that evening :

I wonder if she's taking up cartography and was having a go at Africa? She'll need to work on it, though - not sure what that little island (Iceland, maybe?) is doing there...

She's a good kitty, though, so it's hard to get upset with her... it's just part and parcel of living with our four-legged friends. Seriously, how could you get upset with this face?

It's Gettin' Kinda Tech-tic

2009-04-30T19:28:00.002-04:00

So, here we are - on the eve of the one-year anniversary of my moving into my new (and first-ever) home. What a milestone. I still walk through my house and sometimes think, "I can't believe this is a house... that I'm paying for and living in." It's fantastic. And while I'll admit that I could've done more with it in my first year to "make it my own" - I've no complaints. There's plenty of time left (29 years, to be precise) for me to get down and dirty.

Things like... well, replacing my decrepit mailbox. Yeah - never happened last year.

But that's not what I'm dwelling on right now. After having moved up a step in where I'm living, this is about what's going on with how I'm living.

Last week I took the plunge and updated my Audio/Video status. I jumped into the glorious world of High Definition Television by ordering a new TV and Blu-ray disc player. The Blu-ray disc player came on Tuesday and the TV arrived this morning.

Holy Crap... This is ridiculous ! It's not like I haven't seen HDTV in other locales - it's just very different when you experience it for the first time in your own space.

The TV is an absolutely perfect fit in my living room at 52". The screen looks so huge... and crisp. It's almost (almost) as if you could fit two of the old 32" analog tube screens in this thing. I'm sure I'll get accustomed to the size but, right now, it feels as if a multi-plex cinema theater screen has invaded my living room. And I don't have one complaint about it.

There must be a zillion options to play with but the setup was so simple. Plug in the HDMI, turn on the cable, et voila - there it is. Turns out the cable box is 'only' 1080i and the set is 1080p, so I'm not sure how detrimental that is (not very, by the looks of it). I'll worry about that later. Right now, I'm light years from where I was last night in terms of viewing experience. Right now, I may as well be playing shortstop in the Sox/Rays game...

Without even breaching the myriad options available on the set (the manual is the size of a 125 page magazine - and that doesn't include the alternate languages) I'm stylin'. The set, itself, should be enough, yeah?

Hold on though... The Blu-ray player adds even more to the ensemble. It's like a high-tech wet dream. The player has built-in software that connects to both Netflix, for instant streaming of available movies and televisions series, as well as the Internet Radio service Pandora.

Each on their own are great services - being able to access both of them through my television and Blu-ray player is... well, it's just obscene, is what it is. And, again, the setup was an absolute breeze. Plug in the LAN cord to the player and the router, click a few buttons, enter a key-code at each site and - bingo! - it's all set up.

It's really unbelievable. I've yet to stream anything from Netflix (maybe tonight) but the Pandora works brilliantly. And if you don't know of Pandora I suggest you check it out. Set up an account, pop in an artist, and it will play songs from that artist along with similar artists. Great way to check out new music without having to actively search it out. I highly recommend it - and it's free. Then go from there. Set up different 'radio stations' based on different artists, rate songs (yay or nay) and it adjusts what songs it'll play... good stuff.

So, yeah, here it is - one year later... and with all this newly acquired technology, I'm not sure if I'll ever leave the house again.

Now I'm off to play and enjoy my new toys.

Hmmm, I Wonder...

2009-02-05T21:49:00.004-05:00

>> I wonder... if there's a better three second sensation in the world than returning to a warm, flannel-lined bed in the early, winter morning hours after a brief vacation from it for - whatever.

>> I wonder... if there's a definitive human gene which contributes to, or is entirely responsible for, greed.

>> I wonder... if reading truly is fundamental.

>> I wonder... if the scent of even our most foul-smelling flatulence is somehow more tolerable to ourselves than it is to others due to some biological or physiological phenomenon. Does our mind recognize the self-produced scent through microscopic signatures, thus rendering it less offensive? Or is it simply a cognitive response - in that we're aware of the offense, thus diffusing our own natural reaction or repulsion?

>> I wonder... how many of you were totally grossed out by that last 'wonder' - and how many have the same curiosity.

>> I wonder... if Mrs. Sippy wore a new jersey, what did Della wear?

>> I wonder... if the general culture in Europe dictates that tipping for restaurant/bar service is minimal, if not non-existent, what effect does heavy travel by Americans (and other similar tipping cultures) have on that culture? Will a café server in Milan be fine with no tip from a fellow Milanese, yet expect some tip from an American? At some point, will tourism change the tipping policy in such places? Is that fair? Or is tourism too small to have an impact? No idea... Thus, I wonder.

>> I wonder... how much better off the world would be today if Joe Strummer was still alive.

>> I wonder... "I waah waah waah waah wonder... Why... You went away!"

>> I wonder... , going back to a theme, if there's a definitive human gene which contributes to, or is responsible for, laziness.

>> I wonder... whether people are ever going to get past the unwarranted, misinformed, and completely hypocritical view of marijuana use in this country or not. The decriminalization law went into effect in Massachusetts, what, a full month ago? And you're telling me that none of those apocalyptic predictions have yet to even simmer to the surface? Shocking. The paranoia is unbelievable. It's ridiculous... It's so ridiculous, I've come up with an instant proverb for the occasion :

"a cornerstone of fear is the first brick to ruin." -me

>> I wonder... if that self-ascribed proverb might not be some variation of another, more succinct and elegant, ancient proverb. I don't want to rip anybody off. Credit due an' all... but I think it's fairly original.

>> I wonder... if Sir Arthur Guinness's decision to negotiate a 9000 year lease - yes, nine-thousand years - on the St. James's Gate Brewery, Dublin, at a rate of £45 per year was shrewd business or, as a non-Guinness drinking mate recently said, hubris?

>> I wonder... 'whether will there ever be a boy born who can swim faster than a shark'.

The Year of the Movie

2009-01-11T19:49:00.003-05:00

Happy New Year, tout le monde.

A week ago Friday a couple of my mates came by to hang out. At some point in the night we decided it was time to watch a movie. I had two DVDs from Netflix that I had yet to view, so I threw out the options. The (predictable) winner was Superbad. I say predictable because I know one of the guys had already seen it and raved about it. My other friend and I had not yet seen it - so in it went.

Two hours later (there were a few pauses for necessary 'pit stops'...) we were finished with it. Funny, funny movie. I rated it 4/5 stars on Netflix. I liked the Beck Jr. kid much better than the other one - but the movie, as a whole, was great.

The following Wednesday I finally got around to watching the other movie I had at home. I say 'finally' because, when I looked at my Netflix account, I realized that it had been shipped to me on ... get this - 2 July 2008!

That's right. I had had that DVD for just over SIX months...

No idea why it took me so long to watch it - but that's the beauty of Netflix. No late fees! Anyway, that question became even more poignant after I watched the movie. It was awesome. The movie is called Rabbit-Proof Fence. I won't get into the details of it; you can look it up. Hopefully, if you haven't already, you'll also watch it. And don't forget the 'making-of' featurette included on the DVD.

So at that point, it had been two movies in six days for me. Two great movies in six days, that is.

Okay, so fast-forward to this past Friday. I met up with a few more of my mates for some delicious Mexican food at Rancho Chico in lovely Plainville, MA (Come on down!) and we convened at my house afterward for a few beers and much lively discussion.

The talk eventually turned to movies. Rabbit-Proof Fence was one we discussed. Another which came up was The Professional. The 1994 action flick about an assassin (Jean Reno) who forms a relationship with 12-year old Mathilda (Natalie Portman) after a crazed DEA agent (Gary Oldman) kills her entire family.

Two of us had seen it; two of us had not. The perception of the movie, for those that hadn't seen it, was that it was a hokey/cheezy kind of movie. Reading some of the Netflix reviews, I think this may be a common theme. Anyway, the two of us that had seen it described the movie excitedly and promised that it was not at all a schlocky 'fish-out-of-water' kind of movie. My two mates who hadn't seen it vowed they'd give it a shot.

More movies came up. More discussion. More insight into movies we'd never seen, heard of, etc. During the discussion I declared that 2009 was going to be "The Year of the Movie" for me. I'm making a conscious effort to watch more movies.

It's not because of my six-month 'rental' and not getting my money's worth out of Netflix. I don't look at my membership that way. The way I see it is I'm paying for a service, not simply movie rentals. Going through my queue and re-arranging it, reviewing movies, perusing movies I've yet to see, and interacting with a few of my mates that also have memberships is well worth the monthly fee for me.

It's so much better than simply going to a video rental store, ordering movies On-Demand, or catching them on the various cable movie channels. Although, "The Year of the Movie" certainly doesn't exclude movies I may find on the cable channels... They're just an added bonus in between Netflix deliveries.

But regarding Netflix - It's an interactive experience that I enjoy - and the luxury of not having to worry about late fees is a bonus for me. Sometimes, I'm just not in the right mood to watch a certain movie. Sometimes, I'm not in the mood for six whole months. So be it.

However, that six-month thing is out the window now. This is 2009, "The Year of the Movie." I've already watched one today and I think I'm going to pop one in right now to finish the night.

Here's how TYotM has begun :

> 2 January - Superbad (4/5 stars)
> 7 January - Rabbit-Proof Fence (5/5 stars)
> 10 January - WMD: Weapons of Mass Deception (3/5 stars)
> 11 January - Maléna (4/5 stars)

Tonight is going to be Full Metal Jacket (a DVD I borrowed from my brother-in-law last Christmas). And the next two coming from Netflix are The Notorious Bettie Page and Joe Strummer: The Future Is Unwritten.

There it is. It's officially begun. Enjoy a movie you've been waiting to see, tonight!

p.s. Today, 11 January, has also officially been declared "Pancake Zone Day." I had pancakes this morning, as did two of my friends - unbeknownst to me. If anyone else out there had pancakes today, I'd love to hear of it. And if you didn't today - make sure to next year.

The Big Storm

2008-12-21T21:02:00.009-05:00

Maybe it comes from the childhood memories of Winter. Lots of snow. A day off from school, here and there. Loads and loads of hours spent bundled up in a puffy mish-mash of 'snow gear' and just living in the snow.

Forts, snowmen, snowball battles, sledding...

Maybe it's a harkening for the good old days of college. The first snowfall of the season was highly anticipated. I'm sure we spent many productive hours drawing up elaborate rules and guidelines for it. But the gyst of it was : At the first sight of snow, everyone stops what they're doing and convenes at 192 Oakland for the party.

This includes weekends, weekdays, classes... that was the idea. To catch a snowstorm during 10:00 a.m. classes would've been great. In the couple years the 'First Snowfall Party' edict was in place, during classes was not to be. But it's the spirit that counts, yeah?

Whatever it is - which may be somewhere in-between the previous two examples - I always look forward to the first snow of the season.

*-------------------*

With that spirit, I decided to semi-document the storm as it progressed.

Where I am, the snow started falling around 2:00 p.m. I know that because it wasn't snowing before I went into the shower just before two - and it was snowing after I got out, shortly thereafter two. My deduction? The snow started falling around 2:00 p.m. that day.

This is when I actually decided to record the big event. Here's how the driveway looked around 2:00 p.m.

The Big Storm - 2 p.m., 19 December 2008

About an hour later things were definitely adding up. The 3:00 p.m. record showed definite snow accumulation. Not much, yet... but it's coming

The Big Storm - 3 p.m., 19 December 2008

As the four o'clock hour approached, things were well underway. The snowplows hadn't been around yet and just about everything at ground level was covered in a smooth, unbroken layer of white. The trees at this stage are just about the picture-perfect representation of the 'snow-dusted evergreens'... And the best part is that you can actually hear the snow falling. The snow insulates everything and it's more silent than ever. It's the best...

The Big Storm - 4 p.m., 19 December 2008

Then the sun goes down and everything changes. It's tough to gauge HMHF - How Much? How Fast? Snow seems different at night. A bit more sneaky than during daylight. Luckily, for this project anyhow, there's a giant, honkin' street light right across the road from my driveway. It's always, always cranking. So, there's always, always plenty of light.

It also makes it a little harder to take pictures. I'm no where near acquainted enough with setting my camera appropriately for different lighting and all that stuff. Choosing the appropriate flash (or trying to) and adjusting the shutter speed in rough, 1/4 second increments is about as complex as it gets right now... but sometimes that works out for the better.

Not saying it does in this particular instance. I'm just saying that sometimes, a fortunate accident occurs. With no further ado... the five o'clock hour.

The Big Storm - 5 p.m., 19 December 2008

At this point, due mostly to the previously mentioned darkness, things pretty much look the same from the vantage point of the lens. Here's things about an hour later.

The Big Storm - 6 p.m., 19 December 2008

About an hour later... see what I mean?

The Big Storm - 7 p.m., 19 December 2008

So, at this point it hits me. No one's going to move all this beautiful snow but me. The sad realization comes - it's time to trade in the camera for the shovel. I'm just thankful that my new driveway is only about 20% the size of my old one...

A refreshing 90 minutes (here or there) out in the cool, snowy night later and the job is done. Here are two totally different picture results from the same point... It's all about the settings.

The Big Storm - 8:51 p.m., 19 December 2008

The Big Storm - 8:52 p.m., 19 December 2008

It looks like it actually stopped snowing in the 40 seconds between those photos. Not so. It pretty much continued snowing all night and all day Saturday... and Sunday, come to think of it.

Wrapping things up here, there's a final house photo of the night and another of some fun I had inside the house during the project... (man, look at that tree. it has taken a beating!)

The Big Storm - 9:25 p.m., 19 December 2008

And this from earlier...

The Big Kitty - 3:23 p.m., 19 December 2008

There it is... the Big Storm of December 2008. The last 'huzzah' of the year.

Happy New Year to all in 2009.

Reflections

2008-12-15T22:34:00.000-05:00

Blink. Blink. Blink.

The cursor blinks at me mockingly. Every day I encounter things, events, ideas - that make me say to myself, "That's something I should write about on my blog." However, for the longest time, I've consciously tried to avoid that word. Blog. Whether in its noun form or its verb form : to blog. As in, "I should blog about that."

I'm not sure why that is. Whatever the reason, I think I've been self-conscious about being one of the millions of (let's face it) useless blogs out there. Even when I know it's contradictory to my desire to put my thoughts, ideas, and general nonsense 'out there' for others to consume. Almost as if -- if it isn't mentioned - it isn't one. It's something else... I know. It's not.

That - and the incontrovertible fact that I'm an inherently lazy person - doesn't make a good pairing for a 'successful' blog. There, I wrote it.

From now on, I'll at least ditch the one thing that can be ditched with just a slight change in the vocabulary employed. The laziness, I fear, is a much more difficult obstacle to overcome. But you gotta start somewhere, yeah? So, from this point forward, I plan to embrace and use the word blog in all its forms. Not gratuitously, of course... just, no longer avoiding it.

That being said... the idea of maintaining a blog, in and of itself, is pretty egotistical at its core when you think of it. So, yeah, there might be some of that. Yet a big part of the draw for me is trying to create something that's entertaining for the reader. Or, most certainly, readers - plural. At least that's the idea. A slight diversion for anyone who takes the time to pop in and read whatever's here.

My benefit in all this is I have a creative outlet to hone my writing skills. Not quite sure what I'll do with those skills - or whether I even possess skills to hone to begin with - but that's my problem. Not yours. The point is, hopefully, we both get something out of it. That's the best case scenario. If I keep writing and feel I'm 'improving' but no one reads, well, there's still a net gain in my mind.

Okay - enough of the somewhat melodramatic introspection on "me and my blog" ... BOOOOOOReeeeeng!

Here's a quick recap/summary of things to grease the skids :

<------------------------------------------------>

Ehh.. a few thoughts, anyhow.

I don't watch Survivor but it happens that I witnessed the season finale on Sunday night. It was more background fuzz to start with... until I got sucked in. Long story short - I wasn't disappointed.

The final hour, or so, was some of the craziest stuff I've ever seen on the tube. And I'm a somewhat professional television viewer. Suffice to say, like all reality programming, they definitely stack the deck in favor of some truly.. let's say "incompetent" contestants?

Wow. I know there's not much, if anything, to go on here. It's just something that doesn't need any elaboration... They've got a formula that works. Most of these people are nuts.

<------------------------------------------------>

A hearty R.I.P. to the exquisite and groundbreaking Bettie Page.

<------------------------------------------------>

Alice Cook doing the 'sports' segment for WBZ news is a stroke of genius. She gives the sports report without any pretense or grandeur. Quite refreshing. Especially in this era of 'ESPN'-itis saturated sports casts/shows.

If I could pay a fee to choose the sports reporter on a local network, I would.

Alice Cook? I would pay for you. To report the local sports. To me. And whoever else wants to watch. Well, they'd have to pay, themselves... No, you. They'd pay you. But not like that. Just to do the sports. That would be a refreshing change...

<------------------------------------------------>

Debate? There isn't one.

When it comes to the Late-Night talkies, the rankings are indisputable.

Dave, Conan, Craig, Jay. Clear as day.

<------------------------------------------------>

Have you listened to Knobcast today?

La Saison Glorieuse

2008-10-14T23:37:00.005-04:00

What's your favorite time of year?

Let me point out, if you didn't say right now - you're wrong! Totally wrong. Winter, Spring, and Summer have their moments. And probably in that order... but Autumn is where it's all at.

Wait a minute. This all sounds waaay too familiar, donut?

Sure enough... after a quick search through the archives it's confirmed. Here's part of what was posted here a year ago just about to the day :

"Going back to the best month of the year - I can't get enough of the beautiful days and cool nights. Perfect for sleeping with the windows cracked. The Halloween decorations that rival the Christmas decorations fill me with delight. The mere act of driving down a tree-lined street, outlined in the gold, yellow, brown, and red leaves that punctuate the season... jack-o-lanterns... witches, ghosts, monsters, and ghouls... nothing beats it. Nothing."

Looking back and reading that again, not much has changed. The only changes I think I'd make are - 1> I can't quite sleep with the windows cracked, as I have no window screens and I'm not sure the windows would stay open and -2> The Halloween decorations have not only rivaled but surpassed the Christmas decorations as my favorite.

That's it. That and the rest is still the truth.

This past holiday weekend was phenomenal. The perfect advocate for this time of year. Clear, blue skies. Mild temperatures. Stunning backgrounds of foliage turning with the season. Defy me.

So, after popping out on Friday afternoon and seeing the magnificent colors, I decided to spend some time with the camera. I got a few hours in on Saturday and here's a sample. The colors aren't as vibrant as they were in person - but that's my fault, not using the camera to its full potential. In any case ::

This first one is the maple tree in my back yard.

The Maple Tree

It's huge and is perfectly positioned (just about) to shade the majority of the back yard in summertime.

A few more of this fabulous tree. Anyone want to come help me rake its leaves? Forget it - this one I took from underneath with my back against the trunk.

The Maple Tree 2

A couple to try and show some color.

The Maple Tree 3

The Maple Tree 4

Don't mind the playset. That's going away next year. A few more from another angle and time of day.

The Maple Tree 5

The Maple Tree 6

I've got some other photos from this set that I'll put up. Hope you enjoy these for now...

Knobcast - S02E02

2008-10-14T23:20:00.004-04:00

Series 2 Episode 2 of Knobcast is now available for those so inclined to listen. Enjoy.

Knobcast - S02E01

2008-09-29T11:17:00.002-04:00

The Series 2 episode premiere of Knobcast is now available for those so inclined to listen. Enjoy.

Learnin' How t'Crawl - or - LHC

2008-09-11T21:55:00.006-04:00

Just a quick shout out tonight; mostly to keep my 'stats' up but I do get the urge every couple of days... problem is, it takes me much longer to actually get to it. I have a personal assistant that keeps my schedule and he sometimes forgets to schedule in my posting sessions. He's fired.

There was a radio program on today which covered the topic of the Large Hadron Collider, or LHC.

I didn't catch the full hour but I tuned in with about 10 minutes remaining. Luckily, it's archived and available to listen to another time. However, within the small bit that I did hear tonight, a caller's comment/question struck me.

To be fair, I don't know too many details about the LHC or what it's supposed to accomplish. As surprising as it may seem, I'm not a world-reknowned physicist.

What I gather about the project is there are scientists from about 85 countries involved. The main objective is to fire atoms, or some other 'particles', from each end of a 17 mile tunnel directly at each other in an attempt to re-create the suspected action which created the 'Big Bang'.

Feel free to correct me - but don't slag me off for the obvious lack of detail. As I mentioned... you know, the world-reknowned physicist thing. If you want to know more about 'the hell' I'm rambling about, check out the link referenced above.

From the LHC website :

"The Large Hadron Collider (LHC) is being built in a circular tunnel 27 km in circumference. The tunnel is buried around 50 to 175 m. underground. It straddles the Swiss and French borders on the outskirts of Geneva."

For those uninitiated in the metric system, that's huge.

What piqued my interest and/or cynicism about the caller's question was the lack of vision outside his own realm of self it contained.

Paraphrased, his question was something like, "With all the issues going on regarding the world and gas prices today, why are scientists spending time and money on this project?" In other words, what is it that I'm supposed to gain from this research in my day-to-day life?

Simple answer? Nothing, bud. Sorry to disappoint you. Yeah, that's right. The entire world isn't really concerned about you, personally.

Harsh? Not really. It's the necessity of science.

Projects like this aren't meant to solve the problems of today. They have their own immediate intentions, of which the general public is typically unaware. However, in five, ten, maybe twenty year's time - or more - they tend to render solutions for the problems - or advancements - of tomorrow.

I'm sure when Alexander Graham Bell was working on what would become the modern telephone there were plenty of current-day issues that needed addressing.

Many other everyday conveniences we take for granted have roots in a long and, most times, expensive history. At the time when that expense is greatest, it's difficult for the average citizen to rationalize its worth. There's always going to be something more 'real' to deal with. However, in most cases, those efforts usually pay off and are well worth the wait.

The cost of the research that eventually delivers that advancement of civilization, whether it serves our generation or the next, becomes a bargain once that breakthrough insinuates itself into the mainstream society. In essence, that advancement becomes priceless.

How much would you pay for something today that you know would eventually become beyond pricing?

Technically, nothing. I know - because, you'd never get your money back if it didn't have a price.

But! In the less literal 'priceless' sense? It seems that any price, at the time, would be agreeable.

Sure there are going to be projects that fail and never make it past the expensive development stage. But that price is well worth it, as that attempt will never be tried again... which allows future researchers an advantage - of knowing where not to go.

Scientific research is one of the mystical professions of our time. The average person knows nothing about it and is constantly amazed at its results.

I'm not saying "Do not question science." On the contrary. I'm saying, "Please! Question science." So we may all understand its significance and, one day, enjoy its benefits.

Utter Randomness

2008-08-29T23:17:00.005-04:00

Seventeen days. Not what I had hoped for in this, the month of "less is more."

My original 'Time Out' strategy (outlined a few posts ago) was, ehhhh.... let's say a moderate success. Could've been better but, more importantly, could've been much worse, too.

There was one week in August when I had multiple opportunities to stray from my plan, yet stuck to my guns and declined invitations for varied extracurricular (i.e. post-work) activities. That helped - but things quickly built up to previous levels and ... well, that's where the 'moderate' rating comes in.

Three nights in a row 'out on the town' can't really be considered cutting down on going out. It's not to say, in any way, that those nights were not well appreciated. On the contrary. Each evening held its own charm and enjoyment - which is precisely what makes turning down the opportunities so difficult!

So, it's a work in progress. I guess I was over-optimistic in assuming I could just shut it off at will. I'll keep working on it. I have to. I'm no C. Montgomery Burns.

<----------------------------------------------------->

I'll leave the analysis at that and move on to other unrelated topics. For one, the pants I wore to work today may have seen their last useful employment - for me, anyhow.

I've known for a while that they've been a bit ill-fitting. You know, just a bit too short in the leg... uncomfortably tight in the thigh/groinal area. See where I'm going with this?

Problem is, I've been too lazy to replace them. Save the fat jokes, please. Yeah, I could stand to lose a few pounds. File that under Common Knowledge. I know that these pants have gotten smaller over time due to repeated washings. Lord knows I'm not getting any taller - so, there's your scientific proof.

Bottom line is, I've had it with these pants. They were chosen today based on their color and not on their fit. And now I'm taking a stand and saying that fit trumps color. They're gone. Done. I'm sick of 'em.

For the most part, I've been wearing thick, heavy, corduroy pants all summer - because they're the most comfortable pants I own. Hot as hell but they fit. Yeah, Fall is right around the corner... but ignoring past improprieties does not bode well for future endeavors. These non-fitting, non-corduroy pants have to go.

While the current corduroy specimens should be okay for the upcoming season, it doesn't mean I shouldn't be in the business of picking up something new. Something that will be weather-appropriate come springtime. That, and I'm sick of wearing the same two pair of pants all week.

Mostly, I hated the effect these soon-to-be-discarded pants had on my ball-region while driving to and from work. Sitting at work. Walking around at work - and after work. You get the picture. I've had enough. My balls have had enough. They're gone.

Whew.. there. I've said it. I look forward to my new proper-fitting pants.

<----------------------------------------------------->

There was an article on Boston.com today linking to an on-line WebComic. I'm not sure exactly how to reference a "Web Comic" but they're, basically, comic strips that are posted on websites. Not 'traditional' media. So "WebComic" might not be appropriate but you get the picture. Perhaps you already have a few favorites of your own. Even better.

Now that that's cleared up, the WebComic (what I'll refer to them as until I'm convinced otherwise) I was brought to is called Questionable Content.

It's quite entertaining. There are over, what, 1200 strips? I've started at the beginning and gone through the first one hundred, or so.

The early strips look markedly different from the current strips - but that's to be expected. Much like when I look back on the early posts in this space, I notice things have evolved. I'm not saying for better or worse, just that there is some noticeable difference. This phenomenon intrigued me. It's actually what spurred me on this afternoon to go nuts with this post, tonight.

Anyway, I really like the original lines in the early illustrations. Something about the thick ink lines does it for me. Perhaps it's the detachment from realism. I'm not sure - but I know I like it.

It remains to be seen if I'll continue to enjoy it. I'm thinking if I go through it sequentially, it will all be seamless and there won't be any noticeable difference from early to late versions. I'm anxious to find out, though.

What's really amazing to me is that the dude, Jeph Jacques, started his thing in 2003. Yah! 2003, can you believe it? And, as it appears, he's kept it going through today. That fact was my inspiration for tonight.

Obviously, completely different spheres of relativity are at play here. His WebComic is viewed and enjoyed by many - my pitiful WebLog is reluctantly read by few. But that won't stop me from blathering on... relating my thoughts and observances to the masses, or at least those which dare to blow two to ten minutes of their lives reading this drivel.

And to those - I wholeheartedly give my thanks. For real. I mostly do this for myself but I do appreciate knowing that there are some folks out there that actually read what I have to write. That's cool.

Okay - this bit was supposed to be about Questionable Content (and the bizarre community surrounding WebComics that I've been introduced to)... So - check it out. Start from the beginning (or not). And enjoy. I wish I was as talented.

For now, the bizarre forum community observation stuff will have to wait. That short visit was strange. Some real freaky, scary 'real' internet stuff. On-line arguments regarding the nuance of a 'forum thread' vs. a 'chat room'.

I was schooled. Then I was uninterested. It all happened so fast.

Regardless of my whingin', you read. Sweet - and thanks, honestly, thanks for reading.

<----------------------------------------------------->

Honestly? I don't know what the frig it is I'm to blabber about. Fuck. This segment was really different than it will be in four minutes for you in what was, probably, two minutes for me.

Be assured, there was something here. About two or three minutes ago, yes. It was here. Something was, that is. Here. This is where it was. Surely, I confess, it wasn't over there.

Yet (is it me or does this seem like the perfect Russian-language based English word ever? not that it even is one; i'm just saying), I could just as easily be describing the actions of my cat.

<----------------------------------------------------->

Alright, I'll have to come right out and say it. Keep it "Short 'n' Sweet."

Never mind. I was about to put a political opinion bit right here - not sure if that's the thing to do, though.

I'll have my opinion - and influence you all to it, eventually, - but an all-out political rant would totally alter this blog. NOT where I want to go with this. So I'll keep certain 'Search Terms' out of the discussion... Capice?

<----------------------------------------------------->

Shit. Gotta go. This was going to be a record length post. For me, anyway. Obviously. This has no relevance to anything else, hey! Right; never mind.

'Night y'all... sleep with sweet dreams and god bless ya

Half Time

2008-08-13T21:27:00.010-04:00

It's not quite half way through August, sweet August, but it is Hump Day. Wednesday. Which is the half-way point of the week. And that's good enough. Also, with the Summer Olympics well under way I figured "Half Time" was an appropriate title for this post. Although, I've yet to actually see a televised event which has a true half-time.

Have you been watching the Olympics? Like, really watching them? Not if you don't like gymnastics, swimming, or beach volleyball you haven't. That's pretty much what has been force-fed to us on the major NBC network feed. It sucks. During 'prime time' the secondary NBC networks are fairly bereft of coverage.

I suppose it's my downfall that I don't, yet, have HD - as there are some full-time HD feeds, if I'm not mistaken. But the percentage of folks with HD has to be small compared to those with 'regular' television. And for those of us saps in the majority, it all comes on after 1:00 a.m. I've been tuning in (in prime time) - but I wish they'd give some airtime to some of the other events. Just wait 'til next week when we're drowning in all things Track & Field.

There are plenty of other interesting events going on. Why can't they take an hour or so each night to highlight some of those? Thank the gods for the internet. At least they've done that right. There are live feeds on NBC.com that are serviceable. You can't get video in full-screen (that I've been able to figure out) but pretty much everything is available.

So far, I've watched the second half of the Australia vs. Spain Women's Field Hockey prelim match (Australia routed 6-1, scoring 5 in the second half), some of the US vs. Italy Men's Water Polo match, last night's US vs. Australia Softball game in its entirety (US 3 - Australia 0; No-Hitter by US pitcher Osterman), a bit of Men's Badminton, some Women's Archery, and a bit of Men's Handball.

These are some of the sports I'd like to be able to view on the tele, not hunched over my laptop on a 3"x5" screen. Hopefully, as things get going, the secondary networks will pick it up and these will be available. Highly doubtful, though, with all the advertising dollars being spent. Because, as we all know, the Olympics aren't about the sport - they're all about the corporate sponsors, innit?

That being said, the tele's still much easier and more enjoyable to watch than the laptop screen. It can also pay off well.

Sunday night was the amazing Men's 4 x 100 Freestyle Swimming race in which the US pulled out a fantastic upset of France. The final leg swum by Jason Lezak (US) against Alain Bernard (FRA) was phenomenal. Bernard had been quoted earlier as saying something to the effect of, "The Americans? We're going to smash them. That's what we came here for."

Trash-talking in swimming? Gotta love it. The US beat them by a few hundredths of a second - but that's all it takes. I know it's not good sportsmanship to gloat... but the look of disbelief on the French swimmers' faces was délicieux !

Lezak's final 50 metres were tremendous. With about 25 metres to the finish he poured it on, catching up to Bernard and getting the touch in the end. It was damn exciting. Much more exciting than I can do justice to here. It's probably available on-line in the video archives. If you've got a few extra minutes, I suggest checking it out.

Swimming 'experts' say this was the most amazing 4 x 100 relay race - ever. That's not from me. That's from the experts. So you know it's good.

In fact, I'll make it easy for you. Here's the link.

You may need to install Microsoft Silverlight - but it's free. And quick. And it's worth it. You'll be able to watch all the Olympic action you want after that.

While I'm on links, check out this hockey goal by Australia's Nicole Hudson vs. Spain. The link goes to the full match replay - but, once it's loaded, scoot it up to about the 1h:09m mark (about 75% of the way) of the video and watch the next 2-3 minutes. Even better, watch the entire match.

For reference, there are about 25 minutes on the game clock at this point with the score 1-1. Around 1h:10m in the video, play develops in the Australian end and carries (quickly) all the way down field with a spectacular finish... Alex Ovechkin would be proud. The rout is on. Australia never looks back.

I tell ya, with high-speed internet, the video play is pretty impressive. Decent clarity (even better on close-ups) but excellent delivery speed. Once it's going there aren't many hiccoughs or delays.

The greatest benefit it holds, however, is that the events are broadcast without any commentary, commercials, or candyfloss studio pieces. It's a completely NBC-free experience. Nauseating Bob Costas.

Woah. Seems I've come down with a spell of verbositis. Didn't expect to ramble on so. Guess my Time Out update will be delayed.

In the meantime, check out some of the lesser known Olympic contests. Why not? You're already on the damn internet.

Time Out

2008-07-27T21:08:00.003-04:00

It's 27 July and I'm anxiously awaiting the end of the month. As previously noted (on a few occasions here), the summer doesn't hold any real special place in my heart. I don't do the beach thing. Nor do I hold the feeling that a hot summer day is not to be wasted indoors. Those aren't the reasons behind my wishing to see the July page of the calendar ripped away, though.

What's doing me in is the heavy schedule of events - both weekend and weeknight - and the toll it's taking on my wallet. I knew when I was planning to buy my house that my monthly expenses would go up. The problem is, I have yet to re-adjust my social calendar accordingly. I've basically continued to live, and therefore spend, as I had been before the substantial increase in my lodging expense.

I'm not lamenting the purchase; just the lack of adjustment in my lifestyle to properly accommodate such a drastic change. It's four days until payday (a monthly event) and I've got about 100 beans to get me there. It won't be a problem but I don't enjoy cutting it so close.

Admittedly, the high gas prices aren't helping but they're not high enough to be making a serious dent. I'm simply spending more than I should without much forethought. June and July were chock-full of events. Too many events. Some big, some small - just too many, overall. It's time I took a Time Out.

I've already got a couple of 'big' events on the calendar for August which I intend to keep on the schedule... but I'll be making a concerted effort to minimize the addition of anything new.

It's not only the financial aspect that has taken a hit, there's also the personal aspect. Since my Project Walkway posting two weeks ago, I haven't been back out there at all - aside from the two new, green weeds I plucked from the already-been-plucked section today. I think that was the physical manifestation of what I've been feeling the past two months. Things are catching up with me.

There are also books I'd like to read, movies I'd like to watch (Netflix must be loving me and my return frequency), entries I'd like to post here, boxes in my house that still need unpacking, and projects I'd like to get done - nay, need to get done - on the house. These are all things I'm looking forward to doing - and all of them are free or, in the case of house projects, necessary expenses. Yeah, I pay a monthly fee for Netflix but that's negligible. And I'm already paying it, so I may as well get the most out of it.

This isn't to say I'm planning to board up the windows and doors and disappear for good. It's just time to stop, take a deep breath, and re-adjust my priorities. To carefully analyze any potential events or invitations... and to politely decline if I don't feel I have the time or it doesn't fit into the budget.

It's in my best interest, both financially and mentally. And it all begins on 1 August. Bye-Bye July.

Project Walkway

2008-07-12T18:32:00.006-04:00

What an absolutely perfect summer day. Temperatures hovering around a pleasing 80ºF. Mild breezes sporadically sweeping past. Blue sky peppered with the occasional cloud. A great day to be out of doors. Just superb.

I took advantage of the agreeable weather by beginning my reclamation bid of the front walkway to my house. It had been taken over by weed and grass as the summer's greenery flourished, uninhibited by man's intervention. In this case, that man would be me.

A busy June weekend schedule coupled with my own bouts of admitted procrastination had put the task off until now. Well, not entirely. A couple weeks ago I picked up two spray bottles of Round-Up® weed killer. After work one night, I emptied both onto the unwanted vegetation - as much as they could cover, anyway. The bottles ran dry before I was able to cover the entire walkway. The remaining green has gotten a temporary respite. Live it up, Weedies. Your time is short.

Here's a picture of the stuff I'm up against. This is the section of walkway next to the driveway and up to the front-side door, which I use every day. You can see how it's been a nagging reminder that there's some work ahead for me. I'll assign this a Level One area ::

Weeds: Level One

Friggin' disaster, innit? Those blue-greyish looking bits are flagstones which are about a square foot, on average. Some bigger, some smaller but they're there.

This is what the entire walkway looked like prior to the original application of Round-Up® a couple weeks ago. Once the spray was applied, the weeds began to die and after a few days were completely dead.

There are a lot of products out there that make bold claims of what they can do for you. That they're the best at what they do. This is the first product I've used to kill unwanted weed and grass, so I don't have a vast database of which succeed and which fall short of its promise. I will say, however, this stuff works. And works well.

Here is proof of those results; the treated portion of the walkway. This section gets a Level Two rating ::

Weeds: Level Two

Outside of non-existent weeds, these are my next favourite kind - brown, dried, and dead.

Looking good but the job's not done, yet. Once the solvent does its work, it's pickin' time. This is the part of the project I began today. Down and dirty, on the ground, pulling every dead weed and tuft of grass out by the roots. Just like my dad taught me when I was a wee tyke, after which I was forced into child labor to keep the tomatoes, cucumbers, zucchinis, summer squashes, radishes, and bell peppers free to grow.

Today reminded me of those summers spent 'weeding the garden' as a kid. The work is a bit painstaking - but it also comes with a nice sense of satisfaction.

Here is the section I started on today. This photo represents just under three hours of work. After a short break to pick up my lawnmower from the shop, I continued for another hour and 45 minutes and did a bit more. This is the Level Three section of the walkway ::

Weeds: Level Three

This is pretty much the goal of the project; to rid the walkway of all weed and grass. Is it life-or-death? No. I could just as easily pull up all the flagstones and gravel, allow the grass to fill in, and be done with it.

That's not what I'm looking for, though. So, the project continues. Starting again tomorrow. I just hope Mother Nature doesn't catch up with me and I'm starting all over again right when I've reached the end.

There's a fair amount to tackle ahead and it won't be finished tomorrow, that I'm sure of. Just gotta keep on pluckin'. Once it's cleared, keeping up on it will be the task. Like Sisyphus and his rock...

Here's an overall view of the project area ::

Weeds: Composite

The beds inside the walk and up against the house are another project - for another time. Tomorrow, however, is slated to be another perfect summer's day. My back is a bit sore and my forefingers and thumbs are feeling it... but it's Day Two of Project Walkway for me.

Awright, Awright

2008-06-26T21:28:00.003-04:00

It's been a few weeks, I know. But I've got a perfectly viable explanation - I've just awoken from a three-week, heat-induced coma. Frightening stuff, to be sure.

Here's the deal. As noted in the last post, I was all geared up to enjoy the luxurious climate control that was to be delivered by my Jet Propulsion Laboratory made central air conditioning system (which I later learned was only engineered by NASA).

At first, I thought my misprogramming of the device was the reason it hadn't kicked in to deliver those first precious bursts of cool, cool air. The next two days were relatively cold, so it then seemed that the ambient temperature was to blame. Ahhh... No.

Fast-forward to Friday of that week. Outside temperatures rising in anticipation of the big weekend heat-wave. Inside temperatures dutifully keeping pace. Then the weekend arrived and things began to accelerate - out of control, one might say.

The 'cool' air that had been blowing constantly turned out to be not-so-cool, at all. The whole time, I kept wondering why the compressor outside wasn't spinning. A vicious cycle developed with me sweating on the couch, fiddling with the JPL/NASA thermostat, looking out the window anticipating (hoping? begging?) the compressor fan would start whirling - as it had done the month before when the heat was running.

Sweating, fiddling, begging. Sweating, fiddling, begging. Temperature rising. Sweating, fiddling, begging. Temperature rising... Sweating, sweating, sweating.. Until Sunday night when the thermostat read a blistering 85ºF.

That's when I lost consciousness. Apparently, I've been languishing on the couch, caked in a layer of salt from the gallons of sweat that had dried on my skin, ever since.

Actually, that's not entirely true. Oh, everything up until the Sunday night bit is 100% fact. The heat-induced coma is just a bit of hyperbole on my part.

Truth is, I got hold of the guy that installed the HVAC system and he showed up to have a look at the compressor that Monday afternoon. Timing is everything, they say, yeah? He found a conductor of some sort that had been fried, leaving the compressor powerless. Conductor replaced, compressor repaired, and the coolness did flow. Ahhhh...

It's been brilliant ever since and I couldn't be more pleased with it. Some say central air conditioning is a luxury; I classify it more as a necessity.

<----------------------------------------------------->

In the meantime, not much else of import has passed. Yeah, I'm aware that just about everything posted here is of little import. Touché. I'm gonna continue to put it down, regardless. So sod off! No, not really. Yes, Mr. Stokes, I am havin' a laugh...

That's not to say nothing at all has happened. This past weekend after mowing the lawn, I came in to wash up and after taking off my sneakers and socks, I noticed this :

Dirty Feet

That's exciting, innit?

<----------------------------------------------------->

One thing I've been happy with since moving into mi casa nueva, I have to say, is the small community of wildlife that I share my space with.

Birds, chipmunks, snakes (I've seen one). Over the weekend, I noticed a new visitor. A red cardinal (are they really called St. Louis cardinals?). I saw him in my front yard on Saturday, then saw him again out back on Sunday and took this photo :

Cardinal

It's not the clearest picture. He is much more vibrant with the naked eye. I hope he sticks around all summer, though. He's pretty cool to look at.

That's about it for now, so I'm gonna fly...

Baby, It's Warm Outside

2008-06-03T22:25:00.008-04:00

Oh shit. Here it comes. The first real heat of the season.

Technically it's still spring until 21 June, the first day of summer on the calendar. Yet, the upcoming weekend is supposed to be bringing us a July-August preview, as it's said it could reach 90°+ for the weekend. I didn't want to say it - but - in super-technical meteorologist lingo, that's considered a heat wave.

Some of you will be lovin' it. I won't. The heat is my kryptonite.

Don't get me wrong - I loooooove the fine weather! However, much like Julio Lugo, I just can't cope with the 'high-heat'.

So tonight I thought I'd start working on the ol' central air-conditioning system to get the house primed for the scorching weekend. How's it working out, you ask? I'm sweating my Motha'uckin nuts off! That's how.

When I arrived home about 4:30 today the ambient indoor temperature was 75°F. After more than five hours with the C-A/C running the temperature is currently a cool.... 75°F. No shit.

It's likely that I'm not setting the NASA-regulated operating panel appropriately. But shouldn't setting the temperature LOWER (much lower) than the ambient temperature get the thing kick-started? That's how my old system worked - and that was only heat. No central-air. Set it a few degrees higher than ambient? Heat comes on. Set it a few lower? Yup. Heat goes off. Simple, innit?

Now I've got it set to the minimum - 45°F. I'm leaving it at that setting overnight. Maybe it will take some time to remove the residual heat from the square footage. To suck out all the heat. Mmmmm...

I'm hoping I wake up in the middle of the night, my teeth chattering, my David Bowie Nipple Antennae shredding my T-shirt and sheets whilst still sending 'dah-ta back to earth', and reach for the down comforter next to the bed. If not, something's not functioning properly. And - last time I checked - the antennae are in working order.

I've been perusing the instruction manual throughout the evening and I'm still baffled. Here's the control panel, which appears harmless enough. Trust me - based on the fine "detail" in the instruction booklet it'll take a PhD in Thermodynamics and Technical Application to figure this thing out :

(NASA™) Control Panel

See that LCD screen? The number on the right is the current temperature setting. The number on the left? Yah, that would be the current ambient temperature... after five hours running. Granted, I've eff-ed with it quite a bit tonight. And there has been a constant flow of 'cool' air from all the outlets. It's just not like my old, 30lb window A/Cs. Give those beasts 1/2 an hour on a 90° late July Saturday afternoon and you're sitting chilly. Just have to figure this thing out and adapt accordingly.

I only hope I can figure it all out by Thursday night and I'm well adapted by the weekend.

Oh, I just saw a pretty big spider cruising across my bedroom wall. Second one in a few weeks - and this one was bigger than the first. Like about an inch or more. Those mini, ¼-inch to ½-inch ones don't count. Creepy. In the family room is one thing but the bedroom? Super creepy. Imagine what might happen while sleeping. That thing was fast, too.

Of Bugs and Wires and Then Some

2008-06-01T23:08:00.004-04:00

Thursday eve was out of the question. I wanted to put something up but I was a bit lethargic after watching the Celts/Pistons game at Ye Olde Hillside Pub with some friends Wednesday night. Question : "How does a basketball game, made up of four 12 minute quarters (48 minutes), take more than 3 hours to broadcast?"

Nevermind. I know how. Unacceptable. The marketing infiltration these days is offensive and needs to be curtailed, if not entirely eliminated, now. Odds on that one? Nil. Never gonna happen. Mini-soapbox - descended.

So, there wasn't much missed in those extra days. Yesterday made up for all that, though. What an afternoon...

Friday night; return home about Eleven pm and pop on the tele. No live tv feed. Alright, I'm thinking there's a sporadic outing and things return to normal in the morning. Watch some pre-recorded stuff. Bedtime.

Saturday morning; attain status of connection (tele, yes, in addition to internet and telephone). No connection on any of the three. It's time to make a call.

Saturday afternoon; Comcast agrees to send a repairman as soon as available and doesn't disappoint. For the second time since being in my house, Comcast has done me right in terms of service. This time, however, it's not your normal visit. No.

This time, the outside feed from the street to the house has been entirely ripped away. Completely. It no longer exists.

So, the first repairkid makes some calls to the 'bucket truck' (because this is no ordinary fix-it) and, eventually, gets up on the roof. Re-installs the necessary wiring; helps the 'bucket truck' guy with his wiring; I help the both of them with some tree manuevering, and such, to get the wiring into place. You know, standard Saturday morning shit.

No, I really didn't have that much to do with it - but the work that went into getting me re-connected? It was well appreciated. They did a fantastic job.

They had me back on-line (in all three senses of the word) before Five pm. Brilliant.

<----------------------------------------------------->

In addition to all of those shenanigans, the freakout of the month, nay, year also occurred. Those dreaded of most dreaded creatures appeared. Termites.

Holy Shit!! Oh fuck. And that's putting it cleanly. The last F-ing thing I need to deal with now is those buggers. I can't even type the word again.

The running theory is that they're the final bits of the colony and the sign of a defunct population. I'm betting high on that theory. What the hell!? I paid well over a grand to protect this place from those.. those... uuurrgghhh! Fuckin' termites!

I don't understand it. Although, I hope to be educated soon enough - like tomorrow afternoon. A guy from the company that did the initial treatment is supposed to come by and have a look. Surprise, surprise! Theeeeeey're baaaaack!

Which is what I find most puzzling. It's been almost three months since I first looked at this house. Nothing in that time would predict this. There had never been live activity? Jeepers... I don't fucking get it.

But, then again, I'm no insect expert. And it pisses me off.

I've got photos of the pricks writhing on the top of my dryer but I can't bear to post them... It's as if they'll win. I'll give the control company the benefit of the doubt and hold all comment. Until I hear from them. Then all bets are off.

<----------------------------------------------------->

Outside of all that craziness, good things also happened. Home Depot gift cards were used to get some privacy, among other things.

As much as I hate that I screwed up the measurements, it all worked out okay. The blinds I picked up still cover (most of) the windows in the family room. It's so nice to have the windows covered. Definitely going for the rest of them, first thing.

One thing I can recommend with 100% return : Always write down the measurements you need. Don't rely on memory - 'cuz it don't work! I was off by a half-inch and it almost sunk me. I was lucky enough to be able to put the shades on the outer part of the window... but I'm glad I took the HD employee's advice and went with the cheaper option.

Take my word - Measure twice, thrice... cut (buy) once.

And that's the recent excitement. god, what the hell...

A Day Early and Many Dollars Short

2008-05-21T22:51:00.003-04:00

The recent run of Thursday night posts has been interrupted by this Wednesday night early edition.

First things first. Comments have been pouring* in regarding my hardware. Things like, 'This is sooooo amazing! How do you manage this phenomenal blog?!'

Brace yourselves... here it is - a 'self-portrait' of the machine that allows it all to happen. My laptop :

I picked it up just over a year ago - and just in time, as those of you that remember my frustrations with my desktop PC may recall. It's held up well (it should've, it's only been about 15 months). I've got to get my arse in gear and get a backup program going, though. No way in hell I want to go through that nonsense again. Especially with everything I've dumped onto this puppy.

(Dell, please leave a comment if you'd like to use this photo for promotional reasons. Otherwise, I will own you if I find this anywhere near an advert)

<-------------------------------------------->

Other than whoring out photos I find enjoyable, this post comes to you as the very first that's post-apartment and entirely home-owned. That's right. As mentioned last week, yesterday was the final day of my paid days at the old apartment. It's all mortgage ball-and-chain from here on out, baby! Bust out the pot noodle and let's celebrate...

One thing mentioned as I was going through the whole process was the timing. It's still working out pretty well in that regard. The upcoming weekend brings two, well-appreciated things. One - no previously scheduled events (visits, dinners, et al). Two - a Monday holiday. That's right. A three-day holiday weekend with no extracurricular activities to lend distraction. The opportunities are endless, as far as three days will take you, anyhow.

How much actually gets accomplished is up for debate but the stakes are high.

<-------------------------------------------->

For one (here comes the Many Dollars Short portion), I stopped at Lowe's on my way home and put in an order for a new washer/dryer set. It was a bit more than I was hoping to spend - but their utility will prove invaluable in short order. Not to mention, the Lowe's Chick hooked me up by taking the 10% discount from my USPS coupon package without taking the coupon. No, I don't remember which Lowe's store it was. It may have been in New Hampshire? Sorry, can't remember... much too long ago.

Anyway, they're scheduled to be delivered sometime on Saturday, installed, and (best of all) the old units will be removed. Paah-tay! Can't wait.

I suppose these are the mundane things that home-owners get excited about. Washing clothes. Brilliant. It may seem like an inconsequential thing but, over the long haul, it definitely makes the day-to-day grind that much more simple. Clears the schedule for the more important items and events. And that's a fine development in my eyes.

<-------------------------------------------->

Something else I'll have to learn to live and/or battle with is... the bugs. About two weeks after moving in, the stray black ant has been spotted. Sometimes by me, sometimes - as noted by the fixated stare - by Spinny. I've probably 'napkined' about 10 of them at this point. Nothing overwhelming - just something I never really dealt with in the apartment. Perhaps being on the second floor was they key. The folks on the first floor probably dealt with the brunt of the assault.

Tonight, however, was different. I found one of those slick, fast, creepy-looking silverfish looking things. Ewwww! Ugh - something about those filthy little critters gets to me at the instinctual level. They really creep me out.

Once I've got everything put away and the place is cleared out, it's gonna be bug-clearin' time. I can hope, anyway.

<-------------------------------------------->

That's about it at this time. If anyone has any bug-killing tips, feel free to enlighten me. Other than that, a few more pics of the house from before I deposited my junk (and one in progress) :

Mudroom

Family Room

Kitchen

Helper

Takk...

*p.s. That's a facetious comment; no one has been asking about my lame-ass computer.

And Down the Stretch They Come!

2008-05-15T23:00:00.002-04:00

Another week, another step closer to making the break for good. The lease on the old apartment officially terminates next Tuesday - 20 May. (Cue Barenaked Ladies?) Things are on track for just a few more stops and 'old' becomes 'OLD', capital done.

The first piece of forwarded mail arrived at the new house today, which was a relief. I filed a change-of-address form on-line and was wondering where all my mail was. After checking the USPS site earlier this week, I was relieved to see that it usually takes 7-10 mail-days for the forwarding to take place. That explains the absence up 'til today. It should start flowing in like mad, now.

Tonight was book-keeping night, as I made a few more address changes for my banks and credit cards. I was relieved to receive my new car registration in the mail (and all-important sticker) with my new address intact, as well.

What also arrived in the mail, which kinda freaked me out a bit, was my first mortgage coupon. Holy crap! I've bought a flippin' house... That's it - no turning back, now. Why didn't anyone warn me!?

It's all good - but seeing that coupon, with that new monthly payment amount on it... aye-yi-yi! It'll be an interesting few months this summer as I adjust to the new budget. After seeing it in black-and-white, I know a few of the genius plans I had for this summer will probably be put on hold for a while.

Outside of that, things are absolutely swell. The house is still awash with boxes and debris that needs to be put away - but I've got all summer to do that (and it'll cost me nothing!)

No pics tonight; got going too late but I wanted to put something down to keep the post streak alive. Three Thursdays in a row. Gotta be a record for me, yeah?

More to come soon enough...

Oh, just one non sequitur - that song in the new Heineken TV adverts is quite catchy.

Sláinte

Seven Days Later

2008-05-08T20:26:00.012-04:00

Just about 37 minutes shy, to the week, since the last post and things are moving along swimmingly. Perhaps if it was rough seas, a mangrove swamp, or oatmeal you're swimming in.

Actually, it hasn't been that bad. It's just taking me a lot longer than I had hoped to clean out the residual clutter from my apartment. I made stops on my way home last night and tonight - and plan on another one tomorrow night - to pick up a bunch of stuff. Luckily (although, I'm paying for it), I have until 20 May to "git outta Dodge" for good. It's also a huge benefit that my old apartment is pretty much on my way from work to 'the house'.

A big concern I have is ditching the three air conditioner units at the old place. Once again, timing is everything in that Saturday is Norwood's Spring Hazardous Waste drop-off day. The new house has central a/c so I won't be needing them - and I sure as heck don't want them sitting uselessly in my basement to deal with later. As luck would have it, I spoke with my landlord today and he has offered to take them there for me (along with a broken down gas grill and, possibly, an old computer monitor or two). That will be a huge help.

For my efforts, I managed to unpack the majority of my kitchen stuff tonight. Only one large box of pots and pans to go and that room is done. The unpacking, that is. I wiped clean the cabinets and put most of what I unpacked away - but I'm not sold on the placement. Hey, at least it's out of the way for now. I'll do some re-arranging later when I get a better feel for the flow of the kitchen.

One thing I realized (as I was packing, actually) is that I have loads of packing paper to dispose of. I wish I could recycle it - but it's more likely that it'll end up as simple trash out on the curb. I still don't know what the deal is with trash pick-up in these parts. Guess I better call Town Hall and find out. Add it to the to-do list, I suppose.

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(Nerd Alert!)

I'm not sure what has compelled me to do so but I've created a spreadsheet to track all my home improvement and repair investments. Probably the excitement of owning a property as opposed to renting. Maybe I'll classify it as equity? Anyhow, I'm going to give it a go. It's possible that by the end of the summer I'll be so depressed with how much I've spent that it gets binned... but maybe not. It should be an interesting document if I keep it up. Looking back on the good ol' days. Nostalgia and that.

Here's what I've got so far :

May 2008
...May 01, 2008 - Shower Curtain/Rod - Home Depot - $23.19
...May 03, 2008 - Mailbox and Post - Home Depot - $99.69
May 2008 Total - $122.88

Fascinating, I know. You don't have to tell me twice. I'm a programmer. I live for nerdy shit like this.

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After a full week in the new digs (and no strangers a-comin' and a-goin') the kitty is definitely feeling much better about things. She's been wandering about and enjoying the many ground-level windows. Although she hasn't spent much time there, as I can tell, I think the French doors in the mud room out to the back will eventually become a favourite spot. Those windows are really at her level.

She did enjoy the bay window for a spell earlier this evening. Here's the evidence to prove it :

Those windows, by the way, are currently painted shut. The home inspector told me a metal spatula would do the trick. Tried it. No luck. The spatula's edge (which I bought specifically for this purpose - oo! I should add that to the spreadsheet) was too rounded for the job. Another item for the to-do list.

Anyhow, she's been great. Still eating like there's no tomorrow but she seems happy. By this point, she probably has no idea she's ever lived anywhere else. Not true, I know - but she may as well. It'll definitely be the last place she ever inhabits. It's science.

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Just for kicks, my bathroom sink - all 'arted' up in sepia tone. The masses are clamoring for house pics. Okay, one person asked. It's fun for me, though, so I'll happily oblige. Wait 'til you see my mailbox post. The Before and After pics will astound you!

Until next time. Viszlát !

Success at Last

2008-05-01T21:09:00.006-04:00

Unbelievably, everything has finally fallen into place. As I type this, I'm sitting in my new living room, in my new house, watching the Red Sox game on my new TiVo-enhanced digital cable system. Unbelievable.

Looking back on my previous posts, it was Monday 3 March when I first saw this house and put an offer on it later that evening. Here I am, 59 days later, settling in. It's freaky.

I won't bore you with the details of the frustration that went along with acquiring my loan. Suffice to say, there were a few things - one in particular - that were nothing short of maddening. That one thing had to do with satisfying the bank's requirement of ensuring that there was no 'structural damage' due to wood-boring insects (in this case, the mighty termite).

The crux of the issue was the bank needed proof that there had been no structural damage, yet they could not tell me, precisely, what form that proof should take. I'll keep it short and sweet and just note that it was all worked out. Albeit, literally, at the last possible moment but it was done.

I have to note that my loan was an FHA (Federal Housing Athourity, I think) backed loan - aka 'the Government'. So, I understand the added insurance they require to prove the house isn't about to crumble to dust. Additionally, it's an advantage to those who don't have alot of capital to put in for a down payment. Which is my situation. So, all in all, it really wasn't too bad. Just a bit of a distraction and point of frustration at some times - but as I sit here now, it's clear it was all well worth it.

Aside from that, I am amazed - pleasantly amazed - at how well everything has gone since the loan was approved.

The closing was scheduled for yesterday (30 April) and I hired a moving company to move me in today (1 May). Both events were executed brilliantly. Props to a friend who works for Gentle Giant Moving for hooking me up with a great experience. The three guys were in my old place at 9:30 a.m. and were finished unloading at my new place by 2:30 p.m. Excellent job. They left me with a customer service survey to fill out which is usually something I unceremoniously toss straight in the bin. This one, I'll be happy to fill out and submit. Now it's up to me to unpack everything and find a place for it all.

Another amazing event occurred when I called Comcast yesterday. Yes, Comcast. I spoke with a service representative, explained when I was moving, and where from, and he set me up with a relocation installation today. They had a local installation availability today between 2:00 and 5:00 p.m. Perfect.

So, what happens? No - the technician did not show up at 4:45. He showed at 2:30. Literally as the Giant guys were hopping in the truck ready to pull away. He was here for about an hour and 45 minutes and when he left, my TiVo-DVR-Digital cable, internet, and brand new phone number were all up and running.

And here I am, about five hours later (after a trip back to the apartment, my first - of many, I'm sure - stop at Home Depot, and a well-needed shower), posting this fascinating story for your pleasure.

You don't need to say it; I know you're reading this slack-jawed with awe.

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Outside of all that, the other wild card in the process is Spinny, my cat. She's an ol' vet at 14 (and having moved no less than four times before she was five) but after 9.5 years at the old place, I was curious to see how she'd adjust.

The morning, and afternoon for that matter, were pretty rough. Quarantined in this room or that for periods of time, I could hear her mews of protest, anxiety, and nervousness. So, like females are wont to do in times of anxiety - she ate. I don't think I've ever seen her eat as much - or as often - as she did today.

Alas, she seems content, as she's currently reposing in the armchair across from me taking a late bath.

At first, she was unsure of her surroundings. I know this because her first few spots visited were the corners of closets in various rooms. However, once I returned from my late afternoon errands, she began to explore a bit more. She seems comfortable now - as a wily vet would - and it appears she'll be back to her old self in short order.

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Lastly, there's one glaring issue with my new home. There are no window treatments to speak of anywhere in the house. So, for the time being, I'll have to curtail my nightly ritual of the nude security check. No prancing from room to room, unclad, as I check that everything is in order. At least until I get some window shades.

So there it is. 59 days, start to finish. Unbelievable.

Salute to the Boston Bruins

2008-04-21T21:29:00.015-04:00

Alas, their valiant effort ended tonight in Montréal.

There are many things to take away from this amazing first round playoff series. In the end, it's not surprising the Canadiens won the series. What is extremely surprising, and promising, is that the Bruins were able to force the series to a game 7.

After the disappointing showing the Bruins had in the 2006-07 season, no one expected much from this team. They didn't really do much in the offseason to improve their chances going forward. They didn't have much salary cap room to do much. There were no big free agent signings, as with the previous off-season (Marc Savard - C, Zdeno Chara - D).

They did get rid of head coach Dave Lewis and hired Claude Julien. Personally, I liked Dave Lewis - as a person. He was an entertaining personality; he just never gained the respect? trust? something of the team last season. Apparently, coaching matters because Julien was able to do so much more with just about the same roster.

With that said, I think the young players that were here this season - which were not here last season - had a huge impact.

The new fan favorite, myself included, is 19 year old left wing Milan Lucic (#17). The kid is a beast. People are (prematurely, in my mind) referring to him as Neely-like. I think that's alot to expect. However, he is tough as nails with a nose for the puck. General Manager Peter Chiarelli was wise to hold on to him through the trade deadline. He's the type of player that Bruins fans love to watch and I hope he sticks around for many seasons to come.

Another player who had a huge impact this season was center David Krejci (#46). He turns 22 in a week. When Marc Savard went down late in the season with a back injury (courtesy of Les Habitants de Montréal), Krejci stepped up huge and went on a nice scoring run to keep the playoff hopes of the Bruins alive. I like this kid and, once again, I'm glad Chiarelli had the patience not to move him at the deadline just to make a move.

I'll round out the top three young impact players with center Vladimir Sobotka (#60). He'll be 21 in July. He's not afraid to get dirty, go deep into the corners, and - even at only 5' 10", 183 lbs - loves to hit. Keep it up Vladi.

Noting the last two players mentioned, they were here out of necessity after an unbelievably cheap hit by the Philadelphia Flyers's Randy Jones on center Patrice Bergeron (#37) early in the season. The October 27 boarding (which Jones only received a 3-game suspension for) nearly broke Bergeron's neck and left him with a severe concussion that left him sidelined for the remainder of the season. I'm looking forward to Bergeron's return next season. And the first Bruins-Flyers game.

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Another thing I've taken to heart from this series is the renewed rivalry with the Canadiens. Since the mid-90s it hasn't been much of a rivalry with the Bruins not really having the team to compete with them. The Bruins lost all 8 games with the Habs this season (and the first 2 in this playoff series). To bring this series to a game 7 was an enormous accomplishment. The Bruins barely made the playoffs as the eigth, and final, seed. The Canadiens were the best team in the Eastern Conference. Believe me when I say - the Canadiens's fans weren't looking forward to a game 7.

Outside of that, watching this series has renewed my personal (sports) hatred of the Bleu, Blance, et Rouge... Their fans are smug and fair-weather, in my opinion. Watching them stream out of the Bell Centre during game 5 as the Bruins were handing it to them was a delight. I'm looking forward to the next round just to see who will take them out of Cup Contention. My second favorite team is the team that does just that.

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Finally, I was glad to see that the Bruins managed to garner some interest from the local sports fan community in these parts.

I'm so tired of the over-saturation of everything Red Sox. I'm a Sox fan but things are getting a bit ridiculous. It's almost the same with the Patriots. And with the Celtics beginning their run to their next NBA championship, the Bruins have been a forgotten team - and hockey a forgotten sport.

It's too bad. Hockey is a phenomenal game to watch. Playoff hockey is that, ten-fold. The Bruins need to keep the pace of improvement and build on what they've accomplished this season.

It may be a generational thing, with this not being a generation of hockey fans, but I believe if the Bruins can get through a few rounds of the playoffs in the next season or two that may change. I'm hopeful, anyway. Yes, I know I'm biased - but I'll take an NHL playoff game over anything in terms of edge-of-your-seat excitement.

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There are probably hundreds, thousands, more words I could devote to this but this will suffice for now. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the Sox defense of their World Series title, the Celts' run for the NBA title, and the (ahem) NFL draft? No, sorry, I can't condone being excited for that... In addition, I also hope that you save a small bit of hope, excitement, of your heart - for the toughest guys on the Boston sports scene.

Let's Go Bruins!

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Oh! One more comment. One other thing that separates the NHL Playoffs from the other major sports. The handshake. The post-series handshake, when the teams line up on the ice, skate past, and shake the hand of each, individual player on the opposing team.

There were a number of big one-on-one battles within this series. I was particularly surprised by the effectiveness defenseman Aaron Ward (#44) showed in taking Alexei Kovalev out of the mix.

The battle of the series, however, was Milan Lucic with Mike Komisarek. These guys beat on each other for seven, long, tough games. It's one of the great sub-plots of an NHL Playoff series. In any case, through the magical brilliance of the DVR and the electronic wizardry of the Panasonic Lumix DMC-FX01 Digital Camera, I was able to capture the precise moment these two players met up in the queue.

Home Fries

2008-04-07T23:39:00.004-04:00

Jeez - reading back on that last post, makes it feel like a year. Apparently, it was about a month... somewheres in that vicinity, anyway.

It's about a month later and everything looks lined up. A couple stubborn hurdles to pass over but nothing (positive thoughts) insurmountable. Down the home stretch I go.

You hear a lot about how stressful the process of buying a house is. Some people take it and multiply it - so it's more stressful than it needs to be. Some people underestimate it and assume it'll be easy. Word to the wise - "They're all different. And each will drive you crazy."

That's what I can say I've learned to this point. Nothing makes sense. Everything is done backwards... It's mayhem! The Real Estate market is - fucked up - !

Seriously. It's well messed up.

Too much weird shit has happened within the last month that there's no way to doco it all here. They're stories worth telling, though. So. I guess. Beware?

One other thing before signing off - I just saw something on the news that led me to believe that Patrice Bergeron would be ready for the first round of the playoffs. This is a huge development, as he's been out since late October with a severe concussion.

I wonder if it's an organization pushing a player too hard for their own gain. Think about it. Bergeron's a Quebec native. The series opens Thursday with two games in Montreal (game 2 Saturday). That's a boost the Bruins could use - having gone 0-8 against the Habs in the regular season, without Bergie.

We'll see. It's probably a lot of over-thought and over-analyzation but it stands to mention : Let's see how much Patrice Bergeron produces in the playoffs; and let's see how much punishment he takes.

Don't get me wrong - I'd have nothing more than the Bs upsetting the Habs in round one... but, realistically, I don't see it happening. Montreal is too fast and skilled to lose to the Bruins in a seven game series.

I have to go with the Canadiens in five games. Gods be pleased, I'm wrong.

Let's Go Bruins!

In the Hold of Others

2008-03-10T21:17:00.002-04:00

First, a quick re-cap of last month's 'offer' I was preparing for my first ever bid on a house.

I finally got everything together and prepared an offer about a week and a half ago - maybe it was Wednesday 27 February. Thursday, I find out that the nitwit selling the house already had it under agreement for two weeks. There was no indication in the MLS system which, apparently, isn't quite 'kosher'... Had I known, it would've saved me alot of stress and aggravation. I wasn't too happy with that revelation at the time.

Now, it could be classified under 'unexpected negative events that tend to correct themselves somehow'. For now, at least, that's the case.

As soon as that deal fell through, it was back to the search. I went to three open houses the following weekend and one of the three houses looked somewhat promising. While making arrangements to view the property with my friend (aka Real Estate Broker), an automated e-mail came in Monday morning (3 March). The photos looked great, the location was within my range, and I had to check the place out.

That afternoon during my lunch 'hour' I went and took a look. The house looked perfect. We were told that an offer was coming in that evening, so I decided to throw one of my own in, as well. So, one good thing about the original debacle was that I had already gotten alot of the information I needed to put in an offer in good standing (what I felt was something I could handle). That made things so much easier to make that quick decision.

The next night, I heard back and the sellers had accepted my offer. A pretty sly offer it was, too.

So now, I've got a signed offer on a house in the same town as the original house I was looking at. This new house, however, looks like a much better match for what I was looking for. The two most obvious things being a wood-burning fireplace and an attached, one-car garage. Things the original house did not have. Funny how things like that work out, innit?

Friday afternoon was the home inspection and things went as well as could be expected. A few typical things were found - but nothing catastrophic that might scare me away from buying. On top of that, everything in the house is practically brand new. Tile floors, hardwood floors, a large 'family room', etc. It's perfect.

I can't get too caught up in it, though. I won't claim it as my own until everything is taken care of. Right now, it's (what else?) the financing that is the biggest question. Originally, I was told, "Don't worry, we can get you in..." with all the requirements I would need to get the deal done. Now, I'm on edge waiting for that confirmation that, yeah, they can get me in with all that.

It's brutal, not knowing. I do have some slight recourse, should I need to tap some additional capital. Ideally, I won't have to.

So that's where it is now - a signed agreement with the Purchase and Sales signing set for Tuesday 18 March and a closing of 30 April. That gives me a week to nail down the lender to commit to giving me the loan. And that, in today's market, is no slam-dunk (as much as I was told about a month and a half ago).

For the time being, I remain optimistic. Time to put the screws to 'em and get some commitment from them. That's the next step. Once I have that, I'll feel alot more confident that it will all work out. Until then, I'll proceed with tempered enthusiasm, knowing that things could go pear-shaped at a moment's notice.

I guess that's what everyone is referring to when they say home buying can be stressful. Personally, I know I'm ready. It's relying on other people, institutions, and such that really bring the stress into it.

I'm ready to roll, yet stuck in the hold of others... a tough situation to be in.

Strange Days Indeed

2008-02-19T23:30:00.000-05:00

Odd things are happening these days. Cryptic words, for sure. As they could be assigned to your personal 'happenings'... in the event anything happening around you, you find odd.

Think about that. For some time, later on. In the meantime, by the innate nature of the blog, I hate to say that you gotta read my thoughts. Them's the rules.

Luckily for you, I've lost, misplaced, or entirely forgotten most - if not all - of my thoughts. Thanks alot.

What I do know is that I did not put an offer on a house, as I insinuated in my last post. However, things have been on the upswing in that realm and this might be the week.

I've found a decent mortgage broker and I like the house, so if things go well this week an offer is in the making.

Whether it's the offer that gets it done is another story. But ya gotta try it to know...

This week could be interesting.

Bon Hiver

2008-01-28T23:04:00.000-05:00

What a weekend.

It's dead winter and I've had a phenomenal weekend. Everyone's always complaining about winter in Massachusetts... I say, "It is what you make of it."

Not sure if I've ever, technically, said that - but I do know that's been my theory ever since I was small. The winter season is beautiful and therapeutic. The idea of your entire existance being blanketed with layers and layers of snow is fantastic.

Every winter, snow comes to New England. Every winter, people complain. Every spring, why would you be anywhere else?

No idea.

One of the cool/exciting things I did over the weekend was visit an Open House. It's an old 'colonial' about 100 years old with the inside refurbished. The interior is all new - doors, windows, bathroom, kitchen, floors, etc. Detached two-story garage. Very nice.

Much to my surprise, I'm throwing an offer out on the place. Kind of surprising but it looks in such good condition, I have to do it.

It's only the 3d or 5th house I've looked at... but it's got alot going for it. Now, I just have to find someone who'll lend me a few bucks and I'm on my way.

Should be interesting. I'm well prepared for it not happening. In fact, that's just about what I'm expecting. That's fine. It's a great opportunity to get things rolling and start learning the process. On the other hand, if it works out I'll be pretty happy. At least until the roof caves in...

Knobcast : Episode Six

2007-12-02T15:56:00.000-05:00

Episode 6 is now available for your enjoyment, here on Knobcast.

Odds and Sods, Bits and Bobs

2007-11-29T21:52:00.000-05:00

I finally took the plunge. I cracked the case on my dormant and dusty pc to try and work on the faulty hard drive. Now I know why I waited so long...

Needless to say, it's not going well. Not only does the drive not register as a peripheral (connected by USB to my, so far, trusty laptop) but I tried to install the brand new hard drive that I purchased over three months ago and that has become a struggle.

I'm starting to believe that there are 'time bombs' installed on all computers that are sold today. After a randomly determined time - say, anywhere between one to four years - there is a command that is triggered and the machine melts to shit in some fashion or another. With my last few machines, it's been like clockwork.

I'm about ready to take the hard drive to a data-recovery expert, pay the ridiculous fee, and get whatever data I can from it... and then, as mentioned in a previous post, smash the thing to bits with a hurley. This is bullshit.

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It's official : Knobcast has a nice, new permanent home. There have been two new episodes posted since last mention, with the final episode of Season 1 upcoming this weekend. It's been fun. Check it out and let us know what you think.

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It's "that time of year" again... the Holidays. Yipee. I could go on and on about everything I dislike about it all. Maybe in a future post. One thing I do enjoy is seeing all the houses festooned with holiday lights. Not the garish, over-the-top nonsense but the simple, classic, understated stuff.

Tastefully appointed houses with just the right touch are the ones that really get my attention. I have no patience for inflatable Santas and snowmen; colored lights haphazardly tossed onto bushes and trees; entire yards covered in plastic reindeer replicants... Enough.

All you need is simple, white lights in the windows, a classic wreath, and a spotlight highlighting it all. That's it. Maybe a symmetrical string of lights strategically placed on a fence or outlining the house.

Maybe I'll do a photo exposé of my favourite houses in the neighborhood. That sounds like a good weekend project. Beats going to the mall, that's for sure.

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The real estate market is supposedly still leveling off, meaning the prices should be returning to normal. However, that's all relative to what you can afford and the area of the country in which you live. To save you doing the math, it's not easy up here in the northeast on a single income.

What doesn't help is watching the real estate programs and seeing the 'difficult' choices the first-time buyers have to make. Ohhh, a four bedroom, two bath colonial for $280K is just too much... errr, whot!? Yah, if you're in friggin' Tennessee...

I know the cost of living differs wildly throughout the U.S. but it ain't easy watching these shows and seeing some of the available houses - and knowing there's nothing of the sort available for miles (hundreds) in my area. It's brutal.

But... it appears the landlord has taken 'my' house off the market for the winter (so I'm safe for a few months, I hope). Probably a wise idea. A better idea would be to realize the thing is priced about $100K too high. But I'm not complaining right now. Suits me for the time being.

There's no guarantee but it looks like the next year or so might open up some opportunities for me to purchase something. I've recently seen a house that has some promise, about 20 minutes from where I currently live. It probably won't be 'the one' but the fact that it is plausible is somewhat encouraging.

All I want is a house with good structural integrity, no impending, high-cost repairs, in a decent location... that's it. Is that too much to ask? Probably. Hey, you never know.

Apparently Not

2007-10-24T23:35:00.000-04:00

Sheesh. What a pessimist's attitude I had just nine short days ago. Re-reading that last post, as I sit here watching the Sox destroying the Rockies in Game 1 of the World Series (13-1 lead in the 7th), it's clear that the 2004 World Series win hadn't eliminated all of my Red Sox angst. Talk about an over-reaction.

This time round, though, I think it'll be different.

The comeback in the ALCS was fun to watch and I don't see that momentum slowing down anytime soon. When Julio Lugo is on base four times, needless to say, things are going well. And now Alex Cora is on the field. The Sox should roll and take their second World Series trophy in four years. Then, the angst will be gone for good. And let's just leave it at that.

In other recent developments, there's a new Knobcast episode (3) available. It can be found at the original Knobcast site - and also at the possible new home of Knobcast here.

We've experienced frequent technical difficulties at our original home, so Knob the Elder has done some work in migrating Knobcast to a blog-based location here at blogspot.com. Kudos to K the E for his work. Official relocation will be announced when a final decision has been made.

Panic Time ?

2007-10-15T23:21:00.000-04:00

I'm not sure I have the energy or mental capacity to truly break down the current American League Championship Series with the detail it (may or may not) deserve. However, I must say that after watching three games between the Sox and Indians, if I were a betting man - and had the option to put a bet down at this stage - I'd put my money on the Cleveland Indians.

I just think they have a much stronger pitching staff and a great line-up of recognizable offensive stars and their unknowns are out-performing the bottom of the Red Sox order.

Is the series over? Oh, by no means. There are four games left. The Sox can take 3 of 5 from the Indians, for sure. However, it appears the Sox bats have been quieted by this Cleveland pitching staff - and that, more than anything, can be disastrous for a baseball team in the playoffs. They only need to do it for a short period of time... and Cleveland has been getting it done the last two games.

Tim Wakefield goes tomorrow night. This is make-or-break.

If he's back to his old self and he can pull out seven innings, couple of earnies, the Sox might be okay. If it's Cleveland 5, Sox (anything less than five) after two or three? Forget it.

It's becoming obvious that the Red Sox don't have the full package at this stage of the season. If they move along and win the World Series from this point, it'll be an amazing feat of over-achievement, in my eyes.

They don't seem to have the pitching depth or the 'clutch' hitting that is needed to win it all. Hate to use the 'clutch' hitting refrain - but what I'm saying is, they're just not hitting... at all.

Should be an interesting next few games. Much more than could be said about their ho-hum ALDS victory over the Angels.

Fall (back) Into the Groove

2007-10-10T22:40:00.000-04:00

... aaaaaand, that's that.

September. It came. It went. Good riddance.

Outside April, it might be my least favourite month. I don't really know why April ranks twelfth out of twelve. Maybe it doesn't. But I do know #9 on the calendar is way down there on my list of 'top months'.

I can say with certainty, however, that this is my favourite of all the months. October. I absolutely love it. Especially here in New England.

One of the many benefits of October is the beginning of the NHL season. Tonight is the first night I've been able to sit and watch a Bruins game. They've played two to this point but I missed most of those due to previous engagements. They're in Anaheim, taking on the defending Stanley Cup champion Ducks right now - so, not a bad game to catch. It helps that it started at 10:30 EST.

What's been going on? What's been happening?

Well, first off - no change in the real estate realm. That's all I'm gonna say on that. It's good news, as far as my situation is concerned.

Outside of that, this past weekend was RibFest. It's an annual party my friend hosts at his house that developed almost ten years ago. Actually, about six years ago - the first three years were small gatherings until we realized that the ribs were way too good to keep to ourselves. Before that, it was just a few dudes getting together to cook the best Ribs ever. RibFest IV was the first 'official' RibFest when we decided to invite the masses to share in the deliciousness. It's been a grand ol' party ever since.

RibFest IV was the first year we introduced t-shirts. They've been a staple - and a hit - ever since and in recent years have become as much anticpated as the ribs themselves.

It's a great time and a great event and I'm already looking forward to RibFest X next fall. I might have to do a RibFest pictorial in a future post to share the progression of our t-shirt design over the years. Throw in some photos of the ribs, themselves ... it'll almost be like you're there.

Another artful diversion during the past month which has kept me from posting my inimitable prose in this space is the recently launched podcast that I've begun with a few mates. It's Knobcast.

It's in its beginning stages but it has been really fun to this point. We're still learning but you can give us a listen at : Knobcast. Check it out. Let us know what you think.

After that, there's not much more to relay. My messed up computer is still messed up. Although, I haven't done a lick of work in trying to regain what is missing. Maybe that says something about what I'm "missing" - but, come Tax time, I'm sure I'll feel the sting. So, that project is still on the books.

Going back to the best month of the year - I can't get enough of the beautiful days and cool nights. Perfect for sleeping with the windows cracked. The Halloween decorations that rival the Christmas decorations fill me with delight. The mere act of driving down a tree-lined street, outlined in the gold, yellow, brown, and red leaves that punctuate the season... jack-o-lanterns... witches, ghosts, monsters, and ghouls... nothing beats it. Nothing.

It is, hands down, the best time of the year.

Happy October, everyone.

And Now For My Next Trick

2007-08-29T23:09:00.000-04:00

Watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat.

On second thought, I think I'll leave that one to the expert... Bullwinkle.

Instead, I've ordered a new 80 GB hard drive for my computer which I'll attempt to install sometime this weekend. Perhaps on Monday, it being Labor Day and all. Seems fitting enough.

It arrived on my doorstep this past Monday (don't you just love the Internets?). I was planning to get going on it tonight - but I got home around 8:00 and I didn't want a dismantled PC strewn across my kitchen for the remainder of the week, had things gone horrifically wrong. I hear it's a piece of cake to do but I'd rather not leave things to chance with the way things are currently trudging along.

The thought here, in my ongoing quest to retrieve my missing gigabytes now residing in binary purgatory, is to get the machine up and running again. Once that's been done, add the original drive as a parallel drive, pull everything off it, and dump it onto the new one (then unceremoniously smash the old one to bits with a hurley).

Simple, eh. We'll see. It'll all depend on whether it's completely shot or just incapable of being used as the boot drive. I should be so lucky.

Either way, it should make for an interesting experiment. And for the forty bucks I spent on the new drive - it's worth the effort before having to take it to a data recovery shop. That'll be expensive, for sure.

So, that's that. I've got nothing else. Exhilirating, innit?

File Under : You've Got to be Kidding Me

2007-08-15T21:26:00.000-04:00

After a blissful weekend-plus of uninterrupted network connections, including an entire day (Monday) of working from home, I've been mercilessly blasted back into the world of PC hell. And this time, it's worse. Like a bad movie sequel.

I should've known things were too good to be true.

After turning on my desktop PC, I went and put some clothes away as it booted up. Only to return to find one of those frightening DOS-like screens with the giant letters showing on the monitor. All sorts of warnings and scary messages which mean nothing to those of us without a clue about the detailed inner-workings of our machines.

I'm a programmer by trade and had a Commodore 64 computer when I was 13, which must put me into some level of 'computer nerd' (which I happily embrace, thank you). But when shit like this happens, I'm lost.

Vrr, k'plink. Vrr, k'plink. Vrr, k'plink... A repetitive... taunting... horrifying... sound. Over and over again - accompanied by an ominous message to the effect of "Windows can not find a hard drive" or some nonsense.

What the ?! Thus, You've got to be kidding me.

After a few weekends of battling routers, IP addresses, TCP/IP Protocols, Subnet Masks, etc., I felt as if I had slayed the Wireless Dragon. Desktop and Laptop, both humming along, internet connections ablaze. This, after months of my desktop being all but inoperable due to network chaos. I'm a genius, no?

No, apparently. I find my desktop laying on its deathbed; burnt to a crisp, sputtering its barely audible last gasps.

The fear rushed through me as I made an assumptive connection - the introduction of the new router had been the invitation the Dragon was really waiting for. I rushed to my laptop and started it up, fearing the worst.

Alas, you're reading this so, thankfully, my laptop had been spared the wrath.

Actually, thankfully might be too passive. Luckily might have been a better choice. Luckily for the manufacturer of my new router.

If my laptop had been affected in a similar manner, I'd have absolutely lost it. I can't think of what I'd do - as customer service, these days, is more customer avoidance than actual service - but I'd have started some witch hunt or another. And that would make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry.

In any event, I'm trying to remain relatively calm amidst the situation. I don't use my desktop all that much but I was looking to use it tonight to transfer a bunch of music from it to my laptop. That project will certainly have to wait. I just hope there isn't a similar timebomb awaiting me here in this machine.

For now, it's back to the research board. Searching for answers, solutions, any toe-hold I can find to resuscitate the damned, hairy ape.

Of course, I welcome any words of wisdom from anyone who's experienced a similar fate and give my gratitude in advance.

Either way, I still have to ask, "You're joking, right?"

Thoughts On : Weather, Routers, Haircuts and the Eighties, & the Joys of Autumn

2007-08-10T21:04:00.000-04:00

What a glorious day. Well, glorious might be a tad strong a word - but it's pretty good, nonetheless. And leaps and bounds above this past Wednesday. Yikes.

Here in the northeast, the early part of this week was brutal, weather-wise. Low-to-mid 90s with about 70% humidity. Days you really long for cool October weather. The A/C was on in the apartment but not cranked up to 11, as it was the previous week. No particular reason, so I guess it's my own fault.

Adding insult to heat exhaustion, my wireless router finally crapped the sheets. I was ready to rail against the inadequacies of our modern products 'these days' but I realized that it had done its duty. It must've been four years old, at least. Wireless-B technology (and those of you with wireless know how out-of-date that is). I figure I paid about $150 for the router and adapter. That works out to about 10 cents a day over that time. I'll take that.

But, in any event, I wasn't very pleased with how the evening was going. Well, aside from the delicious meal I had at my favourite Mexican joint earlier... that's always good stuff. Ain't it, lads? You know who I'm talkin' to.

So, Thursday night I stopped and picked up a new MIMO technology router. Took about a half hour to install it. Presto! Back in bidness. And with security encryption, to boot - which I could never quite figure out with my old router.

Now, I'm hooked up again... and it's a refreshing 51 degrees. Hold on! That's ridiculous. It can't be. Sorry, 54 degrees - at least that's what the Weather Channel site says. Wow, that's phenomenal.

On top of that, I stopped to get my mop chopped on my way home from work. I love getting my hair cut. I swear, one of these days I'm going to fall asleep right in the chair. It's so relaxing. I'd pay 15 bucks to go in some place and just have my head massaged for 20 minutes. Love it.

Tonight was a nice treat, too. A lovely, young, cappuccino-skinned lass was at the helm. A nice added bonus.

Not sure if it was a radio station or piped-in music but about half-way through my cut, the song "One More Night" by Phil Collins came on. I immediately pictured myself in a scene from one of those fantastically cheezy Eighties movies with the awful music and entirely improbable scenes where things get exciting, if you know what I mean. It made me laugh to myself, anyway.

As if these simple pleasures weren't enough to enjoy, tonight was the first pre-season game for the Patriots. Not that I put any stock in the games, themselves - they're basically glorified practices - but it does mean that the NFL regular season (and Autumn in New England!) is just around the corner.

There's no better place to be at any time of the year than Autumn in New England. The weather is perfect. The scenery is beautiful. The Pats and Bruins seasons begin... fantastic. And on a related front, the new television series kick in. Although, that's true for anyone, everywhere in the States but it's still something I look forward to at this time of year.

This is also, typically, the season when I pay some attention to my floundering wardrobe and pick up some new duds. Some strange connection to my youth when Mom would take me 'back-to-school' shopping. I know this because I tend to buy new pens around this time - even if I don't need them.

There it is. A small collection of non-sequitors, conveniently packaged for your consumption. Until next time, Cheers.

This and That

2007-07-18T22:44:00.000-04:00

Back in action...

It's been over a month since throwing something down here. Figured I'd try and get back in the swing with a few quick updates.

On the real estate front - not much happening, lately. There has been a relatively steady flow of people coming to check out the house. I'd say an average of one showing per week over the last month or so. Not sure if that can be classified as high volume but it's been consistent, nonetheless.

I also learned that my landlord has dropped the listing price by about 25 G's. That's a 50/50 indication, I think. On one hand, it shows that there haven't been any serious offers on the property. On the other, it means that he's really looking to unload the place. The good thing is, high summer isn't the best time for real estate transactions. So, it doesn't appear that any changes are imminent.

My friend (the one who's been lodging with me for the past few months) took me to take a look at a two-family house that's been in his sights for about 10 months, now. The idea being we go in on it together in one fashion or another. It still seems a bit over-priced in the current market, though. I wasn't too impressed with the property, to be perfectly honest, so I'm not too concerned with it either way.

Another option is for us to grab hold of my current house and do something with it. But the numbers don't look too enticing there, either.

So, it's still a wait-and-see situation for the time being. Fine with me, at this stage.

The other notable bit is my recent vacation I took in Ireland the last week of June. It was a family reunion, of sorts, on my mom's side of my family.

I'd visited Ireland for the first time in May of 2005 and was psyched to be back again. This time, I was with 20 members of my extended family. Aunts, uncles, cousins, cousins' kids... and my parents. It was the first time my parents had been out of the U.S. and I was so happy they were both able to make the trip.

In the past eight years or so, I've been lucky enough to do a decent amount of international travel. To share that experience with my Mom and Dad, on their first trip, was just awesome. My Mom already wants to go back for a golf tour. I hope she's able to do that.

I've signed up for a Flickr account and am currently in the process of posting the 400-plus photos I took while there (closer to 500 but I'm editing out the duplicates and most of the lousy ones)... As soon as I've got everything up, I'll post the link, here. Until then, here are a few sample photos :

Check ya later...

Good Bye, Good Boy

2007-06-12T21:46:00.000-04:00

This is the toughest post I've had to create in my short, non-illustrious, pro-bono career as author of this site.

Last Friday, 8 June 2007, I said, "Good bye" to a good mate of mine for the last time. One of my two pet cats, Buzzard, died after more than 13 years as my furry companion.

I'm not gonna get all sappy about it but I will say that he will be sadly missed. And not only by me. Those who 'knew' him, I believe, truly enjoyed his personality - which could be accurately described as 80% cat, 20% dog. At least that's the way I always looked at him.

There was a point last summer where he was looking uncharacteristically lethargic. After a visit to the vet, it was determined he had diabetes. I was told I would need to administer insulin injections twice a day... and immediately thought, "No way I can do this."

Thankfully, I have a friend who is great with cats and loves them more than anyone else I know. She ensured me it was "no big deal" and encouraged me through the initial period. After a few weeks, I was an old pro and - sure enough - it was "no big deal."

A month, or so, later, he was gaining weight, taking care of his black and white coat, and springing back to life before my eyes. I was thrilled. I think he was, as well.

Fast forward to this spring and his glucose levels were leveling out. About two months ago, I got the word from the vet that the insulin treatment was no longer necessary (of course, this was about two weeks after spending $150 on a tiny bottle of insulin!)

"I'm golden," I thought, as my impending trip to Ireland inched closer by the week. I didn't want to burden my friend with having to deal with the syringes and everything... nor did I want to, if avoidable, spring the cash to board him at the vets so they could take care of it.

However, about a month after that good news, he began losing weight again - and I could tell he wasn't taking good care of his coat, either. I was a bit worried, so during a follow-up visit, I mentioned his weight loss and was told that it was normal after being off the insulin treatments. As explained, it made sense to me.

As the following weeks went on, he appeared to be continuously losing weight and his coat was looking matty. He was shedding like a bastard - and I knew it was abnormal because my other cat had a clean, smooth, shiny coat that was hardly shedding... even after the early hot spells we had this spring (so hot, I was friggin' shedding, for crying out loud).

I called and made an apppointment to bring him in again. Things just didn't seem right with the l'il guy.

He had a severe loss of appetite - my friends that know him can attest, that is about as abnormal as he could get - and he was spending his entire day just sitting/laying up against the wall, under the window in the dining room. Another uncharacteristic trait, as he was always in my face, mewing his silent meow (he always had what seemed like permanent laryngitis - one of his many unique qualities).

This was last Tuesday - a week ago. The bloodwork came back the next day and he was diagnosed with pancreatitis. The urinalysis hadn't come back yet (that would take 5-7 days) but there was also the possibility of a kidney infection and/or UTI (urinary tract infection).

I was worried. Not so much about his health, as I was assured everything was treatable. I was worried about how I was going to manage to get the necessary medication into him on a daily basis. The old cliché about giving a cat a pill... well, it's a cliché for a reason. It ain't easy. Never mind four per day.

But, having gone through the insulin thing last summer and all winter, I was up for the task. Then, after a couple days of flying fur (his) and scratched hands (mine), he just stopped eating altogether. I called the doc and she suggested I bring him in so she could install a 'feeding tube'.

I know what alot of you might be thinking - this is outrageous. If you knew this guy, you'd probably go along with it, like I did.

So, I brought him in on Friday for the operation. Our drive to the vet that afternoon would be the last time I was with him while he was alive.

I got a call at about 7:45 Friday evening and my vet, distraught and crying, told me "we lost him." Due to some complications after the surgery, he was gone.

In no way do I hold the doctor responsible. How could I? After all, she was doing everything she could to get him back in good health. Far more than I could ever have done on my own... by a country mile. It was just an unfortunate event.

I'm gonna miss him all to hell, there's no doubt about that. But he lived a good 13-plus years. And not a day went by that he didn't manage to put a smile on my face in some way - even on my darkest days. He was the best. I'll remember him always.

Good Bye, Good Boy.

Whoa - That Was Fast.

2007-05-24T00:32:00.000-04:00

It's been about a month, now, since the last post in the 'real estate' series.

Not much has changed on my end. However, my landlord officially put the house on the market this past weekend. Friday evening or Saturday, I believe.

To my amazement, last night (Tuesday) was the first showing. There's already a second one scheduled for tomorrow night (Thursday, which is tonight really). That's two within five days. I have to say it's a great piece of property but I'm still a bit surprised at the quick response.

My friend who's been boarding here for the past few months is in the real estate biz, to some extent - and he caught it in the MLS listings this weekend. Apparently, it's one of the higher priced multi-family properties in town. Yet, still, two quick showings in less than a week. Interesting, to say the least.

There's not really much more to add at this stage. I guess I just wasn't expecting this level of activity this early on.

So all those initial fears I had have come flooding back after a month of relative calmness. It's not a bad thing. Definitely good motivation to keep me on my toes.

With all this, I'm now even more grateful for the upcoming holiday weekend. It should be a good opportunity to spend a few solid days going through the inventory and cleaning house. I'm actually looking forward to it.

Besides that, it should be a good weekend to continue my latest flurry of reading - and plowing through a couple of Netflix viewings, to boot.

On tap for entertainment this weekend are a couple DVDs and one of two books I just got in the mail : The Wedding Crashers and Blue Car (DVDs) and Alice Cooper - Golf Monster (book).

The other book is I'll Sleep When I'm Dead - The Dirty Life and Times of Warren Zevon. That one will be pushed back in the queue a bit, though. I've a few others to get to before that. The Alice Cooper one is short (~250 pages), so that'll be a quickie.

I can't wait to read it because Alice Cooper is a riot. You may find that surprising if you've never paid much attention to him - but he really is.

So, that's it for the time being. Enjoy the Memorial Day weekend... and please take some time to remember those that have passed before us.

The Adventures of Coma Girl and the Excitement Gang

2007-05-08T00:06:00.000-04:00

Admittedly, I arrived at the greatness of The Clash a long while after they were 'new' to the scene. Years, a decade or more, later.

That's not totally true. I did own a cassette version of Combat Rock when it came out. But I'll fully admit ignorance to (most) anything they'd done prior to that "MTV" record in 1983. Give me a break; I was 13.

That doesn't diminish their influence on me and the esteem to which I hold them as a band. A pillar, an essential of Rock and Roll. One of, if not my favorite, artists of all time.

Unquestionable.

You may or may not like The Clash. And that's fine. But I'm willing to bet that more than one or two post-punk era bands you enjoy, did. No, not bet. Guarantee.

I can't get into a whole Clash history here - but I have to give a nod to my man. Joe Strummer.

Back a few years ago, I'd heard that he was touring with his own band - The Mescaleros. I decided I didn't have the time to go to the show, and missed it. A while later, he died.

My bad. I should have gone to see him live when I had the chance.

This isn't some sappy "now that you're gone" retrospect. I've been listening to Streetcore in my car, recently, and realized that his talent and influence have been wildly overlooked - or underappreciated.

Joe Strummer was a master lyricist. His songs filled with words making up part of the instrumentation. Check out Beck and Anthony Kedis as those who, I'm not shy in suggesting, were influenced by him. I have no proof - but I'm sure a 50/50 bet would score.

There's lots to say about this guy that I don't have the time for right now... but after the past week, listening (again) to his voice, his lyrics, and the way Streetcore was finished after Joe's passing that makes me confident in my assessment.

Joe Strummer is a man that can not be overlooked when reviewing the history of Rock.

There may be more detail here in the future.. Until then, just remember his name.

Wot's all this, then?

2007-05-02T23:16:00.000-04:00

For a few months now, I've noticed something while walking from my car in the office parking lot to my building. Then again, on my way back to my car at the end of the day. It is something on the ground and it's remained there for all this time. It must've been scraped up by the plows over the winter but it hasn't disappeared with the fairer weather.

It's a patch of the paint, or whatever it is, they use to coat the lot.

There are bits and pieces of it everywhere but this one caught my eye due to its size - and it's conspicuous shape.

After the first couple times I saw it, it dawned on me. It looked like the United Kingdom.

This morning on my way in, I decided to snap a photo of it for perusal here.

Turns out it was a good incentive to find a new FTP program to upload files, too. I needed something on my laptop I could use to transfer files to my remote storage site. I found what appears to be a good program for doing that. Much improved over my utility I have on my pc.

Anyway, here's a map of the UK I've borrowed from a website ::

Here's the photo I snagged this morning. Granted, it's not a precise replica of the actual island - but I think it's close enough ::

I wonder if anyone else has noticed the similarities.

Cheers.

Where the Rubber Meets the Road

2007-05-01T00:51:00.000-04:00

Yeah, so,

before I get into it, let me just say, I love the Moss move by the Pats. it's a no-lose deal. he kicks ass, he kicks ass. he drags ass, he's out on his ass. it's that simple. and after seeing some footage and hearing some commentary - i'm looking forward to the Belichick Moss Experiment. very excited.

but the point is i am so psyched with my new tires. finally got the Jeep in for an appointment. man, wish i had done it sooner.

my tires were so bad, the whole car would shake something fierce as soon as i hit 55-63 mph. yah, it was that specific. uncontrollable to the point that, it's time. like, within the week.

so, i was just gonna get a replacement of the exact tire that came on the car from the factory. the guy at the shop tells me there's another tire, cheaper, and 'better' i could also get. couple questions answered to my satisfaction later, i'm in.

four new yokohama geolandar a/t-s tires.

driving out of that place was unbelievable. it was the smoothest ride i'd ever had in that car. at least that i could remember. the old tires had 62K+ miles on 'em. five an' a half years... so, could be that the original drives were as smooth.

i dunno... it felt like ridin' on butter - but with complete control. like there was some kinda fin coming out the undercarriage of it, stickin' into an invisible track on the road. like i was in one of those electric, trigger-controlled toy racecar things i had as a kid. but better controlled.

and i know the shopkeeper is supposed to keep you happy. make sure you think you're happy with your purchase. but two different guys commented to the like of, "hey... that's a good tire." something like that.

but something about the way they said it. i believed them. and that first and second drive on those things... can't wait to drive to work tomorrow. can't wait for some rain. can't wait for some snow. i'm dyin' to check these things out.

the smoothness, though. it's unbelievable. oh, brian. those ears. how do you? they're so soft. they're like dog ears.

that's kinda what they feel like. family guy people will know what i'm saying. others may not.

all i'm sayin' is, these new tires were worth every dime. the Jeep feels higher, like it was when i first got it, and sturdier, ditto. never underestimate the contribution of a good tire. on any vehicle.

I Just Threw Out A Bunch Of Softballs This Morning, Would You Like A Few ESPN?

2007-04-22T23:20:00.000-04:00

ESPN really sucks.

Jon Miller and Joe Morgan for the Red Sox/Yankees game.

Guys? It's 2007! Get with it.

The generic, patently insincere announcement of this game is disappointing. I understand the 'national' appeal of this match-up. I just don't understand how a network that claims to be the 'World Wide Leader' in sports coverage would allow such a dead-boring, unexcitable, incompetent, and down-right repulsive (in the sense that they turn you away from wanting to listen) pair of commentators to do this game!?

Honestly.

It's like listenting to my friggin' uncle talking about all the guys on his high school hockey team. Yeah, it's factual - but do I give a shit?

{well, yeah, in that case I do.. 'cuz that's my uncle. and it's a cool story. but you obviously see my point. it's like hearing one of these stories - as the commentary for an entire game. See what I mean?}

Fuck Tenure. These guys are so out of touch, I feel like tomorrow's my first day of Little League practice.

Especially now... with Papelbon looking to shut it down, 7-6 Sox. It sounds like they're describing a fishing show. Unacceptable.

Just the Facts, Ma'am

2007-04-22T19:33:00.000-04:00

As hinted at a bit more than a week ago, here's an update on the real estate situation...

After a week of casual research, it's becoming more clear that if I'm going to buy something it's not likely to be a single-family, detached dwelling. It's not completely out of the equation but it's on the remote edge of what's possible at this point. Never say never - but let's be realistic, shall we? And isn't that the best way to view the world, with a heavy dose of realism? Particularly when it involves money. As they say, it doesn't grow on trees. Trust me, I've been looking at alot of trees, lately. There's nothing there.

So, with that, my mental net has been re-cast a bit. Now I have to decide if I'm willing to go short and get into some sort of condo/townhouse situation. Way back when, I lived in a townhouse with an ex-girlfriend. It was a two-bedroom, 1-1/2 bath, with access to an attic and an unfinished basement. It wasn't bad. The worst I recall of it was the electric bill - as the heating system was all electric. Well, that was the worst of it, technically. Personally, it was a terrible nightmare it turns out.

Though, every grey cloud... so, that's rule #1 for me if I'm going into something like that... I won't buy anything with electric-based heating. Not in New England.

There are a few other 'must-haves' (at least right now they're 'must-haves') I'd prefer to have before I venture back into something like that.

I don't want 100 neighbors. I can't set a maximum limit right now because I haven't even seen what's out there, yet. I just know that I'd rather a small group. Better yet, a simple, stand-alone duplex, before a giant 100-unit complex.

I want limited - or no - restrictions on what I can do for interior alterations. If the outside is going to be somewhat generic and nondescript, I'd like the option to alter the inside to suit my individual taste. More on this, later.

I'd prefer an end unit, if possible. Always better to have only one neighbor sharing a wall than being sandwiched in between two.

Definitely need an external entrance. I'm not sure I could handle one of those places that the first entrance to the unit is through a shared main entrance. Not too fond of the shared hallway with hotel-like doors to the unit. Again, never say never... but this would definitely be last-on-the-list material. Especially if I'm buying it.

In-unit washer/dryer hook-ups. No question.

{side note : ESPN sucks. I've got the Red Sox game on and Matsuzaka is pitching in the first. They're playing the Yankees. These announcers blow. The old dude just refered to the 'gyro ball'... Everyone, by this point, knows it's absolute rubbish. There is no such thing. Yet, there it was. Pathetic. Give me Jerry Remy and Don Orsillo... PLEASE!! This is going to be painful to watch. I may not make it through the entire game.}

I'd like a garage, if possible. More likely in a duplex but I've seen some condo/townhouse places that have single-car garages. That'd be sweet.

There's sure to be more but, at this point, the only other criterion I'm looking for is the commute-value ratio. Basically, that's the trade off between how close the place is to where I work against the quality of the unit. For example, I'd gladly give up 10-20 minutes of commuting time for a newer place that satisfies more of my wants than take a beat-down place in a lousy location that's closer to where I work.

Now to address the aforementioned ability to alter the interior to my taste. I don't claim to be a professional decorator by any stretch of the imagination... but some of the photos I've seen of the interior of houses for sale are, to be put plainly, astonishing. Not in a good way. What is wrong with these people!?

I understand styles change with the times - but I'm not even talking about 'dated' interiors. Some of the decor I've witnessed can't be described as anything better than hideous. Especially rooms 'designed' for children. Whoo! These poor kids. I fear they'll be scarred for life by the garish surroundings they're forced to live in.

Suffice to say, I'm well aware that no matter what, if anything, I end up with - my best tools will be a phalanx of good scrapers and paintbrushes. At the same time, I won't let a visciously disgusting pink second bedroom dissuade me from an otherwise promising place.

{Holy shit : Manny, JD Drew, Mike Lowell, and Varitek just smashed back-to-back-to-back-to-back solo ding-dongs to take a 4-3 lead after trailing 3-0. Un-frickin-believable!! If Wily Mo Pena knocks one out... I might jump out a window. Nope, he K'd. I'm safe.}

That's the up-to-date at this point. It might take me a while to settle into this type of market but it seems to be the best way to go from here. Hey, I've been where I am know for 8.5 years (which seems like 5), so 3-4 years in a townhouse should be a breeze...

Time Ain't On My Side

2007-04-13T21:17:00.000-04:00

Whoa... I've been itchin' to create a post lately and when I checked in today, I was shocked to see that my last one was almost a month ago. I know, I know. If you read the nonsense I put in this blog - and I know you don't - there have been much more vast expanses of post-free wasteland before in this space.

Guilty as charged. I was more surprised by how quickly the time has passed, not by my typically sporadic pace. That's pretty much been the only consistency here. Sporadicalness.

In my mindframe, this is all happening a week and a half ago.

I'm not sure if Albert Einstein tinkered with this phenomenon while pondering traveling alongside a light beam and who would be moving faster in time - him or the guy watching him... (turns out, it's the guy watching him) but had he worked a bit longer on the problem, I'm convinced he'd have proven the ol' notion that as we get older, time seems to take less time to happen than it did in the past. At least relative to each of us, individually.

What we know as a 'week' seems to take more like four or five days. It's nuts. Not sure I want to think about this much further. Time does move faster as we get older. I'll take it as fact on faith... that way you can't refute it. After all, it's faith. Isn't that more accurate than fact? Silly question. Of course it is.

This is unfortunate for me, however. Recently, my landlord told me that he will be putting the house I live in up for sale at the end of the month. There's no guarantee it will sell - and he informed me that if he doesn't get what he considers a decent price, he may not sell it. The unfortunate part is that I have no idea if anyone will buy it or not. Nor do I have any guarantee that, if it does sell, the new owner will allow me to stay or not. So, in essence, I'm running out of time.

I don't want to get stuck with only a month's notice before I need to vacate and relocate. But if I do need to relocate, maybe I should start thinking about purchasing a place. Problem is, I wasn't expecting this and I don't know whether or not I have the appropriate means to buy something... something other than a dilapitated shack an hour and a half away from my job, that is.

Granted, I've been living here for 8.5 years at this point - so, yes, perhaps I should've been considering this a while ago. But as Einstein would've proved if he had taken up the challenge, and I've confirmed on faith, a while ago wasn't really that long ago. Unless you're six. In that case, it would have been a really, really long while ago. I'm not six.

What's the plan? That's the question I'm sure you're all asking yourselves about now. That, or, why am I reading this rubbish? Can't answer that last one for you. The plan, however, is fairly straightforward. It'll never pan out this way, for sure. But it's always better to have a plan than not.

Part one : throw everything out. All non-essential items must go. Typically, I try to recycle whatever I can. Right now, I'm not sure I have the time for that. I'll make an effort but can't promise anything. I just don't want to get blindsided and pack up a bunch of trash just to move it to wherever it is I might be headed... and then throw it out then. Nope. It's all going.

Part two : sock away some cash. Doubtful I'll be able to manage a 20% downpayment by the end of the summer - but there's no time like the present. That means no more pedicures; no more filet mignon; no more weekend trips to the Louvre.

Part three : keep an eye on the real estate situation. Easier said than done. Luckily for me, there's some lame-ass local election going on around here. I'm sure I'll rear-end some poor, unsuspecting motorist as I drive around trying to distinguish the campaign signs cluttering lawns from For Sale signs. Excellent. As if these nitwit politicians haven't been pissing me off enough, lately.

Part four : expect the unexpected. A ridiculous notion, for sure. The idea is to remember to take everything in stride. I think that's the point of that cliché.

So there it is. The perfect plan.

Who knows? If you're unlucky enough, I may feel compelled to unload more of this drivel into this undoubtably irresistable blog. If I can find the time.

Happy St. Kratos Day

2007-03-16T20:11:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day - and I couldn't be more excited about it. I've been counting down the days, as have a few of my friends.

While I will be enjoying my fair share of Guinness, that's simply a coincidence. More of a nod to the holiday (and the fact that Guinness is the best of all beers), really.

We won't be spending the day at an over-crowded pub, fighting for elbow room, and dodging the vomit in the Gents with the 'amateurs' that hijack the day. We'll be enjoying it in the comfort of my friend's house playing a video game.

Lame, you suggest? On the contrary.

The game is God of War II. The sequel to the best video game ever created, God of War.

I don't play a ton of video games. When I do play them, it's mostly sport games, notably hockey and golf. I've tried other adventure and war style games but I'm never really good (or patient) enough to get more than half way through them. They eventually become too difficult or I get distracted and don't play them for months... then have no burning desire to continue them.

God of War is the first game that hooked me so strongly that I was determined to finish the entire thing. Not only was it tremendously fun to play - the accompanying story line that goes along with it is so well developed, you're forced to finish the game to see how the story ends. It's that compelling.

I can't get into the whole thing in detail but it is based in Greek Mythology, with all its requisite creatures - Cyclops, Minotaurs, Hydras, and the like - and a heaping helping of Greek Gods - Zeus, Athena, and, of course Aries... the God of War, himself. He's the bastard you have to kill at the end to claim victory. And when you do that, you - Kratos - become the God of War, yourself.

This is where God of War II picks up. Kratos is the new God of War and I'm dying to find out what's in store for him. Can't wait to see what new creatures we'll have to destroy. Can't wait to find out what puzzles we'll need to solve. Can't wait to get sucked into the story. It's like playing a movie, is what it is. That's the best way to describe it. It's a movie that only continues when you progress through the game.

Yes, I know I'm thirty-six years old and that may seem a bit old to be playing video games. But I grew up playing them and it's still a great source of entertainment for me. Some may think thirty-six is a bit old to be playing video games... but, I suppose, it's probably too old to be out at a pub, surrounded by a bunch of drunk, annoying amateurs, too.

I'd rather be soaked in video game blood than some punk's vomit.

Our troubled hero, Kratos :

Our troubled hero, Kratos, kicking ass :

See you tomorrow, St. Kratos.

A Man You Don't Meet Everyday

2007-03-05T22:52:00.000-05:00

It is damn cold out!

Not kidding. The 'experts'* say it's a cool 24 (fahrenheit) but it 'feels like' 12 (f). Pissah. And tomorrow's supposed to be that much colder.

I love it. This is what winter is supposed to be.

Much too late, this year, for my liking but it's good to see the Old Man rear his head. It's good to be cold... for a few days at a time. Thank you, New England.

So, I don't know if it's the cold or that I have my new laptop plugged into my receiver, coming through my system. Maybe it's both. Could be, it's neither.

Something tells me it's that I've finally been able to connect my 'on-line' music to my 'old-school' listening medium - the stereo. Sounds stupid. I know. It's not.

I'm not in possession of the most state-of-the-art audio paraphenalia; a sturdy receiver and some good speakers work for me. And that's how I want to listen to these songs. Like bringing home those CDs, ten years ago, and popping them into the CD player. Earphones don't cut it. The sound has got to fill the room... this setup makes that happen. It's awesome.

(claiming this blog won't become entirely music-centric, here's a quick 'get-to-the-point' interjection)

I guess the entire point of this post was the song A Man You Don't Meet Everyday by The Pogues.

Obviously written with a male protagonist bent, Cáit O'Riordan takes this song and owns it. Her smoky, Irish voice is killer. Jack Stewart could ever be so lucky.

Oh my name is Jack Stewart
I'm a canny gun man
And a roving young fellow
I have been

So be easy and free
When you're drinking with me
I'm a man you don't meet
Everyday

I have acres of land
I have men I command
I have always a shilling
To spare

So be easy and free
When you're drinking with me
I'm a man you don't meet
Everyday

So come fill up your glasses
Of brandy and wine
Whatever it costs
I will pay

So be easy and free
When you're drinking with me
I'm a man you don't meet
Everyday

I took out my dog
And him I did shoot
Oh, down in the County
Kildare

So be easy and free
When you're drinking with me
I'm a man you don't meet
Everyday

So come fill up your glasses
On brandy and wine
Whatever it costs
I will pay

So be easy and free
When you're drinking with me
I'm a man you don't meet
Everyday

So be easy and free
When you're drinking with me
I'm a man you don't meet
Everyday

Your challenge, now, is... YES! You guessed it! Go find this fucking song and listen to it fourteen times.

I wouldn't have bothered to include the lyrics if it's not worth it. Believe me - it's worth it. As proven by my including the lyrics. That was pretty pointless. But you get the point.

I'm telling you. Track down and give a listen to : The Pogues - A Man You Don't Meet Everyday.

Thank me later.

*The 'experts' indicated here are the folks at The Weather Channel - In my opinion, a better option for accurate forecasting.

You Don't Know What You Been a Missin'

2007-03-03T23:41:00.000-05:00

Oh Boy !

It's not exactly clear how I stumbled upon this guy. I've known his name as long as I've been aware of music. Some of his 'Greatest Hits' are inavoidably recognizable - more than a few have been adopted as marketing regulars, only the words changed... to better convince you that this is the product for you.

Now I know why.

Buddy Holly.

Now. I am just beginning to understand the fuss.

Any time there's some article or television special on the 'History of Rock 'n Roll' - Buddy Holly is somehow involved. As he damn well should be.

I admit, I haven't listened to every song he's ever sung. My sample is fairly small and I'm not well informed on his history. But I gotta say... from the shit I've sampled? Buddy Holly is the real deal. It actually gets my proverbial goat that I haven't been listening to him sooner than now.

His voice is quintessentially unique. And his guitar sound is arguably in that same description. Together, the combination of those two elements, undeniably unstoppable.

I don't have enough insight at this point in my Buddy Holly experience to drench you in facts, persuasions, or lost classics - I just know that this music has managed to live on for fifty-whatever years... and remain relevant. Hell! It blows away most of the crap that's being forced through the radio today.

If you've got access to music download software, a few quick sample suggestions would be :

Down The Line
Not Fade Away
Blue Days, Black Nights
Oh Boy!
Crying, Waiting, Hoping
Rave On
Peggy Sue

And a few of those I'm sure we've all heard some version of :

Everyday
That'll Be The Day
It's So Easy

(and if you don't have access to download, just check out some compilation CDs at your favourite record shop)

There are more but this is a good primer to get a nice audial glimpse of what this beast could do.

I can't claim that Buddy Holly is the best. I can, with absolute conviction, claim that he is one of the best. His unique style, undoubtedly, has influenced many a musician. Music lovers everywhere should be grateful.

All of my love
All of my kissin'
You don't know
What you been a missin'
Oh boy !

Audio vs. Video :: Which Wins?

2007-02-22T01:55:00.000-05:00

My guess is most people will automatically assume the 'winner' in this contest. Well, if you put your chips on the big "V" - sorry to say... House wins. "A" all the way.

Audio is still the ultimate medium to convey any important issue. Or any issue, for that matter. Actually, it's really just so much more portable and applicable than video... sound is awesome.

Recently, I had a few of me best mates at mine after a great dinner at the Mint Cafe downtown. Instead of flicking on the tube we conversed and listened to some tunes ... courtesy of my beautiful new laptop, thank you very much.

It was pretty cool. Something about listening to a song as opposed to watching a video. With a song, your mind is able to make up its own visuals for the sound and music it's hearing... with a video, it's spoonfed - the visual has already been decided by someone(s)...

Proof positive is my audience right now. If I was simply watching the tube (and nothing wrong with that), I'm not sure both of the felines that share my living space would be chillin' out with me. I think they enjoy the audio over both the audio and the video (a.k.a. the Television).

I've no scientific evidence to back that up but I'm still convinced.

There's always that conversation about whatever happened 3, 4, 8, X years ago and no one's sure exactly what happened - but everyone can verify that they can place the exact song that they'd heard when it happened.

And there's something about hearing a song for the first time... or hearing an old song after a long time... that just beats the pants off watching something.

So.

Go find an old CD, record, tape, whatever... Pop it in and give it a good listen.

You won't be disappointed

And Now For Something Completely Different

2007-02-10T22:52:00.001-05:00

Warning :: Do NOT listen to Ca Plane Pour Moi by Plastic Bertrand while reading this.

My last post, I realize, was a bit on the harsh side of things. Then I realized, alot of my latest posts have been me wingein' about this or that. While I stand by everything written here - and will continue to randomly vent on issues that sour my milk - I don't want this space to become nothing more than my soapbox to air ills...

So I figured I'd start off here with a few 'uplifting' topics of interest. Nothing so exciting in regards to the general public, I'll admit. But at least I'm not bitchin' and moanin' about something. Be thankful for that. F'Christ, I am.

First up - and I have no idea how many items I'll touch on - is the topic of what was supposed to be the focus of the previous post... My new laptop. It arrived on Monday afternoon and I haven't gotten it entirely broken in but so far - it's been awesome...

Re-entering passwords, accepting Liscence Agreements, and dealing with the imbedded product onslaught is, admittedly, a bit of a pain.

(yeah... bit of a winge there)

Being able to write this post, have a window open showing the live scoring of my Fantasy Hockey game, and watch the Atlanta @ Vancouver game (via the Hockey Night in Canada broadcast, no less) all at the same time? Well, it's well worth the minor hassles. I can say that with certainty.

Aside from the added hassle of having to listen to and watch Kelly Hrudey during intermission... not... a big fan.

These laptops, though, are phenomenal... That's what I'm saying. Gotta figure out how to get the audio output into my stereo receiver next. But - top marks all around for the laptop and the wireless era in general. Sweet stuff...

!-------------------------------------------------------------------!

The wicker basket of globules and baubels of positivity sits here at my ankles. Time is no accomplice in getting each recognized, however. In haste, a few notes I will publish. All the while, ditch this odd sentence structure and ridiculous vocabulary.

My Napster is friggin' awesome! I wish sometimes, everyone could be hearing the songs that I'm hearing. It'd be ridiculous.

And then add the songs other people tell me about. And listen to those ones, too.

I'd be happy. 'Cuz it'd be a bunch of the songs I dig... and a few pretty good tunes that people suggest... but I think people would (should) like them. If they don't, that's okay... but Opera won't live forever.

All I know is I've got a pretty decent resource here.

I wish I had an evil twin.

Unwarning :: You may now listen to Ca Plane Pour Moi by Plastic Bertrand at your leisure.

I Knew It.

2007-02-08T02:00:00.000-05:00

right. this is gonna be short 'n sour...

well, we'll see ? how short. those that know me know I tend to go a little long. but i'll try to keep it concise.

this new Google blogger hosting sucks cock. Yep. It definitely does.

I'm willing to overlook the fact that I was absolutely, undeniably railroaded into accepting the 'takeover' of Blogspot by Google. I'm fine with that. I fully regret it at this moment... but I'm fine with that. I'm a programmer by trade and I know certain things just need to happen. However, I don't understand why applications revert. Why would a function be removed after a so-called 'upgrade'?

Don't disable options that I've had up to this point!! Especially when it's not your company to begin with! You used your power to overtake a smaller company that did the job better. And screwed it up. How is that good business? The Google name will forever be tarnished in my mind. Wake up, friggin' morons...

No longer can I represent any other verbal characters outside of the 26 simple letters that make up the - what? American alphabet? Fuckin' 'ell...

All of my previously displayed characters from outside 'American alphabet' characters have been absolutely mauled in this conversion process. This, after one of the conversion screens assured me that 'all previous blogs will be unaffected' (i paraphrase)...

Excuse me!? If the stuff I had posted 19 minutes ago looks different from what it looks like now, after I've 'upgraded' ?? Screw that... Horrible programming. You can't even support standard ASCII code keys in your conversion.

Yeah.

That's it.

Fuck everyone else that actually has a different alphabet than 'us'... who needs 'em?

So, please forgive me if there are unintelligible or non-sensical characters on this page. They used to be perfectly readable. Until the geniuses at Google took over.

Yeah. I'll take all the snide remarks about how to use those characters - and, 'give them a chance', and, 'don't you have anything else to be bitchin' about'...

But think about it. Google fucked up. Plain and simple. It should have been seemless... and it was anything but.

p.s. the original title to this post was 'always go with your first instinct' - which was to not upgrade... but i had to change it after finishing this post.

Smaht'n Up !

2007-01-23T00:21:00.000-05:00

Here's the deal... I enjoy a Large Turbo Ice of varied flavour from Dunkin Donuts on a somewhat recurrent schedule. Enough to pick up on certain... patterns, I guess I'll say.

There's this one guy in my town that has a handicap plate, or placard for the rear-view, or something. Basically, it's his ticket to douche-dom.

Before you're all over me for insensitvity, and that, hear me out.

This guy can walk, as far as I can tell, perfectly well. He's the guy that tells you his medical history while in line for a coffee... and then sits down and does Find-A-Word puzzles for hours on end.

And this is all while his car - adorned with the aforementioned 'golden key' - sits idle in the only handicap parking spot in the entire lot.

While plenty of parking spots remain free.

I just think - how's a guy with a handicap issue car assisting any other handicap patrons, if his car is parked in the lone handicap spot in the lot while he sits inside and does Find-A-Word puzzles for hours on end?

Your answer? He's not.

He is not assisting anyone. Aside from himself.

Awwww... this is killin' me. Okay. I'm ready.

Hey. Handicapusurper... Get a clue.

What's it all about?

2006-12-21T00:54:00.000-05:00

Oh, bring us a figgy pudding
Oh, bring us a figgy pudding
Oh, bring us a figgy pudding and a cup of good cheer

Good tidings we bring to you and your kin
Good tidings for Christmas and a Happy New Year

We won't go until we get some
We won't go until we get some
We won't go until we get some, so bring some out here

Good tidings we bring to you and your kin
Good tidings for Christmas and a Happy New Year

... A stanza that is often overlooked

So... Happy Christmas.

'Twas a Fine Evening...

2006-11-17T00:37:00.000-05:00

Tonight was one of those cool nights that comes along from now and then. I don't mean cool in the sense of the weather. Far from it. Fucking sucks out, right now.

As for 16 November in New England - it was hot ! Sunt'in like, close to 70... Fahrenheit... Degrees... In downtown Boston?! Whaaaat? Way too warm for me, thanks... Uncalled for, in my opinion. I should,at least, be able to wear a sweater without worrying about my balls sweating.

I wasn't wearing a sweater tonight. I'm just putting the claim in, now. Fucking, 16 November and I don't need a jacket? Fuck you, ice age. How I got stuck in this period... nevermind. Curse you, autonomous, geothermic cycles !!

The cool bit has to do with everything despite the weather.

Earlier this fall, a couple of me finest mates and I invested in a 10-game ticket pak for the Bruins. It's my team - and I'm stickin' with 'em. Tonight we were at the game (#2 of 10) to watch them take on division peers Toronto. A right dust up, yeah. Just ask the loads of folks from Toronto that were there...

After the B's managed to escape with a shoot-out win over the Caps in D.C. last night, hopes of stretching the streak to three (the first being a sweet 4-3 W over Ottawa last Sat. night) were limited at best, I would say.

Nonetheless, the Bruins grabbed one (Kessel - (PP) 14:09 Boyes, Mara) early in the first and then tightened things down for the next 26 minutes, or so. You could argue, 40, as they carried their strong defensive stance half way through the third.

A suspect Holding call on Marc Savard more than half way through the third gave the Leafs a power play that they were able to exploit in under 5 seconds. Three seconds into their PP, McCabe pushed one in (McCabe - (PP) 13:18 Wellwood) to tie it, right off a face off in our zone.

Something felt different, though. There wasn't any immediate sense of doom. It wasn't like the collapse we had witnessed two weeks ago - when we were at 'the game'. Yeah, the game the B's were up 4-1 with about eight minutes remaining in the third ... and lost in an overtime shoot-out. Yep. We were at that game. Game #1 of our 10 game pak. Brilliant. This is what we're in for...

No. Overtime came as an ill-advised but, yet, not unwelcome guest. There's always hope in overtime. There's always hope in a hockey game. At least when the score's this close, that is. Overtime guarantees you that. Underlying rule in hockey (and all sports, for that matter in these instances) - last score wins.

And sure enough - our good patience was rewarded. L'enfant de la ville du Québec - Monsieur Patrice Bergeron - pots one; 34 seconds into the extra period... Bruins win. Job done. It was awesome.

So, my mates and I are jazzed up with the win and head for some sweet nachos and a couple post-game, craft brews at a local establishment. Discussion of the game and state of the B's prevails. It's fantastic. Eight more to go...

Okay - Hockey Talk over. Next best thing of the night is the random CD playing in my car on the way home. Drop me mate off to pick up his ride and I'm on my way home. With an old mix-CD I made, back when downloading was free and you could find any and everything.

My drive soundtrack was tremendous ::

> Michael Jackson - Beat It
> Avril Levigne - Sk8ter Boy
> Russian National Anthem - Red Army Choir
> Metro - Berlin

Yep. That was it. Pretty much the perfect soundtrack to a perfect night.

Seems odd, at first glance, I'm sure. Trust me... after the game - and where this CD came from - perfeck. In fact, I just loaded this up, now. Give me something to listen to while I finish this post.

Once I'm home, I gotta feed the kitties. Not that they really need it but... Anyway, the 'dinner' goes into the bowl and the creatures feast. Odd, that I have small mammals living in my dwelling with me... can barely keep meself alive.

Here are a few quick pics of dinner ::

So, there's the last of this fine evening... I feed the small mammals living in my shelter and get to entering this post. All is well. Takk fyrir komuna (thanks for coming)...

(thanks much to Andy's Icelandic Assistant site - which is where the above link takes you. Check it out if you're interested in some Icelandic... I'm fascinated with it, currently, and doing everything I can to learn. Thanks Andy.)

Góða kvöldið

2006-11-08T02:14:00.000-05:00

Góða nótt.

Takk fyrir spjallið.

I'm Calling Shenanigans !!

2006-11-08T01:13:00.000-05:00

I'm just flipping around TV channels tonight, after a nice W at darts, and I come across some Maxim Top 100 shit on VH1...

First person I see is Gabrielle Union.

They've got her pegged at something like, forty-three? forty-four? Out of a hundred!? Stop right there. Bull. Shit.

As far as I'm concerned? That's the end of the countdown. Show. Over. Why even press forward towards the so-called number one?

What's the point of moving on? Chick - Is - Smokin'! - Any further 'ranking' is entirely vestigial and suspect. Trust me.

Who pays these people?

Celebrity Death Watch

2006-09-18T23:29:00.000-04:00

It's interesting that we, as the general public, are often taken by surprise when there is a tragic death of a celebrity who's considered to be 'on the rise'. Or even a well-healed entertainer. One that's been around a bit. Who's paid his dues. People who are recognized by millions, for no other reason than their profession requires them to be seen or heard, by as many people as possible, in order to be successful at what they do for a living.

Why are we always so shocked at these untimely deaths? Maybe not, I suppose, so much their untimeliness but that they occur, at all.

Belushi. Farley. Phoenix. Hendrix.

It must be a brutal existence, being a 'celebrity'. The pressure to remain merely relevant, never mind on top, has got to be immense.

So, I'm surprised that we're so surprised when someone in this line of work is 'taken away' from us. So they say. Typically with the phrase 'in their prime' attached to it.

I'm not saying it's not unfortunate or we shouldn't lament these losses. Quite the contrary, in fact. I think we can stop them. Honestly.

If you look at the lifestyle and actions of the aforementioned celebrities, don't you think that there were some tell-tale signs that things were going awry?

We should be more aware and active in preserving the lives of our celebrities. And as a first step to aiding our celebrity brethren in staying alive, I'm asking you all to focus on the next tragedy waiting to happen.

We need to save... Racheal Ray.

I'm serious. This chick is flying off the rails right now.

She's gone from a simple show on Food Network a few years ago to multiple shows on Food Network and an upcoming day-time network show. Three shows. One involving some serious travel. All at the same time. What's keeping her going?

A schedule like that can't be sustained by sheer commitment. Someone's got to step in and slow her down. She's doomed.

I saw an advertisement for her new day-time show the other day and that's when this idea hit me. There was a short clip of an upcoming episode and she was standing behind a studio kitchen, spatula - or some other utensil - raised high in the air, and maniacally screaming, "A Seven! Minute! Meal!"

It was startling. It was frighteningly reminiscent of the classic 'Mr. Tarkanian - Tyranical Boss' sketch on SNL. The one where Will Ferrel plays Mr. Tarkanian, a real bastard of a boss who isn't shy on laying down the physical and mental abuse necessary to run a good ship. Being the fourth ranked Airplane publication isn't easy.

Racheal Ray reminded me of Chris Parnell's character. The guy who comes bolting into the office in sweat-stained tatters wielding a trident... Confronting the evil Mr. Tarkanian... And challenging him by screaming, "I've been lifting weights and doing cocaine all day!!"

Only to have Mr. Tarkanian stand up, wrest the trident from his hand, and fall victim to blow after blow from it at the hands of his almighty boss. Really. Blow after blow after blow after blow... Easily 30 or 40 strikes. It's tremendous theatre. Especially when Mr. Tarkanian finally turns around and is absolutely drenched in only the fakest of fake 'hollywood' blood. Highest of comedy.

But that's the lesson we know. And that's the lesson we need to pass on to our unwitting celebrities. Don't let Mr. Tarkanian repeatedly stab you with your own trident.

Racheal Ray's in the weight room right now. Alternating 300-pound dead lifts and squats with 1/2 inch wide, pencil-length lines of coke... We've got to save her.

Repetitiveness n'est pas Entitlement

2006-09-08T01:42:00.000-04:00

There's this old guy. Well - older guy that seems to hit the Dunkin Donuts at some point in the morning. Gets his stuff... then sits in his vehicle, presumably finishes his stuff, and then reads the newspaper. Apparently, the whole fucking thing. Top Headline to final Hyundai offering.

I've seen him there on multi-occasions. Weekdays. Weekends. Weekwhatevers. No worries. Until this morning.

It's a busy enough parking lot, especially with the quick nature of the business. So, you want to see things work out right - quick, efficient, & unabrasive. In and out. Make room for the next junkie.

Why, oh why, would you then take your vehicle and park it right over those freshly painted PARK HERE lines that are, fairly, de rigeur of all parking lots we solicit? How can you not see these demarcations and - maybe because your car is so much cooler than everyone else's - take over two parking spaces with such poor parking? Or, according to you, advantageous parking. Douche.

They paint slots... so, use the slots!

I don't care if you've been comin' there a day - or a month's worth of Sundays. Fuck. Me. Get your stupid Toyota Rav4, or whatever that thing is, the fuck out of the way. No way in hell that thing is wider than a parking slot! Prove it, Numb-Nuts. Or straighten it out. Douche.

Dean's Dream

2006-08-25T02:18:00.000-04:00

(edited to add post title and link)

It's been a while.

It's been quite the while, actually.

Me Guinness For Strength was on its last ring of foam. You know, the one next to the last one in the pint. That's where she was. And if you've never enjoyed a Guinness, through. From ring through sweetening ring. Then you may not know how close it was to the end. Shame on ye fer that.

But, not-so-needless to say, it was close. Until a few things happened.

There are probably two major things and one minor, random thing that lead me to create this post tonight. Sorry, three major things. One being the idea that I want to do this. I enjoy the written word. And I told myself early on in this travesty of a blog that I'd stick to it. That aside, two major things. And one minor. Thing.

The first of the majors (outside of my obvious) has to do with me mate, The Emetic Sage. I read his stuff and I'm amazed. The short pieces are to the point and easily digestable... the longer pieces are gourmet meals, meant to be savored and enjoyed at pace. It's a fun blog to read and I enjoy checking in each day. Everything is well researched and written and there is a sense of refined-ness, as I make up a word.

How this pertains to my situation has become clear to me. I don't mean to sound like I'm blowing The E.S. here... but I must reiterate, he was the inspiration for me to start my own blog. So, there's some connection. What I realized, however, is that I'm not the Sage. I found myself trying to come up with the ultimate post - every time. And it was crippling. And I think the pressure got to me a bit. I just gotta write whatever...

The next major influence, I'll admit, is tough to recall right now. I think it has something to do with the fact that my last post was three bloody weeks ago! That could be it. Who knows?

Forget that. The fun part is the minor, random thing that kicked my proverbial arse into gear. The catylist, if you will.

It was a song I used to listen to in High School. Then randomly after that.

I came across it tonight in my collection and gave it a go round. It still holds its punch to this day and it brings me back to another time. As I sang along, I realized that you all need to hear this awesome tune. And that was the third (or fourth) reason why I hopped on the keyboard this eve.

Now, the bad news. I have a Napster account and they added a new feature where I could post a link to a song and you all could give it a listen. Albeit in a separate "Napster" window - but listen nonethesame. Up to three times, I guess.

That's not the bad news. The bad news is, that link isn't working on the Napster right now. Yes, The Napster. It's killing me... So, I'm going to keep an eye out and as soon as possible, get a link up. They better not shut that option down!

Oh. The song? If you're adventurous and want to find it on your own, here it is ::

> The Dead Milkmen
>> Dean's Dream

I didn't want to do this - but I've found the lyrics... nah, we'll see who reads this, first. Can't resist, here are a few...

(sneak preview :

We got in a tan van
Us two in the back
With Steve McGarrett
From Hawaii-Five-O
At the steering wheel
Speeding away we slide into a
Parking lot
And all in slow motion
These tough guys appear....

)

I like. Dziekuje. Viszlát.

Okay - I've managed to get the link working. 'Cuz that's just how V-Grease rocks it. Enjoy the soothing stylings of the Milkmen...

SHIT.. not working. Bloody hell...

Give this a shot. I think you need to register but you can listen to all sorts of tunes for free.. I guess that's the deal; I have an account so I can't tell how it works for non-subscribers. If someone could report back, that'd be pissah...

The Dead Milkmen - Dean's Dream

Bass Ale Excellence

2006-08-02T22:36:00.000-04:00

On most occasions, there would be some excuse given in a cleverly written e-mail response. A genuinely sincere regret but a decline of the invitation, nonetheless. It wasn't that he didn't like these people. He liked them fine enough.

What Jan Hernïk didn't like was the superficiality of most of the events to which he was invited. And the, sometimes, likewise atmosphere of these Don't Miss It!!! gatherings. It just wasn't worth it. He had his own, outside-of-work crew that he rode with.

Most of the people he knew at his office were of the same age. A few years out of college, maybe five. The I Know We're Out of College But Let's Live Like We're Not, Especially Now That We're All Getting Paid crowd. And a wonderful crowd, at that. There was simply no need for him to attempt immersion into this particular faction. One was enough.

"25 Fabulous Years of Jesse!" was the subject line of the only new e-mail message in Jan's unread messages when he returned from lunch. A hefty lunch hour clocking in close to ninety minutes. One e-mail.

"I might actually be able to get some work done this afternoon," was the almost subconscious thought trickling over his mind.

"Let's see what this is all about, then," was the very conscious idea he had next. The e-mail read:

--------
COME CELEBRATE WITH US!!!

Our OLD friend Jesse is hitting the big 2-5 this week!
Let's send her into old age in style!

Join us Thursday night, downtown at Excellence right
after work!

Happy Birthday Jesse!
--------

A fairly predictable message, given the subject line and whom it was from. But there was something different about this one. While glancing over the message, Jan cought a flash of a name out of the list of many recipients. Kristi Korver. He immediately wondered whether she'd be attending. Shortly afterwards, he decided he was free on Thursday.

Tuesday and Wednesday passed, if not unnoticed then definitely uneventfully. In contrast, the office held a bit of a festive air on Thursday. Not so much that there's nothing getting done. An anticipatory, festive air, it might be called. Jan could sense it but was unaffected, mostly thanks to his preoccupation with his own anticipation. Any other refusal to get swept up in it all was courtesy of what the locals call past experience.

It wasn't until Jan walked through the doors at Excellence that he realized he had probably made a big mistake. The place had only been open for three months. It showed. Somehow, the slew of young people, chatting and texting and drinking and texting, either didn't notice or chose to ignore it. This was Excellence, after all.

After a few cursory, "Hey, how's it goin'"s, to a few people he left only forty-five minutes ago, Jan found a spot at the end of the bar, closest to the front door. It wasn't an official roll call but he happened to notice Ms. Korver was late for class. No connection, whatsoever, with his parking spot.

"She could very well be out sick, today."

That was the odd phrase bouncing around his head as he tried to gain the attention of a bartender. Any of them would do. In the meantime, he took the opportunity to have a good look around the place. And wonder what that phrase might mean, while knowing full well of the instant conversation he had just finished with himself.

Excellence, he noticed, was an attempt at the newest twist in contemporary, fancy-pants, see-and-be-seen bars. Bars that have been infesting the nightlife scene with vigor, as of late. The bartender, who managed to find his way to Jan's end of the bar only after all the ladies present were freshened, did nothing to enhance the atmosphere.

"What can I get ya," he mumbled.

"I'll have a Bass Ale, please,"Jan replied, then adding in his head, "Sorry to have bothered you, ass-hole."

"Glass or pint?"

Hernïk is a Danish name. While the Danes enjoy well their fair share of beer, it was Jan's mother's heritage where he staked his claim. His mother was from England and he had visited her family back home on many occasions. As he grew older, and able to join his uncles at the pub, he eventually grew to appreciate a good pint of ale. As well as a good pint of lager, bitter, stout, or any other finely crafted brew.

Jan thought about the consequences but still decided to ask, "Is that an Imperial Pint?"

"A what pint!? It's a pint. You want one?"

On most occassions, the thought of, "Why bother?" is followed with a dismissive, "Yeah, sure," just to get the encounter over with. Something on this occassion was different. Screw this guy.

"I'd just like to know the size. An Imperial pint is measured and is a full 16 ounces. What people around here call a pint glass only hold 12 to 13 ounces. That's not a pint."

"What's the difference? It's a beer."

"The difference is that you don't even know the difference. If you're going to call yourself a bartender, you should probably know how to pour a proper beer! You make all these neon, fuck me drinks all night but you can't pull a decent pint for shit. Have some fucking pride in your work, man. Jesus. Sorry... I'll just take a Coors Light 16 ounce... please."

"Yeah, whatever..."

After some hesitation, the bartender begrudgingly fetched Jan's beer. Jan left a tip of conciliatory value, took his beer, and turned from the bar. Standing a few feet behind him was Kristi. By the pleasantly bemused look on her face, she had undoubtedly been standing there long enough to have witnessed the dialogue at the bar.

"Hi," she said, "I'm Kristi."

Have Craving, Will Travel.

2006-07-25T23:36:00.000-04:00

Tonight was one of those nights when things made sense. It wasn't any religious epiphany or mind-altering, cultural persuasion. It was conversation and the knowing of what had to be done.

It was about time to travel.

My Velkomin til Íslands bit will continue... it will.
(Peace out! pog & road; true this!)

Getting back to my current jones :: I realized, tonight, how much I miss traveling. All the strange encounters and uncertain moments. Good and bad. The unexpected events that inevitably define a trip, a voyage, a stay in X-land. It's all of the things that aren't preconceived that are the most enjoyable in any trip. Anyone who's traveled knows the feeling. Anyone who hasn't, should.

After work this evening, I joined my boss and a co-worker at the local right around the corner from our office buliding. A shit-hole of a place prior to about a year ago - until a couple of lads from Ireland took hold and put her right. Miles away. A fine pub that serves a swell pint of Guinness, now, she is.

Tonight, after a few fine pints later, we're on our way. Before scooting home for the night, I chat a bit with my boss - who, it so happens, has been one of my travel partners in all of my past ventures. This is where the smoldering coals erupt into a giant travel flame!

We recount episodes from Budapest (the bridge/hill incedent; the Fescek dinner; the cafe), extoll the uniqueness of our stories (have you ever gotten your camera confiscated at a nightclub in Helsingborg, Sweden?), and pine for futher days abroad... and soon.

Now, I'm fired up. If it isn't this fall, it'll be November. Catastrophe? We're talking spring 2007... but that's as far as I'm willing to go. I'm serious.

It's strange but I feel the compulsion to go somewhere else. I can't explain it - and I don't wish to try... I just accept it and do what I can to accomodate.

It's the end of July. In ten months' time, I hope to have been somewhere. Someplace I've never been before. You? You should venture to do the same.

Curse You, Technology!

2006-07-15T21:53:00.000-04:00

I can't believe what just happened.

I just lost almost two hours of work on the second post in my Velkomin til Íslands travel series. I'm absolutely gutted.

While finishing up the tale of our first night out, I had searched for some information on one of the places we went. Clicked on a link and something froze up that browser session. Impatiently, I pulled up the task manager in an attempt to get rid of it - and, instead, it killed all of my browser sessions !!

Gone. Unbelievable. I haven't got the energy or spirit to start fresh again, tonight. I'll have another go at it tomorrow... perhaps saving it a few times along the way, you know, just in case.

Instead, I'm going to do something decidedly untechnological - have some leftover pizza.

Happy Independent Day

2006-07-04T18:25:00.000-04:00

As I awaited the arrival of my large, toasted almond flavoured Turbo Ice at my local Crackin' Donuts, one of the servers asked the lad next to me in line, "Are they on today?" I sneaked a look his way and was immediately aware of the topic of discussion, albeit not explicitly expressed. The young guy was wearing a T-shirt replica of the Italian World Cup team; I recognized it instantly. "Yeah, the game is on at three," was his excited response. I knew at that moment how I'd be spending the next few hours of my afternoon.

Italy would be playing host Germany in a semi-final match, the winner of which would move on for a chance at winning it all on Sunday - Must-See TV, in my opinion. As it was only around 2:30, I scrolled through the broadcast listings and saw the program description Copa Mondial on cable channel 17, the Spanish language Univision in my area. I pressed the 'enter' button, the television screen flickered, and the tuner settled on two in-studio broadcasters going through highlights of previous World Cup action.

As ABC and ESPN are covering the tournament, I pulled up the guide again to see what, if any, Cup coverage any of the group of networks was airing. Much to my expected disappointment, ABC was airing a soap opera. ESPN, a ubiquitous, recorded poker show of some sort. Only immediately at game-time would ESPN have any World Cup coverage - namely, the game, itself. So, I stuck with my Spanish speaking amigos at Univision and enjoyed a half hour of delightful highlights and inspired commentary.

It didn't matter that I'm no where near fluent enough in Spanish to understand much of what was being said. However, being familiar with the sport, the teams, and the tournament results to this point it was easier to pick out a few things, here and there.

It reminded me of a line in a movie I watched this past Friday night. In The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada, two men are attempting to bring a man's corpse to Mexico to be properly buried in his hometown. On their way, they come across a shack in the desert and approach it, hearing the sounds of a Spanish radio station coming from inside. There's an old, blind man living alone in the shack and when one of the travellers greets him with, "Buenos días," the hermit says, "I don't speak Spanish but I like to listen to this Mexican radio station. I can't understand what they're saying but I like the way Spanish sounds, don't you?" "Yes, I do." is the traveller's response. Well, so do I.

When the game finally began, I had no intention of switching over to the English broadcast on ESPN. Sorry lads, you've lost this consumer, err, viewer. Two hours later, Italy was celebrating a 2-0 victory after scoring a quick pair of goals in the final five minutes of the second 15 minute extra-time session. And, yes, both goals came with the requisite, "Goooooooooooooooooooool!" exclamation from the excited announcer. An excellent match, all around.

This all got me thinking. I've heard and read alot from people about how they just "don't get this World Cup thing," in some manner or other. I can't understand that sentiment. There's nothing to get. It just is. It's a sport tournament pitting the best players from 32 countries against each other for nothing more than national pride. I'm sure players receive compensation of some sort but the essence of it is that they play for their country. And want to win for their country.

As we celebrate Independence Day today in the United States of America, I couldn't help recognize the eery analogy. The reason most Americans don't "get it" is as plain as the holiday we celebrate today. We are independent. Or, in other words, alone. Aloof. Isolated. Insulated from the rest of the world. Sure, we've got our immediate neighbors to the north and south of us. But we scarcely bother to interact with or, sometimes, acknowledge them at all.

This isn't true of our distant European cousins across the Atlantic, or our extended Asian family beyond the Pacific, to a lesser degree. I thought of the four remaining teams in the tournament - Italy, Germany, France, and Portugal. Putting all four of those countries together, I still don't think they'd approach the size of the U.S. - in square miles or population.

In our isolation, we lose much. How different would our lives be if the U.S. was divided into different countries of various size, like Europe? New England could be Scandinavia. Larger swaths of land out west divided like France, Spain, and Portugal. Mix up the Midwest like the smaller countries of Eastern Europe. The southern coast mimicking Greece, Italy, and Croatia in the Mediterranean area. Each area of our country already has unique qualities, much like the unique qualities of the multitude of European countries. It's not a stretch to see the resemblance. Furthermore, these are countries from which our ancesters came. Shouldn't we hold some closer tie to them? Have some interest in what they've been up to recently, like a second cousin you haven't seen in years?

Instead, we go it alone. The U.S. is like a giant yacht anchored a mile from shore. We can see the shoreline with all its activity, yet we venture no closer. Our yacht fully supplied for a life at sea without any need to dock, we peer through our binoculars viewing the smaller sailboats, fishing boats, surfers, etc. and bemoan, "I don't get it. Why would anyone waste their time with all that trivial interaction when we're perfectly happy floating out here... a mile from it all... alone?"

"I've got my shuffleboard deck. My playing cards for playing Solitaire. Enough frozen pizza to last a lifetime. How could I possibly need anything else?" we ponder, as our behemoth vessel pitches ever-so-slightly in the barely existent waves this far from shore.

It's not just the World Cup, it's the world itself we're wont to ignore. In no way am I anti-American. I'm proud to be a natural born citizen of the good ol' U.S. of A. But I'm also curious about what our long-lost cousins have been up to. Who's doing well, who may be having some troubles, and what they are doing for fun and excitement.

People often wonder why everyone "hates America." I don't think the majority of those people "hate" America, it's just difficult, sometimes, to have anything good to say about someone who couldn't care less about you. If we were more in-touch, as a nation, with what is going on around the world, we may better understand how our country is viewed by those abroad. Perhaps enhancing some of those views in the process.

It's time we docked this ship and spent a week on shore... to see what all the commotion is. You never know, you may find something to your liking.

With that, I'll admit to this being a somewhat hypocritically ironic post, this evening... as I've been quite enjoying my holiday here at home... alone.

Happy Independent Day!

Velkomin til Íslands

2006-06-21T21:56:00.000-04:00

It was a Thursday. The eighth of April, 1999, precisely. The day a few of me mates and I landed in Iceland. We took off from Logan International Airport in Boston sometime around 8 or 9 p.m., Wednesday. A little over five hours later, we were preparing to land at Keflavik International Airport, Keflavik, Iceland. Locally, it's about 6:30 a.m.

The view of the harbour during our descent was stunning. Picture one of those helicopter fly-by shots of a dark, placid, blue-green sea littered with the tips of a thousand icebergs. Add the arctic sun, barely extricating itself fully from the horizon, providing spectacular back-lighting and forget it. Some sights may match its beauty but, dare I say, none will ever surpass it.

It was as if we'd flown, directly and unequivocally, into one of those documentaries you'll find on The Discovery Channel, The National Geographic Channel, et al. If it was the opening scene of a movie, it'd be discarded as cliché.

That was my first glimpse of Iceland. I was jazzed up.

After landing, deplaning, regaining our luggage, and undergoing the necessary but awkward and nerve-wracking pass through customs, we head for the bus to Reykjavik. Once aboard, we're treated to a 45 minute ride through a Flintstone-esque landscape of lava fields. Each mile, excuse me, kílometrar, is practically indistinguishable from the next. But it's beautiful. I've never seen anything like it. I'm mesmorized.

We arrive at the hotel and check in unceremoniously, unpack, settle in, and rest for a spell. We'll be needing our strength for the horseback riding session I've just booked for this afternoon over the phone from my hotel room.

After one or two hours and a short taxi ride outside the city, we're at the farm. Upon entering we all realize that we need to get a picture of all of this. So, here is that picture :

This is the view as we enter the pen of the horses we'd soon be riding. We settle down and after an acceptably thorough instructional presentation, we lot are ready to mount. It's a fairly relaxing ride amidst a landscape of mostly lava fields and small ponds with faint traces of golf course on the outskirts of the trail.

Here's a snapshot of the surrounding landscape, which is also representative of alot of the landscape we encountered on our bus trip from the airport. I'm still fascinated by it this early in the trip :

And for posterity's sake, here's a bit of our group on the trail :

This is day one. Maybe it's eight hours after landing at the airport. Whenever it is, it's the beginning of an adventure like no other.

Stay tuned... The excursion continues.

What Are You Doing?

2006-06-16T00:32:00.000-04:00

Once again, I got into work late, again. Partly due to fault of my own; partly due to inexplicable and uncomprehensible traffic. Seriously. It was like, for the 35 minutes I was on the road (to travel a wee eight-plus miles from my domicile to my place du travail) every living sad-ass driver was on the go.

But that's the least of my worries.

Or the worst of my worries; I've yet to decide.

Nonetheless, I've made it to work and everything's keen. Until after I've pulled round the entrance-way and I'm making my way up to the employee parking area. Apparently, today, the 'employee' parking area isn't so open to allowing the 'employees' to park. Yes, I understand that today is the "CIO Workshop" ... but, whatever a "CIO" might be, did we need to invite each and every one of them !? From every state in the entire United States of America? Apparently, we did. And here they are. Taking up even the most precious 'late comer' spots in the lot. Curse them!

So, that's settled. I've managed to find a pretty sweet spot in the farthest reaches of the parking lot, right next to a stairwell that leads to the farthest end of the Swan Pond... right around North Dakota, I'd say.

Confused?

Don't be! or, at least, let me explain. There is a man-made pond (two, actually) on the grounds of my office building. Enjoyable. I'll continue.

These ponds support resident swans... real, live swans which live in this pond year-round. It's amazing in mid-January or February when it's cold as a witch's tit and these swans are just floatin' about... heads tucked in below a wing. And you're dyin' just gettin' to your car! Fuckin' Cold!!! There they are. Floatin' around.. taunting humans.

"Screw you sans-downy beasts! I've the hide to keep alive!" is what you imagine hearing them screaming from the pond on your way out. Yet, they're really more freezin' to fuck, as if they had a choice. They don't move. Still floatin' and still alive come spring, though. Friggin' swans. Tough bastards, them. Swans.

So, in this particular pond here's what's going on - "Two 'parent' swans teaching six or seven 'baby' swans how to survive in the dangerous confines of a man-made pond with a feeder machine easily accessible to most floating fowl." Nature at its finest. But I love the swans. Don't get me wrong... them little cygnets is somethin' to see. Love 'em. Then, they all disappear once they're older (about six weeks?) and it's looking to next June. For the next cygnet batch. It's science.

The above quote (in addition to everything written here, i'm talking about the stuff that's actually in " - quotes - ") was provided by me, earlier, while thinking amongst myself and is, therefore, thoroughly copywrighted. Or so you better believe it is.

Strangely enough, or maybe just an ironic coincidence (if such a thing exists...), the man-made pond all this fowl thrives upon is made out in the shape of The United States of America. Refer, please, to the Norh Dakota reference above, if you will.

So there's my just getting into work, today. Brilliant. I've made it. Fuck the swans - today, i'm concerned about the penguins! And before you question - I do noe want to get into that, about the swans. Feedin' and that. Fuckin' NGEO channel's for that. Penguins is universal. Penguins... Weasels... you know whom I'm talking about.

It's about mid-day and I'm heading up the hall for a squirt. Same Men's Room I visit once or twice a day... and Holy Mackerel !! What in the fuck has happened here?! Definitely more a question and then - an exclamation. Well documented something.

It's been one of those days where you're left amazed at the undeniable and non-defensable attack on civil and cordial etiquite. Then there's the question... 'What about the toilet?'

Thus, it is told.

And here I lay out the fetid story of the ravaged Men's Rooom.

It was one of the men's rooms that I'd come to enjoy. And I found I had developed a deep discouragement as it became increasingly maligned. Mistreated by guests that were oblivious to their impact on the space, the toilet stall was now a liquified, desolate, place to be.

As difficult a topic as this is, the main point is that these pigs.... these 'men in suits' - and I don't mean the single quotes as a joke.. it's to identify who i'm referring to - are PIGS! Remember, the place is loaded with people 'dressed to the nines'... in suits; ties; pressed pants; the trappings of well-heeled business folk...

I went to check into a stall and there was piss all over the seat. The ceramic part of the seat! Who the F is pissing all over the toilet seat ??!! In a sit-down, practically shyte-only, stall? I know who it is. It's Mr. Genius SmartyPants, the guy who's shown up in a Suit today. Good for you! As if that suit is going to convince me that you're smarter than you really are. Truth be told, you can't even control your own dick when it comes to pissin' !! The fucking toilet is a mess. You've created a health hazard.

You. All of you fucking monkey-suit wearing pricks... Get the F out !!

You don't wash your hands in the bathroom.
You don't care about the people you're meeting with.
Go Fuck Yourself... Please!

Jeez, this seems fairly harsh, looking at it... Maybe they're all right.

Nah. 'Twas one of the most disgusting diplays I've ever witnessed.

Fucking suits... means pissing all over the place and someone else'll clean it all up when you're gone.

Never mind the sinks - where it's as if they're trying to baptize cats! There's enough residual water to supply a small nation, the water spilled upon the surface of the sinks. What are these people doing? How does that much sludge and water find its way to the tableop?

Wash your f-ing hands and keep the tidal wave to yourself! For fuck's sake.... I can't imagine what goes on to get that much water all over the place ??? Seriously, what the F are you doing, that that much water ends up on the outside of the sink?

Fuck me.

The Post With No Apparent Focus

2006-06-07T23:25:00.000-04:00

It's not hard to believe that I'm rarely at a loss for words. The frequency of my posts does not accurately reflect the number of ridiculous ideas I hold in my skull-encrusted mass of neurological tissue. It's a matter of logistics. I'm priming for the upgraded system this summer... a tale for another twilight.

The point here is that I'm experiencing overload.

o I just watched a Stanley Cup game 2 that was a 5-0 shutout - but
I'm optomistic Edmonton can come back at home and tie the
series at 2 a piece.

o I'm not sure if this Raconteurs album is great or just good.

o I just noticed that only the letters 'T' and 'I' have begun every
sentence, so far.

o Thank you for taking the time to verify. (5 'I's and 2 'T's, yeah?
and yet another 'T', here... that's 5 and 3 but who's counting?)

o Obviously, I am.

o I terribly miss traveling. Probably the single-most jones I've
got, right now. I need to go somewhere. If not Prague this
fall, why not Iceland this winter?

o Cooking is good. More cooking needs to happen at The Inn.

o How much would maid service be, saaaaay... twice a month?

o I need someone to explain to me the fascination with celebrity.
What the fuck is so special about these people? I'm lost.

o A good cup of coffee can make a bad day tolerable.

o A great cup of coffee (ohhh, like - homemade espresso one
of me mates makes) can make that same day worthwhile.

o I love The Dome.

That's about all I can muster at this point. There's plenty more but I run the risk of telling too much. Not true. It's just too late.

Good Night.

Game on.

2006-06-01T21:23:00.000-04:00

First, a small confession. I haven't been watching too much of the NHL playoffs this season. I watched a ton of games during the regular season on the Center Ice package (best $130.00 I've ever spent) - but after taking the Cup in my fantasy hockey league and baseball season starting up, it's been a bit anti-climactic for me. Especially with the sorry state my Bruins are in. Here's hoping Chiarelli brings some life to the Bs. "F" Jacobs.

That said, the Sox are off tonight and there's a Game 7 between Buffalo and Carolina on OLN. Perfect opportunity to jump back in the game. So, I did. And I am lovin' it. And something tells me the Sox are going to take a back seat during the Cup Finals.

You'll often hear hockey fans, and even sports people in general, proclaim, "There's nothing like playoff hockey." No more veritable words have ever been spewed forth by man nor beast. Especially in a Game 7.

With the series on the line - and a shot at the championship in the balance - players display phenomenal physical stamina and feats of athleticism you wouldn't imagine possible.. The energy is unbelievable. Anything is possible in a Game 7. Every player on the roster has a chance to be the hero. The player that will succeed at just the right moment to propel his team into the next round... or, better yet, to Stanley Cup Champions.

It's too much to explain here (and besides, i've got the game paused during the second intermission - with Buffalo leading 2-1, on the road, after a goal with only 4.7 seconds left in the period - and i'm jonesin' to return to it) but - believe me... if you like sport and don't think you're a fan of hockey - the Stanley Cup Finals begin Monday night with the winner of tonight's tilt hosting the Cinderella Edmonton Oilers (eighth and lowest seed in the West).

Do yourself a favor. Watch it. Watch some of it. You won't believe your eyes. Just watch one period and you'll see for yourself why hockey is, plain and simple, the best game in the world.

Now, if you'll excuse me.... Game on.

You Can't Beat Mother Nature

2006-05-29T19:56:00.000-04:00

While I realize the proper adage is "You can't fool mother nature," I'm putting a bit of a twist on it to help describe my experience this past weekend.

One of my good mates makes his living as a professional landscaper. Recently, he sent an e-mail to a group of friends asking if any of us were willing to lend him a hand in a side-job he is doing. In a decision partly made in good will towards helping him out and partly for some self-fulfillment of my own, I agreed to sign on as a hired laborer. With full knowledge that it would undoubtedly put my physical capabilities to the test.

Needless to say, that assessment was spot on. However, the sense of satisfaction I had after finishing for the day made all the expected aches and pains well worth the effort.

My day began with the task of clearing out some pruning behind the row of trees marking the back end of the property. The space was cramped and the seemingly endless trips from behind the trees to the tarp I was to use to transport the refuse were punctuated by branches scraping my face and arms. After the first few trips I became accustomed to the feel and towards the end of my task I felt that I was becoming immune to it. At the same time, I was increasingly aware of the fresh smell of decomposing natural materials. Not at all like rotting garbage but quite the opposite. It was a fresh, earthy smell that held a secret. A secret of the cycle of life, of rejuvenation. A beautiful secret with a beautiful scent.

Next up on the list was what a couple of us hired hands began to jokingly refer to as 'rock farming'. One of the professionals on site had a Bobcat - one of those stout and powerful machines used to move small quantities of earth, boulders, and trees. As he expertly trolled the small plot in an effort to loosen up the soil, rocks of all shapes, sizes, and weights began surfacing. It was our job to clear the larger of them by picking them up by hand, tossing them into wheelbarrows, and trekking them to the edge of the site to be dumped as fill. It wasn't a glamorous job and it held much less introspective qualities than did my previous chore. One unmistakable lesson, however, was that rocks are heavy. Deceivingly heavy. And in seemingly endless supply. Soon, pickings became slim and only the smallest of rocks remained. Mission accomplished. The ground was ready for the next phase in its transformation.

While I was somewhat relieved to be finished with my rock farming duties, I found myself nostalgically remeniscing about 'the good 'ol minutes' after I began "grubbing." Looking back, this was the most difficult task of the day, by far. Grubbing is the term used for removing grass by hand with a large (and heavy) pick-axe type tool. One side comes to a point while the other comes to a flattened blade. By repetitiously lifting and dropping the axe, with the blade side down, small squares of grass are cut and separated from the earth below the roots. It's backbreaking work - and for someone going into it with a foul back to begin with, not a very pleasant task. With three of us on the job we managed to finish in a reasonable amount of time. None of us, I'm sure, was happier about that than I. If i never have to grub again, I'll die a happy man.

The final stage of the day's work consisted of planting three new trees from the nursery. I had been given the task of digging the hole for one of them. Luckily for me, it was to go into a circular stone feature in the center of the driveway which had probably been filled with loose dirt and compost, initially. This made the digging easy. No rocks to farm; no grass to grub. Job done. I was quite proud of my hole. One of the trees, I know, was a birch tree. The other two, I'm not so sure... and by that time of the afternoon, I was too exhausted to really care one way or the other. They were cool looking, though. That I do know. And they were fun to plant.

With just some cleaning up to do - picking up tools that had scattered themselves across the yard, sweeping dirt from the driveway, and collecting any trash that had accumulated - the day was coming to an end. While sweeping the driveway, I also surveyed the area and felt a sense of pride in the work we had accomplished. The ground we had cleared and graded to a natural smoothness. The trees in their new homes. The debris removed. It all looked fantastic. There was alot more to go in finalizing the project, for sure. That would be left for another day. But I was content to take in what we had done on that day.

All in all, a successful day. I've gained a new appreciation for those of us who work in a more physical profession - but, most importantly, I've also gained a new appreciation for those things that surround us each day. The beautiful, living, breathing, and silent things that only Mother Nature can provide.

Do Clothes Make the Man?

2006-05-24T18:06:00.000-04:00

Had a conversation with some mates the other night regarding clothing. It began harmlessly enough as reported here. However, it later morphed into a more theoretical exchange on the importance of appearance and clothing's effect on its wearer.

I'm of the belief that a three-piece suit doesn't make one perform any better or worse in their profession. Especially if said profession doesn't involve any direct interaction with the general public, as is the case in my profession of computer programming. What does a fancy suit add to my ability to program?

However, I do believe that having some pride in personal appearance can positively affect a person's attitude, without it having to cross the line into outright vanity. I'll admit that I enjoy watching the program What Not to Wear. Both the American version and the original, British version. I began watching the original on BBC America mostly because I enjoyed the two women hosts - and the fact that they frequently used the word 'tits' during episodes and weren't afraid to discuss them openly and touch them occasionally. The American version isn't so bad, either, albeit a bit more reserved in the 'tit' department. But I digress.

The point two of us were trying to make is that the people who are enlisted as guests - or 'victims', since they are secretly signed up by friends and family - are typically put off by the idea at first. Admittedly, I understand the initial indignation. No one likes to be told that they look awful and anyone would be slightly offended by such an insinuation. Eventually, however, each guest on the show is converted by the end of the ordeal. Their spirits are enlightened, thier outlook brightened, and over-all self esteem heightened. And what's wrong with that?

The third party in the conversation wouldn't have any of it. "Clothes shouldn't matter. It's what's on the inside that is important," was his general defense. That's partly true. But what's wrong with being who you are and taking some pride in appearance at the same time? It doesn't stand that simply because you're putting on a decent outward appearance that you're selling yourself short... or bowing to the pressures of a material society.

It seems to me that there is some idealism at play, here. His ideal being that clothing shouldn't make any difference, under any circumstances. What we tried to point out was the fact, if one feels better about themselves with certain clothing options, where is the harm? Believe me, I'm no fashion expert. I believe in simple, comfortable clothing. I try to avoid wearing suits at all cost. But a little style here and there isn't a sin, is it?

So, I propose to my idealistic friend, hold yourself up to your own ideal. If clothing is as utilitarian as you profess, why not show up to work in some ill-fitting, out-of-date slacks and an horrendous silk print shirt? Same outfit. Every day. For a week. I'll pick them out for you - and even pay for them. After all, why should it matter? It's just clothing.

lightwaves

2006-05-15T23:19:00.000-04:00

lightwaves

the waves of days
carry life sublime
crashing port to unchecked port
of call

the lighthouse rays
now absorbed by time
harbor the wreckage of each
of all

Ever Have 'One of Those Days' ?

2006-05-15T13:36:00.000-04:00

It's been raining here in beautiful, Eastern Massachusetts nigh on a fortnight and I'm lovin' it. I'm not revelling in all the flooding going on in communities north of Boston, upward into New Hampshire, and those found increasingly southward as it continues to rain. I wish those communities and people struggling with the current conditions safe and speedy recoveries.

My point is that I don't mind the foul weather. People often gripe and moan about the wet springs we endure in New England. And the snowy winters. And the wet and increasingly chilly autumns, come to think of it. Although, the unrelenting heat and humidity that blankets the area perennially for some two-week period or other between June and September tends to burn my britches the most - thank Science for air-conditioning - but in the end, I don't mind that so much, either.

Why do I bring it up? Because it's not the weather that's doin' me head in today. It's just 'one of those days'.

I think it began while making my way to work this morning. The myriad of morons on the roadways was (or should I say is - as I'm sure they're still out there now) unbearable. However, I'll leave that tangent untouched for fear of my fingers falling off.

It's one of those days where no one is welcome. Complete strangers walking down the hall ignite a flame of fury inside me, making me want to erupt with a magma of detestation. I can't stand the sound of the human voice. It's as if a blanket soaked in inanity has been draped over my body and tied with ropes of annoyance. Screw Everyone, I say.

And the people sharing my work area are doing naught to help improve the situation.

One guy had a 10 minute argument with someone regarding selling a house that no one was currently living in. There were problems finding someone to sell it, blah, blah, fucking blah... I don't give a fuck, buddy. And now, to my luck, he's morphed into The Incredible Sighing Machine. Clockwork. Every two-minutes or so, whilst doing whatever the fuck he's doing, he lets out a nice, juicy, woe-is-me, sigh. Fuck off, douche.

And that's not the worst of it. There's this prick of a guy that's been in my area for a while now. Condescending, arrogant, prick of a guy. Seems he's having a bit of a day, himself. Periodically sighing and pounding his fist to the desk in frustration over something... maybe the rain's disrupted the fucking little league schedule for the league he's constantly on the phone about. Mind you, we work at a medical software company.

The topper though, is his headphone set. We've got an open working environment where "cubicles" have walls that only extend about eight inches above the desk - so, everyone's visible and audible. Sometimes a few of us will get into some conversations that don't involve everyone and things can get a bit loud. Recently, to combat this, he's brought himself in some headphones. Not your typical earbud or even slick ear-covering design. These are full-fledged, airport runway tarmac, fucking headphones. They're red. He's resorted to wearing these as if to not-so-subtley tell everyone, "Hey, shut the fuck up loudmouths, I've got important work to do and I don't need your distractions." They look like he could have used him with his reel-to-reel tape machine in college, listening to Grand Funk Railroad or Jefferson Fucking Airplane.

Get the fuck out of here, you annoying prick. And take your Smithsonian 'living legend' earphones with you.

So, it's after lunch and the day's half over. I'm going to put on my headphones (much sleeker and cooler, I'll have you know), bury myself in some Sigur Rós or Ricky Gervais Show podcasts, and try and avoid humanity for the next four hours and hope tomorrow isn't like today. Wish me luck, ass hole.

My Job Sucks

2006-05-08T14:42:00.000-04:00

Well, not really, it doesn't. I quite like my job, actually. I've been with the same medical software company for just over 12 years now and it's still - for me - a great place to work. It's probably not the highest paying job in the field of computers... and I'm perfectly fine with that. No, not probably, I know it's not. I consider a big portion of my salary to be paid out in "chill" bucks. Intangeable influences that one may not find working for other companies. It gives me peace of mind which, in turn, allows me to enjoy my time away from work all the more thoroughly.

However, I must admit that compared to Anthony Bourdain's current job - my job sucks. Doesn't even come close. I may as well be quarrying stone to build a pyramid.

Thanks to the ingenius development of DVR cable boxes, I had a few episodes of "Anthony Bourdain : No Reservations" stored on my box. I watched them over the weekend and soon found myself daydreaming about a life as a travel show host. But he's not just any travel show host. He enjoys the best of both worlds... Traveling (all paid for by the Travel Channel, I'm assuming) and drinking and Eating. And I don't mean eating, I mean Eating, with a capital E. It's not the typical travel show destinations in each country and it's not the typical food. He gets down and dirty with the locals and is able to witness amazing - and quite personal, in some cases - ceremonies, rituals, and events.

This isn't saying that he doesn't deserve his job and I should be doing it instead. Far from it. As a chef who's lived a tough life toiling in kitchens across the country, along with living like the proverbial rock star, he's earned his lot. And I'm not so sure I'd be as brave as he was... sitting on the kitchen floor of an Inuit family's kitchen with a freshly caught seal split open, ready for dinner. Family members happily grabbing fleshy bits, covered in blood, and popping them into their mouths like boneless buffalo chicken tenders. Grandparents and young children alike, blissfully gnawing the raw meat off freshly picked bones, faces smeared with seal blood. And, of course, they save the majority of the blood for stew. As the honoured guest he was offered the delicacy of the meal, the eyeball, to be split open with a blade and its insides sucked out... much like eating a chocolate covered cherry, avoiding the chocolate.

You have to see it to believe it. And, believe me, once you've seen it - it isn't nearly as nasty as it might sound. Come to think of it, it's not too far removed from Irish black pudding, which I quite enjoyed while in Ireland last spring. For those unaware, it's not a dessert dish. It's a type of sausage made with some mixture of spices, wheat, and sheep's blood. Quite tasty. Actually, who am I kidding - it's miles away from that Inuit feast.

In any case, I'm not sure if I could manage the seal eyeball, the grilled cow stomach lining he so enjoyed while in China, or alot of the other local treats he's encountered - but I'd love to be given the opportunity. And it's not all blood, guts, and nasty bits. He knows alot of chefs around the world and he's treated to some pretty fantastic meals during these trips, as well.

That's the life. Traveling far and wide, off the beaten track, to mingle with the true citizens of each country and enjoying what they enjoy. Then ducking back to the city for a gourmet meal and a night on the town, overindulging on the region's favourite drink - whatever it may be. Only to awaken the next day and do it all over again... some day, perhaps.

Calling a Spade a Spade

2006-05-03T18:30:00.000-04:00

I noticed the other day a woman who sits around the corner from me in my office building is pregnant. Again. Now, I know she's married, so it's not some scandal or anything. However, it got me to thinking.

We see pregnant woman walking about us all the time. On the streets, in our offices, at the grocery, etc. As most people are aware of how, for the most part, a woman is impregnated it struck me. Might we have some built-in mechanism that defuses our "R-rated" thoughts on the subject? After all, with the overall puritan beliefs regarding sex in this country suffocating us (at least us openly talking about it; advertisers seem to have immunity on the subject), why are we so inclined to gloss over that how.

"ooh, congratulations!" we exclaim upon hearing the news. "Is it a boy or a girl?" typically being the next question asked, as if anyone gives a crap.

The thing with this particular woman in my office, however, is that this will be her third child... within about two and a half years time. Her THIRD ! Think about that. Over the past two and a half years, she's been pregnant for pretty much the entire stretch. Most people would call her a "working mother" but let's call a spade a spade here...

She's a WHORE ! for fuck's sake - get off your back for a minute, will you? Put your friggin' panties back on, fix your hair, and get back to work! We shouldn't be congratulating and asking which sex the baby might be... we should be asking, "Oh, at it again, were you?" and "Great job. Thrown open the gates again, i see. Thanks. Guess who'll be taking over your work while you're out on leave? Well done. Whore."

The inevitable, "When are you due?" question is really a means for us to do some quick math and think, "Okay, three months.... It's early May, so, that's October. Someone sure did get a treat, then, didn't they."

So, next time you see a pregnant woman... remember, it's not really a 'miracle'. pause for a moment and just imagine how it happened. that filthy wench was bent over the rail with her skirt up over her head, recently. And there's no hiding that fact. Congratulations!!

Settling In

2006-05-03T00:54:00.000-04:00

the sandwich (sandwiches - if i'm being frank), was delicious.
thank you for asking.

ingredients? soon enough.
here's a hint :: horseradish mustard may have been involved.

So, here's the deal - and perhaps this is why I'm at such
a stalemate against what to record next... one of my mates
introduced me to his blog recently. He'd been keeping it for
a few months. I had no idea.

I had come across blogs before and was intrigued by the idea.
I enjoyed his quite a bit and it got me interested in publishing
my own. However, I've quickly learned that it's tough to come
up with poignant topics each day.

This is probably more for my recollection than anything you'd
give a crap about - but i'm curious to see what develops and i
need to remember why i did this in the first place. So, this
space will probably suck for a while. So be it.

But I'm hoping it's a short while. The point is to keep with it.
Get better. In the mean time, I'll continue posting bollocks
while I find my groove...

probably something along the lines of a chilled out entertainer vibe.

With some drum and bass shit mixed in.

hungry

2006-04-29T02:41:00.000-04:00

i'm going to the kitchen to make a delicious sandwich.

What's The Point?

2006-04-28T23:36:00.000-04:00

All right... i'm not defending the guy for what he's
said in the past or whatever agenda he's been pushing
for however long.

but i just caught something on the Eleven O'Clock News

(which, to those of you that grew up before the advent of
CableTV know, was the end-all and be-all of your TV news influence.
It's portrayed in capital letters, for those among us of younger
generations, because it was the place to get the news of the day.
For more explanation and clarity on the subject, i suggest you
view - or re-view - one of the finest films ever to be projected to
the silver screen... "Anchorman : The Legend of Ron Burgundy,"
starring the inimitable Will Ferrell, to gain an understanding
of the relative importance of the Eleven O'Clock News in its hey
day - or the Six O'Clock News, for you early birds.)

that i wanted to share with you...

So, here it is in April of 2006 and one of the stories to break
the lineup is that Rush Limbaugh has relapsed in his effort
to quit his penchant for over-the-counter pain killers - or
whatever it is he's supposedly addicted to. Don't care.

The point is... the man hasn't had any influence on politics
since his 'recovery' period began. So, why the unnecessary
flogging of character? Why is his setback a newsworthy
piece - in as much as news goes? Answer? It's not.

But it "makes great copy" - which may or may not be a
true journalistic catch phrase... so they air the segment,
anyhow.

I'm not promoting the guy or his beliefs, thoughts, or
whatever. I just don't see the need to 'spotlight' the
guy's personal trek.

Okay - let's do an introspective and dig deep into the
personal lives of the 'experts' that disect Hollywood
and the local news anchors (and writers, producers,
et cetera) that seem to thrive on schadenfreude and
depend on it for ratings. Who's first?

Oh, that's right.. it's a different set of rules of judgement,
because you're all here to report the news. yep, forgot that.

Look, personally, I think Rush is a douche. But the
guy doesn't deserve a non-productive bit on the news
just to show that he's havin' some troubles... Imagine
if you flicked on the news at night and some head was
spouting personal details of your life. you, my friend,
would be pissed.

The point here? (yeh... i'm gettin' to it)
The News should be news... not gossip.
There are plenty of places to pick up gossip.
The Eleven O'Clock News shouldn't be one of them.

Two Things I Am Definitely Not (yet)

2006-04-28T01:34:00.000-04:00

must be nice. yeah, must be nice. being rich. or old.
same thing, really, in my town. when people are driving, anyway.

seems that rich people tend to take their time when they drive.
should i turn when the light turns green or should i wait a while,
while everyone in range gawks in awe at my sweet ride?
i don't have anywhere to go. my money's working for me.
i've got time to crawl around the streets at an ungodly,
insufficient pace.

seems that old people tend to take their time when they drive.
should i turn or should i admire the intersection's geometric beauty?
a question everyone's asked themselves at some point, yeah? even
if for a mili-second. or a nanosecond but that could be a bit too
technical. or not. i like the use of the dash ("-") as well as other
strange writing (typing, really) quirks i've picked up, so, bear with it...

seems no one in either group is in a hurry to go anywhere.

might be a bit harsh but the underlying fact remains...
in my town, you don't want to get caught on the road behind
the rich. or the old.

they're both here - and we need them both... i'm just sayin'.
i wish i had their patience.
and i can't wait to be one of them.
preferably the latter, i think.