Being a father myself, I just want to say, relax and enjoy whatever it is they want to do. Remember, this is not YOUR day.
It is THEIR day to express, however oddly, what they feel about you. Just smile, say thank you and go along with the program. That way everybody will be happy.
Happy Father's Day!
Sunday, June 20, 2004
Saturday, June 19, 2004
Last Comic Standing Ripoff II
I thought it was a farce the last time around. This time around, I now know it is. The "judges" up front, the professional comics voted for certain people as the funniest of the crew.
I agreed with almost every one of them. Few of their choices made the final cut. It was obvious that rather than a contest being held, a sitcom was being cast. The producers were looking for "types" to interact in the controled circumstances of the Hollywood Mansion. They were not looking for The Funniest.
What a crock!
I don't intend to watch the rest of the series. With the exception of one "contestant, I don't see the outstanding talent that would inspire me in today's saturated entertainment environment.
She will go quickly by the wayside because of the threat she is to the others.
If I think so little of the show, why am I spending so much time on it? Because the concept had great promise. It was ruined by The Suits.
The Suits are evil. One day, I will do an entire blog on The Suits. That is, if they don't cut me off first...[G] =30=
I agreed with almost every one of them. Few of their choices made the final cut. It was obvious that rather than a contest being held, a sitcom was being cast. The producers were looking for "types" to interact in the controled circumstances of the Hollywood Mansion. They were not looking for The Funniest.
What a crock!
I don't intend to watch the rest of the series. With the exception of one "contestant, I don't see the outstanding talent that would inspire me in today's saturated entertainment environment.
She will go quickly by the wayside because of the threat she is to the others.
If I think so little of the show, why am I spending so much time on it? Because the concept had great promise. It was ruined by The Suits.
The Suits are evil. One day, I will do an entire blog on The Suits. That is, if they don't cut me off first...[G] =30=
w:bloggar still wins out
It is hard to believe, I know but the free blog editor w:bloggar v.3.03 is still the easiest to use and gets the results I require. There are certainly more complicated editors, with many more "features." As with many bloated bits of software, these are "features" I either don't need or can find a way to accomplish with w:bloggar by rtfm.
We all patiently await version 4. It is my hope the author doesn't fall into the trap of bloating the software. =30=
We all patiently await version 4. It is my hope the author doesn't fall into the trap of bloating the software. =30=
Friday, June 18, 2004
So tired!!
Have you ever been so tired you can't sleep? For the past two weeks, on top of everything else, my team needed to do "A Presentation." It was exhausting work. When it was finally submitted, to raving reviews, the relief, the pure giddiness, is not something I have experienced in a very long time. It felt good.
Now I need to just sleep. I will go do that right NOW! =30=
Now I need to just sleep. I will go do that right NOW! =30=
Sunday, June 13, 2004
Found another blog host: Blog-City
This morning I did a Yahoo search for "Blog Directory" and came up with a link to Blog-City.
Every ready to try something new, I popped over there and set up an account.
All went well, until I tried to use their online editor with Opera 7.5. When the POST and PUBLISH button was pushed, it stuck at waiting and never published.
Then I went to the ever faithful w:bloggar. There were settings for it listed in the Blog-City FAQ. Tried them, didn't work. The dreaded 404 error was keeping me out. There were default settings on bloggar itself. More 404. I will dwell deeper into this later in the day. My family seems to like it when I drag myself away from this drug of choice, blogging!!!
It occured to me that perhaps it was Opera 7.5. I dragged IE out of the attic and tried it. BINGO! Now there is another Grazing blog out there.
Every ready to try something new, I popped over there and set up an account.
All went well, until I tried to use their online editor with Opera 7.5. When the POST and PUBLISH button was pushed, it stuck at waiting and never published.
Then I went to the ever faithful w:bloggar. There were settings for it listed in the Blog-City FAQ. Tried them, didn't work. The dreaded 404 error was keeping me out. There were default settings on bloggar itself. More 404. I will dwell deeper into this later in the day. My family seems to like it when I drag myself away from this drug of choice, blogging!!!
It occured to me that perhaps it was Opera 7.5. I dragged IE out of the attic and tried it. BINGO! Now there is another Grazing blog out there.
The pitfalls of SPAM editing.
When I checked my email this morning, there were an extraordinarily high number of files in the SPAM directory. As a caution, I don't have the filter delete the files but put them aside for viewing on a Sunday morning. Much to my surprise, there were 14 messages in the list that weren't SPAM.
One announced the death of a dear friend, with his funeral listed for yesterday.
Another was from a friend on the left coast:
Though she changed from one ISP to another, she was wise enough to select the same user name and to very clearly state in the subject line her name and that this was a change of eddress.
Then there was an email that has been part of a running thread with a friend in NYC:
Her email was piled in with the many offers to improve my manhood, destroy my debt and offer me photos the street dealers of Tiajuana in the late sixties would find offensive. I suppose I have to tweak the filter further. I would rather tweak the noses of the SPAMMERS but we must rise above it all. (I suppose...)=30=
One announced the death of a dear friend, with his funeral listed for yesterday.
Another was from a friend on the left coast:
Though she changed from one ISP to another, she was wise enough to select the same user name and to very clearly state in the subject line her name and that this was a change of eddress.
Then there was an email that has been part of a running thread with a friend in NYC:
Her email was piled in with the many offers to improve my manhood, destroy my debt and offer me photos the street dealers of Tiajuana in the late sixties would find offensive. I suppose I have to tweak the filter further. I would rather tweak the noses of the SPAMMERS but we must rise above it all. (I suppose...)=30=
Saturday, June 12, 2004
...a very special group of pixels
Near the bottom of the blog called Boogie Street there is this bouncing thing:
Out of curiosity and having a lot of time on my hands, I clicked on it. Do you remember the Pet Rock? This is one level above the pet rock in that it appears to move and changes color. A pet rock had its uses. It could be used as a paper weight. Like all good paper weights, it could also be used, as they say in the trade, as a blunt intrument. This bouncy thing, called a "SpaceFemBlob" would make a very poor blunt intrument. But, as I said, it does move and change colors. There is value in that. Have you see Times Square lately? =30=
Out of curiosity and having a lot of time on my hands, I clicked on it. Do you remember the Pet Rock? This is one level above the pet rock in that it appears to move and changes color. A pet rock had its uses. It could be used as a paper weight. Like all good paper weights, it could also be used, as they say in the trade, as a blunt intrument. This bouncy thing, called a "SpaceFemBlob" would make a very poor blunt intrument. But, as I said, it does move and change colors. There is value in that. Have you see Times Square lately? =30=
Appointment Cancelled, Oh Dear!!
As I am sure anyone reading this has done, I have cancelled many an appointment with dentists and doctors. This morning was the first time one of them cancelled with me. It threw my entire Saturday off. I had intended to drag myself out of the house because I HAD to go to the dentist. Now that I don't HAVE to, a severe case of malingering has overcome me.
=
I associate this with the one day I showed up at the door of our grammar school to find it was closed. ALL of the other children's parents had been notified. If you knew anything about my childhood, you would know why I didn't get the news. Here I was, a child of ten or so. As far as my family unit, what there was of it, was concerned, I was at school. As far as the school was concerned, I was home.
=
A ten year old boy, off the radar in Manhattan on a perfectly good week day.
It was the first time in my life I was overwhelmed by the options before me. I could go anywhere in the city.
The subway was at my command. It was dime back then, or free if you snuck under the turnstyle while the token clerk was distracted. I could have gone to the Bronx Zoo, Broadway, Central Park, Inwood Hill Park anywhere in the wonderous city.
It was too, too much. I took out a book, read a little. Played a little ball in the school yard and went home. I put myself back on the screen.
=
Too many options hurts. That's why when I considered turning on the TV, the 375 stations now available on TiVo-via-cable was just too much. Oh for the days of Your Show of Shows and Milton Berle's Texaco Hour!
Wait! I think one of those stations lists the old shows. Let me go to the Cable website and see... Elaine Stritch at Liberty. A documentary on her road to her first Emmy. Not and old show but a show about an old broad. And I mean 'broad' as a title, like Dame in the UK. =30=
=
I associate this with the one day I showed up at the door of our grammar school to find it was closed. ALL of the other children's parents had been notified. If you knew anything about my childhood, you would know why I didn't get the news. Here I was, a child of ten or so. As far as my family unit, what there was of it, was concerned, I was at school. As far as the school was concerned, I was home.
=
A ten year old boy, off the radar in Manhattan on a perfectly good week day.
It was the first time in my life I was overwhelmed by the options before me. I could go anywhere in the city.
The subway was at my command. It was dime back then, or free if you snuck under the turnstyle while the token clerk was distracted. I could have gone to the Bronx Zoo, Broadway, Central Park, Inwood Hill Park anywhere in the wonderous city.
It was too, too much. I took out a book, read a little. Played a little ball in the school yard and went home. I put myself back on the screen.
=
Too many options hurts. That's why when I considered turning on the TV, the 375 stations now available on TiVo-via-cable was just too much. Oh for the days of Your Show of Shows and Milton Berle's Texaco Hour!
Wait! I think one of those stations lists the old shows. Let me go to the Cable website and see... Elaine Stritch at Liberty. A documentary on her road to her first Emmy. Not and old show but a show about an old broad. And I mean 'broad' as a title, like Dame in the UK. =30=
At 0239 Finished watching Matrix Revolution
Enough is enough certainly applies to this, hopefully, the final Matrix film. It flew into my hand this afternoon while I was grazing in the Best Buy in Brockton, MA.
I went in to get a Serial/USB connector to hook my Palm Vx to the lap top. Of course I walked out with all sorts of goodies, one of which is lighting my wireless Microsoft keyboard.
I got the USB/Serial connector, but the Palm cradle doesn't seem to like it. It is too late tonight to do anything about it.
It WAS a pleasure to watch a DVD on the laptop. I felt a Matrix movie of any kind should be the one that is first shown on the laptop screen. It did, I will admit, add a little to the experience to watch a movie about a world run by computers on a computer. It really wasn't that big a deal, just interesting.
Bed Time!!!
I went in to get a Serial/USB connector to hook my Palm Vx to the lap top. Of course I walked out with all sorts of goodies, one of which is lighting my wireless Microsoft keyboard.
I got the USB/Serial connector, but the Palm cradle doesn't seem to like it. It is too late tonight to do anything about it.
It WAS a pleasure to watch a DVD on the laptop. I felt a Matrix movie of any kind should be the one that is first shown on the laptop screen. It did, I will admit, add a little to the experience to watch a movie about a world run by computers on a computer. It really wasn't that big a deal, just interesting.
Bed Time!!!
Thursday, June 10, 2004
Had to fire a man today...
Probably the hardest thing a boss can do is fire a man. My boss had to do that today. This was a man who was dragging things down for everyone; a man who thought himself untouchable.
I cannot argue with the reasons. If it was up to me, he probably would've been gone sooner. What saddened me more than the firing was the glee apparant in the bosses face; as if it was a goal scored, a prize won, a good piece of work...=30=
I cannot argue with the reasons. If it was up to me, he probably would've been gone sooner. What saddened me more than the firing was the glee apparant in the bosses face; as if it was a goal scored, a prize won, a good piece of work...=30=
Monday, June 07, 2004
New BlogJet release.
Of all of the sharware blog editors, so far, BlogJet is still in the lead. They have just issued an upgrade, upon which this post is being uploaded
&Last Comic Standing Rip Off
We just finished watching our TiVo'd version of last year's Last Comic Standing.
&
We, and I mean every member of this household, thought Dave Mordal was, without question, the funniest of the bunch. The third least funny of the ten, who I won't even give print time to here, won. In the wordage of Mr. Mordal, he was "disturbing."
&
Don't forget now. All of the above is in reaction to a carefully orchestrated TV reality show. Edited to cause particular reactions. It did a very good job of it. We were meant to dislike the four of the five losers. We were meant to like one. It all worked out.
&
Of the two finalist, the fatter was funnier. He used all original work. His hubris was his downfall. America likes the humble. The sympathy for the underdog, and in this case I do mean dog, won the day.
&
More power to him. I hope his hydrogen impaired star burns bright for as long as it can. =30=Dave MordalDave MordalDave MordalDave MordalDave MordalDave Mordal
&
We, and I mean every member of this household, thought Dave Mordal was, without question, the funniest of the bunch. The third least funny of the ten, who I won't even give print time to here, won. In the wordage of Mr. Mordal, he was "disturbing."
&
Don't forget now. All of the above is in reaction to a carefully orchestrated TV reality show. Edited to cause particular reactions. It did a very good job of it. We were meant to dislike the four of the five losers. We were meant to like one. It all worked out.
&
Of the two finalist, the fatter was funnier. He used all original work. His hubris was his downfall. America likes the humble. The sympathy for the underdog, and in this case I do mean dog, won the day.
&
More power to him. I hope his hydrogen impaired star burns bright for as long as it can. =30=Dave MordalDave MordalDave MordalDave MordalDave MordalDave Mordal
Just when I thought I was going to bed
I made the mistake/correct decision, to check a blog of interest. There I found the posting of another work of art by the author. If you haven't been to Boogie Street to see the work recommended earlier, Great North Run, you're missing something worth seeing. =30=
The Home of the Brave...
.......
Let's talk about wanting to grow up and have an adventurous life. Much of my youth was spent wandering the streets of lower Manhattan. I would have breakfast in a Greek diner, lunch in an Italian corner store and dinner at the home of many of my Asian friends. There was always a first generation Greek, Italian, or Chinese person doing the cooking.
.
I would talk to them about their coming to America. About what an adventure it was for them to leave what they knew and come to a place they had seen in movies and on TV. I had a lot of trouble seeing what they saw in America, or to be more accurate, Manhattan.
.
This was my hometown. Like any other kid, I found my hometown to be boring, nothing to do I hadn't done before.
I wanted to go someplace really interesting, like the Tahiti in Mutiny on the Bounty, (Clark Gable version.) I wanted to roam the dunes of North Africa, cut my way though the jungles of Tarzan, (2nd movie, if you've seen it, you know what I mean.)
I wanted to fight Nazis, gangsters, Gentleman Anybody. If I walked away with a black eye, or better yet, my arm in a sling, so much the better.
.
(I must write an entire piece on the Hollywood cure-all for all hero injuries, the arm in a sling, one of these days.)
.
In real life, I have fought gangsters, sailed on both the Atlantic and the Pacific. I have been in more than one jungle and just a few years ago, walked on the dunes of the Sahara.
.
In my one good boxing match I was knocked cold and am told flew through the air rather gracefully. The man that knocked me out wasn't much of a gentleman.
I have had bullets crack past my ears, (they don't whistle.) I have been stabbed, hit by cars and trucks. I suffered heat stroke in the swamps off the South Carolina Coast and while force marching in the Mohave Desert. I've walked away with a little more than a black eye and don't ever remember wearing a sling.
.
The point here is do I feel like I've had an adventurous life. So far, so good.
.
My latest adventure is working for Corporate America. If you think that bland; I have to tell you on Friday, I was required to attend a class on what to do when confronted with a suicide bomber. It was a gruesome and frank lesson; given by a former member of the Isreali security forces.
.
Perhaps today's Corporate America is a little more than an adventure than I thought it would be. Wish me luck. =30=
Let's talk about wanting to grow up and have an adventurous life. Much of my youth was spent wandering the streets of lower Manhattan. I would have breakfast in a Greek diner, lunch in an Italian corner store and dinner at the home of many of my Asian friends. There was always a first generation Greek, Italian, or Chinese person doing the cooking.
.
I would talk to them about their coming to America. About what an adventure it was for them to leave what they knew and come to a place they had seen in movies and on TV. I had a lot of trouble seeing what they saw in America, or to be more accurate, Manhattan.
.
This was my hometown. Like any other kid, I found my hometown to be boring, nothing to do I hadn't done before.
I wanted to go someplace really interesting, like the Tahiti in Mutiny on the Bounty, (Clark Gable version.) I wanted to roam the dunes of North Africa, cut my way though the jungles of Tarzan, (2nd movie, if you've seen it, you know what I mean.)
I wanted to fight Nazis, gangsters, Gentleman Anybody. If I walked away with a black eye, or better yet, my arm in a sling, so much the better.
.
(I must write an entire piece on the Hollywood cure-all for all hero injuries, the arm in a sling, one of these days.)
.
In real life, I have fought gangsters, sailed on both the Atlantic and the Pacific. I have been in more than one jungle and just a few years ago, walked on the dunes of the Sahara.
.
In my one good boxing match I was knocked cold and am told flew through the air rather gracefully. The man that knocked me out wasn't much of a gentleman.
I have had bullets crack past my ears, (they don't whistle.) I have been stabbed, hit by cars and trucks. I suffered heat stroke in the swamps off the South Carolina Coast and while force marching in the Mohave Desert. I've walked away with a little more than a black eye and don't ever remember wearing a sling.
.
The point here is do I feel like I've had an adventurous life. So far, so good.
.
My latest adventure is working for Corporate America. If you think that bland; I have to tell you on Friday, I was required to attend a class on what to do when confronted with a suicide bomber. It was a gruesome and frank lesson; given by a former member of the Isreali security forces.
.
Perhaps today's Corporate America is a little more than an adventure than I thought it would be. Wish me luck. =30=
Sunday, June 06, 2004
Highschool Graduation Day in Massachusetts
It is High School Graduation Day in many of the local towns. My Niece lives in one of the small towns south of Boston. They always have the ceremony out in the ball field. The stadium stands make a perfect place to deposit the family and friends. The fields surrounding the stage make a perfect romping area for the younger siblings and cousins.
For reasons I won't explore here, I was only able to attend the pre-graduation party. My son and I went home and left my wonder-of-a-wife to represent us.
She came home soaked to the bone and found our cat in a similar condition.
The wise people at the school decided not to move the ceremonies inside because it was only a light drizzle.
Perhaps it was because this is the 50th Anniversary of the Allies invasion of Europe. "Ike" made the decision to go ahead when faced with similar weather. All he had to do was move hundreds of thousands of men and tons and tonnes of equipment across a choppy bit of water. He didn't have to deal with soaked to the bone High School Seniors.
A quote from one of the girls, "I have trouble walking into the cafeteria. How can they expect me to walk up on that stage!!!?"
The anxiety in her voice was real. Her fear was real. Her friends laughed and pooh poohed her. To this she could only display a nervous smile. It would seem her fear of ridicule by her peers was momentarily more important than the stage fright suffered walking up the wet and slippery steps.
Of course this is a rite of passage. Of course most of the memories will be fond ones. We skipped out graduation out of protest back in The Sixties. We did a lot out of protest back then. Here I am more that thirty five years later wondering if I would have suffered stage fright. I'll never know. Oh, well... Okay, that feeling is gone. I don't do nostalgia very well. Probably a good thing. =30=
For reasons I won't explore here, I was only able to attend the pre-graduation party. My son and I went home and left my wonder-of-a-wife to represent us.
She came home soaked to the bone and found our cat in a similar condition.
The wise people at the school decided not to move the ceremonies inside because it was only a light drizzle.
Perhaps it was because this is the 50th Anniversary of the Allies invasion of Europe. "Ike" made the decision to go ahead when faced with similar weather. All he had to do was move hundreds of thousands of men and tons and tonnes of equipment across a choppy bit of water. He didn't have to deal with soaked to the bone High School Seniors.
A quote from one of the girls, "I have trouble walking into the cafeteria. How can they expect me to walk up on that stage!!!?"
The anxiety in her voice was real. Her fear was real. Her friends laughed and pooh poohed her. To this she could only display a nervous smile. It would seem her fear of ridicule by her peers was momentarily more important than the stage fright suffered walking up the wet and slippery steps.
Of course this is a rite of passage. Of course most of the memories will be fond ones. We skipped out graduation out of protest back in The Sixties. We did a lot out of protest back then. Here I am more that thirty five years later wondering if I would have suffered stage fright. I'll never know. Oh, well... Okay, that feeling is gone. I don't do nostalgia very well. Probably a good thing. =30=
Saturday, June 05, 2004
Go to the Boogie Street blog to see this painting: Great North Run (oil on canvas, 48 x 48 ins).
I could easily reproduce it here, but I never do that without the permission of the artist.
I could easily reproduce it here, but I never do that without the permission of the artist.
DON'T WATCH THE TRAILER
Whatever you do, don't watch the trailer at the Official Harry Potter website. It gives away one of THE best moments in the film. I am so glad I waited to watch it until after viewing the film. The bastards! It was one of the moments the audience applauded. I am sure, the ones that didn't break out clapping had been contaminated by this evil trailer.
You can, of course, watch it after you see the film. That bit was fun, like the good aftertaste of rich chocolate pudding. =30=
You can, of course, watch it after you see the film. That bit was fun, like the good aftertaste of rich chocolate pudding. =30=
"Okay, Oh! Wow!
The best review for the latest Harry Potter flik came directly from my son's lips when the lights went up and the credits began to roll: "Okay...Oh! Wow!" It was a spectacular film and a dark film. Not dark like the forest with spiders and the creature sucking the blood of the shining unicorn. It was dark like "these are the times that try men's souls" dark.
Another indication of a very good movie was the spontaneous applause at the end, as well as several times during the film.
We no longer had to be overcome by the wonder of it all. The realty of Hogwarts and Muggles etc. is now excepted fact in our culture. There was an entire family sitting down near the front dressed as Hogwarts teachers and members of the Hogwarts Quiditch team. No one gave them a second look.
It was a fun time and I hope everyone in the world finds two and a half hours out of their dreary lives and goes to Hogwarts for a ripping good time.=30=
Harry Potter, tonight
I am being brought out to see Harry Potter III tonight. I'll write my review when I get back. Don't hold your breath, I may be too tired. If you would rather go to a blog that takes itself very seriously, you should try Smart Mobs.=30=
The adventure in blog creation software continues. This entry is being created by Broadcast Builder 1.48. It was downloaded from SnapFiles.com, a good source for just about any kind of software.
The trick here is to see if it will publish a picture. That's a drawback in the other programs. The pictures have to be ftp's and and then a img ref needs to be written into the HTML. The Flash Demo on this product says it will upload the image for web view. We shall see.
Broadcast Builder has a "Wizard" to take you through the more simplistic steps of creating a blog. It is a wizard designed for idiots. This is a good thing. When I write "Idiots" of course I mean the typr for which books that begin with "The Idiots Guide to..."
Catastrophic Failure...ooooOOoooh!
Now that's an error message that gets your attention: Catastrophic Failure. Whoa! It is certain to increase your blood pressure. This happened while I was evaluating a program called Broadcast Builder vs. 1.48. I am sure it's something I did wrong in the set up, but boy! What an error message. So, I'll dive back into the setup and let you know when I come back how well it works for me.
Ah, HA! A BlogJet advantage.
I have been trying to find reasons that BlogJet costs money with :bloggar: is free. I think I just found it. BlogJen easily switches from one online service to another, while :bloggar: does this, the method is clumsy. SLEEP TIME!!!
This on is blogbuddy. No subject line. I think having no subject line takes this interface and throws it out the window, XP that is... =30=
Friday, June 04, 2004
LiveJournal?? Do they make it hard on purpose?
Being new to this activity, I have been looking at the other blog sites. Testing the water here and there with differing versions of titles containing versions. I tried the "LiveJournal" site. I found their interface to be THE most confusing of any I've seen yet.
First, they make you go through a sign-on procedure that would make Harry Potter wince in all its mystery. Then, when you are finally verified, there is no clear interface for creating even the first blog entry. The edit page link is buried in a FAQ. It's not a FAQ on the opening page, not even a link on any set page, logical pages, like the one to manage the account. It's a FAQ link, way down on the third page of a FAQ about "communities, whatever the hey that is.
Then there's the emoticoms...Good Lord! Was this site designed by a thirteen year old with right brain disfunction?
I don't think you'll see me back there, anytime soon. I hope the "Community" can go in without me...=30=
Monthly Report
At work, (work that pays that is,) we have a monthly report due. It is where we explain to the people who sign our checks what we did to justify the oodles of cash that trickles down. When I was lower down in the food chain, I had a daily report. It is hard to believe, but twenty five daily reports are much easier than one monthly report.
+
The point is, I thought I would do a monthly report about what isn't done "for" a living, but just to live. It is hoped that the later far exceeds the first in effort and resulting satisfaction. I know the general life instruction to find something you like and then figure a way to get paid for it. It is good as a general rule. In a way, I had done that.
+
It was that evil trap of agreeing to manage a group of others who also do what they like. Soon the doing falls by the wayside and the managing becomes a thing in and of itself. Managing isn't work. It is seeing that work gets done, that results are achieved and goals met. All of those are not tangible things. They are ideas. You can't eat ideas. You can't hang an idea up on a wall and admire it. You can admire the statement of Direct Deposit, and the food, shelter and clothing it represents.
+
The point here is to figure how this monthly report will appear. When I do, I'll let you know. In a month or two..
+
The point is, I thought I would do a monthly report about what isn't done "for" a living, but just to live. It is hoped that the later far exceeds the first in effort and resulting satisfaction. I know the general life instruction to find something you like and then figure a way to get paid for it. It is good as a general rule. In a way, I had done that.
+
It was that evil trap of agreeing to manage a group of others who also do what they like. Soon the doing falls by the wayside and the managing becomes a thing in and of itself. Managing isn't work. It is seeing that work gets done, that results are achieved and goals met. All of those are not tangible things. They are ideas. You can't eat ideas. You can't hang an idea up on a wall and admire it. You can admire the statement of Direct Deposit, and the food, shelter and clothing it represents.
+
The point here is to figure how this monthly report will appear. When I do, I'll let you know. In a month or two..
Thursday, June 03, 2004
Circumstances will curtail my constant graffiti starting tomorrow. It's a gelt thing. Roof over head, food on table, clothes on back, broadband connection, you know, the essentials of life.
The breaking of the 24th and perhaps the 25th bone in my life gave me a short respite from the daily grind for a bit. The holiday will be over at 0800 tomorrow.
Before I return to that awful thing called the morning commute, I thought I would jot down a few thoughts about my grand tour of Blog-land
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For one, it was fun to go someplace I had only really seen in postal cards. Even if it's just part of the Virtual Reality that has so overwhelmed our lives, it is still a 'place' in the mind.
As with most trips to foreign lands, I pondered first what brought the people here and then what made them stay.
-----------------.
Before seeing the Sarhara, I could never understand why people would live there. Once I had the chance to visit, to spend a few days there, I can't say I fully understand, but I can say I've seen how magnificent it is, how alluring and oddly enough, romantic it is.
The same can be said about California, both Northern and Southern. They are two different worlds. I've lived in both and prefer the Northern region.
-----------------.
Before the web was open to public grazing, I SysOp'ed a BBS out of Marin County. A place where you could post one message at a time using a 1200 bps modem. If no technological advances were made, if the web had not been opened, I might still be doing it.
-----------------.
Once the web was opened, I jumped right in, learned HTML and put together a small holding of websites and domains. This was before the bubble burst, the one that our older relatives, the ones who had lived through the Great Depression, warned would happen.
It was then I was lured into the world of Corporate America.
-----------------.
I now work for one of the richest companies in the world. The word Trillion is not foreign to these people. There too, it is a visit to a foreign place. I am enjoying it, but miss my adopted home on the web.
This blog is a letter home, a way to keep in touch with virtual friends and virtual family. It's a way to scribble graffiti on the door to the bathroom stall in school, it's a way to be part of publishing the school newspaper, but on a much grander and at the same time more intimate scale.
-----------------.
The graffiti and the school newspaper where for a limited audience. Though no restraint of content was put over your scribbling on the wall, there was the limit of time and scale. For something like a school newspaper, you have the larger scale, the larger audience, but still there were editorial and social restrictions, as well, again, the limit in time and space.
Here on a blog, the limit is how long your fingers can make sense out of the keyboard and the size of the storage device hosting the blog. I let you know when I've reached either limit.
=30=
The breaking of the 24th and perhaps the 25th bone in my life gave me a short respite from the daily grind for a bit. The holiday will be over at 0800 tomorrow.
Before I return to that awful thing called the morning commute, I thought I would jot down a few thoughts about my grand tour of Blog-land
-----------------.
For one, it was fun to go someplace I had only really seen in postal cards. Even if it's just part of the Virtual Reality that has so overwhelmed our lives, it is still a 'place' in the mind.
As with most trips to foreign lands, I pondered first what brought the people here and then what made them stay.
-----------------.
Before seeing the Sarhara, I could never understand why people would live there. Once I had the chance to visit, to spend a few days there, I can't say I fully understand, but I can say I've seen how magnificent it is, how alluring and oddly enough, romantic it is.
The same can be said about California, both Northern and Southern. They are two different worlds. I've lived in both and prefer the Northern region.
-----------------.
Before the web was open to public grazing, I SysOp'ed a BBS out of Marin County. A place where you could post one message at a time using a 1200 bps modem. If no technological advances were made, if the web had not been opened, I might still be doing it.
-----------------.
Once the web was opened, I jumped right in, learned HTML and put together a small holding of websites and domains. This was before the bubble burst, the one that our older relatives, the ones who had lived through the Great Depression, warned would happen.
It was then I was lured into the world of Corporate America.
-----------------.
I now work for one of the richest companies in the world. The word Trillion is not foreign to these people. There too, it is a visit to a foreign place. I am enjoying it, but miss my adopted home on the web.
This blog is a letter home, a way to keep in touch with virtual friends and virtual family. It's a way to scribble graffiti on the door to the bathroom stall in school, it's a way to be part of publishing the school newspaper, but on a much grander and at the same time more intimate scale.
-----------------.
The graffiti and the school newspaper where for a limited audience. Though no restraint of content was put over your scribbling on the wall, there was the limit of time and scale. For something like a school newspaper, you have the larger scale, the larger audience, but still there were editorial and social restrictions, as well, again, the limit in time and space.
Here on a blog, the limit is how long your fingers can make sense out of the keyboard and the size of the storage device hosting the blog. I let you know when I've reached either limit.
=30=
Wednesday, June 02, 2004
What's with this Yankees Suck thing in Boston
I have been in Boston for a while. We came here from Vermont by way of Marin County in Northern California. I have been in every state in The Union. It has been my experience that the New York Yankees are not well liked in "the rest" of the country.
However, in Boston it has become a mania, if not a disease to hate the Bronx Bombers.
There are "YANKEES SUCK" bumper stickers, signs, even tattoos at the part of a woman's back that should be covered by their jeans but it not.
I have been part of several conversations in Boston where it was explained to me why the Yankees are in this condition.
None of them seem to have anything to do with the Yankees themselves. It has to do with the way Boston feels about how their American League team, the Red Sox are always bested by them in the Pennant Race. It seems for many years, the Red Sox have come in second. Not since near the end of the Great War in Europe, that being called WWI around here, have the Boston Red Sox surpassed the Yankees in the World Series.
The obvious solution is to move the teams into two different competing areas. That way they won't loose their "edge" by having to constantly look up from the road and see a pin striped behind trudging ahead of them.
The kicker of this mania manifested itself at the celebration of the first Superbowl win of the New England Patriots in Boston. One of the team mates, holding the trophy got up to speak to the crowd, to thank them for their support and promise another trophy in the near future. All he could say was "YANKEES SUCK!"
The two teams don't even play in the same sport! The crowd reflexively roared in response for a moment or two. They then realized this had nothing to do with what they were there to celebrate and went on with the business of mob celebratory behavior.
If you expected something about the Yankees winning so many world series, pennants and all of the other baseball related trophies, it's a beaten path and there is always Google to get the facts, or as they are related on the Intenet.
However, in Boston it has become a mania, if not a disease to hate the Bronx Bombers.
There are "YANKEES SUCK" bumper stickers, signs, even tattoos at the part of a woman's back that should be covered by their jeans but it not.
I have been part of several conversations in Boston where it was explained to me why the Yankees are in this condition.
None of them seem to have anything to do with the Yankees themselves. It has to do with the way Boston feels about how their American League team, the Red Sox are always bested by them in the Pennant Race. It seems for many years, the Red Sox have come in second. Not since near the end of the Great War in Europe, that being called WWI around here, have the Boston Red Sox surpassed the Yankees in the World Series.
The obvious solution is to move the teams into two different competing areas. That way they won't loose their "edge" by having to constantly look up from the road and see a pin striped behind trudging ahead of them.
The kicker of this mania manifested itself at the celebration of the first Superbowl win of the New England Patriots in Boston. One of the team mates, holding the trophy got up to speak to the crowd, to thank them for their support and promise another trophy in the near future. All he could say was "YANKEES SUCK!"
The two teams don't even play in the same sport! The crowd reflexively roared in response for a moment or two. They then realized this had nothing to do with what they were there to celebrate and went on with the business of mob celebratory behavior.
If you expected something about the Yankees winning so many world series, pennants and all of the other baseball related trophies, it's a beaten path and there is always Google to get the facts, or as they are related on the Intenet.
SO MANY NEWSPAPERS, SO LONG AGO...
There was the Sun. There was the Mirror. There was The World. There was the Telegram. There was The Daily News. There was The Journal. There was The New York Times. There was The Post. There was The American. There was the Herald. There was The Tribune.
Then the Mirror just died. The World became The World Telegram. The Journal became the Journal American. The Herald became The Herald Tribune. Then the Sun became The World Telegram & Sun. The Journal American died. The World Telegram & Sun died. They say the unions killed them. I say it was TV. Or Walter Winchell, or both...
The Herald Tribune moved to Paris. If you ever read the Herald Tribune you could see why. The French deserve them.
Now there's the NY TIMES, called NYT by some. That's like Kentucky Fried Chicken becoming KFC. The Daily News is still around as is the Post. Newsday is a Long Island paper that is sold in Manhattan candy stores and newstands.
When I return to Boston I will have the Globe. I know the Globe belongs to NYT, so it might soon become just TG, but that's okay. It has comics. NYT, except on the web, doesn't.
Though I truly enjoyed the papers in my youth on that small island on the Atlantic coast, I see little use for them. I felt privileged when a relative would return from the UK with The Times, or The Manchester Guardian in their luggage. Though the papers where days old, I still enjoyed reading them.
It was like visiting another country.
Now The Times website looks and feels pretty much like the BBC world site. (Don't even let me get into shortwave radio.) They all look like CNN. Soon, I believe the entire world is going to look like CNN.
Do any of you remember when CNN started? The newsreaders all had the big hair, I mean the men now, and poorly tailored jackets then common in The South. For that is really what it was, an Atlanta based news program that could now be seen in homes all around the country, that had cable.
Now it's the daily diet of diacritic despots and tea salesmen alike. With satellite, even the windows of the houses lining the narrow streets of Fes bloom satellite dishes from one end of the ancient city to the other. =30= (Coming soon: What's with this Yankee Suck thing in Boston?
Then the Mirror just died. The World became The World Telegram. The Journal became the Journal American. The Herald became The Herald Tribune. Then the Sun became The World Telegram & Sun. The Journal American died. The World Telegram & Sun died. They say the unions killed them. I say it was TV. Or Walter Winchell, or both...
The Herald Tribune moved to Paris. If you ever read the Herald Tribune you could see why. The French deserve them.
Now there's the NY TIMES, called NYT by some. That's like Kentucky Fried Chicken becoming KFC. The Daily News is still around as is the Post. Newsday is a Long Island paper that is sold in Manhattan candy stores and newstands.
When I return to Boston I will have the Globe. I know the Globe belongs to NYT, so it might soon become just TG, but that's okay. It has comics. NYT, except on the web, doesn't.
Though I truly enjoyed the papers in my youth on that small island on the Atlantic coast, I see little use for them. I felt privileged when a relative would return from the UK with The Times, or The Manchester Guardian in their luggage. Though the papers where days old, I still enjoyed reading them.
It was like visiting another country.
Now The Times website looks and feels pretty much like the BBC world site. (Don't even let me get into shortwave radio.) They all look like CNN. Soon, I believe the entire world is going to look like CNN.
Do any of you remember when CNN started? The newsreaders all had the big hair, I mean the men now, and poorly tailored jackets then common in The South. For that is really what it was, an Atlanta based news program that could now be seen in homes all around the country, that had cable.
Now it's the daily diet of diacritic despots and tea salesmen alike. With satellite, even the windows of the houses lining the narrow streets of Fes bloom satellite dishes from one end of the ancient city to the other. =30= (Coming soon: What's with this Yankee Suck thing in Boston?
Below is a story going around the email humor circuit. Three of my friends have sent it to me. They must be trying to tell me something.
I do not know the original author.
If anyone reads this and knows, I will gladly give credit where credit is due.
I am posting this as a back up to my entry about losing Tuesday.
Recently, I was diagnosed with A. A. A. D. D.
that is: Age Activated Attention Deficit Disorder.
This is how it manifests:
I decide to wash my car.
As I start toward the garage, I notice that there is mail on the hall
table.
I decide to go through the mail before I wash the car.
I lay my car keys down on the table, put the junk mail in the trash
can under the table, and notice that the trash can is full.
So, I decide to put the bills back on the table and take out the
trash first.
But then I think, since I'm going to be near the mailbox when I take
out the trash anyway, I may as well pay the bills first.
I take my checkbook off the table, and see that there is only one
check left
My extra checks are in my desk in the study, so I go to my desk where
I find the can of Coke that I had been drinking.
I'm going to look for my checks, but first I need to push the Coke
aside so that I don't accidentally knock it over.
I see that the Coke is getting warm, and I decide I should put it in
the refrigerator to keep it cold.
As I head toward the kitchen with the coke a vase of flowers on the
counter catches my eye-they need to be watered.
I set the Coke down on the counter, and I discover my reading glasses
that I've been searching for all morning.
I decide I better put them back on my desk, but first I'm going to
water the flowers.
I set the glasses back down on the counter, fill a container with
waterand suddenly I spot the TV remote someone left it on the kitchen table.
I realize that tonight when we go to watch TV, I will be looking for
the remote, but I won't remember that it's on the kitchen table,
so I decide to put it back in the den where it belongs, but first I'll
water the flowers.
I splash some water on the flowers, but most of it spills on the
floor.
So, I set the remote back down on the table, get some towels and wipe
up the spill.
Then I head down the hall trying to remember what I was planning to
do.
At the end of the day:
The car isn't washed, the bills aren't paid,
there is a warm can of Coke sitting on the counter,
the flowers aren't watered,
there is still only one check in my checkbook,
I can't find the remote, I can't find my glasses, and I don't remember
what I did with the car keys.
When I try to figure out why nothing got done today,
I'm really baffled because I know I was busy all day long, and I'm
really tired.
I realize this is a serious problem, and I'll try to get some help
for it, but first I'll just check my e-mail.
Do me a favor, will you? Forward this message to everyone you know,
because I have no idea to whom it has already been sent.
Don't laugh! If this isn't you yet, your day is coming!
GROWING OLD IS MANDATORY
GROWINGUP IS OPTIONAL.
I do not know the original author.
If anyone reads this and knows, I will gladly give credit where credit is due.
I am posting this as a back up to my entry about losing Tuesday.
Recently, I was diagnosed with A. A. A. D. D.
that is: Age Activated Attention Deficit Disorder.
This is how it manifests:
I decide to wash my car.
As I start toward the garage, I notice that there is mail on the hall
table.
I decide to go through the mail before I wash the car.
I lay my car keys down on the table, put the junk mail in the trash
can under the table, and notice that the trash can is full.
So, I decide to put the bills back on the table and take out the
trash first.
But then I think, since I'm going to be near the mailbox when I take
out the trash anyway, I may as well pay the bills first.
I take my checkbook off the table, and see that there is only one
check left
My extra checks are in my desk in the study, so I go to my desk where
I find the can of Coke that I had been drinking.
I'm going to look for my checks, but first I need to push the Coke
aside so that I don't accidentally knock it over.
I see that the Coke is getting warm, and I decide I should put it in
the refrigerator to keep it cold.
As I head toward the kitchen with the coke a vase of flowers on the
counter catches my eye-they need to be watered.
I set the Coke down on the counter, and I discover my reading glasses
that I've been searching for all morning.
I decide I better put them back on my desk, but first I'm going to
water the flowers.
I set the glasses back down on the counter, fill a container with
waterand suddenly I spot the TV remote someone left it on the kitchen table.
I realize that tonight when we go to watch TV, I will be looking for
the remote, but I won't remember that it's on the kitchen table,
so I decide to put it back in the den where it belongs, but first I'll
water the flowers.
I splash some water on the flowers, but most of it spills on the
floor.
So, I set the remote back down on the table, get some towels and wipe
up the spill.
Then I head down the hall trying to remember what I was planning to
do.
At the end of the day:
The car isn't washed, the bills aren't paid,
there is a warm can of Coke sitting on the counter,
the flowers aren't watered,
there is still only one check in my checkbook,
I can't find the remote, I can't find my glasses, and I don't remember
what I did with the car keys.
When I try to figure out why nothing got done today,
I'm really baffled because I know I was busy all day long, and I'm
really tired.
I realize this is a serious problem, and I'll try to get some help
for it, but first I'll just check my e-mail.
Do me a favor, will you? Forward this message to everyone you know,
because I have no idea to whom it has already been sent.
Don't laugh! If this isn't you yet, your day is coming!
GROWING OLD IS MANDATORY
GROWINGUP IS OPTIONAL.
The BlogThis! entries below
This entry is being created by w.bloggar.exe.
The BlogThis! utility is quite minimal. Its's no more than email entry really. It has no design functions readily visible.
I am sure if you hit some obscure undocumented key like Ctrl Shift F8 or something like that, a magnificent array of functions will pop up. Nothing obvious to those of us with a maximum attention span of about four minutes, if gentle music is playing.
..............
The BlogThis! utility is quite minimal. Its's no more than email entry really. It has no design functions readily visible.
I am sure if you hit some obscure undocumented key like Ctrl Shift F8 or something like that, a magnificent array of functions will pop up. Nothing obvious to those of us with a maximum attention span of about four minutes, if gentle music is playing.
..............
The post just below this just happened!!!
Blogger Help : What is BlogThis! ? That is a good question. I clicked on it and all of sudden I had a new post with a topic asking that question. It should be the post directly below this. So, if you find an entry on your blog that looks like the one directly below this, it was stealthily created by BlogThis, a utility that comes with the Blogger.com account.
Not A Commercial Posting!
The last post with all of the links to coffee discounters and NOT-discounters was not a commercial post.
Except through personal consumption of the tea, I am not associated with either Starbucks or Coffeeforless.com. I was just playing with w.bloggar's easy linking and graphic upload utility.
You may consider this and the last blog an endorsement of all of the products mentioned. This is freely made with no expectation of compensation.
Can you tell I hang around a lot of lawyers?
Except through personal consumption of the tea, I am not associated with either Starbucks or Coffeeforless.com. I was just playing with w.bloggar's easy linking and graphic upload utility.
You may consider this and the last blog an endorsement of all of the products mentioned. This is freely made with no expectation of compensation.
Can you tell I hang around a lot of lawyers?
Where did Tuesday go?
I swear it was here a moment ago. I looked up at my Palm V sitting in its charger next to the laptop, displaying the date, calendar and time-(using v.2.8 of BigClock,) and I notice it isn't Tuesday any more.
If you've ever had a day start early and zip by, then you know how I feel at the moment. I was up at 0520 this morning. Now it's almost 0125 the next day. I swear, it seems like a moment ago I placed my steaming cup of Awake down next to me. Now there sits an empty white mug with the leavnings of tea no more that a dry brown stain at its bottom.
Mentioning Awake above reminded me to reload my Starbucks card.
I wouldn't want to walk into the hole-in-wall Starbucks on Winter Street and not have my card charged.
There was a paragraph here bemoaning today's culture, but it sounded too much like most of the complaining on blogs these days, so I deleted. You can thank me later, over a cup of Awake!!! =30=
If you've ever had a day start early and zip by, then you know how I feel at the moment. I was up at 0520 this morning. Now it's almost 0125 the next day. I swear, it seems like a moment ago I placed my steaming cup of Awake down next to me. Now there sits an empty white mug with the leavnings of tea no more that a dry brown stain at its bottom.
Mentioning Awake above reminded me to reload my Starbucks card.
I wouldn't want to walk into the hole-in-wall Starbucks on Winter Street and not have my card charged.
There was a paragraph here bemoaning today's culture, but it sounded too much like most of the complaining on blogs these days, so I deleted. You can thank me later, over a cup of Awake!!! =30=
Tuesday, June 01, 2004
The Holiday is Over
It was a nice Whitsun , (whoops, went ethnic there,) I mean to say Memorial Day Weekend. Now it's a rainy day Tuesday. I am looking out my office window at the rain swept streets and humming Simon & Garfield songs relating to weather.
I'd like to mention the Abilon program again. It was just too much, too soon and in the words of that kind cartoonist, my brain was quickly full. This is not to say the program was in any way defective. On the contrary, it was too good.
It's the War and Peace of online information tools. Or, perhaps it just seemed that way at first when it pulled in so much information so quickly.
They rebuilt the 2-bit, literally, computer used by the British to crack the German code during WW II. It could do over 4000 computations a minute. The 64 bit AMD processor with 1Mb of onboard cache can do many million a second. What's in store for us tomorrow?
When I was a kid, growing up in the middle of the last century, on a small 14 mile long island on the Atlantic Coast, we had five television stations, three morning papers, three afternoon papers and four evening papers.
The radio was made of wood and played only AM. There was one phone in the house, in the hall on the telephone table. It was rarely used. If someone had something to say to you, they came over, knocked on your door and told it to your face. Or they sent the youngest of the brood over to convey the message.
We thought we were the communication capital of the world. We were, back then. Now the world has no communication captial.
When I sent an email from a cybercafe in a small roadside cafe in the remote hills of Morocco to my wife in Cape Cod, I knew the days of one phone in the hall were like the days of listening as the Morse code keys at the railroad station report the news of Lincoln's assassination to the world. Gone.
This is not a case of nostalgia, but a case of wonder at it all. A desire to dive right in and take it all in one fell swoop. That is, until I have to raise my hand to the teacher, like the small headed boy in the cartoon and ask to go home because my brain is full. =30=
Going to sleep...
I have turned off my Opera. All is about to go to
sleep because I have set my ClocX 1.5 to turn off the computer
in fifteen minutes. But there was this program Albilon 2.0 Build
158 sitting in my tray. I should have right-clicked it and turned
it off, but, again, noooOOooo. The left click finger won once again.
I am not fully sure what this program does. It has this simple editor
included, or it can default to w.blogger. If I decide to use it again, it
will be set for w.blogger. I'll now read the FM in peace and leave the
blogging for another day. =30=
BlogJet vs. w.bloggar...hmm one free the other almost $20.00...
You would think, after playing at this for over 6 hours, I'd give it up.
No! Just as I was about to turn off the labtop, I noticed one more tag on the top of my Opera screen.
It was for this program called BlogJet.
Instead of a freeware program like w.bloggar, this is a shareware program with a going price of $19.95. Thought I would take it out for a spin before retiring. More on it tomorrow.
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