I love hearing good stories about defeating scammers, and this is no exception:
The Powerbook Prank
There's other stuff that's good on zug.com, but this one is epic and international, too.
29 March 2007
28 March 2007
The legend of Skrunchy Girl!
Having gone to school in Portland during the build up to the '94 Olympics in Lillehammer including trips to the Clackamas Town Center to see Ms. Harding "practice" as she bullied the ice into submission, this article is amazing, disturbing, and, well.....visit The Phat Phree for more details.
Then be sickened by this *ahem* fan-site. Actually, the rejects are pretty damn funny...
Same with this other story from The Phat Phree.... which includes the following section:
GETTING WOOD IN PUBLIC - You really need to sharpen your number 2 pencil for this test, but for some reason right before you got up to do it, the thought of a pencil being thrust into the hole of the sharpener, then being hand-cranked and gyrated upon until it reaches its pinnacle is too much for you to bear. Now you're popping a Teepee big enough to fit a whole family of Cherokee Indians in it and you're going to fail your test on Native American history.
Gotta love tha wood!
19 March 2007
Tel Aviv after the fact, Post #2
Meat Celebration!
Yes, that's right, Meat Celebration! On the last night in Tel Aviv, my co-workers and I went to a place called Banar near the Shalom Tower (formerly the tallest building in Tel Aviv and a place of many suicides, according to the locals). This was a grand adventure as we were unaccompanied by anyone who spoke Hebrew, so any trouble we got in would be our own. A good percentage of the population of Tel Aviv speaks English, so this usually isn't an issue.....until you have to read a menu.
When you go into a restaurant in Israel, sometimes saying "Anglit?" (English) will transform the menu into something that's read from left to right and often a few Shekels (Sheqalim is how it's written in English on the paper currency) higher in price than it is in Hebrew. Sometimes such luxuries aren't available, like in the Hummus shops or other counter-service places which have great food and are run by people who barely speak Hebrew and enjoy that Arabic is the other official language of Israel. At Banar, a regular restaurant with bar, tables, and comely waitstaff, the English menu was a flight of fancy.
However, the folks at Banar were more than happy to translate the menu once the ground rules had been established: "You do understand this is a....meat restaurant?" said the polite and attractive hostess, taking over from the bartendress who spoke English reasonably well, but lacked a Hebrew-English vocabulary to describe cuts of beef large enough to pacify lions. We all nodded that a meat restaurant was acceptable (I figured that we were in for something along these lines as the sign had a bull icon of some sort on it). She could have said that it was a boiled Kleenex restaurant and it might have been just as entrancing for some in my group, but, no, it was all about the meat. The hostess went through the side dishes which were pretty standard fare: arab salad(tomato, cucumber, and dill), green salad, antipasti, and tomato soup. As she went through the selections for the main course, however, the attention span extended by leaps and bounds.
"There is an entrecotte steak which is juicy, a premium entrecotte steak which is leaner and more tender, and then <some words I don't recall> which is from the flank and is also good. Each is per 100g and most cuts are 250-300g. The last one is called....hmmm....<pausing to think of the words> Meat Celebration."
"Meat Celebration? Please tell us more!" we all say in pseudo-harmony.
"It is a plate of all the meat I mentioned plus ground lamb...."
Quick exchanges of glances show quick approval from the group about the direction of the meal: "Great! We'll take 4 of them!"
"It is for 4 people, so you might only want one."
"How much do we get of each?"
"It's like....hmm...400g per person."
"SOLD!"
From there, the minor trivialities of side-dishes and beverages were dispensed and the focus squarely turned to the impending celebration of MEAT. In the interim, the owner came by and gave us each a shot of Stolichnaya on the house. Apparently, this is standard behavior in restaurants in Tel Aviv, although it was the only time it happened to us -- and we were without our local guides! We got another round of shots as we were processing the incredible pile of animal protein that was presented before us.....on 2 plates!
Needless to say, we all slept well that evening, most likely because our spleens emptied their contents and shot all the extra blood over to our stomachs. The blissful state of being logy is wonderful when induced by meat.
Apparently Leonardo DiCaprio and his Israeli model/girlfriend Raffy something-or-other were at the sushi restaurant across the way, but we didn't see them. Honestly, there wasn't anything that would tear me away from the Meat Celebration.
I understood how Harold and Kumar felt in Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle when they completed their journey and polished off all the Sliders and Cokes. I wasn't stoned, either.
Yes, that's right, Meat Celebration! On the last night in Tel Aviv, my co-workers and I went to a place called Banar near the Shalom Tower (formerly the tallest building in Tel Aviv and a place of many suicides, according to the locals). This was a grand adventure as we were unaccompanied by anyone who spoke Hebrew, so any trouble we got in would be our own. A good percentage of the population of Tel Aviv speaks English, so this usually isn't an issue.....until you have to read a menu.
When you go into a restaurant in Israel, sometimes saying "Anglit?" (English) will transform the menu into something that's read from left to right and often a few Shekels (Sheqalim is how it's written in English on the paper currency) higher in price than it is in Hebrew. Sometimes such luxuries aren't available, like in the Hummus shops or other counter-service places which have great food and are run by people who barely speak Hebrew and enjoy that Arabic is the other official language of Israel. At Banar, a regular restaurant with bar, tables, and comely waitstaff, the English menu was a flight of fancy.
However, the folks at Banar were more than happy to translate the menu once the ground rules had been established: "You do understand this is a....meat restaurant?" said the polite and attractive hostess, taking over from the bartendress who spoke English reasonably well, but lacked a Hebrew-English vocabulary to describe cuts of beef large enough to pacify lions. We all nodded that a meat restaurant was acceptable (I figured that we were in for something along these lines as the sign had a bull icon of some sort on it). She could have said that it was a boiled Kleenex restaurant and it might have been just as entrancing for some in my group, but, no, it was all about the meat. The hostess went through the side dishes which were pretty standard fare: arab salad(tomato, cucumber, and dill), green salad, antipasti, and tomato soup. As she went through the selections for the main course, however, the attention span extended by leaps and bounds.
"There is an entrecotte steak which is juicy, a premium entrecotte steak which is leaner and more tender, and then <some words I don't recall> which is from the flank and is also good. Each is per 100g and most cuts are 250-300g. The last one is called....hmmm....<pausing to think of the words> Meat Celebration."
"Meat Celebration? Please tell us more!" we all say in pseudo-harmony.
"It is a plate of all the meat I mentioned plus ground lamb...."
Quick exchanges of glances show quick approval from the group about the direction of the meal: "Great! We'll take 4 of them!"
"It is for 4 people, so you might only want one."
"How much do we get of each?"
"It's like....hmm...400g per person."
"SOLD!"
From there, the minor trivialities of side-dishes and beverages were dispensed and the focus squarely turned to the impending celebration of MEAT. In the interim, the owner came by and gave us each a shot of Stolichnaya on the house. Apparently, this is standard behavior in restaurants in Tel Aviv, although it was the only time it happened to us -- and we were without our local guides! We got another round of shots as we were processing the incredible pile of animal protein that was presented before us.....on 2 plates!
Needless to say, we all slept well that evening, most likely because our spleens emptied their contents and shot all the extra blood over to our stomachs. The blissful state of being logy is wonderful when induced by meat.
Apparently Leonardo DiCaprio and his Israeli model/girlfriend Raffy something-or-other were at the sushi restaurant across the way, but we didn't see them. Honestly, there wasn't anything that would tear me away from the Meat Celebration.
I understood how Harold and Kumar felt in Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle when they completed their journey and polished off all the Sliders and Cokes. I wasn't stoned, either.
16 March 2007
Tel Aviv trip report #1 (after the fact)
So I was too damn busy working and drinking in Tel Aviv to do any sort of punctual postings. D'oh!
The daily routine went something like this:
Being here sucks.
Traveling = fine. Home = fine.
Purgatorial limbo known as Newark != fine.
The daily routine went something like this:
- Wake up somewhere between 8 and 10, depending on the previous night.
- Shower, eat breakfast, and be amazed at the amount of bread the French tourists would get for themselves (the stacks were probably 12" high).
- Catch a cab to the office in Ramat Gan.
- Be scared by some aspect of the cab ride/driver, either due to incidents of driving by braille in close quartered traffic or drivers singing and accosting random people for directions to the place I wanted to go after calling into the dispatch and getting laughed at for asking such a question.
- Training.
- Lunch. Mmmm. Yummy, government subsidized lunch.
- Training and practical exercises until about 8pm.
- Go back to hotel to "freshen up".
- Meet at 2130 to go eat.
- Find bars and consume disturbing amounts of alcohol. Enjoy until 0200-0400.
- Get food/water on the way home.
- Sleep some.
- Repeat routine, saving 2 nights for recovery.
Being here sucks.
Traveling = fine. Home = fine.
Purgatorial limbo known as Newark != fine.
10 March 2007
Definitely (in)Continental
The saga of Continental continued after the last post.
Apparently Continental had some "mechanical" issue that kept the 777 from leaving LAX to get to Newark. From the sounds of things and what my Dad was able to find out, they apparently didn't have a crew available to fly the beast, so all of us going to Tel Aviv got to stay in Newark for an additional 8 hours.
They did give us all rooms at the Ramada....at the end of runway 15L. I fell asleep to the sounds of Continental Connection turboprops and other such aircraft taking off right over my room. Granted, by the time I got there, I was totally exhausted, so I didn't hear too many of the planes take off. 3.5 hours of sleep later, I was ready to go back to the terminal. Fortunately, security lines were short at 5 AM. Unfortunately, Continental couldn't get its act together so we ended up with a wheels-up time 9.5 hours later than scheduled.
On the upside, I made the acquaintance of a couple of people which helped the waiting along. One was a model whose first name was Mala. She's married to a basketball player on the team that plays in Ramat Gan here in Tel Aviv. She was from St. Maarten and now lives in Tel Aviv between here modeling shoots. Apparently she does all sorts of catalog shots for Macy's and the like. She said she did one for Cintas, the uniform company, where they wanted it to have a "sexy" feel, "like Victoria's Secret, " except in uniforms....guess that'll be the most popular catalog among the janitorial services this year.
There was another couple who were headed to Delhi and had missed their connection by 30 minutes, having sat on the ground in Rochester for 4 hours. They said that the flight was only 30 minutes long, too. Unfortunately for them, there's only 1 flight a day to Delhi, so they were stuck in the "greater"(that word just does not fit when I think of the city) Newark area for an additional 23.5 hours. Both were grad students; the woman was from India and her boyfriend kept trying to explain how airlines routinely oversold flights to which she responded "How can they sell something they don't have?" I mentioned it wasn't much different than the press-release driven vaporware companies of the .com era, but that was of little consolation, although they both did understand what I meant. I ended up giving them one of my meal vouchers since I wasn't going to be in Newark at any time when I could use it (it seemed like most places were closed at 5 AM), so hopefully they managed to get something out of it.
At least it wasn't Detroit.
On the flight, I was impressed with the music selection. Channel 13 on the 777 is "Club Continental" which played some pretty good music. Unfortunately for me, it was a 2hr loop and I was on a 10hr flight. After 1 loop, it was Sominex to the rescue and I was out for about 3 hrs. I don't think I've ever slept that heavily on a plane. There was another musical selection on the "Shalom" channel (20) which I found hilarious and disturbing. Somebody made a rap song which talked about how being Jewish is trendy in Hollywood and actually rhymed/intermixed Yiddish words as if they were bits of gangsta slang. The kicker for me was the chorus of "Getcha Heeb on! Getcha Heeb on!", similar to Missy Elliot's "Getcha freak on!" I wondered what strange experiences lay ahead for me in Tel Aviv.
Well, those experiences started when I got into a taxi to take me to the hotel. Much like taxi drivers in the rest of Europe, the Israeli drivers thing they're auditioning for the WRC or similar as they come close to drifting their Skodas and Mercedes C-Class taxis around the banked ramps out of the airport. While I was wishing for some 4 or 5-point harness for my seat, the uncomfortable silence of "You don't speak Hebrew and I don't speak English" was broken by tuning into a local radio station (100 FM) which played.....gangsta rap. Yep, as I was driving into Tel Aviv, I heard Eminem and all of his crizzew rapping about their hoes and other classy subjects. Everything was unedited because while these bits of American culture have been imported and absorbed, I don't think that the true comprehension of meaning has been achieved. I was waiting to hear the announcer put some "Snoop speak" into her monologue. After consideration, she may have been and I didn't know it. I got to my hotel and got to bed around 1:30 AM. Again, Sominex to the rescue.
Slept 9 or so hours, missed breakfast, no big. Getting out of clothes I'd been wearing for 2 days? Very big.
Apparently Continental had some "mechanical" issue that kept the 777 from leaving LAX to get to Newark. From the sounds of things and what my Dad was able to find out, they apparently didn't have a crew available to fly the beast, so all of us going to Tel Aviv got to stay in Newark for an additional 8 hours.
They did give us all rooms at the Ramada....at the end of runway 15L. I fell asleep to the sounds of Continental Connection turboprops and other such aircraft taking off right over my room. Granted, by the time I got there, I was totally exhausted, so I didn't hear too many of the planes take off. 3.5 hours of sleep later, I was ready to go back to the terminal. Fortunately, security lines were short at 5 AM. Unfortunately, Continental couldn't get its act together so we ended up with a wheels-up time 9.5 hours later than scheduled.
On the upside, I made the acquaintance of a couple of people which helped the waiting along. One was a model whose first name was Mala. She's married to a basketball player on the team that plays in Ramat Gan here in Tel Aviv. She was from St. Maarten and now lives in Tel Aviv between here modeling shoots. Apparently she does all sorts of catalog shots for Macy's and the like. She said she did one for Cintas, the uniform company, where they wanted it to have a "sexy" feel, "like Victoria's Secret, " except in uniforms....guess that'll be the most popular catalog among the janitorial services this year.
There was another couple who were headed to Delhi and had missed their connection by 30 minutes, having sat on the ground in Rochester for 4 hours. They said that the flight was only 30 minutes long, too. Unfortunately for them, there's only 1 flight a day to Delhi, so they were stuck in the "greater"(that word just does not fit when I think of the city) Newark area for an additional 23.5 hours. Both were grad students; the woman was from India and her boyfriend kept trying to explain how airlines routinely oversold flights to which she responded "How can they sell something they don't have?" I mentioned it wasn't much different than the press-release driven vaporware companies of the .com era, but that was of little consolation, although they both did understand what I meant. I ended up giving them one of my meal vouchers since I wasn't going to be in Newark at any time when I could use it (it seemed like most places were closed at 5 AM), so hopefully they managed to get something out of it.
At least it wasn't Detroit.
On the flight, I was impressed with the music selection. Channel 13 on the 777 is "Club Continental" which played some pretty good music. Unfortunately for me, it was a 2hr loop and I was on a 10hr flight. After 1 loop, it was Sominex to the rescue and I was out for about 3 hrs. I don't think I've ever slept that heavily on a plane. There was another musical selection on the "Shalom" channel (20) which I found hilarious and disturbing. Somebody made a rap song which talked about how being Jewish is trendy in Hollywood and actually rhymed/intermixed Yiddish words as if they were bits of gangsta slang. The kicker for me was the chorus of "Getcha Heeb on! Getcha Heeb on!", similar to Missy Elliot's "Getcha freak on!" I wondered what strange experiences lay ahead for me in Tel Aviv.
Well, those experiences started when I got into a taxi to take me to the hotel. Much like taxi drivers in the rest of Europe, the Israeli drivers thing they're auditioning for the WRC or similar as they come close to drifting their Skodas and Mercedes C-Class taxis around the banked ramps out of the airport. While I was wishing for some 4 or 5-point harness for my seat, the uncomfortable silence of "You don't speak Hebrew and I don't speak English" was broken by tuning into a local radio station (100 FM) which played.....gangsta rap. Yep, as I was driving into Tel Aviv, I heard Eminem and all of his crizzew rapping about their hoes and other classy subjects. Everything was unedited because while these bits of American culture have been imported and absorbed, I don't think that the true comprehension of meaning has been achieved. I was waiting to hear the announcer put some "Snoop speak" into her monologue. After consideration, she may have been and I didn't know it. I got to my hotel and got to bed around 1:30 AM. Again, Sominex to the rescue.
Slept 9 or so hours, missed breakfast, no big. Getting out of clothes I'd been wearing for 2 days? Very big.
08 March 2007
(in)Continental
If only it were the Continental character that Christopher Walken played on Saturday Night Live.....
So, here I am in Newark, en route to Tel Aviv for bidness....more flying, less fun, or something like that. Continental Airlines is a strange beast. On the one hand, there's a giant sign in the C Concourse which states that the employees will be sharing in $110M in profits. On the other hand, there weren't enough people at the counter to deal with the bags of those of us who checked in on the Continental website, which makes you wonder if the employees prefer profit over service. That's a rhetorical question, perhaps. Regardless, in my ~6:25AM blur, I managed to be with it enough to notice that when someone did come to help the 3 people stacked up simply waiting for bag routing stickers, my bag was about to go on its way to San Jose, not Tel Aviv.
I know the TSA/DHS are all about ensuring that bags are on the same flight as the passenger, but what if something as retarded as routing tags being put on bags without any concern for which bag they really matched happened? In theory, the airline would be at fault, but, somehow, I sense that the passenger would get into the mess, too:
"Why were you trying to go on a separate flight from your luggage? Don't you know that's a Federal Offense (tm)?"
"As far as I knew, my luggage was going to the same place I was, layover and everything. Perhaps the clerk put the wrong sticker on it? I don't have any clothes or deodorant, since my luggage went somewhere else, so if you want to interrogate someone else and use my stink to extract answers, I'm happy to help. At least someone will get something good out of this situation...."
If it weren't for that rule, I might have been able to go standby on the earlier Tel Aviv flight, since we got in early. Unfortunately for me, it just means that my layover in loverly Newark approaches 7 hrs instead of just 6. The deodorant thing makes me think of the strange change in rules that moved the threshold of liquids down from 4oz to 3.4oz, a/k/a 100ml. When did this happen? I had bought all new items that would make it under the 4oz limit in November and I found that I could now use none of them on-board.
Magically, there's now a catchy "3-1-1" sign talking about 3oz, 1 quart bags, and 1 something else which escapes me since I'm not near a checkpoint. It's all a marketing ploy, I fear, coupled with some powerful lobbyists from the retail and grocers of America. I wonder how much extra Dow Chemical put into the lobbyist's budget to have the product placement of Zip-Lock(tm) one-quart bags at every airport. I wish they'd made it a one-gallon bag so these annoyingly resized items would fit, since even the 3.4 oz items still have problems fitting into a quart-size bag.
Seems like they want you to check things, at least the TSA does, but the airlines put on the boarding passes that you should pack smaller and remove the hassle of baggage by carrying things on board. Granted, this is also contrary to what you hear from the flight crew who don't want any carry-ons if avoidable, since there's always an issue of overhead space on many business or hub-centric routes. Wish there was somebody singing a consistent tune, or at least humming it.
On the plus side, there's free wireless coming from the Continental President's Club upstairs, hence I can post. Finding a good signal convergence is an issue, though. Feels more like dial-up.
Time to go find an outlet so I can watch some movies.
So, here I am in Newark, en route to Tel Aviv for bidness....more flying, less fun, or something like that. Continental Airlines is a strange beast. On the one hand, there's a giant sign in the C Concourse which states that the employees will be sharing in $110M in profits. On the other hand, there weren't enough people at the counter to deal with the bags of those of us who checked in on the Continental website, which makes you wonder if the employees prefer profit over service. That's a rhetorical question, perhaps. Regardless, in my ~6:25AM blur, I managed to be with it enough to notice that when someone did come to help the 3 people stacked up simply waiting for bag routing stickers, my bag was about to go on its way to San Jose, not Tel Aviv.
I know the TSA/DHS are all about ensuring that bags are on the same flight as the passenger, but what if something as retarded as routing tags being put on bags without any concern for which bag they really matched happened? In theory, the airline would be at fault, but, somehow, I sense that the passenger would get into the mess, too:
"Why were you trying to go on a separate flight from your luggage? Don't you know that's a Federal Offense (tm)?"
"As far as I knew, my luggage was going to the same place I was, layover and everything. Perhaps the clerk put the wrong sticker on it? I don't have any clothes or deodorant, since my luggage went somewhere else, so if you want to interrogate someone else and use my stink to extract answers, I'm happy to help. At least someone will get something good out of this situation...."
If it weren't for that rule, I might have been able to go standby on the earlier Tel Aviv flight, since we got in early. Unfortunately for me, it just means that my layover in loverly Newark approaches 7 hrs instead of just 6. The deodorant thing makes me think of the strange change in rules that moved the threshold of liquids down from 4oz to 3.4oz, a/k/a 100ml. When did this happen? I had bought all new items that would make it under the 4oz limit in November and I found that I could now use none of them on-board.
Magically, there's now a catchy "3-1-1" sign talking about 3oz, 1 quart bags, and 1 something else which escapes me since I'm not near a checkpoint. It's all a marketing ploy, I fear, coupled with some powerful lobbyists from the retail and grocers of America. I wonder how much extra Dow Chemical put into the lobbyist's budget to have the product placement of Zip-Lock(tm) one-quart bags at every airport. I wish they'd made it a one-gallon bag so these annoyingly resized items would fit, since even the 3.4 oz items still have problems fitting into a quart-size bag.
Seems like they want you to check things, at least the TSA does, but the airlines put on the boarding passes that you should pack smaller and remove the hassle of baggage by carrying things on board. Granted, this is also contrary to what you hear from the flight crew who don't want any carry-ons if avoidable, since there's always an issue of overhead space on many business or hub-centric routes. Wish there was somebody singing a consistent tune, or at least humming it.
On the plus side, there's free wireless coming from the Continental President's Club upstairs, hence I can post. Finding a good signal convergence is an issue, though. Feels more like dial-up.
Time to go find an outlet so I can watch some movies.
03 March 2007
Again, thanks be to The Onion
Not nearly as compact as the Radical Islamists article listed below, but still worth the time.
"His Ultimate Galactic Dragon Gyroball Pitch Power Explosion breaks three feet inside before cutting sharply toward the dugout, where falsehood and cowardice are forced to shrink before it!"
Awesome!
"His Ultimate Galactic Dragon Gyroball Pitch Power Explosion breaks three feet inside before cutting sharply toward the dugout, where falsehood and cowardice are forced to shrink before it!"
Awesome!
28 February 2007
It'll truly tear the cover off of things...
I was contemplating things as I tried to sort out configuring a device for the company I'm visiting here in Houston and wondered what it'll be like when/if we encounter beings that are not of this Earth, either in a physical or mental sense. ID4 didn't even touch the fact that the appearance of the "alien fleet" could cause many to go entirely insane, since the current structure of things is, by and large, based on tangibility, either in the physical or mental senses of the word. If we can't deal with something and its significance (or insignificance), humanity then seems to go into shell shock.
Granted, this syndrome is nothing new. Many encounter it when faced with decisions that have genuinely uncertain outcomes, both optimistic and pessimistic. I know I am one who has hit this more than once and am facing it again now. Certainly the optimistic view on things sees a brighter world where things are free and obligations don't feel like obligations, just simple tasks to accomplish on the long thruway of happiness. The pessimist sees that the world after such an event will be one of loneliness, spite, vitriol, and depression, mostly due to a lessened feeling of being in control.
Control is what it's all about. We are jealous of those who have control of their lives and, to some extent, the lives of others, and we are happy when we are in that catbird seat. Surrendering some control is often OK when it's for an established time, such as an airplane flight. There's a definite outcome at the end and clear demarcation of when the control is returned to you.
Things emotional, however, are about balancing the loss of control (i.e. stability) with the regained control over one's life that comes after resolution has come and passed (happiness and freedom, though only sometimes after a period of mourning). For these reasons, among others, emotional issues always seem to generate heartburn, both in acid reflux and the weight on the heart that comes with a lack of resolution. More than a lack of resolution, actually, it is a lack of grasping and being able to articulate what's really right and wrong (as in functional/dysfunctional) about a situation or the lack of an appropriate audience to tell and recollect thoughts while doing so.
So, back to the "alien" subject, perhaps this is why I have so many dreams about aliens coming to Earth. There's a lot I don't know of their intentions; sometimes the dreams go well and sometimes they don't. Regardless of outcome, their presence is still something that boggles my mind, even in dreams where I'm supposed to have some sort of control. Most times where things go bad in my dreams, I end up being with my friends, a couple of them in particular, and things work out OK. They're tough, certainly, but they work out.
I have seen the alien fleet arriving on the horizon. It's mighty big.
Granted, this syndrome is nothing new. Many encounter it when faced with decisions that have genuinely uncertain outcomes, both optimistic and pessimistic. I know I am one who has hit this more than once and am facing it again now. Certainly the optimistic view on things sees a brighter world where things are free and obligations don't feel like obligations, just simple tasks to accomplish on the long thruway of happiness. The pessimist sees that the world after such an event will be one of loneliness, spite, vitriol, and depression, mostly due to a lessened feeling of being in control.
Control is what it's all about. We are jealous of those who have control of their lives and, to some extent, the lives of others, and we are happy when we are in that catbird seat. Surrendering some control is often OK when it's for an established time, such as an airplane flight. There's a definite outcome at the end and clear demarcation of when the control is returned to you.
Things emotional, however, are about balancing the loss of control (i.e. stability) with the regained control over one's life that comes after resolution has come and passed (happiness and freedom, though only sometimes after a period of mourning). For these reasons, among others, emotional issues always seem to generate heartburn, both in acid reflux and the weight on the heart that comes with a lack of resolution. More than a lack of resolution, actually, it is a lack of grasping and being able to articulate what's really right and wrong (as in functional/dysfunctional) about a situation or the lack of an appropriate audience to tell and recollect thoughts while doing so.
So, back to the "alien" subject, perhaps this is why I have so many dreams about aliens coming to Earth. There's a lot I don't know of their intentions; sometimes the dreams go well and sometimes they don't. Regardless of outcome, their presence is still something that boggles my mind, even in dreams where I'm supposed to have some sort of control. Most times where things go bad in my dreams, I end up being with my friends, a couple of them in particular, and things work out OK. They're tough, certainly, but they work out.
I have seen the alien fleet arriving on the horizon. It's mighty big.
Sleep is for the weak, right?
Sure, if you can get a solid 3-4 hours, you can keep going for days/weeks/months. That's what having a child is like, especially if you're the primary parent for feedings. I admit I wasn't, but that time wasn't good for sleeping for other reasons, so I do know the long-term effects of sleep deprivation.
Unfortunately, my mind never shut down last night so sleep was something that came in sitcom-sized doses. Feck.
Guess I've a lot to remember about life on the road aside from the odd liberation it brings.
Unfortunately, my mind never shut down last night so sleep was something that came in sitcom-sized doses. Feck.
Guess I've a lot to remember about life on the road aside from the odd liberation it brings.
27 February 2007
Houston
So I'm here now. It sprawls as I remember it did, much like the other parts of Texas I've visited more recently, like Brownsville. One of the guys I was at dinner with suggested that anyone who'd been here more than 10 years should have bought a concrete plant since everything's a strip mall. It's strange to notice that new strip malls are being built without the old ones being completely full yet. Has strip mall occupancy echoed the .com era or the public's passing fancies where the newest and shiniest (storefront in this case) was the one to head towards, leaving the currently available and accessible resources unused?
Sprawl is about waste, unfortunately. More trash, more used space, just more, more, MORE. It is kinda sad that our nation is running down this track at a faster clip than it should be. Most likely, it's about the attention span that the populace has for the current "hot topic." Sprawl may have been the issue a few years ago, but now it's Anna Nicole, Britney, and hybrids. I'd mention Iraq, but that's been a constant for more than 6 months, so it's faded into the greenery in the minds of many. Besides, the news media, our lovely 5th Estate (or is it the 4th?) can sell more ads with bimbos than bodies, so Britney is at the top of the cycle, following Anna Nicole, Paris Hilton, and any other dimbette that you can name. Dimbette, though seemingly centered on women, actually applies to men as well like K-Fed or J-Lake or any male American Idol contestant. Unfortunately, the masculine of something like that just sounds like another female-oriented term, i.e. dimbo, and not something that is easily identified as gender-neutral. Perhaps it's compliment is the standard dimbulb, long a staple in my house for describing the questionable actions of my very loving and loveable but less than sharp dogs.
If there's a linguist out there who cares to weigh in, by all means, leave a comment.
Anyhow, time for bed, since I'll need to be on-site at 9 local time with breakfast at 8. Considering it's past midnight, I best get to steppin'.
Sprawl is about waste, unfortunately. More trash, more used space, just more, more, MORE. It is kinda sad that our nation is running down this track at a faster clip than it should be. Most likely, it's about the attention span that the populace has for the current "hot topic." Sprawl may have been the issue a few years ago, but now it's Anna Nicole, Britney, and hybrids. I'd mention Iraq, but that's been a constant for more than 6 months, so it's faded into the greenery in the minds of many. Besides, the news media, our lovely 5th Estate (or is it the 4th?) can sell more ads with bimbos than bodies, so Britney is at the top of the cycle, following Anna Nicole, Paris Hilton, and any other dimbette that you can name. Dimbette, though seemingly centered on women, actually applies to men as well like K-Fed or J-Lake or any male American Idol contestant. Unfortunately, the masculine of something like that just sounds like another female-oriented term, i.e. dimbo, and not something that is easily identified as gender-neutral. Perhaps it's compliment is the standard dimbulb, long a staple in my house for describing the questionable actions of my very loving and loveable but less than sharp dogs.
If there's a linguist out there who cares to weigh in, by all means, leave a comment.
Anyhow, time for bed, since I'll need to be on-site at 9 local time with breakfast at 8. Considering it's past midnight, I best get to steppin'.
24 February 2007
How Much Can A Man Take?
This question is asked over and over in the course of Twelve O'Clock High regarding the limits of bomber pilots in the 8th Air Force in 1943. The movie and book of the same name are wonderful and a great historical compliment to both is Masters of the Air by Donald Miller.
Reading the Miller book is rather humbling for me having neither been in the military or seen combat. It reminds me that no matter what my problems are, none of them will result in me having a greater than 60% chance of being dead at the end of them.
Of course, the motivation to deal with these problems is a bigger issue. Admittedly, though many aspects of WWII were gruesome and brought out the worst in humanity, finding motivation to put everything they had into the cause of Victory was not, even if it meant almost certain death.
Again, humbling.
Reading the Miller book is rather humbling for me having neither been in the military or seen combat. It reminds me that no matter what my problems are, none of them will result in me having a greater than 60% chance of being dead at the end of them.
Of course, the motivation to deal with these problems is a bigger issue. Admittedly, though many aspects of WWII were gruesome and brought out the worst in humanity, finding motivation to put everything they had into the cause of Victory was not, even if it meant almost certain death.
Again, humbling.
22 February 2007
Not to Boston, but still Houston and Tel Aviv.
Tel Aviv in 2 weeks. Not going to Boston now and I admit I'm pretty happy about that.
Certainly, there'll be other places I'll have to go, and that's fine by me. Boston isn't among my top five places to go. Sure, I still know a few people there and have a relative or two, but it's just not where I want to be.
Rather be at Glacier Park, actually. Someday, maybe.
18 February 2007
Eighteen Seconds
This is a really cool short flick by a team named Jack, Zac, and Mac. Apparently it's based on a short story by the male lead in it. It also stars Amy Waschke who was an intern and then in the Education department at the Seattle Repertory Theatre when I worked there in 1998-2000. As far as I know it has nothing to do with the Eighteen Seconds Before Sunrise album.
There have been several reviews at the DVX User forum, since it was shot with an HD camera and from what I read, it was almost selected for a film festival or two. There's a lot shoved into just under 6 minutes and it's well worth the time. I hope that Amy continues to find work both on stage and in film and that the creative team behind this also get their work into some festivals. I usually despise art films, simply because there's an arrogance that surrounds most of them which is perpetuated/aggrandized by those who feel only "art" films are "elevated" (i.e. the haven't sold out to The MAN (tm) and are "keeping it real") and the rest are for the plebes.
I, for one, enjoy being a plebian, at least as far as "films" are concerned. I will not watch a "film" that has an audience filled with drones who all have the vapid smiles of someone who thinks that by watching said film, there is suddenly a basis for condescension to those who were not basking in the glory of the latest Dadaist "feature" of slicing frog eyes. These are the same people who are content, nay, uplifted, when they speak out against injustices and get indignant in the company of like-minded people.
Preaching to the choir? You're too hardcore for me. Free exchange of ideas and learning via the Socratic method? Naaaaaaaaah, real movements in thought occurred straight from lockstep Rote-method learning! Reconvert those already converted! Enjoy the easy victories again and again and again!
These last few sentences sum up one of the cornerstones of Pacific Northwest political thought. It's a wonder that the Seattle area could even progress out of the "impact statement" phase of anything. Consensus building, while considerate, rarely accomplishes anything. Why does Portland have a pretty sweet transit system while Seattle still hasn't run a light rail train 11 years after approving it? The will of Neil Goldschmidt, former Mayor of Portland.
Goldschmidt has a pretty interesting past, summed up by this Willamette Week article. I had lunch with him and my Public Policy class as an undergrad and it was pretty darn cool. Unfortunately, as you can read in the WW article or this one, he apparently didn't have the best judgment as to whom he should have relationships with, professional or otherwise. Read more about him and decide for yourself whether or not his lasting legacy of the MAX in Portland offsets his interesting history as a lobbyist.
Neil may have been a bit shady in his dealings, but at least he got something done. Ron Sims? Squeaky clean and a whole lotta nothin' for 3 terms in King County.
Anyhow, watch the flick on your video iPod, laptop, whathaveyou, and think about how your relationships are and how they came about.
There have been several reviews at the DVX User forum, since it was shot with an HD camera and from what I read, it was almost selected for a film festival or two. There's a lot shoved into just under 6 minutes and it's well worth the time. I hope that Amy continues to find work both on stage and in film and that the creative team behind this also get their work into some festivals. I usually despise art films, simply because there's an arrogance that surrounds most of them which is perpetuated/aggrandized by those who feel only "art" films are "elevated" (i.e. the haven't sold out to The MAN (tm) and are "keeping it real") and the rest are for the plebes.
I, for one, enjoy being a plebian, at least as far as "films" are concerned. I will not watch a "film" that has an audience filled with drones who all have the vapid smiles of someone who thinks that by watching said film, there is suddenly a basis for condescension to those who were not basking in the glory of the latest Dadaist "feature" of slicing frog eyes. These are the same people who are content, nay, uplifted, when they speak out against injustices and get indignant in the company of like-minded people.
Preaching to the choir? You're too hardcore for me. Free exchange of ideas and learning via the Socratic method? Naaaaaaaaah, real movements in thought occurred straight from lockstep Rote-method learning! Reconvert those already converted! Enjoy the easy victories again and again and again!
These last few sentences sum up one of the cornerstones of Pacific Northwest political thought. It's a wonder that the Seattle area could even progress out of the "impact statement" phase of anything. Consensus building, while considerate, rarely accomplishes anything. Why does Portland have a pretty sweet transit system while Seattle still hasn't run a light rail train 11 years after approving it? The will of Neil Goldschmidt, former Mayor of Portland.
Goldschmidt has a pretty interesting past, summed up by this Willamette Week article. I had lunch with him and my Public Policy class as an undergrad and it was pretty darn cool. Unfortunately, as you can read in the WW article or this one, he apparently didn't have the best judgment as to whom he should have relationships with, professional or otherwise. Read more about him and decide for yourself whether or not his lasting legacy of the MAX in Portland offsets his interesting history as a lobbyist.
Neil may have been a bit shady in his dealings, but at least he got something done. Ron Sims? Squeaky clean and a whole lotta nothin' for 3 terms in King County.
Anyhow, watch the flick on your video iPod, laptop, whathaveyou, and think about how your relationships are and how they came about.
17 February 2007
Sunny day and real estate
First sunny day in a while. Kinda forgot that the world was something other than grayscale.
I get to spend it cleaning the house (vacuuming, mopping, throwing out old food, etc.) and then raking the yard. Walking the dogs probably figures in there, too. Maybe I'll clean the garage. Gotta clear out the room in the basement and rip up the carpet to float the cement floor. On a lighter note, I get to spend the day by myself doing these things. Trading the labor for solitude is what's needed today.
Looks like I'll get most of the day.
As an aside, the Suicide Girls DVD is pretty darn good. Funny and hot alterna-chicks on it. The cool thing is that they convey that they genuinely like what they're doing and don't have a bad attitude while having "attitude". Apparently there's some controversy about them now d/t former Suicide Girls thinking that the group has sold out, but that was a while ago. Read on and decide:
the main site
a MySpace site with daily preview pictures.
The 2005 Wired story about the "controversy" (or as some in the news might say, "contoversy").
I get to spend it cleaning the house (vacuuming, mopping, throwing out old food, etc.) and then raking the yard. Walking the dogs probably figures in there, too. Maybe I'll clean the garage. Gotta clear out the room in the basement and rip up the carpet to float the cement floor. On a lighter note, I get to spend the day by myself doing these things. Trading the labor for solitude is what's needed today.
Looks like I'll get most of the day.
As an aside, the Suicide Girls DVD is pretty darn good. Funny and hot alterna-chicks on it. The cool thing is that they convey that they genuinely like what they're doing and don't have a bad attitude while having "attitude". Apparently there's some controversy about them now d/t former Suicide Girls thinking that the group has sold out, but that was a while ago. Read on and decide:
the main site
a MySpace site with daily preview pictures.
The 2005 Wired story about the "controversy" (or as some in the news might say, "contoversy").
A nice wine reduction sauce....
It appears that my life's output/value has boiled down to three basic components:
- My income.
- My existence as tertiary parent (after my wife and the dogs).
- My questionable decisions.
15 February 2007
Things I learned today....
- Anyone who said "It's about the journey, not the destination," never took commercial airlines to get to that destination. Ditto with the US "rail system" a/k/a Amtrak.
- From the Pacific NW, it takes a long time to fly anywhere interesting. Sure, we've got gorgeous scenery, ocean, mountains, and all things outdoors. However, if you just want to go someplace that actually looks different than it does around here, then you need to go a long way by plane or train.
- Very very very few flights across the USA are done in anything larger than a 757. Most are done in the "ultra-efficient" 737-700,-800, or -900. What does this mean? While new planes are nice, they are more and more adept at shoehorning more and more people in each plane as the airframe evolves. Accordingly, you get less space and are much less likely to get seated next to someone hot as you are the traveling salesman who's eaten once too many times at Applebee's or Garlic Jim's. Of course, if you're traveling with someone, then the chances of getting someone hot next to you go up. If you're traveling with child(ren), then substitute "cute" for "hot", since referring to your kid as "hot" probably doesn't go over well with strangers.
I will be going to Houston, Boston, and then Tel Aviv all in the next 3 or so months. While the Tel Aviv trip will most likely have a 777 for the international portion, all the domestic flights will be on single-aisle jets for 4-6 hours at a shot. Ugh. The headphones can only cancel out so much noise from the person next to me who seems to have some sort of walrus-like breathing issue.
I like my personal space and prefer to share it only with those I invite into it. Airline travel basically invokes Imminent Domain and forces you into situations that normally would cause panic or at least erratic driving. Alas, though, this is the way of modern "convenience." Pack more in! More features, less space! Look at the Efficiency!
Ick.
I used to love flying, and part of me still does, although mostly the takeoff and landing routines. The strange contra-dance-like flight patterns at some of the airports can be fun, simply because of the things you see. Landings can be neat when the airport seems to come out of nowhere; landing at Oakland comes to mind where you come in over the Bay for a while then suddenly the runway pops up beneath the plane like someone pulling a pizza from the oven at a pizaa shop. That's pretty cool.
I've heard from my Dad and others that the landing pattern in Hong Kong is like that, only there are a lot more buildings involved. Same with Osaka, I think, if that's the one that's basically an airport that's 4-6 feet above sea-level on a man-made island.
Someone please correct me if I'm wrong.
Between the rally-driving that some of the approaches and takeoffs can be, well, there's about 4 hours of the flying equivalent of NASCAR. Yawn...left turn....yawn...slow right turn....yawn...meal service....yawn...whadda you mean $6 for this so-called sandwich?
Yeah, the sheen of flying's worn off. I don't even do it that much anymore. Guess I'm just on a trajectory to become a curmudgeon like Andy Rooney. Actually, there's no guessing.
I know it'll happen; I'm going to be a coot.
14 February 2007
If The Onion didn't exist....
I'd have to think that the legacy of the National Lampoon that was (circa 1975-1982) had died forever. The so-called NL franchise that makes movies like Van Wilder is definitely not the same one as wrought Animal House and the Dacron Republican-Democrat, the parody of an Ohio Sunday newspaper. Classics abounded in that one like the local chain store, Swillmart, and its circular featuring "Last Supper Shower Curtains" featuring an "authentic" signature of Jesus H. Christ himself as well as drums of "snack paste" for only $1.49.
Since then there have been few articles that I feel that need to be sent around or disseminated, but this one is an incredible laugh for as compact as it is: Radical Islamic Extremists Snowboard Into U.S. Embassy.
Enjoy.
Since then there have been few articles that I feel that need to be sent around or disseminated, but this one is an incredible laugh for as compact as it is: Radical Islamic Extremists Snowboard Into U.S. Embassy.
Enjoy.
09 February 2007
Ha! I'm not the only one with an unnatural weather fixation...
....who isn't already a meteorologist....
This gentleman has taken the accuracy of 10 weather forecasting sites to task. It's pretty cool how much detail he went into to figure out....that weather forecasts are all aboutstandard deviations, not accuracy.
http://www.omninerd.com/2007/02/08/articles/69
This gentleman has taken the accuracy of 10 weather forecasting sites to task. It's pretty cool how much detail he went into to figure out....that weather forecasts are all aboutstandard deviations, not accuracy.
http://www.omninerd.com/2007/02/08/articles/69
08 February 2007
What do you fear most of all in the world?
"That love is not enough."
I don't know what movie that came from but it's a sample in an Apoptygma Berserk song and it frightens me more and more as my life goes on. It's a strange truth that one thing can sustain you but many things are needed for growth. Striving for success, money, wanting to take out all the best strikers in your soccer league and instill fear in others who come your way on the pitch when you're on defense -- each can be a personal motivator and one that drives you to do superhuman things. Eventually, though, everyone's got a threshold.
Discovering that threshold is tough; realizing you've passed it long ago can be demoralizing or debilitating. More so, asking the question "Is it worth it?" and dreading the answer you say back to yourself.
I can say that in some aspects of my life, I definitely blew by the thresholds and am now paying the price. With others, I seem to have pulled up from the terminal velocity dive in time to avert disaster only to realize the view was a lot better when I wasn't concerned about the details.
So, I guess that we all have our own personal El Guapos to face. Here's hoping that you can look yours straight in the eyes and not look back as you blew by, only to find that your pants caught a nail and have been unraveling for a hundred yards.
I don't know what movie that came from but it's a sample in an Apoptygma Berserk song and it frightens me more and more as my life goes on. It's a strange truth that one thing can sustain you but many things are needed for growth. Striving for success, money, wanting to take out all the best strikers in your soccer league and instill fear in others who come your way on the pitch when you're on defense -- each can be a personal motivator and one that drives you to do superhuman things. Eventually, though, everyone's got a threshold.
Discovering that threshold is tough; realizing you've passed it long ago can be demoralizing or debilitating. More so, asking the question "Is it worth it?" and dreading the answer you say back to yourself.
I can say that in some aspects of my life, I definitely blew by the thresholds and am now paying the price. With others, I seem to have pulled up from the terminal velocity dive in time to avert disaster only to realize the view was a lot better when I wasn't concerned about the details.
So, I guess that we all have our own personal El Guapos to face. Here's hoping that you can look yours straight in the eyes and not look back as you blew by, only to find that your pants caught a nail and have been unraveling for a hundred yards.
07 February 2007
Things to do before I'm 40: #1
Ride this bad boy in Japan. Some think that the Lemur parks are better but I have more faith in Physics than I do in domestication of animals.....
Here's more about this monster with the 89 degree initial decline....there's video on this page, too.
"Cheney to Rolling Thunder...."
Bloody hell, I need one of these and a crowd of pseudo-intellectuals to use it on....
If only I could muster the legal defense fund.
http://www.specialopspaintball.com/articles/razorback.asp
04 January 2007
I guess it's now passe to do this.....
So, if I'm blogging, then it must be past it's prime. Sure, I can find all sorts of goodies to post, ramble on about subjects where I have enough knowledge to get myself into trouble, or just generally let loose all the pent up weltanschauung that I harbor by simply existing. I guess it's more age-appropriate than a MySpace page.
Some I know can get away with such things but it just doesn't fit me well. I find MySpace amusing, most certainly, and I won't be prevented from going there if someone sends a link. However, I can't quite get into the whole "Here I am, here are my peeps. Love me more than you did before simply because I'm me and I'm HIP" pretext that is MySpace. I guess I just can't hang with the kidz anymore. I'm also not a "viral marketer", simply because I have nothing to sell. MySpace is really all about viral marketing for peoples' personalities and hobbies, in truth. Put out some tags about a subject and watch to see how many people search for those tags and find you. I know that it can be done with blogs, too, but due to the content of your average MySpace page, it seems more appropriate to label things done with MySpace as "marketing".
Back to "Raisin'-da-Roof" I go, since that was about the last time I was anywhere close to Hip(tm). Now it's just me and Oprah who are the only ones to do that anymore. Wonder if she knows that there's only one other person in the USA who still raises-da-roof on a regular basis?
Here's to keeping it real, or something like that. I felt odd being on a jury recently and being the one who had to translate some rather tame slang for the rest of the jury. I thought I was pretty much a suburban honky who wasn't down, but the other folks on the jury didn't know what many of the witnesses were saying and the rest of the jury are all very bright people, so it was surprising that the duty to translate some of the testimony fell on me. Perhaps the other folks on the jury actually have true intellectual pursuits, haven't listened to rap music since the mid-80's, and otherwise find themselves not watching the crappy television and other pop culture that I do.
"See, I'm hip, I'm with it...."
On the other hand, it was interesting knowing in advance what the testimony meant before having to review it. I've only ever been someone who has picked up interesting phrases of other languages, but never actually gotten to the point where I could hold a decent conversation. Knowing how to say "Fire the Wave Motion Gun" in Japanese, the Roach Motel commercial in Spanish, or some choice phrases in Punjabi is fine and good, but if I were to be dropped somewhere where people spoke those languages exclusively, I'd be screwed. Being able to translate "hood" into more regular English is about as good as it gets for me. Guess it's good I can do other things aside from butcher other languages.....
blah.
Some I know can get away with such things but it just doesn't fit me well. I find MySpace amusing, most certainly, and I won't be prevented from going there if someone sends a link. However, I can't quite get into the whole "Here I am, here are my peeps. Love me more than you did before simply because I'm me and I'm HIP" pretext that is MySpace. I guess I just can't hang with the kidz anymore. I'm also not a "viral marketer", simply because I have nothing to sell. MySpace is really all about viral marketing for peoples' personalities and hobbies, in truth. Put out some tags about a subject and watch to see how many people search for those tags and find you. I know that it can be done with blogs, too, but due to the content of your average MySpace page, it seems more appropriate to label things done with MySpace as "marketing".
Back to "Raisin'-da-Roof" I go, since that was about the last time I was anywhere close to Hip(tm). Now it's just me and Oprah who are the only ones to do that anymore. Wonder if she knows that there's only one other person in the USA who still raises-da-roof on a regular basis?
Here's to keeping it real, or something like that. I felt odd being on a jury recently and being the one who had to translate some rather tame slang for the rest of the jury. I thought I was pretty much a suburban honky who wasn't down, but the other folks on the jury didn't know what many of the witnesses were saying and the rest of the jury are all very bright people, so it was surprising that the duty to translate some of the testimony fell on me. Perhaps the other folks on the jury actually have true intellectual pursuits, haven't listened to rap music since the mid-80's, and otherwise find themselves not watching the crappy television and other pop culture that I do.
"See, I'm hip, I'm with it...."
On the other hand, it was interesting knowing in advance what the testimony meant before having to review it. I've only ever been someone who has picked up interesting phrases of other languages, but never actually gotten to the point where I could hold a decent conversation. Knowing how to say "Fire the Wave Motion Gun" in Japanese, the Roach Motel commercial in Spanish, or some choice phrases in Punjabi is fine and good, but if I were to be dropped somewhere where people spoke those languages exclusively, I'd be screwed. Being able to translate "hood" into more regular English is about as good as it gets for me. Guess it's good I can do other things aside from butcher other languages.....
blah.
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