DOAB Week of April 2, 2001

Disclaimer
The opinions and such expressed below are my own opinions. Feel free to agree or disagree as you wish, and I might publish e-mails to me that I like, and ignore those I don't. If you'd rather I didn't, PLEASE LET ME KNOW. And Thank You for stopping.

BRRRRRING : This is John, may I help you?
HER : You're leaving now.
Mental Voice : No, it's 3:50, and I've got stuff to do; if I leave at 4:00 I can still get the kids, get them home, and get them changed into their suits before 5:25, when you get home, and we can turn around and head back to the Y for the Monday swimming lessons, and then either grab some dinner or just go home.
Me (Out Loud) : Not yet, why?
Her : They're taking your son to Quello Clinic - he's bleeding and needs stitches.
Mental Voice : !
Me (Out Loud) : Okay. Bye! <Click>

So how did your evening start? Mine, just fine, thanks. Stitches again. Holding the hand of my son while they stuck more needles into his head; some with string, some liquids. I'm not at all good with needles. Not at all. When it came to drugs when I was a kid, it was pretty easy. "Needles? $!#%^ no. I'm not touching no stinking needles."

So watching them stick it into my son's head, right at the hair line, just ain't my cuppatea. Not at all. Not in any way, shape, or form. And the kid's doing pretty well as they stick him in the head. I'm the one hiding under the drape, playing hide-and-seek, and asking what he wants for dinner. McDonalds Cheeseburgers. With fries. And a chocolate shake. Yes, the discoloration on his collar's blood. His blood.

Oh well. The kid recovered, as you can see below. I don't know that I ever will - oy. Boys. Thank GOD I didn't put my parents through this. I wonder if Dick Cheney has little boys? Would explain a lot... hehehehe.

Yes, snow, and not an April Fools joke, either. Large, fat flakes the size of a fist falling out of the sky this morning. We live south of the Twin Cities Metro area (I get downtown perhaps once a month, if that - Ann works in Downtown St. Paul) about 30 minutes (if no traffic), and we're south of the Minnesota River.

Just before turning off the morning news program as I prepared to leave, the yahoo on the morning weather-beat said "everything south of the river is rain right now, and the snow is lifting to the northwest." OK, says I, knowing that last week's sun-into-the-shower bit is as good as it's gonna get - we've got east-facing windows in the bedroom, and about 18 feet straight back to the bathroom. Once or twice a year I get sunlight while showering - the rest of the year the sun's too far north or south to bother.

It's plenty dark out this morning, and with the time change we're all dragging considerably (I'm beginning to remember why I used to take the week after the time changes off - when I worked for the company that did time and attendance systems, you invariably had some people who'd forget - our systems were smart enough, if you told them, that you did, or did not, observe daylight savings time. If you punched in prior to the change, worked through the change, and punched out, it knew to add or subtract an hour. If you had more complex issues (people taking breaks, etc), we could handle that as well. What we couldn't handle was deliberate stupidity - "whoops, set the clocks back instead of ahead" was always my favorite - Gee, I wonder why we named the daylight savings changes SPRING and FALL. Can't for the life of me imagine someone getting that screwed up. Duh).

So, anyway, it's dark. In the few minutes I had to battle with the monkey king (who was partying at least until 10 pm, when I got off the computer and went to bed) to get him decently dressed, it lightened up enough to see outside. Where more white stuff had again accumulated. Good grief. This is becoming something of a great, giant, frozen pain in the posterior.

The good news, if you want to call it that, is that it doesn't stay long this time of year. On the roads and paved surfaces, we're looking at very wet roadways. On grass and the like, it's white. Again. Still. Whatever. Though I have to snicker, a bit, at all those folks who came into town for the NCAA Final four. They're probably hiding in their hotel rooms, terrified of the stuff that's fallen from above...

And then I find Lynne Walder's had a rough go of it yesterday. First, she's having a bit of a problem with the whole erb/herb thing. You see, when I was a kid (oh, OK, I was in high school, but give me a break, eh?) there was a television show called WKRP in Cincinnati. In that show was a fellow by the name of Herbert R. Tarlek Jr. He was the sales manager for a radio station in Cincinnati, Ohio, and, well, Herb had the most horrid taste in clothes. Yes, even worse than mine, my wife will agree. I never, ever, in my life, owned a white belt; the only white shoes I've ever owned have been tennis shoes; the only white dress shoes I wore were with white pants and blue tuxes (mid-eighties wedding - think Miami Vice).

Herb used the "H" in his name. I think that was when, by an act of congress, we decided that if it was food, we'd pronounce it "erb" to avoid the more terrifying connotations of the word "Herb".

Now this particular story caught my eye, but only because of the last fellow quoted. Bates Gill, eh? Flip that around a little, and I wonder what you could spell. Let's see... A... no N... T... I... No C, no H, no R, already used the I, got an S, already used the T. Oh well, guess we'll use Bill Gates, eh?

I suppose I should mention that I've finally found a way to work out that's not too bad. We bought some headphone radios on the cheap a while back, and yesterday, at the Y, I went for a walk. The good thing is that I was able to get into a good rhythm and really move along, and not concentrate too much on the rest of me. The bad news is that I'm not sure how many laps I did on the track. I think it was fourteen and a half before I stepped off (nine is a mile), and then we did one more lap together (I took the headphones off for that one) before going swimming.

And I'm beginning to suspect someone's glued up a router or something this morning. The internet seems VERY slow. That's one benefit of living on dailup most of the time - you don't notice slow; that's a normal condition. Five or six times now I've gone to sites, only to see them lock up IE. Then again, isn't that what's supposed to happen?

And plain derranged? PLAIN DERRANGED? Yeah, that must be it. Remodel her kitchen, sell her car, and have a dog who's leavings are frequently mistaken for elephant droppings; a trusting soul, that dog, who will listen to you even when you yell "sit" in the middle of a freezing stream, then look at you, with doggie-tears streaming from his eyes, and say "so THAT'S why I was never neutered - you want to TORTURE me!". Yeah. I'm the derranged one, all right. Sleeps next to his wife every night of the "it'll be done in 2 weeks" four-month remodel project, not at all expecting ANYTHING untoward to happen to him. Bud, you'd best find a good solid suit of armor... No, not for me. You're playing with fire, and your wife's got no way to run when she wants to - she's gonna take your car, and... well, just trust me on this one, she sleeps light, you don't, and when you "vroom" off in that car of yours, remember that your life insurance is fully paid up, and between that and your bank accounts, she'd make a mighty attractive widow. Hell, she even likes computers...

And at this point, I'd best just go abase myself before the woman I love, and live with, for I too sleep much like a log and may not awake under the increasing weight of the pillows some night... I'm sure I'm in trouble here, but I can't for the life of me imagine why.

So, to end on a positive note, I found this wonderful argument for a human with a brain to proofread... Oh, I'll quote here... but you can go there and look (I think - beware, they use cookies and the like as if they're FREE or something...) "EYE OF THE BEHOLDER is based on the acclaimed 1980 novel by Marc Behm, concerning a British intelligence agent, The Eye (Ewan McGregor), who is ass..."

Oh, what the hell - funniest Spam I've received in the last month... My interjections in italics, of course

> From: some spuzhead with fewer brain cells than shoelaces
> Sent: Monday, April 02, 2001 4:56 PM
> To: us poor bastards
> Subject: How would you like to be called Reverend?? ~
> 
> 
> Minister Charles Simpson has the power to make you a LEGALLY 
> ORDAINED MINISTER within 48 hours!!!!                  10         
>

Oh, yeah. Rev. Chuck Simpson - I want THAT on a piece of paper, yessir.

                                             
> 
> BE ORDAINED NOW!
> 
> As a minister, you will be authorized to perform the rites and 
> ceremonies of the church!!
> 
> WEDDINGS
> MARRY your BROTHER, SISTER, or your BEST FRIEND!!
> Don't settle for being the BEST MAN OR BRIDES' MAID
> Most states require that you register your certificate (THAT WE 
> SEND YOU) with the state prior to conducting the ceremony.
>

I think he means "PERFORM weddings for your brother, sister, or best friend. But then again, when in Kaintucky, as they say...

> FUNERALS
> A very hard time for you and your family
> Don't settle for a minister you don't know!!
> Most states require that you register your certificate (THAT WE 
> SEND YOU) with the state prior to conducting the ceremony.

Oh, yeah, THAT'S peace of mind. Uncle Mortie's got his "I are a korernor" certificate on the wall, then Uncle Sam can do the funeral... Oh, we just won't go there.

> 
> BAPTISMS
> You can say "WELCOME TO THE WORLD!!!! I AM YOUR MINISTER AND YOUR UNCLE!!"
> What a special way to welcome a child of God.
>

Yeah, right. "I baptise you in the name of the Simpson, the Wingnut, and the Holy Buck. Amen. That'll be twenty."

> FORGIVENESS OF SINS
> The Catholic Church has practiced the forgiveness of sins for centuries
> **Forgiveness of Sins is granted to all who ask in sincerity and 
> willingness to change for the better!!

Huh? You gotta be kidding me - I'm going into a confessional to discuss my sins with some nutball with a tape recorder? Right. And BTW? Reverends ain't allowed to create Catholic Priests - sorry. Not gonna happen.

> 
> VISIT CORRECTIONAL FACILITIES
> Since you will be a Certified Minister, you can visit others in need!!
> Preach the Word of God to those who have strayed from the flock

Now THAT'S a selling point I hadn't thought of. "Get a degree, go to prison!" Good job.

> 
> WANT TO START YOUR OWN CHURCH??
> After your LEGAL ORDINATION, you may start your own congregation!!
>

Yeah. And as I recall, one L. Ron Hubbard once said "to REALLY get rich, start your own religion!"

> 
> At this point you must be wondering how much the Certificate 
> costs.  Right?  Well, let's talk about how much the program is

No, actually, I was wondering how many suckers this ploy gets, but go on... Like I can stop you, of course...

> worth.  Considering the value of becoming a CERTIFIED MINISTER 
> I'd say the program is easily worth $100.  Wouldn't you agree?

Yes, certainly. And my time to read this crap, by that standard, is about $50,000. Pay up, schmuck.

> However, it won't cost that much.  Not even close!  My goal is to 
> make this life changing program affordable so average folks can 
> benefit from the power of it.

Oh, yeah, the average person needs to be an affordable minister. Right. Missed that one in Management class.

>             
> Since I know how much you want to help others, you're going to

Wow, you know me so well from one e-mail. Just one. I'm so impressed <YAWN>.

> receive your Minister Certification for under $100.00... Not even 
> $50.00...  You are going to receive the entire life-changing 
> course for only $29.95.

Oh, thank God. I thought this was going to degenerate into a game of hide-the-intern or something.

> 
> For only $29.95 you will receive:
> 1. 8-inch by 10-inch certificate IN COLOR, WITH GOLD SEAL.

Wow, REAL GOLD! That's got to cost you what, eight, nine cents TOPS?

> (CERTIFICATE IS PROFESSIONALLY PRINTED BY AN INK PRESS)

Your name, of course, is written in crayon. Our dean of students has signed his ... well, mark on the paper in his normal fashion; the smell should dissipate in a few months.

> 2. Proof of Minister Certification in YOUR NAME!!

Well, no shit. In YOUR name it would be worthless, right?

> 3. SHIPPING IS FREE!!!

So is air, but I wouldn't brag about it.

> 
> ***********************************************************************
> 
> LIMITED TIME OFFER: ORDER TODAY!

Does that mean if I ignore you you'll go away?

> SEND Only $29.95 US
> (CREDIT CARD, CASH, CHECK, OR MONEY ORDER)
> SHIPPING IS FREE!!!For Shipping  OUTSIDE the US please add  $11.00.

You know, I'd like to think that we had the corner on that low a grade of moron, but I guess we should allow for the possibility that other countries can produce idiots every bit as stupid as ours.

> 
> To place your order merely fill out the following form and fax to 
> 1-800-555-1212.  If this line is busy, please try faxing to 
> 1-800-555-1212.

For our sakes, please do not reply via e-mail. We're going to get shut down in about three hours when enough people complain to our ISP.

> 
> or mail to:
> 
> Internet Information Services
> PO Box 666
> Billings, MT 59104
>

Yeah, wrong PO Box, but I couldn't resist.

> 
> (ALL ORDERS FILLED WITHIN 24 HOURS OF RECEIVING THEM)
> *Please allow 8 days to receive your certificate by mail.
> If you do not receive your order within 10 days, please send us a 
> fax letting us know of the late arrival.  We will then contact 
> you to figure out why you have not received your order.

I would think that the angels would deliver the thing free of charge. They do for me, but I guess I'm holier than thou... hehehe.

> 
> *************************
> 
> This ad is produced and sent out by:
> Universal Advertising Systems
> To be removed from our mailing list please email us at 
> vanessagreen@freeze.com with remove in the subject line or
> call us toll free at 1-888-605-2485 and give us your email 
> address or write us at:
> Central DB Removal, PO Box 1200, Oranjestad, Aruba
> ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
> 
>

What, and miss the opportunity to giggle at you idiots some more? Not likely.

Personally, I think abusing them should be enough, but I'm probably on that list until hell freezes over. Though if Mr. Thompson asks, I've still got the real addresses and phone numbers.

Over in one of the other suburbs here, by name of Woodbury, they're in a bit of a bind at the high school. You see, some time back, the school decided to make it safer for students with "alternate lifestyles" to discuss them. They designated and marked areas with inverted pink triangles, and students who chose to could go to these areas and freely discuss their lifestyle choices, in comfort, in tolerance, without being abused or set upon.

But in January, a young fellow wore a sweatshirt to school. On the front, it read "straight pride" and on the back, the international symbols one sees outside restrooms - one male, one female.

As a prime example of the screaming stupidity that some people in this state have succumbed to, the principal of the school asked the young man to come into the office, and then told him that the shirt was inappropriate. Having made "safe havens" for gay and lesbian students, now this fellow was telling the young man who represented somewhere between 90% and 99% of the population that he was "inappropriate".

Does anyone else have a problem with this? I sure do. I'm sorry, but in a state where we had to get rid of Indian... Er, excuse me, Native American nicknames, regardless of the positive or negative connotations (Oh, yeah, I know "redskin" is probably not all that good, but come on - "Braves" is bad? "Warriors" are bad? The term "Indian" itself is bad? Come on, develop some thicker... epidermis or something), now being told that "it's not appropriate to show that you're proud of yourself unless you're different" is the absolute height of lunacy.

Why is it that if a group that is considered the "norm" or "majority" takes pride in itself, they're "persecuting the minority"; whereas the minorities can howl all they want about "fair treatment" and if they don't get it, it's "racism" or "sexism" or "discrimination."

I'm a white, anglo-saxon male. Sorry, not Protestant, but all the rest. And "WAS" is certainly more appropriate than WASP these days. If you say "hey, I'm proud to be who I am" that's fine. If I say "I'm a proud, white, male catholic" I'm treading a thin line. If I say "Hey, I'm proud I'm white" I've crossed the line.

Never mind the fact that I have to explain racism to my daughter, because she just doesn't get it - never mind the fact that I've got to explain sexism, as well, because she knows that she can do almost anything a man can; the almost covers things in the strength arena where we know that some men are stronger than women. However, there's an appreciable percentage of the female population that could kick my ass should I ask for it; I don't plan to. I like it just right where it is - up around my ears where my wife keeps it.

But why is it that "different" is today a matter of pride, and "majority" is a matter of shame? We all know that, no matter how you slice it, somewhere we fall out of the majority. I hate vegatables - whoops, bad example. I'm overweight - but then again, so's most of the population, depending on how you slice it. I'm not great at quadratic equations? Oh, well, you either? I've got it - I'm a computer geek! That's something to be different... But EVERYONE's different these days.

I would like to think that we've all got enough brain cells to be able to at once embrace differences and respect them, and at the same time not use them as a dividing line. If we can't do that, we're doomed to continue discrimination in some form or another for the next millennium as well. It's not the differences we should embrace, but the similarities. We're all people. White, brown, yellow, red, green, polka-dot, or plaid. Color, age, sex, and preference should be no reason to discriminate, either for or against, someone.

Gee. Am I arguing against Affirmative action? I guess I am. Before you go ballistic on me, back up a second. The basic reason Affirmative Action exists is because there USED to be discrimination, right? And now we're discriminating, but the other way, right?

Sorry, but discrimination, no matter how you fancy it up, is either always wrong or always right. There are few rigid absolutes left these days, but that's one of them.

Well, Mr. Blood and Guts Dominik survived the night sans concussion - er, let's say that he acted as he usually does. Whether or not that exhibits brain-damaged behavior or not, I can't really say. Anyway, that dark thing with the arrow pointing at it is his scar. About the width of an adult human thumb or so in length.

And it's nice to see another Microsoftie by day, something else by night member of the daynoters. Mr. Lincoln's welcome at my table any time - just whatever you do, don't incur the wrath of "the enforcer".

Speaking of, I see Mr. Thompson's looking for names for his place. Personally, I'm thinking something to do with Locker - heck, the guy just cleared a terabyte in disk storage; Storage Locker would fit. So would Weapons Locker, Meat Locker, and Dog Locker... Oh well.

At least today, rather than cursing the darkness, I lit a candle. It's a very slow candle, but it's a candle. Started downloading Linux through work. Yeah, the fine folks are allowing me to use Linux for a firewall. Do you think I can convince them to port all of our stuff over to a linux-based database? I didn't think so. The latest and greatest development (he said, hoping that he wasn't going to burst the NDAs wide open) is that we're considering a move away from SQL Server to "BizTalk". According to one of our C++ programmers, she's saying that C#, and various other things coming down the pike from Microsoft are certainly not as easy as they claim they are.

Oh, I know. I'm still laughing too. She should know by now, but I still thought it was funny. And speaking of work, I'm really hoping the computer was lying when I left tonight. At first it said it was going to take 12 hours to download SuSE Linux 7.1 - then it dropped to 8 days. Then, it dropped to 1521 days. THEN it dropped to 3621 days, 7 hours. I don't know about the rest of you, but if it takes ten years to download, I'm probably in trouble. We'll see how it goes tomorrow. Or how it went.

August 25th - She wants me to remember that date, as one of her ... well, the spare in-laws have a wedding. I'll leave it at that. Should she explain, I'll provide a link.

That's about enough foolishness for one day. I'm rewriting the white paper by day, trying to pick up DBA skills by night, and also preparing for vacation next week. Oh, boy, I can't wait. Though, tonight or tomorrow (probably tomorrow) I'll have to set up my temporary account at Willinet. $20 a month for internet access ain't cheap, but it works for me.

And I keep forgetting! Mr. Lemmings had a good one the other day with the "Geordie" version of Windows - reminds me of something I once did... Mr. Scott suckered me cold with his WozPDA bit last week - what can I say, he's a Rockies fan... And here I am, trying to convince The Boss that a larger vehicle with four-wheel drive would be good, and the best of the lot is the one that's got the longest proven track record - a Suburban. Doesn't require a fleet of Yugos to move it into a parking spot like the Excursion, but it's still big enough and nice enough to pass as a family car. And Mr. Kershner gets told "oh, hey, here." Sheesh.

Oh well. Once worked for a company that had a company car deal. Nice, but if you don't like the job, it's a double-edged sword.

As our camera pans across the scene, we see our usual correspondent is missing. In his place, in a fog of blue cigarette-created haze, we see a ... Penguin?

Interviewer : Excuse me?
Pengiun : Oh, <Bleep>. (stubs out cigarette).
I : Sir?
P : (pushes back visor) Yeah, what's the matter?
I : You're not our normal correspondent.
P : I know.
I : Say, aren't you -
P : DON'T SAY IT!
I : Your name?
P : Yeah - we use it, and he's in a world of hurt with trademark infringement, and all that crap.
I : Ok. But weren't you famous once?
P : Yeah. Couple of comic strips.
I : So why this?
P : We're old friends.
I : Really? How's that?
P : You don't want the long version.
I : Ok. Short version?
P : All right. College. Computer game. Needed a character. Picked one. Rest is History.
I : Really. I had no idea.
P : Yeah, we're pretty good friends. Couple of years go by, and we don't chat. Get together, and it's just like old times.
I : Really.
P : Yeah, he ends up puking off the balcony. And...
I : Yes?
P : His wife once went by the nickname "Lola".
I : Wasn't that?
P : Yeah. Cute irony, ain't it?
I : Yes. So where's -
P : Your normal correspondent had a bad day.
I : What's the matter?
P : I'd say "technical difficulties" but that's a very short version.
I : Really?
P : You say that a lot.
I : I'm sorry. I'm just used to our normal chats with the other fella
P : Well, he'd be here if he could.
I : Short version?
P : Okay. Bad day with computers. Tried downloading a big load of SuSE Linux 7.1...
I : Yeah?
P : Just a second. (picks up iPAQ) Note to self. Sue SOB who stole me for some OS. Got to be some licensing bucks in it.
I : Aren't there differences between you and that other penguin?
P : Oh, sure. He can sit, and is hardly ever seen in profile. That nutball that drew me ALWAYS put me in profile.
I : I thought it was your best side.
P : Sorry, pal. I ain't GOT a best side with this beak.
I : Sorry, sore spot. But aren't you relatively well off?
P : Me? Well off? Whatever gave you that idea?
I : Oh, I thought with all the books and merchandise...
P : You don't get it, do ya?
I : No.
P : Us comics guys, we work for freaking union scale. I got all of the hair tonic and herring I could carry off the set at the end of the day.
I : Sounds pretty cheap.
P : I know. I was talking to CB the other day...
I : CB?
P : You know, round-headed kid with a talking dog?
I : Oh, yeah, Pea-<ducks>
P : Damn. Missed. Are you slow?
I : Trademark and Copyright?
P : You got it, TC, babe, Tee-effing-Cee.
I : Okay. Roundhead.
P : Right. Anyway, CB got paid in kibble for the dog. Got a new mitt every other year.
I : Pretty cheap.
P : Yeah, but you should see his new contract.
I : Really?
P : 80% of all income on his phiz. Wow.
I : Fascinating. Our regular correspondent, though?
P : Yeah, anyway. Where were we?
I : Linux - SuSE.
P : Yeah. Download was 600 Meg, and then it choked.
I : Choked?
P : Yeah. Bombed out.
I : So what else? That's not normally enough to beat him into the ground.
P : Oh, I know. But I think it's his diet.
I : DIET?
P : Jeez. Shut up, or everyone will find out. You sure that thing's off (points to camera)?
I : Swear to God.
P : Okay. You look trustworthy enough (coughs).
I : Anyway. Diet?
P : Yeah. He's trying to lose weight.
I : Why?
P : Gee, I dunno. Something about being nearly 100% over his ideal weight?
I : Oh. I see.
P : So he's been watching what he's eating. Weight Watchers. He's not happy.
I : Really?
P : Yeah. It's a lifestyle adjustment. This guy used to eat chocolate like it was... well, water. Or herring.
I : Okay.
P : Yeah. And (leans forward, speaks softly) He's got some sort of dietary imbalance as well.
I : You don't mean...
P : Yeah. Something's not agreeing with him.
I : And...
P : Can clear a room. Makes your eyes water at twenty paces. Outdoors. You're upwind. In a hurricane.
I : Ouch.
P : It gets worse.
I : How's that?
P : 48 hours from a six-hour car ride.
I : Oh, no.
P : And...
I : You've got to be kidding me. It's worse?
P : Switches on the windows don't work.
I : Oh, no.
P : So anyway... (leans back). You sure that thing's off?
I : My hand to God.
P : Right. Anyway.
I : Doesn't sound too bad...
P : This afternoon he had to track down an accounting error.
I : Wait a minute. That's not in the programming, is it?
P : Nope. Stupid <bleeps> at CDW have about nine charges and credits on the boss's company card.
I : Not good.
P : Yeah. Especially when CDW doesn't know why they're there.
I : That's...
P : Borderline illegal?
I : You might be right.
P : Trust me. I've got enough experience with Attorneys by now.
I : Okay. Sounds like a really crappy day.
P : He did have one good bit of news.
I : That is?
P : Very nice fellow wrote. Knows a fellow who knows Gene Kranz.
I : The? "Failure Is Not An Option"?
P : Same. Made his freaking day. Gentleman offered to get the book signed.
I : Holy... Well... you know.
P : Yeah. Made his day.
I : Pretty cool.
P : Yeah. He thought so. Now if he wins the lottery tonight, he'll be back tomorrow with a wireless laptop to do this stuff...
I : So, if you don't mind me asking...
P : Autograph?
I : No, what are you doing in town?
P : Oh, you know that bald fellow?
I : The Governor?
P : The same.
I : What do you have to do with him?
P : Who else is the expert on Comic Characters as Presidential Candidates?
I : Oh. I see. You don't think...
P : That's his problem. He's not. If he runs, he's got to be nuts. But that's why I'm here.
I : Advice?
P : Yeah. And they've still got some nice ice. Hell, it's April. I can still floss my toes on a frozen lake up here.
I : But it was finally fifty here today. First time in 147 days. Since November 7...
P : Oh. Bad date.
I : Why's that?
P : 'Nother Presidential election I didn't win.
I : Oh. Sorry.
P : 'Sokay. I'm gonna go get plastered. G'nite.

Your regularly scheduled broadcast might return tomorrow. Or he'll be heavily medicated. One or the other.

Man, where's that rotten fish smell coming from? Who was that masked waterfowl? Oh well. First, the lost Wednesday post...

Shoot, It's Wednesday (SIW™). Or something. If it works for Walder, it works for me.

Last night, for some completely unknown reason, my Frontpage decided to barf out the entire contents of my web to the server; Oh joy, oh rapture. Oh happiness undefined. NOT! 15 megs of stuff transferred at 44K isn't a fun experience - certainly not when it's starting at 9:30 pm and you were hoping to be in bed by 9:45. There I was, 2 hours later, trying to shove bits down a wire faster. Lovely. The only thing I can think of is that I didn't reboot until yesterday; the DSC occurred right on schedule Sunday morning, and I published both Sunday and Monday without this foolishness. Yesterday, after the reboot, the damned thing decided to drive me nuts.

I published HER pages by the simple expedient of loading my old old copy of CuteFTP (no, no link, I'm back about five or six versions with what I've got, and it works for me) and shoveling it up there. Some weeks ago I was thinking I really needed to put something in place to put this all together in "Klingon". Let the wife use FP, I'll stick with what I know. Most of the time I do these posts in NotePAD (not NoteTAB, but the old Windows-integrated tool) and hand-code the HTML myself. That way I get what I need. But I tossed her page, and picture, up there in about 30 seconds. While FP was still publishing the entire folder of images I've got. Good grief.

The thing is, I've programmed before. I've used Visual Basic, but prefer Pascal. In fact, I've got a Windows 95 machine here for the express (and sole) purpose of using Turbo Pascal. It doesn't run on my Windows 98 box, but I'm going to give Dev-Pascal a try, from Bloodshed software. We'll see if I can use that to conglomerate all of this. And before you ask, yes, every single computer person in the world IS a masochist. Think about it. We work with machines that are supposed to do what we tell them to, and Mr. Gates has managed to come along and make it impossible for us to tell the machines anything; when we finally do get through to them, and tell them to go left, they back up and fall over. Oh well. Small steps, small victories.

Then, this morning, I realized that I offered a backhanded, offhanded welcome to the newest Daynotes Member, Mr. Greg Lincoln in yesterday's post. All of the links I'd intended to put in never got there some how (could I blame the right hand? The left? How about sheer stupidity? I've already seen my favorite excuse used once this week - "I plead youth and inexperience combined with many years of long and faithful service". Oh well). So, anyway, Welcome, Greg. And you know, one nice thing about being the tail-end sled dog is that, every once and a while, if you're feeling tired, you can hang in the traces. Or at least I could... Then that Kiwi fellow came along and woke me up from a sound slumber. Oh well. (<Evil Grin>). At least I'm still the cheese in a down-under sandwich.

Anyway, it could be much, much worse. My SuSE download, last night's 3621 days, dropped this morning to 2814, and 16 hours. I'm beginning to get a little worried. I grabbed the "current version" as it said. If that's the case, I'm in deep trouble, as it grabbed about a half-gig last night. Extrapolating that I somehow managed to pull down about 22% of this install, and that 22% comes to about 445 Megs, I'm looking at a 9+ Gig download. That can't be right, can it? Then again, JHR mentions his SuSE delivered came with 7 CDs, 1 DVD - that works out (on my handy-dandy buck-two-ninety-eight calculator) to 9.3 GB of storage. That scares me. Good thing I'm putting it on a machine with 24 Gig of hard drive space available... If anyone knows what I've done wrong, PLEASE let me know.

Never mind. Wrote the above at 11:26 am. At 11:55, turned around and saw "Download aborted". Sheesh. Starting over from a mirror this time, just in case. We'll see what we get. As of 13:50 hours it had gone from 6 to 11 days, and now it's at fifteen. I've got a good 60 Megs of stuff, as well.

And, after due consideration, I've decided that Hotmail might not be the best place for me to have my e-mail - I might soon find Mr. Gates quoting my witty repartee with many readers, etc., in his for-profit speeches. I chose hotmail many, many moons ago, as I was seeking web-based e-mail, accessible from home, work, or elsewhere, that was outside the "monitored" chain of command. As I was the one doing the monitoring, I wasn't too worried, but I thought it would be responsible of me to move my joke-getting and personal information outside where the prying eyes of those with nothing better to do would be left ... disappointed. So I'm moving to a new web-based e-mail system... though I've got a backup in case this goes into the chute...

And I don't know about the rest of you, but I'll offer my own apology to the Chinese people who are upset with our surveilance aircraft fracas. I'm sorry we flew an airplane of ours near your coast where your leaders could then send one of your people to be killed. I'm sorry that your government is trying to blame the United States for the incompetence of the Chinese designers who have designed the notoriously delicate F-8 fighter. I'm sorry you have young men who aren't smart enough to avoid the big flying thing with the whirling knives it uses as propellers. I'm sorry that your government is lying to you about the specifics of the incident, while keeping you from having more than one child. I'm sorry that your government seems to be so out of touch with reality that they think they can claim anything with the name "China" as sovereign territory. I'm very sorry that your government has decided to ignore the traditional behavior and activity common in such cases where a vehicle in distress must seek a safe harbor. I'm very sorry that you're holding 24 of our servicemen and I'm very, very sorry if you believe your government. I'm also sorry that we're likely to end up at daggers drawn over this particular incident, as it's clear that we're nearly matched in military might; you have more bodies, we've got more explosives we can deliver from far away. Finally, I'm sorry you're stuck under a communist regime that won't allow you to know what the facts of the case are, so that you can make up your own mind, and I'm sorry that you've lost the better part of two generations' worth of being able to think for yourselves.

That should solve it all (right, and if that works, we'll move on to the Mideast, where my powers of persuasion might not be as useful as other skills, such as my ability to ... well, we'll stop there. No point in revealing all of my secret weapons at once. All I'll say is if you once had the power to make a grown man lay down in the freeway in front of a speeding vehicle and pray for death, you can certainly imagine I can get my way... Or perhaps not. Oh well.

So far, the two biggest shocks of the week have been Daynoter photos. Jon Sturm, whom I pictured as this tall, skinny, elegant, balding man with a pipe or something turns out to look a lot like me. Poor fellow. And Phil Hough, you might want to stop in at work occasionally. Your web site links to a web cam view, but I think that twelve-year-old who's behind the computer is screwing things up.

It's rather funny how you can get a picture in your head of the individual you think you're dealing with, then you find out "he sounds nothing like he writes". Ain't that a kick in the ... somewhere or other.

And speaking of kicks in the ... well, there, today Microsoft pleasantly surprised me. I know, I was due - it's been all of four months since the last one. This time, I had a support person who had a problem at a client site. They weren't fully replicating, and it would bomb. Of course, not right away, but at the end, after about 30 minutes (these are dialin users so Pain Times Two, if you catch my drift. Zesty...). It blew up after all this time, and it was fairly consistent.

I did a quick search in the knowledge base, and lo and behold, I found this article which fits, exactly, the issue. Wow. Will miracles never cease?

Oh well. Off for laundry, packing, and hopefully, a little extra sleep. Yah, right.

That was yesterday, and ... well... Before we return to your regularly scheduled broadcast, we're leaving for a week in Iowa in about 24 hours or so... And this is just about perfect timing...

Don't order filet mignon or pasta primavera at Jonesy's. It's a diner. They serve breakfast 24 hours a day. Let them cook something they know. If you upset the ladies in the kitchen they'll kick your ass.

Don't laugh at the names of our little towns (Greeley, Strawberry Point, Correctionville, Maquoketa, Lost Nation, Cresco, etc.) or we will have to kick your ass.

Don't order a bottle or a can of soda here. Here it's called "pop" Accept it. Doing otherwise can lead to a good, solid ass kicking.

We know our heritage. Most of us are more literate than you. We are also better educated and generally a lot nicer. Don't refer to us as a bunch of hicks or we'll kick your citified ass.

We have plenty of business sense. You have to make a living here. Naturally, we do sometimes have small lapses in judgment from time to time, but we are not dumb enough to let someone love to our state in order to run for the Senate. If someone tried to do that, we would kick her ass.

Don't laugh at our giant fiberglass strawberries and our Five Seasons trees made out of metal. Anything that inspires tourists to buy 50,000 postcards can't be bad. And in Cedar Rapids don't point at the genitalia on Frank and laugh or we'll kick your ass.

We are fully aware of how cold it gets here in the winter, so shut the hell up. Just spend your money and get the hell out of here or we'll kick your ass.

Don't order the vegetarian special at the local diner. Everyone will instantly know that you're a tourist. Eat your steak well done like God intended and have some potatoes with that, for heaven's sake! Also, don't ask what a hot dish is or we'll kick your ass.

Don't try to fake a Iowa accent. We don't have an accent. Do NOT mention the movie "Field of Dreams" because that will incite a riot and you will get your ass kicked.

Don't talk about how much better things are at home because we know better. Many of us have visited big-city hellholes like Detroit, Chicago, and Minneapolis, and we have the scars to prove it. If you don't like it here, Interstate 80 is ready when you are. Move your ass on home before it gets kicked.

Don't complain that Iowa is flat and that all you can see is corn and hogs. If you whine about OUR scenic beauty we'll kick your ass all the way back to Milwaukee. And if you're not from Milwaukee, tough. Whiners belong there. Go drink some 'sconnie bear.

Don't ridicule our mannerisms. We only speak when spoken to. We hold doors open for others. We offer our seats to old folks because such things are expected of civilized people. Behave yourselves around our sweet, little gray-haired grandmothers or they will kick some manners into your ass just like they did ours.

So you think we're quaint or losers because most of us live in a cornfield? That's because we have enough sense to not live in filthy, smelly, crime-infested cesspools like New York or LA. Make fun of our fresh air and we'll kick your ass.

Writing it "Ioway City, Home of the Hogeyes" is NOT a joke. Your ass will be kicked. Then introduced to some real Hawkeyes. You'll be able to tell the difference. Or run fast...

Last, but not least, DO NOT DARE to come out here and tell us how Iowa should "go back to the Indians". This will get your ass shot right after it gets kicked. Just mention this once and you will go home in a pine box.

Apologies for the non-existent post of yesterday. Wrote the damned thing at work (knowing full-well I had laundry and other chores last night), and forgot to mail it home. Attempted to recreate it, and my always-reliable computer did what you'd expect - You got it, locked up tighter than a ... well, damned tight, and had to reboot.

So, we're cleaning and packing in preparation for a week with my mother-in-law. Yup. Five people in a two-bedroom apartment. Now you know what I do for vacation. Yes, I'm demented.

That, and I'm trying to hide from an ugly, ugly little fact I'd rather not have to deal with. Today, my company reported their performance, and joined the rest of the computer industry. Profits were down, performance was down, and one hundred and sixty people were let go. Twenty percent of our overall workforce. Including two people in my office. Two pretty good friends, who taught me a whole lot. Not me, thank God. It sounds cruel, but having been on both sides of the equation, it sucks to be on either side; sucks more, much, much more, to be on theirs, though.

And then, after that fact became widely known, we were called into a meeting, and we're all taking a voluntary pay cut for the next three months, until the end of June. Ten percent. Boy, doesn't THAT just make vacation restful.

So, in a word, yeah, I'm about as comfortable as a cat in a hydrant factory, next to a kennel. Yeah. Nervous. I'm not too sure I want to stick around but then again, with the economy like it is, I'm not so sure about jumping ship, either.

Part 1
Find a firehose. Get a fairly large sheet of plexiglass. Sit behind it. Have someone point the hose at the plexiglass, and turn on the water. Do that for four hours. Then, do it again in the dark.

Part 2
Pothole : Large hole in the ground that cars fall into. Drive down a road you've driven about 30 times before; just don't drive down the road for about nine months. Then do it in the dark.

Part 3
Find a small closet or other enclosed space. Make sure it's got shelving. Place heavy cans of vegetables, etc., on high shelves where they SHOULD NOT fall. Then huddle in the closet for a couple hours.

Part 4
Find someone small and annoying. Put them behind you and make them noisy people for a couple of hours.

We left Burnsville about 6 pm - but we had to stop for gas and dinner. And Dinner was a disaster we didn't expect. Took an hour to get a pizza and breadsticks. In the end, roughly $35 worth of food cost us $15 because of the discount they gave us.

This hour's delay ended up putting us right along the leading edge of our first severe-weather front of the year. This meant we drove mostly through downpours you couldn't see three feet in. Twice they activated the Emergency Warning System on the radio to let us know about the severe thunderstorms happening around us. Once we pulled into a Kwik Trip and sat for about fifteen minutes before proceeding, because the next town, nine miles down the road (Westby) was getting shellacked, and would be out from under a severe thunderstorm warning by the time we went through. It was almost worth the wait.

Now, most of you will think of Minnesota and Iowa as fairly flat. For 90% of both states, you're right. But as my Earth Sciences teacher Mr. Zirbes taught me in high school (though I knew this from far earlier), southeastern Minnesota, western Wisconsin, and north-east Iowa were all the "beneficiaries" of what's called "glacial poo-poo". That's the technical term. You see, glaciers tend to scrub things flat. When they do this, the things they've scrubbed need to go somewhere. And in the last ice age, they came to southeastern Minnesota, et. al.

So, instead of the incredibly flat region you might expect, we have "lumps". Two - to - five hundred feet, or more, of "stuff" sticking out of the ground. Some of this became hills and the like. Which makes going through very dense fog even more of a thrill-ride.

Oh, well. We survived, and we're here. If I can dial in to Willinet tonight, we'll be set and you'll see this. That should be pretty cool. We'll see how this works.

Aw, screw it. I can't see straight right now and that is THE WORST time to attempt computing hoo-raw. And 21 hours after the alarm first went off is just too damned long for this boy. G'nite.

Ah, yes. And after that, we went for lunch at the Flapjack, which is one of the four or five restaurants in town here. Then we did grocery shopping at the Jack and Jill, and I'm always amused by the liquor in the first aisle. They can do that down here.

After the first grocery store, we had to go to a second for a few things, then back to the first for the compromise items we couldn't find in town, then to church.

Now, I've got a rather special connection to this particular building. It was where I got married, where my father-in-law and grandmother-in-law were buried out of, and it's a special place. Aside from the events, it's a pretty neat architectural structure - the entire visible wall structure is brick, and the wall tops out with a band of fourteen inch or so high windows. The roof structure is held up by eight posts around the perimeter, and one fairly large concrete structure.

Over the last year they remodeled the church, eliminating the cry room, and introducing a new baptismal font. Unfortunately, they seemed to have acquired the new font from some building supply place which was having a clearance sale on hot tubs. Oh well.

Today's mass had one of the longest gospels in the Catholic church year. Now, granted, each church is a wee bit different in how they do things, music, and etc., but I had no idea things were THAT different here in Iowa. For example, in the first reading from Isaiah, according to the lector he "set his face like Flynn..." I thought it was "flint" but oh well... Though the other ones that had me wondering - I didn't know it was Herod and his friend "Pirate". I thought the fellow's name was Pilate. And then, well, I guess I had no idea that Jesus was mourned and "laminated". I thought he was "lamented" but oh well.

And then, this evening, the plan was to head up to "The Loft" for a bite to eat and a few drinks. At least, that was the plan, but it just didn't work that way. We got there, and I had two Lynchburg Lemonades (one shot Jack Daniels Whiskey, one shot Triple Sec, and one shot lemonade, fill the rest with some fizzy stuff. Yummmmm).

And, by now, you know that the plan and the realization never quite work out. Jack and Rhiannon were pitching fits, and Jack finally asked, nicely, if he could go home. So, he and I got up and walked back to Grandma's - only about ten blocks, no biggie. 'Course, I hadn't gotten dinner yet, so two stiff drinks on an empty tummy was probably a little unintelligent. Oh well.

Tomorrow we're going to head out to a local winery, Tabor's, and see what the fuss is about. While I'm not trying to horn in on the Good Doctor's good offices, bottom line is that I keep hearing all of the benefits of drinking red wine, so I've got to find something along those lines that I like. Biggest problem I have is that I positively hate dry wines. I prefer sweet, but I'm sure that the sweet wines lack the health benefits, because that's how it always works for me. Oh well. We'll see how it goes.

Seven-frigging-thirty. That's when "I want to sleep in" and "mommy, I'm tired" woke my butt up out of bed. Aren't they just lovely? Apparently "vacation" to them means getting your butts up early to annoy the parents.

So I annoy right back. "You guys keep this up and you'll be taking naps all week long!" "Fine by me" little miss "I want to sleep in" says. Am I still slightly squiffed, or did I just screw up big-time? Oh well. Good news is that we all had parents, we're all still (mostly) here, and we've not yet screwed up so badly that we're in need of a good getaway car. Or, at least, most of us aren't.

Wal-Mart's a little weird like that. If I do run across the ultra-cheap printer it will be in the returns section, probably sans box and other things, and the printer cable will cost me as much (here) as the printer does.

After that, there's the outting (we hope) to Tabor Hill Winery. Very, very poor excuse for a web site, either here or there. But for what they lack in web design, they make up for in wine knowledge, apparently. Doing quite well in regional competitions, I've been told, and they know their stuff. So we'll see if they can help us out with our difficulties. Of course, I'm certain that we won't be able to pick up wine for cheaper than we get grape juice in the stores like some people I could mention, but then again, we don't speak French and likely couldn't swing that deal anyway, as we're the typical ugly American Touristas.

And you know, my little corner of the universe is encountering massive revisions. Yes, massive. Here I was believing that Mr. Thompson invented the concept of a daily-updated web site. I think I've found someone doing it for much, much longer. Dennis Voy is a pretty big wheel here in Maquoketa. He owns the Radio Station, and I think he also works in it - he also owns the theater (The Voy, naturally), the Drive-in, and up until a few months ago, he also owned the KFC. He's got you covered coming and going. Anyway, since June of 1997, Dennis has been "SCREAMING" his daily reports. I'll warn ya, they're long (yes, longer than mine), they're bottom-up chronologically (which drives me nuts, as I have to go to the bottom, scroll up to the date, read down. Scroll up to the date, read down. Scroll up... Oh. Sorry.

Anyway (Ew! Naked Mother-In-Law Alert!) Dennis updates with local news. If you've never been here, or if you've never lived in a small town, you wouldn't appreciate it.

Oh, hell. Quite morning's over. Mom's up, Grandma's up, and the small people have gone from "low industrial noise level" to "considered a military offensive weapon" levels. Pray for me. More updates later, should I survive. And more pictures. I promise.

Whoever said Iowa is flat hasn't been to this end of the state. The view above is from the Tabor Winery. They've got one heck of a view. The pictures really don't do it justice, but we'll live with it for now.

And let me tell you, if you're ever in this neck of the woods, head out there. E-mail me for the directions, if need be. Because they were most accommodating people we've run into.

We tried mouthfuls of at least nine wines. I wonder if that means we were driving under the influence? Oh well. We ended up with a few bottles of wine to try and see how we like. One's a cranberry dessert wine, another's with grapes and rhubarb, and there are a couple of others.

Now the Tabor Winery's a small chunk of a much larger farm, you'd think - the barn and house are back from the main road a mile, and it appears that the entire surrounding countryside belongs to them. Which is just fine by me with their wine-making abilities.

They've won a few awards, and had quite a bit of success. Considering we paid about $30 for four bottles of wine, it had better be good. But anyway...

Meatloaf and baked potatos, and Ice Cream Sundae cake tonight for dinner. Yummmmmmmy. Hope your day's as good as mine.

	After all of that crap last night, we get this and seventy degrees. Good Grief. We're going to head over to the fairgrounds a little later and see if we can do whatever Easter things they're doing over there.
	And this is my kids on Grandma's "Porch". She's got an area about eight or nine feet (two meters, thereabouts) deep, where you can sit and watch the traffic. My pasty-winter white children...
*More later...*
	Let's see. We got up and going out to the fairgrounds and they were having a spring-type thing. Petting zoo and the like. This is Jack on a horse they had. Very, very soft coat on the thing. I didn't know that.
	They also had a firetruck there. And this is Jack attempting to get into the firefighting spirit with a facemask. The straps on the thing would fall right down around his neck.
	Now, the very good thing is that my son is not a firefighter. If some municipality were depending on him, the town might burn down before he got there. And by "town" I'm thinking someplace about the size of Chicago.
	And one more scene from the petting zoo. This is Beef. There was also Pork and Chicken there. I'll spare you those.
	And this is the cowboy kids. You might notice her hair flying around - that would be because at about the moment I was taking this picture, we got hit by a gust of wind that had to be about forty miles an hour, straight-line winds. What fun.

The weekly Diary of a PC Geek