DOAB Week of May 21st, 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.

I have a confession to make...

Last night, I found out that someone I mourned, someone I had great respect for, and someone who I thought was gone, never really was. I couldn't do anything about it at the time, so I went to bed. To quote that great American Philosopher, Bartholomew J. Simpson, "In times of trouble, you go with what you know, man."

There are plenty of resources for this whole conspiracy thing. Frankly, I'm not going to link them here. I'm also not going to scream in rage at those who were duped by this thing. They feel poorly enough. I know I do. I'm not going to do anything destructive, because, frankly, what's gone on has been destructive enough.

I'm going to supply you with some facts. These come from the America Cancer Society. Did you know that 1500 people A DAY die just in this country from cancer? Did you know that, last year, 21,700 died from Leukemia? That's one person every 24 minutes. Did you know that the five-year survival rate for lung cancer is 49%, when detected early, but only 15% of the estimated 164,100 people, or 24,615, are detected early. So that means that, of those 164,100, you can expect over 141,000 of them to be dead before 2007, given the current overall five-year survival rate of 14%.

Cancer kills. It's not at all surprising that someone would know three people who've died from it. It's also known that certain areas of this country, notably those that are chemical and petroleum processing centers, have a higher incidence of these cancers. The chemical list that allegedly causes various cancers is long, incomplete, and partially inconclusive.

A line from Princess Bride sums this up well.
"You mock my pain!"
"Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something."

What we have here, folks, is a modern parable. A story, told to illustrate many, many points. A well-told story. A touching, nearly-timeless (but for the internet) story of a young girl fighting against odds, and winning.

Where the parable goes awry is in the deliberate deceptive methods used to publicize this story. I'm not calling it a hoax because I do not believe that the intent was malicious. No one made money off of this. If anyone did, I'm going to be very upset, and right up front calling for fraud investigations. Not that there would be much point, as this whole thing is pretty international. Untangling the mess that it is would be too expensive, too time-consuming, and too wasteful. Why bother?

Certainly, this would look quite good on a resume. I only wish I was half the writer this person is. But then again, I only make it up as I go along, and deal with the cards I'm dealt. I don't reshuffle the deck to get a better situation for myself because the story of my life didn't end the way I wanted it. Please rest assured that, when my time comes, I'll have an obit in a paper newspaper (if they still exist), and I'll haunt a few of you.

That e-mail from "Kaycee" I have? Still saved. In the "dumb things I've done" folder rather than the "inspirations" file. The memories I'll take from this? Friends pulling together to honor a spirit that showed great courage, great compassion, and great hope for the future. Good, real people who are trying, hard, to make a new "medium" work. What will I leave behind? The "events" that "occurred". I've no way to tell what did, and what did not, and I would doubt the claims of anyone who would protest that this-or-that actually did happen.

I know I'm real. I've been here for 37 years, 6 months, and 15 days, and been self-aware for perhaps 35 of that. I remember there being one of four sisters there, which meant somewhere along the line prior to August, 1966.

I know Keri Beland is real, as I've spoken to her on the phone. Therefore, I assume Matt is, as well. I have a fundamental faith that Bob Thompson, Jerry Pournelle, Tom Syroid, Dave Farquhar, Brian Bilbrey, and Bob Walder (and all the other daynoters) are real, because, frankly, I've held their work in my hands, relied on it, used it. I've not set eyes on them. I've not shaken hands with them. I've not verified ID against government database to verify that the lump of matter before me is what they say they are, but I believe. And I've a fundamental faith that the Good Doctor Keyboard is real, because no one could have such a mix of exciting and boring

. Phil Hough, on the other hand, I believe to be a complete fabrication - that guy has too many boring Sundays and goes on holiday way too often - sounds like a fantasy life to me (just kidding Phil).

But I digress. I'm not impugning the existence of any of the other daynoters, or others that I read on the web. Yes, there are certainly times that I look around and swear that we're all in The Matrix, and there's no reality here. But then again, I'm sure that's what the characters in the Matrix thought as well. And as for waking up in a vat of slime, thank you, no - I'll stay asleep, ignorant, and be the best drone I can be. Times of trouble, you understand.

By nature, we are a very trusting species. We have to be. At birth, we're capable of very, very little. Compare us to animals that are capable of running only a few hours after birth, and our rather laughable attempts at motion are just too comical to be effectively self-preservationary. We have to trust that others will warm us, cool us, feed us, and make sure we do not lie in our own waste products for weeks on end. We are incapable of rolling over for several MONTHS after birth - even the simplest of activities is a massive undertaking.

As children, we trust. I can see it in my children. When I yell, time and again, at my son for running around in parking lots and not holding my hand as he should, I get this wide-eyed innocent look - "Why?" He trusts others to avoid him. I don't. I've seen far, far too many bad examples around to believe that Jack's luck will hold out the full hundred or more years I'd like to see him live. If it's got to last him a lifetime, let's hold onto it for later, when we'll really need it.

As our children grow, we're forced to break off some of this trust. "Avoid this person if you see him, they molest children." "Avoid that area, you could be killed." "Don't do that, because you could catch this." And so on. We grow to have perhaps the most effective brain on the planet (I say perhaps because while we've produced our share of geniuses, we're as yet unable to find meaning in things like whales singing, Dolphins clicking, and all the other animals that communicate - if we're so smart, we should be able to translate their communications as well - of course, on the other end, we've also managed to produce things like serial killers, mass murderers, and child molesters. A fun and happy bunch we are, eh?). Yet the part that trusts has been continually hemmed in and trimmed.

That trust, both nurtured and pruned, occasionally gets abused. Like the whole incident here with Kaycee. I'm not blaming anyone else. I went to the site. I kept going back again and again and again. If I close my "trust eyes" I can see where the whole thing might have been smoke and mirrors. If I close my "conspiracy eyes" I can read a tremendous story of courage and grace and dying well. I read "Debbie's" words last night with my mouth open. I'm in awe, truly, of her capabilities. Did she have this written and plotted in a daytimer somewhere? "May 15 - Kill off Kaycee character - do not post as mom until may 17."

I'm guessing that, as an amatuer, she had no idea how far this would go. I'm no professional liar, but it seems to me that it's easier to remember a story by keeping it simple. This story seems to have been well-thought-out, and there's little to tip the gullible reader into disbelief. But it seems that there's a forthcoming "convention" for people who do this sort of thing (no, I'm not going to it - no interest in it, frankly) drove the decision to "kill" Kaycee as she would otherwise be expected to show up and show off.

Please note that I used the term liar above. I believe that she lied. If she had presented, up front, that her work was a collection of ... well, assembled true stories, or "this all happened, but not to the same person," I wouldn't have visited so often. I wouldn't have spent quite the time I did in re-reading the posts, in looking for comfort in the nuggets left behind. If this deception "wasn't deliberate" then why didn't the woman say "this is a work of fiction"?

I hope most of you know the story of the Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein. If you don't, go find a copy and read it. We're not trees, and we're not meant to be trees. We're meant to be people. We live, we laugh, we love, we grow, we give, we take, we live, we die. In this case, someone took liberties with lives, and made a fable. Since we didn't know it was a fable, we invested. As we were deceived, we are angry. What we should feel is pity that someone could go through all that and need to issue such a cry for help.

I'm mad at the only real person I can lay my hands on at the moment - myself. And that's how it should be. I'm going to sit on the stump of my trust, and think about how I can get this tree to grow again. It's my tree, and it's going to take a while. In the mean time, I've got to concentrate on not chopping down the trees my children are growing.

On the reality front, no news about work. At this point the shoe is falling, we just don't know when it will land.

Well, tomorrow is "the day"...

It's actually "the day" for a couple of reasons. Since about 1991, I've been going to the Strictly Business Computer Expo in Downtown Minneapolis. At that time, I was working for a company that didn't have much in the way of a training budget. As a result, the chance to wander amongst companies turning out the best and newest products was a chance I had to take.

At the time, the show took up only one of the three "domes" in the Convention center. To give you some idea of how big this place is, two years ago I was helping to set up the convention for Great Clips, my employer of the time. In one of these domes where we were setting up, we found a semi-truck. Tractor and trailer. And I swear, they looked like toys.

Over the years the show grew, the silly give-aways grew, and so did the volume of information we received from the show. Two years ago, I received an envelope in the mail which invited me to join the "advisory council" for the show, and come in early for breakfast. After breakfast we got a fast tour of the show floor, and then front-row seats at a debate between the leading luminaries of the day about the forthcoming boom in Linux.

Last year, the deal sweetened, with free parking, along with a "bring your staff" pass. I brought my co-worker, who had shown interest in the thing, and we wandered.

Last year, the show took up all three domes in the convention center. And, it seemed to me, it was a little desperate. Now I know why.

Tomorrow, I'm going back to that show as Joe Normal - no free breakfast, or free parking, to look and learn and see what's out there. I'm also taking a copy of my resume. Because tomorrow is also the day they will start to discuss our "package" with us. That would be severance/termination. Again. So yes, here we go again. I'll try not to weep and wail too much.

So, I should have some pretty good news tomorrow evening. Plenty of recruiters there, and I'm not going to spend too much time with them. I will be checking with companies, to see if they're hiring. We'll see how it goes.

At least I've got a long list of songs that now work with Tuesday... And the very best of news is that I've got fifteen resumes going out via e-mail this evening. Since I'd planned on six to eight, I'm feeling pretty good about myself.

Don't Panic...

I could make a career out of it, but I doubt it. I'm reminded of the fellow mentioned in Heinlein's "The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress". The one who one day withdraws his savings and purchases his own cannon to polish, after working for the government all those years.

Yes, today was the Strictly Business Expo. Didn't start out too well. She had discussed with me the probability of car-pooling this morning, and apparently I agreed. Somewhat foolishly, in hindsight. So, I hopped in the car with the rest of the family this morning and had happy chatter all the way to school. Completely foreign to my "get in, start the car, turn on the radio, and say not one word until you run into someone at work, something like two, two-and-a-half hours later."

So, we get them to daycare, and then head off to catch Ann's bus - one problem. . . We're too late for the bus. So, I take her downtown. One problem. Traffic. We get off the freeway and take city streets. No problem. Get her downtown in plenty of time. I get onto the freeway, and head from St. Paul to Minneapolis. At this point, I come into downtown on about the opposite corner from where I want to be.

And there's a good point for you folks looking for meeting/convention space this year. Stay the heck out of Minneapolis Downtown. If there's a single street that's not having some work done on it downtown, it's a one-way. Going the wrong way. Or was for me this morning. After making the big loop past the dome, through downtown, clear over to the Target Center and back again (Imagine, if you will, a typical, crowded city center, most streets three or four lanes wide, most one way, and most clamped down to half their width due to construction or deliveries, and that city center's a circle about five miles across. Now, do it at 10 mph. It felt like that....). I finally found my preferred parking ramp (Orchestra Hall), and it was full. Across the street was the Hilton, which was charging (I think) $9 for event parking. I said to myself "self, you can do better than that." Found I couldn't, at least not via the surface lots, which wanted my keys and charged more. Don't like doing that, so I went back. Hilton was full. Went around the corner and got one of the last 20 spaces on the $11.95 a day ramp. And mind you, a "day" downtown is anything over four hours. Since I was getting in at 8:40 am, and the show doesn't normally open until 10 am, and I usually take four hours to go through it, there's very little difference between "squat" and "diddley-squat" here.

So, I parked. Found my way through the skyway to the Convention Center, and got a bit of a shock. A friend of my sister's was working registration. Small world, indeed.

And getting smaller. As I noted above, last year's Strictly Business filled most of three domes at the convention center. Think of an area about the size of three city blocks. Yeah, about that big. Anyway, last year the place was filled nearly wall-to-wall. This year it was, as well. But not quite.

The booths seemed bigger, the aisles wider, and there were more places to sit and rest without being assaulted by the ever-more-desperate sounding salesmen and women. One fellow asked me
"Are you hiring?"
"No, actually, we might be shutting down."
"That's too bad. You sure you're not looking for help?"
"Let's put it this way. We've laid off 20% of our workforce, lost another 20% in my office to attrition, and now the manager's leaving. We've got six people - four in development and two in support."
"You sure you're not hiring?"

No. We're going to add the forty people like I was told in my interview, and we're going to go great guns on plenty of new development. Once we get profitable. And we'll be doing it in another location.

I did discover a few things - such as a sure-fire way to go blind (no, not that way, Mat). Spend several days in a Seattle-like climate, then emerge from a dark stairwell onto the roof of a parking garage surrounded literally on all sides by glass buildings. When the sun is out. Yeah, blind. It wasn't fun, stumbling around, trying to find my car. Then I had to drive...

I did run into a few people I knew at the show - far fewer than an average year, but then again, there weren't as many really impressive technologies, either. Maybe it's a case of not having anything to apply the stuff to in the near term, but I didn't really see anything that had me saying "wow, that's too cool."

Oh well. Tomorrow I go in, reformat and re-setup two machines for class next week, and then clean off a server so we can use it for our source-safe storage. THEN figure out how to get source-safe backed up over the network via good old internal NT Backup. Hopefully there's nothing tricky there. And if there isn't, I'm sure I'll find a way to make it tricky. Oh well.

Oh, hell. I've just lost my standing as a Star Trek fan. I'm missing great big blocks of stuff here. Last I'd heard, there were plans for the whole "Starfleet Academy" series to go forward. Now, it seems "Enterprise" will be the next series. Come on, you can all say it with me ... "...No bloody A, B, C, or D." And not even the NCC-1701, either, I guess.

And, while I'd rather not say anything further about the whole Kaycee thing, I'd like to say this - at least we all now can say we had an imaginary friend. Behave, now, I've got to go put away laundry.

Bum ba-dee-dah, bum ba-dee-dah...

Since I can't type in key, that's the old theme from "Happy Trails" - you know the song... "Happy trails, to you, until we meet again...":

No, no news yet today. Unofficially, I've been told that we're staying open, and we will have jobs as long as we want them. Which is good. The other good parts haven't been put in writing, so I'm not yet sure if they're really going to happen. If they do, of course, I'll let you know as much as I can.

Let's just say that I feel quite a load has been lifted. I'm still looking, but the desperation isn't there.

Anyway, welcome from Seattle, home of the Mariners and everlasting rain... At least, it sure seems like it. Yesterday, I came out of the computer show into one of three bursts of sunshine to come out all day, as far as I could tell. This morning, I drove to work in rain, it's rained all day, and it's still raining. And I think the itching between my fingers and toes is either some sort of fungal infection from the tropical climate, or an indication I'm growing webbing. Neither prospect has me especially thrilled.

My wife is certain to get some mileage out of three topics I heard on the radio this morning - Jeffords moving to "independent", Jesse Helms contemplating retirement, and Strom Thurmond in ill health. Mileage, hell. I just might have to sedate her. I think "giddy" would be an understatement. I'm not quite in the same camp, but there you go.

Frankly, I'm a little upset with Jeffords, as he's been supported by Vermont's Republican Party for something like thirty years. I would think that their loyalty to him would be repaid. Then again, one would think that when a deal is made, the deal would be kept. Such as the one Jeffords made to get special ed funding back into school budgets, only to have it wiped out by a bunch of rather vindictive .

I guess the Jesse Helms thing makes a little more sense. After all, the fellow's still the junior senator... But Strom Thurmond, I guess, has served longer in the senate than anyone, including statues, furniture, carpeting, and reference materials. I guess electing a 97-year-old man last year was not a good idea. Then again, if he dies in office I'm sure there's plenty of benefits.

The one I don't think he'll like is that a Democrat gets to pick his successor. However, from his front seat where ever he ends up (and I have my suspicions), I'm pretty sure he won't be laughing for too long.

I'm guessing that Dub will say that it's unfortunate these things happen. Then, he'll go behind closed doors and start biting staffers and frothing at the mouth. If Dick Cheney doesn't end up back in Walter Reed or some other hospital in the next month, I'll be very surprised.

And a long weekend coming up for us here in the States. Most people say "yipee, day off" and don't remember why Monday's special. We'll deal with that one later. Anyway, I feel slightly better about this Friday than last, but I couldn't tell you why.

Then again, I think I can. First off, let me promise you that this will be the second-to-last time I mention the whole Kaycee fiasco - the last being "I've annotated all of the fiddly bits here so you know I was suckered". But I remain impressed by the level of research and discussion that's occured over this whole, sordid mess. If you'd rather skip the whole mess, click here to get beyond it.

I will admit that the morning after I found out she'd "died", I looked for an obit. To see if there was a way to get flowers sent, but I looked. Found the Peabody and Newton papers. Noticed obits, but nothing about the fictitious young lady. So I said to myself "this stuff sometimes takes time. It will show up eventually; plenty of time, especially in a sudden death." I said, assuming that since she died rather suddenly, there would be some research into her death, as in an autopsy, before the burial.

When I heard the news that she'd already been memorialized, cremated, and there was a pending memorial service for some of her friends locally, I felt badly. I was raised to do better.

Then it all fell apart. As I said before, I sat with my mouth open, reading this woman's massive deception. How she tricked so very, very many people.

I guess what concerns me is what happens "next time." There will be someone, probably a young woman. She will have been burned or harmed or disfigured in some way that will lead her to not want her picture on the web. She will write well, maybe even beautifully. She'll suffer some horrible disease that will have her fighting the odds, winning some battles, losing others, and in the end, maybe succeeding.

And in the very end, the young lady will die. Some will say "I knew it was going to happen." Others will claim she never existed. We could sit here and blame the revisionists who claim they knew, all along, it was a fake, or we could sit here and blame those who were deeply suckered for perpetrating the fraud.

And all the while, some little girl's family will be mourning. That's the saddest part to me is that this "Debbie" character has chosen to tell a story in such a way as to harm the next person who might need help and support.

Though it occurs to me, he said, that it takes far less courage to stand and say "I suspected as much" than it does to say "I loved, and lost. Multiple times. No suspicions." I wish I'd caught on that the whole thing was a fake. I can imagine what Randy van der Woning is going though right now, in some small part. I didn't edit her posts daily. I didn't provide bandwidth out of the goodness of my heart (and if you believe bandwidth is free, check out the banner on the top of this page - if it were free, and storage was free, I wouldn't be shilling for whatever it is that's up there this time...). Mr. van der Woning caught quite a bit of heat for his hosting this hoax. None of it, frankly, deserved. Imagine being in his shoes. One week, you find out your friend is well. The next, you hear she's dying. Then, as you prepare to fly to meet her, you hear she's dead. Then, as you deal with your grief and regret, comes "well, she wasn't exactly real". Then comes "well, sort of". Finally, the "she was an imaginary construct from three different people." I suspect the truth is more "I wanted to tell a story in a new medium, and you were gullable."

There are plenty of people to feel sorry for. Such as those who sent gifts. Those who sent jewelry. Those who sent things like pictures of themselves or their children. Those scare me the most. I'm very trusting of people; that's probably where Jack gets it. I'm suspicious enough to make sure my children are watched every second of every day; that's why they're in a daycare center instead of an in-home. That's why they're in a school where they take a hands-on approach to learning, in all forms.

When it comes to friends, I'd rather be surrounded by trusting, open individuals than those whom you have to pry open with a crowbar. That's why, he said, plugging shamelessly, it's neat to be a member of this particular on-line community. I don't mean just the "Daynoters" or "bloggers" or whomever is trying to put a label on it, but a part of a community that's willing to say "hey, we care". And, equally prepared to say "boy, that one stung. Oh well. We'll be more careful next time." Those cowards who now come out and say "well, I thought, but it was imprudent of me to say..." Yeah. Right. I guess I'm willing to say "I was fooled" - someday maybe those others will mature to a point where they can admit it. Sure, some of us got suckered. Some of us had damned good reasons for not putting up links. That's fine. Revisionistas, feh.

It takes all kinds of courage to get out of bed, some mornings. Some mornings it doesn't. And if you don't believe that, I can't really help you, because your universal perceptions are somewhat skewed from mine. Talk to someone who worries every time the phone rings, someone who is frightened to go to the mailbox, someone who worries every time they write a check, or worries at each knock on the door. It's not fun. For some people, it's daily life. Walk a mile in their shoes, and then we can talk. I already have. It's not fun. Good luck, Godspeed, and have a good time. And remember, as mom said, wear clean underwear. You never know...

If I ever become both rich and smart, the first thing I'm going to invent is a time machine. None of this namby-pamby one-way-only stuff. I'll hop into the cool-looking cart like in the movie, fire it up, and go back a ways to late 1978, and I'll shove this little Gates kid out of the way, and start working with Paul Allen. I'll invent a company called Microsoft...

Then, I'll head forward a couple years, and offer select friends the opportunity to gain "extended weekends" by going back in time, disappearing to a tropical island for a week, and showing back up a few minutes (subjective) after departure. I'm sure there are some who would pay me for the privilege.

Today, after two different motherboards, CPUs, sets of RAM, and even OS versions, I came to the inescapable conclusion that Red Hat hates my Intel EtherExpress and Ethernet Pro cards. Couldn't get any one of them to work, even with serious assistance. Since they're ISA PnP, they're somewhat difficult to get to cooperate. So, I'm getting three PCI cards from the corporate network boneyard next week, and the cards ARE recognized by Red Hat - one of the corporate fellows checked for me. So I can plug, pray, and run.

And last night, I was overjoyed to get the laptop back onto the network. Let's see. Three computers, one network... I'm getting there, slowly but surely. Once I get the other two towers up and running, we'll have something to brag about around here. One firewall, one application server (probably Exchange for e-mail, I know, I know, but I like it, it works for me, and behind a firewall, it's secure enough for what I need it to do), one file server (big hard drive, or two, and not much else to worry about), and then we go to work on a kid computer. Priced the pieces the other day off Pricewatch - I think I had it in the $600 range for mobo/CPU (I picked a 1 Ghz PIII with the Intel all-in-one board), a Plextor CD-RW, 256 Mb Micron RAM, and a 40 Gb hard drive)... Not too shabby.

And sooner or later, I'll have enough room to get these all set up and working... I remember one of Pournelle's Laws - one user, at least one CPU. My goal is one user, at least one network... Don't know if I can make it stick, however. Oh, stop giggling.

And yes, the itching from yesterday was webbing growing. Monday, if the weather doesn't break, I'm going to Home Depot to pick up the lumber for the Ark. At this point, I'm already a week behind in the construction, and frankly, I didn't get the warnings Noah (or was that NOAA?) got. I've got to get cracking; it's already rained for a week, solid, here.

All right, off with me, then. I'll take my punishment like a man. Which means alternately staring, blearily, at the television, remote in hand, then belching loudly. Sounds like a heck of a weekend, eh, Mat?

Ah, Saturday. At this point, my children are standing in the living room, my son in his plastic armor costume from Halloween (breastplate, which actually covered him to mid-thigh last Halloween, and now bares the belly button - ah, fashion, a shield, and helmet which falls off a lot), and my daughter is throwing a ball at him... Let me explain - when I was at the computer show on Wednesday, I picked up a giveaway from some company which was a rubber ball, attached to an elastic string, attached to a chunk of velcro - you use it like the old paddle and rubber ball attached by an elastic string - throw the ball, and use your hand as a paddle. In this case, the idea for them is to stand as far apart as possible and she'll throw the ball at him - he'll attempt to prevent it hitting unshielded flesh.

No, it's not torture. In this part of the country, it's actually called "goalie training".

Our big plans for the weekend consist of a picnic on Monday. Last night, SWMBO decided that the boxes and stacks of books we have around (I've moved old friends, and some old enemies, to make room for new ones) and was left with, well, leftovers. First stop, Half Price Books. One grocery bag and two paper cases of books later, we held in our sweaty hands $5.50, two paper cases and one grocery bag nearly full of books.

So we're just hanging out today and tomorrow. I'm sure we'll find some trouble to get into. With one highly active four year old, a highly active seven year old, and an overweight thirty-eight year old who needs exercise, I'm sure the Boss of this establishment will find a way, despite the rather damp nature of the area hereabouts (yes, rain last night, 30 seconds of sunlight so far this morning), and the youngest has just been sent out to communicate a request about my researching "Fort Smelling". Depends on what she's looking for...

Later: Yup. Me pooped. Started this morning with grand plans. She decided to clear out more storage space by removing old movies we didn't watch, which we did. Then, the plan was to head to the Zoo. We didn't. Due to the miserable weather, which is what you see above, etc., we decided to do what every Minnesota family with children did - we went to the Mall of America. Walked lots, shopped not at all, and pretty much wore everyone out. What fun. Pictures tomorrow, when I feel more coherent.

Oh, CRAP. It appears that the silence from the Kershner household was partially due to technical difficulties, and partially due to what I had feared... As Jim put it, another player called up to the big leagues. If you're the type to think good thoughts or commit prayers to a REAL LIVE BODY, ahem, Jim and family could sure use them.

Welcome to Gulag Dominik. This morning, I awoke about 6:15 am, and found no child in my bed. Amazing. Went back to sleep. Awoke again about 7:40 am; birds, not children, waking me up. Hmmmm... Rolled over, and amazingly went back to sleep. And then woke up about 11:20 am - Ann was up and out, the smell of caramel rolls filled the place, and I could hear, in a loud, frustrated voice, "PICK UP!"

Got out, and was treated to the tale. The kids had apparently awakened Ann around 9:30 am. She told them to clean their room. A few moments later, they said it was done. Went to watch Disney. She got up, inspected their footwork (they'd kicked a path clear between their beds and the door, hadn't bothered to even look at, much less pick up, the dirty clothes), and put them back to work after a breakfast break.

Presently, she's out shopping at Bachmans. Likely as not, she won't get anything, but the opportunity to wander, unfettered by chimps, through her favorite garden store might well return the calm we're seeking. Which means I, King Ogre, will have to persuade the children to accomplish the tasks at hand. God willing and the Crick don't rise...

Yesterday, at the Maul Of America...

Armed to the teeth. Right.

Sure. Blame me. I'm not in the picture.

We're calling this one "find the human".

We'd use the same title - but I'm not entirely sure
there is a human in this picture.

Ah, yes. Would you buy a used car from this man?

Today, on a walk around the block...

Look! Blue Stuff! Above!

And you think "Monkey Boy" is a nickname.

See above.

A beautiful day, for a change. Guess we can
start disassembling the ark.

I gotta go geek the wife's pages. Wherein, I am sure, I am again abused. So it goes. I'd quit, but she doesn't pay me... Back tomorrow, with more fun with free-time...

The weekly Diary of a PC Geek

I have a confession to make...

Well, tomorrow is "the day"...

Don't Panic...

Bum ba-dee-dah, bum ba-dee-dah...