DOAB Week of May 13, 2002

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.

Advice...
When I was telling Noah what to put on the ark (what? You weren't there, I would have noticed. Well, HE was, but he was on vacation, after advising at creation. Tough work, but it's fun if you can get it...), I could have sworn "Not the Damndelions." (yes, there was a problem with the name originally. What, you're surprised? I'm not. Bad translations have a way of fouling things up).

What, you don't think they're a sentient species? Sorry. Wrong. Go to the back of the line. These things migrate, they outwit even the fastest mower blades, and they're bound and determined to beat me down. I swear.

I was once affiliated with a political party which used, as it's caucus location, a damndelion patch somewheres in Iowa. In fact, I think I still have, somewhere, the Tee shirt I wore the morning after the 1988 Presidential election - "Don't Blame me, I voted for Bill and Opus." And I did, too, damnit. Or maybe it was Bush/Quayle. Dukakis/Bentsen? Who knew? One was effectively catatonic, the other had a big nose, ran off at the mouth, and was frequently annoying (though he did get sick on seafood, come to think of it)... And that went both ways... Anyway, back to damndelions...

Last week I'd slaughtered a few hundred in my front lawn. Patted myself on the back for a job well done, I thought. Through the weekend, the rain kept most of them down. Today, by some freakish accident of fate, someone forgot today's cloud order in their other trousers or something, and we were treated to sunny skies. Go figure.

Sun, apparently, is the one thing these demon damndelions cannot resist. But I am stronger. I am smarter. I don't have roots... And I have chemicals on my side. And if all else fails, I'll find everyone I know who has a dog and invite them over to pee on my lawn. A little urine burn should kill those suckers (and everything else) off, and I can start fresh.

Failing that, I'm calling Noah again, and we'll put another one of those big boats together... The rest of you can just go watch Waterworld...

(ed - We're attributing the above to too much time stomping damndelions - er, DANDELIONS - whilst mowing tonight. He'll be better tomorrow, or we'll shoot him in the butt with a tranq dart, all the while thanking the powers that be for Marlin Perkins and Mutual Of Omaha's Wild Kingdom..).

What A World...
I'm driving to work this morning, like usual. Except it's raining. Which, truth be told, is usual this month, but the lighting wasn't. A large bank of thunderheads to the west made it look much more like late afternoon than early morning.

And while I'm driving, in the rain, I listen to the radio. Israel's Likud party decides they don't want a Palestinian homeland, which a few commentators rush in to assure us doesn't mean the end of the hopes for a Palestinian state, just that a bunch of people want to say no to Arafat. Well, that's fine, but I don't see Arafat blowing his ass up to make the point. I do see kids blowing themselves up to act grown up, and grown ups blowing themselves up to destroy their cause.

I'm coming to the realization that there's a fundamental gap in the valuation of life between the Muslim and western world. While we might espouse that we're willing to die for our religious beliefs, we don't actively seek opportunities to do so. Of course, here in Minnesota, I'm not living under Canadian occupation or anything, so it's a bit different in that regard. They're trying to fight for a homeland, and they're trying like mad to stick to their religion. The problem is that the tenets of Islam are being so twisted and tortured that it makes little difference what these lunatics are blowing themselves up for - "oh, it's another suicide bomber."

Sure, there's horror. Dead people, broken families, communities, loss of a sense of safety, security, and all the rest. But, just in case one of those contemplating bombing shows up here looking for wisdom, here's a thought.

If you blow yourself up, you've succeeded in silencing yourself. That's a given. There were more than a few cases of bombers who blew themselves up and caused serious injury, but no deaths. But you're dead, so that's one dead. But in the bigger scheme, let's face it - you aren't making anyone happy, and you're scaring the paying customers.

If you REALLY want to create a Palestinian homeland, here's the way to do it. Take a half a hundred (or more) young men who say they wish to die for their faith, and teach them computer programming, security, or some other computer-related skill.

Then, form a "provisional government" - yah, I know, you've got no country. Hasn't stopped most of the other "provisional governments" and "governments-in-exile", now, has it? Form a government. And before you appoint a security minister or defense minister or minister of the faith or anything else, appoint a minister of trade and commerce, and appoint a minister of finance and taxation. Tell your minister of taxation to put together a budget for the rest of the government that assumes half of the tax revenues the Israelis are getting, or less. Tell the minister of trade and commerce that you don't care what he does, the idea is to get full employment - you want 10% over-employment, if that.

Then, appoint a defense minister and an internal security administrator. Have your security administrator look for those fanatical young men, and put them to work with programming. Have your defense minister (probably your brother; you'll need someone you can trust, and a little nepotism never hurt at all - look at our most recent presidential election) sit on the weapons, and take lots of meetings with other arab defense ministers.

If you've done it right, companies will fall all over themselves, looking to invest in your country. They'll try to set themselves up to produce goods which they can sell to your now-rich populace.

The best way the Palestinians could "defeat" the Israelis is economically. Then they could start talking religious differences. But they won't.

Anyway, I wonder what Satchmo would sing if he were alive today. Sure, parts of the world are wonderful. But some of it's downright scary.

A couple of California boys stealing tractors, joyriding, and crushing cars. What's next? Living in sin? Not just beef in your hot dogs? Oy. Too much tofu for those kids, or something...

Playin' Chicken and Electioneerin'
The good old boys and girls of the Minnesota Legislature are slowly but surely pulling tight their own nooses.

It's like this many years. The constitution of the State of Minnesota states that the legislature must adjourn for the year by May 20th, midnight. Most of the time they push and poke and prod legislation along until, with some reluctance, it gets handed off to the governor, who kills or passes it as law, to his sometimes whimsical pleasure.

This year's a little different. For, you see, this year the legislature can't go home and pat themselves on the back for a job well done. They managed, in just one session, to wipe out four years of budget surpluses, a two billion dollar rainy-day fund, and still have $437 million left to straighten out.

If they don't, then Governor Ventura's ideas of work will step in - State employees to work two days without pay next month, severe cost cutting (with those knuckleheads in the legislature doing the easy work, like passing bills which say "don't cut this, don't cut that" the only thing that's left to cut is the office supply and electrical budgets on some of these places.

Back in 1998, I believe it was, the state ballot held a question of whether or not to abolish the state's treasury department. Now, remember, we've got a finance department which collects the money, an auditor's department which review how the money's being spent, and then there's the governor's office, which has set the budget for most departments (then watched it being "finagled" by the legislature), so who needs a state treasurer? We voted the job out.

So the legislature says "no, we need one" and makes it an appointed position instead. Great. Just great.

Of course, the knuckleheads are heading into a battle about reserve funds. One side wants to use money that had been set aside for transportation projects, and instead borrow the money to build roads. The other side wants to use the tobacco endowment money - a one-time settlement with the tobacco companies.

And there's word that next year's budget will AGAIN fall short. And with no budget reserves to speak of, and no one-time money to lay hands on, woe be unto the poor suckers who return to the legislature next year.

Of course, it could all be a lot quicker than that. The governor has the power to call the legislature back into session if he would like to do so, but there's the "what the heck would they do" question hanging over all of them.

Whoo-whee, Equity
Ann checked, and according to our mortgage company, we've paid something like $150 to the principle of our loan. Which, when translated, this means we own something like a square 13" on a side of the house, by now. Assuming I'm talking finished square footage, here. Wow. I do own a corner of this place after all. Pretty cool...

GULP
Great. Now I've got a friend in the St. Paul Police department who is watching out for me. Uh, maybe I should rephrase that. He's a police officer, but he's also a friend of mine. It's just damned disconcerting to listen to my wife discuss with him my middle name, address, all the rest. Lovely.

The good news is that orientation went well. Jack was right there in the thick of things and didn't really want to leave. The bad news is that the computer teacher passed away last night (she'd been sick for some time with Cancer), and so the loss was tough for the kids. We had to do some long-way-round trips to get where we needed to as parents; the kids had a prayer service. There were a lot of them crying when they left.

Good thing we decided to have lunch with Rhiannon today. Kids are so resilient, they were running and screaming after lunch like any normal day. I sometimes wish I could bounce back as quickly as they can.

Feedback
Mr. Thompson suggests that I think of them damnedelions as wildflowers. I prefer to think of them as space aliens from the planet Zurck, myself, and I'm going to banish them.

I say dandelion!! Give up John, these things do not go away...keep them and learn the benefits of these lovely little yellow dandies! Most don't know that the whole plant is edible -- the flowers used to make wine, the leaves boiled like spinach or added to salads, and the roots used as a vegetable and as a coffee substitute. The herb is a source of potassium and phosphorus and iron. The leaves are a richer source of vitamin A than carrots and contain some amounts of vitamins B, C and D.

They are also a little herbal wonder! The dandelion root may be used in inflammation and congestion of liver and gall-bladder. It is specific in cases of congestive jaundice. As part of a wider treatment for muscular rheumatism it can be most effective. This herb is a most valuable general tonic. The root is used for chronic jaundice(circulation)auto-intoxication, rheumatism, blood disorders, chronic skin eruptions, chronic gastritis, aphthous ulcers. Not enough? Well... , constipation, high blood pressure, inflammation, kidney and liver problems, overweight, poor digestion, spasms

Oh, ye of little faith. If I have to nuke my yard, pave the crater over and paint the concrete green, they'll go. One way or the other. Remember, the gopher beat Carl in Caddyshack - I'll defeat the weeds. If it kills me, and the rest of the neighborhood, I'll get 'em. So be it.

Did you know that they aren't even native to this country? Some lunkhead with a hankering for the damned things had them BROUGHT from Holland or someplace. The local Damnedelion expert (Ann) told me this this morning. How quaint.

I'm sure damnedelions are good for some people. For me, they have only one health-related function. THEY RAISE MY BLOOD PRESSURE. My doctor tells me this is a bad thing. A good thing is for me to get rid of said things which raise my blood pressure. My doctor said so. So what if I'm out there spraying Agent Orange, DDT, or, God Forbid, the dread phosphorous which is now illegal in the Twin Cities Metro (but you can still buy down the road a ways and bring it in). This must be done. If I'm caused to grow a third eye, fifth major limb, or any other harmful (yet in a sick way exciting) side effect, that's a small price to pay for the alternative. A green lawn.

In twenty years, when I'm on the arthritis-reducing, thyroid-saving, no-fat, no-salt, no-caffeine, no-chocolate-no-fun-no-sex-no-excitement-no-sudden-moves restriction plan, THEN my yard can be filled with Damnedelions. I'll probably be too blind to see it.

Though, I swear, if one grows on my grave, I'll reach up through the coffin lid and pluck it out. I will, I promise.

Besides. Ann can have them in the back. One of them pokes their little yellow head around past the fence, however, and chop-poof goodbye.

Though, he said thoughtfully, if I could somehow convince foolish people with lots of money that smoked "damned-weed" was an illegal and cool "high" I could make a fortune... Nah. I'm too much a Boy Scout.

Surely this either means that the police are dumber than we all thought or you're cleverer than anyone could have conceived. Hmm. Now there's pause for thought.

Color me ... speechless. Yes, rare, I know, but speechless. And a bit worried...

Dan Seto has a very well-reasoned piece up today regarding the recent supreme court decision partly upholding and partly revoking the basic freedom of speech right in the Constitution.

I'm all for freedom of speech. I'm also for responsible speech. If you yell fire in a crowded theater, and there isn't one, you'd best be prepared to stand for murder charges (premeditation being assumed, of course). But the application of community standards is a slippery slope, at best.

I think those seven old men and two old women would be well-served to read that piece of paper called "The Constitution" again.

The replacement mailbox became imperative today - seems we've been losing bills and other mail. I'm not surprised. Then again, I've had the damned thing built and in my garage, waiting for Tony to get the cement for the last ... I dunno, month, or more? Oh well. I got paid, at least.

Of course, Tony paid me. In beer. I got a case of Bud. I now have nearly a year's worth of beer in my fridge (unless that Beland guy can drink like a fish, that is). Can't complain, I suppose.

Well, Duh - SQL Server Tips
Should any of you be so unfortunate so as to be responsible for a Microsoft SQL Server Installation and not know what you're doing, a couple of quick security tips -

First, make sure you've changed the default sa (system administrator) account password to something else. A little-known (well, little in the sense that my mother doesn't know, otherwise most of the skirpt kiddez and h4x0rz and the rest know it) fact is that the default for the sa account is allowed to be BLANK.

Trust me - if you change that password and nothing works at all, that's better than the alternative. There's a little trick running around some of the security mailing lists - apparently a kid's got a batch file which can pretty much toast your SQL server. Deletes files, all sorts of good stuff.

And, for good measure, double-check to be sure - if you've got a SQL server and you're using port 1433 on your firewall, be very, very careful. Consider getting a VPN or paying for your remote users to use dedicated IPs or something along those lines - otherwise you're allowing traffic in a rather large hole - between a blank sa password and an open 1433 port, you've given the keys to the kingdom to any knucklehead who knows a little SQL and can screw things up seriously.

Off Like A Wing Nut...
Wandering the wilderness. Got the "Fluidmaster" "Whole Enchilada" toilet repair kit. If I've got to do this, I might as well do it all. What fun. I hope it's nice tomorrow, or I'll have to fix the toilet. Ugh.

Ahhh...
What had been looking like a major undertaking this coming weekend became a rather unexpected breath of fresh air last night - no visitors this weekend.

Sure, we're a bit bummed, but the other side of the coin is "ahhh. I can relax a little."

Or not. Got an e-mail from some friends, after they read my note above about my annual supply of Bud. "Be right over." Right.

One thing - a year-long supply for me might not even make it the weekend for someone like Tony. I prefer my beer in bottles, not cans. Besides, Bud has a decidedly unhealthy affect on my person. To be blunt, I'm liable to clear the neighborhood, let alone half of Savage, if I drink more than two of those things.

From: "ann dominik"
To: John Dominik
Sent: Wednesday, May 15, 2002 8:23 AM
Subject: Toilets and lawns

1. "What fun. I hope it's nice tomorrow, or I'll have to fix the toilet. Ugh" - You have to fix it anyway, rain or shine.

2. The dandelions will win. They have longer roots than you. And are far more reproductively agile than you as well.

What goes "stomp-flap-BOOM, stomp-flap-stomp-flap-BOOM"? Me, in clown shoes, walking through a mine field. Or, a normal day in my life...

From: "ann dominik"
To: John Dominik
Sent: Wednesday, May 15, 2002 11:27 AM
Subject: Deadly questions

From MSNBC "May 15 - Our viewer survey reveals that most women and men think their spouse is a better lover than a money manager. This may explain why a whopping 67 percent of newlyweds say money causes the most serious conflicts in the first year of marriage. "Today" financial editor and Money magazine editor-at-large Jean Chatzky has advice for couples merging their finances."

So, am I a lousy lover or a lousy money manager?

After eleven and a half years of marriage, I've learned a few things. One of them is when to shut up. Like now.

Wily Cats
This morning was the scheduled "get the cat's teeth fixed" trip. Which was becoming something of a crunch issue. With Jack's toe, we had some worries about just what the heck he'd done. Combine that with two cats, neither of which wished to be found, and you have on your plate a perfect recipe for disaster. And then some.

So the cat appointment's been postponed. Of course, if I'd looked out on the deck this morning, I'd probably have seen Tish, who spent the evening outside, on the deck. Apparently. He came in like a shot and headed for the food and water as soon as we let him in the door. So that was fun...

Measurements
I measured and "staked" the front yard last night. I had been looking at it, figuring I had this largish chunk of front yard directly in front of the house, then off to the side, I had a smaller section with a blooming apple tree right in the middle of it all.

From driveway to roughly the property line, the area in front of the house is 42' x 42' - roughly. I say that because although the driveway runs straight up to the house, there's a

One other factor in the "roughly" calculation was that Jack was helping me. I'm no surveyor, but we staked the yard out - 21 foot squares in front of the house - haven't marked off the side yard yet.

Why all of this marking, etc? Well, I'm hoping to eventually treat the lawn with weed-n-feed-type stuff. I'm supposed to treat area X in time Y with amount Z. I believe the time is 12 minutes, the area is 1000 feet, and the packets are pre-measured. THEREFORE, I need to split the front yard into 1000 foot sections. What fun.

Jack's foot issues
Jack, much like a horse, came up lame last night. We took a look, and it appeared that there was about an eighth-inch round hole next to the base of his nail on the inside of the toe.

Jack's got an annoying habit of wearing his shoes on the wrong feet (even though we get him shoes with pictures on the outsides so he knows the pictures go out), but since the hole was on the inside, rather than the outside, of the toe, we knew that wasn't the case (inside = closer to other toes, outside = further from other toes).

So the doctor took a look, said "yup, infected" wrote a prescription, and was outta there. Oh well. I wish he hadn't written one for antibiotics, but then again, I guess we needed that.

Jack was wailing about his toe, his medicine, and other things. Mind you, this is the young fellow who HAD to have the brighter night light in his room. The other night I caught him, in a chair, in front of the night light, reading. Well, duh.

Jack takes significantly longer to wind down than his sister did. Jack's also a morning guy. So he's challenged on both ends of the spectrum.

Of course, all of this came on a morning where we really didn't need to slow down any more than we already had. We had to run over to the Park & Rec department to meet the lady who came in specifically for us to be able to get the key to the park shelter this morning for tonight's now-postponed picnic. The postponment is due to the death of one of the long-time teachers at the school, who had three kids there. Aside from the students losing a well-loved teacher, they also have a friend who has, quite publicly, lost their mother to a long-running bout with cancer.

Rather than celebrate the end of brownies tonight, I think we'll try to hit the visitation, maybe. Neither Jack nor Rhiannon's had much close-up experience with death, in the individual sense. Thanks to bin Laden, the Palestinians, and the Israelis, we all got a chance to experience death wholesale; this is different.

By the time I was Rhiannon's age, we'd buried my grandmother, a woman whom I'd seen nearly every single day, and my grandfather's funeral was just a few months ahead. At the time, it didn't really sink in that Grandma was in the box and not going to get up. When we drove into St. Cloud (a rarity for me in those days) and then watched them stick the box with Grandma in the ground, THAT was a big thing - that, I didn't like. But it drove home, to me, that she was well and truly gone from this part of my life. Forever? I dunno. Depends on if I straighten up and fly right in the near future (doubtful, look at the pilot - ed).

The teacher was one Rhiannon's had for three years now in one subject, so she did know her. I don't think it will hurt Rhiannon at this age to see that teacher in a coffin. I think it might get something through to Jack, as well. He's quite into the violent "kill" games. Might help him to learn that killing isn't something that you see on TV and afterwards they all get up and walk away.

And, as per usual, I'll have the sniffles, wet eyes, and the rest. No, too much to be attributed to allergies, which I've not yet experienced. And no, not for myself. I didn't know this woman all that well. We'd talked, some, and I offered to come over and help out a couple of times, but that was about it. She might have been able to say "oh, he looks familiar".

No, my sorrow is for the two boys in fifth and eighth grades, and the little girl in third. A child a year older than my own daughter lost her mother the other day. A child, and two young men, who should have had mom on hand to plan those graduation parties, help pick tuxes for Prom, consult on a bridesmaid's dress or headpiece for her wedding, or watch the grandchildren play in her garden. A husband who has just lost his wife, and is now faced with being both a mother AND a father to three children who really, really need him.

And a community of 800 other children - PEOPLE - who knew this person by name, saw her every day, worked with her every week, and loved her for the fun they had. And they all took time this week to make several thousand paper butterflies to decorate the school to say "goodbye".

And my daughter. The teacher that passed away was one of her favorites. Taught computers. Go figure.

And it all serves to remind me. Instead of complaining when I spend time WITH my children, I should be complaining about time spent AWAY FROM my children. Time management, indeed.

Odd 'DOH!' Moment
The other day I was talking to a friend of mine. I've known him for 30 years. We met in second grade. And he's just had a rather painful year - Cinco de Mayo (or the fifth of May) marked a year to the day his wife of 15 years told him she wanted out. Not exactly a party day for him, or most of the rest of us, even though all the paperwork is signed, all the legal issues are resolved, and all of the custody issues are, for the moment, put to rest.

He got a call the other day from a former teacher of ours in high school. I never had her directly, but I spent a lot of time near her classrooms and helped out a lot (I was an audio/visual geek, heavy on the audio, and she was the choir teacher. 'Nuff said). She had heard that he was having a rough time of it.

He relayed the story to her. "Yup. Wife left. Wanted a girlfriend. No, SHE did." He relayed the spluttering and confusion that the final sentence caused at the other end of the phone.

We laughed. It's taken a year, but we can laugh now, where last year we were in tears. Some people never reach this point. I'm so thankful he did.

Whatever part I played in it was small, in comparison. He got OK with it himself. But I'm glad I was there to see it. And, despite what my wife might tell you, I was right. I get those occasionally. He's gonna be just fine.

Hmmmmm
I wonder what would happen if Bill Gates took to the TV tomorrow on MSNBC and said "you know what? We're just not going to keep doing this software stuff. Two years, and we're done."

Would everyone start begging him to keep going? Or would they all go hire Linux admins? hmmm..

Gotta Run
Picked up a freebie project which is going to require research and dealing with salesmen, which is something that typically sucks the wind right out of me. So I'll leave you with a few brief thoughts...

This scares hell out of me. Cyanide crystals, a water plant, and a lunatic - not nearly as poetic as a loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou...

And in the "Well, DUH" category. There are certain things one must accept when going to a private school. We do, we did, and we tolerate them. "Stripping to pay the bills" is one of those things that works in the movies. Not in Catholic Schools.

And finally, 'get me my banjo, honey, the hicks has learned to read, sorta'. This story (which won't be there any more if you're reading this some three weeks after today) has Mississippi Representative Ronnie Shows (ah, the jokes the kid had to deal with... "shows WHAT?") apparently has become upset that not one single gay person can marry any other gay person in the United States and make the union legal, so he's gone and proposed a Constitutional Amendment which makes sure they never will.

Makes sense to me. 50 states, none of them having laws legalizing it, so why the hell not put up a constitutional amendment stating that it's not allowed, either? Good grief. I suppose I've got to take some of the blame. It's probably going to be proven, in a few months, that oak leaves give off horrible chemicals which react with stupid people's brains to cause them to act REALLY stupid. Well, that's my fault - assuming he got his drinking water from the Mississippi, and assuming I shoveled those leaves (one year only, ma) down the hill that one time into the Mississippi which caused the chemicals to be created... Hey, it could happen.

You know, I'm beginning to think that Moby has the right idea. I'm going to form a religion (for tax purposes) and select a patron saint of moderation. Then we'll declare jihad on intolerance, and go get a cup of coffee, or something. Because if we're opposed to extremism, it wouldn't look good to do something extremely foolish like beat people up or anything...

I've got friends who've become more intolerant the older they get (they were the liberal ones when I was a kid), while I've become more tolerant as I age. Maybe it's the parental thing - there are soooo many threats in the world, and so many truly evil people and activities going on that I find it just plain old stupid that someone can say "you know, I don't care how happy you two are together, and I don't care that you're raising a family together, and I don't care that you're solid citizens who pay taxes, vote, and all the rest. It's that stuff you do in the bedroom which turns you into the scum of the earth, and Mr. and Mrs. Crack-ho, here, well, they're just fine in my book compared to you evildoers."

I suppose the problem is small minds. Small minds remain closed to new ideas - they were filled up when young. Open minds tend to be a bit more ... shall we say useful? Granted, I'm not the most open-minded of folk, but still, compared to some people of my acquaintance, I'm a freaking flaming liberal. So be it. I'll stake out where I stand, and where I'm comfortable. I'll listen to reason, but I won't be swayed by anger or violence or rhetoric towards your cause. In fact, you might cause me to step back from it if you're going to act like an idiot.

"What did he know, and when did he know it?
Well, there's an ugly flashback.

Now. Let's see. Bush is warned, August 6, about the potential for hijackings and other problems the bin Laden group may be able to cause.

Rather than do something about this, ole jughead does nothing. Which explains his sickening composure in front of those school children when the planes started hitting the towers, the pentagon, etc.

And then this morning Cheney and other prominent Republicans are saying not to read too much into it, not to put too much political emphasis on it. Well, Sorry, DICK, but what the hell else am I supposed to think? That Bush sat on his fat ass, allowing the FAA to think life was all hunky and dorey, and after the fact, rode up the wave of personal popularity he accrued, hoping that it would further his legislative agenda, help with the election cycle coming up, and do what his daddy couldn't - specifically, ride the wave of popularity into a second (this time legitimate) term?

Certainly, there's going to be politics involved. Hell, yes, it's an election year. Those are, frankly, three of every four in this country (and with school board elections AND school bonding issuses, don't count on getting that fourth year off any more, either).

But let's back up a second. Dub took an oath to preserve, protect, and defend the constitution of the United States. Fine. By that standard, I fully expect the spinmeisters to spin the spin to say "well, the constitution IS safe, was NEVER in danger."

Hell, no. Until Ashcroft (why do I try to type ass-craft when I type his name? I'm thinking subliminal...) started kicking holes in it, it was safe.

Maybe I'm blowing this whole thing out of proportion. We've got a well-known booger-brained idiot in the White House who blew off a couple of warnings about hijacking, instead of passing the information on, and as a result, we've lost over 3000 people, two rather expensive pieces of real estate, our peace of mind, and a fair chunk of our liberties.

On-line advertising dipped starting in late 1999. It plumetted in 2000/2001. So did the stock market.

Loooooooong Day
You know the type. Chugging along, making good progress, getting things done, then you hit a snag.

The snag becomes a roadblock, which becomes a complete full stop, in short order. You call for help, you confuse most of the people helping, then there's this one quiet voice (at least you hope it's quiet).

Oh. Shit. A whole week shot, because you mis-understood what they meant. A lot of "progress" down the tubes. And, as it's late on a Friday afternoon, you've got no way to recover or get wind back into your sails.

Then I come home and the broadband's down - it must have gone down earlier today, between 4 and 8:45 pm, because it was down when I got down here. Oh well.

Bloody Hell
Doctors make the worst patients, mechanics have the worst cars, shoemakers kids are usually shoeless, and computer people? Well, brainless comes to mind when describing this particular local computer geek.

I swear to you that I tried absolutely everything yesterday. I came home, broadband was down, TV was fine. I assumed it was something in the neighborhood, did a couple of tasks off the "do it or die" list (not to be confused with the "honey-do" list, as that one is merely polite requests. Do it Or Die tasks are things that are liable to cause your significant other to contemplate them to the length that they will be unable to sleep, or, which is so very much worse, they will discover said undone tasks while stumbling blindly in the middle of the night and extract punishment - you know the old "pound of flesh" comment? Well, my wife looks for twenty-five pound lots, and while I've got a great deal to spare in the weight department, she's rather insistent that a few of the choicer organs (heart, brain, etc) be included, which would definitely reduce the over-all quality of life for yours truly), and plopped down behind the computer.

Modem blinking in an odd pattern. Activity light blinking regularly every second or so, nothing else happening. Check e-mail - can't find the hotmail or local servers. OK, we'll reboot. No joy. Reboot the modem, the computer, attempt to ping. No joy. Reboot the modem again, try again. No joy. Unplug everything, plug it all back in (modem out first, last in). Still no joy.

Assume they're having network problems. Much as I enjoy cranking through network issues at 11:30 pm on a Friday night, last night wasn't one I wanted to spend time on. So I bagged it and went to bed.

Got up early enough today to try it before Tee Ball. No joy, STILL. Argh. Set up the "bother.bat" file. Pings about ten servers out there (CNN.com, wcco.com, this site host, etc). Then loops back to the top. It's a bother (thus the name).

Let that run while at Tee Ball. Came home (after stopping to pick up a potato fork from some friends on a temp loan, sign Rhiannon up for Basketball (it starts in October, for crying out loud), stop at a THIRD nursery (where the seal finally broke and Ann picked up a few plants, and two bags of cow (and other) manure - I kid you not. 40 pounds costs $2.50 at Terra in Lakeville. I never thought I'd see the day where I'd pay money for real, honest-to-God-verifiable bullshit, but there you go, and then of course to the store with the other cow products - Meat), and tried again (after doing what I've been told expressly not to do - mixed liquid weed-killer into a solid feeder, and then used it to treat the damnedelions).

Still no joy. Call and kvetch to the customer service folk, who tell me to call (all toll free, mind you) the fine folks at the high-speed internet support center - where I get a kid (I'm telling you his voice hasn't changed yet) who was so excited about the stuff he was just reading about at GRC.Com (oy, vey).

His first suggestion? Unplug the modem, reboot the computer, plug in the modem, reboot the computer, and try it again.

Here's the deal. I've got a "Garden Feeder" sprayer from Miracle Grow - it fits on the hose. I've got Lawn Food from Miracle grow that works in the garden feeder sprayer.

Doh. I know, mixing manufacturer's products. I'm liable to cause the end of the world, as we know it, and perhaps even have every child in the neighborhood grow a third eye.

Anyway, after stressing over this and being completely frustrated about Damnedelions, I gave up. I set aside the directions for the Miracle Grow Sprayer. I set aside the directions for the Weed Be Gone. And I got to work.

I emptied the garden feeder stuff into a container, labeled it, and set it aside. I splashed a generous amount (perhaps 5 ounces) of Weed Be Gone into the bottle. Attached the top. Attached the hose. Turned on the water. Went to town with the sprayer.

I sprayed for about 15 minutes. I covered something like 1800 square feet in that time. I then set down and completely rinsed out both the sprayer and the container.

This was about 2 pm or so. By 7, the damnedelions looked decidedly sick. So I barbecued. We'll see what tomorrow brings. If it works, the side and back yards get the same sloppy treatment, then I'll re-treat (after chopping in some holes and adding grass seed) with lawn food. I figure more grass will kill off the damnedelions...

Hmmm...
You know, I got more mail from Friday's post than anything I've written in a long time. So, to help out the six of you who took issue with me (okay, five, my mother doesn't count), I'll agree. We shouldn't jump on Dub, because Lord knows we learned how to conduct investigations during the Clinton years, and we've managed to figure out how to appoint special prosecutors, keep them waiting in the wings, and have them spend something like $1000 for every $1 in suspected wrong-doing they find. Since this isn't something to do with money or fiscal wrongdoing, or oral sex, I'm sure the investigation shouldn't cost more than $25-30 million.

Don't get me wrong. Clinton has the morals of a goat, and the apparent libido to match, and the ethical and judgment skills so far still lacking in my son - but that's OK, Jack's only five. Clinton's a pig, no doubt about it.

Comparatively, though, I'm a whole lot less confident in this fellow's ability to determine what I do and do not need to know. I'm sure the there are plenty of things the President knows that we don't need to know. I'm also sure that there are threats out there that are terrifying.

I'm sure that this will get glossed over, put out of the headlines in a few weeks, and we'll be back to the usual run of Enron, Middle East Turmoil, and the military activity in a far-off land.

Busy Weekend...
Been a while since I've done this, so here you go. Pictures...

And there are some who look at this picture and wonder "does he live like that all the time?"

Nope. Sometimes he calls this "playing".

We, his parents, wish we could climb in there instead and get shipped somewhere quiet and peaceful for a vacation...

Yes, this is our crab-apple tree. Pretty when it's in bloom, no?

Unlike the damnedelions below it. And that's a sparse concentration, in my yard. I wouldn't mind the occasional damnedelion. When most of the yard's yellow, though, that's just not a good thing. At all.

And yes, the sky really is that blue.

Well, maybe a closeup would help.

Herding cats? No. This is most of the Tee Ball Team. The poor fellow over there on one knee is the coach. I think he spends a lot of time like that...

And this is the "occasional" cloud. This is probably part of the weekend that started sunburning my forehead.

Ack! A giant! But she's cute, isn't she?

And this little project sucked up much of Saturday and Sunday. Bottom shelves 18" apart, top shelves 10 1/2" (roughly) apart. A place for children to store their toys. Ugh.

I'd like to apply for another weekend, please. This one longer and more relaxing, please.

Copyright © 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003 John P. Dominik. All rights reserved. No reproduction without express written permission. Opinions expressed herein are my own, and my fault. For further information, check out my other home page.


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