The Continuing Saga of Tuna in the Home

Tuna has taken on important aspects in the leftystrat household; affecting both the bipeds and the quadrupeds.

One of the tasty ways to cut down on red meat is with fish.  We're all getting into tuna in both forms: canned and filets.  Filets are great because you can spice the hell out of them and cook them in a non-stick pan with no added fat.  And yes, it tastes great.

The serious furor in the household, however, surrounds tuna of the canned variety.  This is used for all sorts of things, like tuna salad (no, really?).  Another main use is to put it on salad to make it more interesting.  And let's face it - there's little one can do to make salad less interesting.

And when I say salad, I mean salad as [insert deity] intended it: mainly iceburg lettuce that comes from a bag.   By all means, add in some high-calorie, high-fat dressing while you're at it.  My wife prefers this horrible-tasting, very pretty salad (arrest that woman for attempted salad!), which I refer to as looking like someone mugged a flower garden.

So thus far we have learned that both salad and tuna come from the same place: the grocery store.

But wait - there's more!   For reasons I probably prefer not to remember, we drain the water from the tuna and put it in the cat's bowl with some dry food.  He eats it in less time than it took to pour into the bowl.

The dog, however, is loath to miss out on anything his sibling gets.  He still wishes he was an only child.  As soon as he discovered tuna water, he went insane.  Yes, some would say the disorder preceeded the water but let's not quibble, ok?  Marshall's favorite thing in the world is cat food.  In fact, he was given an American Indian name when he was little (Smells Like Cat Food).  The theory here is that tuna smells like cat food, so that's why he's ok with it.  Now we pour it over his food too.

This is all well and good but you have no idea what it's like around the old homestead involving the simple but important device known to all as the can opener.  Animals don't do too well with the abstract so they have no idea that when they hear the can opener, it could be opening something that is not tuna.  As soon as the familiar noise starts, both of them fly into the kitchen, in record time, to stand around the magic can opener, as someone is obviously opening some tuna for them.

The cat is quietly annoying, rubbing against me, trying to trip me, and ramming his nineteen pounds repeatedly into my leg, as if I'm going to forget him or something.  The dog it attempting to sit quietly and failing miserably.  He's so excited that his little stub of a tail is vibrating and he appears to actually be sitting above the floor, having levitated himself an inch or so.  He also makes little excited noises, which is greatly preferrable to ramming his forty pounds into my leg.

At this point there is simply no way to explain to the non-human speakers that this might not be tuna.  Or cat food.  Or even that rad cranberry sauce with the lines around it.  So they get tuna water.  Sometimes I have to open two cans.  Happier pets you have never seen.

Last night it was salad, naturally with tuna.  They did their little dance, got some tuna water and remained completely attentive for about an hour after.  Perhaps they were working on perfecting Tuna Telekinesis, whereby the tuna on my salad lifted itself up and flew into their mouths.  You simply never know with non-human speakers.

Half a can of tuna remained.  Looking at it in retrospect, this was my big mistake (there's that foreshadowing thingy again!).

Tonight I decided to make use of the remaining tuna.  Naturally it was nowhere to be found.  This is because of the unique combination of my innate inability to locate anything and my wife's innate ability to never put things in the same place twice.  So I broke down and asked if she had seen the errant tuna.

I knew I wasn't going to like the answer when she told me, "You're not going to like the answer."

It turns out that even before anyone had a chance to stow the spare tuna, the somewhat furrier of the house's occupants decided they had better uses for it.  I am led to believe that it took the form of what can only be referred to as Tuna Hockey.

The cat was up on the counter, nose-deep in tuna.  When my wife yelled and reached, he passed to the floor and the dog, who quickly and efficiently nosed the tuna tin across the floor while simultaneously emptying it of what he must see as Cat Food of the Gods.  By the time my wife caught him, the can was totally devoid of tuna.  Over in the corner sat two happy pets, busily licking their lips and paws.

Ha ha.

Screw me - I had to open more tuna for my dinner.  Which pretty much set the whole game into play a second time.



NEWS FROM THE TWILIGHT ZONE

The place in which I toil tends to make bad decisions.  In fact, if they could get paid for bad decisions, they'd be the most successful non-profit in history.

One of our extremely bad decisions was around copier/printers.  The hardware to which I refer shall not be mentioned by name (but rhymes with Dannon).  Combine slimy salesmen, clueless techs, and bad hardware and there we were.

Being one of the people who had to work with both the salesmen and my own people, I was in a good position to see how the machines worked out.  And by worked out, I mean didn't work.

I made my frustrations known up the line, figuring the people who make the decisions might benefit from some input.  By that time it didn't come as a surprise when I discovered we had signed a six year contract for these bloody machines.

We suffered through the entire contract.  Email went around every day about which units not to use because they were broken.  The copier technicians must feel the same way Windows technicians feel (they always have a job).

I know I shouldn't have been surprised last week when a whole slate of new machines showed up without notice.  It definitely didn't surprise anyone when the delivery folks didn't have the printer drivers and didn't know how to operate the machinery.

And no one said a thing when it was discovered we signed a new six-year contract.

Taco Bell Abortions?

Speakers made from cow femur?

Bone-rattling sound from ... bone.  No Monster Cable here!

No More Taco Bell Until Abortion Ends

I'm pro-choice but I'm not going to Taco Bell either, in sympathy.

It seems FEMA has pulled some documents from its website, claiming secrecy.

What shouldn't the populace know about continuity of government?  Worth reading.

Obama Nominates Carlyle Group Partner to The Federal Reserve

How much do you need to hear about the Carlyle Group, Halliburton, and the Council on Foreign Relations?  These are the people who are really running things.  A president is in office for four or eight years: these people are around forever (think Kissinger).


Former Sen. Arlen Specter Does Stand-Up at Philly Comedy Club

Jokes included the 9-11 Single Plane Theory and his career.

Floor Chicken and Other Holiday Goings On

I made a chicken sandwich the other day.  I thought it somewhat odd that the chicken from which I was removing meat was upside down but things tend to happen.

Not really all that interesting, you say, and you're right.  It also has absolutely nothing to do with any holiday (especially for the chicken).

PAWT

As anyone with a cat or dog can tell you, wrapping presents is a tedious job on a good day.  If you have pets, it's all downhill from here.

First you have to find a large, flat space in which to lay out the paper and presents.  At this point, the cat needs to come over and install many tiny claw holes in the paper, apparently just for fun.   When you yell, he just kinda looks at you innocently.  It is around this point that he achieves what we like to call Feline Aviation<tm>.

I won't go into detail about how difficult it is to locate a large, flat space.  My house is in a state of Advanced Chaos, with all horizontal spaces filled and a huge waiting list for open space.  Data expands to fill available space and Stuff expands to fill available flat space.

Having removed the section of wrapping paper that the cat personalized, I realized that this particular choice of paper was fairly crappy.  Perhaps the giveaway is the way it rips when I try to unroll it.  I am no Wrapping Paper Expert, which is why I get by with Pet Assisted Wrapping Technology (PAWT).

After having wrapped a small pile of presents, the dog stops by to pay a visit.  I secretly suspect he's judging my (lack of) wrapping prowess but he's always polite.  I watch him scout the area and try to figure out exactly how he's going to help me.  This particular mode of assistance consisted of sitting directly on top of the pile of previously-wrapped presents.  I wonder if he was trying to tell me that I did well.  On the other hand, he could be letting me know that those were the last ones I was allowed to wrap without PAWT.

Several minutes of begging and prompting got him to move to a less destructive spot, but still somewhere he could monitor my progress and help if he judged it to be necessary.

Humans are at a disadvantage when wrapping via only having two appendages for the task.  You can get a box all wrapped but you still need a pair of hands to get a piece of tape.  Doing the math, this makes four necessary appendages.  This doesn't count the extra one required for the tape, which has magically wrapped itself around your thumb.  This must constitute some immutable law of Tape Physics, wherein tape always returns to its native shape (unless you successfully tape something shut, in which case it simply fails to adhere adequately and falls off, exposing the gift).

The Definition of Love

I have a houseguest.  Her brother picks up their aged mother and spends the holidays with her.  Since it was early in the morning, Mom needed help getting dressed.  Brother was not entirely ok with this act so Boyfriend had to descend the steps and help Mom into her bra, panties, and clothes.

My guest and I looked at each other and said, at the same time, THAT'S LOVE.

It All Comes Down to the Chicken?

So lefty - what's Floor Chicken?

Glad you asked.

We're tearing into presents and I hear this strange noise from the kitchen.  It wasn't loud enough to provoke an immediate reaction.  But while continuing to open gifts, it started coming up into consciousness, after which I heard a loud BANG.

I ran into the kitchen to observe my extremely gifted cocker spaniel trying to consume an entire chicken.  He quite correctly reasoned that if he could jump up and knock down the cat food tins, he could perform the same magic with chicken.  He did not wish to be separated from his chicken so a brief battle ensued.  I won (but not for long).

I put the chicken back into its container and into the trash, when suddenly it occurred to me why the chicken was upside down when I went to make myself a sandwich...

Honey... was this the only time the dog got the chicken?

No, he got it before.

Don't you think it would have been a good idea to let me know?

I did.

Ummm..... no.

But I washed it off.

The Ill Wind That Blows

I come to you today on a mission.  A matter of great import.  Something that is not regularly talked about in polite society, therefore is a staple of this blog.

Of course I'm talking about pet farts.

The problem, as I see it, is all about reaction.  Never mind the fact that we fart in the first place - it's just our reaction to it.  Men, probably from birth, are fascinated by farts, not to mention highly amused.  This leads them to pop right up and claim ownership, displaying some sort of perverse pride in the simple act of anal exhalation.

Women are not so proud.  Should some feminine puff manage to escape their dainty sphincters (of which there are over fifty in the human body), they will not so much leap up to assert that this was, in fact, theirs as attain a couple shades of red and apologize for the natural bodily function.

Natural as this is in humans, it is the same in pets.  As you might remember, I have Marshall the cocker and Ren (aka Satan), the nineteen pound tabby.  Both are rather prodigious in the amount (and quality) of gas production.  Any real man would show pride in discovering that their pets are flatulent.  Rather a chip off the old block, no?

Now here's the real issue: dogs and cats have no taboos (or at least any of which they've spoken).  They are neither proud nor embarrassed by their own methane production.  This makes it virutally impossible to figure out, in the words of Charlie Waffles [Two and a Half Men], Who Cut the Cheese?

It is medical fact that any diet change will produce changes in digestion.  Stated another way, if you change Fluffy's food, Fluffy may fart.  Or, in my house, where the dog is powerless over his addiction to cat food, Stereo Flatulence.

The trouble here is figuring out which little beastie made with the methane.  It is especially difficult when they are near each other, on the floor or on the couch.  Of course when they're both on the couch, the matter of which one produced the gas becomes secondary to potential asphyxiation.

The cat has been rather needy lately.  No one knows why.  Neither is content to let the other get any attention, producing yet more issues.  Ren just jumped onto the couch, sat on my mouse, then prodeeded to make himself comfortable on my hand, which was unfortunately attached to said mouse.  Just as he was attaining Kitty Nirvana, the smell became nauseating.

Oh great - we have to change the cat food again, this time due to Noxious Feline Flatulence<tm>.  And I thought he was simply being cute.  Obviously it's all part of his Master Plan to gas out the inhabitants of the house and attain world domination.

Of course I kid: this little bastard refuses to open his own food.  He insists on being served.  He loves his food but will not jump on the counter to eat it.  He will, however, jump on the counter to eat my food.  Mind you, Marshall has figured out how to hit the cat food can the right way so as to cause it to plummet to the floor so he can take it under the table and eat it.  He has quite a collection of empties there.  As best I understand, there is no twelve step program for cat food addiction.  And yes, it makes Marshall toot the old anal horn too.

It would all be much easier if at least one of them would toot his own horn after, well, tooting his own horn.  Can you teach an animal to be proud of his own farts?  There was a South Park episode where the denizens were fond of the smell of their own farts.  Perhaps we need to show it to the pets over and over.


Pets: be proud of your own noxious emissions.

Don't Steal - The Government Hates Competition

Top Argentine official commits suicide at summit

Hey Congress - why can't we get that kind of commitment in the US?

OK Senator Releases New Report on Wasteful Government Spending in 2011

Read this.  It will make you mad.  Then we'll discuss the black budget.

Local Cops Ready for War With Homeland Security-Funded Military Weapons

You paid for the tank that's going to run you over.


Ron Paul: Consistently Pro-life and Pro-liberty

See - he isn't perfect.


U.S. Asks Journals to Censor Articles on Bird Flu Virus

We don't want the terrorists to steal our ideas!

Tiny Little Ubuntu Improvements

I like things the way I like them.  You probably do too.
(what an incredibly silly opening line)

I don't care if the entire universe is repulsed by the way I like my things: this simply indicates that the entire universe is wrong.

Take my operating system(s).  Please.
I prefer my operating systems without noise.  And when I say without noise, I mean not one single sound should be made unless I pushed a button to initiate the sound.  I do not want to hear BOING whenever I hit enter.  I do not need my email client to BING me whenever new mail shows up.  Nor do I require notification in the form of BUNG when a program wants input.   Lastly, at no point in my life would I need a sharp BONK to signal that my operating system has booted.


Let me make an abrupt, unscheduled left and tell you about my absolute favorite Xubuntu (XFCE desktop) setting.  SPLASH SCREEN: NONE.   I think this says everything about why Xubuntu is my linux distribution of choice.  You see, I don't need a splash screen.  Or blinky graphics.  Or transparent overlays.  Or compositing (whatever the hell that is).


My local linux users group (LUG) was discussing this very topic recently.  I weighed in on how I felt that unbidden sounds were heinous, bothersome, violence-provoking and morally wrong.  For once, others agreed.  (I'm simply not used to that.)

In every group, there's one.  In my LUG, there are at least two.  The other one forwarded me a link today on this very topic, titled Ubuntu 12.04: Now with Quieter Logins.  It would seem that after much sound designing and wringing of hands, the Ubuntu login sound has been disabled.

Can I get just a faint Yay! from the crowd?

Thank you.

One of the reasons for killing the sound (killing sounds so much better than disabling, doesn't it?) is that sounds were meant to signal when the operating system was finished booting.  Since real operating systems boot up pretty quickly these days (at least linux does), there's no need for a sound.

I couldn't agree more.

And in true linux fashion, the sound can be enabled if the user can't live without it.  The article did not specify if there was a doctor's note was needed but I don't want to speculate.

Yes, it's the little things.

P.S.  Do not, and I mean never, get me started on the Unity interface.

P.P.S.  The dog is starting to display a fondness for cherry eucalyptus drops.

Why I Am Married

I do all sorts of stock marriage jokes but I want to reinforce that there are good marriages.

Why am I married?

Today I sent my wife an obscene text message, mentioning doing something within an inch of her life.

Her response?

How about within half an inch?

Important Hygiene Update

Jerry Sandusky's excuses started at Nothing, then Horsing Around, and today he explains showering with the young boys as `Lessons in Hygiene.'

Exactly what about serially sodomizing little boys comprises hygiene?


They might as well give this guy a shovel, because he's digging his own grave.

Guitar Truths

This should pass for Guitar Wisdom.  It probably won't, but it should:

• You may have 12 guitars but you have no spare strings.
• Volume is inversely proportional to talent.
• Slides and string-winders are like socks - roughly half of them disappear.
• A $20 tube will protect a $.25 fuse by blowing first.
• A chord occurs in a song.  A cord is used for strangling the singer.
• Vintage amps do not bounce when the old leather handle breaks.
• If you remembered to bring two guitars, you forgot your strap.
• If a string breaks, it will only do so on a floating trem guitar.
• Where is your backup amp?  Back up at practice.
• The odds of your guitar being in tune when you play is inversely proportional to the time you spent tuning it before the set.
• Never solder in shorts.
• Any tube snob will have pedals with transistors in them.
• Where is your whammy bar?  Anywhere but attached to your guitar.
• If you only brought one pick, you will not be able to hold onto it to save your life.
• Where are those people who really wanted to watch you play?  Everywhere but at the gig.
• Remember that hot chick from last set?  She doesn't remember you.
• You're at a new club.  It is raining so hard that cars are floating away.
• That new tune you learned?  The rest of the band didn't.
• Remember: if you turn up, so will he.
• Never (and I emphasize this) never let the drummer's girlfriend (Yoko) sing `just one song' with the band.

More Governmental Turds

Sandusky Attorney: This is a fight to the death.

Works for me.


In the Unlikely Bedfellows category, who else but Penn State wound up on the top of the Catholic Church's xmas card list?  An anonymous official stated that the church wanted to thank Penn State for taking some of the heat off them this holdiday season.


[Iran] 'The Americans have perhaps decided to give us this spy plane'...

US LOSES ANOTHER DRONE, THIS TIME IN SEYCHELLES...


President Giveaway strikes again.  They're probably running Windows.




Obama to slash National Guard force on border...


Yess, LESS border protection and more anal probes, guys!




FBI denies request for info on smartphone spyware...


Because they're using it on US.




Congress considers bill to censor Internet...


Internet considers action to censor Congress...

News You Need to Know but Probably Haven't Seen

Report: Obama, UN to tax US for Green Climate Fund

But we all know the UN has no agenda, right?  I renew my call to send the UN, building and all, to any country that wants it, freight collect.


Has the War with Iran Already Begun?

Seems to be an awful lot of activity there, including drones, for a country in which we are not involved.  But listen to those drums....




Army Posts Job for “Internment Specialist” Following KBR Call for FEMA Camp Subcontractors


Gee, who do you suppose they intend to relocate and where?



Confirmed: ATF Plotted to Use Fast And Furious To Demonize Second Amendment

Smells like setup.  Again.


Scientists develop system that can shut down cellphones in cars...

Wanna bet state governments take a keen interest....?


Average Family Lost $21K in 6 Months Due To Property Values, Stock Market...

Maybe Occupy has a point....  good thing I can't afford a retirement fund.

---------------------------

This country is being run by drunken, self-righteous thieves.  Those governed, the Great Unwashed, are largely imbeciles; content to give up most of their income and rights, so long as they can drink beer and watch X Factor.

Aren't you tired of the kleptocracy yet?

CIA Admits it Has Office at Virginia Tech

A police officer and one other person was killed today by a gunman at Virginia Tech.

A four hour lockdown produced nothing and the all-clear was sounded at 4:30pm.  The gunman was not apprehended.

Virginia Tech was enjoying a four year hiatus from shootings when this occurred around 12:15pm.

Expect the usual calls for revoking the Second Amendment.

Read it and Weep

I have long heard stories about pedophilia.

I have long preferred not to pay them much notice.  It's because this is one of the very few ways I'm pretty normal: I'd just rather not face the truth.

Within the last few years we have all started to read stories of people being arrested for child porn.  It started with small, isolated groups.  A few individuals, maybe.  An online `club'.

Then we read about pedophiles in the ranks of police.  And government.

Some of my online friends told me horrible stories about this.  Some pointed out that this went all the way to the top.

But like 9-11, to believe the emerging truth is to have to face some genuine unpleasantness and ugly facts about our fellow man.

For the longest time we have had seats to the sick opera that is the Catholic Church's abuse of children; the subsequent denial and hiding of the perpetrators.

Very recently we were treated to the Jerry Sandusky story [Local Boy Makes Bad at Penn State].  This is spawning other admissions.

Last night I came across a piece of ugliness and horror, detailing sexual abuse in Hollywood.  This breaking news is disgusting and it's true.  The very title of the article indicates this is the tip of the iceberg.

Now it's truly time to sit up and take notice.  Look at the sickness and devastation these subhumans have wrought upon children.  In the name of entertainment.

And this is indeed the tip of the iceberg.  The stories my friends told me and the stories I read about institutionalized pedophilia going all the way to the top.

Our eyes are wide open and our first step is to choose to see.

Of Colds and Classic Rock

Argh..... 

Sorry, had to be said.

I just spent a week with a particularly nasty bit of a bug.  The blasted optimists would say I should be thankful that I didn't go down for two weeks, like my wife.  This little bugger just sat there and refused to leave, kinda like Congress.

While this thing inhabited my body, I was kind of useless.  If you ask certain people, that was not much of a change.  Suffice it to say that I kinda sat there with a fever and a fuzzy brain.

After a while, the game became finding something to do whilst sitting there.  Not wanting to waste a sick day on actually being sick, I went to work for most of the week. After four days I still had a fever.  I decided that would not do.  The typical remedy was failing me (vitamin C, echinacea, zinc) so I alternated between Daytime Cold Stuff and Nighttime Cold Stuff.

Taking my temperature is something that has never gone well at my house.  This tends to be largely a problem of not being able to locate the thermometer.  Yes, living with a multiple has many joys.  And I will continue to pin this on my wife for as long as I can because it's partially my fault: if I were that interested in taking my temperature, I'd have purchased a second thermometer (or third or fourth) and hid it where I could be the one who didn't know where it was.

So I used the shortcut used by men around the globe: "I feel like a have a temperature."  This brings out the Inner Nurse (who also doesn't know where the thermometer is), who holds her arm up to my forehead and announces "You're hot."

I thank her for the compliment.

But seriously, she's my wife and has to say that stuff now and again.   After she gets done explaining that, she tells me I'm really hot.  I decline to repeat the joke, no matter how much it hurts.

So by this point I'm reasonably certain I have a fever.

The thing is.... whenever my wife feels my forehead, she tells me I have a temperature.  Sometimes I just ask her for the fun of it, even when I feel ok.  Who says science is dead?


So I took a sick day in spite of myself, hoping I could use the three day weekend to heal and be back to work.

Three days later, I was a little worried, as I still had a fever.  Fortunately it left toward the end.

Somewhere earlier I was talking about finding something to do while I was pretty much no good for anything.  When all else fails, there's the computer.  And when the laptop is on the lap, there's internet activity.

VIDEOS!

As I've mentioned, I'm a little slow on the uptake.  I don't do a ton of streaming video or audio.  Somehow I located Justin TV.  This is a site where people create channels and broadcast things that (hopefully) others will view.  There is no shortage of entertainment and content there.  The thing that really confused me was the video games.  People play video games and broadcast them for others to watch (and sometimes comment on).  Since I'm obviously not of that demographic, I have to wonder if this is really popular or goes on elsewhere.  I could find out this information with a search but I'd rather just comment on it and scratch my head.

In any case, there is a ton of content to be found at Justin.  If you can possibly tear yourself away from watching someone else play video games, you can see movies, tv shows, cartoons, ancient programming, and puppy webcams.  While I am a sucker for puppies, I haven't spent much time there.

The first thing I discovered were the `conspiracy' channels.  And my oh my are there a bunch of them.  I seriously recommend viewing some of the content, remembering to question everything and use your BS Filter at all times.  A person could really learn something there.

Then I stumbled upon some of the rock video channels.  There's one fairly constantly broadcasting channel that has a comprehensive collection of videos and concerts (you can look this up on the site's directory).  There's another guy who runs concerts on Friday nights.  He's the epitome of internet amateur broadcasting: great content, amusing comments, equipment breakdowns during the show, and you get to watch him drink soda while he comments (Yay!).  He's the genuine article.

So without further interruption (or temperature checking), I got to see a lot of video while the germs steadfastly refused to leave my system.  Here are some random thoughts....

WHITESNAKE

The Concert Dude<tm> ran a Whitesnake show from 2004 in England.  Like them or not, you have to admit that these guys are tight and put on a show.  Coverdale et al are something of a guilty pleasure (because my guitar playing friends laugh at me when I say Whitesnake) but there are some seriously good tunes there, combined with some seriously good playing.

The first highlight came when a young lady presented David Coverdale (or Coverversion, as Robert Plant refers to him) with some flowers and a note thanking him for his music and his voice.  He seemed genuinely touched but quickly recovered and thanked the lady for her f-ing t*ts, allowing as to how they were inspirational too.

I would have spit out my tea, spraying it all over my monitor, if this happened twenty years ago.  In spite of the fact I always laugh at fart jokes, it just seemed like David might have been a tiny bit long in the tooth to make these jokes.  Or perhaps he could have done it a hair more creatively.

Speaking of old fellows, one also has to give it to Mr. Coverdale for his voice.  The man can hit all of the notes, which is quite a feat for most people north of fifty.  I remember reading that he trained with a cantor after a vocal injury.  Regardless, the man sounds fantastic for any age.

The band was very well-rehearsed and tight (although way too old for Jerry Sandusky).  Tommy Aldridge played drums and has been with this incarnation of the group the longest.  He was a favorite of mine way back when he played for Pat Travers.  That was a killer rhythm section.  This man is a maniac on drums and makes the whole band sound better and tighter.   The bassist was Marco somethingorother.  They even had a keyboardist but he was way down in the mix.

Naturally the fun for me was in the guitar.  Reb Beach played largely second guitar, with his Ibanez custom Strat-style (with EMG pickups).  When he played lead, he proved himself more than capable.  He was more modern-sounding, for better or worse.  Doug Aldrich did most of the leads, using Les Pauls and Marshalls.  He used to play for Dio and had his stage act together.  This guy was something to see, with his fingers moving a mile a minute, perfectly executing the leads of the guys who recorded before him.  A lot of his trilling seemed to be executed with his first and second fingers, which is not common.  His tone was good but a little over the top with distortion for my taste.

It was funny to see most of the band shirtless.  I wonder, if I got to play all the time, would I be able to lose enough weight to look decent in only a vest.  Let's face it - I don't go shirtless because people have to eat - ya know?  Plus the hair spray would probably choke me first.

Recommended.

BLACKMORE ET AL

I got to see Ritchie Blackmore in Deep Purple and one of the Rainbow incarnations (with Dio).  Never got to see him live, so this was my first exposure.

I suspect Mr. Blackmore to have the best sense of humor in classic rock.  He never said a word but you could hear it in his playing and watch it in his antics.  At the end of both concerts, he annhilated his guitars.  Much as it hurt to see perfectly good guitars (John Hiatt) get smashed, it was also pretty amusing.  He thoroughly disembowled the Strats, yanking on the strings, breaking the headstock, using the edge of the stage to `play' the guitar, having a serious fit smashing the remains, and losing a few off the end of the stage.  He'd get another one from a roadie then proceed to atomize it, just like the previous one.  At one point he went through four guitars in minutes.  This was obviously before litigation became a hobby.

One thing I noticed in both bands was the tremendous control he had over the band. They watched him and he gave hand signals whenever he wanted something.  His equipment appeared to be stock CBS Strats into two Marshall stacks, using a reel to reel tape deck for delay and gain.

The playing was the real show, however.  From the bits I could see and hear, Ritchie seemed to almost be a bass player, as opposed to a guitarist.  He would play a single note then an octave up, just like the bass.  Not exactly a ton of power-chording.  Most interesting to observe.

Ronnie James Dio (RIP) fronted this version of Rainbow and was his usual animated (and short) self.  The man's voice defines rock vocals.  I also watched him with Heaven and Hell (pretty much Black Sabbath).  There shall never be another voice like his.

I tend to find power trios boring at times and this was the case with Heaven and Hell.  There's no denying Tony Iommi (another lefty) and his massive tone, but there's only so much one guitar can do, especially when he switches to lead.  Tony used his trademark custom-made lefty SG through Laney amps.  A good guess would be that he detunes his guitar south of normal E.


QUEEN

Speaking of power trios, I saw two Queen concerts.  One was at the Rainbow on the Sheer Heart Attack tour (Killer Queen was the big hit).  I'm at a loss for a date but I'll guess around 1972.  This was a concert filled with songs from earlier in their career. Unfortunately I'm not all that familiar with the earlier songs so it was a bit wasted on me.

Never wasted was the spectacle that is a Brian May solo.  He is a singular voice on guitar and manages to perform miracles in the power trio format.  His early work with delays was groundbreaking and still stands on its own.  There was a small mountain of his trademark Vox AC30 amps and his homemade guitar for the world to behold (along with all that talent).

The next concert was on the Night at the Opera tour (Bohemian Rhapsody was the hit).   There was a greater song selection because of two intervening albums, making for a more interesting concert (for me anyway).

Suffice it to say that you haven't lived until you have beheld Freddie Mercury in short shorts.

Well, maybe not.

In any case, Freddie (born Faroukh Bulsara) set the tone for rock frontmen.  He was bold, brash, incredibly gay, and had a voice that didn't have to be restricted to rock and roll.  [note to self: omit show tune jokes]

At the encore, they had confetti raining down on the occupants of the stadium, along with balloons tied to blow-up dolls.  Quintessential Queen.

Imagine a band with great writing, singing, playing, and a show.  You don't get that often.


ACDC

Amongst other stuff I saw a terribly early video of ACDC.  It was black and white and featured Angus before the dark schoolboy outfit.  They lacked nothing in attitude though.  It was odd to see Orange amps onstage but who's counting?

I even saw the tail end of a Blondie documentary.  To be honest I never liked the band but it was interesting to hear their story.  Can you say cocaine?  I knew you could.

---------------------------

So out of sickness came classic rock videos and concerts.  If you're a musician or rock fan, you need to check Justin out.  Even if you just like to watch videos.....


I'd stick around a bit longer but I have to wake my wife to see if my fever is still gone.

On Vonnegut

I just read a brief review of Kurt's biography, written by Charles Shields.  The selling point of the article (possibly the book) is that Kurt was not particularly nice or happy.

My bud-in-blogging, Eric (the Noctornal Slacker) recently did a book report on Kurt's Timequake.  We seem to share a love of Kurt's writing, as did many people.

Let's ruminate on this a second.......

1. Does it really matter what kind of person Kurt was?
2. After reading the review, it's pretty obvious why Kurt might have been a bit off.
3. I submit to you that being a bit off is almost a requirement in the arts.

Quite frankly I never put together much of an opinion on what kind of person Kurt was.  I was happy to enjoy his output. 

I do admit to wondering what might be wrong with Kurt, specifically concerning the time-hopping exercises in his books.  My wife and I wonder if he had multiple personality disorder; it would certainly explain the time-hopping.  She loved his writing and said it made perfect sense to her.

If nothing else, the man certainly had a right to a bit of post-traumatic stress disorder.

As for being a bit off, I spent many years in comedy and rock and roll.  My observation was that comics, as a rule, were among the more miserable human beings I had ever met.  Pain transforms into comedy; both the performer and the audience win.

As a guitar player, performing in front of people is the cheapest and most effective therapy I can imagine.  It has the added benefit of not requiring precertification, copays, or an hour in the waiting room.

And what do we have left?  The legacy of Kurt's writing.

Put That Blowdart Gun DOWN

That's what she said.

No, really, that's what she said when she walked through the door.  It was a lot more funny because she walked back with someone from a remote office.

Anywhere else it would not have made a lot of sense or not been funny at very least. But here in the Twilight Zone, where the Yellow Brick Road meets the Duck Pond, it was just another day.

We just got done getting blamed for all sorts of issues that weren't ours and were a bit edgy.  Someone had the foresight to charge up the radio-controlled helicopters so they were first in the air; the regular one followed by the dual rotor model.

After watching them crash a few times, as they tend to do, it became time to find objects that would interfere with their flight.  A long blue back-scratcher found its way into the flight path of helo one.  It was like the rocket-propelled grenade from hell.  The next flight got picked off by a clever shot of a pencil.

The guy with the blowdart gun (the longer one) was getting warmed up and ready to fire when in walked the lady....

"Put that blowdart gun DOWN!" she said, shielding the visitor from the remote office.


At this point, you're probably asking yourself where the department head is while all this tomfoolery is happening.....

He's the guy flying the first chopper.

Thanks

This would be my first Thanksgiving post here on Blogger.  So I'm sitting here, waiting for some words to start appearing and arranging themselves on the screen.  Much like asking the cat to cook dinner, I'm starting to realize that perhaps this is not going to go exactly as requested.

----------------------------

I'd like to lead with heartwarming.  A coworker spent a Thanksgiving at a hospital, where his daughter was undergoing treatment for leukemia.  Tragically, she slipped away.  They noticed that Thanksgiving was pretty bleak for those concerned so every year since, they deliver dinner to families undergoing treatment.  Others at work are getting involved.  Bravo and happy day to you all.

-----------------------------

Next up, I'd like to thank my readers here (both of you).  The tranistion from my former home to Blogger was not without complications and I'd like to thank the folks who followed me as well as the new people.  Lots of folks have been stopping by from countries where I don't speak the language.  Welcome.  Whatever happy accident brought you here is my gain.  Yours too, I hope.

Now I have to stop typing because, once again, Mr. Loud from the Loud Family (across the street) is using power tools after 10:30pm.  I am having (even more) trouble concentrating.  I think the poor guy just needs a girlfriend.  You see, he's married, yet he spends all this time working on the house.  Using power tools early in the morning and late at night is a classic spousal-avoidance move.  If not a girlfriend, maybe a booty call now and then.  The guy's wife has a bumper sticker that says `My Other Car is a Broom' and she's not kidding.

I was just about the be thankful for the apparent cessation of the power tools when another member of the Loud Family took off on his Honda Davidson V8 bike with no muffler.  The houses on both sides of the street are still shaking.

----------------------------

Today was our Thanksgiving party at work.  Everybody on the team came prepared.  I haven't seen so much homemade food at one place in years.  I noticed there was a lot of red food and a coworker clued me in that this was because we work with a lot of `eyetalians'.  Being one herself, she should probably know.  I hear we were in pretty good shape for those with OCD, because they could put all the red food on one plate and go back for other colors later.

The super-abundance of food did nothing to trump the rather large amount of alcohol amassed for the event.  Up until today I had not heard of anything called Birthday Cake Vodka.  I don't generally drink but one whiff of this stuff and I was no longer a Vodka Virgin.  What did it taste like?  Cake.  I'm not kidding.  I wonder if there's a chocolate vodka...

As great a party as it was, I was kinda disappointed that no one wore a lampshade, swung from the chandelier, or did something highly embarrassing that they would not remember until I showed them (and everyone else) the video.  In hindsight, perhaps it was a good idea to avoid Drunken Blowdarts after all.

But it's ok - we're in the early planning stages of the Xmas party.  Not sure how we're going to top this party, but we are a very strong, creative group that never fails.

----------------------------

My brother is in for the holidays.  My relatives would cackle madly if they heard me saying this (and if you repeat it, I will deny it) but it's nice to have the family together.  Having a sibling across the country makes it difficult to get together.

I noticed that every time he comes in, the weather is more gloomy than the previous time.  I'd hate for him to think it's gloomy here in PA every single day (as opposed to every other day).  We're already well past the all time record for yearly rainfall.

At work I mentioned the brother coming in and someone asked me if he was as sarcastic as me.  After thinking about it and much giggling, I realized you don't want to be a fly on the wall when the three of us get going.  Mostly you don't want to be the object of our conversation.   Poor Mom.

There will be food.   Oof, will there be food.  In a fairly new tradition, cooking is getting split up and everyone is doing what they do best.  Nobody loses.

------------------------------

Happy, healthy, and safe Thanksgiving to you and yours, from all of us here at ThermionicEmissions.

Moron of the Month Award

This is my first Moron of the Month award and I'd like to proudly present it to the city of Springfield, IL, for getting the city's water supply hacked from outside.

As usual, I have questions:

• Why is something so important as a city's water supply accessible via the internet?
• Why do people who should already know better continue to make these idiotic mistakes?
• Why did it take up to two months to investigate this as a hack?

Unimpressed by the Springfield fiasco, a hacker called "pr0f" got into the Houston, TX, water supply, drew a diagram, then cracked the three-character password used to `protect' their water supply.  He caused no damage while inside.

But do not panic, good people.  The Department of Homeland Security stepped right up to let us know that "At this time, there is no credible corroborated data that indicates a risk to critical infrastructure entities or a threat to public safety."

Feel better now?  Someone hacked into Springfield's water system and burned out a pump.  Then someone hacked into Houston's water system and drew a network diagram, complete with three-character password.  But there is no threat to public safety here, folks.  Nothing to see here - just go home.

These people must be related to the ones who watched ufo's fly over the White House in 1952 and declared that there was no threat to national security.

-----------------

Let me see if I understand this correctly:  we have lost many of our constitutional rights to Homeland Security, yet Homeland Security can't secure the knot tied in a child's shoe?  We have to take off our shoes and carry less than three ounces of liquids when we fly, yet important infrastructure is wide open on the public internet?

Are you mad yet?

P.S.  Your medical records are next.

Topic:  Homeland Security  ISN'T.  Discuss.

Work Stories: Quantum Food

One of my colleagues was out of the office for a week for training.  This caused a problem for the rest of us at lunch.  You see, Smedley (almost his real name but not quite) has the rather annoying habit of commenting on lunches that belong to other people.  We have no idea why.

"Hey lefty ... spaghetti today?"

You're mighty observant, Smedley.

Now I don't claim to understand quantum physics but I suspect we have a case here that puts it all in perspective.  Things exist as a wave and/or a particle until observed.

This means that my lunch remains a wave until Smedley comments on it, rendering it a particle.  The problem was noticed while Smedley was out of the office last week.  I posed the question to my coworkers: does my lunch exist without Smedley here to comment on it?  Then what do I eat when my lunch is a wave?

These questions are way above my level.

--------------

Apparently Asia is getting into the coffee business.  This is my guess, based upon the packet of coffee I received with an order recently:

HOGOOD COFFEE

My taste You know

My Dog is Smarter than Your Honor Student

Other folks at work brag about their kids.  I bring in pictures of Marshall the cocker.  He has his own fan club.  I can't get work to put him on my health plan, though...

Marshall is the third rescue cocker.  He's also the smartest by far.  Between three dogs and two cats, every one has managed to figure out how to open bi-fold doors.  Amusing as this may be, the bathroom has a bi-fold door.  The dog opens it to be with his mommy.  The cat seems to have something against doors being closed so he'll open it while you're in the bathroom, then walk out.

We also have louvered doors going into the kitchen.  The cats have made short work of them.   The dogs, not so much.  Marshall can open them if they're already open a bit.

Every now and then, the cat will jump on the table and knock something yummy off for the dog.  We have no explanation for that.  They can both knock each other out of their food bowls, which is odd.

Marshall, as I've mentioned, loves cat food in an unnatural way.  We feed the cat and close the door so Marshall can't get in.  As soon as the cat is done, he opens the door and Marshall rushes in to lick out the bowl.  Sometimes the cat eats dog food too (neither is good for the other, btw).  We call this Cat Food Ballet.  When he's done, Marshall makes a stop at his bowl, as if to say he was there the whole time.  It's hysterical to watch.

I came home from practice today and my wife couldn't wait to let me know what my special child did while I was gone.  When we feed the cat, we take a spoonful of food and put it in his bowl, then put the cat food can back on the counter.  The cat will spend all day bothering us to feed him but doesn't have any issues with leaping up and eating our food.

Marshall figured out there was cat food on the counter and set about getting it.  My wife heard noise in the kitchen, which is never a good thing.  Marshall was leaping up and knocking the cat food cat off the counter with a paw.

I'd say I'm proud of him but this is getting tiresome.

Marshall also has a fondness for trash, like most dogs.  His main hobby is shredding the tissues he pulls out of the trash.  Sometimes he makes tissues appear from nowhere (usually after I'm done vacuuming).  To combat this, we purchased a can that has a lid that snaps down.  Virtually dog-proof, right?

Not so much.

Marshall figured out that if he leaps up and hits the can the right way with a paw, the Magic Trash Lid opens up, allowing full access to the trash he loves so much.

If we could just get them to do some cleaning or taking out the trash, they'd be worth their weight in gold.  Tonight, tired from practice, I asked Marshall if he'd make me some dinner - nothing fancy, just something small.  He just sat there on my lap, pretending not to understand me.

It's hard to get mad at a creature with such magnificent brown eyes.  It drives my wife crazy when he sits on my lap and stares up at me.

I have to go now.  I think Marshall is on the computer in the next room.  No telling what he's up to now....

SIR Jimmy?

Coming to us from the Daily Telegraph is an article about Jimmy Page being mentioned for knighthood.

Sir James Page would join luminaries such as Sir Elton and Sir Paul.

I'm voting for this, in spite of the fact that I'm an American.  Over here, we vote wisely, vote often.

If you've read this far and still have that scrunched up quizzical face, Jimmy Page would be the guitarist/writer/producer of Led Zeppelin fame.  Prior to Zeppelin, Page was an in-demand session musician.  That's Jimmy on Tom Jones' "It's Not Unusual" and Joe Cocker's version of "With a Little Help from my Friends".

Celebrate American Censorship Day

Americancensorship.org is the go-to destination today.  Help celebrate(?) the day.

Congress is working on creating the Great Firewall of America.  Pretty soon clicking on a link will make you a criminal.



Contact your congresscritter today.

The E-Word

I didn't realize it at first but I've lived my life in a certain way.  Now that I'm more or less middle-aged, I think it's safe to come out of the closet and speak on this topic a bit.  I didn't have far to go out of said closet, as anyone who knows me will attest.

As I tell people who expect me to lift boxes, "I'm a knowledge worker.  Lift it yourself."

You see, my enemy is out there in plain sight: it's exercise.  I don't believe in it.  It's foul and evil and all the rest of that kind of stuff that brings people out into the streets to violate the rights of others.

Let's face it: if you run, you get a heart attack and die.  If you swim, you get a heart attack, drown and die.  Do you really want that for yourself?  I sure as hell don't.

It all happened at the doctor last week.  Before I had a chance to lecture him on keeping patients (specifically this one) waiting for close to an hour, he said I needed to exercise.  I told him I lift one hundred ninety pounds every morning: I get out of bed.  Not flustered at all, he said that was insufficient.

I told him I walk all day at work.   No good.

He suggested I walk the dog.  I suggested that's what fenced yards are for.

Undaunted, he told me to walk inside the fence with the dog.

You have to admire the inventiveness and sheer tenacity of the learned doctor, not to mention his willingness to screw with me.

Then he pulled out the Big Guns<tm>: if I didn't exercise, he would prescribe additional medicine.  I reminded him that the last time he tried that, I learned a new word [akathisia - technical term for ants in your pants or skin crawling], which required two additional medicines to quiet down.

I only had one card left.... the last physician who suggested I exercise had to deal with the description of what happened when I tried.  How I watched the seconds portion of the display until my time was done.  How I sweated, groaned, then took a nap afterward.  He told me that it didn't seem worth it and I should stop exercising, if it caused me that much grief.

New Doc remained unimpressed.



So now I have to farking exercise.

He said all I had to do was ten or fifteen minutes of walking daily.  It was no big deal; he does it.  I reminded him that he was not morally opposed to exercise, as was I.  He sat there and continued to stare at me as if I had sprouted a third head.

Now every molecule in my body is screaming at me (and I haven't started exercising yet).  It goes against everything for which I stand: you know; land yachts, chocolate cream pie, and the sedentary lifestyle.

Wish me luck.

lefty Weighs in on Joe Paterno

I know you're probably saying to yourself:

Hey, why in the world would leftystrat have a single thing to say about anything having to do with sports?

And a very good question, that.

I spent a very minimal amount of time getting some background on this from my esteemed coworkers; the first place I go when I need answers about sports stuff.

As best I understand it, Joe Paterno allowed this to happen on his watch by not doing to the coach what the coach was doing to the little boys.

And Joe Paterno leaps to inaction and resigns immediately (at the end of this season).

Do I have it right?

Do I really need to comment?

In the end, this adds to my assertion that Penn State and the Eagles be sent to Albania on a permanent basis.

--------------------------------

Paterno stated that he wished to leave with dignity.   My wife, a victim of childhood sexual abuse, asked what about the dignity of the poor children - they got none.

UPDATE:


Penn State has terminated Joe Paterno, as well as the president of the university.  Well done, folks.

With an Armadillo?

Protesters in Pakistan burn Hillary...

Alas, it was only in effigy....


[forwarded from work] If an older woman chasing younger men is a cougar, does that make an older man chasing young boys a nittany lion?


Woman beaten with frozen armadillo...

How to put a positive spin on this... at least it wasn't alive?

'JERSEY SHORE' finale ratings drop for first time...

Every now and then there's hope for humanity....


Christo-terrorists besiege play.


Heaven help us from people helping us into heaven.


Maryland Considering Flush Fee Hike

So close to D.C.


SHOCK CLAIM: Bieber Sued for Paternity?


Simple: either a paternity test or just grasp reality: he has no penis.


OBAMA: God Wants To See Us Put People Back To Work...


This is the second occupant of the White House in a row who God Consults.


WASHINGTON - Four years after Congress imposed restrictions on travel funded by outside groups, federal lawmakers are frequent fliers again, taking 415 privately funded trips between Jan. 1 and Sept. 30 - a nearly 75% jump in the number of trips they took during the same period in 2010, records show.


The best congress money can buy!


Insane Clown Posse 'Juggalos' classified as a gang in FBI report...


Why not just cite them for violations against taste and be done with it?


Hookers for Jesus!


In spite of my a-reglious bent, I'm in there (so to speak).

Bah Mallbug - Retail Therapy

I have established that I don't get out much.  Here is yet another amusing casualty of my in-ness.

Back before we owned a house, we used to dash here and there on the weekends, on Manic Mall Trips.  After a while we realized we were spending way too much money and had little to show for it.  This was dubbed Retail Therapy<tm>.

One definition of stupidity is doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results.  We realized that Retail Therapy was a failed therapy.  This didn't get a chance to become a problem of momentous proportions, as we purchased a house, thus taking every single cent of disposable income and sending it into some sort of black hole, never to be seen again.

So yeah, I don't get out much these days.

However, I also noticed that working a pair of jobs and never going anywhere was not exactly a recipe for a an interesting life.  So every now and then we leave the house.  Surprisingly enough, we generally wind up regretting it almost immediately, throwing us right back into Stupid.

--------------------

We decided on a mall thirty minutes away, as it had the magnet store which required visiting.  My wife is one of those people stores love; they send her something close to her weight in coupons.

We managed to park in the same county as the store, which I'm told is a good thing.  In we went, to the store I won't name but rhymes with KC Denneys.  BANG, we hit a store full of Christmas Cheer<tm>.  I like to say we celebrate Christmas, but only in the most crassly commercial sense of the holiday.   And there we were, in the most crassly commercial sense of retail.  Holiday jingles, decorations, and outfits.  Santa.  And lines almost as long as unemployment lines.

All this as I'm still finishing up my Halloween candy.  I'm told the decorations were up before Halloween this year.

I loudly observed that I was completely full of holiday cheer (or something), which pleased my wife to no end.  I further suggested that they start putting up Valentine's Day decorations, since they were already doing Christmas.  It pays to be prepared, you know.  The wife shot me one of those concrete cracking looks.

There were lines everywhere, presumably including the rest rooms.  I was informed that this was about normal for a Sunday.  I certainly don't remember the mall like this on any Sunday during which I had left the house.  I suggested turning around immediately but unfortunately there were things we had to purchase.

After six lines and two floors, we somehow managed to procure our things.  In spite of the lines, I have to give credit to the lady behind the counter, who went all out to make our coupons apply all over the place.  It seemed we wound up getting things for free.

We were, however, down one thing.  When I inquired, I was told never mind, we'd shop online.  Why, I asked, couldn't we have just shopped online, as opposed to finding ourselves in this morass of a mall?  Because you wanted to go to the mall.

You certainly can't argue with her logic.

AND THEN THE MALL

Wow.

I've heard all sorts of news about the economy, unemployment, stores closing, and malls becoming ghost towns.   Apparently the economy wasn't all that horrible, at least by the volume of people walking around.  I can't imagine them walking around because they enjoyed the place or for their general health.

So the mall appeared to be on its way to ghost town.  One anchor store had closed.  Most of the stores I remembered had gone away.  I was almost surprised to find a Starbucks.  Merchants must be worried, between the vacancies and the horrid stores that fill some of the spaces.

Even with two floors of stores, I had an incredibly difficult time finding anything of interest.  This did not seem to bother the hundreds of twelve to sixteen year old females flooding the aisles.

Good God, where will they go when the malls close?  There will be an epidemic of displaced young women, presumably with disposable income.  Perhaps we need to forestall this eventuality and open Bieber stores near all malls.

We were stunned.  That's about the only term I can pull up.  We reached immediate consensus that we were never coming back again.


Not even a trip to the adult store would console me - it was that bad.

Bizarro MP3 Player Behavior

I have been using a personal computer pretty much since there were personal computers, possibly before.

Shortly after I started using a computer, I started putting music on my computer.  Fast forward quite a few years and here I am with a number of quad-core processor boxes, running linux (like the old unix days), with [insert deity] only knows how many gigs of music storage.

I have used every media player I could find, across Windows and linux.  My favorite is VLC, hands down.  Unfortunately every one I have ever used bugs the hell out of me.  With, for sake of argument, twenty gigs of music on a hard drive, why does every player only play a tiny amount of my music when set to random?  I can hear the same songs several times during the week and most not at all.  To throw a larger raspberry at me, sometimes it will play two songs by the same artist.  What are the odds? (rhetorical question, thank you)


My wife, bless her pointy little head, decided to swap my 100+ song cd's in the car for a few single album cd's.  When I asked where she hid them, she told me they were in the glove compartment.  Surprise - she had hidden them so well even she couldn't find them.   And as much as I like (some of) her music, the same old songs are getting a bit long in the tooth.. and the radio is broken, only due to content.

So yesterday I burned a random mp3 cd for the car, picking songs from directories on the hard drive.  It was incredibly refreshing to drive home with all new songs.  The sad realization was that since I've been working for ten years, there shouldn't be all these `new' songs to play: the players should have played them all randomly.

I'm sure it isn't just me.  A guy across from me agrees, so it must be universal!

---------------------

If you are moved to suggest a player, consider that I only run linux and am not looking for a ridiculously large, heavy player to manage my music.  I do not wish to manage my music; I only want to play it.

Unity isn't Linux, Julie

Julie Bort, a writer I enjoy at Network World, just finished up two weeks using linux (Ubuntu, to be specific) and wrote a column.

Committing one's self to a new operating system fully for two weeks (she cheated a little) is a pretty brave endeavor for anyone and I applaud her.   Heaven knows I would not offer to use an operating system I have never touched before for one day, no less two weeks.

Julie's column at the end of the first week made use of the word pain.  Being a helpful linux person, I emailed some suggestions.  In the final column, she mentioned she "LOVED the way readers of these posts offered me suggestions on fixes and new stuff to try. There is so much good natured help on the 'net for anything you want to do in Linux. That's the beauty of it, and what keeps me coming back for more."


I don't think a more eloquent statement about linux has ever been uttered.  You simply don't find this sense of community among users of other operating systems.

Community aside, if you view her list of complaints, they seem to revolve around Unity, the desktop.  Unity is a rather polarizing new desktop which comes standard with Ubuntu these days (unless you download Kubuntu, Xubuntu, or other variants). You are not stuck with Unity; as with most things linux, you can go with what suits you best.  My choice is Xubuntu, which uses the XFCE desktop, a rather fast and lightweight choice.

I am one of those people who doesn't like Unity.  It first arrived in a customized Ubuntu for a netbook and I hated it immediately.  While I suspect it might be helpful for someone who has never touched linux, I simply replaced it with XFCE.

According to Julie's final column, there are apparently quite a few bugs in Unity.  Had she had used a different desktop, these issues would not have made the article, which might scare people away unnecessarily.

Not that there weren't positives expressed...

"I generally appreciated the sophisticated feel of Unity, compared to the "childish" but far more straightforward look of GNOME 2.3x"

On the other hand, this sounds like it came from a Mac user.

Good on ya', Julie, for the fair shot and interesting articles.

Dear Mr. Hyundai

Good day, Sir.

I did quite a bit of research before I purchased my Hyundai Sonata.  The cars constantly come up at the top of Consumer Reports' reports and I hear nothing but good things from owners.

Before my Sonata, I owned nothing but big cars.   Really big cars.  Cars of the class Land Yacht.  Vehicles that had different area codes in the front and rear seats.   Purchasing a Sonata was tacit admission that I could no longer afford land yachts.

The joke, of course, was on me.  My Lincoln got seventeen miles per gallon.  My Sonata gets eighteen to twenty-four (with two less cylinders).

But don't take this as a shot at Hyundai.  My Sonata, purchased as a three year old vehicle, has started every morning and has never failed me (which is more than I can say for the ancient Town Car).

The real shocker came when it was time to purchase new tires.  Why a three year old car needs new tires is beyond the scope of this post.

So tell me:  whose brilliant idea was it to put performance tires on a Hyundai?  Why does a sedan require two-hundred-dollar tires?  Does it have something to do with those silly ethnic wheels?


I have been putting large, round rubber tires on cars since I was sixteen.  Not even the largest and most expensive luxury tire has ever approached this ridiculous price point.  Why?

Today I took the car in for inspection and learned another Interesting Fact<tm>: apparently the same joker who selected the tires had a hand in selecting and placing the bulbs.  Two repair stations told me to take the car to a dealer to have the bulbs replaced; it was too difficult for them.  The inspection station had no trouble at all, in fact, charging me the better part of one hundred dollars to do the job.

I have been replacing bulbs since before I could drive.  Somebody over there at Hyundai is having the last laugh on owners in spectacular fashion.

Are your tires and bulbs made of Unobtanium?  Do you get a kickback from tire manufacturers?  I do not drive a hot rod.  In fact, it's more of a boring family sedan on purpose.  I was hoping to avoid this nonsense....

I will continue to insist that Hyundai makes good, solid cars, adding that a serious investment program (or retirement fund) is required for tire and bulb replacement.

Sincerely,

leftystrat
from the blogosphere

Define Cruelty

I remember all the way back to Friday.  I was telling a friend that I was going to get up off my posterior and head out over the weekend.  I was almost excited.

Then it snowed.  It was almost as if it were personal.

But the true definition of cruelty, and I'm sure you'll agree if you think about it, is a non-cooperative coffee machine on Monday morning.

I've been at the present job for ten years.  Over that time, we've spent days, weeks, and months working on a suitable Coffee Strategy.  Coffee doesn't come easy.  Yes, we do have the coffee machines thoughtfully provided by our employer.  These are really convenient little machines and, when loaded, produce something in the general neighborhood of coffee (or hot chocolate) but not close enough for me.  And they're frequently not loaded, producing the sickest shades of coffee and hot chocolate imaginable.  Unfortunately they don't taste much better than they look, loaded or not.

Being a proper coffee fanatic, I decided the only way to go was to bring in beans, a grinder, and a four pot coffee maker.  This became so successful that we evolved to a twelve cup coffee maker.

It was at this point that we hit our Major Stumbling Block<tm>.  I noticed that if I didn't make coffee, it didn't get made.  Somewhat coincidentally, if I didn't clean the pot, it didn't get cleaned.  Suffice it to say that a dirty coffee pot can grow some of the most interesting blue-green `stuff' you've ever seen.  After a while it evolves speech.  This, while interesting, becomes a bit of a pain in the ass, as it just sits there, saying:

"Clean me."
"Clean me."

Then we discovered Keurig.  These are miraculous machines, wherein you fill them with water, put in a cup, put in a little coffee pod, push the button, and coffee appears in your cup.

And you don't have to wash any pots.

This was a miracle for us, provided we could get someone to pick up the coffee pods.  It was almost foolproof.

Until this morning, of course.

Here we are, yet another Monday, coming into work and pressing the BREW button for some of that magical go-juice.

And the machine just stared back at us.


A helpful person observed that sometimes it starts slowly.  I added that perhaps it's having prostate issues: it gets started slowly but eventually disburses liquid.

And it gave me half a cup of brew.

This is simply cruel.  Monday morning, of all mornings, is precisely the wrong morning to mess with my coffee.  I have barely enough oomph to operate the coffee machine, no less hurl it across the room in a petulant frenzy (a petulant frenzy?).

While we're on the topic, this particular machine is not without its drawbacks.  While it's basically effortless in the coffee-making area, one still has to procure things like cups, sugar, and creamer.  I have noticed that at least one of these things is missing when I go to make my singular cup of coffee.

I may go to put in sugar, only to find it empty.  After I procure more sugar, via an act that is probably illegal in at least thirty states, I get back to notice that the creamer is also short.  It took me way too long to remember to check everything before I hit BREW.

Since there were no additional cups, I had to go to the kitchen to dump out my measly half cup of coffee (which was starting to eat through the cup anyway) and get some more cups.  I ran a cup of plain water, which took on an eerie brown and crunchy shade, and had another go at regular old coffee.

VOILA!  An actual cup of coffee.  Success at last.

Of course I feel sorry for anyone who has to deal with me today, but at least I got my coffee.

----------

Today is Halloween.  My department is dressing as MIS people with bad attitudes.

By all accounts, we've nailed it.

Kids - Like Them or Not....

I've always been up front about my general dislike of children.  I told my wife they were not an option from the beginning.  I figure I'm not done being a child by far so there really isn't any reason to bring one into the world.  Plus there are plenty who don't have it so great already....

I have nephews; two to be precise.  They tolerate me a hell of a lot better than I do them.

We visit friends for Sunday dinner.  The place is impossible to describe.  Suffice it to say that living there are two multiples, a psychologist, an artist, a pair of eighty-somethings with selective dementia, a pharmacist and several partridges complete with their own pear trees.

Another family that sometimes visits caused most of the assembled masses to state that the children had a better chance with wolves than that particular set of parents.  But since they were family.....

A while back one half of the parents got sent to jail on firearms-related charges.  We could not decide if that was a good thing for the kids or not.  The remaining parent, and I use the term loosely, treated everyone else as free babysitting for the baby born just after one of them reported to prison.

I used to call one of the kids Bobble-Head because he looked just like one of those dolls with its head on a spring that wobbled back and forth.  It probably hurt but my wife had to agree - the kid's head was rather large-ish.  The other child was very nice but was already starting to lose entire days.  Not a good sign.

After prison started, Bad Parent #2 hooked up with Random Male #1.  Strangely enough, they produced Little Child #2.  Shortly thereafter, Random Male #1 started beating Bobble-Head.

There was obviously only one thing to do and Bad Parent #2 did what was necessary. She put Bobble-Head in the car and halfway through the ride, explained that he was going to live with his grandmother.  Unfortunately she never checked with Grandmother.

So we all had dinner tonight and Bobble-Head sat with us.  My wife remarked that he really has grown into his head (which still makes me laugh).  She says it's a Polish trait (and who am I to argue?).

The child was dropped off with some shorts (yesterday was the surprise snow storm before Halloween) and three pairs of too-small underwear.

One of the denizens was nervous because lefty does not like children.  It's ok - he may not be terribly fond of them but he won't bite.

I know Bobble-Head has a much better chance with this assemblage than his natural parents.  And since he had a better chance with (random) wolves, I guess he's ahead by two.  But I can't stop wondering what was going on in Bad Parent #2's head (or not going on, as the case my be).

No, I LIKE the Nerdy Look

It was a bad morning to have an eight o'clock doctor appointment.  Strike that - any day is a bad day to have an eight o'clock doctor appointment.  The only thing worse than an eight o'clock doctor appointment ....

Is getting out of the elevator to find twelve people sitting on the floor in front of the locked office.

I learned things this morning.

Things like this might be another of the doctor's `emergencies', as this isn't the first time a crowd had assembled outside.  In fact, I understand they're thinking about putting chairs in the hallway.

People bond over the weirdest stuff... it's amazing what people will say to each other in a hallway, never having met before.  You'd think you were on Faceyspaces or something....

One fellow used to be in the navy.  I'm not sure what the relevance is to this bit of information but he was fond of starting his sentences with `Well, I was in the navy for twenty years and...'

Another lady regaled us with tales of conspicuous consumption.  Of diet soda.

A teen held forth on the topic of nerdiness and how she was purposely going for the nerd look by wearing fake glasses.  Quite frankly, I spent the early part of my life trying to get away from the nerd look, so I sat there in mute horror.  Do you suppose Claudia Schiffer ever turned to her agent and said she needed some thick glasses with that bikini?  Did Adriana Lima storm off the Victoria's Secret shoot and state her intention to trade her push-up bra for a pocket protector?  The mind boggles.

An attractive and very sympathetic young lady kept reminding me that it was not nice (nor was it legal) to do most of the things I was suggesting to the doctor, should he ever arrive.

Speaking of arrival, one guy asked me what time my appointment was (eight o'clock).  Sudden realization hit me when he mentioned having been there since just after six.  At about this point, the entire assemblage stood up, signed their names to a piece of paper, shoved it in the mail slot and left.

It was the finest Synchronized Leaving Event<tm> I have ever witnessed and it did my heart good to be part of it.

Apparently they didn't lift my prints from the note, as the office called me later.  Funny how they managed to find my number a few hours later, as opposed to some time before all of my new friends had time to assemble in the hallway...  Yes, it was an emergency, plus some nonsense about somebody dying.  I don't believe a word, especially about the emergency, plus it takes huevos grandes to lie about a death in the family.

My wife says it sounds like he drinks.  That's a rather odd thing to say out of the blue, but then again, she's not the average wife.

What, you ask, is the moral of this story?

• Don't take any grief from doctors (but be nice to their staff)
• Demand to be paid for your time
• If you're going to have sex with a fellow patient, make sure you're protected.