You Just Can't Get There from Here

I got the snail mail the other day.  The mail that even used car owners detest: the recall notice.  Yes, my five year old car has been recalled.  It went on for a few pages but the best I can pull out of it is that there's something wrong with the suspension, which will result in either nothing or horiffic collision and catastrophic fire if ignored.

I'm going to take it to the dealer, as I'm simply not in the mood for catastrophic fire during the holidays. It probably just hates the weather here, as do I.

Last year, you might remember, our car was almost ruined by one of the local suicidal deer.  Perhaps it's a seasonal thing.

Things Just Ain't What They Used to Be

I may have detailed my rapid exit from Baskin Robbins or I may not have.  We had this lovely Baskin Robbins around the corner from my house, where we'd go to get our favorite ice cream confections.  I could be counted on for roughly the same thing every time: cookie dough ice cream with marshmallow topping.  There was something about their marshmallow topping that really set off the ice cream.

Time went on and Baskin Robbins closed [horrors!].  For whatever reason, Baskin Robbins started sharing space with Dunkin Donuts (my wife's motto: Do Not Pass Dunkin Donuts' coffee, Do Not Collect Two Hundred Dollars).

The first time I went into one of these establishments, I had high hopes for the combination.  That was, right up until I placed my order.  They had the cookie dough ice cream but the did not have the marshmallow topping.  Oh, the humanity!

Have you ever tried to explain marshmallow topping to an Eastern Indian gentleman whose first language is not english?  Suffice it to say that the New and Improved Baskin Robbins does not carry marshmallow topping.  Cross that one off.  I even emailed Corporate (and got no response).

Flash forward many years to my dear nephews wanting an ice cream cake in the shape of a turkey.  Their dear mother promised them one, yet failed to consider how to obtain it.  Even I know that you do NOT promise something to a child that you cannot deliver.

Since my sis-in-law suggested Carvel, I started there.  Much like the Great Marshmallow Crisis of 2013, Carvel presented me with a problem: if I wanted to purchase a turkey cake, I'd have to drive to the next state.  If I wanted to order one online, I only had to drive about fifty miles to pick it up.  So much for Carvel.

Next up was [wait for it...]  Baskin Robbins.  We set off to order a cake at the Baskin Robbins/Dunkin Donuts down the street.  We figured while there, why not get some ice cream (since it was the coldest day of the year anyway).

Halleleujah -we located the turkey cake, which came in many sizes with many ice cream choices.  We went to order it and were told that they only accepted orders in the morning.

In the morning?

Yes, in the morning.

Apparently Universal Alignment somehow dictates whether an employee can take a cake order.  Maybe there was feng shui involved too - it's certainly over my pay grade.  Maybe the only employee capable of filling out an order form works mornings.  Let's face it - you want to disrupt the coffee and donut ordering with cake ordering in the morning, right?

So we got some ice cream anyway.  The lady behind the counter knew what marshmallow was.  She also knew she didn't carry it (it was worth a try).  Off we went to eat our ice cream when we had to get back in line: she had not provided us with spoons.  I don't know if they were extra or we were expected to consume the ice cream like my dog undoubtedly would.

The next morning my wife returned to order the cake.  The same lady who couldn't take our order and didn't believe in spoons took her order.  To make things more interesting, the cake only came in one size (not the one advertised) and with limited ice cream choices.  It was also hideously expensive (we could have bought two Carvel cakes).

I think we've been more than fair to Baskin Robbins.  Not so much the other way.

Great Python News!

The boys will be reuniting for a show!

No word on how (or if) Graham Chapman will appear.  Probably tastelessly.


Thanks - we needed this.

B-B-B-Bird Bird Bird, Bird is the Word

Before we go any further, you should probably watch this.

Now that I have control of your mind, I'll tell you a little story.

Long ago (last Monday), in a land far away (my house), I got home from work and saw some sort of flash or shadow go past.  It only registered subconsciously.

And then I saw it: we had acquired a bird.  In the house.  And it was flying around, desperately trying to get out.

And I desperately wanted it out.

I'd like to tell you what kind of bird it was but the best I can come up with is small and gray. Oddly enough, the pets took little notice until the cat finally caught sight of the little bugger.  His inability to fly, in the face of this ornithological event, vexed him mightily.  It also vexed me, as I value his ability as a hunter and this would mean the end of my problem.

But alas, the ground-dwelling feline remained firmly planted on the carpet, while the errant bird stubbornly continued to occupy the ceiling and parts north.

Since I had Important Things<tm> to do, I allotted five minutes to try eradicating the Bird Problem myself.  I thought it was sheer brilliance on my part (I am frequently told that I am my best audience) to turn off all the house lights and open the front door, figuring that the small gray thing would head for parts outside.

Naturally I was mistaken.

The dog still failed to notice his new houseguest, instead opting to search for any spare cat food that might be left about.  As it turns out, this is one of his main activities.

Having exhausted my five minutes, I went about my other business.  The bird flew upstairs and wasn't heard from again.

My wife, fresh from napping, was made aware of the situation.  Just as I was saying the bird had left, it swooped across the ceiling again.  The wife was most impressed, springing into action and locking the bird in the rear area of the house, close to the door.  Apparently it hadn't found the second floor as hospitable as we do.

The following morning we came down and noted that the bird had failed to go out the back door, instead somehow managing to go through the closed dividing door and hanging around the living room some more.

My wife lept to attention, and with the help of a broom, somehow managed to convince our new pet to exit via the front door.  Everyone was impressed (except the cat).

We were really curious as to how the little monster managed to get through a closed dividing door, so we opened it.

What did we find?

The bird.  In the rear of the house.

Apparently we had somehow acquired two birds.

Again springing to action, the wife, again with the broom, managed to eradicate the house of the Bird Problem.  Hopefully once and for all.

How the birds got into the house, we do not know.  While they do like to fly into our clean windows, like that stupid window cleaner commercial, they do not generally like to spend quality time with us.

When I told this tale at work, I mentioned that normal people get one bird in their house.  I was immediately corrected by a coworker: normal people get no birds in their house.

Yes, Deer...

No, I didn't spell that incorrectly.  More later.

How was your week?  I ask because mine was a real doozy.

So it's Thursday night and I'm waiting for the wife to pick me up from work.  I leave at four.  Round about four thirty, I called her, wondering where she was.  Round about five, she returned the call, apologizing profusely for falling asleep and telling me she was on her way.

Closing in on six, I got another call: she had hit a rock and gotten a flat.  Triple-A was forty five minutes away, so she'd be really late.

An hour later, guess what?  Yet another call.  Triple-A hadn't exactly appeared yet, although she had been on the phone with them for a while, attempting to give directions to the apparently direction-impaired soul driving the truck.

I don't know about you but I'd think that a national auto rescue corporation would have something of a sense of direction or at least a GPS.  Old school maps, maybe?

But no.

Another hour later, another call.  This time she called Triple-A and was told the direction-impaired driver terminated the request, which was her prerogative.  Unfortunately, nobody bothered to tell my wife; neither Sparky the driver nor the dispatcher.  This caused the entire process to start again.

You'd think a national auto rescue agency would have more than one driver in a large metropolitan area.  Still, it would be up to another hour.

Meanwhile at work, it's getting pretty bleak.  The entire crew has left for the day and I'm holding down the fort.  If I were the easily shakeable sort, I'd be terrified.  Instead I was bored.  Horribly bored.  So bored that I had to resort to doing my own work.  And maybe watching a little South Park.

The next wifely call revealed that the battery was dead.  Why?  Because Sparky the Direction-Impaired driver told my wife to leave the headlights on so she could be located easier.  Meanwhile the occupant of the house in front of which my wife was broken down, wandered over to inquire what she was doing parked across her driveway.  Once explained, she was terribly accommodating, offering food and a rest room, just in case.

Eventually a second driver showed up and had the car running in no time.  He was polite, had no trouble finding her at all and really wanted to assist her.

Closing in on ten pm, I was rescued from work.


FRIDAY

My wife said she'd be at Pep Boys first thing in the morning, bless her, to get the bad tire replaced (we had a warranty).  I took the opportunity to sleep late.

Unfortunately so did my wife. Or rather, her alarm slept late.

Off I went to Pep Boys, in a flurry of loving epithets and general four-letter verbal exercises.  Pep Boys, to their credit, jumped right on matters.

I somehow managed to VPN into work, thus becoming the first member of my department ever to work from Pep Boys.

Hours later, I had my replaced tire.  Too many hours, in fact, to efficiently return to work, so I went home.

While home, my wife informed me she couldn't find her credit cards.

Yes, the Tire Incident had morphed into a Missing Credit Card incident. [I am not blaming any organization or person, other than perhaps my wife for not having had them stapled to her forehead].

I had a doctor's appointment at seven.  Something looked odd about the car.  Of course something looked odd - I had a flat.  Yes, another flat - this time on a different tire.

Cursing Pep Boys and the Universe in general, I tore through the trunk, looking for our poor excuse for a spare and the tools necessary to change it.   Naturally the tire was in plain sight but the tools had entered the fifth dimension, which is located either at the very bottom of a car's trunk or the very bottom of a woman's pocketboot.

Continuing to curse, I somehow managed to change the tire with enough time to get to the doctor's.
While there, I inquired whether he had gotten a referral from my primary.

Oops.

Didn't he talk to me about this?  He just went cash-only.  No insurance.

Oh.

Well, that was awkward.
And wasn't his fee exactly the amount of money I had for the week?

Meanwhile, my wife had taken the entire day off and was spending it snoring on the couch.  As she had given up sleep for lent forty years ago, I left her alone.

SATURDAY

Back among the living, the wife took care of her missing credit cards and license, then went back, again, to Pep Boys.  Pep Boys fixed the issue with haste.

I don't know what they did to my car but it tends to veer toward Pep Boys whenever it sees one.

SUNDAY

After a day of rest, we were off to visit friends.

SMASH - out of the supermarket, we were almost hit.
BLORP - fifteen minutes later we narrowly avoided hitting yet another kamikaze deer.


Go ahead - tell me it's not personal.

Jeff Beck AND Brian Wilson?

Hey - you got your Brian Wilson on my Jeff Beck.

Hey- you got your Jeff Beck on my Brian Wilson.

Like a bad old tv commercial, it started.  What genius put this roster together?  How could it possibly work, logistically?  What in the universe do the two acts have in common?  Does Surfin' USA require a rip-roaring lead?

I'll be honest - I stayed home last time Jeff Beck came around because I had seen his Les Paul tribute on disc but it wasn't what I wanted to see from Mr. Beck live.  We had no idea what to expect from this out-of-the-blue offering.  We also brought my nephew along, a budding shred-monster himself.

We were extremely worried at first, largely due to the nine dollar hotdog and Coke.  I know I sound like an Olde Pharte here but recently I have been charged twenty five dollars to park and five for a soda; this is patently ridiculous.

The Beck camp blew it on merchandising too: there was not a shred of product with his name on it that didn't also have Wilson's name.  El Becko seemed to appear as an afterthought, even on the twenty dollar coffee cups.

We were excited, having spent the better part of a mortgage payment on seats.  The excitement turned to disappointment when we got seated, as I was apparently on some form of advanced hallucinogenic when I ordered.  I remembered ordering first section; we got seated further back.  Fortunately there are no bad seats at the Tower Theater (David Bowie and Al DiMeola recorded live albums there).

Looking at the stage, we were trying to decide on whether to be excited or horrified: there was no separate stage setup for the two acts.  We were hoping this wasn't going to turn out to be some bizarre circus.

I am not a Beach Boys fan.  I don't dislike them either.  I figured they were price to pay to get to see Jeff Beck.  This went right out the window with the first song.  Brian and crew took the stage and sang an incredible tune a capella.  Never heard it before but it was spellbinding.  Many have made sport of the Beach Boys' failing vocals but there was not a sour note the whole evening.  Imagine the best Beach Boys cover band in the world, then put Brian Wilson and Al Jardine up in front of it and there you have it.

My wife slowly turned into a fan but kept shaking her head about what we must be doing to her nephew, who is younger than every one of their songs.  He came to watch The Master play, not watch a nostalgic surf act.  However, he did truly appreciate the show, even if he had never heard most of the songs.

There was a veritable city of musicians onstage.  At any time there were up to five guitars, three keyboards, drums, percussion and everybody sang  [Mike Love who?].  Brian Wilson was in fine form, regardless of his past or what you might have heard.

After an energetic set, they cleared the stage for Jeff Beck, keeping most of the instruments there for later.  Jeff and company hit the stage with a bang and his trademark grin.  The band consisted of a tall black drummer whose name escapes me, Rhonda Smith on bass, a tall lady on violin, Jeff and an additional guitarist(!) who turned out to be triggering keyboards with his guitar (like Jennifer Batten used to do).   Yes, I'm horrible with names.  Everyone was in top form.  Rhonda Smith is a monster on bass.

They did Stratus, Big Block, Where Were You, A Day in the Life, How High the Moon, Rollin and Tumblin, You Never Know and others.  He even whipped out a tear-jerker of a version of Little Wing.  I didn't think things were going to work with a violin and guitar-triggered keys but it all fell together well.

The most interesting part was when they called Brian Wilson and most of the band back.  They sang while Jeff segued from Goodbye Pork Pie Hat into Brush with the Blues.  It was absolutely staggering. It was like Jeff was playing the Beach Boys as an instrument.  All the harmonies were there, as if they were some giant sampling keyboard playing along with the band.

Although his sound was not as clear as Brian's, Jeff delivered in spades.  At the end, everybody played.  And sure enough, Surfin' USA got a rip-roaring lead.

Before the show started, when we were getting nervous, I said out loud that this didn't look good and I'd love to be happily surprised.  I was.  We were.  And my nephew heartily approved of his second Jeff Beck outing.

See this tour - you won't be disappointed.

Guess What Your Children Just Ate...

I didn't realize it til about half the day was done but I was having a pretty bad day yesterday.  Sometimes it starts with a bang, sometimes a whisper and sometimes, as it did yesterday, it comes by phone.....

"Guess what your children just ate," asked the wife on the phone.

This is never a good question.  They're only mine when they do something bad.  Apparently the cat discovered leftover Mexican food (Chipotle's) on the stove.  In a move guaranteed to baffle Pet Science, he somehow managed to move it to the edge of the stove, then catapult it to the floor, where both of the little buggers consumed it.

Have you ever heard of this kind of inter-species cooperation before?  They could have their own show: Ren and Marshall Rule the Roost, Sundays on Animal Planet.

I got this news right before lunch.  I had to go out for lunch because Ren had consumed parts of my lunch the night before.  Off the eight of us went, because my boss made the mistake of mentioning french toast, causing a Food Avalanche.

Although I complained about this diner, with their twenty dollar burgers, we were on our way.  Up we pulled, only to discover that the diner had gone out of business.  They had the nerve to never even let us know.

Again, off we went, to one of our usuals.  Everyone got their food and exactly what they ordered.  Except me, of course.  The waitress kept telling me it was coming up any minute now.    Ten minutes later my sandwich arrived.  Perhaps they had to grow the chicken to make sure it was truly fresh.

Hours later, back at work, my wife and Marshall came to pick me up.  Ever the demure and classy lady, my wife asked me if I knew what my son just did.

Uh-oh.

"He pooped on your seat in the car, after that Mexican food."


My coworkers fell like dominoes.


Although I'm against them on principle, I suddenly became thankful for car seat covers.  The ride home was less than odiferous and we were relieved.  Not as relieved as Marshall, but still.


After all of that I began to feel that the Universe was having a bit of a giggle at my expense.  It has certainly happened before and I expect it will certainly happen again.

At this point, you know that there could only be one thing left: the lawnmower.

I filled the bastard with gas, as I ran out one quarter of the way through over the weekend.  At this point I need to remind all of my good friends here that there is simply nothing I hate more than mowing the lawn.  There's no logical reason for it but there we are.  I'd almost rather sit in that lovely chair at my dentist's office (Dr. Mengele).

The throttle cable simply broke a while back and I've spent most of my time jury-rigging it to function but the mower had had enough of me at that point; it was going to keep quitting while I tried to keep mowing.

I'm surprised you guys in Florida didn't hear me spend an hour or so screaming at the five horsepower beast.  I would mow a few strips and the beast would shut off.  I would adjust the new wire and it would start, mow a bit, then shut off again.  Then I would burn myself trying to fix it, causing yet another fusillade of Very Nasty Words and a warning from my wife that there are children on the block.

When one is in the middle of a good old-fashioned tirade, the last thing we need to hear is that there are children on the block.  Most of the children on the block, especially the ones produced by the Loud Family, have vocabularied that far exceed mine, especially when they're outside flipping off their parents.

My wife attempted to help but that didn't work out so well.  I suggested she either fix it herself or sit on the steps and supervise: two alpha males cannot fix a lawnmower.  Or much of anything else.

After some more wire and even more screaming, I managed to finish off the lawn, to everyone's great relief.  Having had the pleasure earlier of throwing out the errant car seat cover, I was free to sit down and sweat all over my recliner.

But the joke, as usual, was on me: Marshall's new pool got filled and he was racing all over the house, completely soggy from swimming and sitting on all the furniture.


Yeah, we're a tv show without need for scripting.

Hey Hey We're the Monkees (again)

Never mind that someone had a baby in England; we saw the Monkees again.

Their Philly stop was at the Mann Center, a great venue in a bad neighborhood.  It is also proof positive that Philly is a screaming cesspool.  Some genius scheduled some sort of run at the same time, so traffic was a complete nightmare.  It must have taken an hour to get down the street and into the venue.  This was burning up valuable Monkees Time, turning what was left of my mood to black.

We managed to get seated seconds before the boys hit the stage, missing the entire pre-show video montage.  These fellows make very good use of video and traditionally have.  It ran during the entire show and was almost interactive in spots.  Not bad for the Pre-Fab Four.

The show wasn't seriously different from last year's mini tour; just expanded a bit.  The weather must've been quite a shock for the guys.  It was just short of ninety degrees with disgusting humidity (welcome to Philthy!).  They joked repeatedly about how cold they were, all the while toweling themselves off.

I had my Galaxy S3 and my buddy took his iPhone.  My pictures were craptastic, barely in focus at best.  I remember looking over the phone then looking at the phone to compare the scene.  We had tremendous seats but the pictures look like we were really far away.  This might be a physics thing - I have no idea.  I did manage to get a video of Daydream Believer, where they brought a guy and his son up to sing.  This turned out decently in terms of audio, as everything else I recorded was way overloaded.  The video was crappy.

My friend's iPhone exhibited the same crappy picture effects, albeit a litte closer and more clear.  The videos were much better.  Much as I hate to do it, I have to give the video advantage to the iDevice.

My poor wife suffered from the humidity.  On the way out, it started raining and we got quite a display of lightning.  Then we started our Sherman tank and began the exit routine, dutifully plowing our way through the completely unmarked parking lot onto the completely unmarked streets.  As part of their Neighborhood Beautification Project, they removed all the street signs.  The traffic was not only unbearable, it was quite dangerous, as people were simply driving anywhere they felt like.

All of this beauty was brought to us care of a fifteen dollar fee to park.  It's not enough we paid the userous price for the concert tickets - we had to pay a further amount to sit our car there for two hours.

Below are a few pictures but they're pretty bad.  I would post the video but it's huge.  Maybe later on YouTube.

It's early in the tour - you should really get tickets and see the show.  It's very entertaining for fans and newbies alike.

It's About Physics

Apparently a member of British royalty is about to have a baby.  I'm going to get in trouble for this from my singular British reader but I completely fail to get the fuss.  It's like no one in England has ever had a baby before.  They're lined up outside the palace and Twitter is on alert.

Of course, some of these are female people who would wear entire horses on their heads, given half a chance.  That probably explains a lot of this.

I watched people at work congratulating a coworker on his wife being pregnant.  Now to the best of my knowledge, it was a fairly common, straighforward process.  People were essentially congratulating the good fellow for inseminating his wife.

Maybe it's because I'm not a parent (unless you count Marshall and Ren, to whom we did not give birth).

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Speaking of work, the Twilight Zone<tm>, where the law of gravity is merely a suggestion, is back to its former glory.  Since it's summer, the Philly area is dealing with its fourth heat wave, full of ninety degree plus days with outrageous humidity.  Historically, my office does not cool well (aside from all of us being full of hot air).

Finally we got the building manager to make a rare stop and evaluate the situation.  We figured he might be somewhat alarmed by the eighty degree temperatures oppressing the staff and perhaps he could come up with somewhat of a solution.

This is precisely why I hate optimists.

Our little Miracle Man jumped up with a solution: he was going to put in a few more fans.  You know, fans, to blow the hot air around a bit.  He swore that was the correct solution to our problem.

Undaunted, my boss suggested perhaps some air conditioners were in order.  We used to have some of those huge room air conditioners that looked like the robot from Lost in Space ("DANGER, Will Robinson").

Alas, no.  Building Man swore up and down that he was going to put some thermostats in the room to prove to us that air conditioners weren't going to cool the place down.  Thermostats.

Had my department told people they were wrong, we are right and let us do what's best for you, we'd all be out, in near one hundred degree weather, looking for jobs.


Oddly enough, this morning I arrived to air conditioners.  And no thermostats.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

But wait... not only do you get British Babies and Tales of Distant Air Conditioners, you also get The Great Coffee Cup Dance!

We have some decent coffee machines at work.  They grind the beans before serving you, which is pretty neat.   This week we got new coffee cups too.

The cups are a strange form of paper.  Most importantly, the cups are too small.  When you push the BREW button, it fills up the cup, then overfills it.  When you go to pick it up, you get the strong feel of incredibly hot, fresh-brewed coffee, burning your hand.

I let out a few choice obscenities.

I suspect our next corporate purchase will be water-soluble drinking cups (which dissolve when you put liquid in them).

The Joes Are Sloppy with This One

My wife has a problem with Sloppy Joes.

It's not so much eating them as making them.  The past two times have turned out really ugly and last night was no exception.

A very important point here is that my wife is a very wise, well-educated woman, capable of anything.  Well, almost anything.

Last year we were scheduled for Sloppy Joes so my wife went ahead and made them.  When I went to eat one, I noticed a certain lack of texture.  As it turned out, she had forgotten to put the actual beef in the sloppy joe mix.  We got sauce, onions and spice but no beef.

Boy was she red.

Last night I personally fetched the beef and left it out to defrost at her request, so I knew we were not going to be in for vegan sloppy joes again.

When I went to get some of the sloppy delicacy, I immediately noticed something missing.  No, the meat was there, as was the sauce.   This time there were no onions or additional spices.  And we spice everything.

I asked about the onions politely, so as not to seem ungrateful.  She allowed as to how she hadn't put any onion in and why hadn't I asked for it.

Well, she had something of a point there; I hadn't asked for it.  I had only taken out the onion and left it next to the pan.

Next up was the missing spice.  I asked even more gingerly, so as to avoid flying cookwear (and possibly pets).  Nope, no extra spice.

One of the kids took a bite, immediately pronounced the Joes SUCKY and stated that mine were better.

I suggested my wife take this up with one of her doctors, as this is obviously an issue.  Maybe she was attacked with a can of Sloppy Joe sauce when she was little or something.

=======================================

I like to think of myself as entertaining (hence this blog).   Making people laugh is one of life's highest callings, at least for me.

My dear wife informs me that, entertaining as I am, I am much more entertaining asleep.  Apparently I put on quite the show: laughing, crying, dancing and telling jokes.  Unfortunately she had never been able to understand any of what I was saying other than the gist of what was going on.

Until the other night.

She worries endlessly about me, apparently making my sleep antics sometimes quite upsetting.  The other night I was upset about something and she finally managed to make it out:

Honey....

Honey...

BOOBIES!

I am told she didn't know whether to hit me with furniture or laugh hysterically.  Fortunately for me, she chose the latter.

I can't imagine for the life of me why she should be surprised that I, or for that matter, any male, uttered those words.  Seems perfectly normal to me, awake or asleep.

======================================

Meanwhile I am faced with a dilemma: I need shorts.  The PA summer weather is in full force, meaning that the temperatures are in the nineties, the humidity in the eighties and every day we're treated to thunderstorms.

While I am still not over the Great Sock Crisis, today we must unfortunately examine shorts.   As you might guess, the issues with both are the same: length.

Rest assured I do not want to be one of those creepy guys in Speedos.  You will never see that (thankfully).  But I have certain standards for shorts, largely that they do not come to or over my knees.  Unfortunately one cannot purchase shorts that do not come to or cover the knees, so I'm kinda screwed.  To make matters worse, shorts are so wide I refer to them as Multi-Person Pants.

Until recently I have gotten through this crisis by purchasing swim trunks, which, of course, do not come to my knees or cover them.  Unfortunately I have started to get grief and funny looks (moreso) from friends and total strangers.  My wife assures me this has to do with the lack of length of my swim trunks, plus it's apparently wrong to wear swim trunks instead of shorts.

Don't ask me - I'm still in the dark over the apparent silly height of my socks.

My wife plans to go shopping but I dread the outcome.  It's not like I don't want to go with her; it's just that I fully expect to be upset at what we find.  Plus the summer is here, which I am informed means one cannot purchase summer clothes.  If I had wanted shorts, I should have procured them when it was cold, when no one needed them.

I stopped questioning this a long time ago.  If I required things to make sense, I would have shot myself years back.

Xubuntu 13.04 - Mixed Feelings

The title about sums it up.  I installed 13.04 on two machines a week before official release and had slight issues here and there.  Several weeks later, I moved the rest of the machines over.

This was my first mistake.

Let me be blunt (for I can be no other way): the session crashes sometimes, for no particular reason.  I'm just sitting there, minding my own business, when I start a program and BOOM - get sent back to the login screen.  The weird thing about this is that it happens on more than one machine.

POOF!

I submit the crash report, like a good linux user but thus far, no relief.

So be careful out there and make your own decisions on this.

Return of the Bilderbergers

This year the group is meeting at the Watford's Grove Hotel in England.  Who are the Bilderbergers?  Only a smal handfull of the richest and most important folks in the world.  These meetings set the agenda for many topics. [courtesy Infowars.com]

Here are this year's attendees:

Chairman

FRA	Castries, Henri de	Chairman and CEO, AXA Group
DEU	Achleitner, Paul M.	Chairman of the Supervisory Board, Deutsche Bank AG
DEU	Ackermann, Josef	Chairman of the Board, Zurich Insurance Group Ltd
GBR	Agius, Marcus	Former Chairman, Barclays plc
GBR	Alexander, Helen	Chairman, UBM plc
USA	Altman, Roger C.	Executive Chairman, Evercore Partners
FIN	Apunen, Matti	Director, Finnish Business and Policy Forum EVA
USA	Athey, Susan	Professor of Economics, Stanford Graduate School of Business
TUR	Aydıntaşbaş, Aslı	Columnist, Milliyet Newspaper
TUR	Babacan, Ali	Deputy Prime Minister for Economic and Financial Affairs
GBR	Balls, Edward M.	Shadow Chancellor of the Exchequer
PRT	Balsemão, Francisco Pinto	Chairman and CEO, IMPRESA
FRA	Barré, Nicolas	Managing Editor, Les Echos
INT	Barroso, José M. Durão	President, European Commission
FRA	Baverez, Nicolas	Partner, Gibson, Dunn & Crutcher LLP
FRA	Bavinchove, Olivier de	Commander, Eurocorps
GBR	Bell, John	Regius Professor of Medicine, University of Oxford
ITA	Bernabè, Franco	Chairman and CEO, Telecom Italia S.p.A.
USA	Bezos, Jeff	Founder and CEO, Amazon.com
SWE	Bildt, Carl	Minister for Foreign Affairs
SWE	Borg, Anders	Minister for Finance
NLD	Boxmeer, Jean François van	Chairman of the Executive Board and CEO, Heineken N.V.
NOR	Brandtzæg, Svein Richard	President and CEO, Norsk Hydro ASA
AUT	Bronner, Oscar	Publisher, Der Standard Medienwelt
GBR	Carrington, Peter	Former Honorary Chairman, Bilderberg Meetings
ESP	Cebrián, Juan Luis	Executive Chairman, Grupo PRISA
CAN	Clark, W. Edmund	President and CEO, TD Bank Group
GBR	Clarke, Kenneth	Member of Parliament
DNK	Corydon, Bjarne	Minister of Finance
GBR	Cowper-Coles, Sherard	Business Development Director, International, BAE Systems plc
ITA	Cucchiani, Enrico Tommaso	CEO, Intesa Sanpaolo SpA
BEL	Davignon, Etienne	Minister of State; Former Chairman, Bilderberg Meetings
GBR	Davis, Ian	Senior Partner Emeritus, McKinsey & Company
NLD	Dijkgraaf, Robbert H.	Director and Leon Levy Professor, Institute for Advanced Study
TUR	Dinçer, Haluk	President, Retail and Insurance Group, Sabancı Holding A.S.
GBR	Dudley, Robert	Group Chief Executive, BP plc
USA	Eberstadt, Nicholas N.	Henry Wendt Chair in Political Economy, American Enterprise Institute
NOR	Eide, Espen Barth	Minister of Foreign Affairs
SWE	Ekholm, Börje	President and CEO, Investor AB
DEU	Enders, Thomas	CEO, EADS
USA	Evans, J. Michael	Vice Chairman, Goldman Sachs & Co.
DNK	Federspiel, Ulrik	Executive Vice President, Haldor Topsøe A/S
USA	Feldstein, Martin S.	Professor of Economics, Harvard University; President Emeritus, NBER
FRA	Fillon, François	Former Prime Minister
USA	Fishman, Mark C.	President, Novartis Institutes for BioMedical Research
GBR	Flint, Douglas J.	Group Chairman, HSBC Holdings plc
IRL	Gallagher, Paul	Senior Counsel
USA	Geithner, Timothy F.	Former Secretary of the Treasury
USA	Gfoeller, Michael	Political Consultant
USA	Graham, Donald E.	Chairman and CEO, The Washington Post Company
DEU	Grillo, Ulrich	CEO, Grillo-Werke AG
ITA	Gruber, Lilli	Journalist – Anchorwoman, La 7 TV
ESP	Guindos, Luis de	Minister of Economy and Competitiveness
GBR	Gulliver, Stuart	Group Chief Executive, HSBC Holdings plc
CHE	Gutzwiller, Felix	Member of the Swiss Council of States
NLD	Halberstadt, Victor	Professor of Economics, Leiden University; Former Honorary Secretary  General of Bilderberg Meetings
FIN	Heinonen, Olli	Senior Fellow, Belfer Center for Science and International Affairs, Harvard Kennedy School of Government
GBR	Henry, Simon	CFO, Royal Dutch Shell plc
FRA	Hermelin, Paul	Chairman and CEO, Capgemini Group
ESP	Isla, Pablo	Chairman and CEO, Inditex Group
USA	Jacobs, Kenneth M.	Chairman and CEO, Lazard
USA	Johnson, James A.	Chairman, Johnson Capital Partners
CHE	Jordan, Thomas J.	Chairman of the Governing Board, Swiss National Bank
USA	Jordan, Jr., Vernon E.	Managing Director, Lazard Freres & Co. LLC
USA	Kaplan, Robert D.	Chief Geopolitical Analyst, Stratfor
USA	Karp, Alex	Founder and CEO, Palantir Technologies
GBR	Kerr, John	Independent Member, House of Lords
USA	Kissinger, Henry A.	Chairman, Kissinger Associates, Inc.
USA	Kleinfeld, Klaus	Chairman and CEO, Alcoa
NLD	Knot, Klaas H.W.	President, De Nederlandsche Bank
TUR	Koç, Mustafa V.	Chairman, Koç Holding A.S.
DEU	Koch, Roland	CEO, Bilfinger SE
USA	Kravis, Henry R.	Co-Chairman and Co-CEO, Kohlberg Kravis Roberts & Co.
USA	Kravis, Marie-Josée	Senior Fellow and Vice Chair, Hudson Institute
CHE	Kudelski, André	Chairman and CEO, Kudelski Group
GRC	Kyriacopoulos, Ulysses	Chairman, S&B Industrial Minerals S.A.
INT	Lagarde, Christine	Managing Director, International Monetary Fund
DEU	Lauk, Kurt J.	Chairman of the Economic Council to the CDU, Berlin
USA	Lessig, Lawrence	Roy L. Furman Professor of Law and Leadership, Harvard Law School; Director, Edmond J. Safra Center for Ethics, Harvard University
BEL	Leysen, Thomas	Chairman of the Board of Directors, KBC Group
DEU	Lindner, Christian	Party Leader, Free Democratic Party (FDP NRW)
SWE	Löfven, Stefan	Party Leader, Social Democratic Party (SAP)
DEU	Löscher, Peter	President and CEO, Siemens AG
GBR	Mandelson, Peter	Chairman, Global Counsel; Chairman, Lazard International
USA	Mathews, Jessica T.	President, Carnegie Endowment for International Peace
CAN	McKenna, Frank	Chair, Brookfield Asset Management
GBR	Micklethwait, John	Editor-in-Chief, The Economist
FRA	Montbrial, Thierry de	President, French Institute for International Relations
ITA	Monti, Mario	Former Prime Minister
USA	Mundie, Craig J.	Senior Advisor to the CEO, Microsoft Corporation
ITA	Nagel, Alberto	CEO, Mediobanca
NLD	Netherlands, H.R.H. Princess Beatrix of The
USA	Ng, Andrew Y.	Co-Founder, Coursera
FIN	Ollila, Jorma	Chairman, Royal Dutch Shell, plc
GBR	Omand, David	Visiting Professor, King’s College London
GBR	Osborne, George	Chancellor of the Exchequer
USA	Ottolenghi, Emanuele	Senior Fellow, Foundation for Defense of Democracies
TUR	Özel, Soli	Senior Lecturer, Kadir Has University; Columnist, Habertürk Newspaper
GRC	Papahelas, Alexis	Executive Editor, Kathimerini Newspaper
TUR	Pavey, Şafak	Member of Parliament (CHP)
FRA	Pécresse, Valérie	Member of Parliament (UMP)
USA	Perle, Richard N.	Resident Fellow, American Enterprise Institute
USA	Petraeus, David H.	General, U.S. Army (Retired)
PRT	Portas, Paulo	Minister of State and Foreign Affairs
CAN	Prichard, J. Robert S.	Chair, Torys LLP
INT	Reding, Viviane	Vice President and Commissioner for Justice, Fundamental Rights and Citizenship, European Commission
CAN	Reisman, Heather M.	CEO, Indigo Books & Music Inc.
FRA	Rey, Hélène	Professor of Economics, London Business School
GBR	Robertson, Simon	Partner, Robertson Robey Associates LLP; Deputy Chairman, HSBC Holdings
ITA	Rocca, Gianfelice	Chairman,Techint Group
POL	Rostowski, Jacek	Minister of Finance and Deputy Prime Minister
USA	Rubin, Robert E.	Co-Chairman, Council on Foreign Relations; Former Secretary of the Treasury
NLD	Rutte, Mark	Prime Minister
AUT	Schieder, Andreas	State Secretary of Finance
USA	Schmidt, Eric E.	Executive Chairman, Google Inc.
AUT	Scholten, Rudolf	Member of the Board of Executive Directors, Oesterreichische Kontrollbank AG
PRT	Seguro, António José	Secretary General, Socialist Party
FRA	Senard, Jean-Dominique	CEO, Michelin Group
NOR	Skogen Lund, Kristin	Director General, Confederation of Norwegian Enterprise
USA	Slaughter, Anne-Marie	Bert G. Kerstetter ’66 University Professor of Politics and International Affairs, Princeton University
IRL	Sutherland, Peter D.	Chairman, Goldman Sachs International
GBR	Taylor, Martin	Former Chairman, Syngenta AG
INT	Thiam, Tidjane	Group CEO, Prudential plc
USA	Thiel, Peter A.	President, Thiel Capital
USA	Thompson, Craig B.	President and CEO, Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center
DNK	Topsøe, Jakob Haldor	Partner, AMBROX Capital A/S
FIN	Urpilainen, Jutta	Minister of Finance
CHE	Vasella, Daniel L.	Honorary Chairman, Novartis AG
GBR	Voser, Peter R.	CEO, Royal Dutch Shell plc
CAN	Wall, Brad	Premier of Saskatchewan
SWE	Wallenberg, Jacob	Chairman, Investor AB
USA	Warsh, Kevin	Distinguished Visiting Fellow, The Hoover Institution, Stanford University
CAN	Weston, Galen G.	Executive Chairman, Loblaw Companies Limited
GBR	Williams of Crosby, Shirley	Member, House of Lords
GBR	Wolf, Martin H.	Chief Economics Commentator, The Financial Times
USA	Wolfensohn, James D.	Chairman and CEO, Wolfensohn and Company
GBR	Wright, David	Vice Chairman, Barclays plc
INT	Zoellick, Robert B.	Distinguished Visiting Fellow, Peterson Institute for International Economics
AUT	Austria	INT      International
BEL	Belgium	IRL      Ireland
CAN	Canada	ITA      Italy
CHE	Switzerland	NLD    Netherlands
DEU	Germany	NOR   Norway
DNK	Denmark	POL    Poland
ESP	Spain	PRT    Portugal
FIN	Finland	SWE   Sweden
FRA	France	TUR    Turkey
GBR	Great Britain	USA    United States of America
GRC	Greece

Bilderberg Agenda

The 61st Bilderberg meeting is set to take place from 6 until 9 June 2013 in Hertfordshire, UK. A total of around 140 participants from 21 European and North American countries have confirmed their attendance. As ever, a diverse group of political leaders and experts from industry, finance, academia and the media have been invited. The list of participants is available on www.bilderbergmeetings.org

The key topics for discussion this year include:
• Can the US and Europe grow faster and create jobs?
• Jobs, entitlement and debt
• How big data is changing almost everything
• Nationalism and populism
• US foreign policy
• Africa’s challenges
• Cyber warfare and the proliferation of asymmetric threats
• Major trends in medical research
• Online education: promise and impacts
• Politics of the European Union
• Developments in the Middle East
• Current affairs

Founded in 1954, Bilderberg is an annual conference designed to foster dialogue between Europe and North America.

Every year, between 120-150 political leaders and experts from industry, finance, academia and the media are invited to take part in the conference. About two thirds of the participants come from Europe and the rest from North America; one third from politics and government and the rest from other fields.

The conference has always been a forum for informal, off-the-record discussions about megatrends and the major issues facing the world. Thanks to the private nature of the conference, the participants are not bound by the conventions of office or by pre-agreed positions. As such, they can take time to listen, reflect and gather insights.

There is no detailed agenda, no resolutions are proposed, no votes are taken, and no policy statements are issued.

Hey You... Get Away from that Computer

It's no secret that I work in computers.  And when I'm home, I play in computers.  Unfortunately, yesterday was one of those days when I shouldn't have been allowed anywhere near a computer.

Didja ever have one of those days?
You know, one of those days where every key you hit performs a different, hidden function, of which you were not aware?  It's definitely not you; it's the computer.  Or software.  Or operating system.

The day was actually a fine one until I decided that my phone (a Galaxy S3) needed to be rooted.  I rooted most of my phones and tablets, so this one shouldn't be an exception.  Since it's not a brand new phone, there were many methods available for rooting it.

This was my first mistake.

The first thing to investigate is if you have the right root for the right phone.  Because there are a number of phone carriers, there are a number of phone models.  A Sprint Galaxy is not the same model as a Verizon Galaxy.  Having sorted that out, you search for an appropriate root.

Most of the roots I did were done via linux and went well.  For some unknown reason, I decided to try it on Windows.

This was my second mistake.

After a few false starts, I got through process number one.  And failed.  I tried a different process, which also failed.  A third process failed but in the background I could swear I heard it giggling at me.

It had started to be become obvious that this was going to be One of Those Days<tm>.

Investigating a few more, reliable methods, I set upon implementing them.  These also failed.  The failures were no doubt aided and abetted by my favorite operating system, Windows.  People in the same room can always tell when I'm having a time with Windows.  They get to hear phrases like:

Windows: it's not an operating system, it's a virus!

and

STOP HELPING ME, WINDOWS.

and

Stupid ($*#ing operating system.


People stop and stare, most with pity on their faces.


I finally allowed Windows and rooting to declare victory.  Of course there were many methods to root the phone - none of them work.  I'm not really blaming the roots - I'm sure I have some small part in this.


I finally received my usb dongle for tv.  Before you continue pointing and laughing, it's a usb device that you plug into your computer to receive tv.  There is a project around SDR (software defined radio) that uses the dongle to receive all sorts of radio, from shortwave on up past police and amateur radio.  The best thing about this is that the dongle is about twenty dollars and all of the software is free.  It runs on linux and Windows (and probably Mac).

After doing a little research, I plugged the device into a linux box and went to work.  And when I say work, I mean trudging through the old tundra.  There was very plainly no simple way to make SDR happen.  The directions were long and complex, sometimes involving something called GIT, which translates to `GIT the hell away from this software, linux user'.

Three pieces of software later, I gave up.  Yes, sometimes I get frustrated.  One day I hope to be able to give back to the linux community.

Off to the Windows side, I figured this would have to be easier.  Plug and play, you know.

More like Plug and Pray, actually.

Windows was nice enough to keep reminding me that there was no driver for the dongle - at ten second increments.  If nothing else, the pretty blue light came on.

Three pieces of software later, I was in pain.  One flat out refused to start up, then refused to close.  Another couldn't find the right verson.  The third program went in just fine and also failed to work correctly.


Cue more screaming and cursing my incompetence, ancestry and operating systems in general.  Plus a lengthy internal dissertation on the value of dongles in impolite society.

Why is It?

Private companies have made $385 billion from our government post 9-11.

Illegal immigrants will not have to pay back taxes.

Senate ok's tax-welfare benefits for illegal immigrants.

Yet there's a sequestration on, Obamacare is going to shoot our healthcare premiums through the roof and there's no money for anything.

What is wrong here?

Is That a Divot in Your Leg or Are You Just Happy to See Me?

Strange times have (once again) invaded the loony bin that is my house.  They (whoever they are) keep telling me that I need to emphasize the positive, so I can verify that we have not been set upon by the IRS because of our libertarian, small-government beliefs.

Our names haven't surfaced in relation to Benghazi, nor have we ever heard from Hillary Clinton.

We have not heard anybody ordering coffee in the background while we're on the phone, so there's that.

We have no data in the cloud, so we're safe that way.

Now that I'm done emphasizing the positive, I can get back to my narrative.

Saturday morning Mrs. leftystrat hurt something in the shower.  She limped to the couch and sat down. And when I say sat down, I mean she oriented herself south and threw her body at the couch, in a process we refer to as Elephants with Tutus.  Or, as a friend says, Princess Grace.

The scream that ensued was not of this earth.

It sounded like she ripped something.

"It feels like I ripped something," she told me.

Five minutes later, when the screaming stopped, she discovered it was incredibly difficult to get around.  Her normal clodding about became more of a stuttering clod, followed by something that sounded like "mrmmmph... OH."

I shrunk into my chair in horror.

Things were so bad that I had to drive her to her scheduled appointment.  This is bad.  I asked if it was Hospital Time yet and was told no in no uncertain terms.

Sunday morning, in the middle of a rather interesting dream involving a different Karen, a model and a lesbian from work, I was awakened.

Why, you ask?

Because it was Hospital Time<tm>.

Once or twice a year I drop my constant use of sarcastic replies and this was it.  It took Yes Dear to a whole new level.

Emergency examinations are an exam apart from Regular examinations.  Some distant relative of Hitler grabbed my wife's leg and asked her if it hurt.

No.

How about here?

No.

How about here?

AAAAAAAAH.

Good.  How about here?

No.

It's not like the doc was looking for range of motion.... it's more like she was looking for all sorts of new ways to cause pain (for reasons only she and psychiatrists understand).

Finally one of the more alert doctors noticed what could only be called a divot on her leg.  The diagnosis was torn something or other that sounded like Velociraptor.  And the only relief would be motrin and staying off it.  She left with a soft splint-thingie, which kept slipping down her leg.


Let me say another nice thing (who am I and what have I done with leftystrat?): the hospital was terribly efficient and we were out within ninety minutes.


NOW WHAT?

I can deal with all sorts of situations.  I am a decent guy to have near you in an emergency: I only panic over stupid little shit, not the Big Stuff<tm>.  I waited on my wife like professional staff.  Since the docs mandated rest and relaxation, she was up the steps, down the steps and on the front steps to smoke.  The real question the doctors needed to ask was if the injury was so serious it interrupted smoking.  Because there's virtually nothing that can interrupt smoking (with the possible exception of death, but that's just a theory of mine).

The children were being more uncooperative than normal and a bit differently than normal.  Usually Ren, the cat, is the difficult one.  Lately they have switched places and Marshall, the dog, has become Hell on Legs.

I have described Cat Food Ballet before.  This is the process by which the little monsters are fed in the morning.  Unfortunately for me, things have gotten further out of control.

I go in the kitchen to feed Ren and close the door.  I feed Marshall on the other side.  In the midst of that, Ren opens the kitchen door and Marshall runs in, horfing up every last crumb of cat food.  When he's done with the cat food, he stands up and raids the trash can.  He's never done with the trash can. We recently discovered that both of them can flip the trash can over too.

While Marshall is in the midst of Trash Feast 2013, Ren has taken off to the dog food, which he is hungrily crunching up.  When I scream "GET OUT OF THE DOG FOOD, REN," he reluctantly moves away; one of the few times he bothers to listen.  Of course at this point, he moves away until he thinks I am done watching.

Most times after I yell at Ren, Marshall comes running, whining at Ren, and gets back into his own food.

I got so tired of watching these two lunatics running in and out of the kitchen that I finally put a ladder up against the kitchen door so neither of them could get it.  This was followed by minutes of blessed silence, until such time I had to feed the cat again.

Ren stayed in the kitchen and I put the ladder back up.  Unfortunately this didn't hold as well as last time and he kept ramming his nineteen pound bulk against the door, finally sending the leaning ladder over backwards.  Right onto a picture, smashing the glass.

I'm quite surprised that the neighbors haven't called the authorities, what with all the strained-voice yelling "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU. AND YOUR LITTLE DOG TOO!"  If my wife didn't smoke on the front step, they would be concerned that I killed the lot of them.  Except for the crazy lady next door... she's mostly deaf.  And very dumb.

When everything settles for more than a few seconds, Marshall starts whining that he has to go outside.  Oddly enough, outside can mean anything from outside to "I want to get into the trash and check the cat food situation, Dad."

Recently we discovered that someone was eating at Cat Box Cafe.  Guess who?

Marshall just got his summer haircut.  Nobody knows why but after he returns, he spends every second physically in contact with me or my wife.  He sleeps anchored to me, frequently on my pillow (in spite of my sending him back down to the other end - he just creeps back up seconds later).  He's currently attached to my wife on the couch.  He's like a large, squirmy back pillow (that farts).


This velociraptor tearing thing has to end.  I simply don't have the patience to take care of Beelzebub's Bunch and my wife at the same time.