Meet the New Year - Same as the Old Year

 

Your love is like  having to take down the Christmas tree

Benedict XVI, first pope to resign in 600 years, dies at 95.

He was buried with a few little boys to keep him company, just as it was in life.

Today I identify as  campaign manager for the green pen. Vote for pen! C'mon - he can't be any worse.

Any day now I will return to work, post-traumatic from vacation. It will be fun, going through 2 weeks of emails. No, not fun.. what's that other word? Perilous. It must've been really quiet without me, as I'm the only one who speaks, aside from the boss. I'm hoping this transferred to the email, so there aren't 400 of them waiting to be deleted.

Between vacations like this and paying mortgage, I should be working til I'm about 80. About a day after I eventually retire, Wife will lament that I should probably go back to work. I will agree, albeit silently. The dog won't know the difference.

Transgender woman's scheduled execution would be US first

I want to hear no more from the LGBTQ lobby. They are finally truly equal.

I have been agitated at rap/hips hop for a while. In fact I have been agitated before it started. But the other day, I made the mistake of letting Wife have control of the car's radio. Whenever garbage comes on (this is broadcast radio - it's all garbage), I am not allowed to change the station because "I really like this song" (Wife). Well, I have to admit, I never heard the full song before, but I was astounded at the lyrics. The intimacy, the finesse of the flow, the sheer beauty of the writing. I was stunned. This was a song that would last throughout the ages, next to Led Zeppelin and Shakespeare. I could never do it justice, but allow me to try:

Ooh baby baby

Ooh baby baby

Push it real good

Ooh baby baby.

I almost cried, but held it together because I was driving. The sheer beauty. The rhyme. The strong, witty lyricism. I cannot believe I have come this far as a musician without embracing this gift. I'm really embarrassed that I foolishly derided anything of this genre, without even giving it a fair listen. Especially because Tupac is in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. I missed the signs. All I can say is that I'll try to be more open in the future.

Ooh baby baby

Being one of the top guitarists of all time wasn't enough.

Getting an astronomy degree was also insufficient.

Now Queen's Brian May is SIR Dr. Brian May. 

So the king bestowed the honor upon a Queen. If only Freddie were here to see it.

To start off the new year, it's 50 degrees and partly sunny. I may don my bikini. The thought should scare you, especially when I forget to wax. I can't keep up with the weather... I just know it's always gray and mostly raining. There's partly sunny, partly cloudy, mostly cloudy, a bit of sun, clouds rapidly moving over the sun, more clouds, cloudy for the local sports team games, unbelievably icky, 257 individual shades of gray, and sunny for about 3 minutes. Oh yeah, there's also rainy, with a picture of a cartoon figure holding an umbrella.

Yesterday we went to Victoria's Secret. I know Victoria's Secret, by the way: how you can get so many to pay so much for so little. As I walked in, one of their young, uber-friendly salesladies (would you honestly prefer a salesMAN at Victoria's?) asked if she could help me find anything. I looked at her and with honesty, said, "Yes. My wife." Apparently no one had ever asked her this before. She was consequently of no help whatsoever. I don't fault her for her inability to help, because Wife lives in some sort of quantum anomaly. Let me explain: Wife says to go to the guitar store, then meet her a Victoria's. This is a perfectly reasonable request, so after finding absolutely no interesting left handed guitars, I was off to Victoria's. I don't mind, as anything in Victoria's benefits me too. So I scoured the store, front to back, from one side to another. There were certainly a lot of screams when I checked the changing rooms... what's wrong with these people? The only lady happily surprised for the intrusion turned out, upon further inspection, to have female lingerie, while not exactly being female. While I don't judge, I was looking for my wife, not *a* wife. I continued to the other side, which was very pink, and even checked the various nooks and crannies, without any sign of Wife. I went outside pink, went back inside, and there she was. She did not exist until the 2nd time I looked for her. That should put the quantum physicists into a spin for a few decades. 

There was a salesMAN in the makeup store. We introduced him to the guy/girl in Victoria's, and are assured we'll be invited to the wedding. At least we'll be positive that he/she will have nice lingerie for the wedding night.

That brings us back to the present, where I'm looking for a nutritious breakfast to start my day. OMG - I didn't know we had Cinnabons! This year might turn out to be alright in spite of itself. 

Communication Breakdown 

The doctors tell us we're a well-matched, compatible pair. They also tell us we have the Mother of All Communication Problems. Friends, relatives, and random people on the street have all mentioned it to us. I honestly work on our issue, trying to never come off nasty in tone or message. I kept wondering what I was doing wrong. After a few years (25), I think I'm beginning to understand:  it's her fault.

What he said                                              What she heard

I'm off today, it's a good day to clean               You never clean

We should go out for dinner, how's 5:00?                  Did somebody break your arms?

I'm going to vacuum.          You fscking slob-maybe you could lift a finger to do something

Could you please bring the dog in - she's barking       You are lower than duck shit. Were you raised by wolves? Yes, I'm calling your parents wolves. Your sister didn't fall far from the tree either. Your brother hasn't seen a sober day since he was 6. Can't you do anything right? You should be walking the dog at least 2 miles every few hours, with or without your cane-the doctor told you to exercise, which you probably never do anyway because you never get out of bed, fatso. Sure, you lost 5 pounds, what about the other 80 you put on after we got married? And your driving scares the poop out of me, as well as anyone else unfortunate enough to be on the road at the time. As frightening as your driving is, your parking is directly from hell. We're not joking when we tell you not to park on the curb. And your body odor - could you shower once in a while? I know I should be grateful that we have sex once every 4 months, whether you like it or not. Who taught you to clean a house - Pig Pen? Just because you're crazy and have papers to prove it doesn't mean you can't get a job. Have you seen the sheer number of clothes around here? I guess since you lost 5 pounds, it's time to buy you a whole new wardrobe, right? God, I make the money and all you ever do is spend it. Your clothes are from the Librarian Collection-you look 80. You looked 80 when you were 20.  And don't tell me you don't like anal either. Everybody's wife is doing it. My brother's wife is the wind beneath his wings; you are the rain on my parade.

So I bring the dog in.

I just heard about a nasty accident - train vs pedestrian. I'm guessing the train won.

Train accidents are a fascination of mine. It's not the train, it's the bumbling idiots in cars and on foot that are worth examining. Many accidents seem to happen because people think it's ok to park their vehicles on the tracks. Some would argue that they deserve any damage they get, as well as the people who go through the intersection even with the lights blinking and a train horn loud enough to wake dead people a few states over. Science would benefit from figuring out which section of their alleged brains is faulty. Perhaps we can test for it and sterilize anybody with the Stupid Gene. Heaven knows we don't need them reproducing. 

Of particular concern are the pedestrians who collide with the trains. Let's face it... it's so difficult to get hit by a train that you have to want to get hit in order for it to happen. For hundreds of years, people have somehow managed not to get hit by trains, even while walking on tracks. It's not like trains quietly sneak up on you and go BOO!. There are certainly enough external warnings. And if you are doing the science of seeing how long it takes a train to stop, you will not live long enough to see your first results.

Review: Why Does the CIA Need a Podcast?

-The director worries that the public doesn't trust his spy agency.

I can't imagine why....

MKULTRA, Frank Olson, MONARCH, LSD, nazis, operating inside the US, abuse, torture, mind control, programming, JFK, records 'lost', deep secrecy, not answering to (above) the citizens....    

But everybody deserves a 2nd chance, right?

What goes around, unfortunately comes back 

Anyone older than 10 has observed styles and trends. It's worse a few years later, when they return. I have a stack of Hawaiian shirts that has gone in and out of style 5 times. I have been ahead, in, and behind fashion at the same time.

Go into any home supply store and look at kitchens. They all seem to have this silvery or brushed aluminum finish, making them all future-y.  It wasn't always this way, you know.  For some unknown reason, the 'in' colors in the 1970s were harvest gold and avocado green. Ask your parents, grandparents, or anyone who lived through the tumultuous 70s. You could ask then-president Richard Nixon, but he's dead.

Fortunately, people came to their senses and started using considerably less ugly colors. My #1 guitar's finish is called antigua (I call it pukeburst). The outside corners are avocado green, fading to harvest gold. It is absolutely the most hideous guitar finish ever made (from 1977-1981, when Fender went off drugs). I love this finish, precisely because it's so ugly. Fender has started offering it again, which excites and confuses me to no end.

I mention this because we were in a mall with a lot of clothing stores. Some of the new clothes are harvest gold. While we didn't see any avocado green, it's only a matter of time. 50 years later, fashion has caught up with us, and boy is it UGLY.

harvest gold

avocado green- should be a bit more olive

50 year old, somewhat faded antigua (pukeburst) finish

Tesla driver blames full-self-driving software for eight-car Thanksgiving Day pile up

With Elon's Twitter news happening every 6 minutes, we need to remind you that there's always Tesla news to hold us over.  The car automatically and for no particular reason, slowed from 55mph to 20mph (37.6 grams Canadian), causing an 8 car pileup on the Bay Bridge on Thanksgiving (news travels fast from the planet of California). Note: the driver blames it on the software - police are investigating.

Speaking of which, I did manage a little fun on vacation. Whenever I went out, I pissed off other drivers by only doing 15mph over the speed limit. Boy were they red in the face. Several made hand signals, but I don't know sign language.

Also speaking of which, Tesla's Autopilot requires drivers to keep their hands on the wheel while it autosteers. It hardly seems automatic, does it?  But that's ok, I prefer drivers keep their hands on the wheel at all times. You know they won't, though. They will count on the cars having a higher IQ than they do, which will largely be correct. Your smart tv will fight your smart car over which is smarter. Meanwhile, they both send your information to the manufacturer.

Conversations with my Dog 

Me: Hello. Nice to see you.

[3 minutes later]

Me: Hello. Nice to see you again. What can I do for you?

Her: Well, you know... Mommy's in her office with the door closed, so I can't get to her.

Me: And?

Her: I need you to follow me and open the door so I can be with Mommy.

Me: And if I don't?

Her: I will keep coming into your office and leaping up on your lap, every few minutes.

Me: I'll go open her door.

Her: Thank you. You train quickly.

Professionally Late to the Party -or- Forced Vacation Days #Last

 Remember VCRs? Anything with a digital clock will do. After anything happened with the power, the clock would blink. Sometimes it would blink out of the box because you couldn't set the time. I mention this because my first sight the other morning was the oven's clock not blinking. Good, you say... it was set. Was being the operative word. In fact, it was off. In fact, the entire oven was unplugged. I don't see this often. I would have figured I was the singular human in the house who would unplug the oven. It's not that anyone's afraid of electricity, but they won't walk near an outlet in a thunderstorm. 

Also present was a piece of paper. And when I say a piece of paper, I mean half a piece of paper, with the other half ashes. Although it matched the oven, it wasn't a good sight. Not a surprising sight either - we can turn hard plastic to liquid and burn inflammable objects. But the pulled power cord frightened me. I did the only thing available to me, which works most of the time; I ignored it. I figured if anyone wanted me to know anything about the oven, they would tell me. The funniest and most ironic part was that I told myself it wasn't so horrible... we still had a microwave. And as I started to think on what I wanted for dinner, everything involved either the oven or the stove.  

Don't think about using the oven.

Ok. PIZZA!

But it all worked out fine. The next morning, it was plugged in and the clock was blinking again. Nobody actually told me about this- they just plugged it in.  We still got our holiday card from the fire station, so I guess all is well. And the reason nobody told me, is that we're using the one method guaranteed to prolong any marriage: one of us sleeps while the other is awake. There is no fighting, no noticing bad habits, and no complaining about snoring.Try it.

Conversations with my Dog 

So we're sitting in our normal positions: me in the chair with my laptop, Penny seatbelting me in, between me and the laptop. Her snoring is weird... it's more like a whine. Eventually she needed to reposition herself and I thought it was a good time to chat.

Me: How are you today - get enough rest?

Dog:  I could always use more.

Me: Say, about your toys....

Dog: Ooh, ooh, are you getting me more?

Me: No,  sorry. You already have more toys than some rich kids. You see, they're always in the way and tend to encroach on areas we sit. It makes it difficult to stand. Why can't you pick them up?

Dog: Because I have you for that.  [snore]

So how's that vacation coming, you're dying to ask....

Well, I'm both glad and sad you asked.

Mrs. lefty's having a bad time of it and she's not around a lot. And when she's not around, neither is Penny. I try not to take it personally that my dog would rather stay with my sleeping wife all day than hang out with me.

So that largely leaves me to my own devices, which is never a good idea, especially if I have certain devices. The entire idea of forced vacation is that I have something to do, some structure. Otherwise I get up to stuff or become a zen-like one with the sofa, mostly the latter. This came to the attention of my friends (both of them), who urged me to 'get out.' Or 'do something.' These well-meaning suggestions are both vague and annoying. If I wanted to go out or do something, I'd already be there doing it. Or something. 

Today I did battle with the washer. I don't hate it as much as mowing, but I definitely don't like it. The other day I vacuumed. I cooked. These are all things one can do with one's time, but they're not exactly vacation-type activities. I can't go on rollercoasters without Wife, and because I'm terrified of them. I was advised to give up knife-throwing after The Incident. The Feds revoked my Blasting for Fun and Profit license, and it's not much fun as a hobby. I have SWAT trained that just because something explodes, they should wait for the 911 call before automatically driving to my house. I promised the judge not to do Funny Tricks with Gasoline for another few months. The doctors said to try something out of my comfort zone. Screw them - comfort zone didn't exist as a concept until recently, and now everybody uses it (like 'game changer'). They said things like going a few counties south and looking at the flowers at the orchard.

WHAT?

I'm sorry, I thought I heard you say to drive an hour and look at flowers.

You DID? I can look out my window and see the neighbors' flowers or go to a flower shop. The thrust of my argument is that I don't like flowers. Or plants. Or most things put into the ground, like dead bodies. If you think about it, flowers and dead bodies go together. What kind of an idiotic suggestion is this? It's not only out of my comfort zone, it's out of my Reality Zone. 

You like to play guitar. Why don't you teach?

Excuse me.... exactly what course of logic gets you from liking to play all the way to teaching would be fun? Trust me... one does not equal the other. I don't like people, remember? Introvert here. Misanthrope Central. I tried this in high school. There was a guitar class, with these hideous guitar-like things, which a piano teacher would teach. I tried to help. It was like trying to use someone else's fingers to tie knots. I am not blessed with the patience to tie a knot with my own fingers, no less somebody else's. So she left me alone and I took 3 years of guitar class. I sat outside the room. They named the hallway after me. So if you ever go to school and see the ThermionicEmissions Honorary Hallway, that's mine. 

I think my last few days will be different. How so, I haven't figured out yet. Since I've largely been indoors, I've been building up a bit of steam. Now would be a good time to attack state congresscritters and find out how the state can go double jeopardy on me and charge me twice for car paperwork. Or how a state sales tax on everything ordered online came into being recently. I'm feelin' a little prickly.

The Great Laptop Debacle of 2022

I suspect (hope) we're in the final run for this, although it will technically bleed into 2023. Bleed is an accurate word. 

The manufacturer got right to work on diagnosing the problem. The long an short of it was that the display and every single piece of plastic on the outside would have to be replaced. Since it was out of warranty, I'd have to pay for it all (of course I would - these things don't happen under warranty). And not to worry, it would only cost half the purchase price of the laptop.

WHAT? 

We could always ship it back to you in a lump if you'd like.

THIS is how I'm going to spend the rest of my vacation, in Prickly Mode. When one considers the life of this particular laptop, one thinks of overprivileged children. Its entire universe consists of a 20' path between the office and the sofa. It has never even left the house. As for the hinges, the lid only moves an inch or two in either direction; I don't even shut the lid.  Replacement of the external plastic parts seems to indicate that someone was playing basketball with the thing. I don't even like basketball, and laptops don't bounce (don't ask). When I emailed the manufacturer, I told them this. Their response was something to the effect of "Thank you for your feedback. We will pass it along." This translates to FSCK YOU in English.

I know that people hang on my every word and make expensive purchases based upon my reviews, so here goes: Do not purchase a System76 laptop. I know, I know... you were dying to buy a laptop that has linux installed on it from the factory, but I'd suggest trying a different brand or getting a Thinkpad, which is very linux-friendly. 

So How's Vacation Weather Been? 

It hasn't.

More accurately, the clouds have gotten smarter. They laid back when I got out of bed, to make me think it was going to be a sunny day. The moment I happily turned my back, the clouds rushed in to successfully cover the sun yet another day. 

Oh, wow.. I nearly had a thought..... the government is seeding the clouds, which is what creates the chemtrails. Why? They want a thick cloud cover, so global won't warm. Brilliant idea, guys. You should probably stick to dosing unsuspecting people then pushing them out of buildings (suicide!).

The last three days of forced vacation were the worst, making for great blog entries.

The 3rd day I sadly realized we'd have to go to CostCo, or it would be 20 times more crowded the next day. I don't like CostCo, in roughly the same way I don't like mowing (or cutting off personal limbs). CostCo is a great concept, which would work perfectly in practice, so long as people who were raised by wolves weren't allowed to shop there. The first obstacle is the parking lot. You won't find a convenient parking spot, but worse is the people trying to park. When I see them mowing down pedestrians, I get the sense it isn't an accident. While there are handicapped spots, they're all taken, except the ones a mile away. If you're lucky enough to find a spot, you must wear bright yellow, reflective clothing. This way the erratic drivers will know where to aim their cars. Oh, wait, so you can have your legal right of way.

Once you get inside, the real fun starts. The main job of a CostCo employee is moving stuff around, so none of the customers will ever know where to find things. In the last month, the Coke has been in 3 different places. You have to walk the entire mile of the store to find it. Fortunately CostCo started putting defibrillators in each aisle, so someone can use them when customers get a look at how much Coke costs. I've paid less to fill my car's tank. If that doesn't get to you, the other customers will. Wife paid careful attention and said it was largely Russian in origin. She was correct. People would leave the carts in the middle of the aisle and take up as much space as they could, looking at products. If you, heaven forbid, had to get past them, you were not even a bump on their consciousness. It's not like they would move or say excuse me.... you simply were beneath their notice. I took to saying "Excuse you." Invariably they'd speak to their Significant Other, in Russian. Don't bitch at me - I only report what I see.

When it's time to check out, you observe the new, wonderful section of remarkably fantastic self-service checkout lanes. So where there used to be 10 cashiers working, there are 6 self-service lanes and 2 cashiers. And a half-mile line to wait for the cashiers, because most of us aren't stupid patient enough to use self-serve. It only takes the first swipe to throw these infernal devices off, requiring more untrained, helpless employee help. Help that could be manning cash registers.

Once past the checkout is their little cafe-thing. You won't believe this, but they have excellent strawberry slushies/smoothies. Wife went to procure a pair and was immediately turned down because she didn't have her membership documents, which were with me in the checkout lane. Let's play along with CostCo a minute: they must get proper documentation to prove that someone snuck past the person who checks your card as you walk in, so that you don't walk up and pay listed price for a slushie? These must be the same people who move the Coke weekly. By the time I got home, Wife had to tranquilize me to make sure I didn't take my revenge on any random person I came across. 

The 2nd day we decided to visit a traditional restaurant (ok,Waffle House) and a sociology experiment called a mart, which was the last place in the state you could smoke indoors. A place where even scruffy old lefty looked like a straight up button down suit, in comparison with everyone else. As it was New Year's Eve, we checked the website to be certain it would be open regular hours, which was verified. As we hit the 4th store, we heard the manager saying he was closing in 5 minutes. WHAT? The whole mart? Yes.  But...but..but... the website... we drove 90 minutes to walk past 4 stores? The webmaster should be ritually disembowled, beheaded, dragged behind a truck, beaten by real mobsters, and shot. 90 minutes later, we were home. Wife had to roofie me so I didn't hurt anybody, including myself.  Her mistake was that she didn't roofie me before we went to the mart, so I wouldn't remember any of it.

On the last day, we visited one of those mills 'discount' malls. Once again, we verified hours of operation. Because last year we also verified hours of operation, drove there, and shopped for 20 minutes before the entire place closed down early. I emailed Mall Manglement, detailing our experience. They said they were sorry. All was well in the kingdom. Somebody's kingdom - certainly not mine.

The final store was some kind of incestuous combination of a Marshalls and a Home Office Depot Goods. The left half of the store was Marhsalls; the right half Home Depot Goods and Stuff. I was mentally out of this store long before we hit the checkout lane, as well as tired and sore. The line turned out to have 25 people in it already. I was not happy. When I say I was not happy, I mean the high-volume sarcasm started, which seemed to either amuse or freak out the 25 people in front of us. Being a systems guy, I immediately searched for the weak link that caused this backup. I checked out the cashiers, but I could only see #12. The trick here was that numbers 1 to 11 didn't exist; they had exactly one cashier. Having only one cashier perfectly explained the 25 people in front of us. You know what happened next, right? The lone cashier had to call for a price check, causing the already near motionless procession to stop completely. We waited and watched. Watched and waited. Sometime within the next 30 minutes, a lady showed up, uttered a few syllables to the cashier, pushed exactly 2 buttons on the register, and walked off. When it was our turn (the next day), I asked the cashier if the lady who pushed the 2 buttons was a manager. She wanted to know how I knew. Because she showed up, performed very little useful work, saw a line of 25 people, and walked away without helping. That screams manager. We complimented the poor cashier on her excellent performance and really positive attitude. Then I asked if all the other cashiers got lost on the way to work. No, they all called out sick for New Year's Day. There were literally two cashiers for the entire store(s). Very large stores - much square footage. I didn't get to speak to the incredibly busy mangler lady, but it is a fact that if you pay a decent wage and hire adults instead of children, they show up for work and do their jobs without requiring adult supervision. I'm not talking about age - just mindset. When we got home, Wife got me really drunk, so I didn't go back to the store and teach the mangler how to properly mangle. Wife is kept really busy being married to me. It's a tough job, but some poor person has to do it. It's probably less strenuous than visiting me in prison.

I don't know about you, but I'm looking forward to going back to work. I just can't take all this vacationing. See you late this year, after I forget to use up my vacation days again.