August 31st, 10:12AM
DSL = Dysfunctional Service Loss
My DSL provider took unexpected pity on my working-for-the-moment connection and dropped by the house yesterday. He hooked up his laptop, climbed on the roof, repointed the receiving dish, and pronounced a more reliable connection in my future. He expressed an urgent need to pick up his kids and ran to his car, speeding off into the sunset. I plugged backed in the single Ethernet cable he had displaced and found that he left behind a totally butt-humped and utterly worthless "connection." That was yesterday. He promised to look into it, and call me back this afternoon.
This blog entry made possible by a $5 dialup connection from CWnet.com
August 30th, 3:04PM
Liberated Pachyderm Productions
I have hosted and launched the website for Liberated Pachyderm Productions, a new business service offering Virtual Tours for Realtors and other clients in the Calaveras, San Joaquin counties.
I have a few additions to make before I am comfortably close to my ideal presentation, but for now it is up, and beaming proudly at the search engines whom will spider and search it.
Someday, digital video will be an offering too, but it will have to wait until its presentation can be refined enough to match a high enough standard that I can offer it confidently. For now, Virtual Tours are the bread and butter, so let's eat!
If Canada sent us more illegal immigrants, this wouldn't be an issue
The "plumbers" (who have swung a helluva lot more shovels than wrenches on my pool project so far, throwing into serious doubt their distinction from landscapers) are nearly done ruining my lawn and surrounding shrubs. Before they were done, they had questions for me. Questions in three-word, timidly uncertain English "sentences."
Apparently, the gentleman felt it necessary to hack their way through every single plant between them and the electrical panel, along the shortest/easiest route mathematically possible. He expressed this need by declaring "tree," pointing to a flowery and expensive bush, and jerking his thumb skyward, the international sign for "[item] the fuck out."
I queried him in Spanish of equal quality but superior clarity. I pointed to (what was clearly a bush, but I applaud him for coming so close with tree) the tree, and drawing my thumb across my throat, making a "kckckck" noise, with a questioning look on my face. He nodded, and communication occurred.
I called my wife to see if she minded if we made Jorge's life simple by the slaughter of any and all vegetation within his sphere of influence. My wife's response, and I'm paraphrasing here: "Hell no."
By this time, I dug deep into the moderately manageable maelstrom of materials that is my garage, and produced a Spanish textbook I had years before rescued from the bargain bin at Delta Community College. I said to Juan: "Los muertos de las plantas es muy mal." He said "kckck yes?" I said vehemently: "kckck No!"
Now, I don't fault Carlos for not speaking English, necessarily. He made a game effort of it, and you have to respect that. No, you have to give Jaime credit - his English was as good as my Spanish was, and although we're not in Mexico and he's not paying me to lay pipe for him, I'm willing to concede some level of respect. I am however disappointed that not one hombre on the crew (all two of them) could speak English well enough to communicate with me about this expensive and potentially-ruinous-to-my-property project. It just irritates me.
If these guys were French, French-Canadian or possibly Hatian, etc., I could have faked my way through it much more easily. Why couldn't the Canadian border be the one through which refugees pour so that they can come here to dig holes?
Oh well, I chose the language that attracted me in high school, college and in my free time, not the utilitarian (read: intelligent) choice. I almost feel like I deserved that difficulty of the situation.
Nahh. On second thought, I don't think so.
August 29th, 9:19AM
Back in Slack
Long weekend here. My wife and I spent too much money and too little time, trying to find our groove in a relaxing environment. We stayed at the Sonoma Cost Villa & Spa in Bodega, CA. Upon our return, my wife discovered the paltry surprise party I'd tried to arrange. We were light on decorations, but long on friends and fun, so it was a success. Monday morning found a serious mess, but I got it all cleaned up by the end of the day.
Books of the day
My wife & I stopped at the Stockton Borders both on the way out and back from Bodega. We scored "Bohemian Manifesto," and several books about tattoos. Somebody is thinking about an ambitious tattoo project in the future.
Other stuff of note
I find myself with a wedding ring returned to my stubby digit, after having lost it, what, over a year ago? Wow.
August 24th, 4:03PM
MySpace nonsense
I recently noted that the Mighty Joe Silva has a MySpace site and blog, but I neglected to link to it. This is now rectified.
I have posted my own image, but the MySpace world rejects me with its non-intuitiveness. I find doing anything there difficult and tedious. I cannot resolve that difficulty with the fact that the emptiest heads on the planet have managed to trick out their MySpace sites like Willy Wonka's calliope, while I sit in the corner and gnash my teeth and curse my computer science degree. Shit.
My Dad has resurrected his blog, owing in no small part to my recently needling him about it. Good for him. I am changing the world, one blog at a time.
Now, if I could just get Greg on board. Layabout.
August 21st, 4:08PM
I'm high, but it's okay, because it's legal
I'm wired for sound at just this moment, hopped up on Xenadrine, a "dietary supplement," and "rapid fat loss catalyst."
Don't kid yourself, it's speed, just like meth, only a little less battery acid and a lot less ephedrine. If my wife would let me smoke pot, this would have been a whole different post, but them's the breaks. But the cold hard fact is that I cannot be trusted not to gorge like a pig at a trough at any time past 1pm. Strangely, my metabolism is hanging in there, and I have not wavered from my new equilibrium at 200 pounds. But my eating habits are getting worse instead of better, and Daddy needs some kind of intervention. This is such an intervention. Let's hear it for taking the easy way out.
The Mighty Joe Silva
My good friend Joe has put himself together a MySpace site, with a single-post blog, and everything. He's cool. My Dad useta blog, but that withered. It ain't for everybody. Ah well.
This weekend
We're heading to a swank joint in Bodega for a badly needed respite, and to celebrate the delicious and miraculous event of my wife's birth. It's expensive, so it must be nice. We'll see about that.
August 19th, 3:34PM
Fiddling about
My wife is paying dues today, paying in time what she wishes she'd paid in dollars for a minor traffic transgression. I have the kids and am meandering my way through the day, starting much, finishing little, and hoping that the net improvement is appreciated, however imperfect.
I put in a little step under an outside gate, basically a horizontally lain fenceboard behind two pieces of rebar. The idea is to keep a trafficked area from eroding like the rest of the place. I thought about moving more rocks for our ditch (or as the Realtor called it, a "seasonal creek." Hah.), but the trench dug by our pool excavators transverses the only path through which I can bring rocks in with the 'quad. Oh well...
One other note: the crew who laid the rebar yesterday rolled down our driveway yesterday with their flatbed work truck, without first stopping to check the lay of the land. As was obvious to any thinking person, they were unable to get out on their own, and had to call a tow truck to winch them out. I took little satisfaction in the fact that at least someone else had to suck the pipe for a change regarding this whole adventure; not to say I took no satisfaction at all, just not a lot.
August 18th, 7:16AM
Poolwatch 2006: The hole is dug
The excavation crew finished about 1:30 PM yesterday, and costs were capped at a painful, yet finite point.
Today, the rebar crew was in place early, although I am concerned that they entered via the steeper end of the lot, and will have a devil of a time getting out. I assume this is their problem, but others' problems have been finding ways to backsplash onto me lately.
Valley Springs PC Users Group - Wanted: one leader
The Valley Springs PC Users Group was fortunate to have David Diskin of Applied Office present Windows Vista and Microsoft Office last night. David was knowledgeable and personable, and we all enjoyed the meeting.
It's been a year since I took over the thing, and I'm running outta gas. Membership has dwindled, and without even meager interest from local computer-related entities regarding presenting, I've had to do all of the presentations myself. I don't mind, but ideas are becoming more scarce, and it's just not what I had in mind to do. I had hoped local businesses would have been more enthusiastic and community-minded, but I have been disappointed.
I'll be turning the Group loose this month. No one in the Group wants to take it over, so I guess it'll just fold.
August 16th, 6:18PM
More rock than Stonehenge and AC/DC put together
The day started off well enough: my wife stayed home to eyeball the placement of our impending pool-oriented shangri-la. I enjoyed her company and things were going pretty darn well. Come the end of the day though, all was not well in Paradise.
It seems that the pool diggers were astounded that our lot is full of rocks (if they were regular readers of this blog, they woulda been better informed). My pool-company contact said it would cost $2,000 to have them return tomorrow, which whitened a few faces around the dinner table. Even worse, a different pool contact said that due to poor communication, additional fees would be in play, and they'd do their hearty best to keep it under two grand, but nobody's making any promises. So apparently, we're on the hook for a blank check while Hootie and the Rockfish putter around the town of Bedrock on my dime. I don't know how I get stuck footing an indefinite bill, but it chafes, bubba. This project was working on borrowed funds from the get-go. My jaw clenches a lot lately, for some reason.
August 15th, 6:21AM
No longer a Factor
I finally made the decision to stop watching "The O'Reilly Factor," a Fox News program built largely around the viewpoint of Bill O'Reilly.
It's been a long time coming, but I knew it would come to this. Maybe the prominence of any single person's viewpoint is doomed to become stale, but his big sounding board, the "Talking Points Memo," rarely has a lot of fire left in it, and has been repetitive for a long time. It's tiresome.
The last several months of 2005 were tediously steeped in an alleged war on Christmas, a crusade that unnecessarily bemoaned an all-out assault on Jesus, Rudolph and those shiny little balls that hang on Christmas trees. It didn't resonate with me, and it got so I didn't even have enough interest in the show to fast-forward this anti-Santa drudgery on a digitally-recorded episode to get to the next topic. And when I did, it was like the video version of "Where's Waldo?" Just turn the page, and there it is again!
As dully familiar as the cult of Bill's personality can be, it's even worse when he's not there, which has become more common recently. I can't help thinking that he is deathly afraid of a substitute stealing the show while he's sipping MaiTais in the Caribbean, so he stacks the deck with some of the least entertaining personalities Fox can scare up. I mean, John Kasich?! He seems like a really nice guy, good to his wife, kids and dog, and I respect him for that, but he also seems like a guy who says: "White bread with whole milk?! Too spicy for me, fella!" He's just so damned bland! Ech. John Gibson has been known to rouse a little rabble once in a while, and I suspect that's why you don't see him hosting anymore. When he did, though, Bill even threw him a bone and let him have an opinion, allowing him to do a guest "T-Points Memo," something unheard of with other fill-ins.
The show isn't all bad, which is why I've watched for years. Bill sees himself as a crusader, righting wrongs and doing good when he can. You have to admire that, even when you think the crusade takes some curious turns now and then. Overall, he seems genuine, and I appreciate that.
While I'm getting things off my chest, let me dump this other baggage: Bill doesn't always follow his own rules. One example: he regularly dismisses complaints about cutting off guests by claiming that technology is to blame; that he simply has no choice and that time constraints ruthlessly dictate when a segment must end. On the other hand, I have seen on several occasions where Bill will be up to his elbows in a particularly sticky or delicious topic, the Factor music will fade in, and he'll shout: "Wait, wait, stop the music!!" and push on, to settle the matter in a seemingly extended segment. Technology took a back seat on these particular days, why not others?
There are also times when Bill has raged, barked at and berated little old ladies who simply held a different viewpoint from his, but got a little too close to winning an argument. Although Bill sees himself as a tough-but-nice guy, he can't seem to help himself, and can often be seen pounding unassuming guests into mush when a civilized debate is called for.
One last thing: it is terribly annoying that Bill uses his e-mail correspondence to prove what a middle-of-the-road sweetheart he is. He'll haul out two separate e-mails from two separate, Martini-pounding, ideological loons from different sides of the same fence, and use them to illustrate how he just can't get a break for being the straight shooter he is. "You gave Guest XYZ a pass, Bill, you left-leaning jerk!" comes the exclamation from e-mailer Boner G. Grabass, from Mint Julip, Kentucky. "You were too tough on Guest XYZ, you right-wing Nazi!!" scolds P. Tooli Oil, from Berkeley, California. Bill invariably throws up his hands in a wistful gesture that says: "What is a boy to do...?" and shakes his head as he points out that they both watched the same interview. Tisk, tisk, tisk. After seventy-eight or so of these e-mails, I just can't be stunned anymore.
The O'Reilly Factor isn't all bad, as I said. I'm only dumping all these perceived faults here because they have built up over time, and burst forth in a rant as many of my pent-up assertions do. I'm sure Bill will do fine without me.
August 9th, 3:50PM
Robin Williams is in rehab
Sorry to hear that, I hope he's better soon. I am a big fan, especially of his stand-up comedy; his work in the seventies and eighties are largely what brought me to love comedy, and as well as to value humor as a skill, a social defense mechanism, and one of the great joys of life. Rock on, Robin.
August 9th, 7:22AM
The joys of parenthood
My daughter and I had a nice, protracted conflict yesterday, involving the performance of household chores and the honest tally of just which tasks have been done, and which have not. Honesty and maturity were watchwords for this event, and both of those ideals were wantonly abandoned.
Apparently, the idea is to do as little as humanly possible without being discovered, and thereby recouping more time for oneself. It’s a losing game though, or at least, I aim to make it that way.
For one thing, it’s like all the time you’re supposed to save by using a microwave instead of a conventional oven: Sure, it’s faster, but you rarely-if-ever actually get that time back. It’s not like tax season, when at the end of a term, someone hands you a check or a wad of Saved Time that you can redeem for your leisure activities.
For another thing, since I have now discovered (yet again, and for certain) that a) my little list of tasks still haven’t been getting done, although we’ve been ‘round this bend several times now, with clarity and communication for all, and b) when I ask about it, my face is lied to without shame or regard for me as a person, I am determined to pack on additional chores, to negate any and all progress this venture may have produced. Anyone who has been to my house lately knows for certain that there’s plenty to do.
And as for the other kid…
Our garbage disposal quit several days ago, frightening the little part of me that wishes he was more handy around the house. I finally scraped enough gunk out of the top end of the thing to see the cause. A bright, shiny quarter is jammed in between a spinning tooth and the cap of the device, rendering all movement either impossible, or damaging to the unit itself. And the grinding noise that accompanies said damaging movement is quite unnerving as well.
This has to do with my son, because he has taken new joy in flinging things, little things like quarters, over the counter-top and into parts unknown beyond the Great Formica Barrier. It seems that he scored himself a two-pointer in his volleys into the great beyond. Hey, lucky us. “Wheee!” he exclaims, whipping plastic men and women, Lego knockoffs, and apparently loose change.
“Wheeee!” I long to exclaim, as I clap him on the back of his skull, the next time I catch him doing it. I probably won’t do it, but I easily picture myself doing it.
August 7th, 7:24AM
Lurch
Wow. I am amazed at myself, and the reasons for that aren't all good.
It's been over a week since I blogged a thing. I feel like I'm behind on overdue bills (there's a familiar feeling) or homework. This isn't how it's supposed to be. More and more, I look around, and say: "this isn't how it's supposed to be."
I'm so far off-track, it'll be easier to start my own railroad than find my way back.
Pool-ready
My wife, I, Mackenzie and Ken got together and ruined a perfectly nice weekend working like paranoid immigrants, civilizing our backyard to include dirt roads, two new fencepost holes, and a nice flat spot for a swimmin' pool. It sucked, and I'm glad it's over.
There's more to blog, but the day is leaving without me. I'd better update my links in the right column and upload this clanking mess. I resolved a few days ago to blog every day, and this is the closest I could do to honoring this promise made to myself. I'll keep trying.