TomBickle.com - Professional, exciting web design for small and medium-sized businesses in Lodi, Manteca, Stockton and Valley Springs, California.

March 31st, 3:50PM

Digital meditation

I was speaking to a very good friend recently, and we were gently hashing out the finer points of blogging, confidentiality and self-expression. Every blogger (indeed, anyone who talks about anyone else in any medium, including private gossip) has to confront the ratio of truth and detail to secrecy and consideration. This particular subject focused on one party's objection to their mention, which I thought was very general and charitable.

It all comes down to this, for me: blogging is a form of meditation. I have to get these things out of my head more than you need not to read them; it's simply mathematical.

Further - and this was my correspondent's main assertion - it is a passive form of communication, and you must search it out and gather it up with your eyeballs and your concentration. So, between my need to say what's on my mind and your need to remain unoffended, the answer is clear: Go fuck yourself, if you don't like what's in my blog. I mean, barring the betrayal of some covenant like friendship or pillow talk, lies or libel, if you don't like what's being written, don't read it! Simple, no?

Luckily, my buddy is not being shut down by the government, just reviled and ostracized by what he thought were loved ones. So the worst punishment he can fear is the withholding of affection from a few corners. It does my heart good to know that that is the most severe impact one can reasonably fear from speaking one's mind. What a country.

March 31st, 3:33PM

Pépé le Mort

We caught, tried and executed another criminal polecat. Not-coincidentally, we found the trapped skunk on the same morning we found my daughter's only remaining turkey dead of unclear but suspicious causes. It is suspected that the skunk harassed the turkey to death outside his formidable chain link domicile, but didn't directly injure him, as none of the turkey had been consumed. Strange.

Fresh outta turkey

The result is that my daughter won't have a turkey to show this year at the faire. She might have still had one, but the day we brought the turkeys home, she disregarded my wife's advice (rarely the wise choice), and chose the most peaked of the entire flock as her backup turkey. It passed away that night of natural causes, leaving the one, doomed turkey for my daughter to hang her 4-H hat upon. And now this. Bummer.

March 29th, 3:16PM

Ain't that the truth

If the culture is broken, the fastest way to make enemies is to do more than everyone around you.

From Joe Crawford's bloglink to another website, a universal office truth. Like all good stories, the moral is at the end. It's worth a quick read.

March 28th, 3:16PM

Hope springs eternal - drip, drip, drip

So, I scored a new website design client I can get excited about. Great, eh?

I met with a gentleman who knows a lot of things about a lot of things, but little about website in's and out's. Lucky for him and me, I love to work with the uninitiated - it's fun to break heavy-duty lingo down into digestible chunks. Plus, helping to advance someone's technical knowledge on the Information Sewerhighway is a fun process.

Now, I'm off to do a little research, and follow up on some stuff. Yeeha, baby.

March 27th, 9:30AM

Pop culture heroes - John Mellencamp

I saw "Hangin' With:", a musician interview show last week, featuring my teenage music idol, John Mellencamp. I was inspired by some of the things he said, including: "In one man's success, there is hope for us all." He continued on to explain in response to fans' admiration of his songwriting abilities, how anyone can do anything. For example, his songwriting was as weak and pedestrian as anyone else's at his outset, but he kept after it, worked on it, and improved to become a chart-topping musician and songwriter.

Also, he stated the brief-but-hopeful note that "survival is a noble endeavor," or something similar. Simple, but bears repeating.

Anyway, I was encouraged by his optimism. I should go buy his new record.

Lots of other good stuff in the interview; you can catch it again on 3/28 on VH1CL at 10:00am.

March 26th, 8:09AM

Fetish

I have a confessions to make - I have a secret fetish.

I like to organize things. I like things alphabetized, compartmentalized, set in rows, set in columns, filed in any kind of order, so long as there is a rhyme or reason to it.

We watch a lot of crime dramas at my house, and every murder-mystery show has at least one episode where some uptight slayer of mortals has an immaculate home, with all his socks in the sock drawer laid out like museum pieces, his books lined up so as to embarrass any librarian. Into the scene walks the police psychiatrist, coolly pontificating about how the owner of this life-sized, spreadsheet of a domicile has a psychopathic need for order and control, and that it stems from... I dunno, I lose focus after that, because I am so jealously coveting the maniac's walk-in closet. I want so badly for it to be mine. I hiss to myself and rock back and forth in my seat, wishing I could have that office, that bathroom countertop.

Now, those of you who have seen how I live can scarcely believe this pack of lies - the place looks like a post-tornado crackhouse much of the time. I know this. All I can say is that I often want things I don't get, especially from myself. Cleanliness and order are things I desire, but survive without. Be that as it may, if left to my own devices and with time indefinite, I would eventually organize, pigeonhole, categorize and systematize everything in my vicinity.

The satisfaction from having things to be found where they belong is a transcendent joy, akin to the safety in your mother's arms. The maintaining of order among my own little kingdom is a hobby unto itself, and is rewarding almost beyond description. And terrible woe be unto the wretched soul who kicks thru my sand castle and takes a tool from the garage toolbox and leaves it laying, helpless and forlorn in a careless, random position simply due to haste or convenience. Oh, how I plot your torture, sloppy interloper! I dream of feeding you nothing but chunky, generic peanut butter in a room just big enough for you and a ten-thousand-drawer filing cabinet, each drawer containing only more peanut butter, except a single drawer holding a pint of cold, whole milk, the only useful tool in freeing the masticative gears that have been so cruelly sabotaged.

I really should get more sleep. That, or go arrange my sock drawer. See you on TV!

March 25th, 8:52AM

Doing well

My wife had her gastric bypass surgery Friday night, and is recovering well. Thanks to everybody who cared!

March 18th, 7:04AM

Hybrid hopes

CNN carries a story about hybrid automotive technologies and how they're being backed and promoted. No one is taking any chances on these technologies until they see some money in it, naturally. Looks like there are forces afoot to make these ideas come to life, and make a few bucks, too. Good for them. The oil-hungry corporations that are sitting pretty now aren't going to just give it up without fight, but the better mousetrap always has a fighter's chance.

March 18th, 7:04AM

Can't... stop... pooping!

Friday night I became listless and lethargic, and it wasn't in celebration of the following day's Saint Patrick's Day festivities. I had come down with my son's LiquiGut virus. At first I thought it was a bout of malnutrition due to the fifth day of a stringent diet, but by Friday evening I was hitting the head every hour or so, and that ain't on the menu, bub. Igot up Saturday just long enough to go back to bed.

Chickens - to the battlements!

Around noon, I felt well enough to pitch in on this damned Chicken Fortress we're putting together out back, and although it's nearly finished, it still seems like it's never going to get done. Meanwhile, we have over 60 birds milling about in the garage, starting to beat each other up, and the place smells like a third world outhouse.We need to vacate the premises of these fowl before I do something drastic and poorly-thought out.

Weight to go

I weighed 200.5 this morning, just like yesterday. That's down about 8 pounds overall from last week. I have stuck to this diet with some amount of loyalty, but have done absoultely no dedicated exercise. True, I have spent several hours digging and lugging heavy crap for the chicken pen, but not much more.

So far, so good. I'd like to get to around 190, but I don't expect that to happen in the next two weeks. Someday would be nice.

New MySpace profile

As I noted in my Liberated Pachyderm Productions MySpace bulletin, I have created a new MySpace profile to house my odder, more personal nonsense, so as to keep it separate from my original profile, ostensibly created to log and further my business concerns.

I think I'm funny

The good news is that I can finally do what I've been itching to do with all those wannabe pornstar Friend Requests I receive - accept them and harass the sender!

Case in point: when the latest hottie invited me to join her circle of buds, I accepted and went immediately to her photos page. I stepped over all the drooling, "Damn, girl, I'd like to sniff your panties" comments, and left my own, the least sexy message I could think of:

"Hey, I don't know if you realize this, but uh, your ass is hangin' out there. Just thought you'd like to know..."

I fully intend to do that with all of the unsolicited Friend Requests I get - clown on the ho's. Also, some joker left his phone number on her Comments area for all the world to see ("Let's hang out - call me..."). If nobody punks this guy with a crank call, the world isn't a fair place.

March 16th, 7:38PM

Hurry up and weight

It's not been easy, but we've been (generally) faithful to our diets. I admit that yesterday, I slipped and snuck forbidden fruit, in the form of a glass of wine and a bag of popcorn. Shame one me, but I was at the edge of my sanity. My wife, however, has been more reliable in her efforts. Still, I'm down to 201 pounds this morning, which makes me very happy.

Yesterday was nearly unbearable, though. I am amazed that we all got through it with no one being beaten into a quivering pulp. Not only are both me and my wife on edge, but my son has turned barfing into an Olympic sport, and can't keep anything down, so every hour or two, it's time to take little Linda Blair and out hose him off. After the sun goes down, nothing changes except that we add bedding to the list of swapped fabrics. It reminded me of Brian's infancy, where we'd alternate sorties into his bedroom. I've learned one thing: I'm not big on nostalgia.

Happy camper

Spring is upon us, weather is absolutely gorgeous, and nighttime lows are above 40 degrees. Time to play outside!

I took my aging American Camper, two-man (yeah, right, two gay men, who are really into cuddling, maybe) tent into the front yard for a trial run. It still performed well, considering all it had to do was stand there. Still, it kept the cats from sexually molesting the portion of my face that stuck necessarily out of my cheap, Target sleeping bag, and no mosquitoes defiled my little button nose either. Thank God, I was really worried about the cat thing.

Time now to stop fooling around, and find a suitable place for the year's first outing. I can, I will, I must!

March 13th, 3:39PM

Live and let liver, part II

It's been one day for me, and two for my wife. We are both adhering well to our diet, with the rare, odd minor departure. For example, I am taking a quiet moment to indulge in a single glass of wine, but other than that, recent days' nutrition included only:

... all the while ensuring to consume 68 - 100 ounces of water throughout the day or more.And that's it!

My wife has been paradoxically more disciplined and more miserable than I have. I desire intensely to site and eat, to munch, to nosh, to nibble, to ... well, you get the idea. But my desire is largely the product of boredom and habit. I'm not terribly hungry but I am very used to eating, well and often. Luckily, a smidge of self-denial is enough to carry me through such a simple deviation from protocol. I don't think I'd be able to resist real hunger for long.

The good news is that I've registered 204.5 this morning on the scale, while 208.5 has been the norm. This might work out after all...

Roseanne Barr is an empty-headed jackass

I've never taken well to Roseanne Barr.

I remember well her debut on television stand-up; she had some funny material, but as many comedians must, she peddled the same material to audience after audience. While usually necessarily forgivable, it seemed that Roseanne carried the same bag of jokes with her for a while too long, and I soon knew each joke as well as she did. Only the outfits changed. There comes a point where comedians must begin writing new stuff and lovingly pack away the old, even with the grateful knowledge that it had catapulted them to their rookie year of fame. If not, you're a one-hit wonder, and quickly become an entertainment footnote. Roseanne's material wore deep, rusty grooves in my brain, and it wasn't too long before I couldn't stand the sight of her onstage, just as a conditioned response.

Then came her sitcom. It was a pleasant mix of homey and edgy, and I liked that. The cast was largely appealing. I continued to enjoy it right up to the season where she had her big lesbian kiss - I've got nothing against lesbians, I just recall that point as being the relative spot where the show took a big, tanking nosedive, and never recovered. Dan was thrown off the show (or wisely abandoned the shit-hauling garbage scow), and things stopped being funny.

Anyhoo, I've had the opportunity to see Roseanne on two different talk shows this week: "Sit Down Comedy with David Steinberg," and "Real Time with Bill Maher." On both shows, Roseanne has reinvigorated my perception of her as a screechily mumbling ape, but her appearance on "Real Time" really planted the flag on the dumbest moon of the Planet Stupid. There came a time when she was arguing with nationally-known political, journalistic and spiritual experts, and all she could do was verbally defecate the same tired, illiterate quackery about forged documents and an illegal war. It quickly began to resemble a dog angrily barking at Stephen Hawking.

I keep waiting for her to start making some kind of sense, like I've been on the outside of some really cool, insidiously clever, decades-long performance piece, where I realize she is far more ingenious than I could even perceive, much less appreciate. I don't think that moment is queued up, to be honest with you. I think I'll just get used to the sound of barking dogs and tolerantly patient professionals. So be it.

March 12th, 6:53AM

Live and let liver

My wife is well on her way to having a procedure done to address her weight, which she has been dissatisfied with. In advance of that, she has jumped through many of the requisite hoops, including a brief psychological counseling session, a seminar and a class on what comes after. Another hoop is a pre-surgery diet, which will serve to shrink her liver (!), so that the minimally invasive something-scopic tools can noodle around inside her and do their work without being stymied by a fat, groaning liver to block the way. If her liver is so great that the tools can't do their snakelike contortions, then it's time for your gut to open wide and say "ahhh," as the docs will go the more-invasive route, and split her open proper to do the job.

After one day of her scathingly meager nutritional regimen, I am proud of my wife for her discipline and sympathetic for her misery. She is now set to exist on basically a diet of a glass of milk and half an apple a few times a day for the next two weeks, and folks, it just ain't easy. But she's doing it. This chick is tough.

Today I will extend my sympathy to sharing her diet, just to see how much pain I can take. I doubt I can hack it, but we'll find out together.

Celtic Faire

Oh, what can I tell you about the Celtic Faire? My bro took me Saturday, we had a great time, I bought a weapon. I took in some shows and enough Scotch whisky to euthanise a young elephant, and I was lucky to make it out alive. I remember well the red-haired Lord Rusty, the kilted accordian-player who altered for the better what sexy means, and the fox-tailed lass whose name I can't recall but whom we saw last year and now this year. As soon as we can remember it, we'll be on a first-name basis.

I worked on me Scottish brogue, which got better and more confident as the drink flowed. I spoke to a nice young lady named Tamara, and was re-instructed by the experience that geeks can be cool, too - there is hope for me yet! I saw a male belly dancer and was scarred by the experience. I'll never be the same, and I'm not sure whether I'm glad I didn't get photos or not. I think it's for the better.

I've got pix and some video, including me in the get-up that my wife put together (I love her, you know). Soon, they'll be ready to share. Soon.

March 9th, 7:07AM

Considering alternatives

I've been thinking lately about the way that my business sites, both TomBickle.com & LiberatedPachyderm.com, represent me and serve the general purposes I have in mind for them. I consider transitioning TomBickle.com to a purely personal site, and moving website work to Liberated Pachyderm. I probably won't though. For one thing, I probably couldn't write off the paltry hosting fees.

Tom's off his meds

Don't look so surprised.

I have taken Lexapro 10mg for three months now, and results are good overall. Side effects included pretty scary warnings about suicide, etc. I have to tell you that I haven't thought about killing myself even once in the last three months (or ever), even though it's been an eventful quarter. Plus, my attitude/outlook/mood has improved and I have maintained said improvement the entire time. Something of a miracle, given my obsessive hand-wringing over the last few years.

Skeptic's Corner

On the other hand, I must admit that I felt better the instant I decided to take the proactive step of just pursuing a pharmaceutical solution to the persistent, soul-sucking snit I had been in. I don't know if it was the meds or just the willingness to try one more avenue for improvement. Given the fact that it takes days or weeks for the medications to approach a useful level, it's entirely possible that just a chance at a fix cheered me up. Implausible, but not impossible.

Chicken pen

The pig pen we slogged together recently was so much fun (cough) to construct, we decided to build a chicken pen - only this time with more concrete! It sucks, and today was only a marginal step forward. The first few days' construction were a bit of a lark, but my back is sick of the labor, and I am losing my sense of humor and novelty on the whole damned thing. I wish it was done.

Mark your calendar

I won an argument yesterday with my wife. I know, I can't believe it, either, but when one person stops to figure out how to get their assertions back on track, but never starts again, that's pretty much a dead giveaway that you hit the wall. Usually it's me with the dissertational vaporlock, but yesterday, it was my wife. Usually she wins, even when she's wrong and/or full of shit. Yesterday, she was both, and I managed to make my point and get out, without gloating or being a dick. It doesn't happen often, but it can happen.

Today, we argued about something and harsh words were flicked about like an assassin's daggers. Luckily, neither of us seem comfortable plotting the other's painful demise for long, and we were both much happier when we made up a few hours later. Still, it was a tough day, all in all. I hate to fight with my wife.

March 3rd, 6:07AM

I got the new car, but not a Fusion

I took my mercurial needs to the Ford dealer in Tracy, found a salesman who is just as likeable, helpful and befuddled as I am, and bought a new Ford Mustang from him. Lamont is new there, providing for several humbling moments, but in the end, my wife and I both decided "we want to do business with this guy." So we did. It helped that we were treated as pieces of meat at a Jackson dealership, bumping 'customer service' to the top of our list of appreciable features of the experience.

Features and price lined up very similarly vis-a-vis the Fusion. Mustang pluses include a better stereo and ... that's about it. Minuses included a smaller back seat.

One nice feature: my wife likes it. It is kinda sexy, and it is the un-Honda. My wife never took a shine to the Hybrid like I did, and I find it inexplicably comforting that she likes my car.

They hatin'

My wife still loves me. That may sound dull to all of you who are accustomed to taking things for granted (we know who we are), but she still does. I am both thrilled and unsurprised. I never doubted her for a moment, which is substantially different than taking her for granted, I assure you.

Several personalities on the periphery were quick to speculate on and encourage my wife's purported newfound grounds to reevaluate her choice in life partners. John Lee Hooker called them "Backbiters and Syndicators." Fuck you dicks, I say, and I know who you are. This group possesses a long and sketchy history littered with the dregs of humanity and broken promises, leaving them feeling entitled to spread bitterness and discontent like an interrelational virus. Well up yours, you sad and embittered lot - I'm happy to report that we've been inoculated against your disease.

Celtic Faire update

The Calaveras Celtic Faire has updated their website for the event, which takes place next week in Angel's Camp. I am glad to see their site polished some - it was looking a bit high-schoolish, even for my tastes. Much better, now. I am still on track to attend, and I intend to make the most of it!