I'm going caroling at the pool, dressing up and going trick-or-treating for Labor Day and baking pumpkin pie in April. From the people who bring you Back to School sales in June - this is worse.
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Friday, July 31, 2009
All holidays! All the time!
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Bugs in new iPhone OS 3
Landscape keyboard! Cut & paste! More new APIs than you can shake a developer at! Everybody's all hot and bothered over the iPhone OS 3.0 release - but what about the numerous bugs?.
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Sunday, May 17, 2009
Thought for the day: God is a woman
I know I'm going to get myself into trouble by saying this out loud, but here goes:
Walking through the subway today, as I do almost every day, I was subjected to, as I am almost every day, the perhaps clichéd sidewalk preachers and signpost-wearers, warning of eminent doom, and that I must repent and follow God if I was to be saved eternal torment.
This one in particular, fairly new to this particular tube connecting the bus terminal with Times Square, wearing his "Fear God" hoodie and carrying his small, hand-lettered sign (but don't they all?), was again going on about the coming appocalypse (apparently the almighty has a timetable for withdrawal...). He says that Jesus is going to send all of us to eternal torment for not loving him. This got me thinking.
First, I never went to sunday school, but I'm pretty sure it's not Jesus who's going to be handing out the damnation red cards in the final days. (Please feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.) Everything I've read or heard about Jesus suggests he was a pretty forgiving and accomodating guy. If he can forgive the people publicly flogging him, I think he'd be willing to overlook the occasional lustful thought about my neighbor's wife.
It seems to me that the spirit of those sermons wasn't, "follow me explicitiy or I'll see to it you're tormented for eternity," so much as most of us are heading for a bad place, so grab your personal ethical floatation device so you don't end up there. Not, "follow me or I'll damn you," but "I'll help you if you do." A subtle difference, yes, but an important one.
Then I started to wonder who it was (deific or otherwise) that would choose to see you tortured for all eternity for not loving them completely? My mind went back to some relationships I've had.
And that's all I'm going to say about that.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
The Swine Flu (When Pigs Fly)
Now I'm ready to add my voice to the din. Now that I have a few minutes, that my wife has distracted the kid.
My chiropractor and I have the same opinion - our family is not going to get debilitated by swine flu. We disagree, however, on why.
See, I've based my opinion on science - empirical data and statistical history. He's based his on near-psychotic delusions.
I'm writing this having spent the day home with my kid, who's been hacking for the past 3 days and whose temperature has broken the point where his daycare would call us to take him home.
According to our "doctor," this means everything is as it should be.
He's not wrong in theory, he's wrong in practice.
What my son is exhibiting is a "normal" reaction to a foreign body. Most of us call this "sick." I do not consider this a "normal" state.
In our discussion this morning, he reitterated his lack of belief in "germ theory." (you can hear the quotes when he says it.) See, bacteria and viruses don't make people ill... sorry, "symptomatic." He feels you don't catch colds from viruses, because viruses are all around us - you come into contact with them all the time. (this is his assertion, and I'm sure there's some study somewhere, likely done by other chiropractors, that would validate this claim.) You get them, he says, when your imune system is compromised - when your spine is out of alignment.
When he reitterates, yet again, that a healthy imune system fights illness, I ask, isn't it better to not get infected in the first place?
I used the analogy of a trained fighter. You could be a 10th-degree blackbelt, and, if you ever found yourself in an altercation, it would likely save your life. I know just enough self defense tricks that it could possibly, maybe, save my life - if I were ever in need of it. I'm still standing today, not because of fighting skills, but because I don't get into those kinds of altercations.
This is when the "doctor" goes into psychotic denial mode.
"But you're going to get it anyway," he says. Except for the fact that I rarely (pre-kid, anyway) get sick. Arguably it's because I have a healthy imune system. I also wash my hands and don't suck on used kleenex.
"You're arguing that I'm OK because I have air bags, I'm saying I'd rather not get into an accident."
He mocked our teaching our son to cough into his elbow. This is a man who doesn't wash his hands after taking a dump in the office. He then procedes to touch people around the face and neck.
Make no mistake, the only reason my family goes to him is because my wife works for him. No one is twisting my arm to get me to go to a chiropractor - I will probably continue to go regularly, to someone else, after my wife finds her new job. I do find it beneficial. I also continue to take naproxen and ibuprofin for my tendonitis.
Tomorrow we're steam-cleaning my son's plush toys. Most of the victims of bubonic plague didn't believe in germ theory, either.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Why I like Woot
yeah, cool stuff at great discounts is nice, but the fact that someone actually goes through the effort to write this stuff - daily - keeps my attention.
(Note: if you're unfamiliar with woot.com, if you visit the site after today, the deal mentioned below will have changed.)
(Note: if you're unfamiliar with woot.com, if you visit the site after today, the deal mentioned below will have changed.)
I love naught in life so well as my Mattel handheld football game, a wonder more thrilling even than the heaving teats of Gerðr. But it eats batteries the way vitterfolk devour goatling flesh.
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Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Insert tab A into slot B
Well, I guess it's time for what's getting to be my monthly posting about trips to Wisconsin - or as I like to call it, Chez Cheese. I know, I know, I haven't posted in two months. I actually wrote this one last month, but I never got around to finishing it. I didn't have anything to say about the month before because, frankly, it was uneventful (well, from a travel standpoint, anyway).
I did have the multiple gate-change, 4-hour layover fiasco in Chicago's O'Hare. (I was going to call the post, "O'Harried" or "O'Harrowing." Perhaps fortunately the post never happened.) While I was walking to my gate at one end of the terminal - the end of the terminal - they changed my gate to one in a completely different terminal. Let me say it again - changed while I was walking there. I lugged my 40 lb. shoulder bag (because who needs wheels?) and my backpack with laptop and accouterments (is that were luggage comes from, or is it the other way?) around the football stadium that is O'Hare for 4 hours. I had time to kill, and what was I supposed to do, buy a book and sit and read it?
They changed my gate 3 more times while I waited. Others told me that it was par for "No'Fare." So, while arduous, I didn't feel it particularly interesting enough to write about. Except that, well, I just did.
I knew what my topic was going to be last month, however, very soon after I landed. There is the unsung villain, perhaps villainous sidekick, rather, to air travel - car rental.
First off, there is the possibly illegal, though certainly unethical practice of tricking you into an upgrade. You reserve a small to midsize car, and when you show up to collect your reservation they say, "I have a monster SUV, or a fancy, high-end sport sedan available...?" Oh, they have plenty of smaller cars, too. But they're making you say, "OK" to the bigger car by presenting them, and only them, as options, usually without telling you they'll cost more.
Last month I switched to Avis from Enterprise, because I didn't like the later's practice of being a mere $10 cheaper, but offering a car so stripped down I was lucky to have automatic windows. (Does anyone have manual, roll-down windows anymore? But then what motion do you use when you want to talk to the person in the car next to you?) They (Enterprise) told me that for a "modest upgrade" I could get things like a stereo radio, cruise control (essential to keeping to the speed limit in a foreign state) and a key fob, so I don't have to fumble with gloves on in the snow and rain to get a key in and unlock one door then reach over and manually unlock the others to let in my passengers who're still standing outside. You know, the stuff we never had when we were kids. I know the corporate bean counters back home would balk at the word "upgrade" on my receipt, so I opted for the one who gave you all that stuff in the base rate.
If only they would give you the base rate. Booking the car through my corporate travel site, there's a price quoted for a midsize sedan of $48/day. Last month, when I got to the counter, the helpful woman at the counter said, "I have a Saturn Vue...?" Knowing as much about cars as I do economic foreign policy, I say, "m'OK," and am surprised to see a sporty little SUV waiting for me. And here I am thinking, wow, how nice of Avis to have such nice cars - worth the extra $10. There was some monster snow that weekend, so it turned out to be fortuitous.
So this time at the counter I'm told, "I have a [some brand I forget], which is a midsize SUV." Then, as I pause for a moment to consider what could be "midsize" for a monster truck that's far too huge for most people to get around in, and how it still qualifies as one, "it's $89 on your corporate rate." It's late at night and I'm tired, so my mental gears aren't completely greased.
"No," I say, "I certainly don't need anything that big," remembering the seats-6-with-all-their-luggage-and-a-kiddie-pool Vue.
"I have a Dodge Magnum...?"
"m'OK," I relent. She could have said, "I have Gursis Baba Friggle Bibby...?" and I would have said the same thing, because the only thing I could picture with the word "magnum" was condoms.
I'm not sure how I would classify the Dodge Magnum. It's got the look of a car for people who like to collect speeding tickets, but it's got a cargo area in the back. It's too short to be a van, but can you really call it a hatch-back? My van technically has a hatch on the back, but "hatch-back" brings other cars to mind. The Ford Pinto is a hatch-back. So is the AMC Gremlin. Back in my day, the name we used for cars that had a cargo area connected to the cab instead of a trunk was "Station Wagon." So, yeah, the Magnum is a fancy, sporty station wagon, albeit one in which you might actually be able to pick up a date.
Now the gears in my mind catch. Is this car, also $89 "on my corporate rate?" They didn't quote me a price, but is that what I paid last time? It's still bigger than I need, certainly not "blah," and I don't recall explicitly saying, "no, I want something cheaper." "No, not that big," should mean, to most people, "don't try to upsale me, just give me what I asked for."
This is decidedly dishonest for their use of the words, "on your corporate rate." They know I made the reservation trough a corporate travel agency. "Your corporate rate" is meant to imply that your company has agreed to the price. They haven't. That's the price Avis is offering to charge your company, and not necessarily discounted.
They handed me the barely discernible, used-up ink ribboned, dot matrix printout with, "initial here, here, here and here and sign here," but I didn't notice anything about a rate. It certainly wasn't told to me. I assumed, perhaps naively, that when my travel preferences explicitly state, "small to midsize" and quote a specific price when I make a reservation, that's what I'll get. No one at the airport asks me, "I have a first class seat available...?" when I get my boarding pass.
Yes, yes, caveat emptor, and I should check what I'm paying before I sign, but I already agreed to one price, so unless someone specifically says, "this is more," then that's all I should pay. They did say (this time) a particular car was more, but to that option I said, no. Without being told, upfront, before I say, OK, what the price of the other option is, I have to assume it's what I agreed to.
Not that I'm paying for it. I'm expensing the car. I just don't want the people whose corporate pockets the cost is coming out of coming by my office, jabbing their finger at my credit card statement, going, "explain this!" I'm sure I can manage a good, "b'wah...?" and reiterate the above. They've been letting me slide on my two beers with dinner (expensing alcohol is verboten) so I'm hoping they'll let this go, too.
Now we come to the little exercise I like to call, "Insert tab A into slot B." When was the last time you got into a car that came with instructions? OK, technically they all come with instructions, but when have you ever felt it necessary to read them? These are the keys that were in the car (broken ring hole, tape and all):
First, why do car rental agencies feel it necessary to give you two keys, then insist on bolting them together? What am I supposed to do with the second key? Use it when some distempered valet snaps the other one off in the lock?
Turns out, I don't know what to do with either key. They slide into the ignition, but that appears to be all they do. They slide so far into the ignition, with the head of the key so small, that I can just barely get my fingers in there to try to turn them. I don't try to twist too hard for fear of snapping them off or lacerating my fingers on the edges.
To that point, I've seen keys like this before - small, hideaway ones that slide into the remote fob. I've assumed they were there in case the remote battery died, so you could still open the door. These slide into the ignition, but so far that you can't turn them, so now I'm looking all over the interior for a start button, something other than the familiar turning key that's so much a given they're on my son's baby toys.
I shine a light into the ignition socket, and then I take another look at the key fob. That's when I remember that the point of most technological "innovation" is to be capricious and unnecessary. (Technology for its own sake, adding complication to simplicity because it's kewl.) And it dawns on me - the plug-shaped fob is the key. I jam it into the socket and twist and voilá, it starts up.
If two keys is mockingly unnecessary, then two keys that don't work, bolted onto something that doesn't look like a key but is, is just fucking with me.
For this I paid extra.
I did have the multiple gate-change, 4-hour layover fiasco in Chicago's O'Hare. (I was going to call the post, "O'Harried" or "O'Harrowing." Perhaps fortunately the post never happened.) While I was walking to my gate at one end of the terminal - the end of the terminal - they changed my gate to one in a completely different terminal. Let me say it again - changed while I was walking there. I lugged my 40 lb. shoulder bag (because who needs wheels?) and my backpack with laptop and accouterments (is that were luggage comes from, or is it the other way?) around the football stadium that is O'Hare for 4 hours. I had time to kill, and what was I supposed to do, buy a book and sit and read it?
They changed my gate 3 more times while I waited. Others told me that it was par for "No'Fare." So, while arduous, I didn't feel it particularly interesting enough to write about. Except that, well, I just did.
I knew what my topic was going to be last month, however, very soon after I landed. There is the unsung villain, perhaps villainous sidekick, rather, to air travel - car rental.
First off, there is the possibly illegal, though certainly unethical practice of tricking you into an upgrade. You reserve a small to midsize car, and when you show up to collect your reservation they say, "I have a monster SUV, or a fancy, high-end sport sedan available...?" Oh, they have plenty of smaller cars, too. But they're making you say, "OK" to the bigger car by presenting them, and only them, as options, usually without telling you they'll cost more.
Last month I switched to Avis from Enterprise, because I didn't like the later's practice of being a mere $10 cheaper, but offering a car so stripped down I was lucky to have automatic windows. (Does anyone have manual, roll-down windows anymore? But then what motion do you use when you want to talk to the person in the car next to you?) They (Enterprise) told me that for a "modest upgrade" I could get things like a stereo radio, cruise control (essential to keeping to the speed limit in a foreign state) and a key fob, so I don't have to fumble with gloves on in the snow and rain to get a key in and unlock one door then reach over and manually unlock the others to let in my passengers who're still standing outside. You know, the stuff we never had when we were kids. I know the corporate bean counters back home would balk at the word "upgrade" on my receipt, so I opted for the one who gave you all that stuff in the base rate.
If only they would give you the base rate. Booking the car through my corporate travel site, there's a price quoted for a midsize sedan of $48/day. Last month, when I got to the counter, the helpful woman at the counter said, "I have a Saturn Vue...?" Knowing as much about cars as I do economic foreign policy, I say, "m'OK," and am surprised to see a sporty little SUV waiting for me. And here I am thinking, wow, how nice of Avis to have such nice cars - worth the extra $10. There was some monster snow that weekend, so it turned out to be fortuitous.
So this time at the counter I'm told, "I have a [some brand I forget], which is a midsize SUV." Then, as I pause for a moment to consider what could be "midsize" for a monster truck that's far too huge for most people to get around in, and how it still qualifies as one, "it's $89 on your corporate rate." It's late at night and I'm tired, so my mental gears aren't completely greased.
"No," I say, "I certainly don't need anything that big," remembering the seats-6-with-all-their-luggage-and-a-kiddie-pool Vue.
"I have a Dodge Magnum...?"
"m'OK," I relent. She could have said, "I have Gursis Baba Friggle Bibby...?" and I would have said the same thing, because the only thing I could picture with the word "magnum" was condoms.
I'm not sure how I would classify the Dodge Magnum. It's got the look of a car for people who like to collect speeding tickets, but it's got a cargo area in the back. It's too short to be a van, but can you really call it a hatch-back? My van technically has a hatch on the back, but "hatch-back" brings other cars to mind. The Ford Pinto is a hatch-back. So is the AMC Gremlin. Back in my day, the name we used for cars that had a cargo area connected to the cab instead of a trunk was "Station Wagon." So, yeah, the Magnum is a fancy, sporty station wagon, albeit one in which you might actually be able to pick up a date.
Now the gears in my mind catch. Is this car, also $89 "on my corporate rate?" They didn't quote me a price, but is that what I paid last time? It's still bigger than I need, certainly not "blah," and I don't recall explicitly saying, "no, I want something cheaper." "No, not that big," should mean, to most people, "don't try to upsale me, just give me what I asked for."
This is decidedly dishonest for their use of the words, "on your corporate rate." They know I made the reservation trough a corporate travel agency. "Your corporate rate" is meant to imply that your company has agreed to the price. They haven't. That's the price Avis is offering to charge your company, and not necessarily discounted.
They handed me the barely discernible, used-up ink ribboned, dot matrix printout with, "initial here, here, here and here and sign here," but I didn't notice anything about a rate. It certainly wasn't told to me. I assumed, perhaps naively, that when my travel preferences explicitly state, "small to midsize" and quote a specific price when I make a reservation, that's what I'll get. No one at the airport asks me, "I have a first class seat available...?" when I get my boarding pass.
Yes, yes, caveat emptor, and I should check what I'm paying before I sign, but I already agreed to one price, so unless someone specifically says, "this is more," then that's all I should pay. They did say (this time) a particular car was more, but to that option I said, no. Without being told, upfront, before I say, OK, what the price of the other option is, I have to assume it's what I agreed to.
Not that I'm paying for it. I'm expensing the car. I just don't want the people whose corporate pockets the cost is coming out of coming by my office, jabbing their finger at my credit card statement, going, "explain this!" I'm sure I can manage a good, "b'wah...?" and reiterate the above. They've been letting me slide on my two beers with dinner (expensing alcohol is verboten) so I'm hoping they'll let this go, too.
Now we come to the little exercise I like to call, "Insert tab A into slot B." When was the last time you got into a car that came with instructions? OK, technically they all come with instructions, but when have you ever felt it necessary to read them? These are the keys that were in the car (broken ring hole, tape and all):
First, why do car rental agencies feel it necessary to give you two keys, then insist on bolting them together? What am I supposed to do with the second key? Use it when some distempered valet snaps the other one off in the lock?
Turns out, I don't know what to do with either key. They slide into the ignition, but that appears to be all they do. They slide so far into the ignition, with the head of the key so small, that I can just barely get my fingers in there to try to turn them. I don't try to twist too hard for fear of snapping them off or lacerating my fingers on the edges.
To that point, I've seen keys like this before - small, hideaway ones that slide into the remote fob. I've assumed they were there in case the remote battery died, so you could still open the door. These slide into the ignition, but so far that you can't turn them, so now I'm looking all over the interior for a start button, something other than the familiar turning key that's so much a given they're on my son's baby toys.
I shine a light into the ignition socket, and then I take another look at the key fob. That's when I remember that the point of most technological "innovation" is to be capricious and unnecessary. (Technology for its own sake, adding complication to simplicity because it's kewl.) And it dawns on me - the plug-shaped fob is the key. I jam it into the socket and twist and voilá, it starts up.
If two keys is mockingly unnecessary, then two keys that don't work, bolted onto something that doesn't look like a key but is, is just fucking with me.
For this I paid extra.
Quiznos can suck my ass
"Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm, mmmm, zzzzzzz....."
Right through the security screening at Chicago O'Hare (which I got through with one of those dangerous, deadly bottles of water in my bag - forgot it was there, but noticed my bags on the x-ray screen as the screener's back was turned to it to talk to the "security" person behind him - your tax dullards at work, don't you feel safe now?) is tiny Quiznos sub stand.
Long story short: the timestamp on my reciept is 1:19PM, my order number is 86. I realize how much of an error I've made when, waiting in a crowd of other people still waiting for their sandwiches, they're still calling numbers in the 70's.
There's three people working behind the counter - one person ringing up sales as fast as people queue up on line, one person making sandwiches as fast as she cares to make them, and another handing them out as fast as they roll out of the oven (i.e. not very).
Some 15 minutes later, and they're calling numbers in the low 80's, and I think I might actually get to eat something before my flight. "84!" Soon, very soon. "85!" OK, any minute now.
Except now there's a shift change for the person pulling the subs out of the oven. She leaves, and is out of sight before her replacement waddles (and I do mean waddles) into view. The replacement doesn't look like she's in a hurry to breathe (and appears to be using most of her mental capacity to remain doing so). There's an empty wire rack from the last sub at the end of the oven conveyor, and it's keeping the current sub from leaving the oven completely. So while the relief wrapper is punching in and slowly (I don't think she bent her knees once) squeezing her oompa-loompa frame between the sandwich maker and the oven, I'm watching what I assume to be my sandwich (read on) approach cumbustion.
"87!"
"What about 86!" I bark, and am sumarily ignored.
It's now more than 20 minutes past the time on my receipt. "90!" (they failed to call 88 or 89 as well) 20 minutes - this is lousy service on the season opener of Hell's Kitchen. How long should I be expected to wait for a god-damned sandwich? They only have 4 or 5 kinds on the menu, so it's not like I confused anyone with something unusual. It's not like they do anything else.
I decided I wasn't going to stand for such [dis]service and went back to the cashier and waited on line again to demand a refund. Of course there's a form that had to be filled out. I'm asked to sign at the bottom, then, "sorry about that." On the bottom it's noted, "customer said they waited too long," as the reason. (The man behind me asked, "what's good here?" I told him another place down the terminal. When he laughed, I related the above and he heeded my advice.) She handed me back my original receipt, and that was it. I paid with a credit card, so there wasn't anything necessarily to physically give me, but there was no button pushing on the register, either. We'll see if it shows up on my statement in a week.
[Disclaimer: I do realize that the quality of service (or lack thereof) of this particular, possibly franchised, establishment may not be indicative of the level of service of the entire chain. I can recall eating at at least two other Quiznos before, and getting my food in a timely enough manner. I've also worked for a number of years in the retail food business, so please don't try to tell me I should have been more respectful of the people who're only taking whatever jobs are available to them and/or that perhaps I don't understand the strains of the job.]
Right through the security screening at Chicago O'Hare (which I got through with one of those dangerous, deadly bottles of water in my bag - forgot it was there, but noticed my bags on the x-ray screen as the screener's back was turned to it to talk to the "security" person behind him - your tax dullards at work, don't you feel safe now?) is tiny Quiznos sub stand.
Long story short: the timestamp on my reciept is 1:19PM, my order number is 86. I realize how much of an error I've made when, waiting in a crowd of other people still waiting for their sandwiches, they're still calling numbers in the 70's.
There's three people working behind the counter - one person ringing up sales as fast as people queue up on line, one person making sandwiches as fast as she cares to make them, and another handing them out as fast as they roll out of the oven (i.e. not very).
Some 15 minutes later, and they're calling numbers in the low 80's, and I think I might actually get to eat something before my flight. "84!" Soon, very soon. "85!" OK, any minute now.
Except now there's a shift change for the person pulling the subs out of the oven. She leaves, and is out of sight before her replacement waddles (and I do mean waddles) into view. The replacement doesn't look like she's in a hurry to breathe (and appears to be using most of her mental capacity to remain doing so). There's an empty wire rack from the last sub at the end of the oven conveyor, and it's keeping the current sub from leaving the oven completely. So while the relief wrapper is punching in and slowly (I don't think she bent her knees once) squeezing her oompa-loompa frame between the sandwich maker and the oven, I'm watching what I assume to be my sandwich (read on) approach cumbustion.
"87!"
"What about 86!" I bark, and am sumarily ignored.
It's now more than 20 minutes past the time on my receipt. "90!" (they failed to call 88 or 89 as well) 20 minutes - this is lousy service on the season opener of Hell's Kitchen. How long should I be expected to wait for a god-damned sandwich? They only have 4 or 5 kinds on the menu, so it's not like I confused anyone with something unusual. It's not like they do anything else.
I decided I wasn't going to stand for such [dis]service and went back to the cashier and waited on line again to demand a refund. Of course there's a form that had to be filled out. I'm asked to sign at the bottom, then, "sorry about that." On the bottom it's noted, "customer said they waited too long," as the reason. (The man behind me asked, "what's good here?" I told him another place down the terminal. When he laughed, I related the above and he heeded my advice.) She handed me back my original receipt, and that was it. I paid with a credit card, so there wasn't anything necessarily to physically give me, but there was no button pushing on the register, either. We'll see if it shows up on my statement in a week.
[Disclaimer: I do realize that the quality of service (or lack thereof) of this particular, possibly franchised, establishment may not be indicative of the level of service of the entire chain. I can recall eating at at least two other Quiznos before, and getting my food in a timely enough manner. I've also worked for a number of years in the retail food business, so please don't try to tell me I should have been more respectful of the people who're only taking whatever jobs are available to them and/or that perhaps I don't understand the strains of the job.]
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Spare Change
Thought this was funny. Visit the site, buy a shirt (or don't).
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Tuesday, February 24, 2009
if only we were running out of crazy people...
more of the same, this time with audio goodness
* ACORN is "under federal indictment for voter fraud," but the stimulus bill nevertheless gives ACORN "$5 billion." (In reality, ACORN is not under federal indictment and isn't mentioned in the stimulus bill at all.)
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"Running out of rich people?"
It might be technically correct, as fewer and fewer collect and hoard more and more of the money, but is the biggest economic problem in this country really hurting the richest of us in a way comparable to how it's hurt everyone else?
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Tuesday, January 27, 2009
the pig likes it
There was one rule I used to espouse to others when entering into a flame war. "Do Not Feed the Bears." It just keeps them coming back, doesn't it? There's a reason they tell you not to feed the animals when going through the drive-through safari. You may have seen the videos of the hoards of baboons scrambling to get into someone's car after they made the mistake of rolling down their window to offer a peanut.
On the one hand, I should be grateful someone is reading what I write. But what to do when your new "fan" is someone whose time is occupied with "BLLARRGGHHH!!! DEMOCRATSARETHEWORSTEVAR!! OBAMA'S THE MOST FAILED PRESIDENT OF ALL TIMES!!!! HE'SCORRUPTANDEVILWE'REALLDOOOOMMED!!!!!"? So what if they're the only person to date who's ever thought enough about my blog to leave a comment?
It's like, "I really like what you say, it strikes a cord with me. By the way, I molest children."
Perhaps that's an extreme analogy, but when you're dealing with someone form whom the Biggest Threat to OWL (Our Way of Life) is gays marrying, well, there's not much reason you can interject into the discussion.
There's a part of me, a part that I'm finding difficult to let go of, that still believes there's something, some phrasing, some analogy, some way of illustrating the situation, some fact, that's just waiting to be said out loud, because the other party just hasn't heard it or considered it, and suddenly the lights will go on - there will be that "aha!" moment and all will be clear. I've been trying to do that with my mother for more than 40 years, and it hasn't worked yet. Sometimes the reason train runs express and doesn't stop at every station.
My first inclination, of course, is to wade into the fracas with, "but you realize Bush..." but that would immediately equate me with these very same people who responded to any criticism of George II with, "b-b-b-but Clinton..."
It doesn't matter how faulty their logic, you cannot win an "I'm rubber, you're glue" argument.
There really is no argument to win - and that's the issue. I had classes in how to argue in college. (Well, to argue anywhere, not just in college.) It was actually called Critical Reasoning and Argument. An "argument" makes a Claim, supported by Grounds and established with a Warrant. See, "reasoning" was the key. An argument was only valid when no one could refute your grounds or find fault in your warrant. We spent more than half the class covering fallacies - the ad hominem argument, the "appeal to authority," the straw man, etc. (there are scores of them) - or faulty reasoning. (or not reasoning at all.) Like all logical tests, you just have to find one instance - no matter how far-fetched - where it doesn't work to invalidate it. The grounds, or "facts," were often left to interpretation.
See, Logic doesn't tolerate hypocrisies. If it's right, it's right, if it's wrong, it's wrong. I have very little compassion for the hate-filled hearts that are white supremacists (OK, none). But I do feel poor little Adolph Hitler and Aryan Nation should be returned to their parents. It doesn't matter than some would like to see the parents beaten with pipes, the state, so far, hasn't provided adequate grounds for removing them.
Likewise, President Obama has taken an oath of the office - he's sworn to uphold, defend and protect the Constitution. It doesn't matter the exact wording used. It doesn't matter what kind of bible his hand was on, if it was on one at all, or which hand was raised. For 8 years we were told, "he was elected, he's president, suck it up, deal with it." Yet now it seems open to discussion.
There's another aphorism that goes, "you're the one who ends up stinking if you get into a fight with a skunk." The point of dictionary definition argument is to resolve conflict - to present ideas to come to agreement. There is nothing to be gained from endlessly hurling "you suck!" "no, you suck!" at each other. Put another way, what do you get when you get into an argument with an idiot? Two idiots. You'd be better arguing with the cat you just ran over that it shouldn't be dead, or with the rain that it shouldn't be falling out if the sky.
There are some, unfortunately, who revel in the slugfest. They'll hurl barbs and insults, the more outrageous and unfounded the better, for the whole point of getting you to enter into the pissing contest - but only to point out to their compatriots how "unreasonable" you're being. And that's the point of all this. Never wrestle with a pig. You both get dirty, but the pig likes it.
(I ended up replying to the thread anyway. They set the bait and I took it. I'm weak that way.)
On the one hand, I should be grateful someone is reading what I write. But what to do when your new "fan" is someone whose time is occupied with "BLLARRGGHHH!!! DEMOCRATSARETHEWORSTEVAR!! OBAMA'S THE MOST FAILED PRESIDENT OF ALL TIMES!!!! HE'SCORRUPTANDEVILWE'REALLDOOOOMMED!!!!!"? So what if they're the only person to date who's ever thought enough about my blog to leave a comment?
It's like, "I really like what you say, it strikes a cord with me. By the way, I molest children."
Perhaps that's an extreme analogy, but when you're dealing with someone form whom the Biggest Threat to OWL (Our Way of Life) is gays marrying, well, there's not much reason you can interject into the discussion.
There's a part of me, a part that I'm finding difficult to let go of, that still believes there's something, some phrasing, some analogy, some way of illustrating the situation, some fact, that's just waiting to be said out loud, because the other party just hasn't heard it or considered it, and suddenly the lights will go on - there will be that "aha!" moment and all will be clear. I've been trying to do that with my mother for more than 40 years, and it hasn't worked yet. Sometimes the reason train runs express and doesn't stop at every station.
My first inclination, of course, is to wade into the fracas with, "but you realize Bush..." but that would immediately equate me with these very same people who responded to any criticism of George II with, "b-b-b-but Clinton..."
It doesn't matter how faulty their logic, you cannot win an "I'm rubber, you're glue" argument.
There really is no argument to win - and that's the issue. I had classes in how to argue in college. (Well, to argue anywhere, not just in college.) It was actually called Critical Reasoning and Argument. An "argument" makes a Claim, supported by Grounds and established with a Warrant. See, "reasoning" was the key. An argument was only valid when no one could refute your grounds or find fault in your warrant. We spent more than half the class covering fallacies - the ad hominem argument, the "appeal to authority," the straw man, etc. (there are scores of them) - or faulty reasoning. (or not reasoning at all.) Like all logical tests, you just have to find one instance - no matter how far-fetched - where it doesn't work to invalidate it. The grounds, or "facts," were often left to interpretation.
See, Logic doesn't tolerate hypocrisies. If it's right, it's right, if it's wrong, it's wrong. I have very little compassion for the hate-filled hearts that are white supremacists (OK, none). But I do feel poor little Adolph Hitler and Aryan Nation should be returned to their parents. It doesn't matter than some would like to see the parents beaten with pipes, the state, so far, hasn't provided adequate grounds for removing them.
Likewise, President Obama has taken an oath of the office - he's sworn to uphold, defend and protect the Constitution. It doesn't matter the exact wording used. It doesn't matter what kind of bible his hand was on, if it was on one at all, or which hand was raised. For 8 years we were told, "he was elected, he's president, suck it up, deal with it." Yet now it seems open to discussion.
There's another aphorism that goes, "you're the one who ends up stinking if you get into a fight with a skunk." The point of dictionary definition argument is to resolve conflict - to present ideas to come to agreement. There is nothing to be gained from endlessly hurling "you suck!" "no, you suck!" at each other. Put another way, what do you get when you get into an argument with an idiot? Two idiots. You'd be better arguing with the cat you just ran over that it shouldn't be dead, or with the rain that it shouldn't be falling out if the sky.
There are some, unfortunately, who revel in the slugfest. They'll hurl barbs and insults, the more outrageous and unfounded the better, for the whole point of getting you to enter into the pissing contest - but only to point out to their compatriots how "unreasonable" you're being. And that's the point of all this. Never wrestle with a pig. You both get dirty, but the pig likes it.
(I ended up replying to the thread anyway. They set the bait and I took it. I'm weak that way.)
Monday, January 26, 2009
it's a matter of timing, isn't it?
Hits the nail on the head. You cannot legislate behavior. (e.g Prohibition) Few refrain from killing simply because it's illegal to do so.
the issue is not Pro-Abortion Laws, it is the culture that creates the need for abortion.
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Friday, January 23, 2009
It's not a ripple, it's a wake
[what follows is a reposting from the FOLIO: MedioPRO
social networking site: http://mediapro.foliomag.com/profiles/blog/list]
That was the tag line in my response to someone's question here. The question was about whether or not the current (euphemistically named) "economic downturn" was affecting our industry.
My first response was, "you don't work in this business, do you?"
In the news today was notice that McCann Erickson was laying off 3% of the company, and Playboy was essentially closing its NY production offices (“'a small number' of licensing, editorial and other publishing positions" would relocate to Chicago - the positions, mind you, not necessarily the people who currently hold them).
That was just this morning. That was just New York City.
My magazine folded and I was laid off a week before my wedding. It was, at the time, one of the better things to happen to me.* It was less than three and a half years ago.
*(Getting laid off, I mean, not the wedding. Not that getting married wasn't great - it was - it was better. Please don't show this to my wife.)
I would have been closing an issue right up until the big day. They were doing me a favor. In addition to offering me (as I remember) 3 months' severance, they gave me the option of the job I currently hold. There were a slew of freelance opportunities to be had. My choices were steady income for a little while, and the opportunity to make money on top of that, or back at work on Monday. No one faulted me for choosing the former.
It afforded me the opportunity to work at a few other, big name titles, to meet and get to know more people in the business, to see how everyone else does things. What did it teach me? 1) that I really do know what I'm doing (though I remain terribly insecure); 2) there are many people I still need to learn a lot from; and 3) this business is really small - everyone knows everyone else.
Of the people I know that do what I do, many of them are happy to be getting a regular paycheck - the ones that are getting one. People I used to freelance for are now freelancing themselves, some less than they'd like. A temp agency I once dealt with years ago at my last job (I hired one person for a few weeks who wasn't terribly talented) is now calling me monthly, in the vain hope that someone may have fallen under a bus (perish the thought!) and I might have an open position. The job posting boards that were all Production, Production and Production, long enough after I accepted my current job to make me wonder if I'd made the right choice, now only list the occasional Photo Researcher. (I had a kid on the way, and a regular check and health insurance seemed a good idea.)
Our printer laid off more than 500 people while I was at one of their plants two weeks ago. There were whole football field-sized rooms of presses not running. It is no longer a matter of performance, but of cost cutting. That's why many people like me are scared. No one wants to be rendered redundant.
Not just redundant, but irrelevant.
While freelancing, I turned my nose up at jobs that needed an "expert" with Quark 4 on Mac OS 9 - both of which I am, but who wants more experience with those skills on a résumé? Now I'm in a similar position, but on the other side of the fence. See, we just got the Adobe CS2 suite last year. Yes, CS2. And yes, CS4 is entering into the work stream now. Every tip, trick and how-to site I frequent is now rife with gushing reports on the new CS4 features, though they're still full of their mainstay CS3 solutions. Solutions, many of which, I can't use, because I don't use that version every waking minute. Once the go-to guy, the guru, the expert, now I'm the one with the disadvantaged skill set.
(I'm not even going to mention all of the software I'm getting to make my job easier that doesn't work on my OS X 10.3 system. Nope, not going to mention it at all.)
While my particular title is doing well, the company just laid off 100 people just before the holidays. As much as I've convinced everyone there's tremendous benefits to upgrading that go beyond bolstering my skill set, they've stated they have no current plans to do so.
Of course, all of this assumes we're printing anything on paper in the next 10 years. They're already talking about the "Death of the Newspaper" like they were talking about Obama being president back in October.
I'm not adverse to change. I went to school for film, got a degree in English, got a job in video post production, which turned into web production, which turned into rebuilding servers, which, naturally, lead to a job doing page layout. The universe has always pointed the way for me in the past to get me to where I am now (not too shabby, so far) so I guess I'm looking for the sign post that's going to tell me what new skills to pick up and which to drop. It's not that I don't want to move, just that all my stuff is here, and I know I can't take all of it with me (especially as I'll likely be moving to a cheaper place).
So, tell me, what's the next big thing? Better minds than mine are still climbing all over themselves trying to figure that out.
I've thought about teaching. You know, if you can't beat 'em, train 'em. I really do enjoy sharing what I know (sometimes even with people who don't care to know it). One thing there's still no shortage of is schools churning out scores of youngsters ready to apply for my job - people with no kids or mortgages who can move on to the next industry the way I used to move on to the next bar.
My dad used to have a bumper sticker that read, "Old age and treachery will overcome youth and skill." Maybe it's time I start playing dirty.
social networking site: http://mediapro.foliomag.com/profiles/blog/list]
That was the tag line in my response to someone's question here. The question was about whether or not the current (euphemistically named) "economic downturn" was affecting our industry.
My first response was, "you don't work in this business, do you?"
In the news today was notice that McCann Erickson was laying off 3% of the company, and Playboy was essentially closing its NY production offices (“'a small number' of licensing, editorial and other publishing positions" would relocate to Chicago - the positions, mind you, not necessarily the people who currently hold them).
That was just this morning. That was just New York City.
My magazine folded and I was laid off a week before my wedding. It was, at the time, one of the better things to happen to me.* It was less than three and a half years ago.
*(Getting laid off, I mean, not the wedding. Not that getting married wasn't great - it was - it was better. Please don't show this to my wife.)
I would have been closing an issue right up until the big day. They were doing me a favor. In addition to offering me (as I remember) 3 months' severance, they gave me the option of the job I currently hold. There were a slew of freelance opportunities to be had. My choices were steady income for a little while, and the opportunity to make money on top of that, or back at work on Monday. No one faulted me for choosing the former.
It afforded me the opportunity to work at a few other, big name titles, to meet and get to know more people in the business, to see how everyone else does things. What did it teach me? 1) that I really do know what I'm doing (though I remain terribly insecure); 2) there are many people I still need to learn a lot from; and 3) this business is really small - everyone knows everyone else.
Of the people I know that do what I do, many of them are happy to be getting a regular paycheck - the ones that are getting one. People I used to freelance for are now freelancing themselves, some less than they'd like. A temp agency I once dealt with years ago at my last job (I hired one person for a few weeks who wasn't terribly talented) is now calling me monthly, in the vain hope that someone may have fallen under a bus (perish the thought!) and I might have an open position. The job posting boards that were all Production, Production and Production, long enough after I accepted my current job to make me wonder if I'd made the right choice, now only list the occasional Photo Researcher. (I had a kid on the way, and a regular check and health insurance seemed a good idea.)
Our printer laid off more than 500 people while I was at one of their plants two weeks ago. There were whole football field-sized rooms of presses not running. It is no longer a matter of performance, but of cost cutting. That's why many people like me are scared. No one wants to be rendered redundant.
Not just redundant, but irrelevant.
While freelancing, I turned my nose up at jobs that needed an "expert" with Quark 4 on Mac OS 9 - both of which I am, but who wants more experience with those skills on a résumé? Now I'm in a similar position, but on the other side of the fence. See, we just got the Adobe CS2 suite last year. Yes, CS2. And yes, CS4 is entering into the work stream now. Every tip, trick and how-to site I frequent is now rife with gushing reports on the new CS4 features, though they're still full of their mainstay CS3 solutions. Solutions, many of which, I can't use, because I don't use that version every waking minute. Once the go-to guy, the guru, the expert, now I'm the one with the disadvantaged skill set.
(I'm not even going to mention all of the software I'm getting to make my job easier that doesn't work on my OS X 10.3 system. Nope, not going to mention it at all.)
While my particular title is doing well, the company just laid off 100 people just before the holidays. As much as I've convinced everyone there's tremendous benefits to upgrading that go beyond bolstering my skill set, they've stated they have no current plans to do so.
Of course, all of this assumes we're printing anything on paper in the next 10 years. They're already talking about the "Death of the Newspaper" like they were talking about Obama being president back in October.
I'm not adverse to change. I went to school for film, got a degree in English, got a job in video post production, which turned into web production, which turned into rebuilding servers, which, naturally, lead to a job doing page layout. The universe has always pointed the way for me in the past to get me to where I am now (not too shabby, so far) so I guess I'm looking for the sign post that's going to tell me what new skills to pick up and which to drop. It's not that I don't want to move, just that all my stuff is here, and I know I can't take all of it with me (especially as I'll likely be moving to a cheaper place).
So, tell me, what's the next big thing? Better minds than mine are still climbing all over themselves trying to figure that out.
I've thought about teaching. You know, if you can't beat 'em, train 'em. I really do enjoy sharing what I know (sometimes even with people who don't care to know it). One thing there's still no shortage of is schools churning out scores of youngsters ready to apply for my job - people with no kids or mortgages who can move on to the next industry the way I used to move on to the next bar.
My dad used to have a bumper sticker that read, "Old age and treachery will overcome youth and skill." Maybe it's time I start playing dirty.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
so long, and sorry about all the fish...
some of the images are pretty remarkable
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Thursday, January 15, 2009
Funny condom ad
NSFW(OBA) not safe for work (or balloon animals)
the "outtakes" are pretty funny, too
the "outtakes" are pretty funny, too
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