Panic! At the Disco

Wow. What you're seeing is your government standing up for you even if it's the wrong thing to do, and then dropping the ball and leaving things in a mess. They've heard the voices of their people and they are responding. And boy oh boy are their people pissed. They are emotional and irrational, and willing to crush the entire system in order to set the system right. And after saying no, they're going on election recess.

People would much rather see their investments tank than bail out billionaires for their bad decision making. Initially people would have not paid any mind to the poor getting thrown out of their homes for taking a sketchy mortgage. Now it's trickled up to the middle class, and the middle class is getting hosed. Mostly people are looking at what they've done, said "I'm doing nothing wrong, why do I have to help people who are failing? Why do I have to take that risk? I didn't risk before, why am I being forced to risk now?"

There is a significant psychological component to this, this is true, and most people get it. But they aren't moving forward until, metaphorically speaking, heads are on pike staffs outside of the Capitol Dome. And if the system falls apart because Congress goes on recess, their heads should be right next to them.

More importantly, the references to Chicken Little or the Boy who cried "wolf" may not be 100% accurate but people are tired of eight years of "if we don't do this we're all dead." I'm fortunate. I don't have a mortgage, have significant cash in savings, and can eliminate my debt in a hurry. I also know that many others, well, are not.

A long shot is that the 371 billionaires in the U.S. could come up as heroes and bail out the government by each making a $20 million donation. But they got rich presumably by taking good risks. This isn't a good risk and everyone knows it.

When people are identified for prosecution, maybe then people will endorse the deal. There's a sense of cruel vindication. You lose, you don't get bailed out- you lose your shorts and go broke. That's the deal that the people want to see.

If the financial system can't take that, then the system is dysfunctional and there will be more pain coming.

Who's To Blame for the Banks?

Always, always, ALWAYS beware of partisan politics. They rely on misinformation, half-truths, and blind partisanship to survive.

Yes, the people that caused this mess did so under Republican rule. But the ability for them to do the things that cause what they're calling a financial crisis was initiated and approved by a Democrat.

Pay particular attention to what caused the Acts to be written, and then in turn what caused them to be repealed and ask yourself... why?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glass-Steagall_Act

Cue: Drop, Other Shoe

When I handed in my two week notice last Monday, I felt a deepening sense of dread the entire weekend. Dread because I knew the people for whom I work were going to take the decision personally.

Nothing was initially said, but I did not accept that nothing would be said. Their displeasure would be released, I was certain of it. I had nothing more than a hunch and prior experience to base this on.

They realized something was amiss when, after I told them I was leaving, that my primary customer knew as well- because they were one of my references. That generated a look upon realization of "you sneaky bastard."

Yesterday, I was called into the office and "feelings were expressed."

After telling me that had I approached them first, they would have been happy to see me go and would have provided great letters, I nodded. When they finished, I countered with a simple "you didn't make me feel comfortable with that option and the decision I made at the time was solid." When I explained my reasoning, they retreated from their indignance and were conciliatory. "No hard feelings" was said enough times to attempt to mask the hard feelings.

Tick tock. Three more days to go.

Hope vs. Abandon Hope

We were in a store, when I happened to notice what looked like an unpackaged Obama-bobblehead on the floor. It wasn't actually a bobblehead, but a statue with a disproportionately large head. Nothing wrong with that, except the surroundings were strange.

1) It was facing the corner
2) On its left was a giant red plastic devil mask
3) On its right a pile of plastic signs "Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here"

Every now and then, the doll would bust out with "Can we do it? Yes we can!" if you got close enough.

This felt... wrong to me. I mean, isn't it a fairly strong metaphor to put Obama in the corner, not facing anyone, even if only an effigy?

I point out to the clerk, and ask "don't you feel weird putting Obama in (and motioned to) the corner, especially with all this evil stuff?"

"No, it annoys the customers. It has no off switch. It doesn't shut up. ... Actually, it kind of reminds me of a 98 lb. version of O.J. Simpson."

I laugh my way out of the store. The sound of Obama's voice annoys the customer, juxtaposing his message of hope with Dante's Inferno. The sound won't ever stop, and after awhile the whole Obama message could be associated with a suspected murderer. But the real punchline?

This was an independant book store in the People's Republic of Berkeley, California. So blue they are indigo, possibly ultraviolet. Or more like red, and not Republican red. Green, and not money green. Too bad pink's not in the rainbow, because they've got that too. The only reason Obama would not get all of the votes in this town is because he's too central, too fascist, not true enough to the people's cause. Not liberal enough, not progressive enough.

I'm glad I saw this before I leave.

Corporate doublespeak, meetings and fatigue

I hate business meetings.
I really, really hate business meetings.
Invariably, these meetings turn out to be a big circle jerk, fingers get vaguely pointed to blame someone for some wrong doing, promises get made to improve the situation, and nothing comes of it. Business meetings are every bit the futile, soul-sucking exercise they're intended to be.
I hate business meetings.
In my not-quite-so-new job, I monitor alarms on government and military two-way radio equipment. The unfortunate part is the hours: I work overnight four nights a week.
So, whenever I have to attend a meeting, I have to attend it at 7 a.m., right as I'm supposed to leave.
I really, really hate business meetings.
Yesterday morning was a great example of the soul-sucking corporate meeting. Everybody from the overnight shift was present, as were a few folks from the day shift. Essentially, the meeting was called because some folks, myself included, screwed up in opening up a few trouble tickets and/or following up on tickets.
Luckily, I still have the FNG (Frakkin' New Guy) label, so I haven't come remotely close to getting canned....yet.
The meeting started with everyone seated around a rather generic-looking conference table in a rather generic-looking conference room, with two supervisors present and another on a conference call with the rest of us. The department head was also on the call.
Right away, the department head said "this was by no means any sort of disciplinary action." Right. That explains everything.
The meeting continued with examples of trouble tickets that various folks had screwed up, either by not following specific customer requests or by inputting a site ID incorrectly. Certain customers have different IDs, for the same site, based on how they want a particular alarm to be addressed. Once that was explained to everybody, this particular problem all but vanished.
Problem is, one of the customers who recently complained had been affected by recent hurricanes. Naturally, this meant more trouble tickets were opened, therefore, more errors happened than usual.
In the meantime, fresh off a 10-hour shift, the overnight folks were starting to nod off.
I really, really hate meetings.
I understand their purpose, really. Everyone's accountable to somebody else, so management has to demonstrate they're doing something to correct a problem, lest someone higher up the ladder decide cuts are needed.
I just don't like sticking around for something when I'm about to fall asleep.
Of course, the meeting disintegrated into a discussion of other problems, real or perceived. My personal favorite problem was about how burdened the overnight shift is because we have to handle monitoring alarms, opening cases and dispatching those cases to the appropriate technician. First and second shift only have to monitor alarms and open cases.
Normally, the overnight shift is pretty slow. There's exceptions when there's bad weather or when there's a major telco outage, but usually, it's pretty slow. In the last week, I read the last two books in the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy series and started reading a new book....while still doing my job.
Have I mentioned that I hate meetings?
I hate it even more when people ask questions in meetings. Questions only serve to drag the meeting out, keeping me from sleep. I like sleep. I don't like meetings.
Thankfully, the department head had another conference call to make, so the meeting adjourned at 8 a.m.
The catch? We have to meet again in a few weeks to see if there's been any improvement.
I hate business meetings.

Tragedy in City Council, continued

So they've found the accomplices. One was a German national, 9 months pregnant looking to score some drugs, and she was the getaway driver. The other was trying to identify a dealer to have him hit by the shooter. The shooter's name, Henry Don Williams, is out as is his checkered past. They've got the shell casings and the accomplices. Just a matter of time now.

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2008/09/16/BA2612UCIB.DTL&hw=garcia&sn=001&sc=1000

It's both sad for the death and inspiring to see how the community has rallied around the death of this man.

What was revolting was that there was actually a small segment of the populace that said he deserved it for being in that place at that time. You know, visiting with a girlfriend in a driveway of a suburban residential area. Some even placed the blame on the girl. Never mind that she volunteered everything she could, including things not requested, in order that the police find the lowlifes that did this.

I have nothing other than contained rage, sadness, and empathy for the man's family and friends. I will do what I can so that he lives beyond his time on Earth.

It's Official

I resigned my job today. My last day is September 26.

I accepted a job in Rockville, MD starting October 27.
Updates will follow as they become available.

Tragedy in City Council

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2008/09/02/BAEK12MJSP.DTL&tsp=1

This is a local, legal matter here. This one touched me deeply.

Here we had Matt Garcia, 22, councilman for the city of Fairfield. Fairfield is a bigger city, 100,000 people, with Travis Air Force Base. It has cheaper housing and became a commuter city to San Francisco. Just over the hills from Napa. The area is arid, dry, and pleasant. Just outside of the real desert.

How did a 22-year old become a councilman for a city of 100,000? He saw what was going on in the town, didn't like it, organized a campaign to beat a status-quo representative, and with hard work and elbow grease he won. As far as politics go, it's a standard yet inspiring story.

What was going on in town that he didn't like? Gangs and a lack of development. The city was not developing in a positive manner. He saw the gangs taking areas. He didn't see his government standing up to the gangs. He wanted to change it.

The problem wasn't that he wanted that change, but that the gangs didn't. There are many un-PC, taboo things to say here, but one of these is well known- the gangs here aren't always run by citizens of our country. Identifying the gangs and their members is immediately libeled (yes, libeled) as being racist. Even in the glaring face of common sense, it is racist to consider illegal aliens (not a perjorative, a LEGAL TERM) that break the law AS CRIMINALS.

These gangs are more violent, they have cause an upswelling in crime, and our current system tries instead to understand these people as opposed to treating them for who they are- invading guerillas, foreign nationals taking unsanctioned criminal action in a foreign land.

And for Matt's desire of change, he was slain. Shot in the back of the head. The media won't say who shot him, they may not even know. But for someone who desires the reduction and removal of gangs in their town, does it really take a genius to offer a guess?

I am sad for the loss of this young man. Even if I disagreed with his politics, which admittedly I don't know, I nonetheless mourn a man who tried to do the right thing in an inspiring way. I can only hope another like him takes his place.

UPDATE (9/4): The FBI and California state investigative services have thrown their weight into the search and manhunt, and witnesses have reported the identity of the assassin, a latino or light skinned black male, late teens early 20s, 5' 9" or about. The news repeats like a drum that the police are not ruling out assassination as motive, but in typical California style they won't use offensive language (a targeted assault, honest to God, is what I heard).

Holy Name protesters discover their uninteresting fate

http://www.nbc5.com/news/17338235/detail.html
All six of the protesters were fined $2,600 and sentenced to one year probation plus 30 days community service.
Part of me wishes that these jokers got some actual jail time for their offense, but there's another part of me that's smugly glad.
These self-righteous know-all protesters actually seek some sort of martyrdom for their cause, whether they actually want to stop injustice or just wreak havoc as these jerks did. Jail time would have been a sort of martyrdom for them. Then, their few friends could say, "Oh, look how the big bad government and the big bad church have made our brothers suffer. We can't stand for this!"
Instead, five of the six protesters had to beg for extra time to pay off their fines. Hope you saved up all that money from your summer jobs and your pathetic theater gigs, kids. Wait! You didn't, and had to beg the system you despise so very much for more time.
You know what else is great? That you came off like weak-willed weasels when all your pathetic backers kept demanding mercy from the church and the government. So, let me get this straight. These hacks were willing to go wreak havoc but were not willing to pay a price?
Some martyrs they are. Maybe they should have gone the Thích Quảng Đức route. That'll show 'em.
Good luck with your community service, kids. Hope no one throws anything at ya while you're picking trash off the Eisenhower.

Lunch at the Firing Range

Sometimes you can be reminded that you are in a unique job, and even if you no longer want to work there you still can point to the cool things about the place of employment.

My employer decided to have a 'sales event' wherein he invited several, er, like minded individuals and we all went out for lunch, then convened... on a firing range. Yes.

The last time I fired a weapon I was in college, and that was one day. The last time I fired a weapon with any regularity was 24 years ago, same weapon- .22 rifle.

There were eight of us. Half of the individuals involved brought their weapons, and we dropped an hour target shooting. I was able to fire three different types of pistols- a .357 revolver, a .45 semi-automatic, and a smaller-caliber semi-automatic that was arguably the best weapon to fire.

I can hear the peanut gallery now. No. No one is dead as a result of me stepping to the firing line.

There was significant muzzle flash from the .357, but I preferred to shoot it. The semi-automatics were less accurate, or at least I found them to be. And the ejected shells from the semi-autos rained like heavy brass confetti. One of the party was a former pistol instructor, so I got a freebie instruction from a pro on how to fire. Not surprisingly, I did fairly well the first time out as a result.

Afterwards, I contemplated doing that as a hobby. It has a high introductory cost: the weapon itself is at least hundreds, the license, and the schooling (because I won't own a weapon without being fully aware of how to maintain it). But once past that, you're really only paying for ammunition and cleaning supplies.

One thing's for sure- shooting firearms is not for the jittery. It didn't give me the "sense of power" that it gives alot of people, but then I wasn't shooting to destroy. I was shooting for accuracy. And it was muy fun.

Chicago's long nightmare is over

http://www.chicagotribune.com/business/chi-080826mariotti-resigns,0,1339701.story
Jay Mariotti, long-time coward and general blemish to humanity, resigned from the Chicago Sun Times this evening.
I've disliked this douchebag for a long time. His hypocrisy, cowardice and blatant plagiarism have long plagued Chicago sports journalism.
Essentially, this guy's shtick was to be a complete contrarian, even if it meant angering a lot of folks. That in itself isn't so bad. But his complete refusal to even confront the folks he wrote about in person took away from his severely limited credibility.
You can't have much "courage of conviction" if you don't have the courage to face the people you criticize.
To me, the difference between journalists and folks like us lowly bloggers is the amount of access you have. Any no-talent hack can copy and paste AP quotes and steal stuff from a beat writer. Hell, Deadspin does that all the time, and I like Deadspin.
Mariotti, allegedly, is a journalist. To have the amount of access he did and not actually interview folks either by phone or face to face is a disservice to journalism.
Hell, even on the rare occasions he did interview someone, he made himself the focus of the story. Oh, look at Jay and what a courageous individual he is.
Mariotti had more feuds with colleagues and local athletes than a gangster rapper typically has over an entire career. He got run out of Denver for calling John Elway a "greedy, scared punk." Of course, there's his beefs with Ozzie Guillen, Ken Harrelson and Jerry Reinsdorf. More recently, he accused his former Sun Times colleagues of being soft.
Funny, considering they actually spoke to the people they wrote about from time to time.
To my fellow Chicago sports fans, I raise a toast with you tonight. Good bye and good riddance to the city's long nightmare. May what passed for Mariotti's career rest in pieces.

The Bunny Chronicles: Takin' it back

It's been over a week since I returned from my too-short vacation, and still, the rotten little beast has found new ways to either amuse me or tick me off.
I returned home on the 17th in the early evening. While on vacation, my sister texted me, regaling me with tales of the beast's cuteness. My mom went with my sister to my apartment to take care of the beast when I wasn't there. One of the rabbit's new tricks is to rest on my slippers when I'm not wearing them. Of course, my mom and sister saw this and immediately thought this was the cutest thing they'd ever seen. "Oh, she misses you!" my sister said.
If she only knew.
So, yeah. I got in the door, luggage in hand. First thing the beast does? She grabs her food dish with her teeth and throws it on the floor of the cage, dumping all her food there.
Great.
So, in my limited wisdom, I thought, "Hey, she can't spill the food dish if she doesn't have a food dish." So, I removed the food dish from her cage, opting instead to leave her pellet food on a plastic cage shelf thing. This still allowed her to eat the pellets, but she had no dish to throw around anymore.
I thought I'd solved the rabbit food waste problem.
Once again, I was wrong.
A few days ago, I'd noticed there was a large amount of pellet food on the floor just outside her cage. "How did that get there?" I wondered.
That question was answered yesterday. After work, I looked in her cage and saw she'd hopped onto the shelf. While hopping up there, she'd managed to knock a lot of food out of the cage, onto the floor.
Can't win for losin'.
Also last week, I let the rabbit out of her cage for a short time one morning. She made a beeline for the same section of stereo wire she'd previously destroyed, gnawing through it lickety-split. She hopped away as soon as she noticed that I saw her.
At least now I know how to fix stereo wire somewhat quickly.
Rotten little beast.

Gamers Taking it on the Chin for Humor

Please read below for Bill's review of the IL justice system's gradual release of the sub-human things that protested to disrupt an Easter mass.

Being a fan of D&D, Fantasy Football, and neutral on Obama, I've been pointed to, well, some snarky opinions from those without.

http://www.prospect.org/csnc/blogs/tapped_archive?month=08&year=2008&base_name=_protesting_too_much

http://graphjam.com/2008/08/20/song-chart-memes-before-they-were-fantasy-football-commissioners/

Newton's third law as it relates to anarchist nutjobs

http://www.wbbm780.com/Holy-Name-Protesters-Given-Extra-Time-to-Pay-Fines/2822353
About five months ago, these so-called Catholic Schoolgirls took it upon themselves to protest the Iraq war at Easter mass at Holy Name Cathedral in Chicago.
Thankfully, these weasels were not able to worm their way completely out of legal problems. Seems they've plead guilty to misdemeanor charges and agreed to pay a fine. They're supposed to be sentenced a week from now.
Shockingly, they haven't been able to raise the money necessary to pay the fines. I suppose when you attack an institution that was already publicly against the Iraq war, that could cost you some friends.
I'm not a good Catholic. At all. Don't pray much.
So, tonight I pray: Dear God, please do not let these little leftwing bitches get out of the trouble they've brought upon themselves. Please let them truly know the meaning of your son's words, "Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's." And render unto them a nice, big inmate at 26th and California who needs a Catholic schoolgirl for release.
All in thy name.
Amen.

The Bunny Chronicles: A Guest Column

Bill is away at GenCon, and since I have little of interest to write about, I decided I'd guest write an episode of the bunny chronicles without his permission. I'm uniquely qualified to do this for two reasons: 1) I like rabbits, 2) I hate Bill. So with no ado about this, here we go.
-------------------------------------
A couple of days ago, I left the bunny and selfishly went to a stupid gaming convention. It wasn't the responsible or even the smart decision, but I am generally a masochist and so, oddly, I looked forward to the abuse and suffering I would endure upon my return.

The beast waited patiently for me, and behaved for everyone that took care of it. I couldn't be more relieved. I figure that if the bunny truly had a deep wellspring of hate, I would be noble and prevent others from seeing it. But the beast is cunning.

I spent more money than I had saved at the convention. Since I no longer have a credit rating and my car was repossessed, I was forced to turn tricks to earn cash for my swag. That I didn't shower was not a problem because at gaming conventions most of my clients don't shower, either. But I'm not hooked on anything, its not like that. I just needed 5 bucks for that Yu-Gi-Oh card with the mostly naked babe in battle with the tentacle monster. The point is I had alot of swag, and I intended most of it to be destroyed by the beast.

The beast was all too happy to oblige. When I had opened the door on my return the bunny had shaken open her cage and ran straight to me. Thinking it missed me, I bent down to catch it, or at least stop it. Instead, it went straight for my swag. I was beside myself. After all, even though I knew it's exactly what would happen I didn't expect the rabbit to ignore me. But then most people ignore me so I shouldn't really be surprised.

I bent down to grab the beast, hoping to save some of the swag for later destruction. The bunny saw the opening went I leaned to get her and ran right through my legs, out into the hall and stopped. When I mumbled about how clever the bunny was, she bolted again for the stairwell. I could have sworn it flipped me the bird. I tried to find it, but it was gone. I was so distraught that I finished the bottle of Mad Dog I had in my fridge, and went to sleep crying.

When I woke up the next morning, the bunny was in the cage again, hanging off the wire and screaming bunny obscenities and thrusting bunny poop onto my carpet.

I love my rotten little beast.

The bunny chronicles: Adventures in Bunnysitting

On Wednesday morning, I leave for GenCon, something I like to call the most wonderful time of the year.
Begrudgingly, I had to find someone take care of the rotten little beast while I'm in Indianapolis. If nothing else, continued feeding of the rabbit will ensure a better stew later.
My sister agreed to come over for two days while I'm out of town. So, early yesterday morning, she visited the apartment to experience the rotten little beast first hand.
Luckily, the beast was in true rotten form.
She hopped out of the cage and investigated a bit, wondering who the new person was. Then she bolted under the bed when my sister tried to pet her.
This presented a good chance for me to demonstrate how to get her back in the cage. I moved the bed back and forth several times, and eventually the beast emerged. Instead of returning to the cage, the beast decided to run a victory lap around the apartment, and then went back under the bed.
This greatly entertained my sister, who then started using the same curse words I've used since taking ownership of the beast.
Finally, we managed to corner the beast and steer her back into the cage.
Thankfully, my sister knows of the rabbit's escape exploits, and has learned how necessary it is to secure the cage.
Soon, soon, I'll have a vacation from the rabbit. With my luck, she'll chew through the cage and destroy everything in the apartment.
Rotten little beast.

Flame Out

Have you ever been flying and had your engine flame out within 5 minutes following takeoff? I have.

http://www.nbcactionnews.com/news/local/story.aspx?content_id=c50c4bd9-4651-4eab-9a07-f242cb0c6928&rss=764

http://www.thedenverchannel.com/news/17083436/detail.html?rss=den&psp=news

I can say that I felt an unsettling shake in the plane. My first reaction was that it was one of three things: the flaps, the landing gear, or the engine. When it did, the main lights in the cabin went out and the plane stopped shaking. There was an eerie silence. The passengers on the faulty engine's side of the plane were all glued to their windows, so I saw nothing.

Eventually, one person pressed the call button. Another followed, then another.

In two minutes that felt like an eternity, the passenger started to grow restless. No one knew what had happened, what was happening. The cockpit audio channel had been shut off. The guy sitting next to me wondered out loud if we were in trouble.

I cannot say that I saw fire or smoke. The windows were covered with people trying to see the engine. We could make out that we were turning, slowly, in one direction. I knew that the plane was capable of operating with one engine (and was), so I wasn't really worried. Nevertheless, every second that went by with no word increased the tension.

Finally, after a few minutes, the pilot came on and told us there was a problem with the engine that we were going back to KC. The purser on the flight then gave a comical (darkly comical) announcement about how everything was fine because the captain said so. So we're fine. 'Cuz he said so. She was serious; I found it funny that she was nervous and trying very poorly to hide it.

Anyway, we made it on the ground okay, to see fire trucks and the like. The captain said "don't worry about them, that's just part of procedure- there's no fire." Some people claimed they smelled smoke, but it couldn't be smoke from the wing engine smelled inside the cabin. Occassionally I smell a little combustion smell at the start of the air system, but I know that's not smoke.

Everything ended up fine, just costing us almost an extra day to get home and me an additional vacation day.

The experience was... interesting.

The bunny chronicles: cell phone charger, stereo wire and a prison break

One of the things I learned the hard way with this rabbit is to never, ever, ever let her get near any wires unsupervised. She can chew through them very quickly.
I discovered this about 12 days ago. After getting out of her cage, she hopped near a table with my cell phone charger and a stereo speaker on it. Both had wire either plugged in or otherwise within biting range.
A short time later, I went looking for her. I noticed several small, thin pieces of black cord on the floor. I looked at the beast, and I swear she knew she was in trouble. I looked at that cord, then at my cell phone charger, realizing she'd destroyed it. A few yelled curse words later, and the damn thing darted under my bed.
She didn't get out of the cage for a while after that.
A short time later, I found out she chewed through stereo wire connecting to one of my speakers.
The cell phone charger was a total loss, so I ordered a new one online.
I was able to fix the speaker wire by stripping the ends the beast chewed through. I twisted the wire ends together and secured it with electrical tape.
After this, I found any loose wires in my apartment and wrapped them up, either using rubber bands or twist ties. This seems to have deterred the beast in her quest for destruction.
More recently, while the beast was out and about, I offered her a small piece of cardboard. She plays with it like it's the best thing she ever had. She gnaws on it happily and tosses it about her cage.
Go figure.
Before leaving for work last night, I let the beast out of her cage again. We have something of a routine now: she hops around for a bit, goes somewhere she knows she'll cause trouble, then darts under the bed to get away from me. When I want her to go back in the cage, I'll move the bed back and forth until she goes to her cage.
I could swear I closed the cage door after she went back.
The reason I mention this is because she chews on the cage bars. She props herself up on her hind legs, latches onto the cage door with her front paws, and shakes the cage.
So, I got ready for work, then I look and see her cage door open. I could swear I closed it.
Naturally, the beast went under my bed again. So, I again chased her back into the cage.
This time, I secured the cage door with some twist ties. For added measure, I propped my toolbox up against the door.
I really think she got out on her own. She's plotting her escape and my destruction even now, as I type this from work.
Rotten little beast.

Hyperbole: The Internet Dickwad Theory

http://www.pennyarcademerch.com/pat070381.html
I try not to ascribe to hyperbole, but I have noticed it has a home. It festers, as disease-bearing entities often do, in seedy places not meant for the faint of heart. And sadly, it is becoming a method accepted in the vacuum of rational thought for conveying sentiment.
I speak, of course, about comments on the internet.
To me, the comments section and a Tijuana back alley are conceptually equivalent. People that exist there try to goad dim on-lookers into fights, others proclaim loudly who are smug in their power, others act as little jesters tittering away at something silly, and still others try in the face of all these to hold rational discussion without being assaulted.
It is the "man on the street" interview given more time and having no repercussions.
Not surprisingly, very very little of value is communicated in these fora. Oh sure, there may be some rudimentary grading system allowing the stronger voices to be understood. But this is no more than the biggest bouncer on the corner. Sycophants wish they were that strong, or had the ability to project themselves that well. Haters, well, they hate.
One could argue this is good for America, the ability to let go of decades of pent-up frustration at not being heard by those in power. But the therapy ends with the person typing, for only you believe 100% of what you believe. Even strong dogmas have people that stray from the main narrative.
I argue that this "blame the other" method of discourse is damaging. People who feel compelled to shoot other citizens for their beliefs are criminals. Organizations who feel compelled to shoot other citizens for their beliefs change the body politic. It's loosely known as war. Yet this is how war starts, with leaders falsely believing that they must villify one group and be themselves considered victims. Eventually one leader makes a call to take up arms, and if that leader is powerful enough, the followers will do just that. If the targets defend themselves, it's war- if not, it's genocide. Either way, it's hell.
But if we can't sit across from people with whom we disagree- strongly, violently disagree- and explain ourselves in a calm and rational manner in an attempt to gain understanding, then how are we different from a pack of chimps seeking to ostracize an outsider?
Right now a leader need not lead people to their visions away from the center. The leaders are so far away from the center that there is division amonst the populace. That is the flaw with leaders nowadays- they must be myopic, shortsighted, and deliver hyperbolic campaign rhetoric in order to continue to suckle at the public teat. These are the leaders America complains about. Until Americans can truly at their core accept a unifying force with whom they disagree but know that their input is considered and allowed to influence decision, flawed leaders will be what America continues to get.

Life is short

This is a blog for rants. This one is a gripe against the world. Sorry for the "bummer-ness" of this one.

I googled to find the email of an old computer-chemistry buddy of mine, Fred Arnold, with hopes he'd have time to share some the warm yet frank career advice I remember from my grad school days. I was shocked to learn that he passed away at the young age of 40, due to cancer.

[Fred, in case you get internet connection wherever you are, I'll never forget your tales of hiking though stinking jungles for hours on end with over 30 lbs of antiquated photographic equipment on your back for the sole purpose of capturing a lizard on film. ... And in case you don't get internet, I'm sure you'd prefer for me to stop.]

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Today is a day after my birthday, 3 weeks after surgery. And I learn an old work chum, only 7 years my senior, is gone. One phrase dominates my thoughts: life is short.

No wonder I cried when I was born! Sometimes the world is pretty harsh. ... Maybe it's not fair to rant about stuff that truely is beyond anyone's control--if so, this is my last post of the ilk. ... That being so, it's probably my last chance to complain about sunburn. Sunburn sucks.

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It appears I don't have time for 1-2 hours of computer solitare every day. The world is telling me I've got to change. And it's also telling me that my education isn't as important as my judgement. Time to start seeing clearly and make the right decisions.