May 12, 2006

           [Author's note 2016-05-12: here is another "calendar list" entry, and a picture of a rate type of rainbow in Idaho. It forms when ice crystals in the cloud line up. I think it because the water droplets are slightly polar and as the air cools coming over the Rockies, freezes while it is aligned with the Earth's magnetic field. But I'm no expert, for all I know the native tribes call it the fire rainbow and have a legend its a sign from the sky god. Or something.]

           I had to run a load of laundry first thing this morning and that should have tipped me of this would be a day of minor problems. Dani, the Jewish guy who looked at my AC unit was at the door. His computer crapped out and it sounds like that new compatibility problem with XP. He made an appointment for Sunday morning, it sounds simple but nobody wants to rush.
           From there, I went into the shop to find that my 10:00 was late. That is Jackie, the lady with the health spa gear for sale. I quickly discovered that eBay has closed down several features on my account because of inactivity and because they say they can’t verify much of the information that was given on startup. I had to check my PayPal amounts so I think I pissed them off by going in there anyway – I quickly figured out the “alternate email address” they ask for was a weak link in their security. Anyway, eBay is acting like they have a right to my information even though I am not asking them for anything that requires such data. They want the truth and the truth is my mother’s maiden name is none of their business. It's a name and nothing else, so the one I gave them is fine.

           Listen, you don’t have to read this and I’m warning you the whole day went about the same. I skipped lunch waiting for Jackie, who showed at noon and said she’d be back at 2:00 PM. She n ever made it. I used the time to update all of my advertising and swap out a few hard drives to try to recover my data. Fred also looked on the net but he cannot find any solution.
           That lady with the nice legs was in, I gave her a free mini-lesson on using her email. Now she is my type, except that if she is interested at all she does not show it. Fantastic figure and great legs, she reminds me of Mrs. Hammond, a lawyer’s wife I knew when I was growing up. Cancel that, I am still growing up. I used to baby-sit for them because they had such a fantastic library in their house. To this day I still recognize shells on the beach from reading their books.

           When I say not interested, I mean she is a cool customer. I’ve accidentally said things that she could have picked up on, like “I’d have to take your disk home to process it.” She likes me and respects my knowledge but she won’t even joke about such things. Pity. Ah, remember Martha? The lady with the six-year-old. They came in today for the introduction and he is exactly where I was at the same age. Except of course that his parents are plainly not trying to stifle his abilities.
           I think his name was Danny. He has just as serious a look about him but he has a confidence I never dreamed of – the knowledge that his parents are solidly behind him. Martha asked his opinions and actually listened. I am not used to such things. I always had to operate on the premise that my parents would come in on the side against me. He is clearly already a sharp kid and he just met me, the one person who probably knows better than anyone else what a sharp kid needs to know that others can’t teach him. I just need one good student to create an artificial demand for my tutoring.

           On the way home I dropped in to see Dickens, who wants me to mind the store for him for ten days in July. I don’t know if I can help him, I have to keep the momentum up with my own people. I showed him Enrique’s loveseat, but his seasoned eye showed me all the little things wrong with it I had overlooked. Small worn areas on the cushions and such. It wound not be worth selling through the store.
           While I was there and talking about my trailer, that hefty lady from the end apartment came in. She heard me and pointed out that no lady would ever go out with me because I lived in a trailer. Interesting thing to hear from a broad who has done time for check-forging, is thirty pounds overweight, lives on welfare and hasn’t had a steady boyfriend in six years.
           Next, the car is acting up. It is a knocking noise that comes and goes but gets worse when I pull up to a light and idle. I’ve heard this before and just cannot recall what causes it. I seem to remember it costs $200 to fix it. I did some work at the house for two hours. I know what I forgot to record. The video tapes. Everything turned out perfect and the tile and slate man was quite pleased. This is an excellent little side business that takes good advantage of the storefront. Fred doesn’t mind taking them in at all, it is kind of easy and no doubt leads to other business. It brings the right kind of people in the door.

           Then, Diane5 calls back. We have a problem. Okay, first of all, I did use her scanner – because it took up the place on my desk where I wanted to put my newer, better unit. Of course, I cranked a couple cable into it an used it – the scanner, not the printer. She was supposed to take in back in February and I told her I can’t store things for people. When she called, I told her it was a surprise to learn she wanted it back.
           Somewhere along the line, one of the cartridges began to leak. I instantly took it out and threw it away. They are no good when they leak and you waste ink trying to refill them. However, I never used the printer part, just the scanner. Well, I told her I was considering buying that one from her and seeing if I could get something else. Turns out I did, a nice heavy duty HP. So I took her Lexmark back y’day and hooked everything up. Of course, it did not print. There is no ink and one cartridge is missing.
           She phones and wants that empty cartridge. I told her she can come an get it, because I could not drive out to her place to give her an empty cartridge to prove that her printer does not work. You can’t test the printer without both cartridges She is trying to get a free cartridge out of me, or get me to take this scanner back and give her a newer one. I told her if she did that, I would have to charge her for storage for seven months.
           Who needs this? I grabbed the bass and drove to the beach, the car stalled as I pulled into a parking space. We played a bunch of 1950s hits since that was the nature of the room tonight. Some tasty blues and older near-country starting off with "Stand By Me" that had them dancing in the aisles. Like any musicians, and I’m not kidding, the Hippie does not know how to play Happy Birthday the right way, but we faked it and pulled in enough business to pay our ticket. We did a great rendition of "Sweet Home Alabama" and stopped the crowd with "Come Together". That one is odd because without a drummer, we have to play slightly off beat to make it sound right and the Hippie does not realize I am doing that.

           The car started and I am back home. It is 11:00 at night. I’m drinking coffee. A lot of people passing by will dance on the pavement and obviously enjoy our music. This is not usual on the Broadwalk, I know for I lived right near there for a year. When I rag on the Hippie for only playing old and obscure music, others are even worse. Pedestrians don’t tip or buy pizza, however, and it is imperative that something be done about the income if I’m going to play at all. I am neither making money or meeting women at the places we play.
           HWB has eight tables inside and four outside. These have never been full, even at the height of the busy season. There are also ten bar stools that maybe three get used. There is no regular crowd. All this could be due to the partially unique situation on that stretch of beach. The locals just don’t like to pay $28 for a pizza and a can of soda. I know that I wouldn’t. The Broadwalk is good for a stroll, exercise or romantic, but not a place you go to shop. Everybody is hurting and it is a direct consequence of outrageous prices, all of which start with high rents that are not justified by the condition or location. The sole justification for prices seems to be some kind of space shuttle logic that everything should cost more on the beach.

           Except for a few of the saloons on a weekend, none of these places is ever full. Yet there are always three or four new places opening up, all with expensive but tacky décor and $10 prices. Nor is the walking free because it costs a dollar an hour to park your car, and Lord help you, don’t be a minute late. While admitting that any business in Florida is preferable to a minimum wage job, the vast majority of shops on the Broadwalk have been there for decades. While I am quick to agree that the small independent shop is one of the most expensive and inefficient ways of moving merchandise, I’d rather see those than a chain store.
           A recent survey shows that 36% of all coffee shops in South Florida are Starbucks. I wonder how many of those are located in small towns? Probably none, I predict they would never get away with what they do in such a setting. You need a citified crowd to charge $3 for a tub of coffee-flavored substance hoping nobody will complain in front of strangers, or point out that a cup is 8 ounces and refills should be free.

           Ah, that could be the basis for my first published hack article. I could lambaste Starbucks without ever mentioning their name. Here are some out of sequence but very recent photos of my progressive paint job in the trailer. [The photos are missing.] It has to wait for available early mornings as the summer heat came on early again this year. Global warning in my front yard. You can see the paint difference between the first and second coats. I will have to redo it all later as this Colonial Green paint was on sale due to a defect; it runs thin and does not cover well. Remember, there is no law in Florida that says they cannot advertise defective merchandise on sale as if it were regular stock. I’m checking the [paint] drying rate, which is also incredibly long, it can stay tacky for two days.

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May 11, 2006

           It may not have been the most productive day in a while, but that just means I’m going to write in a way that compares it to what others got around to during the same time. I was up far too early so I read several chapters on networking followed by a chapter on punctuation by Simon and Shuster. I just know all my critics do that once in a while to brush up. Finally I made a sandwich with cheese, peanut butter and peach jam before I ran out the door.
           Did I say jam? You should have seen the traffic. Some gorf in an SUV, an easy call because only a gorf would drive something like that in a town like this, decided he was going to outrun the train. Actually we could not really tell it was an SUV until I walked up the other side of Dixie. I wrote all this to Cheryl later so expect duplication. Anyway, I wonder why cops all gather around accident sites. You can’t really arrest dead people, although I’m sure they’d like to be able to do that, too.
           I’m suggesting they like accidents. They can spend two hours waving their arms and directing traffic around it, then go home and complain what a hard day it was. There were at least eight of them around the wreck. Now, examine this picture, and take my word that the intersection at Hallandale Beach and Dixie (the railway runs down the middle of the divided Dixie Hwy) is a safe crossing. Six flashing lights, two striped barricades and plenty of signs. More flashing lights on the barricades.
           The train stopped in less than 200 feet, so it was not going that fast. Let me think. The barricade was down, so the driver must have tried to drive around it or under it because the train was moving so slow. That also means he was Cuban, that Latino macho thing. Either he stalled on the tracks or the person running the crossing ahead of him slammed on his brakes as soon as he got across. Cubans do that all the time also, once they get what they want, to hell with the next person in line.
           Don’t cry, it was only a matter of time. Such people would die anyway, likely from falling off the top rung of a stepladder or drowning in a kiddy pool. It is nature’s way of thinning the herd. I finally got over the rails at Pembroke and into Chip Tech an hour and 15 minutes late. Back at the shop my 9:30 student was understanding enough to laugh it all off. He is the second person who has asked for advanced email this month. By advanced, I mean little more than attachments, file types and organizing the folders. Most students are surprised to learn their email is not on their computer.
           At noon that lady Jackie came in to arrange a photo session at her storage bin, the one with $80,000 worth of health spa material. She brought her boyfriend. You know, she is a fascinating specimen because although she is short and plain, she has proportionately enormous and pendulous breasts. What I mean is that she has completely adapted herself and her personality to the fact and may not even be conscious although I doubt that. All her clothes show it, all her moves flaunt it, all her postures shove them in your face. Constantly. There is no way you are in the same room with Jackie without seeing the tops of her tits. Yet it is in a way that you could never prove a thing. Yes, fascinating.
           Two sets of tapes came in today. Remind me to run the ad again. I’m way tougher with the pricing, nobody gets anything for less than $18 per tape. I know what is involved so even copies are more these days, at $8 for the first and $5 after that. I like doing tapes, for example I make $18 writing this diary. If I had things lined up I would have two units in operation. That might be wishful because it would be a Sony and the first one is still giving me troubles.
           I did solve one problem, the disk full thing, as I knew I would eventually. When you get the message, the solution is to do the exact opposite of your intuition. Eject an unfinalized disk. This wrecks the disk for any other use, but if you slide it back in the machine and let it do the warmup thing, you can now finalize. In any other scenario, Sony wrecks the disk and I admit I chanced upon this solution by hitting the wrong button. It is phooey on Sony that one has to resort trial and error.
Two network jobs also came in. I’ll either have to learn networking software of find somebody who already has. I cannot answer questions about what changes when using standalone applications on a network. The lady asked if she could have Quickbooks set up in a way that she could monitor her employee’s work. I don’t know.
           This French couple came in with a good one. On dial-up, you can set your phone to alert you to an incoming call and drop the Internet if you wish to take it. Does anyone know how to do this? Is it something you set on your computer or on your phone or on both. I finally gave up and posted the question on CL.
           Aha, did I not predict it? MS has obviously been laying down tracks for years on catching people with pirated copies of Windows. That says it is more lucrative than lowering the price to a reasonable $29.95. Anyway, the last set of downloads after April 10 have a popup that says you may be a victim of counterfeiting. We have not yet determined if it is generic or only appears on some computers, but we most certainly already have the workaround to fix it. I would not object to the popup but I would certainly be against anyone using the Internet to examine the configuration of my computer. If the tactic works, expect a surge in demand for older Windows products lacking this “update”.
           Then, over to Diane5’s to finally solve that printer problem. It is working fine, just a few driver problems. Also, the older laptop is not good for much except CDs. The sound problem proved to be sneaky. There is an exposed button that turns it off without any signal or pilot light. She is now completely out of space, even the dogs have to go to a landing to turn around. I had to lie completely down on the bed to get at the equipment. Thus, barring Marion, my best friend, for the second time in my entire life I layed down on a bed with a woman and did not have sex with her. Hopefully, this was not a precedent. She is totally not my type yet it is becoming apparent I am exactly the type of man she may be looking for. One who can fix her things when they break.
           Anyway, I also managed to squeeze Enrique’s sofa into the car, sort through a pile of DVDs that had no labels and hook up the drive from the video computer to see if I could recover the data. I can’t. That is so typical of MS to even design a system where that could even happen.

May 10, 2006

           [Author's note: here is another "calendar" entry, redacted from notes for the month of May, 2006. You get wildly unconnected fragments of here and there. The IDF is "Israeli Defense Force", I have long forgotten who Cheryl is, and my comment that it is easy for rich kids to pretend they are smart. Those kids are far more exposed to which behavior elicits the "oohs" and "aahs" of people they quickly learn to impress. And the picture is on Java, the island that loves to explode yet millions like to live there.]

           Bob, my new guy was in today for an upbeat lesson on email. He is benefiting most from exact demonstrations that his email is not really on his computer and the material he sends and receives rarely tracks itself in a meaningful way. His mid-morning lesson is perfect for showing him that the email process is not instantaneous. He grasps these type of concepts rapidly and sometimes asks questions that are miles ahead of our position. Good, it shows that he will never go back to looking at computers the same way.
           Also, he is very quick to learn the things that go wrong, I was able to reinforce this all along, as he said he had worked in a government office. Now he knows that using computers at work does not make you a computer expert and can hinder you when you try things at home. It is okay to point out to Bob when things happen that I have no explanation for.

           He compliments me on a factor that I never rated as important. That is when I seem to know when a process has stalled or is misbehaving. I’ll click on a button and if nothing happens in the correct interval, I move on. This is nothing more than experience but he reminded me of the years it took me to get to that stage. He regularly asks me to back up and explain a decision that I gave no nevermind. He has progressed well into the middle-user grade in three lessons. Proof again that there is no substitute for private coaching when it comes to computers.
           Interestingly, he now knows what to watch for on-screen. It seems his government job showed him that monitoring screens is not a good alternative to walking over once in a while and looking the machine over. He finds the split screens particularly intriguing. This is where you put two identical runs up on the screen and note that they both show differences in information and timing. A lot of people should be shown this so they will quit blindly trusting what they see. He now knows to keep track of his outgoing email.

           His project, the heavily embroidered hat, is already growing extra legs. The Seattle outfit wants him to scan and send art-work. Hey, they should have told him about that expensive and tricky step before they got started. Plus, Bob is pro-American and did not appreciate them deciding to get the sewing done overseas. He wrote all the way to Seattle partly to avoid that situation.
           He brought in a training DVD that defied all copy attempts. It is some kind of super-secret (yeah, then why did they put it on a DVD) training manual from the IDF . Counter-terror and anti-terror things, and yes, the two are different. It was a pretty piece, but once I got it home, I had it copied in 5 minutes 24 seconds. It contains such gems as, “Attempt to put a bullet into the terrorist’s head as this is the only certain way to eliminate the terrorist threat” and (if your gun jams) “hit the terrorist with the barrel or butt of the gun because these are the only two parts that must be made of metal”.

           It is an interesting movie but in that occupation probably just common sense. For example, I always look with my eyes, not by turning my head. This is how most people determine what you are looking at. Hey, it is certainly something that should be done on the battlefield. Their tactics only work if the terrorist has not seen this DVD. Soldiers seem to love clearing buildings. Why? Surround the place and smoke them out. I suppose thinking is not what soldiering is all about.
           Good thing is stayed home and made baked ravioli. Five billion calories, but so what, my heart can take it. Seriously, I cut way back on the cheese and added more tomatoes. It was not vegetarian, but close. I made iced tea and some small treats while waiting for some of the processes I am investigating around movie editing. It is tricky but nothing to stop me. I’ve got several of the major steps down to a science. Too bad one of them isn’t that Video_TS format.
           I found out why Helene’s phone is not working. They have all decided to switch over to cellular. You know, I think cellular could very well be popular if the only reason was not having to ask others to borrow a phone. I got mine so I did not have to drive downtown to make a long distance call. I wonder how the new condo is doing, or was it a house she said. I can’t remember.

           Cheryl is a strange one, I think I’ll keep her on as a source of amusement. She is a great for information about our gigs and Glenn, who if he does bullshit about his lot in life, has obviously learned not to do too much of it around me. She reports that his ad says he has a BFA, which I take to mean a Bachelor of Fine Arts. I have no idea what that entails and see no difference in [the Hippie]’s behavior that I have not seen in people who’ve never set foot on a campus.
           Cheryl is constantly analyzing others, yet she seems to have no more than a teenage ability to do so. She is totally pragmatic against others and for herself though there is nothing uncommon about that. When I chided this Kathleen lady for being far too old to be using the “What’s your sign?” approach, Cheryl assumes it is because I don’t understand astrology. (False, my ex, Judy, knew all about it and still could not force things to go her own way all the time.) That kind of thinking is probably what has kept Cheryl in the bush league her entire life. She actually called it a “science” because it involved “calculations”.
           I used to wonder what it was like to go through life living in that kind of a fog. You know, where you think you’ve got it nailed down, you are right, and anything you don’t or failed to know can be muddled in mythical and mystical that anyone smarter than you is just too unemotional to understand. Where every last thing you have ever done tells you that you are a dumb bastard but you never learn. Where you believe that your cleverness in such matters is enough to best all opponents, and anyone who has the facts has failed to understand the human side – toward which you are particularly sensitive. I say I used to wonder. Now I write such dipshits off.

           When Cheryl insults you, she does so almost directly by sliding it into a sentence that is otherwise inert. For instance, that I am bullheaded enough to argue with the Hippie. You could take that either way. Now, in return, I’ll often describe a situation and finish the thing with “Do you know anybody like that?” Oh, she hates it when I do that, but hey, she started it.
           In virtually every case, I had just described something she just did to a tee. Yet, where I would expect a cynical remark in keeping with her character, her response seems to be that I must certainly be talking about somebody else. Wrong. I don’t know anybody else in her world except Glenn. What I do like to point out to her (and anyone like her) is the dozens of occasions where I have solved one of their problems by duplicating the thinking that got them into the jam. The object being to emphasize that I have the “conscious option of adapting my thinking to any mode which better suits the situation”. Thus, anytime I determine that the way you think is better, I can easily switch it on. I notice, however that a lot of people cannot, in return, think the way I do even when the situation warrants it and they try damn hard to do so. “Do you know anybody like that?”

           A lady called Martha came in today. She has a six-year-old who is a computer whiz. Why are we not surprised? I took a quarter-hour and discussed the facts with her. I was going to say no, that the child was too young to benefit from my methods. Then, she connected. She described a situation that made me realize my heart or what is left of it still had strings. The kid was being held back by the system. He was gifted in narrow ways, but there were no adults with the patience or skills to bring him along at full speed.
           They tried putting him in special classes but quickly found out those classes are full of rich kids who are only pretending to be smart. They gave him special homework, but it was child-oriented and he lost interest instantly. They wanted him to be a different and funny kind of smart, kid smart where he has long since concluded that adults are not all that great a source of good information. The school is trying to channel his performance to out-dated standards, something I know an awful lot about. Martha had tried to help him with his homework and found that he already knew more about what he was interested in than she did. Mercifully unlike my parents, she admitted it and came for help.
           Thinking it over, I am willing to try. She understands that my teaching does not always work for everyone and that I do not baby-sit. On the other hand, after a short while with me, I do produce genius brats. (Make sure you like me, however, for they begin to act and think like me.) I also create teachers who think the kid didn’t do the work himself. I added that effectiveness on a computer is not a matter of memorizing commands, but an overall approach to using a sophisticated tool.

           She is to talk this over with her husband and call me back. I know all about being held back by ignorant adults and being refused knowledge over the assumption that I was as stupid as they were at my age. I know about the school system and its favorites and pets and the effect of personalities on high or low marks. I know all about forbidden knowledge and how hard adults can make it to find out anything they don’t think you “should” know. I know what it is like to waste years of youth on an idea I thought was original because no grown-up had the guts to tell me what I needed to know. (“If I teach you how to drive a car how do I know you won’t go steal one?” or “You can learn all that after you are 21.”)
           And most, I know about the horrendous cost of having to learn things on my own that I could and should have been permitted to learn for free as a child. I was held back and trained not to think. I was punished for trying to start a business rather than work for somebody else. I was charged tremendous emotional prices for things I did not know I had a right to demand. I did not even know what a special needs child was until I was over 25 and by then it was too late. I remember being denied books by ignorant small town librarians. I remember being forced to do things the wrong and ignorant way or being forced to do without. These are not natural things to force upon a child. Maybe I can help this kid. If I can, of course, the price goes up.

           She also has to consider the commitment, that I need the full time to completely teach a broad spectrum of knowledge; things that I know first hand to be severely inadequate in the public school system. That I have to plug gaps and often encounter damage that needs undoing. My training sessions for children are two hours at a time and conducted at a pace most adults would find exhausting. Only half the time is on the computer and no games are allowed even on the breaks.
           I see that there is an inspector doing the rounds in the trailer court. Always a white guy who thinks he is tough or a black lady who thinks she is above criticism. I only noticed him because he was filling in a report on some guy who had “a dryer hooked up” in his trailer. I had not realized that was forbidden but nor did I read the rules before moving in. I think such inspection is wrong.
           Ah, I did not say that all inspection was wrong. Inspect my car anytime, but inspecting the inside of my house is morally wrong, even if you do so indirectly or from the outside. (How did the bastard know there was a dryer in the house?) I’ve heard all the counter-arguments about how else are we going to make sure people obey the rules and I tell you that you have no business making rules for what people do inside their own home in the first place. If they do something that affects the public, catch them in public. I don’t care for arguments about how else are we going to make people obey the laws because such laws invade privacy. That, if you have not already guessed, is something I despise. How will you police your neighbors? I’m willing to let people go to a screaming, hand-wringing, writhing and sweaty early grave with that single searching question unanswered.

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May 9, 2006

           [Author's note 2016-05-11: this picture is one of those news-breaking 2006 stories that just as suddenly disappeared from the media. It's claimed to be a step pyramid found in Bosnia. It would represent the oldest pyramid known, predating the Egyptians by centuries. Dated at around 12,000 years, a team of Egyptian experts was brought in to examine the ruins. At that moment, for reasons unknown, nothing has been heard about this discovery since. Not a peep.
          You can read the story here, but National Geographic is not generally known for publishing hoaxes. Boring-as-hell articles with great pictures, yes, but not hoaxes.]

           [Author's note 2021-05-07: the story on this pyramid and all links have long since disappeared. The original link was National Geographic, where it is very rare for any story to just evaporate into thin air. But this one did.

           This day was dedicated to a video project, and it was a failure. No big deal, you get that sometimes. I took the Pirates reunion disk and went all over it with both Roxio, where I managed to get the audio to play back on both channels and the video of session 2 onto the hard drive (where it can be edited). Session 1 is holding out, I can view it but not copy it.
           I just hate to have to admit it, but video editing has been turned into a total abortion by the manufacturers. It is plain by this late date that they have not learned you cannot do business the old ways any more. There are separate and incompatible software processes for the cameras, the images on the camera, downloading the images, image storage, image retrieval, image manipulation and so on. None of these, as far as I can tell, do things in the same format, and I have discovered some that won’t even read the files they create without making careful changes.

           The remainder of the day was tackling the networking. The way it works, there is no clear starting point. By that, I mean if I was to explain it to you, it would be difficult not to have to sidetrack and cover other items, such as how your printer driver was originally set up and what name you gave your computer, if any.
           There are numerous blind alleys and outdated instructions, plus an annoying number of messages that appear on screen which are not explained, for instance when you go to shut down, you are also shutting down anyone else that may have been logged on. What are you supposed to do? Go find them? Save their work for them? Or say to hell with it and shut ‘er down? All three would get you into the hot tank at the phone company.
           I’ve read close to 600 pages on the matter, most of which in true MS fashion overexplains the basics and goes into useless histories obsolete things. Does anyone using wireless even care what materials are used in co-ax cable?

           This turkey came in the shop for Mike to look at his laptop. He had some cockamamie idea that wireless worked right out of the box. The sad part is that sometimes it does. He had one Linksys computer that would not work – where have we seen this before? I say a turkey because he thought he knew more about computers than all of us put together. Mike is laptops, not wireless. I am software. He actually said to Mike, “You shouldn’t mess around with people’s computers unless you know what you are doing”.
           My advice was to send him to that new store up the street, Bay Six Computers. Tell him there is a real pro over there that knows exactly how to fix his problem. Let him drive them out of business. That statement about "mess around" has already become a stock joke around the shop whenever something goes wrong.
           It was an evening of intensive study and it has given me second thoughts as to claims made by others about home networking. This has convinced me that their main method is trial and error and that they are flying blind whenever the unusual occurs. Whenever I can’t get a straight answer out of a tech, I know I am in for this kind of drawn out research. Thus, you may safely conclude that networking is like all other aspects of the computer world – you can’t really study it in isolation.

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May 8, 2006

           “A fool can fill up more disk space than a wise man can answer.” Me, 2006
           I spent half the day getting the printer network working. This can get a little complicated. The network has a quirk I can’t figure out yet, when for no reason it simply renames about half the computers on the network to workgroup to “MSHOME”. These computers can no longer share the laser printer. Furthermore, when you go to reset them, the browser does not work right.
           The other half of the day, I was at the doctor’s office. You will never guess the results. I died. No, seriously, it appears I have recovered completely from the heart attack. No more expensive Plavix, instead I am to take 81 mg of aspirin per day. Incredible good news.
           Back home, I got a technician named Dani to look at the air conditioner. It had been sabotaged, and that jives with other reports I’ve heard that Enrique and his roommate were not getting along. Somebody had opened the unit, stabbed through the Freon lines and replaced the cover. That means a new unit, since recharging is too expensive.
           In return, I installed some anti-virus programs in his computer and caught six worm viruses just in time. He was happy, and did mention that he knew a lot of computer techs but had never met one with as much knowledge of the processes as myself. Really? Well, I can fool some of them all of the time.
           Long lost Harold, my original student, was in for a lesson today. He needed a brushup on how numbers can be used as text on a spreadsheet. He’s got some kind of new job where being up on these skills keeps him ahead of the pack and he plainly knows my tutoring is a good job investment. Especially since I’m still charging him only the $15 per hour special from when I started.
           People donate things at the shop. Here’s a set of disks by Systemax called “Ultimate Software Collection”. I don’t care for it, too many of the useful modules such as the maps require an Internet connection. This has to happen once in a while and I happen to think such disks should require warning labels.
           I reviewed a few of the other disks to get an idea of what some people would consider as ultimate. There must still be untold millions out there who do not know that a giraffe has a long neck or that a Duck-billed Platypus has a bill like a duck. Quick, sell them some software. Who knows, they might study material on a computer that they failed to learn from a book. There is an atlas (minus the maps) and a 1998 World Facts sheet to tempt them away from interactive games and porno.
           However, the biggest waste is always the dinosaur animations. This velociraptor thing makes the rounds every ten years. My biggest beef is the naming conventions. You can’t blame the people who started it all in the 1800’s because Latin was part of their education, but whoever decided to keep it as a standard needs to be on the receiving end of a cattle prod. Call it anything as long a people can relate to it.
           My plan was to give you a list of the dinosaur names and see if you could remember any of them for five minutes but I see they’ve used the old Compton’s trick, where only the index installs on your computer. You have to chase around for the CD to use it. Tell you what, take a good guess at which software collection is going to get the ultimate uninstall from my computer.

May 7, 2006

           [Author's note 2016-04-07: this is another calendar transcript, obviously I was in a cranky mood, which happens when you have to work every day. While it follows the order of events after I finished work, it's clear I was not happy. Ugly women should not invade my personal space when I'm like that. I have very low tolerance for certain people and that goes double when they think they have a right to get away with it.
           I never did make it to Seattle in 2006. So here is a picture from 2006. It's a restored Supermarine Spitfire, an aircraft designed and built in Britain during a period they were supposed to be disarming. It scared the hell out of the Germans, who were the only country that signed the Treaty of Versailles that actually did disarm. The British and French kept expanding their military, thus breaking the treaty long before Germany began to re-arm. The British and French also signed an alliance with Poland, another thing they promised not to do.
           Poland, thus bolstered, blockaded the German port of Danzig, thus beginning World War II seven months before the Germans finally attacked. The Poles initially laughed, thinking Germany would be crushed from all sides.]

           The tires are on and that is another story, a somewhat expensive one. It is just noon and I’ve been all over town already due to things I put off over those tires. The need was there, I had the money but until I found a place open Sunday I could not spare the car.
           I’m glad I did. Remember that camber problem I’ve documented over the last few years? How there was no specs from the manufacturer (Ford) to fix them? How the car ate a set of perfectly good tires every six months? Turns out it was not the camber at all. I paid a premium to get it up on the hoist, arguing that even if the problem could not be totally fixed, that getting even close would be better than the way is was. Sure enough, the camber was fine.
           This fooled everyone earlier because the wheels were obviously slanted outward at the bottoms. Plain to see and no reason to look further. I still don’t have a scanner hooked up, but the computer printout shows a negative number well into the danger zone. They repaired everything and I tell you the car rides smooth as the Caddy right now. I even bumped into the G who wants me at the beach later today. Yeah, so he can play 15 minute lead breaks to the drumbox – guitarists are so predict able
.
           Anyway, some readers may be wondering why I wasted a picture showing my car up on jacks with the tires missing. This is Florida. Yes, but the difference is that I paid somebody to take the tires off. This picture is at the garage, not in my driveway. I hopped over to Coffeetime for a bagel and legs was in this morning. Why does such a beautiful woman not have guys hanging around all the time?
           I finally took a mallet and knocked that rusted out planter thingee off the front of my trailer. It was hopelessly falling apart. The Home Depot dude says that deck lumber will work fine as a replacement. I’m also going to paint the lower half of the trailer Colonial Green. It is my mostest favorite-est color in the whole world and not only that, it was on sale for only $12.50 a gallon. Seriously, the whole trailer is painted a flat white, including the things that aren’t to be painted. Like the clearance lights.

           I am really in no rush with this project. Give me credit for taking it slow, this is Florida. The system here is geared to punishing people who do things fast and I’m not referring to the way you drive. Out west, you drop something and it breaks. In Florida, they will trip you, it will fall and stub your toe, then bounce up and take out your eye, then fall and break. If you reach to rub your toe, you will bang your head on the open cupboard door, both going down and back up. You think I’m kidding, don’t you?
           Looking for reasons not to study, I piled in the Taurus and went to the beach for Sunday jam session. It was okay except we did not play that long or that much. There was a disruption. In the form of two women that the G would die for. Myself, just say they didn’t fool me for a second, they were two snitty little losers flaunting what they had. Plus, they were trying to act like teenagers and it was too obvious from their mannerisms that their teens were well behind them. This ties into another mini-story here, so pay attention.

           Okay, these broads were typical “I’ve still got it” types, wearing fashions far more suitable for a 16 year old, but with their womanly features bulging just a little too much here and there to fool anyone familiar with the trade. Here is a photo of them posing for Glenn and you may be able to see what I am referring to. The extra makeup, the stooped postures, the pendulous breasts. All this adds up to early twenties to me, and that is where the next story begins.
           This 45-ish lady came in. Right away I knew she was a loser, but I didn’t know why. She gets out a guitar. The G is only too willing to let somebody else do his job, he grabs his guitar and heads out to the beach. The other two women were playing the “why, how old do you think I am” game with the male staff, a drunk and a passing pizza delivery clerk.
           Essentially, the G left her with me for about twenty minutes while she played what I think was Joni Mitchell. You see, there is a Federal law that says if a woman over 40 plays a guitar, she must do Joni Mitchell, or at least I have proof that such a law must exist. God was she lousy. I emailed Cheryl later to say I’d found all those half measures that Brian kept dropping. The older lady was blonde and blue but otherwise not remarkable in any way. Especially not her musicianship, she was a little unclear on the concept that there is to be at least a slight mesh between the words and the music.
           Anyway, when the G and I were talking just afterward, I pegged the ages of the two women as 23 years 6 months and 22 years 4 months. They had thick waists and muscular legs plus lots of other telltale signs of early womanhood trying to recapture the teenage look. Most prominent were their breasts, which they shoved in everyone’s face. The G always misjudges such things in women and I mentioned that they had both been pregnant at least into the first trimester.

           The G is so unsuspecting sometimes, I pointed out to him that their breasts had already sagged away from the chest wall, a nearly sure sign of post-teenage pregnancy. I feel this tap on my shoulder and it is the 45 year old lady. She wants to know when I’d been in medical school. Doy, we have a winner. I informed her I had done a lifelong study of female anatomy.
           To which she asks for my birthday. To which I replied “Scorpio”. To which she got miffed that I knew exactly where she was trying to go.
           She says, “Oh, well then, that [being a Scorpio] explains it all.”
           From there she went on about how I was “totally left-brained” and therefore analytical, unfeeling and uncaring while she was right-brained and artistic. Her choice of words indicated that analytical meant “maladjusted” and artistic meant pure and good. I asked her if she believed this as an absolute truth, to which she said yes, pointing out that Astrology was the “first science” and that all others “came from it”. Not 15, she was, but 45. Obviously this woman was out to insult me and prove me wrong for her own purposes.
           Like, I need this? As I picked up my gear, I said to her that her theory did not, in fact, explain it all. She defensively placed her fists on her waist (akimbo) and asked just what she left out. I winked and said, “Why I can play a guitar a fuck of a lot better than you.”
           If that sounds cruel that is too bad – she started it. You know, I’m seriously beginning to doubt that the G has a college degree. The G, and many people I’ve known, often get into the metaphysical and such to disguise the fact that they are no good at practical things. Like reconciling their own bankbook or doing their own tax return. The fact that he consistently meets up with this type of person is telling me that the classical sign of education, the increase in the probability of a response, is not at work here. An educated person would be aware of Astrology, but not embrace is as fact or call it a science.

           I went directly over to JZ'z who was watching TV and eating chicken. We caught up on everything and lo, what do I see in his kitchen? A microwave. Not only that, he made popcorn with it. I’m a corrupting influence. Just in the last six months I’ve got him to get a DVD player, go on the Internet and now a microwave. Guess I must be totally left-brained.
           We went to town and rented some movie about Eagle One, a waste of good money. Our consolation is that the rest of the stuff on the Blockbuster shelves was likely even worse. Eagle One is another tired go into the jungle and rescue somebody flick. Is it the SEALS, the Navy, the Army or somebody else who never leaves anyone behind, I forget already. Maybe the whole lot of them for what its worth. I will guarantee you that the scenery is the Philippines and so are many of the actors. This was a film on a budget There was not one original scene in the entire movie, it has all been done before. Many times over.
           I got the Taurus up to speed, 75 mile per hour on the Palmetto. It sails smooth and true. Alignment, you say. The trip to Seattle is still in the works for June but this time I will triple check driving skills. How often do they change lanes, how far behind to they stay back and if they use the cruise control. The important things if someone is sleeping in the back. This is one major trip.

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Return Home
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May 6, 2006

           I got a quote on the tires and alignment for the Taurus, $150 of which $120 is a “damn good set of used tires”. I wanted new ones but I know this guy and he says these are a steal. I poked around the shop for an hour but basically it was a day of working around the house. I made up some shelves and painted them. I routed the edges and painted them black. I also redid the window frames on the front of the trailer, since the last person had proceeded to sloppily paint both the frames and the rubber molding a flat white color. My trailer was looking anemic.
           While I was at it, I ripped out the kitchen AC unit, which crapped out a day ago. This is not the big unit in the Florida room, that is still fubar. Whoever installed the original unit went haywire with the spray sealer, but I got it all chipped away and cleaned up. That puppy weighed 65 pounds I estimate, because I had to hump it outside for disposal. And it was less powerful than the 49 pound unit I replaced it with. My choices for this evening were to drive out to the coffeehouse to play possibly twenty minutes, or keep busy around the house. The house won.
           I also refilled the ink cartridges on the HP, devised the master list for the optical disk database, installed a new handle on the hall closet and began rewiring the kitchen outlets so I can get at them without crawling under a cabinet. I told you, puttering around makes me a happy man. I dwell on the past less than some, but I wonder what would have happened if JP and I had bought a fixer upper five years ago. I think he may have approached his brother for a co-sign but the brother wanted too much leverage over that factor. Or am I thinking of somebody else?
           There has been no news or contact from JP for over a week. I met the Filipino lady who Adam says is interested in computer coaching. She is across the street and several doors down. It was dark and was emptying the trash, but she is very light skinned and hair light enough to take blonde dye without turning that horrid off red. She is also quite slim. Ask me again after I see her in the daylight.
           It is time for more war movies. I got home four hours ago. I made gourmet hot dogs with horseradish sauce. Iced tea. I bought a big jug of fresh orange juice. There are still some shortbread cookies above the fridge. All I need now is a subservient but talented girlfriend and life will be pretty damn good.
           Except maybe for this computer. Nobody realizes it much, but I say there is a real advantage of familiarity of your equipment by choosing to upgrade rather than buy a new computer. This new unit, while incredibly fast, has dozens of problems that need ironing out. It still does not display the inserted pictures correctly and I see that MS has still never fixed that annoying problem of the sound blasting on and it taking up to 30 seconds to open the volume control box and turn the thing down. Only a completely useless prick of a programmer would do such a thing.
           The unit also randomly deletes the Arcsoft camera driver. I’m looking again at joining one of the online “detective” agencies that have collected all the private record databases. I figure that is worth $29.95 a year. The ads seem to avoid saying they have a good user interface to find the correct files, so I assume even once you get on their system you are still on your own. Well, I’ve worked lots of database listings before. My question is will people pay to learn what is on file about themselves? I’ll give it a whirl.
           When I dropped in to fix a time for my tires, I got this random shot of two heavy duty tire mechanics working on a customer problem. Everyone is happy to report that the patient lived and is doing fine.
           Now just so nobody gets to thinking I got mentally sluggish with my new trailer (notice how househusbands get that way), I’ll point out that the map on the wall beside me is much like the same map we have all looked at many times. Nothing ever changes on those things, except the odd political border. Nothing new. Or not? I’m looking at the drainage basin for the Great Lakes. I plan to drive through there soon. I know from grade school geography there are no mountains there. I see the Fox River and the Wolf River near each other in Wisconsin. Me and millions of others, I suppose.
           In fact, the map shows their headwaters to be less than 100 miles apart. What kind of big question could be asked about that, I hear them say. Well, I got to thinking. The Fox is part of the Mississippi drainage basin, while the Wolf flows into Lake Michigan. Didn’t they teach us 20% of all the fresh water in the world is in those lakes? If so, where does it all come from? Certainly not from that teentsy little smudge on the map called Wolf River.
           I have a large scale map, meaning the anything with a label is probably a major feature. Why don’t I find the rivers that feed the Great Lakes. Starting clockwise from Sault Ste. Marie in Canada, lets find them. There’s the Mississagi, no skip that one, it can’t be more than 100 miles long itself. Ah, the Ottawa – but wait, it does not flow into the lakes at all, it joins the St. Laurence in Montreal, way east.
           We are looking for the great rivers that feed all that water into the Great Lakes. Here they are, the Genessee, Sandusky, Au Sable, Pic and Saugeen. What do you mean you never heard of them? A lake cannot exist unless the water flowing in matches the evaporation and water flowing out. That’s a lot of water, chum. I cannot find a single major river within 100 miles of the shorelines that does not flow away from the Lakes, yet there are no mountains to stop them.
           So, like the millions of others, I ask, “Where is the drainage basin for the Great Lakes?” What? Well, I mean, I am sure they would ask if they thought about what they were looking at on the map. Maybe they were too busy or something.

May 5, 2006

           So maybe I did forget it was Cinco de Mayo, but I got reminded later in the day. Don’t worry, I’ll tell you about it. Meanwhile I spent nine hours in the shop without a break to get all four Internet computers up and working. They are networked, but that was not part of the delay, rather a dozen niggling little problems and the task of keeping all four running while making simultaneous but not identical changes. It keeps you hopping.
           I also downloaded drivers, something I’ve gotten fairly good at, as well as keeping them organized and cataloged afterward. Which reminds me, do something about my own CD/DVD database. No more wasted time looking for disks. I plan to invest in some kind of music CD rack and use it for organizing all my disks, which now number in the hundreds. Didn’t I swear that would never happen?
           An historical project of mine cropped up today. Some 16 years ago, after seeing a bookstore that offered some offbeat material, I came up with this plan to write a guide book. Being the opposite of most writers who seem to lack the basic ability to come up with subjects to write about, I had the idea and shelved it, which you’ll understand in a moment. The plan was to create and sell a travel book that told how to swear in every major language in the world. It had some pointers on common sense, like not to try it out in a dark alley, but like I care? My purpose is to sell books.
           I had tons of the groundwork finished, but then two roadblocks. One was a pronunciation key. After a year of part-time fidgeting with it, I could not come up with something that worked that was not already copyrighted. Second, there were some language groups like Urdu where I could not find a native speaker to cooperate and tell me the swear words or big-time Jamaican losers who figured out it was a project and wanted fifty dollars to help out. Today, however, I have traveled much more and would no longer be so fussy about accuracy. How many Swahilis would misunderstand my key?
           I still have some of the research material in which I identified something like 117 languages that had more than a million speakers. If things stay slow, it may be time to reactivate this project. First, I must clear it on the Internet to make sure there is nothing similar. I’d rather redo the research than try to find it in my stacks of material.
           Cheryl emailed, she is quite aware of the fact that I want to play in more upscale places. However, she can’t get it out of her thinking that I am opportunistic, not predatory. It is as if she has never actually met anyone who is serious about sleeping around. She has only one way of looking at it, and can’t change even when she knows it is not the correct way. Little things slip out. I know she isn’t dumb so there is a mental block at work here.
           For example, she is obsessed with pointing out that the women at lounges are still women. I agree, but I’d rather pick up a drunk stewardess than a drunk secretary, it is a matter of preference (now listen closely) because I very rarely pick up drunk women, got that? In my life, lounges are the single most successful venue for me meeting women by a good five to one margin. I have never, by strict definition, picked up a woman in a bar, but that is a qualified statement. Let me explain.
           I have met women and chatted them up, then later bumped into them in a bar and went home for sex. In another variation, I have met women in a bar and later met them elsewhere during the next week, and then had sex with them. But to actually go to a bar, find a drunk bar bunny and take advantage of her is something I never had to get into. I just never had that much trouble getting laid to have to resort to sordid drunken sex. Careful, while I have never done such a thing, I am not saying I would not, and in fact I think I’d be quite good at it.
           Cinco de Mayo. A big fiesta for the Latinos. Most of them know as little about what they are celebrating as possible, a lot like people from New York. The problem with the fiesta today is that it was right behind the curtain where the G and I set up for our gig. Every Mexican child gets a sharp, pointed implement on their fifteenth birthday. It is used to poke holes in a speaker cone. This converts those crisp factory-new models to that late-night rattle and frap that allows even your most distant neighbors to readily identify as authentic Mexico City.
           That Mexican café next door, the ones charged with slashing Barry’s tarps (he caught them on tape) advertised they had mariachis. Except that there were no actual mariachis in sight, see, it was all played on a laptop. If you doubt it was not intentional, take a look at the pictures and note that they have the exact same model of PA system we use. We play guitar, vocals, bass and the drumbox through out system and have never managed to distort a Fender. The trick I think, is to run the incoming through a pre-amp that is also cranked, in this instance built into the laptop. My guess is a jackhammer painful 115-118 decibels.
           Let me tell you, this broad was ugly. The picture does not convey this but I didn’t care get any closer. She was old and the only good thing is that she was not also fat. Up close you could tell she was pushing fifty. She could not sing worth a twit, it was more like an endless atonal chant at full volume. The costume was great but one would be nuts to wear that much heavy cloth down in Mexico. What got me was those horrid eyebrows plucked into that strange high arch, like a 1942 navy base hooker in the movies. It seems to me a woman would do anything to avoid looking like that, but no.
           Now of course, this provided many opportunities to test the drum machine, tune up and make dog howling noises to accompany her singing style. Generally, we kept quiet but let them know they weren’t going to have it all their own way and that we could outplay them any time we felt like it. As Homer Simpson put it, “Cinco de Ocho”.
           Barry wanted to call the police but the general feeling was it was only once a year so let them get away with it. Besides, the last thing you want to do when you live next to a stupid person is let him even suspect he can do things that bother you. So we packed up and left. One the way out, who do we meet but our percussionist friend, the blonde that plays the triangle. Makes $80 an hour at it, too. The rest of the orchestra is volunteer. I took up quite the chat session with her upon finding out there are three or four single women in the orchestra.
           Of course, she stated that there are single women all over the place, but a lot of unattached women will say ridiculous things like that. I call this effect by many names, where singles imagine the room is always full of available members of their own sex on the prowl, competing for the alphas and succeeding through sheer numbers. My statement is based on a head count; where they get their ideas is pure mystery. John (Fletcher) used to say this, yet even when she agreed to prove it, all the places we went were over 7/10ths men. They never have an explanation for this but still insist the room is full of women. Again, I challenge the world to show me a place where single, attractive available women congregate and outnumber the men, but there are some basic rules to prevent you from throwing in a bingo hall. Trust me, there is a good reason men don’t go to bingo to pick up women and it has nothing to do with gender.
           Liz and I agreed in advance to write down our results, because like a lot of women when pressed for facts, Liz sometimes developed trouble counting. I don’t have my notes but I recall it was something like 230 men to 70 women. Certainly, most of the men were after the few tall skinny blonde women but that is not what we were measuring. Even looking at the facts, Liz still insisted the room was full of women and no men. Zero, none. You can’t compare this to bingo because this was a party and sex atmosphere. It is not like you could hold a convo in there. Hmm, maybe it has nothing to do with gender.
           Liz disappeared after the first two years I lived in Miami and kind of lost touch. Now I can’t find her anywhere. Liz was a tall skinny brunette with a lively personality even by my exacting standards, able to assimilate vast quantities of TV-grade knowledge and snappy expressions. She was just not my type although we hung out for ten years or more. One weird minus is that Liz could make out you were boring by refusing to talk about anything except the few things she herself was interested in, kind of thing.
           Interesting point. The blonde said during the concert, she had the stage tech zoom the security camera around to watch the G in the bleachers. Now, the G and I were not sitting in adjacent seats because we both like private armrests and nobody, not even the G, knew I would be there until less than an hour before start. Yet the blonde instantly picked me out of the audience and was able to accurately describe how I was holding and reading the program and for how long. Mind you, she also said I looked bored and I wasn’t. I asked her if she noticed the man near me who was eating potato chips, she never saw him at all, although I would not be surprised it she’d heard him. Anyhow, what do you make of that?
           I’m still watching Band of Brothers. There is more fair play to the German side than John Wayne would ever tolerate. And still far more Tiger tanks on movie sets than Normandy. The Germans inevitably are dumb enough to charge in broad daylight from beside (instead of behind) their tanks and had a true gift for ignoring existing ground cover. This was compensated by the fact that when attacking, Germans are far better shots, often picking off Cromwells from 100 yards beyond the maximum range of an 88. Teutonic childs-play in 1944, really.
           Don’t miss the obligatory cliché of the GI who takes his helmet off just for a second. Never forget when going to war with Germany or the Viet Cong that the exact same rain that holds up your entire operation merely provides immunity to them. Even though you cannot be beside somebody without them being beside you, if you go to the Academy long enough, you learn this rule does not apply in warfare. In the Army, the side becomes a “flank” and splits into two. “Fall back, they’re on our flank!”, or “Outflank the position!” See that? Once in the Army, Navy, Air Force or Marines, you or the enemy can now be on the other’s flank without him being on yours. This is highly evolved military science.
           Careful, now, because this only works against other armies with a school-bred officer corps. (Can you name any that are currently losing a war?) Example, Stalin ‘purged’ the Soviet command in the 30s, so when the Wermacht hit them in ’41 those damn Ruskies had never been to college to learn about flanks. Spotting enemy left or right, Ivan, not realizing he had been defeated, often turned his PPsh sideways and continued to hold down the trigger until the magazine emptied. Upon which he hauled ass to the nearest ditch and rejoined his unit. Russia 1, Germany 0.
           By comparison, the Germans must have loved the West Point grad, George Patton, who knew everything there was to know about flanks and then some, no doubt. Logistically outnumbered 40 to 1, they held Georgie up for a year using third rate Generals, boys and old men.

May 3, 2006

           Wow, is the craigslist thing exploding. At least at this little part of the world. Where I am the master at picking up on a person’s education and social background by listening to their choice of words, I fully admit to using this talent for evil. I figure it balances things out when dealing with the weak-minded because they waste everybody’s time. I’ve long since known how to pick up on demographics on the Internet. The recent events on craigslist show I may have mastered this skill – these people swear I must know who they are and demand to know my identity. Fat chance.
           Most people are mentally lazy and instead of thinking, adopt the attitudes that make them most comfortably fit into their environment. Thus, knowing either factor lets me quickly and accurately judge the other. For a relevant example, women who work together in an office will all agree that older men should hit on older women, not because they have thought things through (which they have not), but because it is in their own personal and collective best interests to take such a stance regardless of their personal feelings. Continuing, a group of jocks who hang around a male-dominated sports bar will spout off that they are the protectors of the innocence in womanhood. It goes beyond groupthink because it is totally selfish; they secretly hope the group will toe the line, thus increasing their admittedly slim chances.

           Yeah, yeah, I know that none of this is groundbreaking. Maybe so, but merely knowing about it does not compare to what I have done, which is define and refine. It is a matter of degree and I have twenty jocks out there convinced beyond a doubt that I am spying on them right over their shoulders.
           Later – I spent the day cloning and installing various disks to upgrade the shop. The rent is up $500 and my share is $200. I’m installing 80 GB drives on the Internet computers. This is a tedious process, giving me plenty of time to take gouges at the inevitable group of morons on craigslist. They couldn’t have timed their idiotic replies any better for a day I had nothing much else to do but expose their ignorance. This is a continuation of y’day.

           Some of them really do think I know how to trace them out. They are using Still, an anonymous email service. Not one of them suspects I am a single person taking on the whole lot of them at once. These threads evolve and it has come to the issue that I am pointing out to women how every one of their stupid jock pick-up tactics are juvenile. The women, of course, already know this, but the jocks think they don’t and I am giving away their secrets.
           Talk about fun, for I understand this whole jock mentality fifty times better than you suspect. Jocks break the Law of Synergy . They are so wrapped up in this team thing that they forget there is only one captain, and it ain’t them. I’ve often considered teams as a hiding place for those who can’t stand on their own or plain have trouble meeting problems head-on. I know all the existing bullshit about teamwork – I spent 15 years with some of the worst born followers in this Universe, pal.

           Some people not only need to be led, they assume that if there is a crisis and you become leader, they have a right to follow you. Don’t underestimate this factor, especially if your own supplies are limited. Now myself, I don’t mind leading, or babysitting as I often call it, but I expect to be paid. In advance. Thus, I’m not so good in business but great in life experience, if I may point that out myself.
           While I’m philosophizing about male groups, I’m watching the series Band of Brothers. To study men, you can look at either the military or groups of monkeys in the jungle, same thing. I agree with the genius who once wrote that any time in history a group of more than one hundred men got together, it was to form an army bent on conquest. Or something similar. I, on the other hand, will show you another picture of my apple pie from last day. I think I’ll send a copy of these to Cheryl. She won’t last, with me or anyone. She is far too old and opinionated for how good looking she is, and you know women have to eventually pass that test. There is nothing wrong with opinionated, but if you think anyone is going to stick around to listen to it, then something is wrong indeed. So sad.

           Bill, my top student was in for an email lesson today. I see there is a misconception or two about how the thing works. I won’t go there and instead I will give you a couple or three helpful hints. When you forward an email that has attachments, you have to attach the attachments, at least until further notice. When you send and email, always use jpegs, small jpegs. When you received a blocked email, such as something flagged as junkmail, you have to unblock it to see any attachments. Be careful how you do all of the above.
           Also, Cowboy Mike called and says there is a problem with the site. He had his niece check it out and she says that at least two of the pictures are blurry. These are the exact photos Mike took with his own digital camera, and although Justin had to detune them to make them download faster, they are the orginal resolution and visual quality displayed at 72 dpi. You cannot tell them from the megapixel originals. I think it is his niece that is blurry.
           Mind you, Fred had a similar problem with displays showing differently on different browsers. I’ve had trouble getting pictures to fit within the table borders of what I define. Fred got this big time, with his pictures often resizing themselves on different browsers or possibly just different monitors. It usually takes the form of an ordinary picture blowing itself up to huge size so you only see the corner of it without scrolling. Yet exactly such a glitch is to be expected from most people who program computers, where almost every error is service-affecting. That is, when there is a problem it is not something you can live with.

           Mike says the light wood pictures on the opening page are the culprits. Here are copies of those pictures so you can judge for yourself. This are the exact size and quality that I tested on the actual web to make sure they were top notch.
           Take a look and tell me what you think. I’ve noticed this new computer does not do some things very well or have the same default characteristics. The pictures are very hard to embed and keep in one position. They are also hard to group and drop behind the text when moved at all. I’ll have to figure out the settings.
           I spent almost 45 minutes looking for my printer driver. That is about the fifth time this year. Time for a database on the disks. I made up a whole mess of advertising, this one pushing the hobby shop aspect of the business. I need that $200 per month extra and need to take in more work. Expensive work. I’m also pushing that you can come in and try out software before you buy, also $5.00 per hour. That is why I’m hooking up a third, then a fourth computer as soon as I can. The nice units are running me close to $400 each because I’ve been too lazy to network what I have and share the speed I have.

May 2, 2006

           Major problem, at least for me. The backup copy of the old video computer disk did not take, as happens too often with optical disks. It shows as okay, but the files are not there. On top of that the originals will not display on what is now my new F: drive. I spent the entire day desperately trying to recover these files, including a 9-day gap in this journal. There is around that amount of lag time between the local backup and the optical backup.

           Absolutely no word from JP and his phone is unplugged. Did I mention I took the Argus [digital camera] apart and disconnected the speaker? Well, it also makes the shutter button trickier to use. I have no pictures of the symphony last weekend. No word from the G either, so I’m guessing he scored. Careful, she is twice his size.

           [Author's note 2020: digital pics were rare in 2006 around here. This is possibly a repeat, but it is from the same time. Making apple pie. Back when I could eat such things.]

           No interesting social developments, so I went on the rants and raves of craigslist. Have you ever noticed that every person there, except for the odd fantastically creative author, is a dull and uneducated piece of shit? What? Well, I notice it all the time and that is that. Anyway, I love to infuriate such people. It is not true flaming, I suppose, because I have no intention of converting them nor do I have any really strong positions on most of the subject matter. I merely have strong opinions about the allowability of stupid people to express opinions.
           I think everyone should have to prove they have read at least one book on something before they can mouth off. The least of my favorites in this already detested group were out if force today – jocks who can’t score with young women and hate anybody else who does. The topic was the same old, “I prefer older women because they are more mature.”

           That is just not true, shacked up forty year old women are some of the most maladjusted creatures in existence. The point here is that a series of rather malicious bites began when somebody suggested that older women stay out of clubs that primarily cater to a younger crowd. That lit the fuse. What is old, and why can’t they go anywhere they please? This naturally brought out that some guys hit on older women, which led to older men hitting on younger women. The last development always brings out the jocks.
           I gave one set of those bastards a brain fever. I insinuated that I was 44 and had already picked up and had sex with their 21 year old daughters, who I dumped after one night because they had the “damp musties”. It was not hard to figure out which ones had teenage daughters and suggest they were stupid fathers. The real hostilities started, however, when I suggested that the true reason they liked older women was their lack of success with the younger ones, both now and when they were in their prime.

           [Author's note: this photo appeared in a slightly later version of today's post. Formatting a C: drive, something you probably don't want to do for kicks.]

           Thank God for the Internet, because I hit a boiling point on that one. Jocks never admit they are past their prime, ask Al Bundy. Naturally I picked up on the theme and went on to twist the knife mercilessly. Gee, I tried to tell them not to blame me by assuring them all their friends already knew they never scored in high school and that they had gone through the sexual revolution “without firing a shot”.
           Of course, to a loser jock, all women under 28 are jailbait. Somebody should document the problem. To me, a 21 year old woman is all grown up sexually and if she is going to do it, she has by then. Jocks have no comprehension of female sexuality and are wide open to wild theories, so I gave them some. There was one jerk on line, probably an off-duty cop, that was ready to kill. Good, these people need to be supremely insulted because they think they have the right to impose their views on others, and their views are usually based on the misplaced morality of preventing others from doing what they tried and failed to do themselves. Prime example: Prohibition.

           Last, the MS problem on the Internet. My prediction is that if MS keeps snooping on people's computers and they keep doing this, older versions of Windows will become very valuable. I am convinced MS is invading existing systems and implanting the determinants, all disguised as an update or “Service Pack”, because the systems did not do this before. It could be a change in the way they do business but they still need to trick you into incriminating yourself. Thus, turn of your auto-updates for now.
           I reformat new drives to Windows 98 before installing XP, which seems to clear out the problem at least at this end, as well as using a two year old version of everything, before these so-called updates. Oh, and I heard a new word, a contrived term actually. I have no idea if it is new or not but I like it and intend to use it. “Conflication”. From context, it seems to apply to the situation where working on one component on a computer causes another to malfunction.

May 1, 2006

           [Author's note 2016-05-02: this was typical of my "daily log" type writing when I put in a full day at the office. It does not follow a theme, and those who have been around see that even these older entries benefit from the formatting and presentation rules I've self-developed over the years. And here is a picture of Ko Samui, where I spend many a perfect evening on the Thai western coast.
           Ko is the Siamese word for "island". This idyllic spot was just far enough away from the more famous Phuket Island. By 1988, Phuket was full of Australian men, most of whom are drunken jackasses in real life, and the attendant swarms of prostitutes. This also attracted so very many West Germans in those days. One day, I must print my diaries of Ko Samui, although I was only there for part of my lengthy stay of 1984-85.
           Further, I remember this exact stretch of beach and that palm tree, so I know parts of the photo have been cropped. This is also the same stretch where I missed my only potentially famous photo, where my 35mm camera let me down. I remember that day, but I probably do not remember specifically any persons or programs in this post. Why? Because those work logs were not initially meant as blog material. They are here because that is all I have for May 1, 2006. To me, every day is an important day.]

           The Screamin’ Demon is back in the shop. I had no idea that the SATA drives were an step backwards as far as operating system compatibility goes. You have to know exactly when to interrupt the install process. This completely offsets any potential good done by SATA using a single thinner cable. I know, it is hard to believe who they will give engineering degrees to these days. No, I don’t know all the facts, but I do know that I don’t claim to be an engineer, either.
           My 40GB is in the shop to get the files transferred over so I finally put MS Office on this computer. It takes up 10% of my available hard drive space. This brings up three topics.
           One, I use a 40GB because that is what I can keep organized right now using a lifetime of built up skills to do so. I could upgrade but I would be no better at keeping such a huge drive organized than some people are with a 5GB.
           Two, this computer was slow enough that I could read the names of many of the installation files. What a load of needless crap, files with names like Post Mortem and Pleading Wizard. My advice is still to steal this product as your only hope of conveying to MS that they are not done with the basics yet. You are buying Spanish and French files whether you want them or not. Careful, or they can take up 10% of your hard drive.
           Three, MS is getting greedy. The newer updates are coming back with a message that your version of whatever is illegal. I’ve only heard of it though it should only be a short time before I see it. My guess is that it records the product key during the initial install and the MS help line picks this up when you log on. The obvious fix is to turn off the update feature, or take the updates of another computer.

           Is this unethical? That depends. Y’day I was writing an email and went to type a capital R. The email was not done, I was still working on it. I managed a typo that made my screen disappear. The file email was completely unrecoverable. But, did it wipe out or did the incomplete version get sent? No way to tell with hotmail. I attribute the command that caused the problem to MS and their obsession with gimp features. They rip you off, you rip them off. Two wrongs don’t make a right, but they let the person doing the first wrong know they aren’t going to get away scott free every time. I could have made backups, but that doesn’t address the problem, which is gimp features that cannot be turned off.
                      Of course, asking MS to limit themselves to perfecting what they already have been selling is fruitless. That would be like asking my parents if they should have more children or provide adequately for the ones they already have. These kinds of people will never do the right thing unless they have no other choice. So, I say, steal the product. They are dominating the scene so badly it is preventing others from entering the marketplace with better products which is even more illegal.

           I got a little flak already about my comment that there are no breakfast specials in this town. Give me a moment to clarify. Yes, there is money to be made at it, my point was that people would abuse the offering and I don’t unsay that. I am implying that the reason no restaurant owner does it is because it would involve hard work, lots of it. Yes, they work hard now, but they work at managing rather than doing the actual work. They want to hire somebody else to do it for minimum wage and that is why they can’t make money at it – they are lazy. Every manager is lazy in my books, which is why he became a manager. Restaurants are one of the most over-managed industries in town starting around twenty years ago.
           There was a salesman for the Hollywood Gazette in the shop today. I’ll have to be careful because both Mike and Fred have learned I won’t take any nonsense from these types and have passed them on to me. There is an old-wive’s tale that the easiest sell is another salesman. That has never worked on me. This guy was clever but had the wrong approach – demographics. There is plainly something overall wrong with basing advertising on demographics because it does not work and there is no adequate feedback, yet they all try it. I don’t care if the median household income near the beach is $70,000 (which is not that much these days). I’ve advertised in plenty of upscale media and got no response, yet my ads are the same as everybody else’s. He was continually trying to drive a wedge into the conversation that his advertising was somehow different and better. That is just not the case. I declined to buy anything and he finally left.
           Last, I was over at Diane6’s for the network repair. That is trip number three and it still does not work. It has become an intellectual challenge. I’ll provide details because everybody talks about going the extra mile. This one has already been ten miles and we are not out of the weeds yet.
           When I got there, she said “a guy from work” had come over a few minutes earlier and got it working. I could have left at that point. Instead, I thought to myself, “Even though this is my very first wireless network and I’ve never had a day of formal training, is it possible that somebody from Florida could fix a problem in two minutes that had stumped me for three days?”

           I replied with complete confidence that she had better let me take a look anyway. Sure enough, he had a strong signal and he was on the internet and grinning broadly. Until I disconnected the transmitter. It kept on working – on the neighbor’s wireless. He did not have the skills to rename the SSID or create a workgroup to isolate the trouble. In any case, he left after an hour, which was just as well. Other than plugging in the wires, he had zero troubleshooting skills.
           After resetting the router to factory and hooking up the laptop, I finally called back to India. I got a good tech who knew his stuff. During the next four hours, we went over every known step until finally we leaned back and let the patient die. We reconfigured every possible avenue and assigned a static IP address. We blocked neighbors signal and changed from channel 11 to channel 1 and back again. It was the strangest case, or as the tech said, “a rare problem”. On that note, everyone was scared, the lady because she was well aware that by ordinary standards, this repair was costing more than the computer.
           I stopped, walked around the living room and made a decision. Fight or flee? My decision was to charge her nothing and handle this as an intellectual go-ahead. Here is where I got: the system has one base unit, and two remotes. Using a matching set of Linksys equipment, I can log on with the remote laptop, but not with the remote desktop. Swapping out all cables and all the simple stuff had already failed, if you can think of it, we already tried it at least twice. This is an exceedingly difficult compound problem that defeated all the experts. The most baffling thing is that the desktop that will not log on to my transmitter will easily log on to the neighbor’s signal and start working.

           On that note, I called the tech back in India and explained that sometimes another pair of eyes can spot something. He agreed and sent the problem up the chain of command to Dorothy (supervisor, who gets credit for instantly recognizing this was no customer service problem), who contacted their top technician. Stay with me here, and remember the network still does not work. I have to go back there another time.
           It was now 8:30 at night and I was bagged. However, by talking with the tech, we came up with a theory. He says there is a small app installed along with the Linksys driver that may have compatibility issues. You know, like Cheryl and I. The plan is that I will download a fix off the net, then delete the original off Diane6’s computer. At that point, I’ve promised to call back to India because the fix is not a straight install, it requires his directions. This makes sense because it explains why WinXP would allow the connection to the neighbor but not its own driver.
           Yes, that is a picture of me making an apple pie. Deep dish, with nutmeg. All from scratch, meaning I opened the can myself. See, all my life I dated useless good looking women, so if I wanted any home cookin’ . . . .

           In other news, I need a complete new set of tires for the car and this time I mean a good set. I’ve decided to get a third computer back onto the desks at work. This means I’ll have to assemble one from components I’ve got around here. Yep, the once since October that I had three people in, I didn’t have three working computers. I’m upgrading to 80 GB hard drives, but only because they are only 8 dollars more than the 40s.

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