splunty's livejournal

Below are the 50 most recent journal entries.
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may 10th, 2013
just another crappy friday

I'm sorry that I haven't been using livejournal, but I have been very busy doing other things.

My dog is afraid of my umbrella.

Friday, October 16, 2009.
october 16th, 2009
just another crappy friday

Post here if you are a gay horse.

day three
march 13th, 2007
just another crappy tuesday

Day three

Clock confusion seemed to cause Jay enough stress that he did not sleep well. My phone continually changes between ship time and shore time whenever we inch near shore. Jay's phone appears to continually be two hours ahead of ship time. We still continue to have no alarm clock. So, never quite being sure what time it is, and suffering from some mild partying the night before, we thought we might miss our special Mayan ruins exploration date at 7:45am.

Mayan ruins

Before we can go to the Mayan ruins, Jay must have a "small breakfast" -- two boxes of cereal, two boxes of milk, eggs and sausage. I am mildly disgusted, but we eventually head off to find the tour. Along the way, this sort of thing happens continually. "Mike! Come look! Look at these shoes!" "I already have shoes. Let's go.' "But they're Mexican shoes! Oh! Ooooo! Look at this necklace! Oooo it sparkles!" "Yes, that's a necklace. Let's go." "Mike! Wait, Mike! I found some cheap wooden trinkets made in China! Mike! They'll make me a special deal today only!" "Jay, I'm going to shoot you." But eventually we find the tour guide, only a few minutes late, and Jay says, "See? We got here on time."

The tour involved a lot of jeep driving. Vroom. We stopped to see some pink flamingos -- which were so far away that nobody could have ever guessed what they were if it was not for the massive, swirling peach and pink land mass moving in the distance. We then headed to the ruins. Two small pyramids, surrounded by the remains of a steam bath, Spanish chapel, and other assorted buildings. The tour guide went on and on sharing facts about the site that, while possibly fictional, gave me a sense of wonder and amazement that the ancient Mayans didn't just kill themselves to get out of there.

And more

We zipped down to a local cemetery, which was not quite what I expected but not quite a taste beyond my imagination, where we were slapped across the face with more "facts" about Mayan and Mexican culture, and then offended the dead by snapping pictures of their eternal homes. We then continued to a chapel in the poor village of Somewhereita, Mexico, where we were all assaulted with our last wave of facts and were mesmerized by the power of the Lord. And then we headed on to a beach where we enjoyed sitting in the shade while the kids ran around and played in the hot sun. Kids are stupid.

Ship sweet ship

After the tour, Jay tortured me with more of his favorite hobby. "Mike! Come look at dresses with me! Ooo, look at this darling sun dress!" "No. Let's go." "But it's soOoOo pretty!" "No. Let's go." "Oh, oh, oh my god, look at this feau marble fabricated bookend! Oh, it's pretty too!" I tried to change tactics. "Goodness gracious, that's a keeper. Pay the lady and let's go." But, Jay had already moved on to another vendor. "Ooo, rings! Sparkley!" We eventually made it back to the ship. Jay had some new trinkets and I had a new sunburn. Nobody came way empty handed.

After a snack, the following happened, although the continual rocking of the boat has shaken up the order in my head: A nice shower, checking of the days events, Jay falling asleep in the room, walking around the ship trying to buy a hat, coming back to the room where Jay doesn't want to wake up, walking around the ship trying to buy a hat, posting on the livejournal and playing with the seaweb internets, buying a gin and tonic, coming back to the room where Jay doesn't want to wake up, looking to see if I can buy a new wireless card on the ship, having some scotch, having some more scotch, and finally waking Jay up around 7:30.

Jay got cleaned up and we went and bought a hat. I really can't shop without Jay's shopping skills. We then went and got a drink. Jay had some sort of creamy, girlie delight and I had another gin and tonic. Then we had dinner. Gosh. Tortilla soup, New York strip, and coconut sherbet. The sherbet was too sweet. Good story, no? We then went to see the magic and comedy of Harry Morebore, who seemed to vibrantly capture the attention and imagination of the entire audience -- except us. Then, back to the room. Jay was tired and hit the hay, so I went to the Observatory Lounge, grabbed a big glass of scotch, and then headed back to our balcony where I drank a big glass of scotch. Good day.

lots of words
december 5th, 2005
just another crappy monday
Mood: confused

Axiology has always interested me. During a recent (painfully inevitable) holiday family gathering, my father related to me how, at the age of 5, I began questioning right and wrong. Not, mind you, if the act of making my bed or picking my nose was right or wrong; but, rather, if the concept of right or wrong was misunderstood by the grown-ups. It is certainly curious, I think, that somebody (that would be me!) who proclaims1 to disbelieve in right or wrong, and even debunks common ehtical systems in day-to-day conversations, would be so obsessed with morality -- even the lack of it.

Even more recently, a friend pointed out the glaringly obvious surreptitiousness of my ethical hypocrisy: How can I claim that right or wrong does not even exist on a fundamental level while, at the same time, proclaim to feel certain actions are inappropriate or morally reprehensible? How could I possibly feel an action is morally reprehensible while I claim to disbelieve morality? Well, clearly I can't! Yet, I feel compelled to try.

Given the context of an absense of human life -- the beloved but in the deep dark emptiness of space hypothesis -- morality simply does not exist. The ability to conceptualize right and wrong behavior makes no sense without a sentient being capable of both commiting and contemplating said behavior. However, this does not mean, or even imply, that morality does not exist at all; only that morality only exists given the context of beings capable of understanding it.

I believe this is a philosophical foundation that can not be cracked with supernatural arguments: emotions, behaviors, and rational concepts do exist, but only in the context in which beings capable of feeling, acting, and thinking them also exist. Aliens, gods, humans, and even Lassie may have feelings and ethics. In my lifetime, I have only run across human feelings and ethics; and I have no faith in gods, humans, or puppies.

"We all seek happiness and do not want suffering."2

My agonosticism certainly lends muscle to this argument in my own mind. Likewise with all things characteristic of all things living, I believe that rationalities, sentience, and emotions developed over the course of milbazillions of years of evolution. Quite simply put, those monkeys which developed rationality became more adept at survival and breeding. Those monkeys which developed a sense of community or society became much more adept at survival and breeding. And, finally, those monkeys which developed complex emotions became more adept at maintaining their societies. In other words, and I hope I'm not bridging a gap too wide to be lept in a single bound, the desire to seek happiness and the lack of a desire to suffer are emotional traits which have evolved through the course of the evolution of the monkeys' society.

The evolutionary nature of emotions is a philosophical foundation that I believe can be cracked with supernatural arguments. In fact, because of this, I decided not to present it as an argument in and of itself. I will only say that this is my belief, and I consider this belief to be fundamental to the continued discussion. Or, rather, I'm too lazy/weak-minded to write a proper argument. Anyway, this next leap may require temporary suspension of gravity....

I believe some emotions (love, empathy, pride, etc.) developed primarily, if not solely, along with society. These feelings serve little purpose other than to strengthen our societal bonds, ergo enabling us, as members of the society to, you guessed it, become more adept at surviving and breeding. Morality is, I believe, one of these emotions. Ethics are, I believe, a way to express, share, and even learn morality. Excluding psychological disorders (such as those people who are incapable of feeling fear or happiness), we all feel morality. We all feel a sense of right and wrong.

However, we may be too rational for our own good. We all (save the goths, woe are they) believe in love. This is an emotion that we all feel. Good ol' Darwin pitched it our way and, thank goodness, we're allowed to be warm and fuzzy inside from time to time. But, we don't all love the same things. We don't all love the same people. Rationality and learned emotion (no matter how irrational it may seem) causes us to differ. I might love sombody nice, while you love somebody mean. I might love something bitter, yet you love something sweet. Evolution gave us love -- but our love differs mildly or wildly. So while I believe in love, as an emotion, I do not believe that there is one true love.

And now to tie some knots.

I believe that morality is an emotion expressible through ethics and actions. I believe that, like love, we all agree and feel these feelings and that, like love, we all feel them mildly or wildly differently. So I would conclude that while right and wrong exists as an emotion that there is no one morality. In an attempt to apply this concept to a real hypothesis, I'll leap straight to one of our most disturbing ethical arguments.


The concept of abortion is, in my feelings, morally wrong. I believe this moral feeling developed partly through evolution (killing infants weakens society, reducing my ability to survive and breed), partly through learned emotion (aww, babies are so cute like kittens) and partly through learned ethics (for which I need no obnoxious, italicised example). However, I believe other humans may just as legitimately believe that abortion is acceptable, having developed through evolution (bringing up infants who are deformed or out of wedlock weakens society, reducing my ability to survive and breed), emotion (it's my body and I'll do with it what I want!) and learned ethics.

So yes, I do believe in morals. However, I do not believe that my morals necessarily align perfectly with anybody else's. We all have different feelings of right and wrong, and we all are capable of applying these feelings differently. Evolution gave most of us a decent set of good emotions (killing is bad, stealing is naughty), allowing society to function smoothly and, therefore, allowing us to breed smoothly. In general, these "obvious" ethics are enforced by edict in modern society, primarly to dissuade behavior of those people who fail to use their emotions properly or who, for whatever reason, developed what the masses would call improper emotions.

So when I claim to not believe in right and wrong, I don't mean that I do not have emotions which guide me to behave in a good or evil way. I mean that I do not believe that there is one set of right and wrong ethics which are correct and should be followed by all people. Abortion, by example, I feel is wrong. But I do not (and can not) judge those who feel it is acceptable. By contrasting example, I can judge others who murder, rape and hurt others -- because whatever guided them to commit these deeds did not (or should not) have developed through evolution and learned behavior. Murdering people for fun, since this is an easy hypothesis, is always bad for society and, therefore, reduces my chances to breed.

And I can't have that.

1. Nuncupate was a recent word of the day. It would be appropriate here.
2. How to Practice the Way to a Meaningful Life, Dalai Lama.

august 23rd, 2005
just another crappy tuesday

Does anybody else miss .99pl4-b? *sigh*

red states
august 5th, 2005
just another crappy friday

Even when I bother to fill out this sort of thing, I almost never put the results in my journal. However, I feel compelled to share with everybody my intense, unfortunate and previously-secret fear of Maine:
doit here.

a small music experiment
july 13th, 2005
just another crappy wednesday

For Sean, and I guess the other musicians out there, I thought this was an interesting experiment. I did a google search for lyrics "some made up lyric" and then recorded a "cover" of the first song I found which I had never actually heard before:


Apparently it's a Dan Fogelberg tune? Anyway, it's a lot harder than I thought it would be to try to play "guess the melody", but it might make for a unique 24-hour album concept?

june 5th, 2005
just another crappy sunday
Mood: sad

Somehow the Texas sun seems even hotter when you're digging a little lizard grave.

june 5th, 2005
just another crappy sunday
Mood: poor

Teapots have always treated me poorly. In return, I've come to contemplate them with disdain. Having gone through so many in my life, I'm only able to recall the manner in which a select few were dispatched into teapot history -- some directly and without remorse to teapot hell. Several met with clumsy demises, of course, scalding my toes or cutting my feet as their divine will willed. One or two simply vanished, likely having heard from the neighbor pans and neighbor pots the stories of teapots former and fearing for their own stewing, brewing lives. More than most, I'd say, wind up being tossed into the trash.

You see, like I said, teapots have always treated me poorly.

Recently, for instance, I found a serendipitous ceramic surprise in a package of eclectic gifts mailed my way from a friend in Washington. My current pot, having managed to escape the predictable wrath that most teapots eventually suffer in my kitchen, had begun to dribble. That horrible, horrible dribble. That angst and anger cowing dribble. That hated dribble that is so often translated in my groggy and unforgiving brekafast brain into, "hurt me." And once that dribble starts, one might as well place an order for a short and stout coffin, because things will only get worse from there. You see, it's a bit chicken-or-the-eggish. Once the first tiny dribble, even a single disturbing drop, decides to diverge from the downpour -- once that mother dribble is born -- only the luckiest of teapots may survive another week. For the mother dribble begets dribbles galore.

Marred by memories of messes passed, my hands work ever slowly, carefully, deliberately while preparing each and every subsequent cup of tea. This is all part of the mother dribble's plan. More slowly after each displaced drop, more carefully after every subseqent spill, my movements become sloth-like relative to any other human being on the planet. Fogyish friends in nursing homes around the world build playing-card houses with more vigor than I pour the tea. Until, eventually, the inevitable it happens. Actually aided by the overly gentle, paranoid pouring, those relentless hydrogen bonds finally manage a molecular meniscus around the teapot's snotty snoot. Slowly, then quickly, then in a rage-inducing flood, the tea fails to pour at all; instead, it simply flows out of the pot and, sticking to the outside of the spout, slides down the surface of the pot and onto the counter. And this is, as you might have guessed, exactly what my new serendipitous ceramic surprise did. Unsurprisingly, this is also exactly what my previous pot had decided to do -- which is exactly the reason why serendipitous was exactly the word to describe my new gift.

You see, like I said, teapots have always treated me poorly.

Upset, disgusted even, I parked the offending pot on the counter, facing, if you will, the older, wiser pot. Not so much to aid my own contemplation about the future of the pots, but so the damned things would be able to congregate and revel. There are times in my life when I have managed to overcome great adversities, rise above the clouds, and outwit even the greatest of foes. But then there are times in my life, like this one, when I am, in turn, outwitted by the clever doings of inanimate objects -- like teapots. And, in times like these, I sometimes allow the victors to rejoice... before I smash them.

Having left these two smug teapots together, clutching my hard-earned cup of tea by the handle, I waddled off to my computer to sip and wonder why I chose to battle such a beguiling bastard instead of going back to bed. After a few short minues of sip, curse, sip, curse, I decided to push aside my bruised consciousness for a bit and, instead, allow my brain to relax into a vegetating slush by reading livejournal. And that is, of course, when carbonunit slapped me in the face with this.

Carbonunit has never treated me so poorly.

one less glass
may 20th, 2005
just another crappy friday
Mood: disappointed

We often attribute stereotypical clumsiness to computer nerds, Mr. Magoo, mentally challenged individuals, the first unelected President of the United States, Gerald Ford, people suffering from crippling neurological disorders and, of course, nelly homosexuals.

That was my opening sentence.

Many years ago, when Internet purchases were still fun and exciting, I ordered eight conspicuously heavy pint glasses from http://www.sierranevada.com/ as gifts. Two for him, two for him, and four for me. Almost immediately, in a possibly drunken, clumsy display, one of the glasses was broken.

Sometimes I lose my train of thought.

Tonight, while drying one of my remaining (precious) Sierra Nevada pint glasses, my fingers either gripped or ungripped the wrongest way possible and the glass, unaware of its fate, squirted free and, parabolically, headed on a path that was to end just about the center of my kitchen floor.

Sometimes I lose my trian of thought. It's time to go the interesting bit.

The interesting bit began while the glass was in mid-air, as my brain mumbled the thought, very quietly of course, maybe it won't break, it's a good glass, it's a fine glass, it sure has lasted a long time, maybe it won't break, being so conspicuously heavy and all. That thought lingered and lingered until the shattering began. And it was right about then when my brain decided that, no, it's breaking, damn my unluck, but was unable to finish the thought because it was interrupted by my lips and lungs pairing up to bellow out, obnoxiously loudly and such, POWER OF PALE ALE! BEGONE!

Once upon a time I could have made that an interesting story.

spring greetings
april 6th, 2005
just another crappy wednesday


giant bucket
january 27th, 2005
just another crappy thursday

Slightly disgruntled, having been told by my HMO that I would have to wait 2.5 hours before seeing an urgent care physician, I hobbled out to my car and decided that I'd return to my old strategy of waiting 2.5 weeks to see if the pain would subside. But that's alright, I think now. That's alright, because I'd have never seen him. In fact, I think now, I would have not even noticed him had I been in New Orleans. Because he jogs by just like that every day in new orleans, I think. At least somebody does. As I exited the parking lot, that's when I saw him. He was, if I was made to guess, gruffly 70 years old. Gruffly 70 years old and jogging, wearing only his boxer shorts and a pair of brown house shoes. Jogging in his brown house shoes with the rest of his clothes, at least I presumed since he was carrying them, neatly folded and clutched in his right hand, pressed up against his chest. He wouldn't be dropping his clothes. In the other hand he carried a plastic bucket with a plastic spade. His jogging jiggled the spade about angrily, and I thought that he might be dropping his spade soon. And he had a paper hat on his head.

for my eyes only
november 22nd, 2004
just another crappy monday

This should be of no interest to anybody else; just a link to the remains of my old homepage that I didn't feel like deleting. Read more...Collapse )

little big links
november 1st, 2004
just another crappy monday
Mood: bananamood

Huge images that somebody bothered to take.

august 10th, 2004
just another crappy tuesday

the truth
august 5th, 2004
just another crappy thursday
Mood: amazed at amzn

august 2nd, 2004
just another crappy monday
Mood: golden

http://woof.tamu.edu/~michael/music/2004/Stalking_Jane_Doe.mp3 It might seem that it's a lumberfork ad, but I'm really just testing jlj.

june 15th, 2004
just another crappy tuesday

Poll #308256 Pick The Talent


Bob Seger
Elton John
Billy Joel


Billy Corrigan
Billy Idol
Billie Holiday


Stephen Stills
Graham Nash
David Crosby




The Village People


Kenny Rogers
Kenny Loggins


Suzanne Vega
Tori Anos
Carole King


Milli Vanilli
Vanilla Ice

may 26th, 2004
just another crappy wednesday

Personally I find it more ironic than amusing...

three links
may 23rd, 2004
just another crappy sunday
Mood: ouch




glowing lizard
may 16th, 2004
just another crappy sunday

clickyCollapse )

sunny rainforests
may 2nd, 2004
just another crappy sunday

Mothoc posted this. What I'm wondering is why this is shocking. Half of the country will deny that it has happened, the other half should already know that it's happening:


But yes, I'm off now in the sunny rainforest. Will return Wednesday, yes. Very busy. Yes.

a quickie
april 19th, 2004
just another crappy monday

Here's a comprehensive list of the upper echelon of pop vocalists:

Stevie Nicks.

I think I'll pass out now. :)

my big fat lizard
april 13th, 2004
just another crappy tuesday

Read more...Collapse )

so that's why
april 7th, 2004
just another crappy wednesday

Incoherency, incomprehensibility.

For many people, mornings are the births of new days. Holy births in vivacious, holy mangers full of holy rejoice at the continued holy existence of whatever picayunish lives these people lead. These are the Happy people who view life as a magical, glory-filled existence which is so amazingly special that it simply must continue even after it doesn't. I am not a happy people, and there's probably no point in mentioning them.

On the other end of this spectrum, which clearly only exists in my own thoughts since the existence of human beings doesn't occur on a linear or circular beam, are Unhappy people. Unhappy people view life as a daily drudgery, waking each morning feeling slightly more pale than the "Vampire's Ghost(tm)" facial foundation they were uninclined to wash off of their faces before dragging themselves into bed in the wee hours of the night. While I'm probably much closer to being an Unhappy than a Happy, the Unhappies probably do not belong in this post, either.

My mornings can't quite be described as routine, since I'm usually much too incoherent to follow a routine. Instead, my mornings are an incomprehensibly-strung-together series of events which usually lead to the same end: Myself in my auto driving towards the campus, my pants on over my underwear and a shirt over my chest, recyclables by the curb, ID card hanging from my neck, A/C unit adjusted, doors securely locked, and fish, lizards and ferrets checked and fed. This is the sort of morning person I am, the type who struggles to get chores done as they come to mind before meandering off for a "day at the office." But, yet again, I'm not sure why this matters since the only relevent thing I have typed so far involves checking on the ferrets in the morning, since this is what this post is about.

Yesterday's morning was a typical morning as I dizzily, tiredly did thises and thats and slowly neared the point in the day in which I was quietly meandering towards campus. But yesterday's morning was unhappily disrupted when the ferrets were checked upon and the white ferrret was discovered with a bloody, red nose and evidence of having thrown up repeatedly.

And now, because writing is insanely difficult and I don't feel any need to share the rest of my gory yesterday-morning's details, I'll summarize by saying that I now live with two ferrets instead of three. She had a large tumor in her head (which is becoming a somewhat annoying theme in my life) and Agnes the Veterinarian put her to sleep. Which does, of course, explain why she seemed so amazingly stupid and mean.

Bye, Piggy.

april 1st, 2004
just another crappy thursday

Haggardly Little GirlCollapse )

march 29th, 2004
just another crappy monday

This is definately the first time I can remember thinking this, but I'm glad Kari did not come in to work today. As Raina would say, I'm hella glad. Considerable joy can also be felt from Jay's absense, as he will not be in at 10am because his devilchild must be taken to school. And much love and affection for the absense of Dave, who is going to have his mouth drilled upon.

Heavens to Betsy, then who remains to cover the operations center while I go to the networking meeting this morning?

Yes, I'm very glad Kari isn't here today.


work stories
march 15th, 2004
just another crappy monday
Mood: working

All names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Once upon a yesteryear, Krissie was our go-to woman for all things networking. Unlike the other network engineers, she possesssed everything required to be a great employee: Personality, competence and work ethic. Yes, indeed, she was easy to get along with and always did the job that she knew how to do. Subsequently, I called upon Krissie many times to work on many problems for many people. However, this disturbed the almighty Associate Provost for Networking, Gillis. You see, Gillis felt that Krissie should spend her valuable time laying cables for a new machine room network, so he passed upon to me a new decree: "Verily, Verily, thou shalt not dependest upon thine goddess Krissie, henceforth. Where and when thine hardships arise from ash and fire, thou shalt pray upon on-call personnel and then, henceforth again, pray upon sub deity Matt."

Backing up a little bit further, you might recall my complaints about Gillis and Matt taking away my write access from the routing equipment on campus. "Verily, verily," they saithed unto me, "Fearest not our mighty netwrath, wee peasant, for thou didst not bringest upon thine self this devine castigation. Mere a minor quest that thou shalt instead pray upon a network engineer." And this should allow us to review last week's glorious interaction with the network engineering group!

We received a pair of vague complaints along the lines of, "my network is slow," around 8:15 in the morning one day last week. By 8:25 I had found duplex mismatches between building switches and router interfaces in two buildings. Not having write access to the routing equipment, I set off to find the network engineering on-call, Billy Idol. As expected, Billy did not answer my page so I began my search for Matt. Around 9:30 in the morning Matt had been tracked down dawdling about the machine room. He listened to my problem and responded, "Verily, verily, takest thine piggish stench to JT. JT, mine minion of the brownest nose, shall helpest thou." Another 15 minutes or so, and JT had been tracked down. JT, who incidentially shares an office with Krissie, asked me to send him an email and he would take care of the problem as soon as he got back to his desk.

Around 10:00am I finish typing up the problem and how to fix it, since JT is very new and probably has not spent any time working on our Alcasuck equipment. However, 11:00am rolled around and the problem had not been fixed yet. About 11:15 I stopped by JT's office to ask what the hold-up was, but he wasn't home. Instead, I sat down next to Krissie and began discussing lunch with her. It was right about this time, 11:30 or so, when her Groupsuck Mail beepbeeped and informed her, "You Have New Mail." And, sure enough, JT had cut-and-pasted my email and forwarded it on to Krissie.

We both shook our heads as she fixed the issues more than two hours after they were reported. But I followed procedure.

march 7th, 2004
just another crappy sunday

As I've mentioned before, I keep a notepad next to my bed in the event that I wake up in the middle of the night and wish to jot down a dream before it is forgotten. Rarely, if ever, do I use the notepad. Last night I did.

Hall. Fall. Accountants and cats and bakers like Tolkien races. Maze. Frantic. Skeleton key bone door. Floor wax on wax off. Mickey dance. Kari lunch. Round like bluegirl. Kari briefcase. Me snack cakes.

This is probably why I shouldn't bother trying to save my dreams. From what I recall, I was running frantically through a maze of hallways and doors and, of course, was being chased by evil-doers. The evil-doers were half-people, half-other-things who were also warring amongst themselves as well as trying to catch me. I finally stumbled into one room only to find Kari and I eating lunch. However, the floor smelled of candle wax and waved and weaved and constantly moved around, sort of what I would imagine a wax floor would do if I had injested illegal mushrooms (which I would never do.)

The "me" in the dream was immensely fat, almost as round as a beach ball, with hands so fat that only the nubs of my finger tips could be seen. Kari was sitting across from me, eating her briefcase (?) with a little 6"-long chainsaw. The chainsaw was very cute. I was eating snack cakes piled high in a giant wooden bowl. But my spoon was, of course, too big.o


march 5th, 2004
just another crappy friday

Click here to see a picture of me holding my fatty up for the camera.

Click here if you haven't already found the new webcam and bizarre chatroom. I'm just so intensely proud of my bourne shell WebMemoChatter. This is the sort of pride that's a seven-deadly-sinner quality.

Click here if you aren't very bright. That's all I have left.

work cam
february 27th, 2004
just another crappy friday


Just in case anybody wants to watch my supervisors sleep today.

caption contest!
february 6th, 2004
just another crappy friday

It feels like years since I've had a good caption contest! It's time! It's time! So given the political climate of an election year, I decided to have a political caption contest! Good luck! Try to get all four right to win a big prize!





just why me?
january 27th, 2004
just another crappy tuesday
Mood: sleepy

Just as my thoughts began to fade into sleep, a ferret cage and living room full of broken glass. Surely this was no karmic payback. You can make as many lists as you want, but I've been much more nice than naughty. Honest.

eyeballs and trauma
january 21st, 2004
just another crappy wednesday

Eyeballs are now protected from light sleet. Unfortunately, I usually get moderate hail.

As with most trips to Scott and White, (my health care provider), today's visit was exceedingly frustrating. I've had an ear infection / ache, sore throat, throbbing headache and head cold for several days. After spending several minutes explaining to the incompetent receptionists why I do not have a primary care physician, I was finally allowed to sit in peace only to wait for an hour past my scheduled appointment to meet with a doctor who, as you might guess, told me to come back later should symptoms become worse. Was that one sentence?

Antibiotics? Oh, heck no. These fancy drugs cost the IMO money. Let's just see if your tympanic membrane begins to rot before you die!

This is where Heir Bush's federal limitations against "frivless litgation" will help people like me receive the "perscriptions" that we need. Once I am no longer a threat to sue Scott and White for refusing to give me antibiotics for severe infections, they'll be free to provide me with antibiotics for severe infections without fear of running out of money. (!?) No, I don't understand it, either.

january 14th, 2004
just another crappy wednesday

I'd like to take a moment to apologize to those people (apparently everybody) who were misguided by my previous post. As far as I know, Chris' body is still alive. I will make an effort to avoid prematurely announcing deaths in the future.

january 13th, 2004
just another crappy tuesday

It was eight years ago that Chris and I played "good" music for Duane in my alcostenchy living room. Rest in peace, Chris.

llamas are funny
january 9th, 2004
just another crappy friday
Mood: giggle

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snip snip
december 22nd, 2003
just another crappy monday
Mood: snipped

snip snip...

snip snip...

snip snip...


november 29th, 2003
just another crappy saturday
Mood: sigh

Gustave Gilbert discussing his interview with Herman Goering, 18 April 1946. Gilbert was a psychologist doing assessment work during the Nuremberg trials. Quoted without permission from Nuremberg Diary (Gilbert):

We got around to the subject of war again and I said that, contrary to his attitude, I did not think that the common people are very thankful for leaders who bring them war and destruction.

"Why, of course, the people don't want war," Goering shrugged. "Why would some poor slob on a farm want to risk his life in a war when the best that he can get out of it is to come back to his farm in one piece. Naturally, the common people don't want war; neither in Russia nor in England nor in America, nor for that matter in Germany. That is understood. But, after all, it is the leaders of the country who determine the policy and it is always a simple matter to drag the people along, whether it is a democracy or a fascist dictatorship or a Parliament or a Communist dictatorship."

"There is one difference," I pointed out. "In a democracy the people have some say in the matter through their elected representatives, and in the United States only Congress can declare wars."

"Oh, that is all well and good, but, voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same way in any country."

Bono, U2, quoted without permission from "40":

I waited patiently for The Lord
He inclined and heard my cry
He brought me up out of the pit
Out of the mire and clay
I will sing, sing a new song
How long to sing this song?
How long?

He set my feet upon a rock
And made my footsteps firm
Many will see
Many will see and fear
I will sing, sing a new song
How long to sing this new song?
How long?

Sorry, Bono, but 43 is even worse.

not dead yet
november 24th, 2003
just another crappy monday
Mood: jumbled

65. :( ... :) ... :( ... And enormously fat. One of the webcams is mostly functional again. Maybe you can catch a glimpse of the fatness. My brain be all jumbled up.

Michael is going to venture to Home Depot to see about building a new home for Allie. The current one no longer seems suitable.

october 25th, 2003
just another crappy saturday

From Yahoo News:

The parents of an 8-year-old boy ticketed by police for violating traffic rules on his bike say they won't pay the $34 citation for a child who is just half the legal driving age.

Perhaps I have this idea because I live in Texas, but isn't refusal to pay a fine a good reason to put people in jail?

"He's an 8-year-old child. He does not understand what the right of way is," She said.

Perhaps I have this idea because I live in Texas, but isn't allowing your eight year old child to ride on a BMX bicycle in the streets without teaching them anything about right of way a good reason to put people in jail?

He crossed paths with a 2001 Nissan and the car clipped the rear tire of Scott's 5-pound, 16-inch BMX bicycle. "I'm doing OK," said Scott, who was not wearing a helmet during the accident. "I hit a little bit of his car, but then I just got off my bike and ran away."

Perhaps I have this idea because I live in Texas, but isn't allowing your eight year old child to ride on a BMX bicycle in the streets without teaching them anything about right of way or making them wear a helmet a good reason to put people in jail?

Not to mention bringing up your child to run away from a hit and run accident. Hopefully child services will see this article and get that kid away from his abusive parents before they kill him. I bet they're aggies.

1 month
october 20th, 2003
just another crappy monday

By way of guesstimation:

43,800 = total ciagrettes smoked in my life.
40,000 = total cigarettes smoked in the last decade.
2,700 = total cigarettes smoked in the last year.
0 = total cigarettes smoked in the last month.


september 15th, 2003
just another crappy monday

I find it odd how those people find it so compulsory to let me know when one of those people dies, while they can't be bothered sending me mail during the uneventful years between deaths.

I think I'll quit smoking on Friday.

memochat for manx
september 4th, 2003
just another crappy thursday

Dear Duane,

Why didn't you just tell me what a hopelessly selfish loser Chad was?

Your friend,

august 30th, 2003
just another crappy saturday

Trite work ramblings:

I'm not sure if I avoided having a nervous breakdown at work today... or if I now know what it's like to have a nervous breakdown at work. Whichever the case may be, the stress is debilitating to normal brain functions. The only reason I went back into the office was because I left Kari doing all of the work ("with Dave") while I was zombing (It's a word, really.) about the building.... And, believe it or not, even I sometimes feel guilty.

According to our almighty straw-hat-wearing networking guru Chris Noynaert, we have 10800 network drops in the dorms. We have 1404 deactivated ports (at least as far as we've documented) in the dorms. Assuming 2/3 of the dorm ports have machines plugged in, which is a bit liberal, this means we have deactivated 20% of the machines in the dorms. Why? I'd guess 95% of those are for the blaster/nachi/welchi virus. The others have been disabled for legal violations, other viruses, or for rogue DHCP servers. But for the most part of the last week, even those students with "working" ports have been unable to register with the DHCP server. Why?


But now I must toot the horn. Kari was right. Mark was right. I was right. Chrissie believed us. Now, other than the pathetic Intel NICs, the dorms are working. Working, I say. It doesn't matter what anybody else says. They're working. Chrissie is a goddess. Kari is a goddess. Mark is, also, a goddess. And the student workers, also also, are goddessses. And I mean that, barely.

mother's day
august 19th, 2003
just another crappy tuesday
Mood: hate

I say a lot of horrible things about my mother. Well, shame on me! It's time that I say something nice, don't you think?

My mother was sometimes very funny when she was drunk. Once at my grandparents' lake house (which is a rant about alienation between myself and the rest of my family even without this story) we arrived the weekend after a new carpet was installed. The place was a single-wide looking over a small like near Conroe, and the previous carpet was so old that it crunched like dry leaves. The new carpet was inexplicably white. White carpet. Quaintly disgusting, no?

Anyway, as I was saying, sometimes she was very funny when she was drunk. That evening, just before dinner, she threw up the gallon or so of red wine she had previously consumed all over the pretty, pretty white carpet. My gracious grandparents tried to act as though nothing was wrong. (Later they threw a throw rug over the thrown up area. Much nicer than throwing a fit and throwing out the old new carpet.) No, nothing was wrong, not even when my father dove into the lake to drag my mother back out. What a hoot!

I say a lot of horrible things about my mother, but sometimes I realize that we have just so much in common. You see, I'm also very funny sometimes when I'm drunk! I am! Sometimes, I am very funny! When drunk! Sometimes I am a hoot.

26 things wrong with me
august 5th, 2003
just another crappy tuesday

Apathy, banality, claustrophobia, despondency, egotism, flippancy, goad, human, insipidness, juvenile, knives, lacerations, mischievousness, numbness, ostentatiousness, pretentiousness, quixotism, rudeness, stoic, tepidity, urban, vulgarity, whiskey, xenophobia, yelling, and zodiac. Explore zodiac and you might discover my real problems.

july 22nd, 2003
just another crappy tuesday

For those people who like pictures, I uploaded some of the Washington trip photos here:


high of 72
july 19th, 2003
just another crappy saturday

I've been wanting to share some of the pictures from exhausting hikes around this area, but I can't... as I only have windows 98 to work with, so no work can actually be done. It's been do-able to keep up with reading, but commenting has not really been possible from up here. Although I'm still amused at the rain forest / internet connectivity.

This is Bob!
july 8th, 2003
just another crappy tuesday

This is Bob!Collapse )

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