Rightfully So

I went to my first college football game in 15 years this fall. Before I went, I was chastised when I asked how much a beer is at the game. Apparently, they don’t serve beer at college football games! I was stunned. If college taught me anything it was that alcohol is an important part of the learning process.

We hear about the party schools, but I never knew Yale and Harvard were such places. Apparently, during their annual face-off, in the past there would be as many people inside the stadium as there were in the parking lot. Now, administrators are cracking down on this behavior.
(more…)

There are some things in this life that we must do whether we like them or not. What these things are vary by person. Whereas someone like my father might absolutely loathe having to go to a theme park, there are those like those like me who hate to stand in line for activities that I am not very interested in. Ok, so maybe my Dad and I have a few similarities.

My trouble today surrounded a need to register my car with the State of Ohio. I have a whole day off of work and I the idea of taking a nap with no interruptions is extremely appealing. For a few hours I could pretend that there wasn’t laundry to do or errands to run. I could convince myself that a hard working guy like me deserves a little catch up time in the snooze department. Like the rest of America, deserving or not, I got stuff that I have to do. The DMV wants me to register my car.

I don’t know exactly why the state needs to know about my car. No one from the state has EVER come to my house saying “Greetings citizen, we are going through our records and making sure that all vehicles are in tip top shape. We would like to wash your car.” This in my opinion would be a good reason to register a car with the state. I don’t even know what happens to the scoff-laws who don’t bother to register modes of transportation. Perhaps when they find you, they punish you by making you register. I do know what the reward for registering your car is. Your spouse will almost immediately stop asking if you have registered your car yet. This is a very exciting development. Instead of sitting on the couch under a pile of potato chips and having to defend why watching reruns of MacGyver is more important than going to some government office to be ignored, you can sit under your pile of potato chips in peace (married guys might be the only ones to get that joke).

As far as pain goes standing in line at the DMV rates somewhere between talking to a car salesman and watching Biodome (starring Pauly Shore). It is certainly not on the scale of childbirth or attending a political convention, but at the very least quite annoying. This day was close to on par for what one might suspect. The biggest anomaly from the whole ordeal was that the line was a mere 3 people. I thought this was just because I went in at an odd time, 9:00 in the morning, but after I left I saw nearly 10 people waiting to be “serviced” by the DMV personnel. I must chalk this up to karmic repayment of clean living and helping little old ladies cross the street.

Here is the really odd part; even without the line there was no one there to assist me in my motor vehicle registration activities. Sure, there were people around, but they were all scurrying around looking busy. Some of them were engaged in conversation in order to ensure that they were not bothered by patrons. In other commercial establishments, I would make eye contact to try and get someone to imply that I should come over so they could help me. I would send out major brainwaves that clearly indicated, “Here is a person who would appreciate your professionalism”. This works much better with bartenders than with the DMV.

So instead, I took a social tactic I have used since the second grade. I stood at the head of the line and looked pitiful. Seriously, almost invariably you are wasting someone’s time who cares about having to be somewhere or having to do something. These type of folks offer advice such as “I think they can take you there”, “are you in line”, or in some cases “don’t make my kick your butt!” In any case, a conversation has been started and I can find my way through some layer of bureaucracy.

Sadly, after 5 minutes of the most forlorn and pitiful looks I could muster, the best I could do was overhear about how some local nightclubs served enough alcohol to make the next day at work somewhat annoying. Since I already had empirical evidence of my own to prove this point, I considered my net gain to still be at zero.

I would like this story to end up like those letters people write into Penthouse. You know the ones, people get propositioned in the most unlikely of places. Sadly, I have not read enough Penthouse to effectively rip off that genre, and my wife might read this so I would have to turn it into some kind of gentlemanly rejection. All in all it sounds like too much work. Afterall I just sacrificed several brain cells to stand in line at the DMV. I think I will just try to find a quiet place to take a nap.

Here’s just a little more evidence that I’m wasting my tax dollars on Ohio politicians who really just don’t have anything better to do. I suspect they’re just trying to justify their existence.

Bills that would regulate stem cell research and strip clubs are on hold for now.

I can just imagine the events that lead up to the bill.

Republican 1: Ohioans are too hedinistic and immoral. What can we do about it?

Republican 2: We’re legislators. Let’s legislate a solution!

Republican 1: Good idea. Okay now, what should we legislate.

Republican 3: Well, how about strip clubs?

Republican 1: Now we’re thinking! Bliss only leads to immorality. What else?

(*awkward silence*)

Republican 2: Um, well, there are… stem cells?

Republican 1: Excellent! I’ve heard about those things. They sound nasty. I wouldn’t want to catch any of those Stem Cells. I bet they’re really contagious. Okay now, everyone in favor of my strip club and stem cell bill, say “Aye”.

All Republicans: Aye.

Republican 1: All opposed?

Democrat 1: Hey, wait a minute.

Republican 1: The Aye’s have it.

Yeah, I know, they’re really 2 bills. But where’s the humor in that?

Here’s the article. (and don’t forget bugmenot)

So I’m browsing usenet the other day looking for a little info on the behavior of the windows Console API. (On a tangent for work. It was nothing assigned to me, and I have far more important things to work on, but I’m prone to getting lost in the weeds. On no, wait. I think I’m doing it again.)

ANYWAY, I found this amusing posting (from a Finish feller, no less) that I thought I’d share.

The fun thing is, backspacing too far only really crashes the console
handler. However, the NT kernel is so brilliantly engineered, that it
constantly watches the console handler process, and if it notices the
console handler has crashed, it gets all depressed, thinks “Oh no, life
is not worth living any more”, and commits suicide. Just out of spite.

— Joona Palaste

Little Pepe de Pollo used to follow his father into Cancun each Saturday, waking before dawn to walk three miles and catch the lone rickety bus that served all the villages in the area. After an arduous morning of riding over rutted jungle roads, lightheaded from breathing in bus exhaust, Pepe and his father would arrive at last in the bustling tourist city and begin practicing the craft that many consider to be a scourge upon society: looting.

Now, years later, Pepe stands next to his own son, each with an armful of DVDs, watches, and pricey electronic equipment. “They used to spit on us when we came to Cancun,” Pepe says through a translator. “They said we were mere criminals and God would punish us for stealing.” A huge grin spreads across his face as he glances down at the day’s haul heaped in his arms. “But who’s laughing now?”

Hurricane Wilma has been an unexpected boon to looters from the Yucatan peninsula who saw mother nature clear the land of tourists and police, leaving unattended the well-stocked shops and boutiques that hold the lucrative booty looters so ardently crave. When the weather clears and tourists finally return, they will find Pepe and his son back in town not as looters but as merchants.

“We’ll sell this stuff back to the tourists for at least twice what it’s worth,” Pepe says as he sorts through DVDs. “They assume that because they’re buying it from us on the street they’re getting a deal compared to buying it in the stores. Tourists are so stupid.”

In addition to stupid tourists, the merchants from whom the merchandise was stolen in the first place will likely have to buy their own goods back from the looters if they hope to stay in business. In Mexico this is commonly known as “looter economics.”

Shop owner Jesus Jimenez arrived just as looters were carting off the last of his wares. “They took everything except the Toby Keith CDs and my pirated copies of that awful “The Island” movie,” he said. “Not even the drunk spring-break kids will buy that crap.”

As he and his son hike back to catch the bus, Pepe marvels at the inefficient looting that took place in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina. “The American looters have no plan,” he said shaking his head. “It’s all just smash, grab, and run. People were running into each other, overwhelming some stores and leaving others untouched. They should have practiced before hand. You can’t just wait until looting day and show up expecting everything to go perfectly. It takes planning. I’ve been doing this my whole life. The Americans, they are amateurs.”

When informed that even the poorest American looter lives like a king compared to the squalid filth of Pepe’s village, he just gives a knowing smile. “We may be poor,” he says, “we may be lazy, eat dogs and bathe in the same water we defecate in, but we are proud. My father was a looter, his father was a looter, and so was his father before him. My family has been looting longer than America has been a country. What is freedom and prosperity compared to being part of a proud tradition?” With that, Pepe and his son disappeared into the jungle where they were promptly mauled and eaten by a tiger.

Attention, young people: learn some humility!

A few years ago, I worked for a very small Midwest company providing cool technology solutions for the business problems du jour, and, at one point, we went on a hiring binge to beef up our staff to increase our solution-delivering throughput. Being a higher-up on the technology totem pole at our organization, the loathsome task of interviewing candidates befell me. (As a small company, we had to wear many hats, and we didn’t have the luxury of a Human Resources department to take care of these tasks. However, by replacing “luxury” with “burden” in the previous sentence, you end up with a true statement also, so I guess it all balances out… I was glad to screen candidates myself instead of letting some attractive, mindless HR chick-e-pie decide.) Anyway, our company didn’t want to actually pay for qualified technical talent because that would impact our balance sheet in an undesirable way, so I was left with recruiting from the local community-college-esque educational institutions, hoping to pay minimal salary for maximal talent.

I recall when the roles were reversed. I recall being a stars-in-my-eyes, just-out-of college, hopefully-soon-to-be-employed job prospect. However I never recall being so full of myself as these candidates were full of themselves. I, you see, brought humility, along with my other qualities, to interviews, trusting that those interviewing me knew more about technology and their business than little ol’ me. Apparently, humility is no longer a desirable trait, as evidenced by the parade of seemingly-world-changing hotter-than-Sirius bargain-at-any-exorbitant-price losers with whom I had the unfortunate displeasure of not having been able to avoid sitting in the same room and interviewing.

Of course, I realized that these people were eager, enthusiastic and charged. I was too, when I was in their shoes. That is supposed to be good, right?

Well, around that time, we Americans were experiencing the height of the dot-com boom phenomenon, and internet technology companies were poised to take over the world leaving the Wal-Marts, General Motorses, Exxons and Boeings in the proverbial dust. Companies like CitrusZestersOnline, eDentalFloss, and SliceMyBread.com were poised to be bigger than Jesus, barging their way into the new millennium.

Like so many fads, the dot-com craze had its roots in California, home of the bizarre. Being in the Midwest, our company was looking for something different. And, by “different”, I mean “more”. We needed somebody to help take our organization to the next level, not some simpleton who knew the difference between a “bit” and a “byte” and therefore commanded a six-figure salary.

At the time, our organization, like many others, was in a transition period, contemplating the unthinkable step of abandoning the Windows 3.1 platform, in favor of a fully 32-bit compliant Windows 9x platform. Of course, Uncle Bill had been steering all of us in this direction for years, but, by necessity, business moves at a glacial pace with regard to technology, embodying the principle that “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it”. Now, being a technology junkie myself, I wished my company would take on more advanced projects; however, my gusto was tempered by the realization that my company’s customers– i.e. those who pay my salary– are cautious by nature, and therefore don’t embrace newness just for the exquisite unadulterated joy of it. This has been a hard lesson for me to learn, but, it is a fact of life, and I understand that this is where my bread is buttered.

So, I’m sitting in the conference room, talking to simpleton-candidate number n, and I’m trying to gauge his ability to work with “old” technology (i.e. Windows 3.1) as well as new technology (i.e. Windows 9x), as a talent with, and desire of both are both necessary for the future success of our company.

“How long have you been programming Windows applications?” I ask. His answer is the key to his employability within our organization. I listen with baited breath (whatever that means).

“Since the product came out!” he says, with great passion.

OK, this guy may be great. Let’s find out some more.

“And how long has that been?” I ask.

Simpleton-candidate says, with condescension, “Since 1995,” with an implied “Duh” at the end.

I finished with formalities, and showed him the door. You see, Windows 95 is so named because it came out in 1995. Fine. But, Windows has a history, to include Windows 3.11, Windows 3.1, Windows 386, Windows 2.03, and even the venerable DOS. I was merely trying to gauge where the simpleton-candidate fits into this timeline. Apparently, to this simpleton-candidate, computing history began with Windows 95, in 1995.

An understanding of old technology is necessary to the successful application of new technology. I hate to sound like some latter-day Grampa Simpson, but in my day, we had things like electronic mail, instant messaging, file sharing, and multiplayer games– in the 1980s. Today, in many people’s minds, these things are the bee’s knees. They are the wasp’s nipples. To me: I’ve been there, and done that.

Now, let’s fast-forward to today. I’ve recently started a new job with a new employer, performing highly-technical tasks in a large production environment, and often I find myself in way over my head. Yet, they chose to extend an offer to me.

Think about that: I was chosen for this technical role despite my (lack of) specific technical skills. In my interview, I made it abundantly clear that there were things I knew, and things I did not know, and I made no attempt to bluff my way through the process.

I have since heard a tale of one candidate who, with his élan to impress, explained that, while he lacked specific work experience with SQL Server, he had installed it at home, and he learned it in a day. Yes! SQL Server in one day. (If you don’t know what that means, replace “SQL Server” with “automobile maintenance” or “HIPAA compliance” and you’ll get the idea). I wonder what that guy is doing today; he’s certainly not working here.

Wisdom trumps intelligence and modesty trumps zealotry, and rightfully so.

Don’t make this kid watch Deuce Bigalow 3.

Hollywood announced earlier this week that the Earth’s supply of original movie ideas may run out within the decade. This announcement has sent shock waves through the movie industry, an industry that brings in at least 4 gillion dollars every year. While the general public was unaware of the drop in reserves, some activists within the industry have been aware of the problem since the mid 80s. “We saw the danger back then and did everything we could to preserve original ideas. Do you think the world really wanted seven Police Academy movies?” stated Tom Careguy of the ASR (Association of Sequels and Remakes). The ASRs warnings fell mostly on deaf ears back then but in recent years the organization has tripled in size and consults with all the major studios.

2005 saw a boom of movies based on TV shows such as Bewitched, Dukes of Hazzard and The Honeymooners. These are all a result of Hollywood trying to preserve the few original thoughts it has left. Another method of conservation is a remake, such as the upcoming movie Zathura which is a remake of the 1995 movie Jumanji. “Remakes are the easiest, you don’t even have to hire writers you just need one guy to go through the script and replace all the characters’ names.” said Careguy. “For Zathura all we had to do was replace the word ‘Africa’ with the word ’space’.

So the next time you go out to see American Pie Band Camp, just think of the original movie idea that may have been preserved for your kids to watch someday.

One of my worst fear is realized, early retirement won’t boost your lifespan. This solves the one argument against raising the retirement age for Social Security! Raising the retirement age to 70 has caused all sorts of backlash. As somone who was born after 1960, my retirement age is already 67. Another three years is not that big of leap, especially if I’ll live longer by working till 70! Obviously, if you want to maximize your life span, you do not want to retire early.

If you don’t want to wait until 70, then plan for your retirement. Max out your Roth IRA… Look into your companies 401(k), 403(b) or any other retirement services offered. Putting $4,000 a year into a Roth IRA over 35 years earning 8% will yield you over $744,000! Might not be enough to retire on, but could make retirement a little sweeter. Starting 5 years earlier your amount goes over a million dollars.

I was reading some quotes in the newspaper this weekend, and some of them seemed glaringly incomplete, so I thought I’d help out a bit.

Referring the Iraq Constitutional vote this past weekend, President Bush said “We have stood by the Iraqi people through two elections, and we will stand by them until they have established a free nation that can govern itself, sustain itself, and defend itself.” He then added, “Whether they want it or not.”

U.S. Marine Lance Cpl. Sam Smithson commented, “I hope they have a really big turnout. The closer they get to independence, the closer we get to going home.” To which President Bush added, “Yep, so we can get to the next nation on my list. Let’s get moving people! These countries aren’t invading themselves.”

In 21st century America, it is of course unnecessary to say that respect for humanity has taken its rightful place atop the list of tenets by which we live. Why, even your twenty-year-old manager at “Chickn Skinz” with two hyperactive children, an overweight spouse, a drug problem and no self-esteem knows he must subordinate his suicidal notions to ensure that his employees are treated with dignity and respect.

Yet in Hollywood, some have apparently yet to learn the lesson by which the rest of the country lives. It’s no stretch to imagine directors sixty years ago such as John Ford repeatedly putting their actors in physical danger or berating their skills in front of others so as to elicit the emotion necessary to capture that perfect shot. But today, for whatever reason, that lesson is only slowly taking hold in Tinseltown, a place where one would expect such values to have taken root long ago.

Which is why we were so glad to hear the accolades being foisted upon director Cameron Crowe. The helmer’s trademark style of putting his actors at ease has generated some of recent Hollywood’s most celebrated screen characters. Who else but a nurturing mentor could have taken Tom Cruise, worn down and nearly bankrupt from years of mistreatment at the hands of brutish directors who forced him to make awful, unsuccessful films, and coaxed him back to super-stardom in “Jerry McGuire,” where he was finally able to achieve the fame and fortune he deserved? It’s no wonder, then, that the heretofore desperate stars of Crowe’s new film “Elizabethtown” are reacting as though they’ve been given new life.

Kirsten Dunst was already famous, rich and beautiful when she signed on to “Elizabethtown,” but says she took the role for the chance to get the one thing she and all other actors clamor for: respect.

“Cameron is like a friend,” says Dunst from the comfort of her personal trailer. “I go to the set and my favorite music is playing. Between takes he’s making sure I’m comfortable and relaxed. It’s hardly like work at all.” Were it not for directors such as Crowe, of whom there are admittedly few, she says, “acting would be a real chore.” Indeed, Crowe was not the slightest bit miffed at the late arrival on set by Dunst who had been forced to personally telephone Los Angeles to ask a friend to call her assistant to notify her maid to fire her dog-walker.

In addition to the rigors of being told what to wear, what to say, where to stand, when to show up and occasionally having their picture taken, movie stars certainly don’t need the added stress of having a grumpy boss. “E-town” star Orlando Bloom adheres to this philosophy, saying that having a boss who’s also a friend gave him a taste of the kind of professional working atmosphere the rest of America has been enjoying for so long. Occasionally giggling due to the inexperience of his pedicurist, Bloom tells how a previous film set was fraught with tension because the director was less than friendly.

“He only wanted to do things his way. He didn’t want any input from the actors and treated us like ignorant underlings. Can you imagine how that made me feel? If corporate America was run that way, the people would riot and the very structure of our society would come unraveled. It’s a marvel that Hollywood manages to function at all.”

Shuttled to the set on an immense downy pillow resting atop an ivory chariot guided by God’s own angels so as not to accost the star with the slightest bump or bruise, Bloom is lifted into a chair where he undergoes the tortuous ordeal of having makeup applied. This excruciating but necessary evil not only makes the sex-symbol’s skin appear flawless, but reminds the viewing audience just how gruesome and shameful our own normal visages are when compared to our Hollywood betters.

Even those with smaller roles in the film, such as “Sexiest Woman Alive” Jessica Biel, are enamored of the director. Biel, whose perfect body is the object of envy and lust worldwide, said working for so long with no reward other than fame and riches had taken its toll, making her all the more grateful for the chance to work with Crowe. “He just naturally puts you at ease,” said Biel, who still received millions of dollars for her role even though her actual screen time was cut to less than one second and consists solely of the partial line “Sni…” “He really cares about his actors, unlike some directors. I’ve been on movies where the only way I could make it through the day was to remind myself that afterwards I could escape to my house of spun gold in the Hollywood hills where I would bathe in a pool of rejuvenating tears from the mythical Phoenix. And even then I sometimes had trouble shrugging off the memory of the literally two hours I’d spent slaving on that set.”

At the end of it all, the coddling, hand-holding and ego-stroking the rest of us take for granted at work is sure to result in a motion picture people will revere for decades. For all of their hard work - speaking for several seconds at a time, rushing from the set after each take to prevent the camera lights from damaging their God-given beauty, and perhaps even deigning to sign an autograph for one of the very vermin who forks over ten percent of his weekly paycheck for a ticket that helps justify their own orgiastic pay days – these actors will be rewarded with a gift far beyond the money, drugs, rampant sex and freedom from personal responsibility they already enjoy. They will receive the gift of a beautiful memory, one that will last a lifetime, or at least until the film is panned by critics and they are forced to save face by blaming Crowe for his lack of vision. Until that time, though, their surgically modified titanium super-hearts will be warmed by the memory of the brief, shining moment when they were at last treated like the rest of us.