03/01/00 - "It Ends Badly" a very short short story.
"You're a carpenter, right Mr Mosby?" said the doctor.
"Yes" said Mosby, strapped
to the table. After a moments pause Mosby spoke again. "Why?"
"It's necessary information. We need to know where to send you."
the doctor said without even glancing from his instrument or slowing his work.
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"Mr Mosby,
we know how to program the human mind just as humans program computers. We get from you what we want from you without risking
unpredictable behavior."
Mosby thought again about his capture. 5 men were necessary to restrain him. He looked at his bruised
wrists, badges of his struggle even bound. He struggled at every moment. He knew he would get free. He was from a long line of
determined fighters. He'd raise an army and reclaim his society from these... these... interlopers. There is no conquoring the
human spirit. The thirst for freedom is never quelled until, voluminously, it courses through the system.
His thoughts were
interupted. The doctor left his seat and began connecting the instrument to Mosby's head. The doctor finished and returned
to his seat.
Mosby watched the doctor working and wondered how the process would feel. Mosby never wondered again. He spent the
remainder of his life hammering tacks until he died unnoticed.
03/02/00 - Harry Potter #2 is done. Time for #3. According to the web page #4 is coming in July. Guess who will be buying the hardback? I and many other 13 year olds will be. Not that I'm 13. I was, but that was 16 years ago. I wonder when I last read The Lord of the Rings? Maybe between Potters #3 and #4 I'll give those guys a spin. Of course I'll start with The Hobbit then punch through The Fellowship of the Ring, The Two Towers and The Return of the King. I'm surprised those names came so easily. I can picture the books. I even know where in my house they live. Talk about being 13. This is what I did back then... Tolkien and Star Wars. It. Period. Girls had cooties and sports weren't for nerds like me. My report cards were 3 As, 2 Bs and a C. And I hadn't discovered coffee's joys. What a weird life that was. My cup is empty now... uh oh.
03/03/00 - And the cup is full. Scott made "Strong" coffee meaning he put 2 times the grounds into the basket. A bigger, better coffee; isn't that the American way: take a good thing and make it better? Hot, it's not too bad, but when it cools it tastes yukky. Speaking of cool, Ray brought the new Steely Dan album into work. Steely Dan was so cool they were hot. I just finished track 1 which is funky but lacks the charm of the 70s, drug laced music for which Steely Dan deserves it's cutting edge reputation. Here's the problem with coming out of retirement: you bet your reputation on sucess. Track 2 sounds just like track 1 which is to say a flat representation of majesty. Maybe the music will grow on me. The cover art is strangely clever yet inane... which is to say it strikes my fancy. Like "Strong" coffee. And isn't it fair to say "If it looks better it is better"? Maybe not, but we American's seem to want to believe that. Ok, back to the "Strong" coffee: not only does it contain more caffeine than "Stock" coffee but you have to drink it quickly in order to avoid the yukky flavor thus your cup is empty faster and thus refilled more frequently thus, by about 9:30am, you're shaky-quaky and need some food to settle the angry troll living in your stomach who, then, won't do you the courtesy of eating your appeasement offering (I guess the troll just settles down in it for a nice nap) so you get fat. Perhaps I'll stick to the "stock" coffee even though it's not the American way... oh, well; I guess we're not always right.
03/07/00 - Today we look at change... actually, any and all senses of the word "change" will do just fine. Let's start with the stuff in my pocket. Dimes and pennies. 22 cents. I take it out and toss the pennies into a foam cup and the dimes into my "Soda Fund". The contents of my pocket is different than it was several minutes ago thus we have change. I changed my mind; I'd rather talk about watches. Mine is too tight... now it's not: It's too loose. Better loose than tight right now. Now I want to go let the dogs out to pee. They like that... I think. At least I assume they do. Boy am I Stoop-Oh, going home everyday like I do, if they don't like it. But then I like seeing them, too, so maybe I'm not that bad. I am bad at cleaning, though. All these years of living by myself... having to meet no one's standards but my own, have led to an undisciplined cleaner. I do like my CDs alphabetized, though. I also like books... books, books, books. I like to see books everywhere. Books are a great way to... well, I don't know. Just like books around me. That's that.
03/08/00 - The coffee mugs gathered on the programmer's desk. "What shall we do?" "Is it really true?" "What's the square root of 49?" Were among the pressing questions confronting the gathering of ceramic and plastic. Rumors flew and finally the white W&L mug was appointed leader and tried the establish an order: "Ok, again... who wants Hazelnut?" Finally he gave up and turned to the phone. "It was better in the factory when Hope was high." Unfortunately Hope kicked her drug problem and got a job balancing the books for the front office. She tried to balance mugs once but she was still suffereing from withdrawls and her shaking caused them to fall violently to the floor. The front office put a stop to that... plus they carpeted the floor with feather pillows and the remaining mugs were shipped out of the factory. Many found their way to various companies and were stamped with the company's logo, shipped to the company's clients and placed permanently in the bottom drawer of the file cabinet in the backroom with the red, stained carpet. Others made it to a shelf or desk with still others. The luck ones unionized but coffee mugs are nortiously thick so that did them little good. So they sit around and recall that story Hope used to tell about the fish tank and the cheese pizza and how close to God she'd almost been... now she just stands there with a stack of books on her head.
03/09/00 - Boo. This is a scare tactic. [Boo]. This is a scare tactic in square brackets. If only the words would keep coming. Actually, they do but they go nowhere. What use is a pile of words? You can shovel them into the holes the dog dug. You can't jump in them like they were stick and poop free leaves from the back yard. You can't spend them on beer and thrills. You can't build them into that fully functional guest house out back that will really be a study for 99% of the time. Nope. A pile of words is as useful as a fist full of ideas... which, as you know, are no good outside of a competent mind. Words are no problem. If only they functioned like paper mache. Amass them THEN mold them around something solid. I left the outside spiggot on all night tuesday. A hose is attached to the spiggot and a nozzle is attached to the hose. Not much water was lost but the spiggot leaks so there was a nice pile of water nearby. Too bad I couldn't through that pile on the plants that needed watering, isn't it? That's the problem with words... unless they do something from the get go they really aren't useful. They creep into the ground where they leaked and do anything else until they evaporate and are placed somewhere nicely next time. Damn words. Dam words! There's the idea!
03/10/00 - There is but one thing about which I can write this morning. My original college cross country coach was Coach Miller. Yesterday, I learned Coach Miller died on October 24, 1999. Coach Miller was the kind of man you either loved or you hated and even those who hated him knew he was a good man. Ok, hate isn't the right word... many folks didn't get along as well with him as I did. He was tough, small, smoked a pipe, laughed at his own jokes (most of which I didn't get), called me Charles (who is my friend and a better runner than I), drove poorly (among other things he took his car out into the woods... an old, yellow, small Subaru Brat), spoke his mind, and always smiled and looked you in the eye when he shook your hand. He was perfectly human and I'll miss him and remember him... and I only have fond memories. I hope my friend Steve will forgive me for posting this exchange:
> > -----Original Message----- > > From: Parker, Lee > > Sent: Thursday, March 09, 2000 1:48 PM > > To: 'Brody, Stephen D.' > > Subject: RE: robert smith > > > > > > I read in the Alumni Magazine Coach Miller died... bummer. > > > > -----Original Message----- > > From: Brody, Stephen D. > > Sent: Thursday, March 09, 2000 1:49 PM > > To: 'Parker, Lee' > > Subject: RE: robert smith > > > > > > Yes, I saw that. He was in his 80's, right? I guess if you live to your > > 80's, coach and develop relationships and a real impact throughout a town > > and university, and have a good family, that it is probably okay to pass > > away. > > -----Original Message----- > From: Parker, Lee > Sent: Thursday, March 09, 2000 1:50 PM > To: 'Brody, Stephen D.' > Subject: RE: robert smith > > > Still... > > From: Brody, Stephen D. > Sent: Thursday, March 09, 2000 1:51 PM > To: 'Parker, Lee' > Subject: RE: robert smith > > > Yeah, I know.
03/13/00 - This was a strange weekend, actually. Dad helped me move a freezer from my house and I helped him move one from his... how often does that happen? I folded maternity clothes for the first time. Kara and I bought an 8' by 4' trellis and are now "training" a Carolina Jessamine (which our book says does well in Florida) to climb it. The last thing we tried to train peed on the floor and still wakes us too frequently for my comfort. Back to the trellis, if I may... have you tried to stick an 8' by 4' thing into a standard sized car trunk? It doesn't fit. My hands are chapped from holding onto the silly thing as we drove home with it tied to the car roof. On to other less strange things now. I'm mostly through "Prince Caspian" having finished "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe" friday evening. I don't yet get why Phish wrote a song about Prince Caspian... from the lyrics I'd guess the answer will be found in "The Voyage of the Dawn Treader". Got a second kids book idea which may turn into a more novelly story about a girl who discovers there are no such things as stone/concrete garden animals because they are actually real animals that have been turned to stone by the bad people. Not much yet, is it? It'll get better.
03/14/00 - So far the Dawn Treader has revealed no insight but let's talk about Marta. The little rat has a cut foot. Apparently her toenail jammed into an adjacent toe. Our vet (the stellar Dr Ryder) says Marta may be able to avoid stitches if a bandage can be kept on the wound for 5 to 7 days. So far Marta has pulled the cotton between her toes out of 3 bandages in a little over 12 hours. Dr Ryder had to dope Marta for the initial bandaging... the effects were staggering but only lasted until Kara and I went to sleep at which point RatDog became aware she MIGHT be able to walk and rip the bandages off which she attempted over and over and over and over and over thoughtout the night. Needless to say Marta is great practice for the baby on the way. Not that I want practice just yet... at least not every night like I'm getting now. But as the choice is between living with the inconvenience or the unacceptable I guess I'll continue to lose sleep... and my temper every now and then. Well, that was unexciting. Sorry.
03/15/00 - This kid... well, he was wound. It started with one finger... it looked slightly twisted... then the nail was on the palm side and the knuckles looked like a spiral stair. Then the next finger started. It didn't hurt but it looked very strange when fingers bent. It look like a well used tooth brush with 4 bristles and a thumb or maybe like a fork with all the tines bent every which way. Then the arm started and then the neck and the torso and the legs followed until finally only the toes remained fixed... but they finally twisted, too. Boy, was that boy wound. People would try not to stare but it was so hard. How many times did he hear them whisper "Vera, did you see how tightly wound that boy is?" You'd be surprised how many Veras there are; the boy was. I think he counted to 865 before loosing count. He's at 1736 plus or minus 15 or so. Of course doctors were consulted... about all they could say was: "It's not Elephantitis". He knew that. At least his clothes still fit. His biggest fear is he'll come unwound rapidly during the night and get so twisted in his sheets he won't be able to get up to go to the bathroom. Haven't you ever gotten twisted in your sheets just from rolling over lazily... imagine if you were spinning like a propeller. I told him the French have a saying that might ease his mind but when he asked me to write it I stuttered. I can't sp sp spell French; I wrote this: Kay Sir Rah Sir Rah. He laughed. That made him feel better.
03/16/00 - Today is Kara's birthday. I love Kara therefore I love today. Kara likes birthdays... which is another reason for me to like today... like another reason is necessary. We got up at 5:30 when the dogs got up which is before most people and animals on the east coast of the USA got up because the sun isn't even out at that time of day... it's close though. Marta had removed her bandage overnight so we rewrapped her foot in gunk and gauze then Kara did some dishes while I took the dogs out back to relieve themselves. All four of us then ate breakfast. Kara had cereal, banana and yogurt; I had cereal; Emelie and Marta had dog food. Kara also opened a few birthday goodies... a card, stamps and a CD. I watched and smiled at my beautiful wife; she gives me that pleasure no matter whose birthday it is. Well, we finished eating, got ready for work then went to work. Here we are. The dogs are home eating italian ice and watching Geraldo (lucky scamps). Here's hoping Kara has a great birthday followed by tens of thousands more great and happy days... with another great birthday every year.
03/17/00 - St Patrick's Day... I've my green bagel, red beard and a mug of coffee I've called Guiness for the occasion. I can spell shillelagh... who needs Irish blood? Actually, I think Guiness IS Irish blood. The fact that my Guiness is now just coffee does effect the equation slightly BUT, fear not, Irish blood will find my veins ere the day ends. Also, drink Harp, not Bass today, too. Well, it's a short entry today but I'll end with an Irishman's name: Thomas Francis Meagher.
03/20/00 - In my little work world I am King this week... no one else is here. Well, Ray is here so I guess I'll let him have some insignificant title like Duke Master of Bytes with the responsiblity of triaging all work that comes my way so I may sit and eat the best candy from the bowl (no competition thie week) and read about things on the web. The fact is I don't even want to do that. It's bleak outside, and as much as I like bleak, it sucks the joy from a work day when there isn't a soul around the office except Ray. See, I pick on the Duke Master of Bytes but actually, as far as folks go, Ray is got much more good than bad. I wouldn't acknowledge him if it were otherwise... He certainly wouldn't make this page if he were truly a clod. So maybe in the Kingdom that is mine this week I'll through more favor his way. Perhaps he'll even get some land... he can have from his office to the double doors to our hall as his dominion... the serfs within can pay him tribute and he won't even have to pass it all to me. He can hunt that land, too, and all deer there shall be his. Duke of the 20 Square Foot Un-Wood shall be his new title. Of course his lands will be the first invaded if the network team decides to invade my Kingdom so I'll expect him to raise an army. That sounds reasonable, right?
03/21/00 - Greetings Subjects and Friends. The state of the Kingdom is good if you can discount the fact the Kingdom is bad... well, not bad but certainly not Camelot. My Queen is elsewhere. The Duke of the 20 Square Foot Un-Wood is yet to arrive so I'm stuck with the work. The Duke will be here soon; he arrives circa 8:30. The coffee sucks. Why can't I send an army to conquor a Starbucks or something? I'll get the Duke on that first thing. Fruit. I think I'd like some fruit. See, I've no subject to fulfill my whims. I need a whimsical subject. It's too bad belches aren't money. I could buy some good stuff. Ok, maybe the King has come unglued... but what do you expect from a Kingdom like this one? Hey... there goes my nose! Mom told me it was too runny for regular glue. Oh well. The King needn't a nose... especially with Hay Fever season approaching and diaper season just after that. Tycho Brahe, after lossing his nose in a duel (I believe), functioned fine. But the King shall not cast away his nose so quickly. Perhaps I'll pocket it and save it for later.
03/22/00 - Back to the coffee shop with the Unibomber and the Spector of Meningitis, both of whom are looking rather gaunt. It seems without publicity they get that way. Here's the rub: These guys really aren't that bad when you talk to them straight up. All three of us like our coffee hot. None of us like rainy days when we have to be a work. In fact all of us would rather be at home reading a book. The problem is they were cursed with a skill no one likes. Now the world wants them killed. And who can blame the world? I leave my seat at the coffee shop and walk around unnoticed. Either of them so much as catch another's eye and people scatter. That's our biggest difference... that I don't go around killing people for hugging machines or bacteria and viruses. Well, the world will probably get its way and perhaps be a livelier place for these guy's absence unless maybe it won't. The thing is: no one knows. But it's always been that way... and it likely always will. That's why we enjoy coffee while we can and try to learn something from our conversations because what matters is not as much the unknown then but the known now. It's actually blindingly simple, don't you think? But the thing that bothers me is what my father always said about saving money for the future. I believe him, too. Hmmm, more coffee guys?
03/23/00 - Ok, another children's book story... no title yet. Hannah is a little girl who wanders away from home and gets lost. She finds herself in a garden and plops down beside a gardengoyle thing... concrete sculpture with a monkey body, wings and goatish head. She says to it: "If you were real you could use those wings to fly up for a better view and help me find my way home." Then she starts to cry. Her tears fall on the statue which suddenly starts to shake and crack and break free of the stone casing that's trapped it. It helps her find her way home and tells her most stone statues are actually magic creatures that have been turned to stone to remove their influence from the world by an evil person who wants to rid the world of magic. Hannah decides she'll find this evil person and put an end to their plans. It's latter learned that the evil person is the head of a TV station that broadcasts only commercials and dull educational programs. Ok, that's a very brief outline... I've actually more than just that but it's not all fitting together smoothly, yet.
03/24/00 - Well, the Kingdom has been invaded by its former inhabitants and the King is now just a serf like he was in the days before the Kingdom's Golden Age. Sucks. Well, were I to remain King nothing would get done. As a serf I'm pretty good... as a King I spend too much time enjoying my wealth and too little time caring for the Kingdom's needs. What was the Peter Principle, again? To bad this place doesn't need beats and pictures of mugs with eyes and a beards, eh? Well, I guess it's important to know I'm a better serf than king. Why it's better I don't know... it destroys the hope of ever having a successful kingdom but then it also destroys the despair of ever having a kingdom crumble around me... still, it's not a fair trade, is it? Well, maybe I'll just smile and drink coffee swill and seek different kingdoms in foreign lands.
03/27/00 - One year ago today I got married. That makes today my anniversary. The wedding was @ 5pm and I can tell you everyone who attended. I spent the night before alone in a hotel... I watched a Coolio documentary on MTV... huh? I got up early and hiked House Mountain with Dad, Walter (Kara'a father), Tim (my sister's husband) and Darryl (a friend from Iowa). I scratched Kara's and my initials on the top (gave the rock with which I scratched to Kara that evening). We got down, ate pizza at Frank's Pizza and got ready for the service. I remember being nervous before the service. I remember people looking out the window and commenting on Kara's walk to the Lee Chapel across the W&L Campus with her dress blowing in the wind... I didn't see it but I have a picture in my head. I remember the door opening to let her inside. I remember walking down the aisle with my sister. I remember seeing Kara and her brother make their way to the front. I remember crying. I have the same feeling in my throat right now thinking back about that day and the best decision I ever made. I love you, Kara. And I happily say this anyone who will listen... today and every day.
03/28/00 - Today's topic is salads... more explicitly: that which people call salads. Step one: go to the grocery store. Step two: find premade salads. Step three: Note their ingredients (iceberg lettuce, carrot shavings, green peppers, mealy tomatoes... all but the first in trace amounts). Step four: Never again call this a salad... instead call it what it is: a vessel for dressing. By my proclamation only things with actual flavor can be combined and called a salad. Allow me to give you an example: Baby spinach, grape tomatoes, steamed asparagus and avocado. Mix these and USE NO DRESSING. It's awesome and worthy of the name salad. Plus it's good for you and fairly filling. The added bonus is when you awake at 2am and go to the restroom you will remember what you last had to eat... Thank you, Mr Asparagus. Ok, now it is time to wrap up and state the important points. If you need dressing a) it's not a salad and b) it's probably not that good for you. For a salad: mix good things and eat it untainted by added flavor, fat and chemicals. A salad should bear the responsibility for its own flavor.
03/29/00 - I guess everyone knows I program computers. It's like training dogs without pee on the carpet and poop in the back yard PLUS you don't have to use treats and computers always do exactly what you ask which isn't necessarily what you want. Ok, so I have to admit programming can be fun. Take my last few hours of work. I was tasked to make some changes to a program that reports which classes had fewer seats than desired by students. The report took FOREVER to answer the question. It's more than slightly frustrating to test changes when each test takes FOREVER (I know older programmers are pointing their canes at me from their rockers and saying things like "In my day, Sonny, we had punch cards and a program could take all day to run...". So?). Back to my tale: I took this shoddy piece of code and made it give me the same answer in a matter of seconds. That's fun. Basically, I did nothing. Does the registrar's office really care that they can know something 60 times faster. They may say they do but I doubt it makes a hill of beans worth of actual difference to them. And that's why I can I smile. I took several hours to do nothing new and I was made happy by the process and that's good for me. Well, I guess I better get back to making myself smile here in the fun shop.
03/30/00 - I finished the Narnia Chronicles... they had a happy sad ending. Like good books tend to do they've occupied my mind. Well, it's off to Tolkien now. I pulled out the Hobbit and found a boarding pass for flight I took 6 years ago. I also found Peggy Flemming's boarding pass. I wish I knew how it got there. Doesn't that just sound like something I'd fabricate? I think so. The story would probably involve a coffee shop on ice and a few other characters... we'll pick Bert and Ernie this time. So there sat Bert, Ernie and I talking baseball when up skates Peggy Flemming. Unfortunately her path took her right through the melted spot on the ice where my first cup of coffee fell (my feet aren't too sure on ice). Her skates caught the frictionful (opposite of frictionless) spot and she went tumbling head over skates into our table. After saying she doubted McGwire could swat close to 70 this year she collected herself and her path took her elsewhere... it wasn't until much later Ernie discoverd Peggy's boarding stub between pages 206 and 207 of the Hobbit given to me by my uncle and aunt when I was 12. But while the story isn't true the boarding pass is in my copy of the Hobbit. Any skating fan want to buy it?
03/31/00 - Justiceville George Adams drives an old Chevy pickup. He likes it well enough having been with him through many adventures... well, what he calls adventures might not meet everyone's definition but that's not the point. Justiceville is happy with his pickup. He's also happy with his name which has not always been the case. Justiceville, Arkansas used to be a town. It was on the Mississippi river until it wasn't. Justiceville, Arkansas was the home of Mr and Mrs Clarence George Adams who live there until the town was destroyed 13 weeks before the birth of their son. It seems the mighty Mississippi changed course one spring and decided it would rather be where Justiceville, Arkansas was which was great for no one but the people of Brownwater, Mississippi which now sits where the mighty Mississippi once sat before the river decided it would rather sit on Justiceville, Arkansas. Mr and Mrs Clarence George Adams missed their former town so much they named their son after it. Justiceville lived his first 18 or so years in sheer amazement of his parent's seemingly cruel decision until, like the mighty Mississippi, he changed course.