Thursday, July 31. 2008
delicious.com?? WTF?
Are you bonehead corporate types over at Y!ahoo so f-ing clueless? Its not delicious.com, as the new "Delicious 2.0" now sends us to. Its del.icio.us. Why? Why ruin such a perfect domain name and branding with this .com crap?! Forward the .com to the .us fer chrissakes, not the other way around!!!
This is just lame corporate bullshit at work. "Gee, uh, shouldn't we be a dot-com, Bob?" "Um, Yeah, I think you're right, Bob!" "We should just change it, nobody's going to notice." (together) "Hahahaha!"
Geez, what a bonehead move.
This is just lame corporate bullshit at work. "Gee, uh, shouldn't we be a dot-com, Bob?" "Um, Yeah, I think you're right, Bob!" "We should just change it, nobody's going to notice." (together) "Hahahaha!"
Geez, what a bonehead move.
Monday, July 14. 2008
The Problem With DVR's
And the schedules they acquire. I set up my MythTV box Saturday night to record 'Dial M For Murder.' I'd not seen it before, but have been waiting for the opportunity. Great! I set it up, and let it run.
I go to watch it and notice that the movie didn't start until about 5-6 minutes after it was supposed to. Hm, I thought. This could be bad at the end, but maybe its close enough it won't matter.
WRONG!!
Hitchcock's ghost comes back from the grave, and just as the inspector is about to tell the lovely Margot how he's figured out she's innocent and the conniving Tony is guilty, in a moment of sheer spiteful irony.... Right at that moment....
END. FIN. The recording stops!! ARGH. If ever there was a moment I wanted to put a brick through that TV, that was it!
I go to watch it and notice that the movie didn't start until about 5-6 minutes after it was supposed to. Hm, I thought. This could be bad at the end, but maybe its close enough it won't matter.
WRONG!!
Hitchcock's ghost comes back from the grave, and just as the inspector is about to tell the lovely Margot how he's figured out she's innocent and the conniving Tony is guilty, in a moment of sheer spiteful irony.... Right at that moment....
END. FIN. The recording stops!! ARGH. If ever there was a moment I wanted to put a brick through that TV, that was it!
Monday, July 7. 2008
Randomness Begins
So I figure, since I've got this blog with (counts on fingers) four domains pointing at it (I will dominate the ripp-dots someday!!) I should start doing something with it. Yeah sure I post some garbage (french pronunciation, if you don't mind) from time to time, usually when I realize, "Oh, sh*t, I have a website!" or something really ticks me off. Usually I forget about it. How messed up is that? Or I try to pimp some latest project or other to get some of that much-coveted google link-juice.
To wit, The 4th of July was just 3 days ago (counts on fingers again to confirm) yeah three. Independence Day. For those of you not in the US, lets just say it involves waving the flag around, setting off explosives and celebrating our insurgency, er I mean, rebellion from the British oppressors some two-hundred-and-thirty odd years ago.
I was sitting in the living room, and started hearing this rumbling sound. Now, a bit of background is necessary. I live somewhere between civilization and BFE (look it up) in Oklahoma. I say between because the main highway is just a quarter-mile down the road, and any unusual rumblings can usually be attributed to some truck driver air-braking on his way into the truck stop at the corner.
Not so tonight. The sound didn't stop. I went out the front door and was treated to a most peculiar display of sound and light. It seems that this year, everyone within five miles of my front door was setting off fireworks. A full 180-degree view of random airbursts could be seen, and the flashes from the ones that didn't make it over the trees.
But the sound. Normally, the wind is blowing a constant 20 mph. All. The time. With gusts to thirty. Its a rare occasion to have no wind, and tonight was one of those. The sound of these fireworks was only as I'd imagine it would sound like in a war zone. The low, distant, thumpthump concussions that you can feel in the ground, and in the air, posing as artillery or air-dropped ordnance. Random rat-a-tat-tats of firecrackers posing as machine gun fire. Medium-sized shells making a solid bang sounding like light mortars.
The flashes just over the trees became villages just over the horizon, being annihilated by squadrons of B-17s somewhere in Germany sixty years ago. It was surreal in the sheer amount of it. I sat there for a solid hour-and-a-half, listening and watching the battle unfold.
Then I realized I was being assaulted in my own by the local mosquito contigent. Back inside. Ten years I've been in this house, and this is the first time I've ever witnessed an apocalypse of that magnitude. In years past I've either been somewhere else, or a combination of high winds and dry, ultra-flammable prairie grassland have kept the missions at bay.
It was one of those "moments of clarity" that you get on a rare occasion.
To wit, The 4th of July was just 3 days ago (counts on fingers again to confirm) yeah three. Independence Day. For those of you not in the US, lets just say it involves waving the flag around, setting off explosives and celebrating our insurgency, er I mean, rebellion from the British oppressors some two-hundred-and-thirty odd years ago.
I was sitting in the living room, and started hearing this rumbling sound. Now, a bit of background is necessary. I live somewhere between civilization and BFE (look it up) in Oklahoma. I say between because the main highway is just a quarter-mile down the road, and any unusual rumblings can usually be attributed to some truck driver air-braking on his way into the truck stop at the corner.
Not so tonight. The sound didn't stop. I went out the front door and was treated to a most peculiar display of sound and light. It seems that this year, everyone within five miles of my front door was setting off fireworks. A full 180-degree view of random airbursts could be seen, and the flashes from the ones that didn't make it over the trees.
But the sound. Normally, the wind is blowing a constant 20 mph. All. The time. With gusts to thirty. Its a rare occasion to have no wind, and tonight was one of those. The sound of these fireworks was only as I'd imagine it would sound like in a war zone. The low, distant, thumpthump concussions that you can feel in the ground, and in the air, posing as artillery or air-dropped ordnance. Random rat-a-tat-tats of firecrackers posing as machine gun fire. Medium-sized shells making a solid bang sounding like light mortars.
The flashes just over the trees became villages just over the horizon, being annihilated by squadrons of B-17s somewhere in Germany sixty years ago. It was surreal in the sheer amount of it. I sat there for a solid hour-and-a-half, listening and watching the battle unfold.
Then I realized I was being assaulted in my own by the local mosquito contigent. Back inside. Ten years I've been in this house, and this is the first time I've ever witnessed an apocalypse of that magnitude. In years past I've either been somewhere else, or a combination of high winds and dry, ultra-flammable prairie grassland have kept the missions at bay.
It was one of those "moments of clarity" that you get on a rare occasion.
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