i've been a fan of Pink Floyd since i guess someone in college gave me a copy of Dark Side of the Moon, or Wish You Were Here, or both, i can't quite recall. not something you can listen to while you're spring cleaning, or on a summer road trip, but still has its place as creative, ear-interesting music.
i'd watched The Wall movie once all the way through before, mostly remembering the phantasmagorical WW2 animation of marching hammers and black eagles spreading across the landscape; with the visuals, though, the music of the soundtrack didn't really have 100 % of your attention.
just recently i got a copy of the 2-disc Wall cd set; having listened to it a few times now at work i can say that, while i have never personally been mentally insane and therefore not an expert on mental instability, it does seem that no one is going to make a musical saga that better captures what you feel would be an accurate portrayal of the roller coaster of someone going bonkers from the combined weight of daddy / mommy issues, drug addiction and rock'n'roll stardom.
i think it's something in the vocals that's different from other albums in their catalog; the music is not so much different from other Pink Floyd psyhcedelic weirdness, but the singer sounds genuinely strung out and weird.
"i got wild, staring eyes; i gotta strong urge to flyy.... but i've got nowhere to fly to (fly to) (fly to)"
Friday, April 11, 2008
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
The Threshold for Item Returns
catching up on some old posts on the 'draft' backburner:
back in late January i found myself in need of making some sports equipment repairs to my goaltender's chest protector.
the chest protector is essentially three individual pieces, two heavily padded arms and one high-density-foam-filled chest area, made as one functioning whole by the use of laces tying the arms to the chest area.
as weakest links in the places of highest motion-generated stress go, these laces are worn down over the course of many games by my save-related arm gyrations until one day you're making a stick save and you realize that your right arm padding has become segregated from the rest of your otherwise whole and impenetrable armor.
being a resourceful man i drove myself to the nearest Academy less than a mile away to pick up some replacement laces. as per usual with most of my repair parts shopping, though, i prevented the selection process through my own internal deliberations from being as simple as it could have been for someone else.
sidling up to the shoelace display, i reviewed the candidates on their merits and eventually whittled down to two options: a pair of thick black cotton sport laces and a pair of square-shaped leather hiking boot laces.
after that point, however, the ability to pick a clear winner proved difficult.
the hiking boot laces were a little thin but they were leather so they might last a while. would they, though, hold a tight and lasting knot?
the sport laces were made of a less durable material but surely the knot that could be secured with them would be second to none!
in the end i made the call to buy both of them as the additional cost to buy the second, possibly unneeded, pair was negligible.
tests of the laces at home on the chest protector proved the sport laces as the appropriate choice and earned them the right to become a component of the goaltending equipment arsenal.
thinking back, i believe i had no intention of returning the unused laces to Academy; they would surely be used for some other miscellaneous application (tying a small box closed or some such thing) and even if they went unused the dollar value sunk into them did not exceed the value of the use of my car's gasoline and my time.
somehow, though, on a day not long after the original purchase i found myself at the Academy with hiking boot laces and receipt in hand and walked out of the store with my refunded monies of one dollar and sixty-one cents.
my reasons for going back against my original conviction to leave sleeping boot laces lie are still unknown today but it got me thinking and you could ask yourself as well..
What minimum value would it take to motivate you to transport an unneeded consumer good back to a nearby (in the general area) store to convert it back into freely transferable, government-backed currency?
my spoken beliefs may say otherwise, but apparently my actions tell me my personal answer is $1.61
back in late January i found myself in need of making some sports equipment repairs to my goaltender's chest protector.
the chest protector is essentially three individual pieces, two heavily padded arms and one high-density-foam-filled chest area, made as one functioning whole by the use of laces tying the arms to the chest area.
as weakest links in the places of highest motion-generated stress go, these laces are worn down over the course of many games by my save-related arm gyrations until one day you're making a stick save and you realize that your right arm padding has become segregated from the rest of your otherwise whole and impenetrable armor.
being a resourceful man i drove myself to the nearest Academy less than a mile away to pick up some replacement laces. as per usual with most of my repair parts shopping, though, i prevented the selection process through my own internal deliberations from being as simple as it could have been for someone else.
sidling up to the shoelace display, i reviewed the candidates on their merits and eventually whittled down to two options: a pair of thick black cotton sport laces and a pair of square-shaped leather hiking boot laces.
after that point, however, the ability to pick a clear winner proved difficult.
the hiking boot laces were a little thin but they were leather so they might last a while. would they, though, hold a tight and lasting knot?
the sport laces were made of a less durable material but surely the knot that could be secured with them would be second to none!
in the end i made the call to buy both of them as the additional cost to buy the second, possibly unneeded, pair was negligible.
tests of the laces at home on the chest protector proved the sport laces as the appropriate choice and earned them the right to become a component of the goaltending equipment arsenal.
thinking back, i believe i had no intention of returning the unused laces to Academy; they would surely be used for some other miscellaneous application (tying a small box closed or some such thing) and even if they went unused the dollar value sunk into them did not exceed the value of the use of my car's gasoline and my time.
somehow, though, on a day not long after the original purchase i found myself at the Academy with hiking boot laces and receipt in hand and walked out of the store with my refunded monies of one dollar and sixty-one cents.
my reasons for going back against my original conviction to leave sleeping boot laces lie are still unknown today but it got me thinking and you could ask yourself as well..
What minimum value would it take to motivate you to transport an unneeded consumer good back to a nearby (in the general area) store to convert it back into freely transferable, government-backed currency?
my spoken beliefs may say otherwise, but apparently my actions tell me my personal answer is $1.61
Monday, February 18, 2008
Knight Rider
was at the in-laws on sunday night; the new and improved Knight Rider movie was on tv; i watched about 15 intermittent minutes of it, but in that time i learned a lot.
depending on your level of interest you may or may not know that they changed Kitt from the original car type (trans am i believe) to a souped-up Ford Mustang. also, the guy driving it this time is Michael Knight's son. also, he's called Mike.
also, apparently when they were designing this Kitt, this supercar, they forgot to throw the bulletproof windows because the passenger side got shot out, but good
also, in the final chase scene we came to understand that Kitt can withstand, without noticeable damage, a side impact collision from a speeding SUV into Kitt's driver side (but the glass, surprisingly, did not break..... SUV-proof glass, as it were)
also, they had this weird way of cutting to commercials, not necessarily when the tension at its apex or anything, more like people are talking and someone just decides to say something and then stand silent for a moment or two, staring blankly, until the cut to advertising.
also, one of those cuts to commercial came at the end when, yes, we spot long-missing father figure Michael Knight (aka Hasselhoff!) in the blurry distance.
also, Michael Knight said something to Mike, i'm not sure what, i wasn't paying attention. also, Mike didn't want to drive Kitt anymore after the mission was over but then something (wasn't paying attention) made him change his mind. suppose Mike will be cleared for his first of many exciting new adventures each week once the execs crunch the viewership numbers and find them acceptable.
my one-sentence summary of the movie and the majority of its commercials (or the portion that i saw of each):
"Michael, I'm detecting a 99.4% probability that even a high-risk youth with a troubled past like yourself can still get an attractive seven-year loan on a great new car like me at your local Ford dealership"
(UPDATE! the always-enjoyable TV Club feature over at the Onion's AV Club tells me the reason that KITT's passenger window was shot out but its driver's side window remained unfazed from a direct SUV hit: nanotechnology! you see, the nanobots repair all of the car's body structure but only when the on-board computer is enabled of course. just so happened that they had to shut down KITT's computer earlier because the bad guys were about to override his codes and take control of.... eh you don't care)
depending on your level of interest you may or may not know that they changed Kitt from the original car type (trans am i believe) to a souped-up Ford Mustang. also, the guy driving it this time is Michael Knight's son. also, he's called Mike.
also, apparently when they were designing this Kitt, this supercar, they forgot to throw the bulletproof windows because the passenger side got shot out, but good
also, in the final chase scene we came to understand that Kitt can withstand, without noticeable damage, a side impact collision from a speeding SUV into Kitt's driver side (but the glass, surprisingly, did not break..... SUV-proof glass, as it were)
also, they had this weird way of cutting to commercials, not necessarily when the tension at its apex or anything, more like people are talking and someone just decides to say something and then stand silent for a moment or two, staring blankly, until the cut to advertising.
also, one of those cuts to commercial came at the end when, yes, we spot long-missing father figure Michael Knight (aka Hasselhoff!) in the blurry distance.
also, Michael Knight said something to Mike, i'm not sure what, i wasn't paying attention. also, Mike didn't want to drive Kitt anymore after the mission was over but then something (wasn't paying attention) made him change his mind. suppose Mike will be cleared for his first of many exciting new adventures each week once the execs crunch the viewership numbers and find them acceptable.
my one-sentence summary of the movie and the majority of its commercials (or the portion that i saw of each):
"Michael, I'm detecting a 99.4% probability that even a high-risk youth with a troubled past like yourself can still get an attractive seven-year loan on a great new car like me at your local Ford dealership"
(UPDATE! the always-enjoyable TV Club feature over at the Onion's AV Club tells me the reason that KITT's passenger window was shot out but its driver's side window remained unfazed from a direct SUV hit: nanotechnology! you see, the nanobots repair all of the car's body structure but only when the on-board computer is enabled of course. just so happened that they had to shut down KITT's computer earlier because the bad guys were about to override his codes and take control of.... eh you don't care)
Lady in the Black Mercedes SLK
Lady in the Black Mercedes SLK, driving south on highway 288 on sunday afternoon, you are a special traveler, a beacon of magnificence among us commoners.
not satisfied with the 80 mph pace set by myself and the rest of the highway occupants on the relatively uncluttered road, you weave in and out of traffic, tailgating and generally demonstrating the kind of driving maneuvers that would be inconsiderate at best, dangerous at worst, in a more 'pedestrian' automobile.
but you are the lady in the black Mercedes SLK, and as such in line with your high-performance luxury vehicle must necessarily possess steering, acceleration, and braking skills the likes of which i and the other drivers sharing the road with you that day dare only imagine.
it was rather insolent of those three cars to line up abreast at that one point across all lanes but your quick problem-solving skills easily circumvented that moving barrier. using the exit lane to go around the line of cars and cut back onto the highway at the last second was a masterful move and was surely recognized as such by the car in the right lane as he regained his composure from having almost merged into you, who at the time was passing him on the right at a high rate of speed, while he was trying to use the exit lane for its actual purpose of exiting the freeway.
speed on, lady in the black Mercedes SLK; i and my other moving obstacles cheer your journey and thrill at what feats of driving you may divine to exhibit to us in future days.
not satisfied with the 80 mph pace set by myself and the rest of the highway occupants on the relatively uncluttered road, you weave in and out of traffic, tailgating and generally demonstrating the kind of driving maneuvers that would be inconsiderate at best, dangerous at worst, in a more 'pedestrian' automobile.
but you are the lady in the black Mercedes SLK, and as such in line with your high-performance luxury vehicle must necessarily possess steering, acceleration, and braking skills the likes of which i and the other drivers sharing the road with you that day dare only imagine.
it was rather insolent of those three cars to line up abreast at that one point across all lanes but your quick problem-solving skills easily circumvented that moving barrier. using the exit lane to go around the line of cars and cut back onto the highway at the last second was a masterful move and was surely recognized as such by the car in the right lane as he regained his composure from having almost merged into you, who at the time was passing him on the right at a high rate of speed, while he was trying to use the exit lane for its actual purpose of exiting the freeway.
speed on, lady in the black Mercedes SLK; i and my other moving obstacles cheer your journey and thrill at what feats of driving you may divine to exhibit to us in future days.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
the grammar monster surges forth from within!
as my loving wife will gladly tell you, i am annoyingly fixated on proper grammar and spelling (though not so much on punctuation and capitalization in informal writings, as this blog will no doubt validate)
where i got this fixation i'm not quite sure; in my early years the deed/reward system was most lucrative in the field of arithmetic, where those who won blackboard math races (to see who could finish a math problem the fastest) were lavished with candy bars as the spoils of victory. not those pathetic fun-size candy bars; the REAL kind, full-size.
maybe it's just a small piece of personality derived from my overall desire for accuracy in the world, who knows
point is i can find myself standing at a coworker's desk as we work on an issue and as she types an email to parties related to the matter, i scan her monitor and see that one of her email folders is labeled
"Ethanol Bill of Ladings"
and the grammar monster inside me makes silent note that the folder should be properly labeled
"Ethanol Bills of Lading"
but i control the grammar monster, he does not control me; and so i am not seen to involuntarily grab the keyboard away from the user and make the change but instead leave it labeled as is , of my own free will, and continue to harbor my terrible, technically-correct-but-eye-roll-inducing-to-those-less-emotionally-invested curse.
where i got this fixation i'm not quite sure; in my early years the deed/reward system was most lucrative in the field of arithmetic, where those who won blackboard math races (to see who could finish a math problem the fastest) were lavished with candy bars as the spoils of victory. not those pathetic fun-size candy bars; the REAL kind, full-size.
maybe it's just a small piece of personality derived from my overall desire for accuracy in the world, who knows
point is i can find myself standing at a coworker's desk as we work on an issue and as she types an email to parties related to the matter, i scan her monitor and see that one of her email folders is labeled
"Ethanol Bill of Ladings"
and the grammar monster inside me makes silent note that the folder should be properly labeled
"Ethanol Bills of Lading"
but i control the grammar monster, he does not control me; and so i am not seen to involuntarily grab the keyboard away from the user and make the change but instead leave it labeled as is , of my own free will, and continue to harbor my terrible, technically-correct-but-eye-roll-inducing-to-those-less-emotionally-invested curse.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Graffiti-ed!
the men's bathroom on our office floor (outside of our actual office, near the elevator bank) has been vandalized by graffiti!
one of the stall doors has, i believe, something like "Crips H Town" written on it in that hastily-written Gothic English font
i didn't realize our building was the subject of a turf war; what wanna-be gangbanger takes an elevator up fifty-one floors to claim a bathroom?
guess i should be more careful, stop wearing so much red to work.
one of the stall doors has, i believe, something like "Crips H Town" written on it in that hastily-written Gothic English font
i didn't realize our building was the subject of a turf war; what wanna-be gangbanger takes an elevator up fifty-one floors to claim a bathroom?
guess i should be more careful, stop wearing so much red to work.
Friday, January 04, 2008
Monkeybutt
hi (and happy new year) to any loyal readers who still check in despite my not having blogged in a while
busy at work here but i'll put down a quick anecdote to satiate until i can get around to my backlog of post drafts
back in August of this year we brought in a new member of our pet family, a 1 1/2 year old male pug named Louie (named so on account of his Louisiana origins)
we've watched him transform from a shy and cautious rescue case to a very energetic and happy-go-lucky dog and he has melded well with Nerf and Pugston since his arrival. he's also a world-class lap dog, settling in place quickly on most nights during movies / TV / Xbox with admirable efficiency and economy of motion.
for christmas the dogs received several new toys, one of which is a small stuffed monkey. Louie seems to enjoy playing with that particular toy quite a bit and will often leave him lying in one of the dog beds in our room.
one night on or around the New Year, we had come home and dressed Louie in his belly band (basically a dog diaper, he has not quite mastered the self-restraint that Pugston possesses and has been known to still mark or pee indoors so we had to take preventative measures)
the velcro had not been fastened particularly flush so there was still some portion of the sticky velcro side exposed. Louie sat down in his bed for a while, actually sitting down on the monkey.
the monkey became stuck to the sticky velcro on the band; when Louie got bored of the bed and rose to walk around and see what was going on, the monkey went right along with him, seemingly stuck to his behind. but not for my efforts (after some amount of time spent amusedly watching the duo travel around together) the monkey might still be riding his posterior.
and therefore to me his secondary name will from now on always be Monkeybutt.
busy at work here but i'll put down a quick anecdote to satiate until i can get around to my backlog of post drafts
back in August of this year we brought in a new member of our pet family, a 1 1/2 year old male pug named Louie (named so on account of his Louisiana origins)
we've watched him transform from a shy and cautious rescue case to a very energetic and happy-go-lucky dog and he has melded well with Nerf and Pugston since his arrival. he's also a world-class lap dog, settling in place quickly on most nights during movies / TV / Xbox with admirable efficiency and economy of motion.
for christmas the dogs received several new toys, one of which is a small stuffed monkey. Louie seems to enjoy playing with that particular toy quite a bit and will often leave him lying in one of the dog beds in our room.
one night on or around the New Year, we had come home and dressed Louie in his belly band (basically a dog diaper, he has not quite mastered the self-restraint that Pugston possesses and has been known to still mark or pee indoors so we had to take preventative measures)
the velcro had not been fastened particularly flush so there was still some portion of the sticky velcro side exposed. Louie sat down in his bed for a while, actually sitting down on the monkey.
the monkey became stuck to the sticky velcro on the band; when Louie got bored of the bed and rose to walk around and see what was going on, the monkey went right along with him, seemingly stuck to his behind. but not for my efforts (after some amount of time spent amusedly watching the duo travel around together) the monkey might still be riding his posterior.
and therefore to me his secondary name will from now on always be Monkeybutt.
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