Do these things really come in threes?

This ain't no pity post, just a statement of my current reality. Actually, my mental/emotional state is pretty good, but let's not try and find out where the breaking point is.

Yesterday I started out the day feeling pretty good, but on the way to work I began to feel pain in my lower right abdomen. I'd say it was a gall bladder flare up, but I had that removed in February. The pain kept up all day. I had a lunch scheduled that I couldn't miss, so I went to that - didn't feel any better. In fact, worse after.

Around 2 I went to the restroom and got a little shock - my urine was the color of coffee.

Damn. Probably a kidney stone. I went home and was calling the doc on my cell phone (since that's where I have her number stored) when my home phone rang. It was my dad, who never calls during the day. My grandmother had died.

She's been on a steep decline for the last few months, so it wasn't a surprise or a shock. Just one more thing to deal with.

My doc was booked up, so I went to an "Urgent Care" doc-in-a-box. Surprisingly, it was new, well laid out, and not crowded. I was in and out in less than an hour. Yep, kidney stone, blood in the urine, and blood pressure (from the pain) way up. So I got a small prescription for painkiller and went home to try and sleep it off. Not really possible with the phone calls from family trying to make funeral arrangements.

So, today, Friday, I'm in the office. I should still be home drugged up, but the pain's not too bad at the moment, but I certainly don't feel good. I'm trying to get things organized for me to be gone through Wednesday of next week. We're so understaffed at the moment that's pretty difficult. I'll be noon before I can leave.

Then I have to go buy a dark suit. I don't wear suits for work any more and even if I did, none of my suits are dark and frankly, they don't fit any more. I need to make travel arrangements and get a hotel, which ain't easy in the farm country where I grew up. And some time between now and Monday I need to write a eulogy.

All things considered, I'm fine. Really. If I can just pass this damn stone before I have to spend 6 hours driving to Illinois I'll be better.

I'll post the eulogy and comments here next week.

Ocracoke

Today I'm wearing my "Pirates of Ocracoke" tee-shirt (which includes many different "Jolly Rogers", including "Not-so-Jolly Roger" and my favorite, the "Bloody Pissed-Off Roger") and wondering is Ocracoke will still be there when I return next summer.

The Outer Banks have been our family vacation spot for the past 15 years or so. We started going because of my interest in Wind Surfing, but since I blew out the disc in my back (surprisingly, also at the Outer Banks playing football on the beach) I don't do that any more. But we love the area and really enjoy visiting every year. But talk about a fragile environment. In most parts, it's a strip of sand you could spit across (if you could spit really far). It's peaceful and has large, undeveloped parts that are a joy to be in.

I see in the news reports that once again, some residents are considering not leaving. Are these the same people we see every time after the big storm saying, "thank God we survived. We'll never do that again!", but yet, here they are sitting out another one. Some day, maybe even this week, the hand of god in the form of a hurricane is going to scour those little barrier islands right off the face of the planet. Gone will be the million dollar vacation homes and little fishing huts. Gone the lighthouse they just drug back up the beach and away from the pounding surf. Gone the Wright Brothers monument, Kitty Hawk, Kill Devil Hills, Avon and our Buxton.

While I have a chance, I'll continue to visit Ocracoke every year, find my seat at on the deck of the Jolly Roger restaurant, have a beer and look out over the pond where Blackbeard himself held court. Hell, I'd retire there if I had the chance. But when a hurricane like Isabell had me in its headlights I'd tuck tale and head for the hills.

This can't be a good thing.

I've been reading about this.

A monster awakens?: "The inflated plain is a potential and serious hazard and possible precursor to a large hydrothermal explosion event."

Not going to Yellowstone any time soon. No siree Bob.

Got My Coffee and iTunes

Yes, a long week, but making some progress at lowering the corporate blood pressure. Now working on mine. It's 3:30 pm, someone just made a Starbucks run (Tall coffee, black, thank you) and I've got String Quartet In G Major, Op. 153 Allegro Animato by Camille Saint-Saens playing in the background. I started with Tom Waits, but it ain't that kind of afternoon.

Speaking of black coffee, here's a little bit of Murray family history. My father was one of four sons, raised not an 1/8th of a mile from where I grew up (actually, my childhood home was my great-grandfather's house and his father was the Irishman himself, who came from County Cork in the early 1860s. His brother joined the Union Army. Just like a scene out of "The Gangs of New York".) Anyhoo, my father is a big coffee drinker. He can drink it all day and all night long. And he drinks it black. My grandmother, though ill and in a nursing home, drinks it black as well. I've always said that she'd disinherit me if I put anything in my coffee. The rule around the Murray house is that anyone of any age can drink coffee, but you better not put anything in it.

Diane, not being a Murray by birth, ignores me and takes cream with her coffee. I can't stand it that way. I will, on occasion, have a fancy drink or cappuccino, but that's not really coffee, now is it?

I've also discovered my father's secret - he drinks his coffee weak, see-through. A cup of the way I drink it would straighten his hair.

And speaking of hair, he still has most of his, while I do not and have not for some time. My Grampa Murray was the same way. I recently saw a picture of him and my Uncle Jim - they were kneeling by what appears to be a bobcat they've shot - don't know where it was taken. Grampa passed away when I was seven or eight and I remember him well, but I was surprised at the physical resemblance. Shave my beard and I don't think you could tell us apart.

There's a man I would have benefited from knowing better.

CptnRandy On The Air

I'll be doing my day job tonight. Catch me live, or check out the archives, when they get it archived . . .

PC Chat Computer Radio Show

Then again, only if you really need to be sold some software.

What we need is one of these

OK, actually several of these, but I'll settle for one to start.

Space Elevator

Fantasy? Not on your life. The science is sound, as is the economics. Also see The Fountains of Paradise

Needs a warning label

I winced to see the photo about this major screwup that essentially destroyed a satellite, but this is what caught my attention:

"IMPACT ON PROGRAM/PROJECT AND SCHEDULE:

The shock and vibration of the fall undoubtedly caused tremendous damage. Significant rework and retest will be required. NOAA-N Prime is planned for launch in 2008."

They're on final prep on a satellite that won't launch for 5 years?

Now ask yourself, would you want a computer that was 5 years old? How about a 5 year old cell phone? Are we really that stacked up in getting things into space?

Our space program is more screwed up than I thought. Yes, the shuttle is aging and dangerous, but I haven't seen a strong plan for what's next and when it will be ready. This is important stuff.

Severe Damage To Spacecraft

Oooph. Ack.

Well, my wardrobe has been lacking in hoodies, so I suppose this whole Blogger Pro going bye bye could be considered a good thing.

Except I don't wear hoodies and I spent what, $60 bucks to get access to these features? I'd prefer a refund, thank you.

Today's Fortune Cookie

Behind an able man, there are always.

Eerily accurate, don't you think?

Maybe the Innis Mode Would Help

I saw this very interesting article, linked from Metafilter: Guardian Unlimited | Life | 'Science cannot provide all the answers'.

And yes, this is my experience as well. In all walks of life, one finds very intelligent people who continue to believe in God and an afterlife. Why is that?

Well, for one, I've found that many who have success in a particular area gain that by focus, that is exclusion of other areas of inquiry and close examination of a singular topic. That leaves them with their cultural equipment largely intact. They were brought up believing, and remain so. Ceasing to believe is very hard. It is much more rare to begin to believe when one was brought up without belief.

In addition, ceasing to believe is a very painful process, that may mean unraveling other assumptions about the world, breaking ties with friend and family, and perhaps most important, leaving a supportive community that religion may form. I've known many people within a particular religion who cease to believe, but keep their mouths shut and go through the motions, rather than give up this very real support.

Perhaps most importantly, ceasing to believe requires the abandonment of hope for an afterlife. When I examine that carefully, I see in myself that yearning for more, the hope for continuation. I don't find a lack of another life bleak and nihilistic, but it sure would be nice to go on. And beyond that, the thought of being reunited with loved ones is nearly irresistible.

It's so damn hard to give that up.

But then again, it is worth it.

How, you ask? Perspective, my friend. Give up all that, step back from the mess and it becomes possible to begin to see how it all works. Science, history, hell, even philosophy. None of it really comes together when you must force it into a particular believe system.

And something very astute from the article.

"Colin Humphreys says that quite a number of his colleagues at Cambridge are also believers. 'My impression is - and it is just an impression - that there are many more scientists on the academic staff who are believers than arts people.'

Tom McLeish says something similar. He cheerfully offers several reasons why that might be so, one of which might be called the postmodernist effect. 'Our dear friends in the humanities do get themselves awfully confused about whether the world exists, about whether each other exists, about whether words mean anything. Until they have sorted out whether cats and dogs exist or not, or are only figments in the mind of the reader, let alone the writer, then they are going to have problems talking about God.' "

For simplifying effect, let me lay out a few things that helps me:

1. The world is real.
2. While I'll grant that there may be more than "one way of knowing", science is the ONLY way of uncovering the fundamental workings of the universe AND communicating them reliably.
3. With an open, critical mind, one can always update and change one's maps.

"Christ, what an imagination I've got."

Some Weeks

God, what a tough week.

I've made a decision to not write about office politics, but I can't think of time I've had less turmoil and grief. It didn't involve me, but once again I've been in the middle of firing friends without cause. It hurts and there's no way around it.

Let's hope for a better one next week. 'Nuff said.

Overthinking the Robotic Plumbing

I saw this article linked at Metafilter.com:Robotic Freedom. I'll agree, robots and hyperautomation are an interesting topic, but this author, Marshall Brain, though he may know How Stuff Works, he doesn't have the faintest inkling what the real effects of displacing 80% of the world work force.

First, an economy isn't just the flow of capital - it's a form or control. So, if literally millions of US workers get dumped and have no hope of ever regaining employment, do you think they're just going to sit around? They're coming to see YOU, Mr. Boss Man.

Let's return to the Common, shall we? I, as an English Lord of the Manor, want not just to profit from the work of the serfs, but to control them, keep them from getting out of hand. I can do that if I can keep them employeed and just above miserable. Make them too happy and they'll want more. Make them too miserable and they'll want EVERYTHING.

To keep them employeed, I need to limit their alternate means of employment or sustanance and provide them with a wage that is only enough to keep them buying from the company store. That's why the Common must be controlled, or enclosed, preferably.

Getting ahead is bad and a middle class is intolerable.

So, the perfect robots are developed, thanks, we don't need you any more. Good for business? Not exactly. Who the hell is going to buy your wares? Other companies with their own robot workforces? This isn't a minor economic disruption that a few new welfare laws will take care of. This is a completely new economy. Sorry, Mr. Brain, even super-taxing the super-rich ain't gonna cut it.

And disruptive it will be. But I'm not sure it's a bad thing.

To let my imagination run wild, I think we have a better than even chance of "blooming" the internet before they put in the Robotic Walmart greeters. Blooming? Yes, blooming.

The internet isn't a place, it's a group of interconnected computers and the associated networks. It's not intelligent, and it's not owned, but it is regulated and monitored. It's only a first step, the caterpillar. Imagine, if you will, an explosion of nanotech that makes the internet all the things it's currently not: a place (everywhere), intelligent, and unownable. Now, what would life be like if energy were free, access to information like the air (literally the air), and all of ones basic needs available to all. Food and shelter a true instant gratification. What exactly would most people need to work for?

This is the robotic revolution Mr. Brain speaks of, but from the ground up. Workers would displace themselves. Populations would shift and move without respect to jobs. The need for labor would vanish, but also the market economy. If this blooming is benevolent, governments would cease to function in their current state as well.

I for one welcome the arrival of our new robotic masters.

10 Propositions

We should have elected Uncle Walter president by acclamation 20 years ago.

Ten propositions for the Democrats

Just Got My Assignment

The Dante's Inferno Test has sent you to the First Level of Hell - Limbo!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Very High
Level 2 (Lustful)	Moderate
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Moderate
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Very Low
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very High
Level 7 (Violent)	Low
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Moderate
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Low

Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test

A plan for the Weekend

I'm a bit more lenient with my definition - I prefer the Vodka martini. Over our anniversary on the 15th, Diane and I want to Legal Seafood in Boston. One of them anyway. Apparently they're a chain. Damn good seafood, though.

I ordered a "Flight" of Martinis - actually, I thought I was getting a bargain on a pitcher of Chopin. What I got was THREE martinis all at once. Frankly, that works too.

Shaken Not Slurred: "Shaking? Stirring? Whatever. Anyone who says they can tell the difference is a lying pompous twit. "

I usually drink mine up, with olive. My favorite is made with a gorgonzola stuffed olive, made with Chopin or Grey Goose.

Baghdad Burning

Wow.

I'm simply mucking about, posting a few random thoughts, not taking enough time. But this is real journalism.

Baghdad Burning

Classics?

Apparently, BookMagazine published a 2002 chart of the "best selling classics". OK, I'll buy the best selling bit, but what's their definition of classic?

eliot - Classic Bestsellers

In this annotated list, we also see the date when the book will enter the public domain, which is very interesting and somewhat disturbing. I'm a writer, trained as a playwright, and am very interested in copyright issues. I'm in favor of authors retaining copyright for life and their estate for up to by not exceeding 50 years after their death. Rolling copyright extensions aren't good for anyone.

But back to the whole "classics" thing. A few years back, just when CD-ROMs were coming out, some friends and I talked about putting together a multimedia CD series called "Required Reading". The idea was to put together a genera specific reading list that would allow anyone that was interested in literature to take a guided tour of really terrific books, but often overlooked because they were shuffled off into a ghetto somewhere. We were all fans of science fiction, and all very well educated and widely read and could quickly come up with a list of books in just that genera that were terrific literature, that virtually anyone could enjoy and benefit from reading, but were largely unknown. The CDs would, when possible, contain the public domain works, but also provide "talking heads" to provide expert help and opinions on the works, influences, and what else to read.

Ah, so many good books, so little time.

But "Memoirs of a Geisha" is a classic? "The Clan of the Cave Bear"? "Watership Down"? "Interview with the Vampire"?

Somebody's definition of classic is way, way off.

25 or 6 to 4

Sometimes I puzzle over things, often for years, without ever thinking to ask someone, "what the hell does that mean?" That happened a while back with this song. I heard it on the radio, had heard it for years, hell, even played a pretty cool jazz version. But I'd never thought to ask.

Of course, until recently, there may have been no easy way to have the right person to ask. But sometimes the net does come through.

The answer: it's a time.

Oh. Now the song makes sense.

Now if I could only find that cartoon music.

"Not the Works!"

Today, while helping my oldest daughter mount some hooks to her bedroom wall, huming happily, she asked, "is that music running through your head all the time?"

You know the one. It's from that Warner Brothers cartoon - haven't seen it in years - the one with a cat and dog, probably, and the cat is being given various punishments and he keeps begging, "Not the Works!" as in being put through said works.

And yes, any time I'm doing anything skilled, or I'm planning anything devlish or overly clever, that's exactly the music that's running thorough my brain.

But the damn internet isn't quiet clever enough to find and play it for me based on this feable description.

Dum de dum, de dum, de dum dum

Marketing The Blog

I've been thinking about this. I spend all day marketing, so I'm sensitive and critical when people are trying to sell me a load of goods.

But this does look interesting. Seems harmless and might be fun.

Sign up for this great new Blogstakes contest and maybe we’ll both win a prize!

Behold, the power of the blog!

Or was that "Beware of the Blog!"