TexasFred has a great post up regarding the level of suckage at StartLogic. It would be really, really amusing, if I hadn’t just paid for two years of hosting there - not just for this blog, but also for the model railroad’s site.

StartLogic is based here in Phoenix. Their help desk is located in BFE, India. Not real helpful, and I must say that had I known that prior to signing up with them I would not have signed up with them.

I have said all that to say this: DO NOT SIGN ON WITH STARTLOGIC.

This has been a public service announcement.

Any one have suggestions for hosting, in about eighteen months?

I’ll be doing daily backups of both sites, now. Thanks, StartLogic, I needed one more thing on my plate.

By the way, I won’t be running down the blogroll today. Please click on the tab labeled “All Blogrolls Here” and find some mighty good reading anywhere you land.

Thank you for stopping by, God bless you all, Time, Inc. is a bunch of weasels, listen to The O Word on BlogTalkRadio, Wear Red on Fridays, and support Warriors for Innocence!

I had to borrow the wording for the title of this piece from my good friend Gawfer.

I was curious about a certain candidate’s constant chant of “hope” and thought I would look it up to see if that might give me a clue as to what he was talking about, since the candidate in question (*coughobamacough*) is kinda light on the details about the “hope” he has.

So, let’s go to Webster’s Revised Unabridged Dictionary (I’ve always liked it, although since the revisionists have gotten hold of it there seems to be some changes that don’t jive with me):

Hope
Hope\, n.

1. A desire of some good, accompanied with an expectation of obtaining it, or a belief that it is obtainable; an expectation of something which is thought to be desirable; confidence; pleasing expectancy.

2. One who, or that which, gives hope, furnishes ground of expectation, or promises desired good.

3. That which is hoped for; an object of hope.

So, “hope” is a wish or desire for something, accompanied by expectation of its fulfillment.

Therein lies the problem.

This campaign is not about race, no matter how much the supporters of a particular candidate want to make it so. This campaign is not about age, no matter how much the supporters of the same candidate want to make it so. It’s not even about experience, no matter how much the supporters of either candidate do or do not want to make it so.

It is about perception. The perception of what is expected. With the RepubliCAN’Ts offering, the voters know that they cannot “hope” to see anything different, so the voters will be getting what they see (and, in a way, deserve, since they allowed the MSM to guide their voting in the primaries - but that’s another topic). With the DemocRAT’s offering, their supporters are claiming that their candidate offers “hope” but cannot express what exactly is being “hope”d for.

The demographics of the supporters of the candidate with “hope” would indicate that since they have a shorter attention span, they don’t stick around to find out what the “hope” is for, so they cannot possibly be expected to be able to tell you what the “hope” is for. On the other hand, those of us with more *ahem* experience in life have the second part in the forefront of our mind when we hear “hope” - that is, we have an expectation of its fulfillment, and we don’t see that forthcoming based on the “hope”ful candidate’s track record.

Thursday, I may take a look at the “change” part of the equation.

Or not.

Thank you for stopping by, God bless you all, listen to The O Word on BlogTalkRadio, Wear Red on Fridays, and support Warriors for Innocence!

My regular readers may remember that I am … well, getting older.

Recently (OK, yesterday) I took the very large step of trying to get back into shape - no, seriously! - by starting my running regime again.

For those of you who have some medical training tucked under your belts, rest assured that I did not jump right in and run five miles. No no, I started out nice and easy, with about a half-mile or so. (Apology to Texas Fred - in our chat on YIM yesterday, I mentioned three quarters of a mile, and I measured it last night, turned out to be shorter than that.) I did manage to make the run yesterday morning in just a tick over five minutes (great - ten minute miles from a guy that used to run three in fifteen minutes. i have a long way to go) and again this morning in 5:10. This morning’s slower time I am chalking up to lack of practice, but my left knee is really letting me know I haven’t done this in a while. My thigh muscles are screaming, and of course my shins are wanting to convince me I have splints forming.

However, I wasn’t wheezing and huffing nearly as much as I was yesterday. I think I managed to blow out all the dust and build-up that was in my lungs - haven’t hacked things like that since I quit smoking. (funny side-note - i would run the three miles in fifteen minutes right after finishing a cigarette, and would light one up at the finish line. i was stupid. i have smartened up a bit since then)

I am very happy to report that on neither run did I stop and walk - I chugged right on through.

My plan is to work on this distance until it’s down to about four minutes, and then I’ll start increasing the distance while maintaining the time; once I get to running five minute miles I’ll start working on distance again.

Now, pardon me while I go ice my knee…

Thank you for stopping by, God bless you all, listen to The O Word on BlogTalkRadio, Wear Red on Fridays, and support Warriors for Innocence!

I know, it’s Tuesday. I had a weird Monday, is all.

And, being the lucky person you are, I’ve selected YOU to be the one who gets to hear about it!

It all started about the normal time - no, wait. Monday started Sunday afternoon, when, for no apparent reason, the left front tooth in TMBWitW’s mouth chipped. Not a big chip, but enough that there was a rough little line at the bottom of the tooth. TMBWitW, being the tooth-conscious gal that she is, was very concerned.

Bright and early Monday morning, the dentist was called. Actually, the receptionist was called. She could be worked in at 1015, and it would be the other dentist, not her regular one. Meanwhile, a certain blogger husband of hers woke up with a dull pounding in the back of his head. TMBWitW started working on the computer, getting done what she could without going into the office. For whatever reason, MEG slept until 0900. Blogging husband, not sure what was going on with his head, decided to take two Tylenol and sit quietly so as not to bother his head. He thought to himself, “This is why I quit drinking; why go through all that expense and sloppiness when I can get the hangover headache without even trying?” He took two Tylenol and sat at the breakfast table, reading the morning paper.

Once MEG woke up and had breakfast, she was quickly dressed and the entire crew was off. Not sure if numbing methods were going to be used, TMBWitW requested a back-up driver, just in case. Not sure if he would live until the end of the driveway, the husband took two Tylenol and said “Sure!” with a cheery grin. Relieved that TMBWitW wanted to drive, the husband sat in the back seat and gave the appearance of entertaining MEG while secretly wishing he had taken the entire bottle of Tylenol with him, as a snack for the road.

At the dentist’s office, it was determined that it would not take very long at all; in fact, by the time MEG had walked her father from one end of the compound to the other, climbed and descended two sets of stairs, discovered a pigeon nesting on a landing, played in three of the eight fountains in the courtyard and determined that there was a fountain under repair, TMBWitW was finished and waiting for the return of her support crew.

No numbing methods were used, as it was only an edge fill.

It was decided that lunch was in order, so TMBWitW headed home. (quick side note here - TMBWitW, pre-baby, had an unerring sense of direction. now that she is a mommy, she needs maps and directions to anywhere that is not work or a mall. the trips to and from the dentist office were amusing - or at least, I would assume they were amusing - due to the fact that the person giving directions had a forty five piece drum corps playing in his head during the entire ride and directions were monosyllabic at best.) Once there, a quick lunch was generated, TMBWitW went back in the office, and once MEG had finished her repast she was laid down for a nap. At that time the husband decided it would be a good time for a nap, also, so he took two Tylenol and laid, gently, on his side with a pillow covering one ear and blocking most of the light.

There was a huge ruckus, and the husband was jolted awake almost as soon as he had laid his head down, or about two hours later. TMBWitW needed to go to her chiropractor visit, and would be taking MEG with her, would the husband like to take a migraine pill? No, no - too late for that. He’ll settle for a couple of Tylenol and maybe a bit more of a nap before the HOA board meeting that evening.

Pizza was ordered for dinner, and consumed. The husband operated in a slight fog, and decided to forego the meeting; what use would he be if all he could say was “Turn off the light, it’s too bright”?

Husband decided that in order to sleep off the nagging wisps of migraine still clinging to his skull fragments, he would need to take a small sleeping pill. Sleeping aid acquired, he promptly lay down at 2030 and discovered that his mind was now wide awake and not nearly as pained as it was earlier in the day. Instead of tossing and turning fitfully, he decided to do something constructive that would make his mind shut down so he could sleep.

Ninety three expert games of Minesweeper later, he decided that wasn’t going to work, and maybe laying down would be OK after all. Going back to bed at 0245, he promptly fell asleep. At 0635, he awoke with a start, thinking that TMBWitW had left without a word, taking the baby and the dogs, leaving him to fend for himself with the cats.

I hate migraines that sneak up on you. I hate drugs that affect you in ways they aren’t designed to. I love Tylenol because my body know what to do with it. I need someone to research me and figure out why my threshold for pain and drugs is so weird.

Thank you for stopping by, God bless you all, listen to The O Word on BlogTalkRadio, Wear Red on Fridays, and support Warriors for Innocence!

I normally (well, most of the time) (OK, when I have time…) have a link fest and list my blog reads here along with their latest posts; since tomorrow’s show is going to feature my regular reads, I figured I would just chat a bit today. (Be sure to call in and let me know YOUR regular reads at (347) 838-9573. Or, drop in the chatroom to - uhm, chat - or just sit back and lurk as a listener. that’s fine. don’t participate. i’ll just drone on and on and on by myself. no, really, it’s fine.)

Sorry, forgot to mention the show is at 0700 Mountain Standard Time. No, we don’t do Daylight Savings. Yes, I’m on the same time as Pacific right now. No, I don’t know when it changes back. I don’t care. Remember? we don’t do it, so why keep track of it? Just go and sign up as a member of blogtalkradio, add me as a favorite, and you will get customized notice of when the show is, with YOUR time on it. Now, back to the regular column, which I so rudely interrupted:

Today TMBWitW was going to take the day off. Yesterday MEG started to run a slight fever and recycle everything that went in. Sure wish I had know about the recycling decision BEFORE I gave her the fruit snacks, but there you have it. In light of the recycling effort and TMBWitW’s quick trip to the urgent care center last night while I was at church, she decided to take today as a sick day instead.

(They are both napping right now, which is the only reason I am posting. Shhh. Don’t wake them up.)

Since it’s Thursday, I need to go out and bring the cans back in from the curb. I also need to sweep up the latest conglomeration of pet hair that is gathering in the corners. Oh, and if you all happen to see my black cat, Captain Midnight (he’s got tags and a chip) out and about, please tell him to stay out of the street and go home. No, he doesn’t normally go out. He’s an inside cat, like all the rest. While I was helping Logan get out this morning, Captain slipped out the door and was up and over the wall before I could get Logan situated and chase after Captain. What a stupid cat. I love him dearly, but if he runs off, I will never know what happened to him.

Remember to tune in tomorrow. I’ll talk to you then.

Thank you for stopping by, God bless you all, listen to The O Word on BlogTalkRadio, Wear Red on Fridays, and support Warriors for Innocence!

I have been messing around with computers since about 1982. That was the year the Marine Corps got digitized in it’s maintenance records, and being the MIMMS clerk for the Communications Platoon (along with being the parts guy, and a line company operator, and the Comm Chief’s driver…) I got to make the weekly trek down to S-1 with the disks under one arm. Yes, the disks were large enough to carry under your arm. They were about the size of dinner plates. Huge, really. And they only carried about 256k of stuff on them.

Anyway - I’ve been doing this for a while.

During the late eighties, I was involved in the running of several Bulletin Boards (BBS) while I was living in California. One of the highlights of running a BBS was providing “door” games for your callers. One of the best, in my opinion, was TradeWars, from martech software.

Now comes the blast from the past: The game is still out there. Not as popular as it once was, since everyone is doing the ‘net these days instead of telneting or dialing up their favorite BBS, but it’s still there. I have found a place that has a couple of games going, and I’ve been fooling around on there. you have to telnet “cavebbs.homeip.net 23″ (without the quotes) to get there. It’s called the Cave BBS, run by Red Wolf. Registration is free, the board is text-based, and if you have the same memories I do the only thing missing is the handshaking of two modems at the blazing fast speed of 300 bpm.

If you remember the game, pop on in. If you are interested in learning the game, I’m sure I can help out with tips and advice.

If all this is Greek to you, then move along you young whippersnapper you - there’s nothing to see here.

Thank you for stopping by, God bless you all, listen to The O Word on BlogTalkRadio, Wear Red on Fridays, and support Warriors for Innocence!

For some reason, this is really bothering me, and it has occurred to me that it might be the root cause of the general malaise hanging over the American Consumer.

You might be wondering what is causing such a feeling, and imagining great and powerful economic forces at work here, but you would be slightly mistaken.

It is a force to be reckoned with, and it’s probably even hiding in one of your kitchen or desk drawers as we speak.

That irresistible force? None other than “Transparent Tape” - also known by one of the many brand names, “Scotch” tape.

I know, you can’t possibly see what the big deal is, but here’s where two massive ideals collide head-on. Grumpiness, and bottom-line thinking. Grumpiness, because it has finally bugged me to where I’m going to say something, and bottom-line thinking because manufacturers sometimes forget that real people have to use their product. I’m picking on “Scotch” tape because I happened to be impacted by that product today.

I was very innocently using the dispenser of tape when it bit me. Not the plastic case itself - since the manufacturers have figured out how to make a one-piece dispenser, there are no seams in the case - but the teeth that are used to tear the tape. For some reason, the tape seems to be getting sturdier - not as easily torn as in years past (or, am I getting old and weak?) - and the teeth on the dispenser are coming into play more often for me. I noticed, as I grated the teeth of the dispenser across the meat of my index finger this morning, that the width of the tape is just slightly more than the width of the teeth. Now, in the normal use of the dispenser, when you are in a hurry and you aren’t paying attention, you might not notice this as you pull the tape off at a slight angle and start the tearing off to one side. But I wasn’t that careless this morning - no, no - I managed to try to start tearing right at the edge of the case, at the same width as the tape. (i checked. the part of the tape dispenser where the teeth are is exactly as wide as the tape. the teeth are trimmed out by the plastic shell on each side, so you have a thickness of the plastic shell, the teeth, and then another thickness of the plastic shell, and this is all the same width as the tape itself.) This resulted in the tape remaining in one piece, and the aforementioned teeth chewing on the aforementioned finger.

Where are you going with this, Cary?

Good question, and I will tell you.

In the effort to pare the costs, even in such a small amount as the extra two teeth on the dispenser would cost (ok, and the extra plastic to make up the difference in width someplace else in the case), the manufacturer has increased the odds of the consumer hurting themselves by quite a bit. And, being a grumpy old fart, I figured that I would just go ahead and blog about it, because it really bothered me.

Overall, the company’s bottom line is looking good - they pared the cost of goods, raised the price a bit anyway, and are now making more money than before. Meanwhile, grumpy old farts and other users of the tape dispenser have to increase their costs by the addition of bandages, antiseptics, and chocolate. (chocolate is a pain reliever, you know. especially dark chocolate)

By the manufacturer’s callous disregard of the end-user, the overall attitude of the manufacturing sector towards the consumer is showing. Consumers are noticing, and it’s only a matter of time before a massive backlash occurs.

It probably won’t be pretty.

Thank you for stopping by, God bless you all, Wear Red on Fridays, and support Warriors for Innocence!