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Henry's Web Log, October 15, 2007

October 15, 2007
The Party Encounter

I went to a party yesterday, where a friend was showing slides of her trip to Germany, and holding a mini Oktoberfest. Yes, she is German. (And she'd visited 41 relatives in 16 days.)

It was quite the trip, and she had hundreds of slides to prove it. We could wander from room to room; there was no need to sit and watch hours of slides. I was actually pretty interested, though "slides from our vacation" is a stereotypical party killer.

But, besides the slides, there was going to be lots of good food, including prodigious quantities of grilled meats. Heck, I could put up with some slides.

In fact, there were many people there that I knew from other circles; I knew way more attendees than I thought I would.

Most of my ah... encounters... there were pleasant, but one was downright surreal.

I walked into the house. I greeted my host. "Hey," she said, after the hugs and some introductions, "why don't you ditch your jacket? Just toss it on the bed; the bedroom is down the hall and to your left." I started through the doorway, when...

Wham!

There was another party-goer, coming from the other direction. Turning sharply left, this guest (who hadn't seen me coming) slammed lightly into my body. And there we were.

Face to face. Nose to nose. Practically lips to lips...

...an old girlfriend, whom I hadn't seen in at least 10 years.

I didn't have a clue that she even knew my host.

It hadn't been a pleasant parting. This wasn't a happy reunion. And I wasn't exactly thrilled about being introduced to her husband, the man whom she'd decided she liked better than me, and whom she'd only seen fit to mention several weeks after that decision.

Well, I'm happier now than I was then. I'm glad that he won her heart.

I'm glad that I didn't, because when we ended up nose to nose, my only thought--before I even recognized her, or at least before it sank in--was: "Oh, ICK!"

That, I suppose, is some kind of a revenge.

We toasted no toasts to days gone by, and the men didn't duke it out or engage in any one-upmanship games. He'd won his prize. And me? I was there with someone way nicer, and when I went home, I washed my face and brushed my teeth.


Henry's Web Log, September 29, 2007

September 29, 2007
It had to happen!

It had to happen then. Of course it did.

I recently turned 50. There is a particular test that males are strongly encouraged to take at this time. Yeah, that test: the Roto-Rooter Test.

I put it off for as long as I could, in good conscience, considering my family history.

Friday was The Day.

But wait. One has to make certain, uh, preparations... the day before the test. Those preparations involve drinking two doses of a solution that tastes like liquefied anchovies and acts like Draino.

I took the first dose at noon.

And, shortly after that, is when my water heater blew its seals and turned my basement into Niagara Falls!

This isn't the first time that it did that, either: it's happened before. There were about 30 people in my house and yard that time. This time, it was just me.

Folks, this is not the time to be stuck in a house with no running water.

I headed down to the basement with the determination of a dying man grasping his last chance to escape damnation.

I got it zoned off, turned the main valves back on (yeah, there are 2, don't ask, OK?) and had water in the third floor bathroom again.

Bliss!

Well, comparative bliss. It's always helpful to get a lesson in perspective now and again, I guess.

I didn't get much sleep that night. The doctor said: "Oh, you'll be done by midnight if you start at noon."

The doctor lied.

So, it was finally Friday morning, and my friend Sue showed up to take me to the doctor's. "Do you think we should take the back way?" she asked. "Naahhh," I replied, "the highway looks clear." It did, too. It started looking less and less clear. Finally, we thought to turn on the radio. Accident. All lanes shut down. We ended up taking the back way after all.

Alls well that ends well. I survived the test. I found a wonderful new plumber, and I'm keeping him! He was there when he said he would be. He was polite and courteous. He installed the new water heater, and is warrantying it for 7 years. He took the old one away. He cleaned up after himself. And his shirt tail stays in his pants.

I've got a brand new 40 gallon Low Boy. The Evil Water Heater is gone, never to traumatize me or my household again.

The biopsy came back clean.

And I don't have to take that test again for another 5 to 7 years.


Henry's Web Log, September 13, 2007

September 13, 2007

An Automotive Haiku

Last night, so sweet, my
check engine light finally went off.
Alas, just a dream!


Henry's Web Log, July 30, 2007

July 30, 2007

The doctrine of the radical Muslim terrorists, laid out for all to see.

This was posted by someone, whose name might be Dave Topper, on May 17, 2007. Click here for the original post. The text is copied here, in case that link expires.

I have always said that 9/11 had reason, and I have stated that Israel was that reason.

In the Name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful,

"Permission to fight (against disbelievers) is given to those (believers) who are fought against, because they have been wronged and surely, Allah is Able to give them (believers) victory" [Quran 22:39]

"Those who believe, fight in the Cause of Allah, and those who disbelieve, fight in the cause of Taghut (anything worshipped other than Allah e.g. Satan). So fight you against the friends of Satan; ever feeble is indeed the plot of Satan."[Quran 4:76]

Some American writers have published articles under the title 'On what basis are we fighting?' These articles have generated a number of responses, some of which adhered to the truth and were based on Islamic Law, and others which have not. Here we wanted to outline the truth - as an explanation and warning - hoping for Allah's reward, seeking success and support from Him.

While seeking Allah's help, we form our reply based on two questions directed at the Americans:

(Q1) Why are we fighting and opposing you? Q2)What are we calling you to, and what do we want from you?

As for the first question: Why are we fighting and opposing you? The answer is very simple:

(1) Because you attacked us and continue to attack us.

a) You attacked us in Palestine:

(i) Palestine, which has sunk under military occupation for more than 80 years. The British handed over Palestine, with your help and your support, to the Jews, who have occupied it for more than 50 years; years overflowing with oppression, tyranny, crimes, killing, expulsion, destruction and devastation. The creation and continuation of Israel is one of the greatest crimes, and you are the leaders of its criminals. And of course there is no need to explain and prove the degree of American support for Israel. The creation of Israel is a crime which must be erased. Each and every person whose hands have become polluted in the contribution towards this crime must pay its*price, and pay for it heavily.

(ii) It brings us both laughter and tears to see that you have not yet tired of repeating your fabricated lies that the Jews have a historical right to Palestine, as it was promised to them in the Torah. Anyone who disputes with them on this alleged fact is accused of anti-semitism. This is one of the most fallacious, widely-circulated fabrications in history. The people of Palestine are pure Arabs and original Semites. It is the Muslims who are the inheritors of Moses (peace be upon him) and the inheritors of the real Torah that has not been changed. Muslims believe in all of the Prophets, including Abraham, Moses, Jesus and Muhammad, peace and blessings of Allah be upon them all. If the followers of Moses have been promised a right to Palestine in the Torah, then the Muslims are the most worthy nation of this.

When the Muslims conquered Palestine and drove out the Romans, Palestine and Jerusalem returned to Islaam, the religion of all the Prophets peace be upon them. Therefore, the call to a historical right to Palestine cannot be raised against the Islamic Ummah that believes in all the Prophets of Allah (peace and blessings be upon them) - and we make no distinction between them.

(iii) The blood pouring out of Palestine must be equally revenged. You must know that the Palestinians do not cry alone; their women are not widowed alone; their sons are not orphaned alone.

(b) You attacked us in Somalia; you supported the Russian atrocities against us in Chechnya, the Indian oppression against us in Kashmir, and the Jewish aggression against us in Lebanon.

(c) Under your supervision, consent and orders, the governments of our countries which act as your agents, attack us on a daily basis;

(i) These governments prevent our people from establishing the Islamic Shariah, using violence and lies to do so.

(ii) These governments give us a taste of humiliation, and places us in a large prison of fear and subdual.

(iii) These governments steal our Ummah's wealth and sell them to you at a paltry price.

(iv) These governments have surrendered to the Jews, and handed them most of Palestine, acknowledging the existence of their state over the dismembered limbs of their own people.

(v) The removal of these governments is an obligation upon us, and a necessary step to free the Ummah, to make the Shariah the supreme law and to regain Palestine. And our fight against these governments is not separate from out fight against you.

(d) You steal our wealth and oil at paltry prices because of you international influence and military threats. This theft is indeed the biggest theft ever witnessed by mankind in the history of the world.

(e) Your forces occupy our countries; you spread your military bases throughout them; you corrupt our lands, and you besiege our sanctities, to protect the security of the Jews and to ensure the continuity of your pillage of our treasures.

(f) You have starved the Muslims of Iraq, where children die every day. It is a wonder that more than 1.5 million Iraqi children have died as a result of your sanctions, and you did not show concern. Yet when 3000 of your people died, the entire world rises and has not yet sat down.

(g) You have supported the Jews in their idea that Jerusalem is their eternal capital, and agreed to move your embassy there. With your help and under your protection, the Israelis are planning to destroy the Al-Aqsa mosque. Under the protection of your weapons, Sharon entered the Al-Aqsa mosque, to pollute it as a preparation to capture and destroy it.

(2) These tragedies and calamities are only a few examples of your oppression and aggression against us. It is commanded by our religion and intellect that the oppressed have a right to return the aggression. Do not await anything from us but Jihad, resistance and revenge. Is it in any way rational to expect that after America has attacked us for more than half a century, that we will then leave her to live in security and peace?!!

(3) You may then dispute that all the above does not justify aggression against civilians, for crimes they did not commit and offenses in which they did not partake:

(a) This argument contradicts your continuous repetition that America is the land of freedom, and its leaders in this world. Therefore, the American people are the ones who choose their government by way of their own free will; a choice which stems from their agreement to its policies. Thus the American people have chosen, consented to, and affirmed their support for the Israeli oppression of the Palestinians, the occupation and usurpation of their land, and its continuous killing, torture, punishment and expulsion of the Palestinians. The American people have the ability and choice to refuse the policies of their Government and even to change it if they want.

(b) The American people are the ones who pay the taxes which fund the planes that bomb us in Afghanistan, the tanks that strike and destroy our homes in Palestine, the armies which occupy our lands in the Arabian Gulf, and the fleets which ensure the blockade of Iraq. These tax dollars are given to Israel for it to continue to attack us and penetrate our lands. So the American people are the ones who fund the attacks against us, and they are the ones who oversee the expenditure of these monies in the way they wish, through their elected candidates.

(c) Also the American army is part of the American people. It is this very same people who are shamelessly helping the Jews fight against us.

(d) The American people are the ones who employ both their men and their women in the American Forces which attack us.

(e) This is why the American people cannot be not innocent of all the crimes committed by the Americans and Jews against us.

(f) Allah, the Almighty, legislated the permission and the option to take revenge. Thus, if we are attacked, then we have the right to attack back. Whoever has destroyed our villages and towns, then we have the right to destroy their villages and towns. Whoever has stolen our wealth, then we have the right to destroy their economy. And whoever has killed our civilians, then we have the right to kill theirs.

The American Government and press still refuses to answer the question:

Why did they attack us in New York and Washington?

If Sharon is a man of peace in the eyes of Bush, then we are also men of peace!!! America does not understand the language of manners and principles, so we are addressing it using the language it understands.

(Q2) As for the second question that we want to answer: What are we calling you to, and what do we want from you?

(1) The first thing that we are calling you to is Islam.

(a) The religion of the Unification of God; of freedom from associating partners with Him, and rejection of this; of complete love of Him, the Exalted; of complete submission to His Laws; and of the discarding of all the opinions, orders, theories and religions which contradict with the religion He sent down to His Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him). Islam is the religion of all the prophets, and makes no distinction between them - peace be upon them all.

It is to this religion that we call you; the seal of all the previous religions. It is the religion of Unification of God, sincerity, the best of manners, righteousness, mercy, honour, purity, and piety. It is the religion of showing kindness to others, establishing justice between them, granting them their rights, and defending the oppressed and the persecuted. It is the religion of enjoining the good and forbidding the evil with the hand, tongue and heart. It is the religion of Jihad in the way of Allah so that Allah's Word and religion reign Supreme. And it is the religion of unity and agreement on the obedience to Allah, and total equality between all people, without regarding their colour, sex, or language.

(b) It is the religion whose book - the Quran - will remained preserved and unchanged, after the other Divine books and messages have been changed. The Quran is the miracle until the Day of Judgment. Allah has challenged anyone to bring a book like the Quran or even ten verses like it.

(2) The second thing we call you to, is to stop your oppression, lies, immorality and debauchery that has spread among you.

(a) We call you to be a people of manners, principles, honour, and purity; to reject the immoral acts of fornication, homosexuality, intoxicants, gambling's, and trading with interest.

We call you to all of this that you may be freed from that which you have become caught up in; that you may be freed from the deceptive lies that you are a great nation, that your leaders spread amongst you to conceal from you the despicable state to which you have reached.

(b) It is saddening to tell you that you are the worst civilization witnessed by the history of mankind:

(i) You are the nation who, rather than ruling by the Shariah of Allah in its Constitution and Laws, choose to invent your own laws as you will and desire. You separate religion from your policies, contradicting the pure nature which affirms Absolute Authority to the Lord and your Creator. You flee from the embarrassing question posed to you: How is it possible for Allah the Almighty to create His creation, grant them power over all the creatures and land, grant them all the amenities of life, and then deny them that which they are most in need of: knowledge of the laws which govern their lives?

(ii) You are the nation that permits Usury, which has been forbidden by all the religions. Yet you build your economy and investments on Usury. As a result of this, in all its different forms and guises, the Jews have taken control of your economy, through which they have then taken control of your media, and now control all aspects of your life making you their servants and achieving their aims at your expense; precisely what Benjamin Franklin warned you against.

[ Not even remotely true. See this article ]

(iii) You are a nation that permits the production, trading and usage of intoxicants. You also permit drugs, and only forbid the trade of them, even though your nation is the largest consumer of them.

(iv) You are a nation that permits acts of immorality, and you consider them to be pillars of personal freedom. You have continued to sink down this abyss from level to level until incest has spread amongst you, in the face of which neither your sense of honour nor your laws object.

Who can forget your President Clinton's immoral acts committed in the official Oval office? After that you did not even bring him to account, other than that he 'made a mistake', after which everything passed with no punishment. Is there a worse kind of event for which your name will go down in history and remembered by nations?

(v) You are a nation that permits gambling in its all forms. The companies practice this as well, resulting in the investments becoming active and the criminals becoming rich.

(vi) You are a nation that exploits women like consumer products or advertising tools calling upon customers to purchase them. You use women to serve passengers, visitors, and strangers to increase your profit margins. You then rant that you support the liberation of women.

(vii) You are a nation that practices the trade of sex in all its forms, directly and indirectly. Giant corporations and establishments are established on this, under the name of art, entertainment, tourism and freedom, and other deceptive names you attribute to it.

(viii) And because of all this, you have been described in history as a nation that spreads diseases that were unknown to man in the past. Go ahead and boast to the nations of man, that you brought them AIDS as a Satanic American Invention.

(xi) You have destroyed nature with your industrial waste and gases more than any other nation in history. Despite this, you refuse to sign the Kyoto agreement so that you can secure the profit of your greedy companies and*industries.

(x) Your law is the law of the rich and wealthy people, who hold sway in their political parties, and fund their election campaigns with their gifts. Behind them stand the Jews, who control your policies, media and economy.

(xi) That which you are singled out for in the history of mankind, is that you have used your force to destroy mankind more than any other nation in history; not to defend principles and values, but to hasten to secure your interests and profits. You who dropped a nuclear bomb on Japan, even though Japan was ready to negotiate an end to the war. How many acts of oppression, tyranny and injustice have you carried out, O callers to freedom?

(xii) Let us not forget one of your major characteristics: your duality in both manners and values; your hypocrisy in manners and principles. All*manners, principles and values have two scales: one for you and one for the others.

(a)The freedom and democracy that you call to is for yourselves and for white race only; as for the rest of the world, you impose upon them your monstrous, destructive policies and Governments, which you call the 'American friends'. Yet you prevent them from establishing democracies. When the Islamic party in Algeria wanted to practice democracy and they won the election, you unleashed your agents in the Algerian army onto them, and to attack them with tanks and guns, to imprison them and torture them - a new lesson from the 'American book of democracy'!!!

(b)Your policy on prohibiting and forcibly removing weapons of mass destruction to ensure world peace: it only applies to those countries which you do not permit to possess such weapons. As for the countries you consent to, such as Israel, then they are allowed to keep and use such weapons to defend their security. Anyone else who you suspect might be manufacturing or keeping these kinds of weapons, you call them criminals and you take military action against them.

(c)You are the last ones to respect the resolutions and policies of International Law, yet you claim to want to selectively punish anyone else who does the same. Israel has for more than 50 years been pushing UN resolutions and rules against the wall with the full support of America.

(d)As for the war criminals which you censure and form criminal courts for - you shamelessly ask that your own are granted immunity!! However, history will not forget the war crimes that you committed against the Muslims and the rest of the world; those you have killed in Japan, Afghanistan, Somalia, Lebanon and Iraq will remain a shame that you will never be able to escape. It will suffice to remind you of your latest war crimes in Afghanistan, in which densely populated innocent civilian villages were destroyed, bombs were dropped on mosques causing the roof of the mosque to come crashing down on the heads of the Muslims praying inside. You are the ones who broke the agreement with the Mujahideen when they left Qunduz, bombing them in Jangi fort, and killing more than 1,000 of your prisoners through suffocation and thirst. Allah alone knows how many people have died by torture at the hands of you and your agents. Your planes remain in the Afghan skies, looking for anyone remotely suspicious.

(e)You have claimed to be the vanguards of Human Rights, and your Ministry of Foreign affairs issues annual reports containing statistics of those countries that violate any Human Rights. However, all these things vanished when the Mujahideen hit you, and you then implemented the methods of the same documented governments that you used to curse. In America, you captured thousands the Muslims and Arabs, took them into custody with neither reason, court trial, nor even disclosing their names. You issued newer, harsher laws.

What happens in Guatanamo is a historical embarrassment to America and its values, and it screams into your faces - you hypocrites, "What is the value of your signature on any agreement or treaty?"

(3) What we call you to thirdly is to take an honest stance with yourselves - and I doubt you will do so - to discover that you are a nation without principles or manners, and that the values and principles to you are something which you merely demand from others, not that which you yourself must adhere to.

(4) We also advise you to stop supporting Israel, and to end your support of the Indians in Kashmir, the Russians against the Chechens and to also cease supporting the Manila Government against the Muslims in Southern Philippines.

(5) We also advise you to pack your luggage and get out of our lands. We desire for your goodness, guidance, and righteousness, so do not force us to send you back as cargo in coffins.

(6) Sixthly, we call upon you to end your support of the corrupt leaders in our countries. Do not interfere in our politics and method of education. Leave us alone, or else expect us in New York and Washington.

(7) We also call you to deal with us and interact with us on the basis of mutual interests and benefits, rather than the policies of sub dual, theft and occupation, and not to continue your policy of supporting the Jews because this will result in more disasters for you.

If you fail to respond to all these conditions, then prepare for fight with the Islamic Nation. The Nation of Monotheism, that puts complete trust on Allah and fears none other than Him. The Nation which is addressed by its Quran with the words: "Do you fear them? Allah has more right that you should fear Him if you are believers. Fight against them so that Allah will punish them by your hands and disgrace them and give you victory over them and heal the breasts of believing people. And remove the anger of their (believers') hearts. Allah accepts the repentance of whom He wills. Allah is All-Knowing, All-Wise." [Quran9:13-1]

The Nation of honour and respect:

"But honour, power and glory belong to Allah, and to His Messenger (Muhammad- peace be upon him) and to the believers." [Quran 63:8]

"So do not become weak (against your enemy), nor be sad, and you will be*superior ( in victory )if you are indeed (true) believers" [Quran 3:139]

The Nation of Martyrdom; the Nation that desires death more than you desire life:

"Think not of those who are killed in the way of Allah as dead. Nay, they are alive with their Lord, and they are being provided for. They rejoice in what Allah has bestowed upon them from His bounty and rejoice for the sake of those who have not yet joined them, but are left behind (not yet martyred) that on them no fear shall come, nor shall they grieve. They rejoice in a grace and a bounty from Allah, and that Allah will not waste the reward of the believers." [Quran 3:169-171]

The Nation of victory and success that Allah has promised:

"It is He Who has sent His Messenger (Muhammad peace be upon him) with guidance and the religion of truth (Islam), to make it victorious over all other religions even though the Polytheists hate it." [Quran 61:9]

"Allah has decreed that 'Verily it is I and My Messengers who shall be victorious.' Verily Allah is All-Powerful, All-Mighty." [Quran 58:21]

The Islamic Nation that was able to dismiss and destroy the previous evil Empires like yourself; the Nation that rejects your attacks, wishes to remove your evils, and is prepared to fight you. You are well aware that the Islamic Nation, from the very core of its soul, despises your haughtiness and arrogance.

If the Americans refuse to listen to our advice and the goodness, guidance and righteousness that we call them to, then be aware that you will lose this Crusade Bush began, just like the other previous Crusades in which you were humiliated by the hands of the Mujahideen, fleeing to your home in great silence and disgrace. If the Americans do not respond, then their fate will be that of the Soviets who fled from Afghanistan to deal with their military defeat, political breakup, ideological downfall, and economic bankruptcy.

This is our message to the Americans, as an answer to theirs. Do they now know why we fight them and over which form of ignorance, by the permission of Allah, we shall be victorious?

Of course, Osama bin Laden, who orchestrated the Slaughter of September, was more focused upon getting United States forces and other personnel out of Saudi Arabia than he was upon Israel. But what of Mr. Topper?

Interestingly enough, Mr. Topper claims, as one of his strengths, "The ability to accept all people". No kidding; he really does. Based upon his positions above, I can only conclude that the does not consider non-Muslims "people". He also says that the one thing he'd like to see is: "For those people that can't to at least teach their kids acceptance".

I don't know what kind of "acceptance" Mr. Topper has in mind, but I sure hope he isn't teaching his brand of "acceptance" to his own kids.

I imagine that Mr. Topper probably does represent the viewpoint of the radical Muslim community. I think I'll take a pass on their version of the perfect Islamic state, thanks. If I recall correctly, that is what Afghanistan was supposed to have been. And if I've been informed correctly, it looked an awful lot like the Stone Age when we got there.

Also, although Western music was banned, the jeeps of some of the Imams were discovered with collections of Western pop music in their cabs and in the players. Mr. Topper might want to notice that his "laws of Allah" don't seem to be imposed equally upon everybody, and consider how all that "Islamic equality" might be distributed in his case.

I'm not saying that his religious leaders are worse than any other brand, but he might want to think about who he's following when they tell him to espouse mass murder and embrace suicide, if their own level of commitment is so pitifully low.

Finally, if all that murdering he thinks we are doing is so horrific to him, how is it that he supports any further acts of murder, no matter who is committing them? He may as well booze it up, with a hand of cards in one fist and his arm around a floozy. That'll really show us not to drink, gamble, and fornicate!

Of course, he'd answer that his Holy Book tells him that the murder is OK, because it is done in the name of Allah, while my other little examples are merely vices. The thing is, if someone was pointing a gun at my head, I really wouldn't care what Book they'd been reading.

Mr. Topper declaims grandly, with courageous words, but if a gun was pointed directly at his head, I don't think he'd care, either.


Henry's Web Log, June 14, 2007

June 14, 2007 Futility and The Titanic

Yesterday I visited the Mystic Marinelife Aquarium and was startled to discover the following facts while viewing their exhibit about The History of the Titanic.

In 1889, 23 years before the Titanic's ill-fated passage in April of 1912, the book "Futility" was written by the English author Morgan Robertson. It was a fictional account of the largest ship in the world, and her maiden voyage across the Atlantic in the month of April. The ship, which was going too fast, collided with an iceberg and sank, killing most of the people aboard.

Here are some similarities between Robertson's fictional work and the real sinking of the Titanic:
R.M.S. Titanic Fictional Ship
Flag British British
Nickname Virtually Unsinkable Unsinkable
Ship's owners British British
Ship's owners' Headquarters Liverpool Liverpool
Ship's owners' U.S.office location New York New York
Nationality of principal stock owners American American
Itinerary England to New York New York to England
Overall Length 882 feet 800 feet
Displacement 66,000 tons 70,000 tons
Gross Tonnage 46,328 tons 45,000 tons
Propellers 3 3
Maximum speed 23 - 24 knots 24 knots
Collision speed 22.5 knots 24 knots
Horsepower 46,000 40,000
Watertight Compartments 16 19
Watertight Doors 12 92
Total capacity (fully loaded) 3,547 people 3,000 people
Passengers (on board) 2,435 2,000
Crew (on board) 892 1,000
Deaths 1,523 2,987
Departure date April April
Lifeboats 20 24
First warning of danger Iceberg Right Ahead Ice, ice ahead, iceberg right under the bow
Side of ship hit by iceberg Starboard Starboard
Time of collision 11:40 P.M. Near midnight
Location of collision The North Atlantic, a few hundered miles off the U.S. coast The North Atlantic, a few hundered miles off the U.S. coast

The name of this fictitious ship was...

The Titan.


Henry's Web Log: March 2, 2007

May 2, 2007

Today In History

On this date in 1833, Czar Nicholas banned the public sale of serfs.

On this date in 1999 I worked my first full day as an employee of AT&T, having been sold, along with my colleagues and the rest of my division, by IBM to AT&T as part of the breakup of the old Advantis Corporation.

Five years and 10 days later I was laid off by AT&T, along with 4,700 other people, and the job market was really tight for a full year.

Methinks that progress is a good thing, but serfs had more job security.

I'm just sayin'...


Henry's Web Log: January 3, 2007

January 3, 2007

Happy New Year

The French started out by protesting it, waving banners reading: "No to 2007" and "Now is better!", though presumably in French. I'm glad that their sense of humor is still intact. We'll all need a sense of humor in 2007 or, if you prefer, 2005 v.2.0.

I began the year by being on call and misunderstood. My friend Sue who knew that I was on call telephoned me this past Saturday and said that she and Eric had "a little [Christmas] something" for me. I thanked her, but reminded her that I couldn't come over during that weekend because I was "under house arrest".

I was, of course, joking. That's what being on call sometimes feels like, though I like having the feeling of responsibility, trust, and being needed. But it can be a CLM to be more than 15 minutes away from a computer. After a week of that, it gets old.

What was depressing is the fact that Sue took it literally, believed that I might do something justifying house arrest, and asked: "So what did you do?" My life is not that exciting, folks, nor do I want it to be. I would think that a more appropriate response might be: "Feeling a little confined, are we? We'll come over and liven things up!" or even a "What? Not you!" if she didn't get the joke. Once again I'm reminded that other people do not necessarily see me as I see myself, nor as I'd like them to see me.

Yesterday, the second day of the year, started on a more positive note when I was able to start my car without needing to use a fire extinguisher.

I drove to work yesterday and, when I pulled into the parking garage, I thought: "Wow. It really smells like smoke in here!" until I got out of the car. No smoke smell. Back in the car. Smells strongly like smoke. Back out. Sniff. Only a trace.

This is probably not a good thing. 'Cause I've got to start the car again sometime. I've got the kind of power steering that makes it almost impossible to turn the wheel without the engine running, and completely impossible with the steering locked. To unlock it you have to activate the electrical system. It would take two turns to get my car out of the garage and I have all-wheel drive, so a standard tow truck wouldn't do; I'd need a flatbed. Which would mean inconveniencing a lot of people.

Or, I could just fire the thing up in a crowded garage packed with cars, underneath a medical building, and see what happened. This, of course, was the option that I chose.

I got my co-workers Ron and Chandra to stand by with two fire extinguishers that I'd temporarily liberated, and rolled out on the bottom shelf of a cart, where they would be unlikely to attract attention that might result in embarrassing questions. I'd expected them to be amused, and they were, but I preferred their wisecracks to not having extinguishers if I needed them.

We got downstairs; I popped the hood, they positioned themselves, and I fired that mother up. Not a bit of smoke. We believe that it was the old plastic bag stuck to the catalytic converter syndrome. I don't know how either of them managed to refrain from screaming: "Omigod, Henry! Shut it off!" just to liven tings up a bit, but they did refrain, and I appreciate their help and their self-restraint.

Continuing with the good news, I have reconnected with my oldest childhood friend. Sorry, Fern. You haven't been bumped, just nudged a bit; you're still my oldest continuous childhood friend. That's because, on the first day of first grade, before we even reached the front door of the elementary school, I did something really cruel to Leslie, the girl next door whom I've known since we were 3 or 4 years old. I have regretted my cowardice and my disregard for her ever since.

Well, little kids are cruel, and maybe 4 decades is a little long to carry a regret, but I have been ashamed of myself. So I was shocked to get a "Do you remember me?" e-mail from the increasingly annoying classmates.com and it was from Leslie who, for good reason, I'd never expected to hear from again.

I wrote back and said up front that I had an abject apology for her, and I was glad for this opportunity, if she would accept it. She quickly responded with curiosity, saying that she didn't remember any such incident! In fact, she said, she remembers being cruel to me, and denying that we had ever been friends, in front of a group of fellow classmates.

Well, I didn't remember that incident any more than she'd remembered what was so vivid in my mind. And, of course, it's not a time in life when boy/girl friendships come easily. I've been a geek all my life; it would have been social suicide for her to admit that we'd been friends.

Now that we understood each other, and had accepted each others' apologies, we were able to move on. What an unexpected gift, particularly after all these years!

Sometimes life can unexpectedly throw jewels in one's path, and this is one of them!

Another one is the aforementioned Fern, whom I haven't seen in years, and who dropped by Connecticut last week for a nice little visit. Wow! It must be the season to reconnect with old friends! So, Virgil, where are you?

It's a great way to start a new year. If you haven't made any resolutions yet, this resolution generator should be able to give you a hand.

Happy New Year! I wish you health, peace, prosperity, and jewels in your path.

P.S.
A total of two people believed me when I said that I was "under house arrest" and one person replied: "Oh, I knew that you weren't, really. If you'd done anything to warrent house arrest you'd have told us all about it a dozen times by now!"

It's nice to have friends that know you. Sometimes.


Henry's Web Log, November 27, 2006

November 27, 2006

VCR Madness

A better title might be VCR Weirdness, but this situation is so odd, so statistically improbable, that I wondered if I was not going mad.

The whole thing started a couple of months go. Someone loaned me a tape, I put it in the VCR, and it got stuck. OK, that happens. This one was particularly difficult to extricate, but my son volunteered to do it. Nice guy, but he lives in Rhode Island and I live in Connecticut. We were having trouble getting together.

A few weeks went by.

Renate and I took off for a weekend in PA. When we got back we found the tape successfully extracted, and laying in front of the VCR. The only people who have keys to the house are him, and my next door neighbor. He was in Rhode Island that weekend, and it is doubtful that he knew that we were gone, so it's unlikely to be a practical joke.

My neighbor is not likely to come into the house while no one is home and do something like this. Both my son and neighbor insist that they did not remove the tape, I believe them, and circumstances seem to support their assertions.

What my neighbor did do was give me a VCR that she'd had around the house; it was known good, but she was planning to get rid of it anyway, in favor of a newer integrated system she now had.

A few weeks went by.

The VCR sat on the kitchen table and, when it did not install itself, I moved it into the living room. In the meantime, we bought a nice new stereo cabinet. This past Saturday was the day I was going to get rid of that big old desk in the living room and replace it with a cabinet designed for components like mine.

For those who do not know me, I am capable of being methodical. Very methodical. This was one of those times.

Even though I am the one who set up the system in the first place, I labeled both ends of every cable. I got around to tinning the end of every speaker wire and soldering lugs on them. But finally, when the job was done, and done right, it was time to reassemble. The items to be unified into one grand working whole were:

  • One stereo cabinet
  • One 15-amp power strip (this will become important soon)
  • One 27" Zenith T.V.
  • One DVD player
  • One Fischer stereo
  • One junction box
  • Six speakers
  • And a known good VCR, the old one.
Easy, right?

Remove components, move old desk out of the way. Check.
Dust. Check.
Wire up the junction box. Check.
Move new cabinet into place. Check.
Install components. Check.
Carefully connect all wires. Check.
Plug power strip into wall outlet. Check.
Plug T.V. into power strip. Check.
Plug DVD player into power strip. Check.
Plug VCR into power strip. Crack!
Out go the lights. There is a bright flash at the power strip, a loud pop, and the circuit breaker blows.

Wow. Do we have a bad VCR or a bad power strip?

Well, luckily, I have another known good VCR, and it's handy! How cool is that? Maybe there was more wrong with my old unit than I thought? This sure is odd, though. Why didn't it blow a breaker when it was still plugged in? Perhaps a shorted wire that was fine as long as it did not move at all? Doubtful.

Well, there'll be time to think about that later. Let's get set up with some new components, shall we?

I went down to the basement, reset the breaker, removed the old power strip, and replaced it with a new one. The socket where I'd tried to plug in the VCR was charred, and the neutral prong of the VCR plug had a corner melted off of it. Not bad. I've seen a lot worse back in the days when I was doing repair for a living. We used to draw straws after a lightning storm. The tech who drew the short straw had to work on the microcomputer or peripheral that had taken a hit. Those were some flashes and some melted metal to see. This should be a piece of cake.

I now have a new power strip, and a known good replacement VCR. Everything else seemed fine. What could possibly go wrong?
Plug new power strip into wall outlet. Check.
Plug T.V. into power strip. Check.
Plug DVD player into power strip. Check.
Plug VCR into power strip. Crack!
Out go the lights. There is a bright flash at the power strip, a loud pop, and the circuit breaker blows.

Again.

The sockets are charred in pretty much the same way (actually, the second strip is noticeably more charred than he first) and the plugs are melted almost exactly the same amount in the same place.

What are the chances that I have two bad VCRs or two bad power strips? Or a coincidental combination of the two?

The wall socket is good.
These items all together are nowhere close to 15 amps.
Everything was powered off when I plugged it in.
The T.V. is not "instant on"; it was not pulling power while off.

Now do you see why I called this entry VCR Madness?

Do you have an answer? If so, please save my sanity and send me some mail.


Henry's Web Log, November 26, 2006

November 26, 2006

Entry Level Jobs

Here are some of the things I have done to earn money:

  1. Driven a taxi.
  2. Been a security guard. Three times.
  3. Shoveled cow manure into piles for fertilizer.
  4. Washed dishes for a living in 3 different countries.
  5. Picked fruit.
  6. Tended bar.
  7. Telemarketer. (That didn't last long.)
  8. Flipped a million burgers, and cleaned the nasty, nasty kitchen and broilers afterward.
  9. Cared for chickens. Makes shoveling cow manure seem clean.
  10. Read books on tape for the blind.
  11. Worked in a library, shelving books.
  12. Worked at a bookbinder's.
  13. Worked in a school store.
  14. Worked on an assembly line at a gun factory, making rifles and shotguns.
  15. Driven trucks up to 10-wheelers, plus backhoes, forklifts and cranes.
  16. Dug ditches.
  17. Done roofing.
  18. Been a night watchman. Different than security guard.
  19. I've done landscaping, twice. Really just manual labor, shovel work with another name. Not creative, and I didn't make any plants grow.
  20. Been an assistant naturalist at a Nature Center.
  21. Typed papers for money for other students.
  22. Helped build stone walls.
  23. Helped do sheetrocking.
  24. Been an assistant instructor at a rifle range.
  25. Loaded trucks.
That's all before I started doing this.

What interesting jobs have you held?


Henry's Web Log, October 29, 2006

October 29, 2006

The Timex Math Lesson

HISTORY:
Timex. The company is frustrating but I love their watches.

Particularly my Timex DataLink. I've owned one since (literally) several days after they were first introduced. This will be my 4th one since 1994. I've been perfectly happy with my current one, but it finally died. I went on a long and frustrating search for a new one, and finally ended up calling Timex today because their web site is down. Let me say that Timex Customer Service ranks right down there with the "service" you get from telephone companies. We pick up the story in its current phase, including only today's incidents. They are illustrative of the larger history and experience.


I finally got a new watch. I went to timex.com and their site is still down. They did post the customer service number. I copied it down, and called it. Whoops! It got the Indianapolis Section 8 Housing Emergency Services Department. Really! Try dialing 800-418-4639 instead of 448 and hear for yourself!

Well, after that little goof, I found out that the watch I wanted is not a new model; it is an old model that has been discontinued. No more in the warehouse. I tried a few Timex stores, including Shelton (close) and Waterbury (home of the Timex Museum, and as good a guess as any). No dice.

OK, I head to the local mall. There were no other customers, and there was a young lady behind the counter.

Her: Can I help you?
Me: Ignoring the temptation to say: "MAY I help you?" I responded instead: "Yes, I need a new watch, please."
Her: What kind?
Me: (Removing my watch ad handing it to her) This one.
Her: It says "low battery". You need a new battery.
Me: We replaced the battery on Saturday. I need a new watch.
Her: I wasn't here on Saturday.
Me: The manager changed it. I wasn't being literal.
Her: (Giving me a strange look and picking up the phone) Mumble, mumble, mumble, mumble, mumble.
Her: (To me) Do you want to get it replaced?
Me: No, the battery was replaced 3 days ago.
Her: You said you wanted to send the watch away for replacement.
Me: No, I said I wanted to get a new watch.
Her: (To me) [Insert dirty look here]
Her: (To phone) Mumble, mumble, mumble, mumble, mumble. Click.
Her: (To me) Why don't you go to the case and pick out a new watch?
Me: I want this one.
Her: We don't have those.
Me: (Walking to case, and pointing to the watch) Sure you do. Here's one.
Her: That one has a different band.
Me: Can you please take the band off my watch and put it on this one?
Her: (Moving to the next case) Here's one with that band.
Me: That's not the same watch.
Her: It's the same thing; it just doesn't go with a computer.
Me: I want a watch that connects to a computer. That's what I have. Can't you please swap the band from this watch (extending it) with that one (pointing to an identical watch in the case)?
Her: [Tries to think of a reason why not. Appears to fail. Slowly opens case and gets watch.]
Me: It's 30% off and comes with a free lifetime battery replacement coupon, right?
Her: The watch is 30% off. The free battery coupon is $7.00.
Me: Fine. I'll take it.

At this point she starts trying to disassemble the band. I notice that the cash register's display reads $102.77. I hope it is from the previous sale. She gets the new watch's band off. With a struggle. She gets my old watch's band off. With a struggle. She attempts to put the old band on the new watch.

Her: This band doesn't fit.
Me: It's the exact same watch.

She works at it for a long time, finally succeeding in replacing the band. I cheer inwardly for her, hoping that this will be an accomplishment that she can remember.

Her: Do you want to try it on?
Me: (Putting on watch) It fits perfectly. Thank you.
Her: That's $102.77.
Me: No, it's $74.20.
Her: (Points silently at register display.)
Me: You didn't enter the 30% discount, did you?
Her: Well, I scanned it in, and that's what the register says.
Me: Right. The watch is $90.00, right?
Her: (Nods yes.)
Me: Well, whatever the register says, that can't be the right price if it's on sale, can it?
Her: (Picking up phone) Mumble, mumble, mumble, mumble, mumble. (She appears to be getting an affirmative answer. She hangs up.) They're on sale, but my manager isn't here and I can't do that.
Me: Can you void the sale?
Her: [Insert blank look here]
Me: Can you cancel the sale?

Apparently she can, because she does so, with what appears to be one keystroke. Once again the register display is welcoming me to The Timex Store.

"OK," I say, "This is really easy. Ten percent of $90.00 is $9.00, right?" She nods, but I think it looks tentative. "OK, three nines are 27, and 27 from 90 is 63, right?" She is staring at me, wordlessly. "I got the battery coupon and 63 + 7 is 70, a nice round number, OK?" Dead silence. Fixed stare. "Tax in CT is 6%. Seven sixes are 42. We move the decimal place over, because the tax is 6%, not 60%. Ha, ha, 60% tax would be really bad, right?" My attempt at lightening things up appears to be failing. She seems frozen. "So it's easy," I conclude, "70 + 4.20 is 74.20! See?"

At this point (I am not kidding) she backs away from the counter as if I am a dangerous lunatic.

"Really," I reassure her, "it really is." I point to the big calculator on the counter. "Try it."

She just stares at me. I keep my jolly face on and point reassuringly toward the calculator. "C'mon," I say, "I'll walk you through it."

She stays frozen for a little while longer, then slowly reaches for the calculator with a look that clearly says: "If you humor the madman, maybe he won't kill you. Maybe you'll get out of this alive." She doesn't look convinced of that, either. I wonder if she has pushed a silent alarm, but she's touched the calculator, and I walk her through it. To her credit, she types very quickly.

She comes up with $74.16. I'll take it. I smile at her. "See?"

She rings up my sale, puts my old watch in a bag (I never took off the new one when I tried out the band) and hands it to me.

Me: What about the disk and the cable?
Her: You just get the watch.
Me: I just bought a brand new watch!

She goes to the display case. No cable, no CD, there. She goes through every drawer twice. She can't seem to find the watch's box. I silently point to the box that the watch had been leaning against in the display case. She looks surprised, then grabs the box for my watch. She keeps a poker face, and registers no surprise when the cable, CD, and instruction booklet are all there. Just like a new watch!

I follow her to the counter, and remind her that I want the free battery coupon. She grabs one from a stack and starts to fill it out. "What's your name?" she asks me. I'm prepared for this. I keep a large-print card in a sleeve in my wallet with nothing but my name, address, and phone number on it. It makes things simpler all around. You wouldn't believe how hard it is for people to get my name right.

She fills out the coupon and hands it to me. To her credit, I think I even see a little flourish in how she hands it over.

"There you go," she says as she hands the coupon over, "you're all set!"

"My wallet."

[Blank stare.]

I point to my wallet. "Can I have my wallet back, please?"

"Oh."

She hands over my wallet.

I leave with my watch.

On my way back through the food court I grab some cheap Chinese and head back to the office. Upon returning, I finish lunch and read my fortune.

    "Sudden love takes the longest time to be cured."
Yeah, today was a day for revelations, for sure!


Henry's Web Log: July 10, 2006

July 10, 2006

My T.V. Show

I spent a frustrating 45 minutes today working my way through the customer service maze of a large technology firm.

I sincerely believe that they are using the phrase customer service in the same way that the horse breeding industry uses the word service.

But (ever eager to be productive) while I was on the phone slowly being serviced, I worked (handled) some problem tickets of my own, revised a spreadsheet, answered a bunch of e-mail... and came up with an idea for a new T.V. show, all at the same time. How many of you devised a T.V. show today?

My working title for the show is Customer Support Clowns. It will work something like this:

  • The show runs weekly, for a half an hour. After the commercials, this translates to something like eighteen and a half minutes, the same length of time as the famous gap in the Nixon Watergate tape 342.
  • People would call customer service centers and record their conversations. Dramatizations of the best calls, with visuals added, would be reenacted, with the footage being shot in your very own home or office. The most frustrating (i.e., amusing) exchanges would get broadcast on television.
  • In the penultimate segment the audience would get to guess whether that company's support team members would turn out to be heroes or clowns.
  • After the last commercial, the segment would culminate, revealing if the caller's issue was resolved and, if so, how.
  • Perhaps you could even call your guesses in to a call center, or enter them from a web site. There would be one winner chosen at random every week from the pool of correct guesses.
  • From the audience's standpoint, serious bonus points would be accrued if the network's own call center was featured, or if their web site went down.
  • Of course, sometimes the caller is a clown. Having done some tech support, I can attest that this is a very frequent occurrence. We could throw a few of these segments in every season for comic relief.
  • Sometimes the support staff are heroes, and the highlighted companies' stock might even go up after they were featured on my T.V. show.
  • And the rest of the time? Perhaps the targeted companies' executives will be so red-faced that they will change their ways.
Of course, I think it's more likely that they'll just fire some low-level dweeb and insist that the incident was an anomaly.

What do you think?

Do I have a hit or would it flop?

Click here to send me your feedback. The best answers might get published here. The decisions to publish or not, and/or to edit or not for things like brevity and effect are mine alone, and are totally subjective, just like the rest of my opinions. :-) By clicking on the mail link above you agree to that. Hey, wait a second...! :-)


Henry's Web Log: July 4, 2006

July 4, 2006
What Could Possibly Go Wrong?

It was that time again, July 4th, time to celebrate our hard-won and -defended independence.

Every year, I hold a July 4th party. This year was no exception, but it certainly was different! Note for context: I live in a quiet, desirable neighborhood, where crime is still fairly unusual. If you're not familiar with the particulars of my annual party, I submit that some of the following might make more sense if you click on this year's party link above, and read the details.

  • This year, there were two large busts of illegal fireworks in my neighborhood. This made me concerned that the local illegal fireworks show would not happen as planned.

  • I worked from home on Friday, and I guess it was good that I did, because I suddenly heard a loud rattling sound coming from upstairs. I dashed up. Some persistent birds had managed to break through the chicken wire I had put over the attic vents to prevent them from making nests in there, and they had pushed a sturdy branch between a pair of vents and the spinning fan blade. Downstairs I went, but the sound stopped while I was in the basement, and about to throw the fan breaker. Back upstairs to the third floor. The fan was still running. Good, it broke the stick and didn't burn out the motor, right? Nope. Some time later the fan shut off, and it hasn't been back since, though the attic is quite hot. Well, I had work to do, and a party in a few hours. This was no time to worry about the fan. And it was too late to do anything about the dishwasher.

  • The dishwasher had broken during a week-long visit from Renate's parents and sister Jutta. It had been on its way out for a long time, so this was no surprise, and with so many people helping, it wasn't much trouble, either. We shopped carefully, and found a store that promised to deliver our new one on Thursday, the scheduled date of the party this year.

  • But they didn't. No delivery on Friday, either. We finally got the washer on Saturday. I felt like a sinner: using paper plates and plasticware. It sure made clean up easier, though. Sorry, Mom!

  • The West Haven fireworks were washed out on Thursday night. Perfect! The party would not be on a week night, although the variable weather had us in doubt about Friday right up to almost the time of the party.

  • But the party happened, people showed up, and Sue and Nancy came early, to help set up. We got a good crowd. People were eating and laughing and talking and mingling.

  • So many people were happily munching that Renate decided that we needed another table outside, so she went into the basement to see if she could find something to use. Downstairs she went...

  • And it was at that exact time that a valve on the water heater decided to break. Renate, uncharacteristically, screamed my name. I called out for someone to watch the grill, and leapt inside, and downstairs. I immediately shut off the main water supply to the house. We didn't have too much of a flood, but if no one had been downstairs at the exact right time... Ever see a water heater's holding tank empty its guts? I have, and I can tell you that the cleanup is not fun.

  • Marc found the valve that led to the water heater, shut it off, and I was able to send water back into the house.

  • Unfortunately, not all of the house. We had no hot water, no running water in the kitchen sink, and no showers or baths for 3 days. Luckily, we still had a lot of paper plates and plasicware.

  • West Haven put on a nice fireworks show, but there were no fireworks from our neighbors on Friday night.

  • They had their show and competition on their customary date of July 3rd. Until the neighbors started calling the cops. As much as I love fireworks, and as much as I like having my own personal show that I can watch from a folding chair in my driveway, I have to agree with the disgruntled neighbors. Their yards were getting ruined. And, even though I live across the street, I brought out a couple of fire extinguishers, dragged the hose to the front of the house, and turned on the main valve. If you feel that you have to do that, perhaps you are a little too close to the action. So, after about 20 or 30 minutes, the fireworks from both houses abruptly stopped, without the usual grand finale from either. The theory in the neighborhood was that A Phone Call had been made, because no police showed up.

  • Well, not for the fireworks, anyway. I went to bed earlier than this, but one of my neighbors said that sometime between 11:00 and midnight, the people from one "fireworks house" marched noisily down the street, heading for the park at the end of it. "All right," she thought, "the show is going to resume, and in a more appropriate place!" She headed down to the park to watch.

  • OK, there were fireworks, but of an entirely different kind than she had expected. The energetic (and, by this time, well-fueled-up) young lads had headed to the park for a grand and merry brawl in front of the sea wall! I'm told that the punchfest ended when they heard sirens approaching, and that the party broke up then.
We had a very relaxing 4 days off, the water heater was fixed by 10:00 on Monday morning, and I have a call in to an appliance guy who will hopefully fix the fan and the stove.

Oh, yeah, the stove. One of its 4 burners has decided to go on strike.

How was your Fourth of July?


Henry's Web Log: May 4, 2006

May 4, 2006

A Evening With Garrison Keillor

I may be the only person you know who was actually invited to appear on A Prairie Home Companion. I have it in writing.

It happened like this.

I'm a big APHC fan, have been for years.

Garrison Keillor was scheduled to come to CT for a live performance (solo, not the show) and I got tickets. Unfortunately, the show was scheduled for September 14, 2001.

Obviously, he wasn't flying anywhere. And I was in New York by this time, and very, very busy...

The show was rescheduled, and I went. Pictures are here.

The show was great! He was very, very funny. It was also packed, sold out and then some, I believe: SRO and spilling out into the lobby. The fire marshal finally got the people out of the aisles, at least. It was that crowded.

Garrison agreed to autograph books after the show. The line was very long. Mr. Keillor graciously asked that all children and their parents be moved to the head of the line, so the kids could get to bed because (in the rescheduled show) the next day was a school day.

So I was waiting for a long time. Somebody came up with the bright idea of anding out Post-It Notes. So ushers walked around with little yellow pads they'd gotten somewhere, and handed out sheets. You were supposed to save time by writing exactly what you wanted Mr. Keillor to inscribe in your book. He'd read it, write it, scribble his signature, and you'd move on, expeditiously.

A great idea, if you don't take into account one minor detail. Oh, no, a writing implement was not the problem; I usually have one with me. I wrote my own note, passed the pen around, and moved along with the line.

When I got there, I presented my note and the book, and darn if he didn't sign it.

So, what could the hitch possibly be? This question is only applicable to those who know me.

...

That's right...

...nobody bothered to check our notes before we handed them to Mr. Keillor! And he wrote on the flyleaf of my book exactly what I had written on my Post-It Note.

So I am now the proud owner of a book that says, in Mr. Keillor's own handwriting, and signed by him: "Henry, please come be my guest on A Prairie Home Companion."

Don't cringe! I have no reason to ever take him up on it; the coup was enough for me. And, I still have the book.


Henry's Web Log: May 6, 2006

May 6, 2006 I am now in posession of what might possibly be the world's largest fortune cookie.
Or what's left of it. It's chocolate covered. With icing, too.

Thanks, kids!


Henry's Web Log: April 20, 2006

April 20, 2006

Crerative Genealogy

I found the following article on the HTML version of rec.humor.funny

BEING CREATIVE WITH TROUBLESOME KIN

You are working on your family genealogy and for sake of example, let's say that your great-great uncle, Remus Starr, a fellow lacking in character, was hanged for horse stealing and train robbery in Montana in 1889.

A cousin has supplied you with the only known photograph of Remus, showing him standing on the gallows. On the back of the picture are the words:

"Remus Starr: Horse thief, sent to Montana Territorial Prison, 1885. Escaped 1887, robbed the Montana Flyer six times. Caught by Pinkerton detectives, convicted and hanged, 1889."

Pretty grim situation, right? But let's revise things a bit. We simply crop the picture, scan in an enlarged image and edit it with image processing software so that all that is seen is a head shot.

Next, we rewrite the text:
"Remus Starr was a famous cowboy in the Montana Territory. His business empire grew to include acquisition of valuable equestrian assets and intimate dealings with the Montana railroad.

Beginning in 1885, he devoted several years of his life to service at a government facility, finally taking leave to resume his dealings with the railroad. In 1887, he was a key player in a vital investigation run by the renowned Pinkerton Detective Agency. In 1889, Remus passed away during an important civic function held in his honor when the platform upon which he was standing collapsed."

-----

This article was of particular interest to me, considering my own family history, and I issued the following challenge.

The problem is, my Grandfather William actually was a horse thief. He fled his native country of Hungary. He was a gambler and a bounder; he left his wife in New York, to raise their 2 children alone, at a time when women weren't supposed to work. He was a failed newspaper writer and would-be publisher who drank up all his investors's money and died alone, face down and drunk in a New York gutter.

Anyone want to take up the challenge of rewriting THAT one?

The gauntlet was taken up, we have a winner, and I am happy to present the prizewinning rewrite from Lydia Theys.

-----

It isn't often that you have the honor of meeting a man like William Farkas, and it's safe to say that those who've had that honor still speak of it. Right from his birth in Hungary in 1885, William's parents knew they had a truly special child on their hands. He exhibited an early interest in animals, especially horses, an interest for which he was known far and wide. Even as a youth, he was a diligent and determined collector, and many of his fellow Hungarians clamored for the opportunity to meet him to discuss his holdings. You can see this in the very early photo of a crowd of enthusiastic men chasing him, just for the chance to speak.

William left Hungary at age 24 to spread his wings and create a new life in the New World. He became interested in finances, and made his living through a series of bold investments in New York. Sadly, his wife resented his exuberant lifestyle and general joie de vivre, and she took their children and went her own way. William, bereft at the loss of his beloved children, channeled his sorrow into action and threw himself with renewed enthusiasm into his interest in fine wines. It is a tribute to the depth of his talents that he became a writer and even dabbled in publishing with mixed success. William died in a tragic roadside accident at the age of 54, still sought by high-flying financial types and well-placed government officials to the very end. All were devastated to have missed him.


Henry's Web Log: April 5, 2006

April 5, 2006

A New Haven Highway View

President Bush is coming to Connecticut, the home state that he denies, for a short visit to Bridgeport today. He is landing at Tweed New Haven Airport, and will be driven south on I-95 to his destination. I live near that airport, and I watched Air Force One land when he came to Connecticut a couple of years ago to speak at a Yale graduation.

There are some differences this time.

Last time, a bunch of us lined up near the southwest gate to watch the big bird land. I had the ham radio in my car tuned to New Haven Tower, and we got to listen to the controller's chatter. We saw the plane land, and then lined up along Townsend Avenue and watched from the sidewalk as his limousine drove past.

But not this time.

For this visit, the airport was ringed with empty city and school busses, to form a barrier around it. Townsend Avenue will be blocked off under emergency order. There are big helicopters flying over the area, providing, I guess, air cover.

Air cover? This is a college town. What are they covering? The parking situation at the local pizza joints?

But wait, it gets better.

Those of you who are not familiar with the infamous Northeast Corridor may need some perspective for what comes next. This stretch of highway is the main thoroughfare for the megalopolis that stretches from Boston to New York City. There are parallel roads, including Route 1 and the The Merritt (and Wilbur Cross) Parkway. Route 1 is studded with stop lights, and commercial vehicles are not permitted on the Merritt.

So that leaves I-95. A highway legendary for its traffic snarls, but essential to the commercial traffic of the Northeast U.S.

And they're shutting it down between New Haven and Bridgeport for Mr. Bush's visit. Closed. No traffic. State and local police blocking all entrance ramps, feeder roads, close side streets and access points. A highway deserted, while Mr. Bush's motorcade rushes by, bringing him to his carefully scripted speech at the Playhouse on the Green in Bridgeport.

What strikes me about this visit (in addition to the cost of all this security and the traffic snarls it is causing) is how much more insulated Mr. Bush has become in the two years since his last visit to the same area.

I contrast that with this morning's description of Bill Clinton visiting Block Island, when he was still President, from one of my colleagues at work. She says that when he arrived, Mr. Clinton stepped out into the crowd, shook hands with the people, mingled, posed for photos, and seemed generally glad to see the throngs surrounding him.

It is fair to say that Mr. Bush will not be doing any unscripted mingling.

He's coming to speak about health care. He's coming to tout Health Savings Accounts. Mr. Bush will not be unveiling any improvements to our troubled health care system today. An HSA is not a solution to a problem; it is an alternative, with tax advantages, for those of us who already have enough money to take care of our basic medical needs. The access issues persist as the infrastructure continues to suffer.

It sometimes seems as if Mr. Bush is trying to get a picture of a problem through a camera that still has it's lens cap on.

This is not an idle, or purely rhetorical, analogy.

I have a link to traffic cameras on my web page. I use them to view highway conditions. It helps when making travel choices, particularly during rush hour, when I have several alternatives. Since before 9:30 this morning those cameras, bought and maintained with my tax dollars, have been dark, blacked out along his entire route.

Looking at the highway, even when it is nothing more than speculative curiosity, is certainly not a security threat. But today, those displays have been rendered opaque.

The busses ring the airport. The cameras are shuttered. The roads have been cleared. The blades of the choppers beat overhead.

Mr. Bush goes zooming by. But the view from the highway is completely dark.


Henry's Web Log MArch 13, 2006

March 13, 2006
Mr. Hayes

It is with sadness that I report on the death of our grand and noble cat, Mr. Hayes.

Hayes came to us about 15 and a half years ago as a stray kitten, small enough to be held in the palm of my hand.

The children and I came home from a vacation in Vermont to find that a mother cat had had a litter of kittens near our Nash Street front yard. All but this one kitten perished. The consensus was that all the cats had drunk from a pool of antifreeze on the street and were poisoned by it. All but this one kitten, who survived to be the pickiest eater of any feline I've ever known, possibly lending some credence to the theory.

We didn't know that at the time. In fact, we didn't even know if the cat would survive. (For that matter, we didn't even know his gender yet.) After much persuasion by the kids, we took him to a nearby veterinary hospital.

Here, stories differ. I distinctly remember agreeing to take him to be checked out. The children remembered me saying that we'd adopt him if he was OK. It turned out that he was robust and healthy, and had only a relatively minor case of ear mites.

He became our cat.

For this, I am inexpressibly glad. He brought much happiness into the lives of everyone who knew him, with the possible exception of one neighborhood cat, Stripey.

Thank you, kids. Once again, you both done me proud.

The children named him Hayes, after a guided missile cruiser (colored gray, as was he) they had recently toured. He eventually came to resemble that vessel, topping the scales at over 19 pounds, some years after The Big Snip.

But, when he was young, he was lithe and graceful, able to take huge leaps onto narrow surfaces and walk along them with nonchalance.

He never really had the benefit of parents, and needed coaching in how to be a cat. For the first year or two he didn't even seem to know how to meow. Felinious coaching came in the form of a neighborhood stray, Missouri, who would knock on our fire-escape window, get let in, eat, sleep, and apparently coach Hayes. Missouri would leave at night, but gradually Hayes started acting more like a typical cat.

And he learned to meow. In fact, he developed a distinct meow, which sounded very clearly as if he was saying "Hello". He had excellent pronunciation, and I could sometimes flip a person out by introducing them to Hayes and instructing him to "say Hello". Occasionally, he would take the cue. Candid Camera would be proud of the reactions I got.

Hayes was the smartest cat I ever knew. He learned to work my answering machine. Or, at least, to hit that big silver button that stopped all those funny talking noises. I had to keep my answering machine in a drawer.

He learned to work the doorbell. I have a device that responds to the vibrations of the first-floor doorbell, and transmits a series of chimes up to what used to be my third-floor office. It also reacts to loud sounds in the vicinity, such as vacuuming. Hayes learned to swat at the box when I was home, he was bored, and he felt that he was overdue for attention.

He responded to verbal cues sometimes, eerily as if he understood English. Renate has always maintained that he did, though I reject that theory, in favor of his understanding of tone of voice, intent, habit, and cues that I probably can't explain with my 5 senses and my human ways of looking at the world.

He only occasionally saw a mouse but, when he did, he accelerated to astonishing speeds. Hayes was not one to expend energy unnecessarily. But, when he wanted to, he could move like Stirling Moss.

He was a dignified, noble and well-mannered cat, proud to just this side of haughty in his bearing, and crossing that line when forced to share space with our other cat, Myst. At least when the humans were looking. If we came downstairs quietly, we would frequently find them curled up together. If we were looking, Hayes would turn tail and stalk away if Myst approached. But if Hayes was already lying down, he would suffer to be licked by Myst, though I never saw him return the favor.

Hayes would sometimes wrestle and tussle with Myst and once, in his heavy cruiser days, I saw him run across the living room and head-butt Myst, sending him flying, ending the conflict, and dropping me helplessly to the floor, weak with laughter.

I only saw him do that once, though the two did seem to have marathon games of soccer with a rolling footstool I used to have. We would hear them at night, batting it back and forth across the wooden floor downstairs, and in the morning, we would find it lodged in the most interesting places. It is not every cat that can play soccer.

In recognition of Hayes's bearing, we eventually started calling him Mr. Hayes as he matured into a proud and dignified old man, presiding over his household and yards.

Hayes always kept his dignity, except for where cats always lick themselves, and his habit of stuffing his nose firmly in Myst's rear when the latter returned from his daily jaunts. They would parade, seemingly attached, across the kitchen until Myst sat down at the food bowl. I found this habit uncharacteristically gross, until Renate pointed out that "You never know what he might be learning by assmosis!", a theory I have no words to dispute.

Somehow, he was uncommonly intelligent.

Until his last few days, even during his months of decline and weakness, he would always come to the bottom of the stairs to greet me every morning, with a clear and hearty "Hello". He would continue to greet me until I changed the water in his bowl, which he trained me to do first thing every morning.

He was a remarkably healthy cat until the end. Though he was declawed (an operation absolutely forced by necessity, yet one I will never voluntarily force a cat to undergo again) he could stay out all night, and he never seemed to get into fights.

After a decade and a half of being friend, companion and housemate, he started to decline, and developed kidney failure. The progression was fairly rapid, and we did not have to take too many extreme measures.

He died, at home and alone, sometime on Friday, March 10, 2006. I can honestly say that he was loved by and will be missed by all who knew him.

He was buried in our back yard, next to a Euonymus bush, on a sunny, beautiful, and unusually warm Saturday morning. He was ceremoniously laid to rest in a box, wrapped in his favorite quilt, and with a can of tuna by his head.

********************

You lived gracefully, and died with a dignity befitting your life. Go in peace, Old Boy. We loved you truly, you returned that love abundantly; you will be sorely missed and fondly remembered for the rest of our days.

You truly were a legend in your own time.

And you were a very good cat.


Henry's Web Log, February 6, 2006

February 6, 2006
Antiques, Gifts, Cream

When I first saw the words "Antiques, Gifts, Cream" writ large on the roof of a long barn I thought "I must be in Hershey for sure!" but, after some reflection, I realized that there are probably many places in this great country that would have advertisements just like this.

It's probably not that unusual. But I was, in fact, in Hershey, PA.

The Top 101 signs that you are in Hershey, PA. And yes, they are all true.
  10. Milton Hershey is venerated. In public. Everywhere.
    9. The streets are misleadingly marked and the directions are worse2.
    8. Attorneys have large billboards, advertising their services for DUI infractions.
    7. The roller coaster. It's visible from everywhere in town.
    6. Streets have chocolate-themed names.
    5. Almost every dish has chocolate in the recipe. Including beef and chicken.
    4. Your hotel room has a Gideon Bible and a biography of Milton Hershey.
    3. The town has an annual Chocolate Fest.
    2. You can buy chocolate tomato ketchup.
    1. You can go to a "chocolate spa", immerse yourself in the stuff, and get hosed off.

Remember: I am not kidding, or exaggerating any of this!

In case you think that misleading (or outright fabricated) advertising is a new trend, this advertisement, proclaiming that Hershey's chocolate is "More Sustaining than Meat!" gives a little perspective. It was prominently displayed in the lodge where I stayed.

I was, in fact, in Hershey to volunteer for one 4-hour session of the aforementioned Chocolate Fest. Theme: Chocolate and Love. Let's not get into why I made a 10-hour round trip, including an overnight stay at a lodge3, to volunteer at this event. It's irrelevant and time-consuming.

The best part about the trip was that I finally got to visit an Antique Auto Museum, that I've been wanting to see for years. It was worth the trip. The background is cheesy, but this 1938 Bantam is quite real.

The very close second part was that Susquehanna Service Dogs took part in the Chocolate Fest, and I (who had a dog-deprived childhood and who have been making up for it ever since) got to do plenty of meeting, greeting, petting, scritching, and reassuring every one of them that they were A Good Dog.

The worst part? I think I don't ever want to see chocolate again, though I know that this, too, will change, and I will revert to my customary chocoholic tendencies.

I actually didn't eat much chocolate at all. I honestly prefer dark chocolate and (though this might make me sound unAmerican) Hershey's chocolate is not high on my list of my favorites. No offense intended.

It was all for a good cause but still...

...I couldn't help but find the whole thing obscene.

OK, the Chocolate Ball was nice, in spite of the giant ice sculpture, through which tuxedoed servers poured chocolate martinis. Since I've never liked vodka, chocolate drinks, sweet drinks in general, and pretentious cocktails in triangular glasses, I was not reminded of The Bad Old Days.

No, it was the whole Hershey Scene that I found practically intolerable. Chocolate ketchup? A chocolate spa? I'm sorry if I've turned into a curmudgeon, but there it is: in my world view, a chocolate spa is nothing short of obscene. If you like this sort of thing, by all means, go for it! This is only my opinion. It's worth about the two cents worth of recycled electrons that I've used to create this page.

So, it was a working weekend. I managed to cram in a little fun (I always do, don't I?) and the whole Pennsylvania Dutch area is a very nice place to visit. And the Amish have, in my opinion, some very good thoughts about how to live well. Just watch out for slow-moving buggies, and the people who need the those DUI attorneys!

1. This started out as a "top 10" list but, at the request of Barbara, I am adding #11: the streetlights, which are shaped like Hershey Kisses®. Actually, there's a lot of stuff in Hershey shaped like candy, but particularly Kisses®, for some reason.
2. A situation not limited to Hershey. Boston is still worse.
3. The Hershey Lodge, of course!


Henry's Web Log, December 12, 2005

December 12, 2005

It's not OK.

I just got an error message from a program running on Windows XP. I've gotten used to that. In fact, we have an entry in our time-tracking system labeled WWR: Waiting for Windows to Restart"1. I put in 200 minutes last week.

But today, it suddenly occurred to me to ask...

Why do I have to AGREE to errors?

You all know what I mean. You get a popup box that says something like:

Your computer is about to
roll over on its back, put
it's paws in the air, blow
smoke out its butt and die.

Press [ OK ] to continue.

And I can't do a darned thing with the machine until I press OK. Why?

It's not as if I get a choice. When I press OK it is going to reboot. I can't recover from the error. It is not going to save my data, close the one failing program, and restart it. No, it is going to die, no matter what I say. Why do I have to agree to that? It's humiliating.

I'm stuck in some kind of weird limbo until I press that button. I know that the only two things I can do are to click OK or turn off the power. Even the Roman Catholic Church has shrugged off the whole limbo thing. Why is Microsoft keeping us there?

Picture this situation. You're walking down a dark street. A robber leaps out, sticks a gun in your ribs, and says he's going to shoot you. You say: "If I give you everything in my wallet will you let me go?" "No, but I will give you a 30% discount on your next upgrade."

"Upgrade? So, you're not going to kill me?"

"Naaahhh, just kidding. I'm still going to kill you, but I want you to tell me that it's OK with you, first."

"Are you crazy, or is this a joke?"

"It's not a joke. And it doesn't matter whether I'm crazy or not, because I'm going to take all your money and I am going to kill you. But I want you to tell me that it's OK first."

"Screw you!"

Bang.

Now, this is exactly how Microsoft works, except that you can't tell them to wank off. They don't give you the option.

And this, I think, is why Microsoft has written so much bad code for so many years.

You have been telling them that it's OK.

No, it is NOT okay! Of COURSE it's not OK! Why don't they give us another frickin' option, those banana-heads?

But they don't.

Every minute of every day and night, someone, somewhere, is clicking OK and telling Microsoft that they really don't mind bad, buggy, unstable code.

And Microsoft is listening.

We all need a "screw you!" button.

Only then will Redmond finally starting getting the message that bad code, lost data, and frequent resets are not OK with us.

1. Not really, but we should.


Henry's Web Log June 6, 2005

June 6, 2005
If I Ruled The World

If I ruled the world, if any tax exempt entity, including religious organizations of any kind, got involved in political persuasion or posturing, or the attempt to influence laws or public policies, they would immediately forfit their tax-exempt status. If you want to dictate public policy you need to be a player in the game, and take the consequences. If you want to influence government (which derives its income from tax revenues) you need to pay into the pool if you want a say in how it's spent.


Henry's Web Log: December 16, 2004

December 16, 2004
Cars, Cats, Dentists, Guitars, and Molotov Cocktails

I just got back from taking my car in to the dealer for service.

Normally I wouldn't do such a silly thing, but the "Check Engine!" light kept coming on. I normally use a really good local mechanic but they do not have the computer that diagnoses this sort of problem. Only the dealer does.

I don't like taking my car in to the dealer, because every time I do, it seems to cost me about $300.00. Even for an oil change. Oh, it may start out as an oil change, but then the mechanic inevitably comes up to me with a worried look on his face, slowly wiping his hands on a rag. "You're lucky you brought your car in today," he'll say, "when we went to remove the brake fluid container cover I noticed that you had a discombulated fratistat! You could have been stranded!" He never actually says that I would be left stranded on the side of the road in the darkness and freezing rain unless I had someone trained by the dealer changing my oil, not some poor private mechanic who's only been in business for 40 years and who might not have spotted a problem like this. He never actually says that, but tone and facial expressions can communicate a lot.

I, in turn, never ask why he was removing the cover for the brake fluid well, when he was supposed to be changing my oil, because I know better. He always has an answer ready, I'll never understand it, and I always end up giving up and accepting whatever he says.

The mechanics have been trained to see me coming.

Mort [not his real name] elbows Jocko [also not real, that's the name of a monkey] when they see me pull in the drive. "Watch this," says Mort, and he takes my keys, puts the car on the lift, removes the nut in the bottom of the oil pan, cranks off the filter, and lets the system drain. While it's doing this, he walks toward me, slowly wiping his hand on a rag. Jocko appears to be working on another car, but I notice that he is within hearing range, and the boom box is suddenly quiet. "You know, says Mort, "it's lucky you brought your car in today. You need a new back seat right away." "Back seat," I reply, "why would I need a new back seat? The one I have is fine; I never use it." Well," he says, and starts on a long ramble that begins with: "back in the days when cars had distributor caps..." and concludes with "...so it could catch fire at any moment!" Some time between those two phrases I have reached into my pocket, pulled out $300.00 in small unmarked bills, and handed them over to Mort.

He knew I'd have them. It's a ritual we go through every single time.

So, when the "Check Engine Now!" light came on, I knew that Jerry [his real name] wouldn't have the computer to diagnose this one, even though he's a fine mechanic, he charges reasonable prices, and I know where his stack of men's magazines is stored. I knew that I would have to call the dealer.

In fact, I think of the Check Engine Now Or You Might Die!" light as the "Dealer Light". Every once in a while the dealer needs $300.00, it's my turn, a big amber light goes on on my dashboard, and I bring my car in.

I hate idiot lights. I'm a male. I like meters, dials, gauges, toggle switches and adjustment knobs. I want to know my oil pressure, amps, and engine temperature. I don't want a big red light that flashes on, effectively announcing: "Your car just ran out of oil!", which is exactly what oil lights do. Unfortunately, there are 56 million Americans too dumb to read their gauges, so we're stuck with idiot lights, though I know a few people who seem to be walking around a piece of electrical tape on their foreheads, if you catch my drift.

But the light was on, I didn't know what it meant, I have to make a long drive in the near future, and I knew that the longer I waited the more I'd end up shelling out. I wanted to keep my costs a low as possible, to save my remaining money for the vet.

As it happens, my cat Myst (the one who thinks he's Muhammad Ali but fights like a bunny and is too dumb to run) got into yet another fight, and I needed to summon the vet. She makes house calls, as noted here before, so I scheduled the mechanic for 8:00 and the vet for 11:00. Perfect, because the vet is always late, dear lady that she truly is, so I figured I'd have about 3 and a half hours. That should take care of the dealer.

I waited a half an hour for the diagnosis, until the speaker in the waiting room summoned me to the service counter. That is never a good sign.

"Well," the dealer explained, "you have a bad knock sensor." I asked if I could go for a while with the "Check Engine Now Or You Might Die A Horrible Flaming Death!" light on, and he said no. I could be stranded on the side of the road at any time if the whatchamacallit coil does not get any input from the knock sensor. "You see," he began, "back in the days when cars had distributor caps" (and yes, he really did say this) and he kept on talking until I nodded. The car was still in the bay, and Jocko was poised over his tool kit. Mort relayed my nod with his own, and Jocko dropped his rag on the tool cabinet, flicked his tail, and strolled off to the men's room. I dutifully herded myself back to the waiting room where I tried to concentrate on the book I was reading, trapped as I was by a television program about laying tile, and a woman who was using her cell phone to catch up on every boring call she had put off for the last nine years, I think. The dealer promised me that he'd have me out of there in an hour.

Once again, the speaker intoned my name, an hour and twenty minutes later. I strolled to the counter, and was presented with the bill. It was $303.88. I think they're mocking me. I asked about the warranty on the part. Mort looked at me as if he had never heard that question before. He made a phone call, hung up, and announced that the knock sensor had an unlimited mileage warranty for one year. No, I am not making this up.

I wrote the check, pocketed my car key (which was now on a genuine shiny plastic Subaru key fob that I will never use) and headed on back to meet the vet at my house at 11:00. I even had time for some breakfast!

The vet called promptly at 10:58, informed me that she was leaving her house now, and estimated that she would be there in about 40 minutes.

I have my $300.00 ready.

P.S.
I have a nasty cold, I'm going to the dentist to get my teeth deep scaled tomorrow, and I have a guitar in a shop that is suffering from smoke damage because someone threw a Molotov cocktail into the tuxedo shop two stores away, thoroughly burning both adjoining structures. I have to go over to the guitar shop today, to see how bad my expensive guitar now smells. This involves either taking a circuitous route, or driving right past the very same Subaru dealer that I visited earlier this morning. Note To Subaru Dealer: I'm out of money now. It's someone else's turn.


Henry's Web Log: October 28, 2004

October 28, 2004 What a strange, strange night, last night. Well, yes, there was the Blood Moon and the Red Sox won the World Series. But I'm talking about some telephone wires.

Yesterday, my new next-door neighbor arrived and unpacked. The moving trucks were tall, and the wires on the poles outside of her house were low. The inevitable happened. But nobody reported it for several hours.

Nobody, that is, until I did.

By that time, of course, I was inside my car, with wires entangling the outside.

I was coming home from karate, and it was dark. I did not see the black wires laying across the road and, in fact, just above windshield level. I drove right into 'em. Not knowing that there were four wires down (I'd only seen the one that slapped across my windshield) I tried to back up. This did not work, and my car became ensnared in the wires.

I didn't know what kind of wires they were yet, so I sat in may car, picked up the cell phone, and called 911. They advised me to stay right where I was, and and stressed that I should not try to get out of the car. I was happy to comply.

I have to say, the firefighters got here pretty quickly. Then again, I was one street away from a road that has a firehouse at either end. I had my choice of companies.

They discussed the situation for a while. Then one of the firefighters approached my car, and I rolled down my window part way. He pointed to the wire outside the driver's side window. "I think this one's cab..." he said, reaching for it, and continued: "BZZZZT!" as he put his hand around it. Since this was exactly the kind of thing I would have done, and since I knew that he would never have touched it if he'd had any doubts, I just sat there, grinned at him, and said: "Looks like you've got the situation wired." He let go, not producing the laugh he had undoubedly intended for his fellows.

I'd gotten the car so tangled that there was nothing for it but to cut some of the wires. NOTE, direct from the firefighters: If you drive into a tangle of wires, don't back up. You'll only make things worse. I know this now.

Between getting entangled, realizing it, calling, waiting, and getting freed, I was only sitting in the car for about a half an hour. That wasn't so bad for me, but I took out the phone and the cable service from our new neighbor on her first night in the 'hood.

Sorry, Bernadette! Welcome to the neighborhood. I owe you one already!

And me? I went home to watch the moon and the Cards be eclipsed, and to see the Sox slip the surly bounds of a curse.

And then I crawled right under the covers and I didn't dare move until morning!


Henry's Web Log: October 27, 2004

October 27, 2004 OK, Red Sox fans: Pigs can fly, hell is frozen, the moon is red, and the slipper finally fits. It's your turn. We can spare a few and still be champs and "The Idiots" played darned good ball. Congratulations!

Henry's Web Log, October 25, 2004

October 25, 2004 The following clip pretty much expresses how I feel about Bush: http://www.ifilm.com/bigpicture/politicalincumbent. Click on the "Seriously" ad, and select your connection speed and player type.

You can see that I want Mr. Bush out of office, pretty badly. I want him to go back to his ranch in Crawford, TX (where even his hometown newspaper is endorsing John Kerry!) with his tail between his legs and, for good measure, let's get rid of Brother Jeb before he does any more damage, too.

But, alas...

I am sure that Mr. Bush is going to get a second term.
One way or another.

In fact, I am so sure of this that I have a little bet going.

    IF John Kerry wins this upcoming Presidential election
    AND
    IF Mr. Kerry actually takes office
    THEN
At the first New Haven Contra dance after Kerry takes office I will paint my face blue and stand on my head.

Now, I am not a betting man. Nor have I ever stood on my head before. But many people have stepped forward (how kind of them) offering to paint, to help me get on my head, and to help me stay there. I am assuming that there will also be pictures.

This is the one bet in my life (there haven't been many) that I sincerely, thoroughly, and with all my heart want to lose.

Vote.

If for no other reason, vote, to turn Henry blue in the face.

P.S. If you want something a whole lot grittier, Click Here, but please be warned that it will take you to Eminem's new video, Mosh.
(The link is pretty slow, so if the new window times out please click on this link directly http://www.gnn.tv/videos/viewer.php?id=27&spd=hi.
This site is getting a lot of traffic, so please be patient.)


Henry's Web Log: October 12, 2004