Borders is closing and it's all my fault.
I share in that fault though. I'm one of millions of Kindle owners who, joined with Ipad users and the rest, are pulling the publishing world into the digital age whether they want to or not. So no big surprise that Borders is calling it quits.
The truth is though that I LIKE books. I suspect that folks my age and older (47 currently - check back later) and perhaps those from a generation earlier will always have a printed page bias. It's a tactile thing which a computer screen cannot give us. I still remember wanting a home library with shelves and shelves of books. I like the smell. I like handling those old books with brittle pages and wondering who else has read them.
Libraries, though, will soon be a thing of the past. They will become mostly WiFi spots with a few picture books hanging around. The traditional library will become something more like a museum. And so goes progress.
I wonder if those ancient cave painters shook their heads at the stone tablet advocates who, in turn, decried papyrus scrolls as being a short term fad. Soon, I'd imagine, we'll have the words just beamed directly into our noggins so that there's nothing to hold at all. Gonna be a bleak day for bookmarker companies, for sure.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Friday, July 15, 2011
As If It's Not Bad Enough
Yesterday I had to go to a funeral.
She was a vibrant young woman of just 32 years. The type of person that just made you say "wow" after meeting. You wanted to be near her. Folks hung on her words. Fun. Classy. A positive influence wherever she went.
Modern medicine couldn't save her though and the First Baptist Church of Podunk was filled to the rafters with family, distant relatives, friends, coworkers and damned near the whole county. As it should have been. Podunk is smack in the middle of gnat country here in the south: it was hot and it was buggy, even inside the church.
So there we were, sweating and swatting and swaying uncomfortably on our feet because it was standing room only in the back while, just to make things worse, were three ministers who spent more time talking about some dude named Jesus than they did about the life of the beautiful person we were there to mourn.
The phrase 'ad nauseum' applies here. We wanted stories about her youth. We wanted anecdotes from friends. We wanted remembrances from her family. We wanted to grieve and mourn and cry and feel just a bit better, if not a bit melancholy, when it was all through. Instead it was Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.
"I feel it would be an absolute SIN if everyone here today has not accepted Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior," they preached and, in my opinion, missed the point entirely. Which is a damned shame. Bad enough we just lost a loved one.
Which made me think that perhaps we shouldn't leave the preaching up to the preacher. Folks make their own wedding vows. All of us have considered our epitaphs at one point or another (I'm going with "I'm With Stupid.") So why not write our own service script? Not just a eulogy but the whole entire service? I think I'm going to open mine with a joke - you know, that one about a bar.
She was a vibrant young woman of just 32 years. The type of person that just made you say "wow" after meeting. You wanted to be near her. Folks hung on her words. Fun. Classy. A positive influence wherever she went.
Modern medicine couldn't save her though and the First Baptist Church of Podunk was filled to the rafters with family, distant relatives, friends, coworkers and damned near the whole county. As it should have been. Podunk is smack in the middle of gnat country here in the south: it was hot and it was buggy, even inside the church.
So there we were, sweating and swatting and swaying uncomfortably on our feet because it was standing room only in the back while, just to make things worse, were three ministers who spent more time talking about some dude named Jesus than they did about the life of the beautiful person we were there to mourn.
The phrase 'ad nauseum' applies here. We wanted stories about her youth. We wanted anecdotes from friends. We wanted remembrances from her family. We wanted to grieve and mourn and cry and feel just a bit better, if not a bit melancholy, when it was all through. Instead it was Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.
"I feel it would be an absolute SIN if everyone here today has not accepted Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior," they preached and, in my opinion, missed the point entirely. Which is a damned shame. Bad enough we just lost a loved one.
Which made me think that perhaps we shouldn't leave the preaching up to the preacher. Folks make their own wedding vows. All of us have considered our epitaphs at one point or another (I'm going with "I'm With Stupid.") So why not write our own service script? Not just a eulogy but the whole entire service? I think I'm going to open mine with a joke - you know, that one about a bar.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
A Thoroughly Researched Observation of Neal Schon
Seriously, I've given this a lot of thought and consideration. I've spent countless seconds working on this post regarding Journey's guitar virtuoso, Neal Schon. Although, for the sake of this blog, I primarily used three sources:
1. A spot he did for a local radio station in which he lingered a little long and much too hard on the word "rock" as though he was being tough.
2. A copy of Journey's latest release in which the guitar work is a bit more pervasive and heavy than one would want.
3. Watching a Journey concert on Palladia - see #2.
Based on these three sources, I'm willing to state, unequivocally, that Neal wants desperately to be a hard rock guitar hero and not be forever associated with a chick band.
Not that there's anything wrong with a chick band.
Listen, if it weren't for "Don't Stop Believing" I'm pretty sure I would have never achieved second base (and a big lead towards third) with Theresa Crooks back in ninth grade. I suspect had the radio station followed up with "Open Arms" instead of "My Sharona" I might have been looking at home... So, hey, mad props to chick bands like Journey, without them some of us guys would have never had a chance.
Besides, while you've been reading this, Neal's made more money on the royalties from that "na, na, nana" song than most of us will earn in a lifetime. And perhaps that's what you should focus on, Neal. You helped countless young men come close to realizing various illicit fantasies while making what I assume must be a butt load of money. All in all, not a bad legacy, I say.
(In order to preserve my blogging integrity, I feel I must confess that any base running with Theresa Crooks is purely my fanciful, wishful thinking. In fairness, I spent enough time imagining various bases occupied by Theresa that I feel like I do have some basis to make such claims. So please, Theresa, grant me a little poetic license here. Thank you.)
((And, yes, I know, it's a weird subject to continue a blog that's been dormant for quite some time. But you should expect that out of me. As long as I can remember the log in info, this blog is "not dead yet."))
1. A spot he did for a local radio station in which he lingered a little long and much too hard on the word "rock" as though he was being tough.
2. A copy of Journey's latest release in which the guitar work is a bit more pervasive and heavy than one would want.
3. Watching a Journey concert on Palladia - see #2.
Based on these three sources, I'm willing to state, unequivocally, that Neal wants desperately to be a hard rock guitar hero and not be forever associated with a chick band.
Not that there's anything wrong with a chick band.
Listen, if it weren't for "Don't Stop Believing" I'm pretty sure I would have never achieved second base (and a big lead towards third) with Theresa Crooks back in ninth grade. I suspect had the radio station followed up with "Open Arms" instead of "My Sharona" I might have been looking at home... So, hey, mad props to chick bands like Journey, without them some of us guys would have never had a chance.
Besides, while you've been reading this, Neal's made more money on the royalties from that "na, na, nana" song than most of us will earn in a lifetime. And perhaps that's what you should focus on, Neal. You helped countless young men come close to realizing various illicit fantasies while making what I assume must be a butt load of money. All in all, not a bad legacy, I say.
(In order to preserve my blogging integrity, I feel I must confess that any base running with Theresa Crooks is purely my fanciful, wishful thinking. In fairness, I spent enough time imagining various bases occupied by Theresa that I feel like I do have some basis to make such claims. So please, Theresa, grant me a little poetic license here. Thank you.)
((And, yes, I know, it's a weird subject to continue a blog that's been dormant for quite some time. But you should expect that out of me. As long as I can remember the log in info, this blog is "not dead yet."))
Monday, January 18, 2010
MLK Day, Off the Cuff
"All progress is precarious, and the solution of one problem brings us face to face with another problem."
Martin Luther King Jr. said that and amen to it. Actually, I have no idea what the context of this quote was - I'm not an MLK scholar. But it's a quote I have always liked - even more than the impassioned "I have a dream" speech. What it says to me is that our work is never done. There's always a next step.
There's a lot of kvetching going on about today's holiday. Does MLK deserve it? Am I racist for even asking? Is it a black holiday? And so on and so on.
We've legislated for minorities. In the not very distant past - actually within my lifetime - we've given blacks the right to vote, mandated equal pay and legislated against all discrimination. As though we were gifting them for good behavior or some such. So the balance is equal, right?
Except we have this 'black holiday'. And BET. And Ebony. And all the other 'black only' media. And there's a lot of whites that don't like it.
So, hey, big surprise! The laws say we're all equal but, gosh, it doesn't really seem like we're on the same team, does it? I think THAT'S the next problem - the next task we face. Until we quit putting value in the frivolous things we decide define us: race, religion, sexual preference et cetera we will NEVER have equality. We will never acquire MLK's dream:
"I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: 'We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.'"
And I don't think he meant equal but separate.
Patrick Henry once said: "United we stand, divided we fall. Let us not split into factions which must destroy that union upon which our existence hangs.” I can find more quotes along the same lines - we've been told over and over again. And yet it's a lesson we refuse to learn, much to our detriment. Will we ever?
Martin Luther King Jr. said that and amen to it. Actually, I have no idea what the context of this quote was - I'm not an MLK scholar. But it's a quote I have always liked - even more than the impassioned "I have a dream" speech. What it says to me is that our work is never done. There's always a next step.
There's a lot of kvetching going on about today's holiday. Does MLK deserve it? Am I racist for even asking? Is it a black holiday? And so on and so on.
We've legislated for minorities. In the not very distant past - actually within my lifetime - we've given blacks the right to vote, mandated equal pay and legislated against all discrimination. As though we were gifting them for good behavior or some such. So the balance is equal, right?
Except we have this 'black holiday'. And BET. And Ebony. And all the other 'black only' media. And there's a lot of whites that don't like it.
So, hey, big surprise! The laws say we're all equal but, gosh, it doesn't really seem like we're on the same team, does it? I think THAT'S the next problem - the next task we face. Until we quit putting value in the frivolous things we decide define us: race, religion, sexual preference et cetera we will NEVER have equality. We will never acquire MLK's dream:
"I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: 'We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.'"
And I don't think he meant equal but separate.
Patrick Henry once said: "United we stand, divided we fall. Let us not split into factions which must destroy that union upon which our existence hangs.” I can find more quotes along the same lines - we've been told over and over again. And yet it's a lesson we refuse to learn, much to our detriment. Will we ever?
Monday, September 14, 2009
US Airways
I don't fly a lot, maybe once a quarter or so, and when I do it's generally on a Delta jet. It's what folks in ATL do. Anyhow, recently I had the pleasure of making US Airways my choice for flying. I can tell you it will be the last time!
So, there I am, at the gate, and it's utter chaos. Folks queuing up in line all the way down to the next concourse. The flight is overbooked, they say, and extravagant offers are made for giving up seats. Folks are being paged, uniformed employees are cross checking paper lists and the buzz in the area was quite frenetic.
To make the boarding process easier, they print a zone on each boarding pass. You board by that zone - this way they can control the process better. Probably would work better if they put less than 90% of all passengers in Zone 4.
So it is that I begin to board with my Zone 4 peeps when I'm confronted with the Bag Nazi. FAA regulations demand that only two bags can be carried on board. So the poor lady in front of me had to consolidate her purse into a carry on bag. Once she had that cumbersome package together she was allowed to go down the jetway, where she met Bag Nazi #2. This Nazi's job was to inform people that their bags were too large to fit in the overhead bin. So all the folks who jammed their purses, cameras, laptops et cetera into a carry on bag were now confronted with having to CHECK them.
You can imagine the chaos, can't you?
My backpack escaped attention but it turned out that the overhead bins on the Airbus jet were tiny. And because I was at the end of the herd, there was no space left. I jammed my pack under the seat and gave it a good kick to make sure it escaped notice as it didn't quite fit entirely under. I need not have worried as George Clinton had bigger problems.
Well, okay, he wasn't the real George but he plays him on a tribute band, somewhere, I'm sure. So, the P-Funk wannabe has his two bags and they are big. And they of course don't fit overhead. He looks around, furtively, and sees he has no options. The flight staff, having dealt with this issue many times before, go about professionally ignoring him. The line comes to a stop as the befuddled, bedregged one is clearly lost...
Finally one flight attendent decides to take matters into her own hands and solve the situation by getting on the intercom and telling the man holding up the line to store his bags in the overhead bin or under the seat in front of him and clear the aisle so they can continue boarding, thank you! George places one bag under the seat and sits with a huff, placing his other bag on his lap, wedged between his gut and the seat in front of him. He mutters. And I'm pretty sure the word he is using is not 'funk'.
Well, I knew right away that they would not let him keep that bag on his lap which is why I was not surprised that a cute little blonde attendant soon came by, placed her hand on the his shoulder and said in a sing song voice, while not really looking at him, to place his bag under the seat so we can take off. And she walks away. Definitely not 'funk' this time.
Sensing the man was clearly a trouble maker, they finally send in the big gun - a male flight attendant from First Class. Followed by Cute Blonde, they descend upon the recalictrant Funkmeister and explain that the bag must be stored. George finally gets an audience as he explains that there is no room above or below. In a snit, the First Class dude takes his bag and tells George that they just store it up front for him.
We all collectively shake our heads.
So, there I am, at the gate, and it's utter chaos. Folks queuing up in line all the way down to the next concourse. The flight is overbooked, they say, and extravagant offers are made for giving up seats. Folks are being paged, uniformed employees are cross checking paper lists and the buzz in the area was quite frenetic.
To make the boarding process easier, they print a zone on each boarding pass. You board by that zone - this way they can control the process better. Probably would work better if they put less than 90% of all passengers in Zone 4.
So it is that I begin to board with my Zone 4 peeps when I'm confronted with the Bag Nazi. FAA regulations demand that only two bags can be carried on board. So the poor lady in front of me had to consolidate her purse into a carry on bag. Once she had that cumbersome package together she was allowed to go down the jetway, where she met Bag Nazi #2. This Nazi's job was to inform people that their bags were too large to fit in the overhead bin. So all the folks who jammed their purses, cameras, laptops et cetera into a carry on bag were now confronted with having to CHECK them.
You can imagine the chaos, can't you?
My backpack escaped attention but it turned out that the overhead bins on the Airbus jet were tiny. And because I was at the end of the herd, there was no space left. I jammed my pack under the seat and gave it a good kick to make sure it escaped notice as it didn't quite fit entirely under. I need not have worried as George Clinton had bigger problems.
Well, okay, he wasn't the real George but he plays him on a tribute band, somewhere, I'm sure. So, the P-Funk wannabe has his two bags and they are big. And they of course don't fit overhead. He looks around, furtively, and sees he has no options. The flight staff, having dealt with this issue many times before, go about professionally ignoring him. The line comes to a stop as the befuddled, bedregged one is clearly lost...
Finally one flight attendent decides to take matters into her own hands and solve the situation by getting on the intercom and telling the man holding up the line to store his bags in the overhead bin or under the seat in front of him and clear the aisle so they can continue boarding, thank you! George places one bag under the seat and sits with a huff, placing his other bag on his lap, wedged between his gut and the seat in front of him. He mutters. And I'm pretty sure the word he is using is not 'funk'.
Well, I knew right away that they would not let him keep that bag on his lap which is why I was not surprised that a cute little blonde attendant soon came by, placed her hand on the his shoulder and said in a sing song voice, while not really looking at him, to place his bag under the seat so we can take off. And she walks away. Definitely not 'funk' this time.
Sensing the man was clearly a trouble maker, they finally send in the big gun - a male flight attendant from First Class. Followed by Cute Blonde, they descend upon the recalictrant Funkmeister and explain that the bag must be stored. George finally gets an audience as he explains that there is no room above or below. In a snit, the First Class dude takes his bag and tells George that they just store it up front for him.
We all collectively shake our heads.
Thursday, September 03, 2009
Crime in America
That's right, I'm going to tackle some hard truths here. A number of you are not going to like it. But, as you will soon see, the numbers back this up - it's undeniable and indisputable. Like it or lump it folks, this is the Truth and it's time to deal with it.
I think it's time we start profiling. I mean, serious, hard core profiling. There's a segment of our population that is responsible for upwards of 90% of ALL CRIME. And I'm not talking about drug dealers, prostitution and what not. I'm talking about everything - terrorism, white collar crimes, jaywalking, you name it. And it seems to me that if you know this segment is responsible, in the main, for all of your nation's woes it's high time we stop being so damned PC and DO something about it.
Think about it for a minute, 90% of all crime is committed by these folks. Think about how much safer our streets would be if we could contain them somehow. Think about how burdened our judicial system is prosecuting these criminals, how much money we spend incarcerating them or attempting to 'rehabilitate' them. It's a waste of money, that's what it is.
The only real answer, I think, is to put 'em all on a boat and ship them back to wherever they came from. I'm tired of dealing with their shit and tired of hearing about it on the news. NINETY PERCENT, people. Can you even imagine?! To hell with them. And I don't give a damn what you think about it - NOW is the time to start dealing with these right-handed people and make this country safe again.
I think it's time we start profiling. I mean, serious, hard core profiling. There's a segment of our population that is responsible for upwards of 90% of ALL CRIME. And I'm not talking about drug dealers, prostitution and what not. I'm talking about everything - terrorism, white collar crimes, jaywalking, you name it. And it seems to me that if you know this segment is responsible, in the main, for all of your nation's woes it's high time we stop being so damned PC and DO something about it.
Think about it for a minute, 90% of all crime is committed by these folks. Think about how much safer our streets would be if we could contain them somehow. Think about how burdened our judicial system is prosecuting these criminals, how much money we spend incarcerating them or attempting to 'rehabilitate' them. It's a waste of money, that's what it is.
The only real answer, I think, is to put 'em all on a boat and ship them back to wherever they came from. I'm tired of dealing with their shit and tired of hearing about it on the news. NINETY PERCENT, people. Can you even imagine?! To hell with them. And I don't give a damn what you think about it - NOW is the time to start dealing with these right-handed people and make this country safe again.
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
Nigeria
I got this email today. Yes, I know, it's spam but read it! I get these things daily and they are nothing new. The twist to this one is interesting though - normally these emails pander to your gullibility: maybe I AM the distant relative of the deceased Mayor of a small town in Botswana. It could happen, right?
This email though makes no bones about it. Sorry, dude, you are not the 'next of-kin' but if you split the money with me I'll lie to the bank and say you are! Genius. I hope this fisher takes a whole lotta people with this one - serves 'em right.
This email though makes no bones about it. Sorry, dude, you are not the 'next of-kin' but if you split the money with me I'll lie to the bank and say you are! Genius. I hope this fisher takes a whole lotta people with this one - serves 'em right.
Dear Beneficiary,
I am writing from a private mailbox, it is safe and not for official use. It was reported that you also applied to claim $20M as the Next of-Kin of late Alan Bowen. Late Alan Bowen died ten years ago in a helicopter crash and till date, many applicants have severally been attempting to claim his $20M fixed-capital investment from the bank. Due to the drastic inheritance saga observed through the internet, insurance agencies have cautioned banks to verify any beneficiary before approving inheritance payment.
As a legal partner to the bank, I was consulted to verify the applicants that have shown interest and identify the rightful Next of-Kin. From my verification, it was observed that the bonafide Next of-Kin died in the same crash with late Alan Bowen and does not exist anymore. With this observation, I have confirmed that you are not the Next of-Kin including other applicants that have shown interest to inherit this fund. I must admit my interest in this $20M therefore, I feel it is not wise to report my observations to the bank because this fund will be confiscated.
Amongst all the applicants, I find you more approachable and I have decided to negotiate with you before I report my observations to the bank. Let me validate this claim in your name on the condition that you will split this $20M 50%-50% with me. If we have a deal, I will issue you the validation Pin-code as the rightful Next of-Kin and also render my esteem support to the end. Please, get back to me for further details if my condition is agreeable.
Thanks for your understanding and I hope to read from you at your earliest convenient.
Sincerely,
Jubrill Lawal.
Accredited Legal Consultant.
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