Max: *kaff*

It seems it is once again time for the much anticipated, bi-annual cough-fest. Cough-fest is when, after all the other symptoms of my twice yearly battle with cold/respiratory flu have faded, I cough for about a month straight. I don't know what it is with me and coughing. It is like when I get a cough, my lungs suddenly become pack-rats. "You know, I don't know when I'll ever need this cough, but I might, so I am going to hang onto it for a little while longer."

During cough-fest, I can rarely manage to speak three or four words without coughing. As my job involves talking, you can imagine that this is great fun. By the time cough-fest winds down, I have generally worn out the mute button on my phone. But that is a minor annoyance compared to cough-fest's night schedule. It just as I am laying down to escape into a few hours' sleep, cough-fest is just getting started. It is like my lungs get their wires crossed and my brain's shutdown and hibernate signal comes across as a cough longer, harder and more frequently signal.

And while we are on the subject, is it too much to ask that the Pharm corps make a cough medicine that actually works for more than two hours at a time? Regardless of whether they are advertised as four, six or eight hour, they all take an hour to kick in and stop working two hours after that. It makes it hard getting a good eight hours again when I need to get up every two hours for a one hour cough break.

Oh well, only another three weeks until this should all clear up.

*kaff*

Max: Drizzle

For the past few days it has been cold and wet. It hasn't been raining so much as drizzling. It's been the slow sort of drizzle that you don't feel right away but rather soaks in slowly, wicking away all sense of warmth as it does.

It has been almost a month since I found out I am being laid off. I don't know how many resumes I have sent out, but so far I have had no response. I do have an interview tomorrow for another position with my current employer, but that is not really a response to my resume. Everybody who is getting laid off is getting interviewed for these positions. So instead of what I would have rather been doing today, I got to try on more businesslike clothes, shave my beard and get my hair cut. That pretty much killed my day but I figured I would at least have some time in the evening. It seemed fair to me. Instead I get to go show shopping with the wife and then go hang out with our "couple friends". I mean, they are cool enough people and I am sure the evening won't suck entirely. But it isn't what I wanted to do today. I have absolutely no control over my life anymore. I am being pulled in a million directions. I have ben so stressed for so long I don't even remember what calm feels like. There is so little room left for me in my life. It seems like I had a right to a few hours of my time on may day off to do something for me. My mistake.

So, I am struggling to keep a job I am going to lose, struggling to get worse job so I don't end up starving to death. And on top of that, he government is apparently of the opinion that I made $1300 too much last year are keen to rectify the overage on or before April 15. And I can't even be allowed a few fucking hours to go to the library and forget about all this shit that is closing in on me.

Sometimes being me is not entirely amusing.

Max: BBC NEWS | Lab fireball 'may be black hole'

BBC NEWS | Science/Nature | Lab fireball 'may be black hole'

"A fireball created in a US particle accelerator has the characteristics of a black hole, a physicist has said."

...

"These form a ball of plasma about 300 times hotter than the surface of the Sun. This fireball, which lasts just 10 million, billion, billionths of a second, can be detected because it absorbs jets of particles produced by the beam collisions.

But Nastase, of Brown University in Providence, Rhode Island, says there is something unusual about it.

Ten times as many jets were being absorbed by the fireball as were predicted by calculations."

...

"However, even if the ball of plasma is a black hole, it is not thought to pose a threat. At these energies and distances, gravity is not the dominant force in a black hole."

So, we created a blackhole that our calculations said we shouldn't have made, but don't worry, our calcuations say there is absolutely no danger.

Max: After Midnight

I ripped my vocal cords to shit at work. What I want more than anything is to eacape into a few hours sleep. My body has other ideas. Like coughing up green chunks of demon shit when I so much as think about lying down. So, in a few hours, after a night of no sleep, I get to drag my hamburger vocal cord back to work and rip the shit out of them again.

Shoot me.

Max: What?!?

I am sick. I have a cold/flu/respiratory infection of some sort. I get this kind of thing so often I just call it, "Fuck, not again." Right now, my vocal cords are in the process of turning themselves into finely ground hamburger. That is not a good thing when one's job requires talking. At the moment, thanks to my employer's strict sick time policy, I have all of two sick hours. And also thanks to this policy, unlike at other jobs I have had, if I call in sick for more than two hours I will not just not get paid, I will get fired. It is not that my employer is some mustache twisting villain - at least it is not just that - but rather it is that in a call center, staffing levels must be carefully seen to. Getting caught just one or two people short can throw a major wrench in the works.

However, what I do find galling is that I am going to be laid off. So basically, I am coming in here ripping my throat to shreds, dealing with hearing, "What?!? Speak up!" from the users, so I don't lose a job that I am going to lose anyway. That just about seems to define my life.

Max: CNN.com - Last-ditch bid in right-to-die case

CNN.com - Last-ditch bid in right-to-die case - Mar 18, 2005

"WASHINGTON (CNN) -- Members of Congress on Friday stepped up their efforts to keep a severely brain-damaged Florida woman alive, as a deadline neared to have the woman's feeding tube removed."

Just leave these poor people alone. It's bad enough losing one's spouse. I can't imagine having everybody else on the planet thinking it's their right to keep her body in some sort of zombie-like state, forced to fuction in some sick parody of life.

Max: Variations on a Theme

My new computer has arrived. This is my first post from my new toy. I noted in a previous post how I found it interesting that my latest computer, like my first computer, is a Compaq laptop purchased at Office Depot. I also noted some of the differences between that time and this. One of them was that when I bought my first computer I walked out of the store with it that day while this time I had to wait for this computer to be built and shipped to me.

I remember that they had some trouble finding my computer that first time. The clerks were running around the store, double and triple checking that their computers showed it was in inventory. I think it took something like 20 minuted before they finally found it. This time, I knew where my computer was the entire time. Thanks to FedEx's online tracking, I followed my computer's three day journey from China, through Alaska, to my door.

Back then, I fired up my computer without clue as to how to operate it beyond point, click and hope. I went through the startup process hoping I was setting it up right, freaking out at every setting that warned that my choice was permanent and that all other potential settings would be deleted forever. The idea that reinstalling the OS would undo any bad choices I made escaped me. Hell, it didn't escape. It never even entered the prison. This time, I sailed through the startup, which was little more than a distraction from the episode of Black Adder I was watching.

Back then, the Internet was something that required being tied to a phone line. Right now I am at work, comletely free of wires (including even the AC adapter), surfing on a WiFi connection someone was kind enough to leave open.

So, yeah, I bought the same brand of computer I had bought once before. Yes, I bought it not just from the same chain but also the exact same store I had bought that computer in the past. But I and the computing world has changed more than it has stayed the same. Thankfully. I mean, I am an idiot now. But back then...wow I was dumb. And computers and the online world weren't half as fun.

Well, back to the abuse mines. According to the person who just popped into my ear, "The damn Internet's broke again." Some things never change.

Max: Important Questions

Do fish ever get tired of being wet all the time?

Jericho: Caution: Urine Jokes, Star Wars Parody

This is almost worth the download.

Jericho: Finger Bender

So, here I am, 34 years old and I have no idea how to type. I mean, sure, I can hunt and peck like nobody's buisiness. But, when it comes right down to it, I can't type to save my life.

When I was in high school, they offered touch-typing, but I took computer programing instead. I thought it would serve me more than learning to type - besides, it was more fun! Now, seeing that I'm not programing in BASIC for a living, I wish I had just taken the darned class.

I do a heck of a lot of writing these days; here in the blog, at work and sometimes I think that if I could type faster, maybe I wouldn't be so frustrated with writing - maybe I would be doing that for a living.

So, I have come to the conclusion that this old dog is going to learn a new trick. Starting late last week, I began looking for free typing tutors on the Internet. I found a few and improvement is happening. I took a test last week and scored a whole 5 WPM. I took another tonite and I scored an 8. Well, it's a little better. Of course, I took the same test last week, using my trusty hunt & peck, I scored 29 WPM. Right now I'm TTing and it's taken nearly a half hour just to type this simple paragraph. Sigh!

Max: Greatest Headline Ever

Boeing boss flies into sex storm

We should all be so lucky.

Max: What If?

After reading my writings people often ask, "Have you considered having your medication adjusted?" After that, some will ask, "Where do you get your ideas from?" Of course, the answer is that I subscribe to a service. While I can let you know some general facts about the service, I can't go into detail. The service is invitation only. Also, they are a bit stingy with information about themselves. I know that they have been around a long time and that they investigate a potential subscribers long before they invite them join - or even let them know they exist. Once invited, one is given an extensive questionnaire about one's area of endeavor, though I suspect they already know the answers. Once the completed questionnaire is returned, one starts getting ideas in the mail. Each packet is divided into two parts. One part is ideas expressly conceived for the individual subscriber, the other is ideas rejected by other subscribers that may be of interest. I don't know if it says something about the service - or my fellow subscribers - but I find the best ideas are almost always in the latter part.

Of course the above is pure bullshit. When it comes down to it, no creative person really knows where his ideas come from. At least not completely. I know most of my ideas come, at least in part, from asking one simple question, "What if?" I look at a situation or concept and something in my brain decides to turn it on its side. "What if?" For instance, earlier tonight and for no particular reason I was thinking about the Eagles. I remember once reading that back in the 70's critics often complained that in concert the members of the band would "loiter onstage." That is, they would play their instruments and sing, but not do much else. They were musicians, not showmen. Personally, I don't care whether a band puts on an elaborate show or just plays they hell out of their songs so long as they are giving me a good show one way or the other. But for some reason, in my pointless reverie about the Eagles, I asked myself, "What if they did more than 'loiter' onstage?" Suddenly, I was laughing at pictures of hippie, country rock musicians dancing around onstage in their flannel and denim.

Okay, maybe I do need to have my medication adjusted.

Sometimes, like tonight, the answer to "What if?" leads to little more than an amusing thought. Other times, it can lead to a story. It took more than one round of "What if?" to find my way to "Untitled". It started back when Warren Ellis was hosting a web forum. At some point, the members of the forum were discussing some comic book writers who happened to subscribe some sort of pagan/wiccan religion. One person posted a comment along the lines of, "There is nothing worse than people who use some screwy religion as an excuse to indulge in excess sex and drugs." Of course he was using hyperbole when he said that there is "nothing worse". But I decided to play on it in my response. Of course the answer to "What if there was something worse than this writers religion?" is obvious. At least to me. I know many would disagree, but I generally don't lose sleep over the fact that other people view religion differently that I do. The real "What if?" was "What if I fought hyperbole with hyperbole?" From that question came what was the be the start of "Untitled". I responded, "There is nothing worse? What about having your testicles nailed to a table and then being forcibly felated by a rabid mongoose. I would think that would be worse."

Nothing much more came of that until one day I was called into my then manager's office. Up until that point, I had received nothing but glowing praise for my performance. I expected the same again. I was wrong. I was reamed for not fulfilling certain job standard that seemed to have nothing to do with my actual job - standards that I had not been previously unaware. I left his office pissed off. My anger led to "What if someone was literally reamed for failing to live up to some idiotic performance standard?" As I ran that through my mind, I remembered the post I had made at Warren Ellis's forum. I decided that it had happened to my character. Of course, that led to "What if he got some and she did not react well to his missing testicles?" The situation begged to be in some sort of sci fi situation. These events would be headline news in our world. I wanted them to be everyday occurrences in my character's world. Sci Fi and missing testicles led to the testosterone generator, the visor and most of the rest of the set dressing.

Of course this all begs the question, "Why was the whole nailed testicle and rabid mongoose thing the answer to my 'What if?' in the first place." There are any number of ways to shock, to exaggerate. Why that? While your friendly neighborhood Freudian might have an answer, I don't. All I really know is that sometimes I look at a situation and my mind decides to twist it around. Maybe it is a form of mental illness - a controlled schizophrenia. Lord know that when I really get into a story, it becomes way more real that what is going on around me.

All I know is, when it comes down to it, I don't know.

Max: Full Circle

At one time in my life I did not care for computers. I was introduced to them back in the 80's when the Internet was just for government and universities. It seemed like the only things they were good for were games - which I did enjoy on occasion - or for word processing - which they did not do well back then.

Then came the early 90's and the beginning of the public use of the Internet and other computer networks, along with a massive improvement in word processors. I decided I wanted a computer. Specifically I wanted a laptop so that I could take it will me to classes, so that I could work on papers and other writings where I wanted and so that I could download pictures of nekkid people. So after about ten minutes of in depth research that mainly involved paging through a computer magazine sitting at my mother's office, I headed out to Office Depot to buy my first real computer. It was a Compaq. I could not tell you what model it was. I do recall that it ran Windows 3.1 and had 4 mg of RAM, a 20 mg hard drive and a super fast 2400 bit per second modem. I am not sure what exactly became of that computer. I know that I gave it up sometime around 96 when my parents bought a Win 95 desktop.

From about 96 to 2000 I was a desktop guy. First my family's 95 desktop, then the 98 - later 2K - desktop I built for me and the Mrs. when we got married (which is still running strong, thank you). In early 2000 I took some tech classes. Included in the tuition for these classes is the Gateway Solo 2550 on which I am composing this post. It has 128 MG of RAM and a 6 gig hard drive. At the time, it was pretty beefed. In it's time it has run Windows NT, 98, 2K and XP depending on my mood. It even ran Linux briefly, but I couldn't get X Windows to load. I love the CLI, but need my GUI. When I was in those classes I used this computer mainly for class work. Dialing up was done on the desktop. After the classes were over, this computer tended to gather dust except when I felt like computing in another room. It was promoted back to main computer status when we bought our first house. The desktop was in the living room. But I had found that the dial-up was faster and more stable on our sun porch. So I set this puppy up and did most of my computing out there. It only briefly fell back out of favor between the time we got DSL and the time we got our wireless router. Since setting up my network, I have rarely used the desktop.

I always fantasize about getting new and interesting home electronics - especially when it comes to computers. I would lust after Powerbooks or custom built Linux laptops. I would drop by the online Apple Store or some other manufacturer's site and put together over-the-top computers that would require lotto money to finance. But, back in the real world, I tried my best to be satisfied with what I have. This computer has served me well for over half a decade. That said, as time goes on, it has started showing its age. As I put more and more demands on it, its meager resources were tapping out, leaving me locked out for minutes at a time as it tried to negotiate the tasks I set before it. On top of that, its decreasingly sufficient hard drive forced me to constantly uninstall software or transfer files to the desktop. Regardless, I had little choice but to deal with it. That is until fate and the MO State unclaimed property website - along with a check from the insurance company for the hand Laura broke in a car accident and some parent-in-law generosity - smiled on me and brought a new computer into the realm of possibility. It was not going to be one of the dream machines I would design at manufacturers web sites, but it would certainly be an improvement.

We hit a speed bump when I got found out I was to be laid off. Suddenly our influx of cash was looking more like a cushion against potential poverty than a chance to treat ourselves to some of the things we had denied ourselves. It was looking like this little old computer was to stick with me a while longer. Then fate once again stepped in. Or perhaps my loyal computer decided to throw itself on its sword for its master. Either way, I have started getting some hard disk errors. They could prove to be nothing, or they could blow up and leave me computerless. As a professional geek I cannot be without a computer. Given how much Laura depends on the desktop, it was not a candidate to go through the Max torture test that I need to put a computer through. So, necessity has led me to purchasing my first new computer in over 5 years.

After some in depth research that involved hours surfing manufacturers sites and online reviews and a day going from store to store looking for the best price, I went to my local Office Depot and bought myself a Compaq laptop. Of course this one has 512 mg of RAM, a 60 gig hard drive and built in wireless. And back in 199whatever I walked out of the store with my computer, while my new one is going to be built and shipped to me. Interesting none-the-less. Or maybe not.

Now if I can only get an iPod.