Merry Christmas to All, and Chocolate Chip Cookies in the Morning

Merry Christmas one and all. It'll be merrier for us when we can get the boy to sleep and shut off the lights. At this hotel. That we ended up in when the snow made it so I couldn't see the road any longer.

In all of the years we've been coming up for Christmas, this was the worst snow storm yet. My folks live less than 20 miles from here, but it's a 2-lane road between here and there, and tonight that would have meant 2+ hours of tense driving. So, we're at the Country Inn of Kenosha for the night, hunkered down with the dog, the baby, and my mother-in-law. At least they had rooms with two beds.

I'm not even complaining, actually. It would have been many more hours of tension had she pressed on and driven all the way home. We would not have slept. As it stands, we spent a little extra money, but we're safe and warm, have a cooler full of vegetables and dip (and beer!), and plenty of cable channels. Oh, and wi-fi, so the ladies can watch the Hallmark channel as I type this.

Pretty interesting first Christmas for Eli, I suppose.

Merry Christmas!

A Test to End the Speculation

Truth is, beating the Patriots wouldn't be nearly as important as beating the Lions was last week. Where standings and playoffs are concerned, beating their divisional rivals is just a fraction more weighty than a random win. And so, while beating the Patriots might fire the Bears up to the top 3 in power rankings, they still need to dominate the Vikings in the following week, and also face the Packers for the last game of the season.

Interestingly, if the Bears and the Packers continue to win, that last game might be for the division. Can you imagine a more storybook way to enter the post-season?

On a side note, beating the Patriots would be great, but if we end up going all the way and ultimately face them in the Super Bowl, it might end up working against us. As the Jets now know, Tom Brady's ability to put a whole team on his back puts Urlacher's resolve to shame. On the other hand, I can't imagine Urlacher getting all the way to the end just to lose again.

Alas, I've gotten way ahead of myself. There are four of the top teams in the league in the way of a playoff berth. A more likely scenario is, like the 90-win White Sox of a few years ago, a better-than-expected regular season and a freezeout come playoff time.

I'd love it if they bucked the trend...

More Crow to Eat and I'm Getting Full

Before the season started, I was concerned that we got a last-minute offensive coach who could either propel the offense or crash and burn (my money was on the latter given the lack of a superstar receiver). Offensive line coach was the same guy who allowed the "Love Boat" scandal in MN on his watch. Defensive coordinator went 0 or 16 in Detroit. The players were the element I didn't credit enough. Regardless of how they finish out the year, they've outplayed my expectations.

The first four games were wins, but I felt like there was a lot of luck involved, and the Bears showed zero consistency. Cutler was getting pounded and the running game looked improved, but the offensive line seemed to be different week by week.

The next three games were more what I expected. The Giants are a great team, but I didn't expect to see Cutler get pounded like he did. Maybe that was the wake-up call. The other losses should have been wins, but you can't win 'em all (especially with a third-string QB).

Now, we're on a four-game win streak, and the last two (at least) were decisive wins. Impressive wins, really. They got over the night game thing and won against a top-tier team yesterday. I'd love to see the history of their power rankings since week one. It would have to be all over the board.

All of this said, I have noticed in recent weeks that the Bears team now is a lot like the Bears team from 2005/2006. The defense is steady and formidable. The offense is functional with a good running game as the anchor. Hester looks like he can run one back for 6 points on any given kickoff.

I'm happy to eat this crow, but before I get all excited and start making bold predictions, I'm interested to see if they put the Lions away again. There's no reason why they should lose this one.

GO BEARS!

What's Wrong With The Bears?

Exactly what everyone predicted. The offensive line is pretty bad, the receivers show promise on occasion but aren't savvy enough to fight for a badly thrown ball, and Cutler is clearly not enjoying the Mike Martz offensive scheme.

The worst part of the messy, sloppy game against Washington was seeing Rex Grossman on the opposing sideline. He could have gotten sacked and thrown interceptions just as well as Cutler. He had similar streaks of brilliance followed by record-setting bed wetting. Who could blame either of them when they both have been crushed by an uncontested blitzer on multiple occasions?

After the 4-0 start, I was thinking we might be looking at a repeat of the Super Bowl season where the defense shut down opposing offenses and the QB started out red hot, then settled down and let the running game do the heavy lifting. In fact, when Grossman started looking like a full-on bust, Thomas Jones really came to life.

I was prepared to eat crow and admit to being wrong about Lovie, Martz, Tice, and Marinelli. I hate that they're making me right again. Actually, I'll even take Marinelli off the hot seat for the moment since the defense is currently ranked 5th in the league; very similar to '05.

Unlike '05, the offense is ranked 30th overall. Terrible. The other similarity, but even more pronounced, is the feeling that even if the defense steamrolls every team left on the schedule, we could still lose all of those games. And while I won't turn into a fan who roots for his team to lose, I might pay more attention to the Steelers or something while I wait for the Lovie Smith/Jerry Angelo era to finally come to an end.

If you're on Twitter, I recommend checking out the following feeds for up-to-the-minute Bears info:
Zach Zaidman
Peggy Kuszinski
Adam Schefter
Chris Harris

A Bad Omen

We've been ruminating that the little Bears shirt Eli has worn on the days when the Bears won was their lucky charm. Yesterday, at lunch, my mom handed the boy to my wife, and in the transition, I noticed a brown stain forming on the back of his shirt - just about where the top of the diaper would be. Yep - he shit his lucky shirt, and then the Bears shit the bed.

Ignoring the rest of the game, the rest of the day went pretty well. We had a few great meals, saw a lot of our extended family, and I somehow still lost four pounds. Not bad.

Tools Tools Tools

So, I just got a new computer, and trying to remember all of the software that I use on a regular basis (mostly free, open-sourced packages) was daunting. Then I remembered that I have created my own personal software installer over at Ninite.com.

Here's the link. (It should ask you to download the file.)

I went to their site, selected all of the freeware I use from their lists, then they assembled the file linked above. That file opens an installer which determines the best version of each software package for your particular operating system.

My file contains the stuff I use regularly:

7zip (zip utility)
Audacity (WAV recorder/editor)
Auslogics (better defragger)
Avast (excellent antivirus)
Ccleaner (cleans browser cache, registry, startup processes, etc.)
CDBurnerXP (burns audio, data, ISO, DVD, etc.)
Chrome (quick browser)
Dropbox (file sync tool)
Filezilla (FTP client)
Firefox (complete browser)
Foxit (PDF reader)
GIMP (image editor)
Irfanview (image converter)
MediaMonkey (media player)
OpenOffice (MS Office replacement - saves as PDF!)
Picasa (photo organizer, basic editor)
Skype (video calling)
Steam (game aggregator/ gaming friend tracker)
Thunderbird (email client)
uTorrent (torrent client)

Notable omission is an instant messaging client. I use Meebo inside of Firefox because it runs over HTTP, which means the IM traffic looks like normal web traffic to my corporate firewall. It also allows me to be online in my Yahoo, Gtalk, jabber, facebook, and other clients at the same time. I'm pretty surprised Meebo hasn't either gotten super popular or killed, since that's what happens to the stuff I love.

The Plan is in Effect

So far this morning, I have eaten 1 banana and twelve almonds. I have a piece of mahi mahi that's the size of a deck of cards, a container of greek yogurt, and a bunch of mini carrots for later.

I started out by doing a mile and a half on the treadmill. It was harder than it has been before and I'm a little embarrassed. I need to take some before pictures this evening to mark the worst shape I've been in for the past 40 years. I'm hoping to see some tangible results by Christmas.

To reiterate, the plan is to lose 40 lbs. this year. Doesn't have to happen right away, and I want to do it so that it stays off, not just to say I did it. So, I'm going to start out by kind of shocking my system with a lean, healthy diet and more exercise each day.

If you see me in a dark alley with a box of day-old donuts - stop me!

Read This Tomorrow

This article in the New Yorker actually describes the feeling I've had for most of my life. I've often wondered if I have ADHD (ADD) but never pressed it with a doctor for a diagnosis. I have put off assignments or work until the last minute for as long as I can remember. Trying to do stuff ahead of the deadline is like trying to push my car up a hill - it's just not possible.

Maybe it's not such abnormal behavior after all. On the other hand, maybe science is an enabler. If I choose the articles properly, I'm healthy being fat, I'm a genius because I keep piles of stuff everywhere, and now I'm learning that procrastinating has been a "live for today" response to stuff I don't want to do.

Go science!

On Being a Father

It's a little surreal. I have always had it in mind that I'd like to have a child at some point, but that's been a little thought in the back of my mind. Now he's here. Even after we knew he was a boy and we'd seen a few ultrasound images of him, I never had an idea in my mind of what he'd look like. Now I can look at him.


Sometimes when I do look at him I just don't believe it. There he is. 20 years of adulthood (give or take) and 10+ years of marriage to his mother, a bit of difficulty, and then nine months of preparing, and there he is, sleeping.

Things more experienced folks would tell me about fatherhood have, mostly, come true - but not exactly as expected. The lack of sleep everyone talks about - it's real, but it's not that big of a deal. I was concerned that I'd turn into a zombie by the second week, but instead, we got into a bit of a rhythm. People said my life would no longer be my own - it would be all about the boy. That's also mostly true, but it's not this wrestling match to get my old life back. We make small adjustments and we can do pretty much exactly what we had always been doing.



The biggest thing I learned when we got Nina (our dog) was that it wasn't all about training her; the best success came when I figured out how to adjust my way of thinking a bit, too. Now if I could just understand why she thinks dirty diapers are delicious...

Elias John

First, a picture:


This was taken last week as he was speeding toward a recovery from jaundice. Higher bilirubin levels in newborns are pretty common but it's still disconcerting when you've fought for nine months (or more) to bring this baby into the world and it's not 100% text book. That hose connected to a flat fiber optic light "jacket" that wrapped around his torso and delivered a wavelength of light that assists in the dispersion of bilirubin. Irony is that I write about fiber optic equipment every day.

This kid showed up two weeks ahead of his due date and was still 8 pounds, 11 ounces at 21 inches. Not bad. In the following two weeks, he's clearly found his lungs and a taste for milk (or formula - he's not that picky). He clearly is more easily comforted by his mom than by me, but that's fine.

Either way, we hoped and prayed for a healthy baby, and as of today, that's just what we got.

St. Vincent (Redux)

Here's another live version of this fantastic song:


And if that didn't do it for you, check this shit out:


HOT damn - that's a lot of sound from two horns and a guit-fiddle.

DJ Format + Chali2na

I got to this party late, but better late than never. If you liked De La Soul back in the day, Tribe Called Quest, Pharcyde, Handsome Boy Modeling School, Gorillaz, etc. - you'll dig Format.

My Literary Friends

My friend John Porcellino has been making comics for a long time. His King Cat series was in full swing by the time we lived together in 1989 and it's still running today. He posted that his book "Thoreau at Walden" was on super sale for under $5 on Amazon, so I jumped. It's pretty fantastic.

Another friend competed on the Bravo show "Work of Art" and won the competition that had the artists design a book cover. His interpretation of The Time Machine not only won on the show, but was published by Penguin on the H.G. Wells classic. Got that from Amazon, too. His cover reminds me of the books from the 70s. There are elements of ethereal, surreal, and fantastic, and I'm excited that he won. (He shouldn't have been booted from the show the next week, but that's grist for a different post, I suppose.)

DeKalb, IL once again the epicenter of the universe.

2BR02B (by Kurt Vonnegut)

I'm clearly not making any money on this (don't be fooled by the ads - I haven't seen a cent.) According to the preamble and the site where I found this, there's no copyright attributed. However, if that's mistaken or changed, please let me know and I'll delete the post. Many thanks to Project Gutenberg for making this text available.

And now for some legalese (in red) followed by the short story itself:

The Project Gutenberg EBook of 2 B R 0 2 B, by Kurt Vonnegut

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or

re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

Title: 2 B R 0 2 B

Author: Kurt Vonnegut

Release Date: May 3, 2007 [EBook #21279]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 2 B R 0 2 B ***

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2_B_R_0_2_B

By
Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.


Transcriber note: This etext was produced from Worlds of If, January 1962.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on
this publication was renewed.




Got a problem? Just pick up the phone.
It solved them all--and all the same way!


2
B
R
0
2
B


by KURT VONNEGUT, JR.




Everything was perfectly swell.

There were no prisons, no slums, no insane asylums, no cripples, no
poverty, no wars.

All diseases were conquered. So was old age.

Death, barring accidents, was an adventure for volunteers.

The population of the United States was stabilized at forty-million
souls.

One bright morning in the Chicago Lying-in Hospital, a man named Edward
K. Wehling, Jr., waited for his wife to give birth. He was the only man
waiting. Not many people were born a day any more.

Wehling was fifty-six, a mere stripling in a population whose average
age was one hundred and twenty-nine.

X-rays had revealed that his wife was going to have triplets. The
children would be his first.

Young Wehling was hunched in his chair, his head in his hand. He was so
rumpled, so still and colorless as to be virtually invisible. His
camouflage was perfect, since the waiting room had a disorderly and
demoralized air, too. Chairs and ashtrays had been moved away from the
walls. The floor was paved with spattered dropcloths.

The room was being redecorated. It was being redecorated as a memorial
to a man who had volunteered to die.

A sardonic old man, about two hundred years old, sat on a stepladder,
painting a mural he did not like. Back in the days when people aged
visibly, his age would have been guessed at thirty-five or so. Aging had
touched him that much before the cure for aging was found.

The mural he was working on depicted a very neat garden. Men and women
in white, doctors and nurses, turned the soil, planted seedlings,
sprayed bugs, spread fertilizer.

Men and women in purple uniforms pulled up weeds, cut down plants that
were old and sickly, raked leaves, carried refuse to trash-burners.

Never, never, never--not even in medieval Holland nor old Japan--had a
garden been more formal, been better tended. Every plant had all the
loam, light, water, air and nourishment it could use.

A hospital orderly came down the corridor, singing under his breath a
popular song:

If you don't like my kisses, honey,
Here's what I will do:
I'll go see a girl in purple,
Kiss this sad world toodle-oo.
If you don't want my lovin',
Why should I take up all this space?
I'll get off this old planet,
Let some sweet baby have my place.

The orderly looked in at the mural and the muralist. "Looks so real,"
he said, "I can practically imagine I'm standing in the middle of it."

"What makes you think you're not in it?" said the painter. He gave a
satiric smile. "It's called 'The Happy Garden of Life,' you know."

"That's good of Dr. Hitz," said the orderly.

* * * * *

He was referring to one of the male figures in white, whose head was a
portrait of Dr. Benjamin Hitz, the hospital's Chief Obstetrician. Hitz
was a blindingly handsome man.

"Lot of faces still to fill in," said the orderly. He meant that the
faces of many of the figures in the mural were still blank. All blanks
were to be filled with portraits of important people on either the
hospital staff or from the Chicago Office of the Federal Bureau of
Termination.

"Must be nice to be able to make pictures that look like something,"
said the orderly.

The painter's face curdled with scorn. "You think I'm proud of this
daub?" he said. "You think this is my idea of what life really looks
like?"

"What's your idea of what life looks like?" said the orderly.

The painter gestured at a foul dropcloth. "There's a good picture of
it," he said. "Frame that, and you'll have a picture a damn sight more
honest than this one."

"You're a gloomy old duck, aren't you?" said the orderly.

"Is that a crime?" said the painter.

The orderly shrugged. "If you don't like it here, Grandpa--" he said,
and he finished the thought with the trick telephone number that people
who didn't want to live any more were supposed to call. The zero in the
telephone number he pronounced "naught."

The number was: "2 B R 0 2 B."

It was the telephone number of an institution whose fanciful sobriquets
included: "Automat," "Birdland," "Cannery," "Catbox," "De-louser,"
"Easy-go," "Good-by, Mother," "Happy Hooligan," "Kiss-me-quick," "Lucky
Pierre," "Sheepdip," "Waring Blendor," "Weep-no-more" and "Why Worry?"

"To be or not to be" was the telephone number of the municipal gas
chambers of the Federal Bureau of Termination.

* * * * *

The painter thumbed his nose at the orderly. "When I decide it's time to
go," he said, "it won't be at the Sheepdip."

"A do-it-yourselfer, eh?" said the orderly. "Messy business, Grandpa.
Why don't you have a little consideration for the people who have to
clean up after you?"

The painter expressed with an obscenity his lack of concern for the
tribulations of his survivors. "The world could do with a good deal more
mess, if you ask me," he said.

The orderly laughed and moved on.

Wehling, the waiting father, mumbled something without raising his head.
And then he fell silent again.

A coarse, formidable woman strode into the waiting room on spike heels.
Her shoes, stockings, trench coat, bag and overseas cap were all purple,
the purple the painter called "the color of grapes on Judgment Day."

The medallion on her purple musette bag was the seal of the Service
Division of the Federal Bureau of Termination, an eagle perched on a
turnstile.

The woman had a lot of facial hair--an unmistakable mustache, in fact. A
curious thing about gas-chamber hostesses was that, no matter how lovely
and feminine they were when recruited, they all sprouted mustaches
within five years or so.

"Is this where I'm supposed to come?" she said to the painter.

"A lot would depend on what your business was," he said. "You aren't
about to have a baby, are you?"

"They told me I was supposed to pose for some picture," she said. "My
name's Leora Duncan." She waited.

"And you dunk people," he said.

"What?" she said.

"Skip it," he said.

"That sure is a beautiful picture," she said. "Looks just like heaven or
something."

"Or something," said the painter. He took a list of names from his smock
pocket. "Duncan, Duncan, Duncan," he said, scanning the list. "Yes--here
you are. You're entitled to be immortalized. See any faceless body here
you'd like me to stick your head on? We've got a few choice ones left."

She studied the mural bleakly. "Gee," she said, "they're all the same to
me. I don't know anything about art."

"A body's a body, eh?" he said, "All righty. As a master of fine art, I
recommend this body here." He indicated a faceless figure of a woman who
was carrying dried stalks to a trash-burner.

"Well," said Leora Duncan, "that's more the disposal people, isn't it? I
mean, I'm in service. I don't do any disposing."

The painter clapped his hands in mock delight. "You say you don't know
anything about art, and then you prove in the next breath that you know
more about it than I do! Of course the sheave-carrier is wrong for a
hostess! A snipper, a pruner--that's more your line." He pointed to a
figure in purple who was sawing a dead branch from an apple tree. "How
about her?" he said. "You like her at all?"

"Gosh--" she said, and she blushed and became humble--"that--that puts
me right next to Dr. Hitz."

"That upsets you?" he said.

"Good gravy, no!" she said. "It's--it's just such an honor."

"Ah, You admire him, eh?" he said.

"Who doesn't admire him?" she said, worshiping the portrait of Hitz. It
was the portrait of a tanned, white-haired, omnipotent Zeus, two hundred
and forty years old. "Who doesn't admire him?" she said again. "He was
responsible for setting up the very first gas chamber in Chicago."

"Nothing would please me more," said the painter, "than to put you next
to him for all time. Sawing off a limb--that strikes you as
appropriate?"

"That is kind of like what I do," she said. She was demure about what
she did. What she did was make people comfortable while she killed them.

* * * * *

And, while Leora Duncan was posing for her portrait, into the
waitingroom bounded Dr. Hitz himself. He was seven feet tall, and he
boomed with importance, accomplishments, and the joy of living.

"Well, Miss Duncan! Miss Duncan!" he said, and he made a joke. "What
are you doing here?" he said. "This isn't where the people leave. This
is where they come in!"

"We're going to be in the same picture together," she said shyly.

"Good!" said Dr. Hitz heartily. "And, say, isn't that some picture?"

"I sure am honored to be in it with you," she said.

"Let me tell you," he said, "I'm honored to be in it with you. Without
women like you, this wonderful world we've got wouldn't be possible."

He saluted her and moved toward the door that led to the delivery rooms.
"Guess what was just born," he said.

"I can't," she said.

"Triplets!" he said.

"Triplets!" she said. She was exclaiming over the legal implications of
triplets.

The law said that no newborn child could survive unless the parents of
the child could find someone who would volunteer to die. Triplets, if
they were all to live, called for three volunteers.

"Do the parents have three volunteers?" said Leora Duncan.

"Last I heard," said Dr. Hitz, "they had one, and were trying to scrape
another two up."

"I don't think they made it," she said. "Nobody made three appointments
with us. Nothing but singles going through today, unless somebody
called in after I left. What's the name?"

"Wehling," said the waiting father, sitting up, red-eyed and frowzy.
"Edward K. Wehling, Jr., is the name of the happy father-to-be."

He raised his right hand, looked at a spot on the wall, gave a hoarsely
wretched chuckle. "Present," he said.

"Oh, Mr. Wehling," said Dr. Hitz, "I didn't see you."

"The invisible man," said Wehling.

"They just phoned me that your triplets have been born," said Dr. Hitz.
"They're all fine, and so is the mother. I'm on my way in to see them
now."

"Hooray," said Wehling emptily.

"You don't sound very happy," said Dr. Hitz.

"What man in my shoes wouldn't be happy?" said Wehling. He gestured with
his hands to symbolize care-free simplicity. "All I have to do is pick
out which one of the triplets is going to live, then deliver my maternal
grandfather to the Happy Hooligan, and come back here with a receipt."

* * * * *

Dr. Hitz became rather severe with Wehling, towered over him. "You don't
believe in population control, Mr. Wehling?" he said.

"I think it's perfectly keen," said Wehling tautly.

"Would you like to go back to the good old days, when the population of
the Earth was twenty billion--about to become forty billion, then eighty
billion, then one hundred and sixty billion? Do you know what a drupelet
is, Mr. Wehling?" said Hitz.

"Nope," said Wehling sulkily.

"A drupelet, Mr. Wehling, is one of the little knobs, one of the little
pulpy grains of a blackberry," said Dr. Hitz. "Without population
control, human beings would now be packed on this surface of this old
planet like drupelets on a blackberry! Think of it!"

Wehling continued to stare at the same spot on the wall.

"In the year 2000," said Dr. Hitz, "before scientists stepped in and
laid down the law, there wasn't even enough drinking water to go around,
and nothing to eat but sea-weed--and still people insisted on their
right to reproduce like jackrabbits. And their right, if possible, to
live forever."

"I want those kids," said Wehling quietly. "I want all three of them."

"Of course you do," said Dr. Hitz. "That's only human."

"I don't want my grandfather to die, either," said Wehling.

"Nobody's really happy about taking a close relative to the Catbox,"
said Dr. Hitz gently, sympathetically.

"I wish people wouldn't call it that," said Leora Duncan.

"What?" said Dr. Hitz.

"I wish people wouldn't call it 'the Catbox,' and things like that," she
said. "It gives people the wrong impression."

"You're absolutely right," said Dr. Hitz. "Forgive me." He corrected
himself, gave the municipal gas chambers their official title, a title
no one ever used in conversation. "I should have said, 'Ethical Suicide
Studios,'" he said.

"That sounds so much better," said Leora Duncan.

"This child of yours--whichever one you decide to keep, Mr. Wehling,"
said Dr. Hitz. "He or she is going to live on a happy, roomy, clean,
rich planet, thanks to population control. In a garden like that mural
there." He shook his head. "Two centuries ago, when I was a young man,
it was a hell that nobody thought could last another twenty years. Now
centuries of peace and plenty stretch before us as far as the
imagination cares to travel."

He smiled luminously.

The smile faded as he saw that Wehling had just drawn a revolver.

Wehling shot Dr. Hitz dead. "There's room for one--a great big one," he
said.

And then he shot Leora Duncan. "It's only death," he said to her as she
fell. "There! Room for two."

And then he shot himself, making room for all three of his children.

Nobody came running. Nobody, seemingly, heard the shots.

The painter sat on the top of his stepladder, looking down reflectively
on the sorry scene.

* * * * *

The painter pondered the mournful puzzle of life demanding to be born
and, once born, demanding to be fruitful ... to multiply and to live as
long as possible--to do all that on a very small planet that would have
to last forever.

All the answers that the painter could think of were grim. Even grimmer,
surely, than a Catbox, a Happy Hooligan, an Easy Go. He thought of war.
He thought of plague. He thought of starvation.

He knew that he would never paint again. He let his paintbrush fall to
the dropcloths below. And then he decided he had had about enough of
life in the Happy Garden of Life, too, and he came slowly down from the
ladder.

He took Wehling's pistol, really intending to shoot himself.

But he didn't have the nerve.

And then he saw the telephone booth in the corner of the room. He went
to it, dialed the well-remembered number: "2 B R 0 2 B."

"Federal Bureau of Termination," said the very warm voice of a hostess.

"How soon could I get an appointment?" he asked, speaking very
carefully.

"We could probably fit you in late this afternoon, sir," she said. "It
might even be earlier, if we get a cancellation."

"All right," said the painter, "fit me in, if you please." And he gave
her his name, spelling it out.

"Thank you, sir," said the hostess. "Your city thanks you; your country
thanks you; your planet thanks you. But the deepest thanks of all is
from future generations."


END

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40 @ 40 Plan

It's no secret that I've been overweight for a while now. Every doctor visit or health screening confirms that I am teetering on the brink of diabetes or heart disease or some other disorder caused by carrying more weight than necessary. More significantly, I don't like how I look. As shallow or vain as that might sound, it's important to me to present the person I feel like to the rest of the world.

Therein lies the rub - I feel great. I mean, I used to be able to run indefinitely when I weighed 140 pounds, and I could ride my bike for a whole day without feeling fatigue. I still feel good just sitting at my desk, but it's hard climbing stairs or jogging. Not to mention how much I sweat. This belly fat is a great insulator, so I don't get cold very easily (good in winter months) but it also means I have a bigger challenge releasing heat (terrible in the summer).

I don't have any other health issues or concerns, so with our son nearly here, I figure it's a good time to make some corrections so that I don't get caught off guard in my complacency. I recognize that I don't eat properly and I don't exercise nearly enough. If I could find a way to shave off some stress, I'd work on that, too.

The plan will be to end desserts with my 40th birthday cake for nearly a year. If I lose the 40, I'll partake in my son's first birthday cake. I may join Weight Watchers so that I can get into the habit of keeping track of how much I'm eating, and of which foods. The online tools might be just the thing to keep me engaged.

I'll also need to put some kind of device in place that I can easily remember and do to facilitate exercise. Maybe I can't check e-mail or watch television until I've elevated my heart rate to a certain level for a certain amount of time. Maybe I take Nina (and the boy?) for a walk every morning before I do anything else.

This will be a challenge with a newborn, but I really need to make a change. I'd like to fit better in some of my existing clothes, and I definitely want to be able to run around with my son when he's ready. 40 pounds might sound radical, but it'll take me just south of 200 pounds, and at my height I'm supposed to be around 170 (according to the CDC Body Mass Index).

Wish me luck getting started in October!

LeBromination

Weak title, I know.

My assumption is that the three big signings (Wade, Bosh, James) were ultimately a result of that initial meeting they had some time ago. My guess is that they took the turnaround in Boston as a blueprint, but I think they missed a few things.

1. Pierce was languishing in Boston. They were bad and he was a superstar. He could have pressed to get traded, but ultimately worked with the team and got the help he needed. Had he left, that story would have never happened, and it's a fairy tale. He'll be remembered - not just in Boston - as a great player and a loyal man. Had LeBron stayed for another year in Cleveland, got the help, and started winning there, he'd be even more of a folk hero than he thinks he is now. Instead, he's after that one ring to make sure people recognize that he's not just flashy.

2. If one of the big three in Miami doesn't perform up to expectations (or there's an injury), they're not much better than Cleveland or Miami was last year; which is not as good as Boston.

3. Miami has plenty of stars already. Chicago is more like a big Cleveland.

4. To win a ring, I understand moving to Miami to play with Wade and Bosh. That could have happened with the Bulls just as easily, with a much clearer power structure, and he immediately would have had a humongous fan base. One that launched Michael Jordan into an international brand. One that flooded the lake front six times after championships.

5. Kobe didn't retire.

6. Michael had Scotty, but beyond that, he would have won titles on sheer force of will. I don't think LeBron has that, and I don't know if Wade has the same venom since he already got his. That essentially leaves Bosh to drive. Can you imagine Michael, Scotty, and Horace vs. the top 3 in the current league? No contest.

As it stands right now, I guess I'd acquiesce that Boston and Miami are the two Eastern teams to watch this year. Chicago might still be in the picture for the playoffs, but without another significant signing, I'm not sure how far they can go.

It's Important to Reflect

Barack Obama has been in office less than two years, and he's gotten a lot done. He doesn't spend lots time talking about what put us in the position we're in or placing blame - he acts quickly and decisively. Most of his actions appear to be in the best interest of the economy, the environment, or the people. I can understand some of the criticism of some of his ideas, but nobody is right all of the time.

The thing that kind of sailed under the radar is the fact that all of the money that was allocated to banks to keep them from tanking has been repaid with interest. It doesn't seem like that could possibly be correct - one year was all it took to keep the entire economy from collapsing and for the banks to fully recover? Seems that it is mostly true.

You might contend that the health reform bill is weak and doesn't really get the job done. Well, it's something, and it can be improved upon now that the most important threshold has been breached. He's done tons of other things that have similarly gone unnoticed. Rachel Maddow lists a bunch here:

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Day Thirty (of 30) Crapped Out

Well, I owe anyone still paying attention to this thing a couple of posts. I got 27 days in before work got out of control and took over my life. Timing sucked, too, seeing as they postponed the deadline I struggled to meet. On the plus side, I have a four-day weekend to use to craft some excellent posts. Or something. Probably mow the lawn.

Cheers, all. Have a good summer!

Day Twenty-Six (of 30) Cop Out

I'm running out of new and unique topics, and I've gotten behind on this project over this weekend. It's been a busy week, and with a deadline at work on Wednesday, it's not about to slow down. So, what can I discuss that's new? A ha!

Blogger. This blog is published on Blogger, formerly known as Blogspot, and now owned and operated by Google. I am constantly impressed that they can continue to offer the tool for free considering that they are still regularly updating the functionality. The most recent update adds new backgrounds and themes, so you can more easily update or customize the look of your blog.

Did you know that you can post to a Blogger blog from a normal cell phone? It's true. You can also add contributors with limited permissions, and the list of "gadgets" continues to grow. If you start to build a list of followers, you could convert that readership into some money by using Google AdSense. You can even stylize the ads to work seamlessly into your blog design.

I have a WordPress account and have built web sites in HTML and using various tools, but Blogger is, by far, the easiest and most robust tool I've found. Build your own!

Day Twenty-Five (of 30) Clockhammer

Back in 1991, I worked at a small, independent record store in DeKalb, IL known as Record Revolution. It was a great time to work in a record store; so many bands released seminal records that year. I mean, Metallica put out their Black Album, Nirvana released Nevermind, My Bloody Valentine launched their masterpiece Loveless, and the list goes on.

That record store moved from a smaller strip mall spot to a larger one, and while we were moving bins, I found a Clockhammer CD (Klinefelter) promo under one of them. Literally slipped through the cracks. My first run-through had me scratching my head. Were they rock? Alternative? Jazz? This smooth-yet-frequently-heavy power trio from Nashville didn't fit into any of the genres of the day.

Well, they're still in my regular rotation after all these years. Maybe fitting a genre isn't as important as just making the music in your head.

Here are a couple of samples of their songs:



And a link to a site where their final album is available for download:
http://p-l-m.blogspot.com/2006/10/clockhammer-so-much-for-you-1994.html

Enjoy!

Day Twenty-Four (of 30) Moms (A Tribute)

This is another sad day. The second sad day in a week for me. Last Friday, I visited my old friend Dave at his mother's wake. I hadn't seen him in 20 years, and it felt like no time had passed at all. Except, of course, for the realization that it did, and we were at his mother's wake.

I remembered her from my formative days. His mom made Kool-Aid and pizza for us on our day-long bike excursions. She watched out for him, she watched out for me, and I found out at the funeral home, she watched out for pretty much everyone she knew. All around, she was one of the nicest people I've ever met.

This evening, I will attend another wake, memorializing my friend Devin's mom. Devin is a current and ongoing friend and I've known his mom for a long time, now. She was his biggest groupie, that's for sure. She was another force of good in the world, also gone too soon.

I have seen people struggle with life and make things harder for themselves, but that doesn't describe Nancy. Maybe before I met her that was the case (don't know), but her kids were all grown up by the time she came to the first Magnificent Ambersons gig (and screamed for a guitar solo) with me in the band. She was always, always nice to me. And she was ebullient at Rachael's wedding:


Overall, Dave and Devin were very lucky to have had the mothers they did for so many years. On the eve of a fairly significant birthday, I consider myself very, very lucky, too.

Hi, mom.

Day Twenty-Three (of 30) Dr. Demento!

While I was never a hard-core, regular listener, I have been aware of the good Dr. throughout the years. I was, in fact, aware that he launched Weird Al Yankovic. I remember Barnes and Barnes quite vividly, and I remember when Steve Dahl (local DJ) got some national play thanks to Herr Demento.

I also know that radio is in the middle of a terrible shift toward lowest common denominator music and talk - stuff that will people tuned in, but for the least amount of money. Talent is irrelevant for a disc jockey these days; most music is pre-programmed and most stations are owned by the same companies that press the records/CDs/MP3s. Imagine the uproar over payola. How quaint.

I did not know that Dr. Demento's real name is Barret Hansen, or that his radio show started the year I was born. I am saddened to hear that he's leaving the air waves. Here's what has happened in his words:

"Stations that call themselves Top 40 usually play a particular style of music aimed at women aged 18 to 30," Demento says, "and The Dr. Demento Show, for some reason, has not tested too well in focus groups among that particular demographic."

That's from a post describing the Morning Edition piece about him. Gone are the days of rebel and pirate radio. The new era gives us uncharted internet terrain that corporations can't quite wrangle yet. They'll catch up, but let's hope we squeeze a few new Dr. Dementos out before that happens. In the meantime, look for Dr. Demento on this brave new frontier.

Day Twenty-Two (of 30) More Beer

The payoff for all of the driving we did this weekend was a pair of New Glarus six packs, and a pack of Unplugged Enigma (specialty brew). So far, I've only tried the Moon Man, and it's delicious. It's a pale ale that has a hoppy twang to it, but it's less intense than an IPA. It is to IPA what 312 is to a hefeweiss. If you get that comparison, you should have a pretty solid idea of what it's like.

 

I'm looking forward to trying the Honey Bock (Cabin Fever) and a second shot at Enigma. (I just read the description and remembered that it took all four bottles to actually begin to appreciate it last year, but then it was gone.)

Of course, the real payoff this weekend was seeing our friends and family and receiving a bunch of nice, thoughtful gifts for our son. The beer is just the icing on the cake. Okay, the icing on the cake was the icing on the cake - the beer is the cherry on top.

Day Twenty-One (of 30) Sunscreen

In my quest to be more conscientious about what I consume, I have tried to veer away from mass-produced chemical garbage and toward locally-manufactured, simpler goods. Yes, I am aware that "green" and "natural" are mostly marketing terms and stuff is frequently less "green" and "natural" than you'd think, despite the label.

So, how do you protect yourself? It helps to do a little research. It also helps to prepare yourself to spend more money on things you might have taken for granted in the past. One example for me has been deodorant. I have traditionally used Mitchum antiperspirant/deodorant to keep my natural odors at bay. In reading a few articles on potential effects of aluminum in deodorant, then a number of suggestions for alternatives, I ended up with an expensive stick of deodorant called Nickel.

It's $19, but it lasted me for the whole winter. Since I'm less prone to heavy sweating in the winter, this actually saved me money, and gave my pits a bit of a break. Extra bonus - I really liked the scent.

Of course, your mileage may vary, and it's a big leap of faith to spend $20 on one container of deodorant. On the other hand, Mitchum would irritate my skin on occasion, and that's ended since I started using Nickel.

Another thing I apply liberally to my skin in the summer is sun screen. I have heard about the dangers of deet in bug spray (effectively coats your skin in sticky poison), but never gave a thought to sun screen. Luckily, the folks at the Environmental Working Group (EWG) have done some research. I couldn't find any obvious links to corporate entities in a cursory search, and I'd still take these studies with a grain of salt. But, if they're legit, it's only a few more dollars to get sun screens they deem to be safer. 

One Whole Foods store in our area sold out of all of the top sun screens the day this study went out to the public. Here's the study, and I've already purchased the Badger sun screen as a result. I can say that it's a bit thick and takes some effort to apply, but once it's on, it's not really noticeable.

Bottom line: I like the information they gathered and explained in the study. I like the product they tout as "safest" and I like the fact that a smaller company who still manufactures stuff in the US ultimately gets my money.

Day Twenty (of 30) Swedish Days

If you live in the Chicagoland area, it might be worth your while to head out to Geneva this week. Swedish Days is a long-running festival where you can sample a number of traditional foods, check out a parade, or buy stuff in the shops on Third Street. There are a number of other events planned during the fest, too.

I highly recommend the Swedish pancakes on Saturday morning, the meatball sandwiches with lingonberries, and (oddly enough) the crab pasta at Chianti's on Third. Oh, and gelato at Graham's is a must; get the coconut!

Day Nineteen (of 30) Wisconsin State Fair

It seems true that time heals all wounds. I have, in the past, despised Bret Michaels. Multiple times, even. First, he was the lead singer of a band I actively disliked. Then, years later, he was the focus of a television show where a number of trashy women competed in exploitative contests to win his favor (and I'm fairly sure he was married at the time). Whatever; there are open marriages and I shouldn't judge. (So I usually just avoid, instead.)

Well, curiosity caused me to watch the Celebrity Apprentice this season, but to see how awkward Rod Blagojevich would be in front of a camera (even with producers and editors behind it). An unexpected side effect is that I actually grew to like Bret Michaels, who ultimately won. He cried when he got the news that his daughter might have type 1 diabetes like he does. He actually died during the run of the show but came back in time for the live finale episode. Most importantly, he worked really, really hard. I can't believe he's hard up for money, so he must just have that work ethic, which I can appreciate.



You're probably wondering what any of this has to do with the title of this post. Well, guess who is headlining on the big Saturday night slot of the fair. Yep, Bret Michaels. Do I like him enough to sit through a whole set of Poison songs? Hell no. I'll be enjoying some cheese on a stick and a beer in the International Pavilion.

Day Eighteen (of 30) What a Week

I've been trying to keep the posts for this 30-day project contained to one topic that I either have learned about or would like you to learn about each day. This post will be scattershot, and it'll explain why. If you check the title, then the date, you'll see that I've fallen behind. At this writing, I plan to have things back on track by tonight, but I'm not sure that's realistic.

Wednesday, via Facebook, I learned from a life-long friend that his mom had died. She had been in the hospital once or twice in recent years with liver issues, but this time she had gone in to get a heart valve replaced. Apparently, her liver couldn't clear the chemicals used for anesthetic, and she just never woke up.

Anyhow, the wake was on Friday. My plan was to go early, say hello to my friend (whom I haven't seen in person in many years), and then head out rather quickly. I really do not like wakes or funerals. My plan was foiled when, as I was shutting down my computer, the tornado warning announcement blasted out through the P.A. system at work.

The whole company has to occupy two large meeting rooms and a few hallway areas on the first floor in the case of a tornado. Ten or twelve guys were waiting it out in the bathroom, reasoning that the air conditioning cycled better in there and there was a smaller crowd. At the end of the main hallway, we could see the storm that had come on so quickly violently attacking the trees outside. The flow of rain was a furious sideways, and even went up against the glass.

I guess the wind was clocked at 70 mph. It was as though I stopped my car on the highway and I still needed the fast wipers. So much for leaving early.

At this point, I figured I had to go home and check for any damage. Based on the dark red crescent on the radar (which reached from way south of here to the Wisconsin border), it was very possible, and my lovely wife was just starting her shift as a nurse in a different county.

Well, when I got home, I saw village municipal vehicles at the end of the block, near our house. It could only be my house - that's my luck. Turns out it wasn't bad; a tree in the easement between my house and my neighbor's lost a larger limb. Might kill the tree over time, but neither of us is concerned about that.


This was under control by the time I got there, so I fed the dogs and hopped back in the car. As I drove back toward the city, I noticed another wave of black in the rear view mirror.

The wake was sad, subdued, and very elegant - suitable for my friend's mom. I was glad to have gone, but it was time to head home. I turned on the radio right away, and sure enough, the second wave of storms was heading East. I'd be driving directly into it.

This storm carried only 50 mph winds, but I was driving into them at 60. This one was a far more electrical storm with a lot more rain. Suffice to say, I'm glad we got new tires last Fall.

That was just Friday.

Day Seventeen (of 30) Shows You May Have Missed

These are some samples of excellent shows that I love that get very little attention. I'm pretty sure they're all NSFW.

Archer (FX): Man - if you like juvenile humor delivered by one of the premier voices of snark in our generation (Dr. Katz's son!), this show is for you. It's a cartoon, but it's NOT for kids. It's not as blatantly lowest-common-denominator as South Park or scatological as Aqua Teen Hunger Force, but it is unexpected and consistently funny.


Children's Hospital (WB online): We're hitting new depths of depravity; thank goodness for the healing power of laughter! I am not sure how Rob Corddry got this hosted by Warner Bros. - even the web version - but it is hilarious.


Between Two Ferns With Zach Galifianakis (Funny or Die): The most uncomfortable celebrity talk show you'll ever see. Some of the guests get violent. Zach is our generation's Andy Kaufman.

Between Two Ferns with Zach Galifianakis: Michael Cera from Between Two Ferns

One more thing - if you've never seen Shakes the Clown, somehow a site called Crackle has it for free right here. It's the Citizen Kane of alcoholic clown movies.

Day Sixteen (of 30): Roc the Myna

A few years ago, I was on the hunt for a program that would manipulate images. I was making fliers for the band, designing web pages, and other stuff. I didn't have the skill or knowledge to justify paying for Photoshop, and I eventually found GIMP, which has served my needs nicely.

Not long after finding GIMP, I was able to get on a beta trial for a new, web-based image editing program from a company called Aviary (called Phoenix). They had a number of future projects planned (all named after types of birds), including one for mixing music (Myna). This was intriguing.

Years later, after a few other tools were released and Avi's (proprietor) kid was born, Myna was released, and now, within the past few days, Roc (music creation tool) is also up and running. So, at the moment, you have the ability and tools to edit, mark up, select colors and special effects for images and vector drawings. You can also create and mix/edit music - all FOR FREE!

Not only is the price right, but the big difference between Aviary tools and Photoshop, GIMP, Audacity, or other tools is that these reside online. There's even free space allotted to store your stuff. You can share work or not, and most significantly, you can collaborate with friends!

Check it out - and share your work with the class!

Day Fifteen (of 30) Music Software

Ten years ago, I was sharing a cubicle with my pal Keith. We were both nerds, very into music, and ready to compare notes on music and the software we used to enjoy it. I was into the "less is more" school of thought, so I loved Winamp for listening to music and making playlists of songs for different moods. I used another program to "rip" or extract audio from CDs, called Audiograbber. (Still around, I see.) I liked both because they easily and effectively did exactly what I wanted them to do.

Keith, on the other hand, had studied user interfaces for a living for a few years. He was not intimidated by menus and preferred options and preferences to presets. He was using a program called MusicMatch Jukebox to not only play his music, but to tag his MP3s, rip CDs, normalize volume across songs, and much more. Needless to say, since it was free, I was an immediate convert, even purchasing the "lifetime upgrade" option a few years later.

It really was sweet software - you could edit the MP3 tags on one song or a batch at a time. You could get the basics from the file name or MM would search Gracenote (music tag database, previously called CDDB) for the closest match. If you got songs in some odd format but your portable player only accepted MP3, you could convert them in MM very easily. For any kind of encoding (ripping, converting), you could always set the parameters for the finished product. Then Yahoo! bought MusicMatch.

Like Lala.com, there was an overture by the purchasing company to bring MM customers aboard the Yahoo! Music service. I didn't want recommendations from the record companies. More importantly, the Yahoo! player had almost none of the options I mentioned in the previous paragraph. It was a joke, really, and a double whammy since I realized that the "lifetime upgrades" only lasted a year and a half.

(Then the whole Lala.com to Apple, Inc. thing happened - old wounds opened again, but I digress.)

More recently, I've been looking for similar software to wrangle my ever burgeoning music collection. I want good-quality rips at high bit rates for archive-quality backups. I'd like to be able to even out varying volume levels when burning a CD or listening to my collection. I'd like to have some help with tagging songs I have neglected in the past, and I'm not interested in paying any more monthly/annual/lifetime fees. There are some excellent individual options (EAC for ripping, Songbird or VLC or Foobar2000 for playing) but I liked having one program to do it all.

Media Monkey (MM?!) is pretty much all of that under one roof again. It has done 15+ super-clean album rips and two format conversions for me so far. It uses FreeDB (no charge, unlike Gracenote), has excellent organizational options, and is skinnable. In fact, I found one skin that looks excellent on the television in the living room. Clear and easy to read.

Keith would dig it. (You might, too.)