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February 28, 2005
sincerely, hitler
sin-cere
1. Not feigned or affected; genuine: sincere indignation.
2. Being without hypocrisy or pretense; true: a sincere friend.
3. Archaic. Pure; unadulterated.
The pastor was making a point: being sincere is not enough to get you into heaven. Hitler, he said, was sincere. Hitler was a monster, but he was nonetheless sincere.
And that one stuck to the grill, so I mulled it over while the minister moved on. Was Hitler really sincere? He was definitely serious, motivated, efficient. But was he sincere? I think not. I believe Hitler's monstrosity arose from some insincerity deep within him, for I believe at the core of human evil we always find its consort: insincerity.
God confronted Adam about his sin in Eden, and Adam replied: "The woman you put here with me-she gave me some fruit from the tree, and I ate it." Notice the dodge. Adam didn't respond to God's question directly, tried to shift God's attention to Eve.
God asked Cain, "where is your brother?" Cain replies with a question: "am I my brother's keeper?" Again with the shiftiness; Cain wants to avoid talking openly about what's happened to Able.
Samuel asked Saul, "What meaneth then this bleating of the sheep in mine ears, and the lowing of the oxen which I hear?" And Saul hemmed and hawed, and said, "ah, yeah, about that. The ah, the people spared the best of the sheep and of the oxen. But it's for a scrifice to the LORD thy God, Sam. And the rest, we destroyed. Like utterly." Again with the dodge, the shifting of blame.
Paul wrote concerning gentiles who did not know God's law that the requirements of the law are written on their hearts. I do not see how we could accept this as true and yet maintain that Hitler was sincere. Hitler may have been, by the time he broke upon the political scene in Germany, totally convinced of his own sincerity. But who knows how well Adam, or Cain, or Saul had convined themselves of their own justness, rationality, resourcefulness and sincerity before God confronted them?
For my part, I'll be honest; I catch a glimpse of my own insincerity almost every day. (Well, ok, every day.) I hate it, I want it gone, and I believe one day it will be. But for the present, in this life, it's as natural to humans as the air we all breathe, from monsters to Mother Teresa.
Posted by joel at 01:11 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
February 27, 2005
dude, i rock
I got this comment on the Exodus Ain't Easy entry from 02/12/05:
Dude, you rock. To be honest, I didn't try importing without using your perl script first, so I'll just assume without it I would have been in for spending many hours fooling with this.Many thanks. --Wheelson
Wheelson, welcome to Moveable Type. It's a terrific piece of software, I especially love the trackback features.
And I'm delighted my Blogger.com to MovableType migration stuff actually helped somebody. But I'm not one to sit on my laurals (those are actually my hands). For as I type this (sitting on my keyboard), I'm running linux Red Hat 9, over a wireless connection. I must've tried and given up on getting it to work about 3 times over the course of three months. So persistence, resolve, vision, intelligence, resourcefulness and good looks really do pay off.
Posted by joel at 01:39 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
February 25, 2005
sit still
Dawn Eden has found a curious phenomenon of the human nervous system: apparently, for most people, it is very difficult to "lift your right foot off the floor and make clockwise circles" and then "whilst doing this, draw the number "6" in the air with your right hand."
I have, with my own research, discovered a similar curious phenomenon. With your preferred mouse hand, click "Play" below, and then remain motionless. You can't do it! At least I can't.
(Now go buy the CD!)
Posted by joel at 07:02 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
February 23, 2005
it reeks
On Tuesday, BatesLine.com picked up on a comment on tellingdeeds.blogspot.com. "Apathy Bear" says of Michael Bates' website:
Be sure to check out his take on the Terri Schiavo deal. I'm smelling the unpleasent reek of fundy mindrot here...
And then on Wednesday, Hyscience reports on the Florida Department of Children and Families move to intervene in the Terry Schiavo case, and there is this reaction from Michael Schiavo's lawyer:
George Felos, who represents Michael Schiavo, criticized the DCF move, saying it "reeks of the intervention of politics into the case and is an affront to the court."
Well, gentlemen (and bear), as we say in gradeschool, whoever smelt it...dealt it.
Posted by joel at 11:52 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
drudge writ small
Imagine my surprise, when, as I was nosing around on my web server, I stumbled across my old mini-DrudgeReport javascript and mini-WorldNetDaily javascript. I fired them back up, as you can see if you scroll down and look at the right-hand sidebar. They are updated every hour with the latest headlines from those two sites. You want 'em? Here, take 'em.
Mini-DrudgeReport:
<script type="text/javascript" language="javascript" src="http://www.chezjoel.com/include/drudgelet.js"></script>
Mini-WorldNetDaily:
<script type="text/javascript" language="javascript" src="http://www.chezjoel.com/include/wndlet.js"></script>
They're currently configured to be about 178 pixels wide. Maybe someday I'll make 'em configurable.
'Em. 'EM! I never say 'em.
Posted by joel at 11:23 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
media bites towel
Dawn Eden comments last evening on NPR's Persistently Deceptive State and I add this NPR shush job to a growing pile of exasperating Main Stream Media news stories on the subject of Terry Schindler-Schiavo. It's just bizarre that the MSM persists in obscuring the man-bites-wife storyline here, repeatedly assuring us, "no, this is definitely a classic case of dog bites feeding tube."
Here is the story of a husband who was the only person present at his wife's collapse, medical documentation of trauma that could be consistent with strangulation, distraught family members who've begged said husband to leave off, divorce her, and let them provide Terry's care, and yet said husband has consistently fought to deny them that priviledge, going so far as to refuse to let her priest visit her and at one point even denying visitation rights to the members of her own family, all the while waging a legal battle to have her starved and dehidrated to death by edict of the courts of the state of Florida all on the basis of a "living will" (MSM, can you spot the irony?) which in turn is based on a conversation which said husband claims he had with his wife. If that isn't provocative enough a story, a sizable medical malpractice settlement hangs in the balance.
And we're supposed to believe, after the rampantly speculative coverage of the OJ and Scott Peterson trials, that they just don't see a story here? The story is rapidly becoming the MSM: they have all the overtones of Dan Rather obsessing about journalistic integrity. Preposterous! Quit plumping for Terry's right to be forceably starved to death, MSM, and report the damned news already!
Posted by joel at 12:52 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
February 19, 2005
have donkey, will travel
As I was travelling from Cleveland to Indiana last night, my son and I listened to Robert Louis Stevenson's Travels With A Donkey in the Cevennes. I was particularly struck by this passage concerning RLS' time in the region of the once terribly persecuted Camisard Protestants who staged a revolt against France and Rome:
...perhaps the same great-heartedness that upheld them to resist, now enables them to differ in a kind spirit. For courage respects courage; but where a faith has been trodden out, we may look for a mean and narrow population.
I send this out as a salute to all the bloggers I admire and respect, especially those fighting legal battles today. The hearts of many are with you. To further draw from Mr. Stevenson:
We are all travellers in what John Bunyan calls the wilderness of this world - all, too, travellers with a donkey: and the best that we find in our travels is an honest friend. He is a fortunate voyager who finds many. We travel, indeed, to find them. They are the end and the reward of life. They keep us worthy of ourselves; and when we are alone, we are only nearer to the absent.
Posted by joel at 05:10 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
the "dawn for a day" contest winners
The sun also sets, and as Robert Frost said in his bid for headline contest fame:
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay at the Post.
It's a beautiful piece of work, but Bob didn't win. And so it goes with so many outstanding headlines and injected articles. I'm flattered that you participated, overwhelmed at your numbers, impressed by your excellence, entertained by your wit.
But there can be only one --or in this case two. So without further ado, congradulations to Award-Winning Headline Writer Pablo, and Rabidly Anti-Abortion Copyeditor Jon Sanders. I am pleased to present to the New York Post and to the world a revised Page Six headline and article:
Six' Sicks Sic Smitten Gurl for Eden Violation*
Eve: There is truly nothing new under the sunFebruary 13, 2005 -- READERS of George Gurley's full-term writeup of terminated copy editor Dawn Eden in the New York Observer might assume the reporter went foetal with love for his 36-year-old subject, whose main claim to fame was that she was extracted from The Post for improper curettement of a news story in utero of its rabid pro-abortion views. "Here was my idea of perfection: she was pretty, witty, vivacious, ultra sound ..., " Gurley wrote, also mentioning her "plump rump." Gurley reported that Eden lost her virginity at the 23rd annum and that she "hasn't had a relationship reach the first trimester for the past year or two." But Gurley - who plans to spend Valentine's Day with his girlfriend of three years, Hermes publicist Hilary Heard - told PAGE SIX his bonding with Eden was only "cerebral, not fully formed." "I was doing my job. I always fall in love with my subjects," said Gurley, who named Ann Coulter, Lauren Hutton, Georgette Mosbacher and her sister Lynn Paulsin, Jan Amory, and Rita Jenrette. "Maybe Dawn Eden's not quite viable enough for me," he laughed.
Congradulations to both of you, Pablo and Jon. Thanks to everyone for particpating.
* THE MAKING OF THE WINNING HEADLINE: Pablo's headline seems to carry in it the arc of a story which, in my mind, goes something like this: some poor, underexposed copyeditor (probably a new hire) saw "Six' Sicks Smitten Gurl For Eden Violation" and pointed out the syntactical problem with using "Sicks" in this context. "Did we sic Gurley on Ms. Eden?" He asked in the margin, somewhat rhetorically, adding, "I thought Gurley was an Observer reporter." Naturally the writers of the story and headline never even glanced at his notations, but upper management was watching him like a hawk for signs of blogging, and spotted the rabid, anti-error sentiments our hero tried to inject. The poor fellow was called on the carpet and yelled at for being an uppity copyeditor. He was fired on the spot (officially, for mentioning the Observer on company time). But the error still bothered the young copyeditor, so as he walked out with the cardboard box of his belongings under his arm, he yelled out to the copy chief: "Six' Sicks [sic] Smitten Gurl For Eden Violation!" The copy chief grinned and yelled back, "Good luck, kid!" and then wrote down the headline Pablo presented. That's what I think happened. Do I have a nose for news or what?
Posted by joel at 01:22 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
February 18, 2005
the "dawn for a day" contest ends
UPDATE: The winners have been announced!
The "Dawn For A Day" contest is now formally ended. Thanks to everyone who participated. I shall be reviewing all entries and announcing the winners this weekend. Meanwhile please feel free to inject your rabid views into the comment boxes of my other posts.
Posted by joel at 12:46 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
February 17, 2005
stem cell research
The pace of scientific and medical breakthroughs in stem cell research is breakneck (no pun intended), with several interesting and/or important discoveries being reported each month. The table below is a synopsis of discoveries from the months of December 2004, January and February 2005 as reported by The Stem Cell Research Foundation. I will try go back and prepend reports of discoveries from months prior to December as I have time.
| MONTH | TYPE | IMPLICATIONS | PROSPECTS FOR CURE | SOURCE |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Feb |  adult, taken from baby teeth, wisdom teeth |
Teeth may be regrown as an alternative to titanium implants. | Distant: cells implanted into mice produced bone and dentin. | New Research May Yield Natural Tooth Replacements |
| Feb | adult, bone marrow | Cosmetic surgery; implants which do not lose shape and volume as rapidly as conventional synthetic implants. | Distant: one month study in mice had encouraging results, but more studies needed. | Stem Cell Research Hints At Better Looking Cosmetic And Reconstructive Surgery |
| Feb | adult, satellite cells in muscle tissue | May have implications on other cases where patients' bodies are not able to repair themselves. | Distant: tests in mice demonstrate blood's impact on muscle regeneration in old age, scientist don't know why | Young Blood Revives Aging Muscles |
| Feb |  embryonic, from mice embryos | Treatment of liver-based genetic defects such as hemophilia | Distant: tested only in animals, "a number of questions need to be answered" | Embryonic Stem Cells Treated With Growth Factor Reverse Hemophilia In Mice |
| Feb | adult, found in the atrium of hearts of newborns (tissue taken from five infants undergoing surgery for congenital heart defects) | Cell-based therapy for treatment of pediatric cardiac disease | Distant: encouraging source of heart cell progenitors | Researchers Discover Specialized, Rare Heart Stem Cells In Newborns |
| Feb |  umbilical cord, derived from tissue surrounding blood vessels in human umbelical cord | Plentiful supply of hematopoietic (blood producing) stem cells for various bone marrow transplant treatments | Good: researchers found ample source of stem cells (of a type currently being used for treatment) far more plentiful than in cord blood | New Stem Cell Source Could Boost Bone Marrow Transplant Success |
| Jan | embryonic | Possibly the treatment of spinal chord injuries | Distant: not yet tested in animals, several years from human tests (still theoretical) | Scientists Grow Critical Nerve Cells |
| Jan | adult, patients treated with their own stem cells | Minimally invasive treatment of heart failure patients | Excellent: heart failure patients successfully treated ("remarkable") | First Heart Failure Patients Ever To Receive Stem Cells In Minimally Invasive Procedure Have Improved Heart Function |
| Jan | adult, bone marrow stimulated to release EPC's | Treatment of Peripheral Vascular Disease | Good: clinical trial underway | Emory Study Tests Bone Marrow Stem Cells To Improve Circulation In The Legs |
| Jan | embryonic | Process (extracellular matrix) for turning ES cells into precursor cells so that they can be used for various diseases | Distant: described as "enabling technology" for further research | Priming Embryonic Stem Cells To Fulfill Their Promise |
| Jan | embryonic | No benefits indicated: researchers call for starting over with newly derived strains of embryonic stem cells, but complain at "existing rules" governing use of federal grant money | Poor: traditional cultivation methods inadequate ("More research needed") | Current Human Embryonic Stem Cell Lines Contaminated With Potentially Dangerous Non-Human Molecule |
| Jan | adult, produced by the spleen | Possibly versatile adult-derived stem cells for several types of damage or injury. | Distant: adult stem cells found producing protein previously thought to be produced only in embryonic stem cells. | Spleen May Be Source Of Versatile Stem Cells |
| Jan | HUCB, taken from blood in umbelical cord | Treatment of heart failure | Distant: successful tests in rats soon after a heart attack | Study Shows Cord Blood Cells Limit Heart Attack Damage In Animal Model |
| Dec | adult, leukemic cells have properties of stem cells | Cancer's implications for stem cells cultivation, and potentially a better understanding of cancer. | Good: Near term benefits ("excited") | Discovery Suggests New Options For Treating Leukemia |
| Dec | adult, human bone marrow derived | CF patients treated with their own stem cells | Good: small clinical trial in 2 to 3 years ("optimistic") | Combination Stem Cell-Gene Therapy Approach Seen As Potential Treatment For Cystic Fibrosis |
| Dec | embryonic | "Biological Pacemaker:" human ES cells combined with rats' heart tissue and implanted into ginea pigs regulated heart rhythm. | Distant: experiments in animals only; some perplexing results | Animal Studies Show Stem Cells Might Make Biological Pacemaker |
| Dec | adult, fat derived | Treatment of difficult bone defects where grafts are not sufficient | Excellent: human patient successfully treated | First Case Of Fat-Derived Stem Cells For Repairing Human Skull Defects Reported |
| Synopsis: | % of Discoveries: embryonic - 29% adult/cord - 71% | Distant Prospects: embryonic - 4 adult/cord - 5 | Good or Excellent Prospects: embryonic - 0 adult/cord - 5 | All data above from The Stem Cell Research Foundation |
Posted by joel at 11:58 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
train of dreams
Just before I awoke this morning (or so it seemed) I dreamed I was in some midwestern greasy spoon conversing amiably with the other patrons. They were, it seemed, all shriners and VOF's: the everymen of the American aged.
There was a model train on tracks that ran all the way around the dining room. I know nothing about the scales of model trains, but this one had tracks which were about three inches apart. As the model train clacked softly past us, suddenly it gave me an overpowering memory of the sound of a real train speeding close by a house; the rushing, the rumble, the deafening, mornful, descending peal of the horn as it passes by. I suddenly became so excited that I turned to the old man next to me and, bunching my fists close in front of me and shaking them, said, "Doesn't it make you wish it was a real train?" He looked confused. I tried to explain: "when I first heard a train up close, I found the noise and vibration to be annoying. Eventually I stopped noticing it. Then I moved away from trains, and once in a while I get nostalgic for the experience." The old man smiled, but there was a subtext to his expression I couldn't read. Still smiling, he gazed distractedly down at his plate.
The deafening peal of my alarm clock ripped me away from this vignette, and as I arose, I thought, "I don't even like trains." And it's true that I never really did before this morning. Now I have a desire to experience one rushing past from up close, to feel the ground shake, and hear the air quiver with the multi-toned blast of
of a Great Northern howling by.
Posted by joel at 06:47 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
February 16, 2005
dawn another day
UPDATE: The contest is concluded and winners have been announced!
There remain, at this writing, less than twenty-five hours til the end of the "Dawn For A Day" contest (submit entries here). Many thanks to all of you who have submitted entries celebrating the exploits of the World's Most Overexposed Copy Editor.
And you're cracking me up! Any one of you could work for the Post, if only the Post were worthy of you. Keep 'em coming, tell your friends to compete. We're on the final stretch, and it's starting to feel like CBS on election night. To paraphrase blogger fodder Dan Rather: "Again, I stress, and I cannot emphasize this enough; we are being so careful here, and we just don't want to rush to call this, until we're absolutely certain; until all precincts are in..."
Posted by joel at 11:28 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
February 15, 2005
blogger bates behemoth, behemoth blandly blubbers
I was saddened to read of the Tesla Whirled's taking to task of blogger Michael Bates (of batesline.com) in a letter which he has brashly "reproduced" here. I am saddened because the Whirled's letter is couched in rather bland, mamby-pamby language which has failed to properly get Mr. Bates' attention, let alone dismiss him from the bloggosphere. I have taken it upon myself to prepare upon the model of the Whirled's letter, a better letter which all major media news reporting entities may, by virtue of fair use law, assimilate and use as their own:
Dear Mr. Scumbag Uppity Blogger:I am writing on behalf of ____________ Publishing Company, publisher of ____________, Main Stream News Media Newspaper, Informer of the Realm, Apostle to the Smug, Mouthpiece of the French. We are perturbed to learn that despite our continuing Magnanimity© in allowing you to publish your insular epithets on the Internet™ at ____________ (your so-called "blog"), you have flouted our beneficence and strained our considerable patience by reproducing. You have also reproduced (in whole or in part or not at all) the wisdom of articles and/or editorials from ____________ newspaper and/or have jury-rigged egregious and nefarious hyper-links™ on your "website" which direct your cretinous so-called "readers" to ____________'s fascinating and irrefutable content.
We at ____________ copyright its entire newspaper and specifically each of the articles and/or editorials at issue. Still more specifically we copyright each paragraph, each sentence, each word, the names of all persons mentioned therein, each letter, and have trademarked the peculiar sounds each letter makes as it spews forth from the slack and overmoist cake funnels of you and your ilk. (We do not suffer you to respond verbally or in writing at this time; please continue following our scintillating and edifying missive until you reach the bottom of this foolscap of high-grade cotton-bond paper.) The reproduction of any articles and/or editorials (in whole or in part or not at all) on your so-called "blog," or linking of your "website" to ____________ content is without the benediction or sanctification of ____________ and constitutes an Intentional Depletion of Our Legal Budget (IDOL), and infringement of ____________'s copyright, destiny, God-given charter, and other rights to the exclusive use and distribution of all readable material.
Therefore, we hereby demand, nay, impell you to immediately prostrate yourself before ____________, but only briefly at this time, as you must make haste to remove any of ____________'s material from your "website", to include even the mere stink of unauthorized "hyper-links" (Patent Pending) to our Major Online Media Presence, and cease, desist (and perhaps cease to exist) from any further use, dissemination or even contemplation of our inestimable Copyrighted Content©. If you desire to use (in whole or in part or not at all) any of the content of our newspaper, well, let's face it: that simply isn't going to happen. If you fail to comply with this demand, or, for so much as a second, glance at your rolodex™, ____________ will take such legal action as is necessary to assure that your miserable progeny will weep at the sound of our footfalls for a thousand years. Additionally, we will pursue all other legal remedies, including pestilence, celebrity interviews, levy initiatives, denial of service attacks, boxing of the ears and border raids to ensure the recompense of our onerous damages that have most certainly resulted as a direct result of the results of your wickedness and resulting mayhem this infamous day.
We anticipate with utter certitude your immediate and obsequious groveling and cooperation in this matter. Please acknowledge your compliance by rending your clothes, throwing dust in your hair, signing below and turning from your wickedness. Return this signed legal device without making eye contact. You may not speak to another living soul for 180 days.
Most Graciously,
(signed)
_____________
Viceroy of the Media's Honor_____________
Posted by joel at 11:14 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
February 14, 2005
the "dawn for a day" contest
UPDATE: The contest is concluded and winners have been announced!
As you already know if you've come within 200 feet of a copy of the NY Post, Dawn Eden of The Dawn Patrol was recently fired from her post at the...that paper. Since they couldn't throw her stuff out the window after her (legend has it she carried her belongings out in a cardboard box), they had to settle for a good hissy fit on Page Six. That went so well, they followed it up with a two-fer kvetching in their print edition today.
Whomever they got to replace award-winning headline writer Dawn Eden has dug deep and has come up with this gem for the smear on Gurley and his interview with Our Girl Dawn: "WRITER'S STRANGE INFATUATION OBSERVED." Folks, that's not the kind of Post headline I've come to expect. And so I smell a contest. And so will you if you'll lean forward and sniff your computer screen, right here, because this here is a headline-writing contest.
Try out Dawn's old job for a day: write a headline for the article in question, and submit it as a comment (email address required, of course). Dawn's not allowed to compete for the prize, but if the old pro wants to wield her magic wand, well, heck, we won't fire her for it.
As a second and optional phase of the contest, please submit your revised version of the Post's cough-and-tell, complete with your injected (and reflected) rabid anti-abortion views. I have included below the full text of the Post article in case the Post decides to cover their plump rump and remove it from their website.
PRIZES
First Place for Headline: I am tremendously excited to be able to offer, from Dawn's personal archives, a copy of the famous New York Post "Kerry's Choice" edition. What a pleasant reminder that the Post knows nothing about picking a winner!
First Place for Revised Article: A $50 Online Gift Certificate from Barnes & Noble (redeemable at http://www.bn.com).
Fine (just dandy) Print: All entries will be judged by yours truly; what I say goes. Alas, my family members are excluded from winning prizes. And so am I, although that may not stop me from hurling out one or two of my own.
The contest will conclude in three days from now, precisely at midnight eastern time, Thursday 17th, anno Domini 2005.
Good luck, everyone, and as you write those headlines, just remember: WWDW? (What Would Dawn Write?)
NEW YORK POST
WRITER'S STRANGE INFATUATION OBSERVED February 13, 2005 -- READERS of George Gurley's lengthy writeup of copy editor Dawn Eden in the New York Observer might assume the reporter had fallen in love with his 36-year-old subject, whose main claim to fame was that she was fired from The Post for improperly rewriting a news story to reflect her rabid anti-abortion views. "Here was my idea of perfection: she was pretty, witty, vivacious ..., " Gurley wrote, also mentioning her "plump rump." Gurley reported that Eden lost her virginity at 23 and that she "hasn't rounded first base for the past year or two." But Gurley - who plans to spend Valentine's Day with his girlfriend of three years, Hermes publicist Hilary Heard - told PAGE SIX his bonding with Eden was only "cerebral and intellectual." "I was doing my job. I always fall in love with my subjects," said Gurley, who named Ann Coulter, Lauren Hutton, Georgette Mosbacher and her sister Lynn Paulsin, Jan Amory, and Rita Jenrette. "Maybe Dawn Eden's not quite old enough for me," he laughed.
Posted by joel at 01:29 AM | Comments (34) | TrackBack
February 13, 2005
varlet parking
I am a rational person. I am easygoing. I am low-key. I am centered, balanced, and humming in harmony to mother earth's resonance. Or I was until last Friday evening.
My son was at my parents' apartment, and I went to pick him up. They invited us to stay for dinner and I accepted. This was around 5:45pm.
My mom, freshly returned from the dentist, sat and conversed with me, while my dad disappeared into the kitchen to put dinner together. After a while I got up and went to see how my dad was doing. He had out an Indian cookbook, and had just finished dusting the talapia with tumeric. I chatted with him for a bit, and then left him to his labors.
We had an outstanding Indian dish: talapia with Bengalese Fish Sauce. It was accompanied by a vegetable stir-fry on Bismati rice and some stuff called dal which was made with salmon lentils. Simply a delightful meal.
At about 8:20pm, as my son and I got ready to leave, I suddenly realized things were about to go not-so-well. "Oh, shoot!" I exclaimed, "my car!" I rushed to the window of my parents' eighth story apartment and looked out into the darkened parking lot. My car was gone. We had stayed past 7pm without a visitors permit, and thus the building managers' lackey had come skulking around the nearly empty parking lot with his truck, and had come upon my hapless chariot lounging in heedless violation of the most assinine parking stricture in the history of Western law.
My dad offered us a ride to auto-hades, to challenge the devil for my vehicular freedom. As we pulled out of the parking garage, we paused to read the posted notice which gave the address and phone number of those heathen car snatchers, and outlined the soul-crushing penence I would be obliged to pay. "Ninety dollars," the sign pontificated. "Twelve dollars per day for storage as well," it added sternly.
"But you've only had my car for an hour and a half," I protested. The sign said nothing more. And so I set aside my zen.
I pulled out my cell phone and dialed the number for Hades or Cerberus or whoever.
"This is Auto-tow, how can I help you?"
"Where is my car." My voice was edged, brusque and slightly too loud. There was no question mark in my sentence, as question marks are curvy instead of edged or pointy, and therefore useless for my purposes.
"Ah, what kind of car is it?"
"Taurus, 2001."
"Yeah, that just came in."
"Where are you," I announced crisply.
The man on the other end of the line was starting to be a little rattled. As he gave me directions, his voice carried a desire to calm me, to smooth things over.
"I'll be there momentarily."
He finished by giving me the total, and a few other details I was too angry to notice. I slapped my phone shut and fell silent.
As my dad drove us to Auto-Tow, I began working on my frame of mind. This was aggrivating, and a waste of my money. And the building managers were fascist money-grubbing idiots, but still...why should I let them spoil my frame of mind?
And so, by the time we found Auto-Tow, I had mostly succeeded in calming myself down. As I walked into the ramshackle trailer which was Auto-Tow's office, I was quiet, grave and determined to just pay the devil and get out of there with my car and my temper.
The man at the desk took my drivers' license (presumably this helped him prove I owned my car, but I can't see how), filled out an invoice, and then gave me the total due, which included, perversely enough, a sizeable chunk of state sales tax. The total was around $110 dollars. I handed him my credit card and he said, "oh, sorry, it's cash only. I told you that on the phone."
I said nothing. I stared at him. Silently. For several seconds. Then I collected my credit card, turned on my heel and walked to the door as he tried to explain where the nearest ATM was located. I listened without turning to face him, but couldn't hear or comprehend what he said, because I was furious.
As I walked back to my dad's SUV, I pulled out my car keys and pressed the key fob's car alarm button repeatedly. I thought to turn on the alarm and leave for the ATM, my car's flashing lights and honking horn fading into the falling snow behind us. I was bitterly dissappointed; my car was apparently out of range.
On the way back from the ATM I began again to work on my frame of mind. I didn't, I couldn't and I won't tell myself silly things like "that man is just doing his job." No, I thought to myself, that man is either one sick puppy, or his job sucks. But I did take some comfort from the fact that stuff like this often happens for a reason. This was a distraction, nothing more. Pay the ax-man, move on and don't lose your dignity in the process, I mused.
When I walked back into the trailer, I found I wasn't completely over my anger. I stood off a few feet from the man's desk at the full height of my bulky six foot two inch frame, utterly still and completely silent. I let the man behind the desk talk away his nervousness. I gave him his money, accepted the change and followed his associate out the door all without saying anything. But I noticed, as he was handing me my change, that his hand was shaking. And as I drove home that night, I decided he wasn't a sick puppy, but that his job well and truly sucks eggs. I hope he gets free of it someday and goes on to do something more enjoyable than dealing with the likes of me on an angry February evening.
Posted by joel at 11:33 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
February 12, 2005
exodus ain't easy
First off, let me just say that installing Movable Type was easy. Just absolutely a snap. And they have some pretty good documentation too. I found plenty of help in their help files.
But there were two major hurtles I could see as I started puttering around with it last evening. First, I'd need a better set of templates than the defaults. I just can't abide default templates. No way, not good enough for me. So I googled around for some alternates while working on the second problem (which I'll get to in a moment) but didn't find much of anything. And this is odd, since I seem to recall finding a whole trove of 'em dangling online a few weeks ago when I went lookin'. At the time of this writing, this website is sortofa slate blue and white, and covered with fine print which, on closer examination, turns out to be this very post you're readin' right now. But I'll sort that out soon enough as you'll soon have seen. On to the second problem, which, due to it's tremendous difficility, plumb nigh broke mah spirt.
The problem, yall, was yall. Or more accurately the noisier ones of you. Movable Type's instructions for importing my blogger.com blog more or less advised me to put my friends' comments into a dinghy and set 'em adrift. But I couldn't do it. So I set to work.
Noticing that MT had instructions on how to export GrayMatter comments, I tried creating a blogger.com template that would mimic the GrayMatter format. No. So then I went further in my reverse-engineeringist ways, and exported a couple of test posts out of MovableType. I could re-import those just fine, but when I tried to mimic that format with the blogger stuff, MT found no reason to import anything. I had gone so far as to export my stuff out of blogger.com as xml, and was starting write a program to directly insert the xml'd entries and comments into MT's database, when I thought I'd give the ole reverse engineered blogger export one more crack.
Several
And there you have it. Or more accurately, there I have you, or at least your comments. Hail the gang is definitely all here. And I can say with certainty, now that it's all over, that I would never have migrated to Movable Type if it had meant losing all your comments. No way in slate-blue heck.
For those who are either technically inclined, or, perhaps more pertinently, blogger.com-ally disinclined, I am including here, for your enjoyment and edification, the stuff I created and used to get blogger to let my peeps go:
- Blogger template for exporting as xml (with comments :):
- Blogger template for exporting to MovableType's import/export format:
- Perl script I wrote to cleanup blogger's author field/link and also clean up line ending characters so I could import my peeps' comments and get some sleep this night:
- Me. If you're a friend of mine, and are wisely trying to get free from ole bloggy, and need help with any of the above elements, I'd be happy to stand around and yell encouragement and advice. Heck I might even roll up my sleeves...
Posted by joel at 09:40 PM | Comments (5)
chezjoel is still my name
In case you were picking lint off your sweater when you clicked on the bookmark to my website, yes. This is still me. I'm messing with things as usual, and now I've messed up my green site, turning it into a blue sight for sore eyes.
I'm still messing with it too. But seriously, could it get worse? And think of all the important things in the world I'm not turning upside down whilst wiling away my time with website rearrangement hijinks.
Speaking of which, good-bye blogger.com, hello MovableType! If you've ever used blogger.com, you know they're a royal pain in the butt as often as not. I got tired of writing brilliant things and not being able to read them on my blog for several days.
Migrating to MT wasn't as easy as the brochure led me to believe. I blew a whole saturday on it. I'll tell you about it in my next post.
Posted by joel at 08:45 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
February 07, 2005
the love life of joel hoagland (page 62)
"There are three things that are too amazing for me, four that I do not understand: the way of an eagle in the sky, the way of a snake on a rock, the way of a ship on the high seas, and the way of a man with a maiden. --Proverbs 30:18,19
Once when I was a boy, I asked a girl to be my girlfriend. I wrote her a note which read, "It is with the utmost respect that I ask you to be my girlfriend." The note was intercepted by her teacher, who read it, and was so impressed she waited until the end of the class and then let some other teachers read it. Eventually she handed it back to the girl for whom I'd written the note. Her name was Jennifer.
After that, nothing ever happened between us. I think we talked a time or two. But I remember distinctly, a time shortly after she'd received my note, when she crossed the lobby amid her bevy of friends. Her path was perpendicular to my rapt attention, but she looked sideways at me with a coy smile and then passed on. She was in the eighth grade. I was in the ninth.
I'm sure I left a very minor impression on Jennifer, but I'd like think, at least, that I was no hurt to her, for I cared for her. It was my awkwardness, as much as old-fashioned gentility, which conspired to keep me a paragon of circumspection and virtue in my youth. I hurt others later, and was also hurt. But I wouldn't change the way my love life has played out, even if I could.
It costs much to love, and it seems, at certain moments, that we lose more than win. Do not regret, and do not despair, but hope in the fact of Love in this world. Each of us who loves another is infinitesimal but glittering, like a single grain of sand on a paradisaical shore, basking in the empyrean light of the Love of God. Who can understand why one person comes to fix his heart upon a beloved?
Posted by joel at 08:50 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
February 01, 2005
ice, wind and the rising sun
The heavy schedule imposed by my new job and 82-mile commute occludes much of the evening these days, and all of the afternoon. It's dark when I pick up my son and head home, and I'm generally too tired do anything but drool competently. So last night the son and I resolved we would rise at an intrepid hour, navigate the darkened streets to the park, and go sledding as the day was born.
My son opened his eyes at 6:15am and immediately changed his mind. "Dad," he said, "I don't think I'm up for it."
"Yes you are," I assured myself. "Brush your teeth."
He had some juice, and it seemed to rouse him and revive his spirit of adventure. As we prepared to leave, he said, "I guess I'm ready to go sledding."
According to our custom, I dropped him off with his sled at the top of the hill, and then I drove down the road to the parking lot at the bottom of the hill. It was a good day for sledding. The snow had half melted and half frozen in the night: it offered low resistence and low friction. My son had the fastest, longest runs ever at that hill this morning. And as I paced in the snow at the bottom of the hill, the sun rose. There were moments when I could swear I saw it getting lighter from one second to the next.
Tonight when I picked up my son, it was dark. I'm glad we went sledding this morning. I was fifteen minutes late for work this morning, but it was worth it.
Posted by joel at 11:40 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack