Browsing "personal"
Mar 14, 2008 - observations, personal    No Comments

Yep, I’m older, like a fine wine.

Today’s birthday number 45. Well, if 50’s the new 30, then I’m still in my 20’s. I’ve got that going for me.

I’ve received several eCards today from co-workers. Many of us are rigged up on Plaxo, making the process of remembering someone’s birthday ridiculously easy:

  1. You receive an email from Plaxo, reminding you of the upcoming event
  2. You click on a link to send a card
  3. You select the card to send, change the default text (if you really want to)
  4. Hit a button and you’re good to go

I love it, I use it, it works. Now … I’m not certain what to make of this, but every eCard I got today was the same template (and I mean EVERY card):

Should I be concerned?

Dec 12, 2006 - personal    No Comments


Well, they sentenced the bastard who killed my friend yesterday.  Actually, “bastard” is too good a word, as it implies “human” and Derick Holliday is anything but human.  Life in prison without parole.  He deserved worse, much worse (the death of a thousand cuts comes to mind) … but, I guess, it’s the best that can be hoped for.

As for that moron’s family, spare me your remorse.  No “good boy” takes a .44 Magnum and chases another human being down a crowded street shooting at them over an altercation in a movie theater.  If you’re looking at someone to blame … look in a bloody mirror.

Actually, one thing could make things a (very) little better:  If there was a service available that one could subscribe to that would send a single (postal) letter at a specific time once a year for the rest of Holliday’s life, I’d pay to send the same letter to him each year on the anniversary of his conviction.  Why that date?  Because that’s the day that, after being found guilty of murder in the first degree, he had the brainless audacity to look at the parents of the man he killed (because he got in the way of him trying to kill someone else) and say, “I hope you’re happy”.  Idiot … but I digress.  I’d pay to send the same letter to him each year:


In answer to your question … no, I’m not happy.  But I’m satisfied that you will never be free to live your life the way you want to.

If peanuts could fly …

I know it’s happened to you before. You hear something and it sticks in your head, hard. You find yourself humming some inane theme or jingle until you’re about ready to gouge out your eardrums with a corkscrew. Lewis Black on his White Album ranted about this phenomenon, though in the context of “the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard”. Maybe things stick because they’re dumb … inane … I don’t know.

All I know is I’m there right now, with that idiotic Snickers jingle in my head:

“Happy peanuts soar,
over chocolate covered mountaintops
and waterfalls of caramel.
Dancing nougat in the meadows,
sings a song of satisfaction
to the world …”

I need therapy.