An Alien Mind

Frou Frou, "Hear Me Out"

2009-11-25T07:18:00.001-05:00

It's unfortunate that Frou Frou (the singer Imogen Heap and producer/instrumentalist Guy Sigsworth) only made one album, "Details," in 2002. Heap's breathy yodel and Sigsworth's synth grooves make a very listenable combination.

I like the gate on her vocals at the beginning: "not . . . o . . . ver . . . you . . ." Interesting.

He who hesitates, waits

2009-11-25T07:03:00.000-05:00

The leaden sky dripped at me during my walk this morning. The threat of rain kept the streets empty. I was alone, the way I like it. My soft rubbery tread was the only sound.

Halfway through my walk, the sky began dripping faster. I could see a heavy line of black clouds oozing toward me from the southeast. I quickened my pace. I could have brought an umbrella, but in the lightning capital of this planet, an umbrella is not as good an idea as you might think. It's better to accept being wet.

Three-quarters of the way through my walk, the drizzle had passed the threshhold of rain, and was threatening to turn into a downpour.

I paused under a tree (itself a big lightning rod, I was acutely aware) and thought about waiting it out. I realized that it would likely be an hour or two, and that in the short term, the rain would only get heavier.

Luckily I am washable.

By the time I got home I was drenched. But I enjoy the elemental fury of this place, so much wetter and more vibrant than the dry, desolate place I came from.

I like the rain. But I'm glad I did not wait for it to abate. It's still raining, hours later.

A befuddled Northerner

2009-11-24T07:23:00.000-05:00

I stepped out the door into the pearly morning mist. Visibility was less than 50 meters. The mist swirled thickly past me, in long streamers overhead. The world was silent, muffled, swaddled in a gray blanket.

I checked the charge on my weapon. The mist hides me well, but it also hides things that are more dangerous than me.

I looked up to see an elderly man shuffling toward me out of the mist, pulling a fat dog on a leash. A northerner, no doubt. The neighborhood's population has tripled in the past two weeks. Most of the houses around us are empty for most of the year. We like it that way. The annual invasion of northerners is a nuisance.

I bade him good morning and tucked my weapon away, out of sight. He looked at me quizzically. I don't think his watery old eyes could discern what I had in my tentacle. It's just as well. It wouldn't do to start my morning by giving an old northerner a heart attack. I'm not sure what I would do for an encore after that.

I gave him and his dog a wide berth and moved off into the mist, leaving him behind to shuffle on his way.

The Day The Box Office Stood Still

2009-11-23T19:02:00.000-05:00

Part of the joy of paying extra for HBO channels is that you get to watch all the crap you would never have paid a dime for to see in the movie theatres.

Case in point: "The Day The Earth Stood Still" (2008), the remake of the 1951 classic. The 1951 version blows the 2008 version out of the water, even if you watch a faded, scratchy copy with the sound turned off. Seriously.

The 2008 version barely made enough, domestically, to pay for its production costs. It made nearly twice that in foreign receipts, showing that overseas audiences are much less critical of crap. The film industry was unimpressed with its performance.

I like Keanu Reeves, although I acknowledge that his acting, post-"Bill and Ted," is extremely wooden. His woodenness shines in this film. If the casting director wanted "wooden and dull," she got what she was looking for in Keanu.

I was hoping that Jennifer Connelly could save the film, but alas, no.

The real stars are the little metal locusts of which the robot Gort is comprised. Gort disintegrates into a whirling cloud of death which spreads across the countryside, eating vehicles, highway signs, buildings and people, leaving nothing behind.

Not much of a plot, really.

What made the 1951 movie a classic was the THREAT of extinction (unless man stops fighting wars), without actually carrying it out. It was more of a psychothriller in that regard. The 2008 version is a lot of CGI and not much heart or rhetorical bombast. "Stop destroying the environment or we'll kill you" doesn't really move me. Or many other viewers, apparently.

Oh well. Hopefully I didn't pay more to see it, based on my monthly HBO bill versus number of movies we actually watch (close to zero), versus what we would have wasted in the theatre on it.

The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2

2009-11-23T09:51:00.002-05:00

I was duped into watching "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2." I have been able to avoid reading the book or seeing the first movie, since they are apparently "chick lit." "Literature" being applied in the loosest sense of the word.

Sadly, I wound up watching half of "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2" before I realized that there WAS no masked killer, and he was NOT going to pick off these girls one by one.

I was very disappointed. That's an hour of my life I will never get back.

All people want is a little thanks

2009-11-21T00:18:00.002-05:00

I was cleaning up my classroom on the last day as the cleaning man came in at 6 PM. He was a short Cambodian man in his 40s. I smiled and thanked him for cleaning the room, and told him that it looked wonderful, that he did a good job.

The dam broke and he began talking. A lot. I get the feeling he does not talk to anyone. In his pidgin English, he told me that he has worked there for seven years, cleaning the building at night, polishing the tables and chairs, washing the windows, shampooing the carpet. The building is indeed spotless.

He works Monday through Friday at night. He has not had a vacation in three years, he said.

I told him that he does a wonderful job, and that the facilities really reflect the care he takes of them. I shook his hand. He beamed.

All people want is a little thanks. A little recognition. It's a wonderful motivator for someone to look you in the eye and shake your hand and tell you that you've done a good job, and that you're appreciated.

That's why people are often miserable in large corporations. The people who review them often have no idea who they are, and never meet them or see them do their work. People get raises, but they don't get thanks. They don't get appreciated. And they're miserable.

A simple "thank you" and a smile goes a long way toward job satisfaction. Try that with someone today. Find a cashier or a custodian or someone who looks harried and tired, and thank them for the job that they do, because you know it's a hard job. You'll be rewarded, usually, with a big smile. It costs you nothing, but it's priceless to them.

And they will remember you.

I resolve not to care

2009-11-21T00:13:00.002-05:00

I used to get very upset when my travel plans went awry. Now I resolve not to care.

I went to sleep on my flight from Edmonton. I remember feeling a sharp lurch as we left the gate. I woke up an hour later and we were still sitting there. Apparently the pilot had forgotten to release the parking brake, and when the tug pushed the plane back, it broke the tow bar and damaged the nose gear.

We spent nearly two hours waiting for the mechanics to pronounce it airworthy.

Two hours that ate up my connection time in Phoenix. I saw my next plane sitting at the departure gate with the cargo doors still open, but when I got to the gate, the passenger door was closed already, only moments before. Sigh.

The airline customer service representative was harried and put-upon, but I turned on the alien charm and soon had her smiling. She worked hard to get me home the same day, on a different airline, since her own could not get me home until midday tomorrow. The amount she paid to get me on the other airline one-way actually was nearly as much as her airline had earned on my roundtrip. So I was a loss for them on this trip. But she was very nice, and I shook her hand and thanked her for her help.

I think I do not care about delays anymore because it's much better than being flown into a building by an angry Muslim. I figure, any travel day that does not end with me being mashed into a pulp and burned to a crisp is a good day.

Dear Leader is thinner, greyer, stressed out

2009-11-20T09:22:00.000-05:00

Recent interviews of Dear Leader Obama with NBC and CBS in Asia featured softball, fawning questions about Obama's stress levels, his weight and his greying hair.

He looks thinner and greyer to me. The presidency is stressful on anyone. Knowing all the horrible things that you must keep secret must be a terrible burden.

It's even harder on a community organizer who's unqualified for the job. ;-)

Survived my class, now to get home

2009-11-19T20:00:00.004-05:00

I am done teaching in the Great White North. It was a good class... things went well after a spate of technical problems on Monday, and the students all gave me good reviews and said nice things. I'm not sure how much to believe them... Canadians are notoriously polite, even when they have good reason not to be.

Now I have 16 hours of travel to get home, because Alberta is not really on the way to anywhere, and it's not that easy to go there or to leave. Oh, I suppose it's a little more of a destination than Manitoba, but not by much.

There, I've managed to insult nearly five million Canadians from two provinces in one paragraph. That's not easy to do. I'm sure I'm going to be found dead with a hockey stick jammed in an inappropriate orifice by a Canadian who's decided the hell with politeness.

We'll see if I get home in one piece.

Haircut 100, "Love Plus One"

2009-11-19T19:58:00.002-05:00

I wasn't paying attention when this came out in 1982. It hit #3 in the UK on the singles charts. Cute. I always recognized the tune but never knew who it was, because of course broadcast radio doesn't tell you.

808 State, "Pacific State"

2009-11-19T17:39:00.000-05:00

This acid house band from Manchester England had a hit with "Pacific State" in 1989 (#10 on the British dance charts). I think it's the only pop/rock/dance tune I've ever heard that featured samples of a loon's call.

I don't even particularly like 808 State. They're too... not slick, but glossy, memorable but somehow unsatisfying. Plastic. Fake. I'm not sure really how to describe it. But for whatever reason, this tune is stuck in my head.

Bastards.

Yes, but you KNEW she was crazy

2009-11-19T06:21:00.003-05:00

I have a friend whose sister is crazy. My friend has known this since childhood. "Bipolar" would be a more polite term. "Crazy" will do, though.

Alcohol and drugs have not helped the sister's condition, either. And there's no helping her, or interventions to be done. She is impermeable to logic or empathy. She will do her own thing, unless she is locked up. And she lives far away, so it's not really my friend's problem in the long run.

After a visit from her sister which ended in a screaming match on the driveway (well, my friend stood there and her sister screamed nonsense for about half an hour, until my friend invited her in for a glass of wine, which turned into three, which calmed her right down again), the sister was banned. They quit speaking for several years.

Recently my friend reached out to her crazy sister via email, after a bit of a search (the sister had changed her email because creditors were hunting her, or maybe because she's paranoid, who knows).

I told my friend it was not the best idea. "She's crazy, you know," I said. "Yes, but I feel badly about not talking to her," said my friend. "Remember the last time you saw her?" I asked. "Yes, but..." and the conversation was pointless after that.

I don't carry grudges, but I have a good memory for certain things. And if someone treats me badly, then there's no real reason to keep interacting with them, regardless of whether they're friend or family. But that's my rule, not my friend's. So she reached out to her crazy sister.

They had a nice warm loving exchange of emails.

Then the sister's emails got crazy. Accusatory. Blaming. Paranoid.

Then they got nice again.

Crazy. Nice. Crazy. Nice.

"I don't understand it," said my friend, frustrated and disappointed. "It's like she's two different people."

"Duh," I said with a smile. "You KNEW she was crazy. What did you expect?" She sighed and I hugged her. "At least you tried," I said.

They will continue to email, I think. But my friend knows that keeping her sister at arm's length is probably the best thing going forward.

Attorney General Eric Holder is an idiot

2009-11-18T22:02:00.000-05:00

And here's a good example of why.

But you probably already knew that.

The History of the Internet

2009-11-18T21:35:00.003-05:00

The accurate but boring version, read by Steve Taylor in a very educated-sounding English accent, which of course makes it more believable. Who cares that the French developed their own version of Arpanet, called CYCLADES? Only the French. They rejected NATO for 40 years, mainly because Charles de Gaulle was a pompous jerk. Much good it did them. (I must admit, I nearly fell over when Sarkozy said France would fully reintegrate its military with NATO earlier this year.)

The goofy cool version, Monty Python-style. Also much shorter, for today's Attention Deficit Disorder-afflicted students.

The proper way to negotiate with hostage-takers

2009-11-18T19:59:00.002-05:00

This has to be one of the funniest lines of all time in any movie.

Please pardon the video maker's inability to spell "Fifth" in the opening credits. Really, how hard IS that? "Please step away from the keyboard, sir; you are clearly too stupid to be using the Internet."

...and this is why I carry a gun

2009-11-18T18:34:00.002-05:00

Two gunmen took half a dozen people hostage last night at a nearby store. I find that to be very annoying.

Various people have asked me in the past why I bother to carry a gun.

That is an example of why. It's insurance. You never know when you are going to need it. You hope you never do. But when you do need it, you are very glad you have it.

Other people around me may feel threatened that I have a weapon, but that's why I don't advertise it. And in the end, I don't care about their feelings. My life matters more than their false feelings of safety. If a business or a home that I visit has a sign that says "Gun-Free Zone," I just smile and walk right in. It's none of their business whether I have a weapon. And in fact, such signs attract criminals, because they know that people in that location will not be able to fight. So it's really self-defeating to advertise a "Gun-Free Zone." You're inviting gun violence. Better to advertise "Weapons Welcome." Criminals will turn and walk the other way. Criminals like defenseless victims.

I'm not a victim.

Moosebutter Medley of John Williams movie music

2009-11-18T06:42:00.000-05:00

These guys are so silly. This is a medley of John Williams' music from several movies, with lyrics all about Star Wars (for which John Williams wrote the music as well). (h/t Mr. Burkey)

I like the spoof of the Titanic theme at the end. I really hate that theme. Really. Hated the movie. Hated the theme. Hated the iceberg. Hated the water. Rather liked all the floating corpses. Especially Leo's. Well, his sank. But anyway. Hated everything about that movie. (Shudder.) It makes me want to sit through all of "Slumdog Millionaire" with my eyes pinned open.

Canadian English

2009-11-17T18:40:00.002-05:00

One of my students asked an interesting question about the software I'm teaching them.

"Does it auto-generate text in Canadian English?" he asked. Meaning, does it automatically generate text with certain words misspelled on purpose, like colour and vapour and endeavour.

I thought he meant, "does it add the word 'eh' onto the end of every sentence?" But I was smart enough not to say that.

"No," I said, playing it straight. You can set the spellcheck dictionary to Canadian English, so that it will not flag stuff you type as a mistake. But it won't auto-generate its own text in Canadian English. US English is pretty much it.

I was surprised, though, to see that there are spellcheck dictionaries in there for UK English, Irish English, Scottish English, Canadian English, Jamaican English, and so on.

I thought that was interesting.

Accountants

2009-11-17T08:08:00.003-05:00

Last week in the Accounting department, I noticed that all of the accountants had this comic strip posted in their cubicles.

It made me wonder.

Gary Numan, "Remember I Was Vapour"

2009-11-17T06:57:00.003-05:00

This is stuck in my head this week. Argh. I like the relaxed beat, though. And the electric violin solo by Nash The Slash at 3:08. I like Nash's official website too. Shockers, he's Canadian!

This version lacks the correct spacey keyboard solo that accompanies Nash's ruminations around 3:15. I don't know where the correct version is. I have it on my server at home, but I don't see it on YouTube. Oh well. This is close enough.

Observant readers may note that I've run this one before. Well, it's been stuck in my head before. And there's no reason why I should suffer alone.

There's nothing here but us
There's nothing here but us

Remember, I was vapour
Remember, I was just like you
Remember, I was liquid
Remember, I was someone too

Remember, I need others
Remember, I need oxygen
Remember, I need lovers
Remember, I need to forget

Remember, I was vapour
Remember, I was just like you
Remember, I was liquid
Remember, I was someone too

Remember, I am human
Remember, I feel just like you
Remember, I had reasons
Remember, I had friends like you

Remember, I grow tired
Remember, I could end all this
Remember, I have memories
Remember, I need to forget

Give blood - play hockey

2009-11-16T21:48:00.005-05:00

Lest I forget where I am, the ubiquitous pickup trucks in central Alberta often sport this slogan.

To suppress a snort of derision, I force myself to remember that they also watch curling on television here. I would argue, at the risk of being beaten by burly Canadian women, that curling is not technically a sport; it is a pastime, like marbles or croquet.

On the plus side, I would argue that Canadians spend far less on hockey (a sport that doesn't matter) than Americans spend on football (another sport that doesn't matter). Sadly, I am too tired to look up the statistics. But I'm reasonably certain it's true. As long as people are throwing away money on pointless pursuits, hockey is a more worthy waste of money than football is.

So I think.

Bad taxi karma

2009-11-16T18:35:00.003-05:00

I was scheduled to arrive in Edmonton, Alberta, at 12:40 AM. Which I did. Along with maybe 500 other people. They were all queued up for the customs scrutiny, line after doubled-over line of them.

I took a sharp left and went to the Nexus scanners. They are little kiosks off to the side of the customs booths, with a little mirror and a little light and a little touch-screen. You push a button and look into the scanner, and it knows who you are.

I never know which of my 14 eyes to present to it. I can never remember which prints they have on file. So I just try one after another until one of them works. Different scanners have different habits, too. I had never seen these particular scanners. They want to see all your eyes at once, rather than just one. Fine.

I finally made the scanner happy, it spat out my yellow "bless you" card, and I handed it to the customs officer at the gate and walked out the door. Done in two minutes instead of twenty.

I had made an online taxi reservation for 12:45 AM, and provided my airline and my flight number. I had never been to Edmonton before, so I couldn't bet that cabs would be running that late at night. (Believe me, I've been to many airports that have no cab service or car rental service past 10 PM. I wasn't about to walk to my hotel.)

I walked into baggage claim, and looked around. No one was there with a sign that said "Marvin" to indicate they were waiting for me. I waited around a bit. No one showed up. So I went out on the curb and hailed a cab. There were many. I was glad.

This morning I looked at my phone and saw a message. My phone doesn't ring here, but minutes or hours later, a voicemail message will display.

The message was from the cab I had reserved. It was time-stamped at 1:00 AM, fifteen minutes later than I had requested. "I'm here," said the driver. "Where are you?"

I felt badly for him, having to drive all the way out there to the airport for a fare who hadn't showed. If I had had more patience, we could have synced up. But I didn't.

I think I have earned some bad taxi karma. I hope I can get a ride back to the airport on Friday.

"No Pets. We Mean It."

2009-11-16T03:44:00.003-05:00

It was midnight in the county park near my house. The park which has large signs posted at the entrance and scattered around the park which say "No Pets." They are there to protect the wildlife, because pets tend to harrass the wildlife, or eat it.

They are also there to protect the pets.

A woman drove up to the park gate at midnight, stopped her car, and got out with her large St. Bernard dog. The dog was not on a leash. She decided to let him run around near the entrance of the park. The entrance is a pole-gate (designed to block vehicles, but not necessarily people) in front of a short bridge over a large drainage ditch.

The dog smelled something, and proceeded to venture into the bushes next to the bridge.

Suddenly there was the sound of splashing. Yelps of confusion and pain. More splashing. Then silence.

The woman called her dog. Called and called. He didn't come back. He had been eaten by an alligator who lives in the drainage ditch.

She was beside herself over the loss of her dog. Never mind that she was at a closed park, in the middle of the night, walking her dog without a leash.

She called the Nuisance Alligator hotline run by the county, demanding that the alligator be caught and shot. The county wouldn't do anything, though, unless Ed, the park administrator, called to have the alligator removed. And Ed wouldn't. Because the signs clearly said "No Pets." Elsewhere in the park, there are signs that say "Beware of alligators." Just not necessarily at the entrance.

Anyone who visits Florida for any length of time (much less anyone who lives there) knows that you don't go near water at night. That's when alligators feed. And there's usually an alligator in any body of fresh water. They're perfectly harmless during the day. But you don't go near them at night. Period.

This woman found that out the hard way, through the loss of her beloved pet.

She called Ed to complain. He was very nice, and he commisserated with her. And he explained that the alligators are a protected species, and they're part of the wildlife of the park. And this particular alligator was just doing what all alligators do. Hunting at night, eating anything that looks tasty. Like her dog.

But Ed did agree to put up a new sign, clearly marked, right at the entrance of the park, in front of the bridge over the ditch.

"Beware Of Alligators," it says. I think it should also say "No Pets. We Mean It."

The sign is a sad little memorial to her beloved pet. But hopefully it will prevent other people from making the mistake she did.

Keep your pets on a leash. And stay away from water at night. Those are the rules. Whether or not there are signs about it.

La Roux, "Bulletproof"

2009-11-13T00:20:00.003-05:00

This British duo (Eleanor Jackson on vocals and Ben Langmaid doing everything else) sounds an awful lot like Yaz from the mid-1980s (Alison Moyet and Vince Clarke, post-Depeche Mode and pre-Erasure).

I like her bold, brassy voice, though her hair is a desperate cry for help. She designs her own clothes, which indicates that she's very creative, but those shoes look like they provide exactly zero support for her feet. The video is interesting for its blocky computer-generated images and geometric patterns.

Bulletproof is a catchy tune. I like it. I might even buy the album.

Buddhist rage kills again

2009-11-12T22:44:00.006-05:00

It used to be that Buddhists would just set themselves on fire when they were really upset about something.

Nowadays they kill people right and left, for any number of reasons. They shoot people, blow them up, run over them with vehicles, cut off their heads . . . any number of methods for murder, and any number of excuses for doing it, mostly revolving around God telling them to do it.

It's surprising how few people are willing to admit that militant Buddhism is a problem that needs to be addressed. It's not politically correct to even think about it. But your own experience tells you that when there's a terrorist attack, a mass murder, it's usually a Buddhist who's committing it.

Right? ;-)

What's even more disappointing is the way the vast majority of peace-loving Buddhists don't seem to be doing much to stop their violent minority from hurting people. I'm sure it's a combination of denial that there's a problem, and fear of their violent militant brethren.

Denial is what got 13 people killed at Fort Hood last week, when a Buddhist soldier, enraged about the United States' involvement in wars overseas against fellow Buddhists, opened fire on his fellow soldiers, including a pregnant woman.

The US Army knew about his militant tendencies, and did nothing about it. They knew that his job performance in the military was substandard, yet they promoted him anyway. They did this because of "diversity," because of "tolerance," because of "political correctness."

When policies like that result in suffering and death, it's pretty obvious that the policies need to be modified, or overturned. I think the Army is going to be on the receiving end of an enormous lawsuit for failing to stop this militant Buddhist, especially when they had been aware of his problems for years.

It's time for everyone, Buddhists included, to be a little less tolerant, a little more aware, and a lot more willing to stop something before it starts.