D.A.R.E. to Solicit…

Yesterday night, I was interrupted by Yet Another door-to-door salesperson. Now, I was expecting another door-to-door tire, meat (yes, meat is sold door-to-door, and I mean meat as food, not meat as MEAT), vacuum, cutlery, or whatever else salesperson. The person was “selling” “donations” for D.A.R.E. … yeah, the anti-drug organization.

[Okay, brief interruption... you shouldn't watch the E! story about Brooke Shields, unless you're really into some random and dysfunctional shit. First, there's this old man in a captain's hat, who's provided a semi-lispy narrative about Brooke's Life. And if the captain's hat wasn't enough, he also referred to Andre Agassi as "the, uhhh, high strung tennis player in her life." It further featured Babs Streisand and Whoopi Goldburg. Right. Anyways.]

Now, I’ve never been asked to donate to a reasonably decent cause in such a horribly shitty way. This young, black man (yes, door-to-door sales seems to be some horrible form of blaxploitation) ran through the combinations of ways that I could contribute to D.A.R.E., and what it boiled down to was “scratch as many circles as you’d like as seen on this sheet”, and “I’ll let you use my quarter!” Now, if you’ve ever seen one of those scratch-off lotto tickets with the designs on them, that’s exactly what the D.A.R.E. thing looks like. Basically, the least that you can donate is $2, and the most is $10… per circle that you scratch. Well, I scratched 2 $10 circles. I was pissed. I wanted to keep $16 less worth of kids off drugs! But I was more irritated with the ensuing conversation that I had with the young salesgent:

Me (after scratching two $10 circles): Okay, that’s enough.
Salesguy (seeing that I just scratched 2 $10 circles): Man, you guys are killing me!
Me: Wait, how are we killing you?
Salesguy: Uhhh…
Me: Does that fact that we’re killing YOU mean that you’re going to give me $20?
Salesguy: No.
Me: Does my $20 worth of scratching mean that you’re going to contribute $20 to D.A.R.E. from your own pocket?
Salesguy: No. But you can write a check if you have to.

There are man frustrating undertones to what D.A.R.E. is doing here. I mean, who really loves D.A.R.E. enough to go through the trouble of bugging people door-to-door? Would you really want to do a horrific job like door-to-door sales if you never had the chance of getting a commission out of it? Or, are they paying the salespeople to do this, and then donating the difference to D.A.R.E.? I mean, such things aren’t unheard of, when you take into consideration larger charities which employ large staffs of people to handle the finances and other stuff. Regardless, if they’re going to bother people in their homes, they COULD just ask for money, no? It’s just SO frustrating to think about!

Okay, no matter what. I’m not going to even deal with door-to-door folks anymore. I’ll continue to be happy with the patronizing that I receive from retail clerks. I mean, I’m happy when the chick from the “record” store who’s wearing the “Godsmack” T-shirt sees me buying a Dokken CD and says, “oh, cool!”

Like I’m gonna fall for the notion that Dokken and Godsmack are “two great tastes that taste great together!” thing… puleeeeeze!

That depends. Oh wait, that depends.

Recently, I’ve taken a liking to XML and SOAP. Now, I don’t really care for using XML for (formatted) document creation. It’s simply too hard to bring one’s self up to speed with a gazillion entities and styles and such. Plus, I have no idea how some things work in XML, and since I don’t currently have anything that prepares the document in something like HTML or PDF, it’s near impossible to tell if I’ve botched something in the XML markup.

But, whilst working with said XML for my update of “Perl in a Nutshell“, I did take a liking to SOAP, and admired the possibilities of turning the insane and tangled mess that is XML into something useful. Better yet, XML->SOAP really lets you operate platform and protocol independent[ly], which made the possibilities seem even more interesting and endless.

So, I pondered a few practical uses of XML->SOAP in my existing computing environment, and realized that we had a few. In fact, my current employer is really big on the notion of “productivity initiatives”, so I decided that by coming up with a productivity initiative that would involve a lot of planning and development, I could (a) be seemingly “productive” during the whole time that I was developing the application, and (b) I would end up developing something that would totally automate writing and updating the shitty documentation that we’re forced to do as part of our daily jobs.

Thus, I would end up being less productive in the end, which is the perfect reason why productivity initiatives are stupid in the first place. That is to say, people will only plan to be as productive as they can today, and will find ways to slack or save undone work for a little job security for tomorrow.

But that was a horrible digression, and I’m sorry. There really was another point to this rambling.

To get my self.documentation system completed, I would be forced to develop it on whatever “testbed” system was available. Since my company and its client is unwilling — or unable — to understand that having a few test/dev servers around for each platform is a good idea, I was forced to develop everything under HPUX 11.11. Now, for those who don’t care about UNIX, don’t know what Solaris is, could care less about words like “recurse”, “object”, “UNIX”, “kernel”, “parameter”, “default”, “threads”, etc., I suggest that you scan down this page for the picture of the girl with the phallus. If you do care about this kind of thing, read on. I’d hate to make you too bored, so bored that you’d be reading blogs during your workday. Thank you.

I’ve been using UNIX for about 10 years now, a good portion of that spent building software, patching, and griping. There is much suckyness to be had with UNIX and other things UNIX, but doing things like building and patching and griping really beats coping with current-day USENET or updating crap-ass and meaningless system documentation. Anyways, I’ve really spent most of my time with Solaris, FreeBSD and Linux, and I’ve learned that each of these platforms is pretty aminable to building software out of the box. Unfortunately for me, I had to build everything under HPUX 11.11, which I’ve learned isn’t quite as friendly.

Now, the one unfortunate consequence of Linux is that it’s caused developers to lose their minds and be very un-UNIXlike. That is, in the world of pre-built packages, and installing stuff from the net, developers have forgotten that (a) not everybody cares for or is running freakin’ Linux, and (b) not everybody shares your same appreciation for dependencies and code “reuse”. With regards to (a), it would be a bonus if I didn’t have source kits go barfola so often whilst building software under non-Linux platforms. That is, you are running Linux, but sure as shite not everybody is. So, have a heart, and use #define, would you? With regards to (b), nobody — and I DO mean nobody — wants to chase 2,000 source kits down for the dependencies that you’ve introduced in your software. If you introduce a dependency to someone else’s source, or source kit, you should make every attempt to put a link to where you can download their source — on your website. I mean, jeez, it’s not like the web is prohibitive when it comes to linking content.

Now, there’s a reason for this rant. A few weeks ago, I found the perfect product to meet my XML->SOAP / XML->HTML / XML->PDF needs. This product was called AxKit, and was written in Perl. I saw this product in action, and was totally bent on getting in running so that I could move forward with my proof of concept. Much to my chagrine, it took me 2 days to meet all of the software dependencies such that I could get AxKit built. First, there were a slew of libraries related to XML parsing, XSLT, and compression, internationalization, and Apache. Second, there were an even BIGGER slew of Perl-specific libraries for the same. In fact, I’m almost certain that I installed more than one XML parser. I think that I counted THREE XML parsers being needed to satisfy dependencies. Now, why should that be? Can’t we decide on ONE good method for XML parsing? And that didn’t even satisfy the other Perl modules that we needed for AxKit. In the end, I could swear that I had a dependency of nearly 60 modules, all of which needed to be built from source.

For a reasonably little application that turns XML into HTML (or whatever else), that seems like an awful lot of girth. And worse yet, I had to fiddle with many of the C and Perl modules so that they would build cleanly and test under HPUX 11.11. Come to think of it, I had to do a bit of that under Solaris, too.

Well, that’s how I’ve been initiating productivity, and ensuring job security. Best yet, I haven’t even written one line of code. What have you been doing?

I’m empty, and a rather good conversationalist, too!

This evening, I had a date with L. For whatever reason, I was nervous before this date, even though I’d NOT been nervous before my previous few dates. My stomach was kind of weird today. Jeez.

Now, many of you who know me are aware that I have an over-active waste removal system. That is to say: I poop A LOT, and often.

I started to get the urge about 15 minutes before my date was to arrive at the restaurant, so I decided that making a pit stop would be best. As it turns out, I had a tremendous poop, and greeted my date refreshed and invigorated! While I’m chunky and balding, the sheer satisfaction of knowing that I felt better after a good poop beat the possible effects of rogaine and viagra put together.

Thank you, colon!

(Oh yeah, and L is pretty cool. We’ll go out again. She’s a nice gal who’s got a great and fun personality. Unfortunately, she’s WAY busy with work, so that’s a negative.)

Dildon’t.

Ummm, yeah.

What’s your drug of choice?

I saw an “interesting” episode of “Behind the Music” a few months back. Specifically, the episode was about the “Grunge Era” of rock music. Two parts of the program really stuck out at me: (1) Grunge was a total industry creation, along with fake “grunge” jargon, flannel and an admission that Alice and Chains weren’t actually spawned from the same scene that birthed Nirvana -and- (2) the extremely serious interviews about how Layne Staley (“Alice in Chains” singer) hadn’t been seen since 1996 and had been fighting heroin addiction.

Today, his fate was confirmed:
http://www.cnn.com/2002/SHOWBIZ/Music/04/21/obit.staley.ap/index.html

Two Wongs Can Make it White (in Bed)

It’s a weird thing when a company creates a product that “moves” people so much that it causes them to protest in the streets. In this case, Abercrombie and Fitch created a series of T-shirts that featured some kind of play on the “Chinese Laundry Company” stereotype.

Now, I’m not going to knock the Chinese people for getting bent out of shape. It does seem a little bit weird to me that people were holding anti-Abercrombie protests, but my overwhelming feeling is that Abercrombie’s “Chinese Laundromat” shirt series was a bad idea. Not specifically addressing the grievances of the Chinese, it just seems like a stupid and bad idea.

For starters, the “Chinese Laundry” theme just doesn’t make any sense, because there’s not a whole lot of context in the present. In your town, when’s the last time that you had your clothing cleaned in a “Chinese Laundry”? In fact, I’ve never seen a “Chinese Laundry” ever.

Now, if Abercrombie’s goal is to be both weird and politically incorrect, maybe one of the following themes would be more appropriate for a future marketing campaign:

1. Your ass and why it itches.
2. The Indians, Pakistanis, and why this pouridge is just right.
3. My baggy pants were laundered with mashed potatoes.
4. Smack my Fitch up.
5. Satan is in my underpants.
6. If you must smoke, please use the Ashcroft.
7. I voted for Bush, as shaving is really itchy.

Breaking my own rules.

Earlier, I wrote here of not speaking to strangers. Well, lo and behold, there’s an exception to this rule.

About an hour ago, I was down in the extra-special smoking “hideaway”, and was minding my own business and having my 4:15pm smokey. I wasn’t really paying attention to anything but the cool “hideaway” (it’s like 90 degrees outside, but a cool 70-75 in the “hideaway”), my cig, and how pissed off I was still at that chronic loafing chairman guy.

I note that someone joins me in the “hideaway”. And further yet, I note that they’ve started speaking, and I’m the only other person around. They say, “well, this is a pretty cozy place to have a smoke…”

At first, I was ready to shoot them my usual “don’t speak to me; stranger danger!” look, but in this instance, my efforts to be overly safe and prickly where thwarted! You see, talking gal was a gorgeous redheaded gal, presumably around my own age. She was dressed in a really sharp suit with a skirt, and, let me say again: she was gorgeous.

So, I said, “yeah, it’s nice and cool in here.”

(Now, if this was a porno, we would’ve made eye contact and immediately gone and done it in the back of my truck, or by leaning against the railing, but this was reality, so the railing remained unleaned on, and I remained chaste.)

She went on to say, “It’s crazy hot out there, like 90 degrees.”

I was like, “yeah, it’s an unpleasant surprise…”

And then the conversation came to a screeching halt. Oops! Maybe I should’ve asked her where she works, or if she’s a regular at the “hideaway”. Hell, I didn’t even have the chance to gawk her ring finger. I was simply shocked to have met a person like that while doing such a horrible thing like smoking a butt, or interrupting my private thoughts about UNIX, work suckage, dating, train wrecks, Red Sox, stand-up comedy, weblogging, sex parties, and whatever else spins around my brain.

Or maybe it was just a mirage. After all, it’s really hot out today.

Nikolai Volkof and the Iron Chef.

I’ve taken a serious liking to the “Food Network”. While it’s a truly masochistic experience to watch it (while) on an empty stomach, it’s got some great and entertaining programs. And with Tivo, it’s all that one can ask for, right?

But with all of the good food programs, one really sticks out at me. “Iron Chef”, if you haven’t seen it, is amazing. It’s a Japanese-based show that’s been broadcast on the “Food Network” with English overdubs (and bad and non-fitting English overdubs at that!). The premise of the show is that the “Chairman” picks an ingredient of the day, and in the end, each chef will present 4-5 dishes for the judging panel. The “guest” or “challenger” chef gets in an hour-long cooking duel with one of the “resident”, “house” or “iron” chefs. The winner gets “mad props” from the “Chairman”, and if an “Iron Chef” loses X matches, then they will be supplanted with an alloy chef (yes, I know that Alcoa can’t wait).

The most amusing part of “Iron Chef” is that it’s a fantastic specimen of a Japanese “super-happy fun variety hour” show — which features a random collection of Japanese people (actors, singers, dancers, sports figures, etc) being histrionic. From the “Chairman” of the show, to “kitchen stadium” to the guest hosts and food tasters, the pure surrealism of it all makes the show worth watching.

Oh, and I didn’t even mention the food.

To put it mildly, having the “Iron Chef” experience is like watching some kind of barbaric medical act take place. You almost expect the “Chairman” to start proclaiming (in English overdub): “It’s Alive! Aliiiiive!” In other words, based on the feature ingredient, it’s not uncommon to have the chef feature a dish that’s been cooked with eel, mango, carrots, green onions, pineapple, and bananas served over a bed of live worms (for color, no doubt). Yesterday, one of the chefs fried up some sardine bones and served them in a soup over rice. No kidding!

Oh, sweet Julia Child o’ Mine. Watch this show!

Fire! (drill) Fire! (drill)

Last week, we had a “surprise” fire drill at work… you know the ones: you’re right in the middle of something, and the fire alarm just starts blaring. Of course, given that false alarms have happened in the past, and the “security desk” piped in over the P.A. to inform you that it was a “false alarm” and to “feel free to stay” (while the alarm honked and honked and honked and honked), you decide to spend 3-5 minutes waiting for the announcement.

And then, you realize, “wait, this could mean death or something”, so then you evacuate with the other would-be lemmings.

Of course, during all “surprise” fire drills, someone is bound to suggest that there’s really a fire or electrical malfunction. “I heard that there was sparking on the 6th floor”, the person will remark. And someone else will say, “Oh, I just figured that there was overflow in the diesel (backup) generator, and that the overflow burned off…” Finally, both of these remarks will catch the attention of more of the “evacuated” lemmings, who’ll start asking lots of questions about these so-called incidents. In general, the “evacuated” lemmings will ask a few more questions, and will then return to where they were previously standing, and parlay the “results” of their queries to their newly-found confidants. Soon, everywhere in the “evacuation area” will be heard words like “generator”, “smoke”, “overflow”, “electrical system”, and “burn off”. Worse yet, not one of these things is true. It’s almost like watching the surf on Manhattan Beach.

So, it makes me wonder… have these people who’ve started these rumors really known how they’re causing other people to act? Is it a purposeful thing to start these rumors? Do they go home at night and joke with their wives about how they caused everyone to believe that there was an electrical fire, when in fact it was just a random fire drill?

And most importantly, if there’s really a fire, will the same people (who started the rumors during the fire drill) deny the fact that there’s a fire — even though there are obvious explosions, and broken glass and debris is flying everywhere?

Why Extenuate?

I don’t talk to strangers. That is to say — and my mother would be proud — I’m not one to strike up a conversation with any person that I don’t know. This rule is in effect for everywhere that I go but includes, in particular, small spaces: buses, airplanes, courtesy shuttles from my car dealership, and the tiny “hideway” smoking area in my office’s parking garage. Unfortunately my strategy doesn’t mean that strangers won’t go out of their way to speak to (actually “at”) me first. And even more unfortunate, the conversations are seldom good… or sane.

Take, for instance, the young fellow who decided to strike up a conversation on an airplane. Even though I had clearly positioned the magazine smack in front of myself, the young fellow was not hindered in his delivery of multiple stories about boot camp, learning how to fire a rocket launcher (and becoming certified to do so, apparently, too!), cheap cigarettes, and how much porn he watched while in the military. While the sheer volume (and profound meaninglessness) of his stories was impressive, in the end I was pretty irritated. For fuck’s sake, man; I just want some peace and quiet! (And yeah, even if he spoke of something more interesting, like making money, I would’ve still been put out by 2 hours’ of blah blah blah’ing.)

Today, I’d just cracked open a new pack of cigarettes and was truly savoring the “flavor”, and my mid-afternoon break in the smoking “hideaway”. Some lady that I don’t know came up to me (her first mistake), and the conversation went like this:

Her: Excuse me, sir?
Me: Yes?
Her: Do you have a light?
Me: Uhh, sure.

(Now, the conversation should’ve stopped right here, but of course it didn’t!)

Her: Thank you! Well, I should’ve remembered.
Me: That’s okay.
Her: You see, I usually don’t forget, but…
Me: Uh huh.
Her: It’s in my coat, and my car is parked on X street by Y place, and …
Me: Uh huh.
Her: So, I figured that I just didn’t want to pay the prices at the “convenient store” in the building for a lighter, so I just thought that I’d ask you.
Me: Well, glad that it worked out for you.

See what I mean? This transaction could’ve been completed with no more than 6 words:
Her: Lighter, please?
Me: Sure, here.
Her: Thank you.
Me: *nod* (Not a word.)

I’m going to start selling my communication efficiency services. The ‘e’ in ‘e-business’ doesn’t stand for ‘extenuate’, baby!