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Hi, This is Wayne. This is my site, my stuff, my blog, blahblahblah. The site itself is powered by WordPress and the Scary Little theme. I thought it was cool, and I still do.

If you’re like me, a bearded 38 year old male who loves classic rock, Pepsi and likes to blog, then you have a good chance at remembering this song when it was on the radio.  Do you remember trying to figure out if he was saying “Bruce” or “Rouuuuuse” or “Goose” or “Groos” or whatever the heck it was he was saying?  Me too!

Now, in an effort to switch gears and emotions fast enough to peel chrome off the whall tourbus, I’m changing “bruce” to “aclu’s” and “don’t bring me down” to donttearmedown.com

Ahem.  You can sign the petition at their site, follow them on twitter, and do a heckuva lot more stuff if you’re inclined to.  This kind of stuff tears my heart out.

July
8
2009
12:34 pm
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As I’ve mentioned before, time labels fascinate me.

At the moment I post this, it is

12:34:56

7/8/9

Well, it would be, if WordPress let me edit the exact second a post is published.

Unrelated to the time, anyone care to help me caption this?

white-house-black-market

This store is right across the street from the Apple Store at The Domain here in Austin.  Have you heard of this store?  At first I thought it was called White | Black and that someone added the “house | market” as a joke.

June
22
2009
5:30 pm
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Here’s my problem.

I have a fantastic idea every now and again. Not a “good” idea.  Not just “great” even.  AMAZING.  High Caliber.  Uber-wicked.  Super.

When I have an idea like this, my brain explodes with all the details, and pieces taking form all at once.  The wonderment of it all excites me as I revel in the newness, creativity and anticipation of all the accolades I’ll receive upon completion of the idea.

However, many times, I never work on it.

*sigh*

Recently, while chatting w/LeSombre I had another one of these ideas.  Well, it was a decent idea; not necessarily awesome, but also not shabby.  And given an appropriate amount of effort, it could resemble awesome.  If executed properly, and if the vision in my head was actualized, it would be really darned cool.  But I’m starting to self-realize the “dreamer” aspect of my life and that, when I get an idea like this, I really should either drop it, or actually write it down and come back to it and pay some attention to it.

In this case (chatting with LeSombre), I formed the idea while chatting, and then even lamented out loud to him that I’d probably never work on it, and then he sorta offered to help, and that kinda sounds cool, and then I start thinking “at what point should you share out cool ideas for the sake of getting it out there vs keeping it and trying to be first and innovative.”

On the one hand, it’d be cool if there was an idea registration site, so if you had a nifty idea, you could login, describe it and kind of get social credit.  Others could view, add to it, “digg” it up, refine it, volunteer, maybe monetize it, etc.  I’d hate to lose the royalty-aspect of a really killer idea, but I have to believe the benefit to humankind would outweigh any minor squabbles.  Plus, if someone did monetize the idea and it was first documented on the idea site, coding ninjas would come out and levy swift justice.

Great. I just did it again.

June
21
2009
12:00 am
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Showing love for NYCWD.  Cereal Kisses, Dawg.
(for more info, read this post or this post)

June
5
2009
1:48 pm
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Gary worked in a pickle factory.  He inherited this gem of a job by being part of a legacy.  His dad worked at that same pickle factory, the one his grandfather created from the ground up.  You’d think the factory would be run by Gary, much the same way Gary thought that it should, but Gary had a problem.

He was a lousy pickle factory owner. 

So was his dad.  His dad just got the job because he was the owner/founder’s son, but the ways of safely and expertly putting pickles into jars all day were completely lost on him.  To avoid bankruptcy, his dad hired an outside consulting firm to run operations, and just took a normal managerial job; one that wasn’t too demanding, didn’t require too many decisions, and most of all, didn’t involve too many pickles.  This was a great decision because this helped the factory keep the doors open.  It didn’t excel, but it didn’t close, and that made all the workers pretty happy.

Gary was a lot like his dad, which meant he wasn’t anything like his grandfather.  This also meant the outside consulting firm maintained operational control of the company.  Gary hated this.  He had his own dreams.  He loathed going to work at a factory he should have been running, he should have as a feather in his cap, he should be proud to declare his namesake.

The problems Gary had stemmed not from the process of placing contents into jars, cans, cannisters, containers or boxes, but rather that of the contents themselves.  He couldn’t stand pickles.  The smell, the texture, even the CRACK! sound when you bent one in half; it all raked his spine like someone injected gravel into one’s cartilege.  The bumps annoyed him.  The color disgusted him.  Pickle juice made him squirm.  Even the sound of the word itself… ewww.

He hated pickles.

This in itself isn’t too weird.  There are a lot of people who don’t like pickles, and most people have at least one idiosyncrasy that helps define them.  Gary, however, had two.

He loved fecal matter.  As much as he hated pickles, THAT was how much he loved crap.  It was disturbing how fascinated he was with #2.  Dung was at the top of his list for what he needed for a fantastic time.  If he had his druthers, he’d be examining guano, manure, cow pies and excrements of all shapes, sizes and smells.  He knew poop had a lot more going for it than just being a good fertilizer.

His problem was what to do with this fancy of his.  All he knew, professionally, was pickling.

So after a particularly successful session on the toilet, where he does his best thinking, Gary came up with the perfect business idea. 

He’d start a new business.  Surely there’s a market for people like him, who’d want their meadow muffins stored conveniently in a jar for safe keeping!

The motto of his new business would be

February
13
2009
6:00 am
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Who remembers the Sesame Street song of a similar bent?

AKA the “pinball countdown”.

Ahh, memories.

And we’ll all remember today, Friday the 13th [ooooooh!] as the day that Unix time hit a very recognizable number.  At 6:31:30 pm today, something called “unix time” (aka localtime) will be exactly 1234567890.

What is unix time, you ask?  Unix time is something used by some computers for easier calculation of time.  The quick explanation is that it represents the number of seconds since something ominous called the “epoch”, which is January 1st, 1970.  Computers are very good at these kinds of calculations for some reason, and for another unknown reason they’re horrible at calculating the next set of winning lottery numbers.

For me, this is like 1:23:45 on 6/7/89 or 12:34:56 on 7/8/90 (or 07/08/09, this year) or 08/09/10 at 11:12:13.  It’s also similar to 11:11 in that it’s made up of abritrary numbers that may or may not be in a row.  I love seeing patterns like these!

Do you see any patterns that excite you?  I mean other than my chronological posting of blog entries.

 

I have all these great ideas for blog posts but often don’t act on the impulse to write them down.  Sometimes it’s like I’m thinking about this blog thing like a job and it feels like a chore to go to the blog and write.

Like right there – inspiration.  “go to the blog and write,” to me, is said Freddy Murcury-style from Fat-Bottomed Girls… “get to your blogs and WRITE!” and now I want to do a whole song about “whall-authored blogs, you make the rockin’ world go ’round

Sigh.  I just don’t have time to make that kind of quality stuff.

Ooh, there was another idea I had, about petitioning Mike Myers to come back to SNL just so he could parody Rod Blagojevich.   Tell me he wouldn’t be perfect for that job…

And then there’s the MITL – Mac In The Life – that in my head would be so perfect but I just don’t take the time to make it happen.  I even have people pushing my buttons to do it!  So what do I do?  I just call in an utter or two – one impromptu song dedicated to Marty Mankins, Blogography and Poppycede and one soundless dancing video to test the recording and upload capabilities of the MacBook Pro.  Not quite what you’d call quality, right?

So maybe I’ll take the time sometime soon to actually make a blog post.  But for today, you just get these ramblings.  

Well, I’ll give you one piece of advice.  Make sure you back up your computer before the end of the week.  You’ll know why soon enough.  Just get a backup done, ok?

October
28
2008
12:49 pm
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As my daughter made our short drive to her high school recently, she asked me a question while pulling up to a red light:

If the lights had timers on them, do you think that would have more wrecks, or less?

At first, I thought she meant if they were ON a timer, and since all the lights to my knowledge are on a timer, I was a little confused and said something like “well, they’re all on timers already, so I’m not sure what you mean.

Then she said “Noooo, I mean if they displayed a countdown timer next to the light so you could see, like, how many seconds left before it turned yellow, and how long the yellow light was before it turned red.”

I must’ve looked like a cow presented with a new gate.  I had this dumbfounded look on my face because A) I can’t believe I misunderstood her question and B) holy cow (no reference to my look), that’s a darned good question.

Pretty quickly, I came to the conclusion that it would CUT DOWN on accidents. Here’s my reasoning:

  1. We already have “red-light cameras” – I’ve blogged about them before.
  2. Supposedly, when the light turns red, it snaps a pic and if the camera sees your car in the intersection going the wrong way at the wrong time, you automatically get a ticket.
  3. The timer would help people understand when to risk it and when not to.  I figure it would cut down on people trying to run the yellow so as not to get the ticket.

I also figure it would help efficiency.  You know how lots of people constantly distract themselves while at the red light?  They whip out their cell phone and look at pictures of nature there instead of looking out the window and getting distracted by it all around them.  Every once in a while, they look up at the light to see if it’s changed.
Well, if they looked up and saw the countdown timer, they’d be more likely to be ready for the green light.
Maybe, just maybe, people might also realize how much time they’re wasting sitting at red lights. Time keeps on tickin’ tickin’ tickin’ into the future.  Subconsciously they might instill the same awareness of time in their other activities.

 
We have some walk/don’t walk signs in Downtown Austin that have a timer on them.  

I personally find it helpful to know whether or not it’s ok to start crossing when it’s blinking.

What do you think?

October
22
2008
5:16 pm
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A couple days ago, Miss Britt wrote a great, thought-provoking post stating Healthcare is a Right.  My comment (#66) ended up being so long, I’m going to use it as my post today.

Go over there and read her post, then my comment, and feel free to jot your thoughts over there or over here.

I’m truly interested in your opinion.

I’ve been thinking about all the crap I hear on TV, radio, on emails, blogs, comments, smoke signals, and scratched in braille on the ATM keypad.  There’s spin, spin, spin.  Everywhere.

Today my frustration peaked when some knucklehead on the radio (see the spin creeping in already?) say “You know that Joe the Plumber guy? Well it turns out, he’s not even a licensed plumber.”

*Sigh.*

(see that spin I just put in? Cool, eh?  I sighed electronically, and hopefully your opinion is swayed my way).

Now, I’m smart enough to pose the question internally… so what if he’s not licensed?  Are plumbers even licensed?  Is he supposed to be licensed?  I know that code varies from state to state, and even county to county for lots of occupations.  For example, electricians – do you happen to know if you have to be licensed to be a Journeyman in your area to touch live wires?  In some places, you don’t.

But.  Even.  More.  Imporantly.  What the heck does any attribute about the questioner have to do with the actual question?  And, therefore, the subsequent answer?   It seems to me that the whole “Joe The Plumber” story is: Joe asked a hard question, Obama let it slip that he wants to redistribute wealth, so now people are going to attack Joe and try to discredit him somehow, and by inference, make Obama’s answer inconsequential. 

One of the sound bites even claimed “Joe’s not even his name.”  The guy’s name is Samual Joseph Wurzelbacher and goes by his middle name.  Hmm, I do that.  My middle name is Wayne.  Maybe Obama is jealous since if HE went by his middle name, he’d be… oh never mind.

Here’s a test I just made up.  Take the following sentence, and examine how it makes you feel when you read it.

While [the husband] was at a meeting at the Waldorf-Astoria at 4 p.m. Wednesday, [name] called room service and ordered lobster hors d’oeuvres, two whole steamed lobsters, Iranian caviar and champagne.  For all we know, campaign funds paid for this entire elite meal.

So here’s the question: if the “name” listed was Cindy McCain, does it make your blood boil?  What if it was Laura Bush?  Are you mad?  What if it was Lynne Cheney?

My point here is that the name (aka “target”) shouldn’t color the substance of the story.  The story is the story.  If you listen to some news story and it makes you mad, swap the “target” of the story with the name of someone you like.  Does the story still seem as bad? 

How about this sentence:

[name] pushed for increasing CHIP funding (Childrens’ Health Insurance Plan) by at least five billion dollars, but partisan opponents delayed the funding, causing millions of children to risk living without insurance.

Are you thinking about what name might go in there?  Do you think it’s Clinton?  Obama?  Ted Kennedy? 

Nope, it’s George W. Bush.

What kind of bias frustrates you the most?

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