PC or not PC

Hello World, Greetings again from the very tail-end of April, believe it or not, and just about ready to launch headlong into the merry, merry month of May already. Of course, this is a 3-sport time of year, when loyal fans can get hit with a lot of bad news from many different sides, and all at the same time, thanks not. In the hockey playoffs, the Rangers have had their hands full with the Flyers, as expected, but still not as bad as the vaunted Penguins with the scrappy Blue Jackets, which I'm sure nobody could have expected. And speaking of unexpected things ..... My plan to keep my ancient steam-powered computer running all the time so I wouldn't have trouble getting it started again, only worked up to a point, and that was Saturday when suddenly everything went completely ka-flooey (please excuse the technical jargon there) and nothing would work, not even shutting it down. I finally had to pull the plug, and my worst nightmares came to pass when, true to form, the whole thing seized up and wouldn't turn on again. There was much fruitless time wasted in wrestling with it, but no amount of threats, coaxing or logic achieved the desired effect. Big problem! Especially since I had a long laundry list of things I needed to use my computer for, and this really threw a monkey wrench into my plans - that is, if I was planning on laundering a monkey wrench in the first place. Naturally, Bill (who has the strength of 10 because his heart is pure) leapt to my rescue, and made heroic attempts to solve the problem, and you can believe me when I say that you know things are beyond saving when even our resident tech maven and his famously magic fingers are stymied in their efforts. Things seemed pretty bleak that first night, as the reality of the disaster sank in, and the loss of all my data weighed heavily on my mind. Especially since I had no one to blame but myself for the whole debacle, try as I might to pin it on some other nefarious evil doers, and I ought to know. At last a tiny light shone through the blackness, and I remembered that I still had a spare computer from work that I wasn't using, and it was not only running the same operating system as my dead computer, but already had some of the same programs loaded that I would need. I snatched it out of storage, plugged it in where the old one had been, turned it on, and - HOORAY! - Windows XP! I never thought I'd be so happy to see that splash screen ever again in my whole life! After that, I still had to tweak some things, and try to find if I had other versions of documents and files that I was missing, but it was still a lot better than having no working computer at all. Of course, re-installing software is always a hit-or-miss proposition, especially when it's 20-year-old ancient steam-powered programs that I use, like Lotus and WordPerfect, that started out in DOS, and just barely tolerated by Windows anymore. It always seems to be one step forward and two steps backwards in this sort of process, so that it either won't work when you install it, or if it does work, it makes something else stop working that had been working previously, thanks not. It's been a long-drawn-out undertaking and a nuisance ("Printer? I don't see any printers!") but at least it turns on and off when it's supposed to, so it's already an improvement over the old one right there. We're still hopeful that the data can be retrieved from the dead computer's hard drive, and we can put this whole sordid business behind us, and get things back on track like normal people, and not crazed zombies from the Computer Apocalypse. It's at times like this, you really appreciate how much it certainly helps to have a spare computer hanging around when you need one, by golly. So once again, I was able to join the rest of humanity online, and slog through the voluminous "mail" in my incoming, which is a job in itself. Now, a lot of it is not really mail, even though that's what the jolly AOL man calls it. (I'm really going to have a talk with him one of these days about what constitutes "mail.") All too much of it is really just notices from places like Sears, Amazon or Broderbund about new products or special discounts, or even worse spam for who knows what from who knows where. Anyway, sometimes when I sign on, I have so many messages that it takes forever to read through them, even if most of them are junk. Today I signed on and had practically no messages, and half of those were not real mail. I suppose that means that everyone is very busy with the upcoming holidays, like May Day and Cinco de Mayo. And a good thing, too. My other computer problem has nothing to do with technical aspects, it's where the computer is located. It's a wonder that I ever get anything accomplished when I'm in the living room, because her very own royal self, Princess Inky wants to be so much "help" (here I'm using that term in the most unhelpful sense of the word) that she makes it just about impossible to do any work. First she wants to sit right in front of the monitor so I can't see what I'm doing. When I try to move her, she walks on the keyboard. If I move her off to the side, she plays with the mouse. If I push her away from the mouse, she climbs behind the monitor and starts knocking things off the back of the cart, which pulls the cords out of the power strips and USB hubs. It seems like I spend all of my time jumping up and rescuing my peripherals from cat paws, and closing dialog warning boxes that Windows is tossing up on the screen to alert me of one calamity after another. By the time I get back to my seat, she has long since made her royal personage cozily at home on the chair cushion, and giving me one of those "don't tread on me" kind of glares that she has no intention of removing her majestic presence from the spot under any circumstances. I don't know about everyone else out there in the normal world, but it often makes me wonder if Bill Gates has these problems! Elle

Back To Back

Hello World, Well, I can tell you that nobody in the region wanted to open their window curtains earlier in the week, only to behold the prospect of a freak snowstorm that left an icy mess in the morning, and about as welcome as ants at a picnic, especially after the grueling winter that we've just about finished kicking to the curb at long last, thanks not. On the other hand, anyone who thinks that it's too cold or too early for dandelions, have I got news for you, and not just whistling Dixie, believe me. Their sunny yellow faces have popped up all over the driveway already, so the idea that it's too soon or too inhospitable, is apparently not a concept that has been embraced by our cheerful yellow intruders, that's for sure. Also not too soon, Holy Week started right on time with Palm Sunday, and continued apace with Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, so that tells us (well, at least most of us, except perhaps the godless Communists and KGB agents who are monitoring my email, whose name is legion, and then some) that Easter would be right around the corner, before you could say, "Peter Cottontail" and no time left for shilly-shallying. Passover showed up right on time as well on Monday night, and usually doesn't line up exactly on top of Holy Week, besides Eastern Orthodox Holy Week at the same time, so this has been a special convergence of all things in alignment that we rarely see. In fact, even the dates had gotten into the swing of things, which were numeric palindromes all during the week, and read the same forward or backward: 4/11/14, 4/12/14, 4/13/14, 4/14/14, 4/15/14, 4/16/14, 4/17/14, 4/18/14 and 4/19/14. Sometimes, you just don't know if you're coming or going around here. And speaking of going back in time, I'm sure that alert readers will be relieved to hear that my ancient steam-powered Palm PDA finally caught up with the rest of humanity, at least in terms of Daylight Saving Time, as it reached what used to be the old schedule for the switch-over, and adjusted the time accordingly at long last. Scoffers may indeed roll their eyes, and our old friends the dinosaurs may well disparage these outmoded gadgets that can't keep up with modern times, but you mark my words: That day will come when Congress is going to go right ahead and change the DST schedule all over again, and then all the very newest and latest technology is going to have exactly the same problem as the creakiest vestiges of yesteryear, and we'll end up right back where we started, by golly. We haven't seen the last of their tinkering, heaven knows - in fact, long after the sun has collapsed in on itself, and time and space have ceased to exist, the federal government will still be fiddling around with the confounded schedule for Daylight Saving Time, to the chagrin of extra-terrestrial aliens everywhere, I shouldn't wonder. Meanwhile in sports, the NHL and NBA have wrapped up their regular seasons, and the playoff picture has begun to take shape, with many of the expected clubs from previous seasons, and a few surprises tossed in for good measure. The Rangers may have exceeded expectations with their 45-31 record, good enough for second place in their division, although their 96 points gave no sleepless nights to Boston with 117, Anaheim with 116, Colorado with 112, or Pittsburgh with 109, I'm sure. The opening round pits New York against Philadelphia, and after that, barring any super-human heroics on the part of the Columbus Blue Jackets, the next round opponent would be the buzz-saw that is Pittsburgh, which is sort of like sending a donkey out to win the Triple Crown against the evil spirit of Affirmed, and would not be a pretty sight, I'm thinking. On the hardwood side of things, the Knicks missed the playoffs this year, so it will be the Nets playing for Big Apple pride, and here again, if they get past Toronto in the first round, they run smack into Miami in the next, and I frankly don't care for their chances all that much. And that's without the evil spirit of Affirmed, although I wouldn't rule it out either. Of course, there's been no lack of controversy about the government mandated health insurance initiative, and plenty of loyal support and vigorous opposition from every aspect of the political spectrum, industry insiders, media pundits and the disparate citizenry on all sides, and no end in sight, by all appearances. But all of that didn't stop a local Nissan dealer from cashing in on its current notoriety, with their promise of financing flexibility, manufacturer incentives and dealer discounts, which they described as their acclaimed Affordable Car Act, and I thought that was so funny. And after all, it's bound to be more popular than the real thing, although it can't be denied that it would be just about impossible to be less so, at this point, so that's not much of an accomplishment, I don't mind saying. In other media news, we carved some time out of our busy schedules to catch up with the #1 movie in the nation's theaters, "Captain America and the Winter Soldier," which we were prepared to enjoy in glorious IMAX 3-D, and hang the expense, my good man. It was the only time we can recall in recent memory that we weren't the only people in the entire theater, and it had already been out for 2 weeks, so that tells you something right there. We had no reason to think we wouldn't like it, since we liked the first one, as well as others cast from the same mold, such as "Iron Man," "The Avengers," and "Thor." Unfortunately, this one didn't exactly measure up to our expectations, and was not everything we might have hoped for. Bill found the 3-D rendering much too blurry to watch, and also way too loud, pretty much from one end to the other. I was disappointed in the story, and thought it was overly dark and sinister, especially for the usual Marvel Studio features, which tend to be more light-hearted swashbucklers than nihilistic political thrillers. The special effects are always spectacular nowadays, but I felt that these were too overwhelming and explosive to be really effective as part of the narrative, which made the movie seem longer and more tedious than it should have been. The interaction between the characters was too stiff and disjointed to save it, and the worst part, at least for me, was that it didn't have the Marvel signature epilogue at the very tail-end of the interminable credits, that always harkens back to a previous story, or serves as a harbinger of an upcoming one. It must be said that the studio needs no help from me, since the movie broke box office records all over the place, and obviously was wildly popular enough as it was, whatever we might have thought of its shortcomings. On the plus side, the personal pan pizza is always a treat, and something we look forward to, regardless of how the movie turns out, which is all too often a sad commentary on Hollywood, alas. At least they're not also in charge of the concessions, thank heaven, or besides being saddled with terrible movies, we'd be stuck choking down inedible snacks like reheated Tarzan popcorn, rehashed Godzilla nachos, and reconstituted Frankenstein gummy bears, which no amount of 3-D special effects would be able to salvage, and that's not just the Raisinets talking, believe me. Elle

Play On

Hello World, Well, the time has surely come, as indeed it must, when the calendar has rolled around once again to the cats' all-time favorite day of the church year, namely, Palm Sunday, and not a moment too soon. Of course, palms could be fun at any time, but there's definitely something about the scent of fresh palms that will turn even the most world-weary couch-puss into a high-flying kitty acrobat at a stroke. Fortunately, no one among our feline population is of the Eastern Orthodox persuasion, so they don't have to wait around as the Greeks and their ilk lag behind the rest of Christianity until Holy Week gets underway, bringing up the rear as it usually does, year in and year out. It happens that the holidays line up together this year, which isn't often the case, so cats of all nations can play with their palms simultaneously, regardless of their differing locations or religious affiliations. I'm happy to get on board in the spirit of inter-denominational camaraderie, but frankly, the petitions to change the name to Paws Sunday instead, I thought were just way too much. On the local front, we had several warm days here, and were suddenly confronted with the spectacle of a veritable explosion of daffodils all over the yard, from the creamiest of whites and the brightest of yellows, all the way to the fieriest of oranges and back again, like waves of beauty pageant contestants in extravagant gowns all trying to outdo each other. Also popping open were rambunctious bunches of wind flowers, anemone blanda, glory of the snow, hyacinths, and even the scattered remnants of blue squill, as if determined to prove that Old Man Winter hadn't gotten the best of them, with all the tricks up his sleeve. I spotted buds on the magnolia, and we all know that nobody has to ask the forsythia twice to put on a show. Heck, at this rate, can rampant alien mutant poison ivy be far behind? I think not! Speaking of rest and relaxation at last, anyone who hasn't been living under a rock for the last decade can tell you that there is certainly no lack of computer games for their phones, and my iPhone is no different, with the likes of Bejeweled Blitz, Boggle, Bookworm, Candy Crush and WordSearch, as well as Fix-it Felix, Mah Jongg, retro pinball, word jumble, and a few others just for the heck of it. Recently I was trying out a new game that I was not familiar with, and in my fledgling efforts to understand the rules, very quickly found out that I was not fast enough to succeed with the tasks at hand, and was summarily timed out of the first level before I ever got started. Frankly, I thought this was ignominious enough as it was, only to be greeted next with this ridiculously flamboyant screen: ====================================== CONGRATULATIONS! You formed 0 words - A new high total! You scored 0 points - A new high score! Do you want to share this with your friends? ====================================== Here I'm thinking, with accomplishments like these, I don't dare hope to impress anyone out there in the wilds of cyberspace with my brilliant mind or linguistic mastery, not by any means. I'm sure everyone will be relieved to hear that the game very helpfully keeps track of my stats, so I can be reminded of this dubious achievement any time that I'm feeling a little too competent for my own good. Maybe playing with palms is more my speed after all. In fact, it reminded me of the time at work that I needed to date-stamp some requisitions that just arrived in the mail, and set out for what we always referred to as "the little salespersons room" with single-minded purpose and a full head of steam - only to find myself at my destination, holding the papers in my hand, and for the life of me, standing before the water cooler, of all places, with no idea what I was doing there, and a blank slate where my brain should have been. I think it was the same week that I very resolutely carried an empty cup out of my office for some water, and instead found myself in a different room entirely, standing in front of the copier for some reason, with that same blank look of a merry wanderer led astray by their poor addled brain cells, such as they were. Just at a guess, I would have to figure it was going to take a lot longer to get water out of the copier, rather than the water cooler for instance - a concept which would have been flagrantly obvious to the most wayward schoolchild, but somehow eluded me at that moment like the most complicated conundrum that had stumped the greatest minds of the modern world. There would be a joke in here somewhere if I was blonde, which appears not to be the case on the outside of my head, but frankly, it's the inside that I'm starting to worry about, and with good reason, believe me. Speaking of modern technology, or rather just the opposite, my age-old steam-powered PC in the living room finally reached the point where after it was turned off, it didn't seem to want to turn back on again, and one day it took 45 minutes to get it up and running - with the additional drawback that it was still Lent, so using disreputable language was out of the question, no matter how well-suited to the occasion it might have been, and I ought to know. At that point, I decided to just leave it turned on all the time, and at least eliminate the rebooting problem right from the start. I can certainly understand now why the tech mavens have been recommending this idea all along, because it has dramatic advantages over the old way, and that's not just a lot of terabytes and megahertz, by golly. Since the computer is always going, all you have to do is just walk right up and start using it - no dawdling around waiting for it to slog through its entire start-up sequence, before you can do anything, or close the myriad dialog boxes about updates, settings, threats or revisions, that it thinks are so much more important than letting you get on with what you want to do, thanks not. Suddenly it behaves a lot more like a smartphone, where you can just pick it up and start using it immediately with a swipe of your finger, without being held hostage by all the extraneous folderol the operating system wants to do first. I realize now that I honestly could have saved years of my life if I had done this sooner, rather than waiting countless hours for untold computer to finally boot up, especially in the bad old days when the processors were not only slow but balky besides. Personally, this is my idea of a boon to mankind, and a revolutionary approach to computers that finally drags their usefulness, albeit kicking and screaming, right into the 21st century and beyond, at least for me. Now, it must be said that it might not help me play games any better than I ever did before, but then again, with high scores of zero as it is, it appears that it would be hard to get any worse, I dare say. Elle

Wrong Way

Hello World, Happy April! I certainly do hope that the weather in your little corner of Paradise has improved by now, in fact, considerably so, if that needs to be the case. It has finally warmed up just a smidgen (please excuse the technical nomenclature there) in the local area, and even managed to stop snowing for the time being - although it must be said that there are still lumbering hulks of piled-up snowbanks on the edges of parking lots everywhere, serving as unwelcome and dismal reminders of a very long hard winter that untold millions of us would rather forget, believe me. After March roared out like a lion on Monday, April roared right in on Tuesday, and immediately started stirring up mischief. Anyone who was online that day in the wonderful wide world of cyberspace, might have noticed banner ads and pictures from the confectionary giant, Mars, for their new line of M&M candies flavored with bacon, of all things. (At our house, we file stories like this under the category of "This Is Why The Terrorists Hate Us," and with good reason.) To be fair, it turned out later that there is no such thing as bacon M&Ms, and it was just an April Fool's Day prank by their parent company, helped along its merry way by the billions of bystanders along the information superhighway, who posted and re-posted the bogus tidbit all over FaceBook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Pinterest, Tumblr, Instagram, Google Plus, Flickr, Yelp, and just about every blog that's out there in the wild blue yonder and even beyonder. It was actually pretty funny for a huge operation like Mars, especially given the whole bacon craze lately, and it certainly got everyone's attention all over the Internet, which is about the best kind of free publicity that anybody could ask for. Speaking of pranks, it may have been an early one that afflicted our church liturgy on March 30th, when the opening hymn was displayed on the projector screen as "Rejoice, O Pilgrim Thong," which unfortunately conjures up a whole host of unsavory connotations and unappealing mental images, try as hard as you might to ruthlessly suppress them a-borning, and I ought to know. One supposes that the errant slide was purportedly pointing us in the direction of an old standby in the Lutheran Book of Worship, which would be hymn #553 "Rejoice, O Pilgrim Throng," and never mentions underwear at any point, I can assure you. Like bacon M&Ms, some things are just not meant to be, and to say this is not one of them would be putting it mildly, Pilgrim. Meanwhile in sports, after years of trying to turn him into the face of their franchise, the New York Jets finally cut ties with quarterback Mark Sanchez, whose unpredictable ways after signing the biggest contract in team history, would make nobody forget the glory years of Joe Namath, or heck, even Vinny Testaverde. He was promptly snapped up by Philadelphia (and here I mean, the NFL Eagles, and not the Warriors, the legendary women's roller derby team of the same city, although I'm sure his size would be considered an asset to their efforts along the railing, I shouldn't wonder) and we can only go ahead and wish him more success with his new team than the way things turned out with Gang Green. For their part, the Jets management apparently went collectively insane, and somehow came up with the bone-headed decision to sign Michael Vick (formerly with Atlanta and Philadelphia, and once again, not the women's roller derby teams) as if that would miraculously solve all of their problems. Even die-hard Jets fans long resigned to decades of disappointment and failure, greeted this announcement with the stricken anguish of a drowning man who has been handed an anvil in the place of a life preserver, and I can't say that I blame them one bit. It should be interesting times ahead in the swamps of East Rutherford, and somewhere off in the netherworld, the evil spirit of Affirmed is having a great big laugh, I dare say. In other sports news, Opening Day for major league baseball was on Monday in many cities across the northern hemisphere, giving their loyal fans reason to cheer - if not that very day, at least with the hope of 160-odd other opportunities throughout the bright shiny new season unfolding before them. It came as an unwelcome surprise when the Mets and the Yankees both lost their openers in inauspicious fashion, with the hapless Mets going on to be swept by the Nationals, while the Yanks at least managed to salvage one win out of their inaugural series. Even at this early point in the season, only Detroit remains undefeated, although the LA Dodgers have the best record at 4-1 so far. It goes without saying that the hometown faithful can't help but hope this is not a harbinger of things to come, and that their pinstripe heroes will soon right the ship and start facing into the true course of glory days ahead. Of course, Da Bombers always manage to be in the thick of things, in spite of obstacles, and we can count on Derek Jeter's swan song season to be no different, if only for the sake of pride. On the other hand, while I would tend to dismiss the likelihood that the Mets record would wind up at 0-162 at the end of the year, I still can't say that I care for their chances all that much, considering that I have only ever heard of about a half-dozen of their current players, and 3 pitchers, out of the entire 40-man roster. Frankly, I wonder if it might not be a much better idea to cut their losses at this point, pick up the entire club and just go off and join the local women's roller derby league instead. You heard it here first, folks. On an unrelated baseball note, alert readers may recall a previous week, that mentioned former pitcher Tommy John, and the surgery named in his honor. Here's another little bit of tantalizing trivia on the subject: ================================== In the middle of the 1974 season, his record was 13-3 with the Dodgers before his elbow injury would require surgery that would keep him out for the entire 1975 season. Nobody expected him to be able to come back and pitch successfully after that, but he returned to the Dodgers in 1976, going 10-10 that year, which was considered "miraculous" at the time. In fact, he went on to pitch until 1989, winning 164 games after his surgery — forty more than his record before, and one fewer than all-time great Sandy Koufax won in his entire career. After Phil Niekro's retirement, John spent 1988 and 1989 as the oldest player in the major leagues, and set a record for most seasons played with 26 in his career. John decided it was time to call it quits in 1989, when Mark McGwire got two hits off him. McGwire's father was John's dentist. John said of his decision, "When your dentist's kid starts hitting you, it's time to retire!" ==================================== Ya gotta love it! On the local scene, Bill and I have been fighting our way back to the land of the living, after being reduced to germ-infested zombies for the past couple of weeks, and there are several hopeful indications of actual human-like characteristics resurfacing, that we had all but given up for lost. These would include not only taste and smell, hearing and the ability to focus on anything, but also getting out of bed and being able to move around like a normal modern person in the civilized world, not some clumsy prehistoric beast suddenly roused from its ancient slumbers, its motor skills too long out of use and creaking with age. Lately, whole minutes sometimes go by without coughing, and our runaway consumption of juice, lozenges, pain killers, and tissues has dropped off significantly, compared to the previous dark days. At this rate, I expect we should be back to some semblance of normality in another few weeks, barring any further setbacks, which will certainly be a welcome change, I can tell you that. Of course, I have no idea what we're going to do with the clumsy prehistoric beasts at that point, although I understand that the Mets are still looking for help in their bullpen, so it might not be a total loss after all. Failing that, I suppose there's always women's roller derby, but let's face it, that would be wrong on so many levels. Elle

Sick And Tired

Greetings, One and All! Unfortunately, Bill and I came back from our celebration weekend at Foxwoods and immediately fell victim to the same galloping cruds that have already befallen everyone else in the region, and I can tell you that it was not a pretty sight, not by any means. In fact, it's at times like this that I can't help but wonder, if they can put a man on the moon, why can't they just go ahead and put all the politicians there? No, wait a minute, that can't be right somehow. I think what I mean is, in this day and age with every technological miracle at our very fingertips, why in the name of Hippocrates can't they do anything about the so-called common cold, and spare all of us this unwelcome opportunity to build character through suffering along with the rest of humanity? I think perhaps the great Ogden Nash said it best, and we have our friends at www.poemhunter.com to thank for sharing his unflinching insights with us today. ====================================== Common Cold Go hang yourself, you old M.D.! You shall not sneer at me. Pick up your hat and stethoscope, Go wash your mouth with laundry soap; I contemplate a joy exquisite I'm not paying you for your visit. I did not call you to be told My malady is a common cold. By pounding brow and swollen lip; By fever's hot and scaly grip; By those two red redundant eyes That weep like woeful April skies; By racking snuffle, snort, and sniff; By handkerchief after handkerchief; This cold you wave away as naught Is the damnedest cold man ever caught! Give ear, you scientific fossil! Here is the genuine Cold Colossal; The Cold of which researchers dream, The Perfect Cold, the Cold Supreme. This honored system humbly holds The Super-cold to end all colds; The Cold Crusading for Democracy; The Führer of the Streptococcracy. Bacilli swarm within my portals Such as were ne'er conceived by mortals, But bred by scientists wise and hoary In some Olympic laboratory; Bacteria as large as mice, With feet of fire and heads of ice Who never interrupt for slumber Their stamping elephantine rumba. A common cold, gadzooks, forsooth! Ah, yes. And Lincoln was jostled by Booth; Don Juan was a budding gallant, And Shakespeare's plays show signs of talent; The Arctic winter is fairly coolish, And your diagnosis is fairly foolish. Oh what a derision history holds For the man who belittled the Cold of Colds! ~~ Ogden Nash With thanks to www.poemhunter.com