Friday, July 30, 2010

FAKING MY WAY THRU CYBERSPACE...
...it's a "Dandruff Post"...off the top of my head...
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SIR PAUL McCARTNEY AT THE WHITE HOUSE: PBS showed some of that program a little while ago, and I can't help but think, that this music has come of age, over and over and over again. This time around, President Obama and others participated in the rousing "Na-Na-Na-Na" chorus of "Hey Jude". That just absolutely boggles my mind. Who would've thought, "A Beatle At The White House" thirty or forty years ago? And it came to pass. It won't be that much longer before Macca turns 70, and that boggles my mind too. Part of me has long thought that he's a money-grubbing so and so, who just has to be out there making millions of dollars to add to the quadrazillions of dollars he always will have. But I also have to realize that in order to keep doing what he's doing, he is ultra-talented and something special, really. He's 68 now; his voice is still strong and has almost as much range as it did All Those Years Ago, and the songs are timeless. It's truly been a Long And Winding Road.
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CLOSED: THE CASE OF THE MISSING EYEGLASSES: If you've read this blog lately, you know that I had some trouble getting eyeglasses made by a local optical shop. Mucho problemas. I had paid them $700, a lot of that in advance, and after myriad eye examinations and three new pair of glasses, with none of them working out for me, they signed off on me: They gave me All Of My Money Back. Really. Talk about being shocked and stunned. They said they just couldn't come up with a workable prescription for me. They couldn't cut me a pair of lenses. Ironically, when I went into the shop that day, I was wearing a pair of no-line bifocals that I bought almost 10 years ago. And they're working just fine for me. So maybe I didn't need new glasses after all? Was the 'force' with me? I don't know, but it sure is strange the way things work out sometimes. I do have a sneaking suspicion they wanted to get rid of me and were glad to see me go. It's either that or me just being paranoid.
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NOT THE WAY I'D WANT TO LEAVE THIS PLANET: I barely remember this; I got the info from a newspaper two or three weeks back, but I'll do my best. There was some firm, some business that 'this guy' worked for, I guess, in a janitorial capacity, and one day he came up missing. Nobody knew where he'd gone. They searched everywhere, and 'nothing'. He was gone, and that was that. They finally consulted all of the security cameras posted in various places around the business, and the last anyone saw of him, on videotape, he was tossing some garbage into a dumpster, and after that, no more Video of him. He ended up falling Into a Trash Compacter. He was probably crushed into a neat little one-foot-square that doesn't take up much room at all. Perhaps he was automatically tied and bundled? That's not the way I'd wanna go...
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THE SAGA OF THE 2010 SEATTLE MARINERS: I'm one of those fans who Live and Die with the Seattle Mariners. The M's aren't on life-support yet, but they're close. The season is already half over. A full season has 162 games. Most of the division leaders usually end up winning between 80 and 100 games. This year's Mariners are ALREADY more than 20 games behind the division leader. The Mariners are, or seem to be, stuck at 39 wins. Yep, they haven't even won forty games this year. Pitchers have been melting down, the baserunning has been purely awful, and one of the team's starting pitchers has only won ONE game, while losing at least ten games, if not more. There are some who've ventured that perhaps Seattle's team has been playing on old Native American burial grounds or something, and that's gotta explain it. The Seattle Mariners are Haunted. What else could it be? Heck, that makes as much sense as anything else. And conversely, some players have escaped Seattle's clutches, and are doing better with the teams they're with now. So maybe there is life after death, or at least, life without Seattle...
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THE NEW COMPUTER AND HOW I'M DOING WITH IT: It's running Windows Vista. Everyone keeps saying how bad Vista is, but I haven't experienced it. Not yet, anyway. Tonight I was posting some music into files, and that function seems to be Easier with Vista. I also run free programs, such as the Comodo Firewall, and "Ccleaner" (which used to stand for Crap Cleaner but we can't call it that in these politically-correct times). "Ccleaner" can do a quick scan, or you can select the "Wipe Free Space" function that scours out your little corner of cyberspace. It also cleans the Registry which makes startup functions a bit easier and faster. So before you spend megabucks trying to fix your computer, know that you can Google such shameless searches such as "free firewall" or "free registry cleaner" and find there's lots of free places out there. I've downloaded a lot from "filehippo.com", for instance. One Important Thing: Stay out of Chat Rooms...they can infect your computer instantly. It happened to me last night. My computer began behaving funny, and my firewall got shut down by a virus. So I shut down the infected firewall, deleted it, and then downloaded it again so I'd have a clean copy, and then downloaded a free Windows Malware program. Malware is worse than Spyware. It's that bad.
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So, you may wonder, what do I snack on while I'm online much more than I need to or should be? Why, the answer is simple: A heapin' helpin' of barbecued Computer Chips. CRUNCH!!!

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

CONSIDER YOURSELF CULTURED...
...I humbly present "A Study In Useless Beach Furniture..."
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It all started when I went to the beach the other day. Sometimes folks will just leave unwanted items on the beach, guessing that perhaps the tide will rise up and carry those items out to sea. Most photo or painting expositions feature at least a few entries where the artist/photographer has focused their attention on, such as an ugly pot or vase. So why can't I do that, too? Let me humbly present my first-ever Study Of A Useless Object...I call this photo, "Beach Chair Out In The Middle Of Nowhere"...
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I daresay this chair has seen its better days. Here, it's sitting by a fire pit someone had ignited the night before. I can't figure it out, however; rather than going home where it's warm, they'd rather drive out to the beach, where they can light a fire, pretending it's warming them up, but most likely, shivering and not wanting the others to know that he/she is Actually Cold. Damp air after the Sun Goes Down always equals "BRRRRR."
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Actually, I'm surprised someone didn't rip off the fabric and toss it into the Beach Fire for kicks. Regarding the usage of wooden pallets for a beach fire, I've been told that it's not a good idea to bring Pallets to burn, 'cos there's nails in them that get left behind. A rusty nail in the bottom of the foot really isn't very much fun. So I've included a Public Service Announcement within this Photo Exhibition! Vote for ME! So without further adieu, let me present "Beach Chair That's Obviously Seen Better Days"...
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I'd actually thot about taking the chair home with me, but since I'm a total klutz and can't hammer a nail or screw in a screw without gashing myself, it was a case of 'neverrrr-mind" Whenever I try to repair something, I've been told I have the "blacksmith's touch". Better for me to rip the item apart then try to fix it... less disappointment that way. My advice to those using these kind of chairs: They're designed to only have One Person Sitting In Them At A Time. R-r-r-rip!!!!!
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I'd headed to the beach for a stroll, walking stick in hand. I've found that walking uphill on unpacked sand feels similar to using one of those stair-stepper exercise machines. No, I haven't tackled the nearby dunes; I'm just talking about getting From Beach To Car.
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This was taken mid-afternoon; I call this photo "Chair Which Hasn't Been Moved Yet" (As if this blog was close to anything approaching any kind of art). The tide is going out obviously, but when high tide comes around, it rises to just about where the chair is. The chair, a couple of days later, is gone, so perhaps my theory of Beach Junk Washing Away with the tide is spot-on.
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So I'd gone walking up the beach, enjoying the soothing cool breeze and all the birds flying around, and after a couple of hours on the beach, I always feel better. Beach Therapy, for sure. I was heading back to the car when I remembered the Beach Chair and wanted to see if it was still there...and yeah, it was, so may I present "Tattered Chair Waiting For Someone To Take It Home which obviously hadn't happened yet." (What can I say; I like long titles.)
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So consider yourself as culturally advanced after enduring what could be called, "My First Photo Study Of A Totally Useless Object In Decrepid Condition". No one wanted to fix it. Ain't that the way it is, though; as long as you're useful and are helpful in assisting someone achieve what they were trying to do, ya don't get cast aside. But the minute you become useless, you get tossed aside and left on the beach to get swept out to sea by the high tide.
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Finally...I've bought a refurbished Toshiba Satellite 'L5000' computer. It's three times as powerful as my old machine (See previous post, below this one), and it cost over a hundred bucks LESS. It's got Windows Vista, which is fairly simple to use, although I'm wondering, how to locate the photos I've Uploaded...XP made things simple that way. Vista is trying to drive me crazy. I think it's succeeding.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

THE COMPUTER MIMICKS LIFE...
...but it ain't ready to die just yet...
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Over the last few years, I've been posting these blog entries using a primitive little HP dv6000 laptop computer. And it's been a good computer, although it was outdated the day I bought it, replaced by a laptop which had more memory. Kinda like buying a car; it depreciates the minute you drive it off the lot. Along with what's known as the "tail-light guarantee", in which the dealer guarantees your car until he can't see your tail-lights anymore as you drive away. Actually, though, HP has provided me with good customer support, although their computer tech help sometimes is really difficult to understand, especially if the tech person is working in a sweatshop in India or The Philippines or wherever they are. I've spoken English all my life, but there's no way I can talk in such rapid-fire bursts as they tend to do.
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But this post is about my poor little computer. No, it doesn't look quite as bad as the picture might indicate, but lately it's begun showing symptoms of old age and overuse. It began when some of my number keys stopped working. That's really a hassle, since the ever-important "@" key on the "2" began dysfunctioning; that symbol, of course is used in all Web Addresses, and without it yer sunk. And the Number keys are important if you have numbers in your passwords or web addresses. Things got so bad last week that I posted/pasted a bunch of numbers, as well as my e-mail addresses and other number-combinations I frequently use in my e-mail inbox. Every time I used a number, I copied it off the web after which I'd paste that number into my e-mail and then copy and paste it back into whatever I was trying to do. I'd have to copy and paste things several times in order just to type someone's E-mail name. Bah. All of a sudden It Was Work. It would take half me half an hour to address an e-mail if the person's screen name contained numbers.
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Then, my computer Lost Its Identity. It didn't know who it was anymore, or where it resided. In short, my Internet Tinker-Toy couldn't connect with my wireless modem! All of the numbers were coming up as 0.0.0.0, and it couldn't match its pre-established numerical web address. As a result, this computer was about as useless as the average person's appendix or little toe. And THEN, I couldn't get the doggone thing to turn on! Or, if it turned on, it would go immediately to an HP digital player page that would shut me off once again. And then it would take me half an hour to turn it back on! One such time, I hit the "F8" button which took me into some sort of set-up thing, but still, no progress was being made. Now that I'm online again, I suppose I could call Tech Support to reconfigure this machine so the wireless web address will match my IP number, but I just can't face doing that right now. Especially if the tech support person is in India or the Philippines.
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Finally after two days of contemplating whether or not to toss this computer from the highest cliff above the ocean I could find, it hit me: "There are, you know, other ways to connect to the internet! You have CABLES and CABLE INPUTS! Try THAT!" Bingo, the light bulb in my vast empty skull switched on, and yea verily, upon employment of the little sinister-looking yellow 'ethernet' cable, I was once again able to go online, so I could keep depositing cyberspace trash (of which this post is a good example) for the forseeable future. So I am now tied to an umbilical cord of sorts. Instead of being a fancy-free computer that could operate most anywhere in a wi-fi zone, now it is tied down to a cord and it can't go anywhere, although it still has at least some life left in it. But I'm afraid to turn it off; it might not come back to life again. So I'll gently close the lid after posting, and the computer can hibernate 'till the next time I need it.
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After all of the above, I began thinking that 'The Computer Mimics Life'. After all, we're born, we get wiser, we do some dumb stuff along the way, and when we reach old age, our capabilities diminish; it takes extra effort to wake up, and stay awake, and things we do hurt more than they used to. Well, Laptop Computers are manufactured, they leave the plant, someone buys them, they're programmed and filled chock-full of bits and bytes, and it will work just about anywhere you take it. But as it ages, the characters get worn off the keys, you have to pound the computer keys with jackhammer-force just to type a "1" or an "@", and finally it can't receive signals anymore, so it ends up on its last legs, tied to an Ethernet cord until it crashes, burns and dies.
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Finally, my computer has one more symptom, and this one's ironic in that I cannot hear anything on the internet including the stuff I've posted in the left margin of this blog. The speakers have fallen silent. I haven' t found a way to make this better. Help!

Saturday, July 03, 2010

GOOOOOOOAAAAAAALLLLLLLL.............
...I'm not gonna watch Soccer, and You Can't Make Me...
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I remember feeling this way back in the 'eighties' when the Compact Disc was first unleashed on the public. Nope, not me...I was gonna stick to my guns and buy vinyl until such time when it wasn't made anymore. Well, shortly after CD's initially came about, Vinyl just kinda disappeared. I remember first hearing about CD's, and way back then I thot, "if anything can replace records, it's gonna be CD's". And soon it came to pass. And Vinyl became harder to find than rollerskates in King Tut's tomb. I hung on, though; each time a new release came out by My Favorite Artists, I'd go to the CD store--formerly Record Store--and dutifully place my order with the clerk. Just about the only way I could get a new album on vinyl was to stay on top of release dates, meaning I'd have to hear about it in the newspaper or online, and place my order as soon as I could. And a multi-million selling CD might have a vinyl run of about twenty-five thousand copies, so I'd have to be on top of it.
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Well, so it goes with Soccer. All of a sudden it's invaded our culture trying to become a sport with Massive Popularity. Soccer is here. Doggone it, I absolutely hate watching a soccer game. Any sport that doesn't let you use your arms or hands is just Odd in my book. As a result, you've got two soccer teams playing each other, and let's face it, there's only so much precision to be had by only using your feet. As a result, the ball is here, the ball there, and it's being kicked around the field by the Soccer Teams who, if they can't find a ball to kick, they kick each other. And a full hour can go by, and perhaps one or two goooooooaaaaaallllls are scored, and that's it. And, soccer is becoming so popular that ESPN commentators all of a sudden are complaining about 'the way the game is played'. The announcer on one such ESPN broadcast was griping about 'penalty kicks', which come about by various fouls committed by a player, or two, or twenty-seven. After the match is done one team gets to kick the ball, where it's placed twenty feet in front of a goal that's perhaps fifteen feet wide, and only the goalie, who can use his hands, gets to defend. Just the goalie. When you have a guy with a six-foot arm span, defending a goal that's twenty-feet wide, most of the time the poor beleaguered goalie is gonna miss, after which the winning team can then leave the field and go up into the stands and start fights with the crowd. So Soccer Is becoming a new National Pastime. That's the fault of Mothers Across The Nation who drag their little brats to soccer games. And Sarah Palin is a soccer mom, which was probably just the shot the soccer proponents and athletic stores needed. But in the photo at left, she's trying to remember which ball goes to what sport. Think, Sarah, Think...

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Most nights, right after the Baseball game is, it's all-soccer, all-of-the-time, running helter-skelter and wiggledy-piggledy in the pursuit of the World Cup. What you get in a soccer game is running, running, and more running. In no particular direction. I'm sure there are various strategies employed in a soccer game, but again, there's only so much precision there can be if the players can't use their hands since the hands have quite a lot more dexterity than the feet. As proof: I can't type with my feet. So there. The Soccer Goalies do get to use their hands, which is great because forty or fifty players are bearing down on him, kicking each other as well as the ball, but being a goalie has to fall just short of facing a Firing Squad. My argument is that Man was born with HANDS. Man was made to use his hands. Which means that any living, breathing armless animal, such as a pack of Rhinos, could be placed on the field with a soccer ball, and the results would be about the same as with World-Class Soccer players. The old joke goes something like this: "If you can't find the ball to kick, just kick someone else". Just like with the CD's I mentioned above, I've got 'this feeling' about soccer...it's coming, no one can stop it, so Get Used To It; it's here. But it's such a difficult sport to watch.
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But there's another sport out there that Might Just Have A Chance to be really entertaining, and that sport would be RUGBY. Rugby is like pro football--American Football, that is. Except that all the Rugby players do is run, run, run all over the place; no stopping the clock between plays, and the ball can either be kicked or thrown. Yep, that's right. You can use yer hands in Rugby. In a Rugby match, two teams consisting of a whole bunch of players take the ball up and down the field to try and reach the "end zone". And, there are no Goalies in Rugby. And no shoulder pads, either. So these Rugby guys could really hurt each other. Yeah, Get With It...Let's see some ACTION...
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In the short portion of the Rugby match I watched, several ggggoooooaaaaaaallllllls were scored and the game moved along pretty fast. And the players themselves seem to resemble 'just us regular folks'. No precision timing for a fifty-yard pass, no 'illegal formations', they can make a forward pass and not have to worry about it being legal or not. A Rugby game is like two street gangs defending their respective territories, only without switchblades and sub-machine guns. Rugby players are not graceful runners, either, they rumble up and down the field trying to catch the guy with the ball, and they can knock him down, step on his face, and there are rugby players all over the place...piling on this guy, trying to rip the ball out of his arms. Hopefully the downed player can spot one of his team-mates and somehow try to get the ball to him. It's not graceful, it's not refined and I can imagine Rugby Players have difficulty getting Life Insurance.
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This sport, Rugby, is a sport that I could watch without being dragged, kicking and screaming, tied up and plopped down on the floor in front of the TV. In the short portion I saw, several scores had been made and I think the outcome was something like twenty-two to seventeen, somewhere in there. I can imagine the Rugby TV-watching Experience could only be enhanced by all kinds of salty snack foods, several sixpacks of cheap beer and hot DiGiorno pizzas. "This has got to be a delivered pizza". "Nope, it's Digiorno". "Delivered." "NOT delivered". "DELIVERED, DAMMIT ", after which both protagonists knock each other to the floor, and all of their buddies pile on top of the Guy With The Pizza. Hmmm...I think I've invented a new sport here.
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Finally, yes I know that Soccer Players also get to use their heads. Ouch. That's gotta hurt. And remember you've got brain tissue on the inside of your skull. Me, I'll use my head in another way. I 'think' I'll try to find a baseball game to watch...