Iron Fist

I remember once my physics lab partner pointed me to a site that was a compilation of “stupid user” anecdotes. I remember that at the head of the page was a quote from Charles Babbage, proto-computer scientist:

On two occasions I have been asked, ‘Pray, Mr. Babbage, if you put into the machine wrong figures, will the right answers come out?’ I am not able rightly to apprehend the kind of confusion of ideas that could provoke such a question.

The machine he makes reference to is his famous Difference Engine. I always found this hysterical, because it meant that what we in the biz kindly refer to as “user error” actually predated the invention of the computer.

Still, most of the time, most people I know are fairly capable when it comes to using computers, especially once I allow for the fact that not everyone is a computer scientist or is otherwise a complete nerd. Then every once in a while someone has to come along and remind me that those users are still out there.

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It’s just funny. Trust me.

Dinner With My Girlfriend’s Parents

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No, I’m serious. What’s the big deal? Why the fuck are we all expected to like this guy, much less love him, as the title of the series implies we’re supposed to. I don’t get what this show is supposed to be all about. Ray Romano just isn’t that funny. The rest of his family: vaguely funny, mostly the dad and the older brother. The kids: what the fuck is their deal? They aren’t even part of the show. They’re just trotted out now and again when the writers decide they’re going to be part of the current episode. Other than that, they’re never around. I suppose this might be the appeal of the show to the average suburbanite, who I’ve learned wants to have a bunch of kids but doesn’t want to actually deal with them, so they’re expected to stay out of sight most of the time, drugged up or given something shiny to distract them with.

I’ve tried hard to like this show, although I have no idea why I’m supposed to, other than the vague feeling that I should due to the imperative in the title. I mean, if everybody loves Raymond, you’re kind of an outsider and an asshole if you don’t, right?

Screw it. I’m sticking to Seinfeld re-runs. At least those were amusing.

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Bush on the Constitution: ‘It’s just a goddamned piece of paper’

“I don’t give a goddamn,” Bush retorted. “I’m the President and the Commander-in-Chief. Do it my way.”

“Mr. President,” one aide in the meeting said. “There is a valid case that the provisions in this law undermine the Constitution.”

“Stop throwing the Constitution in my face,” Bush screamed back. “It’s just a goddamned piece of paper!”

Man. What a dick.

Really, this is just one more reason why I need to be in charge of things around here. Seriously, dudes, if it was me running this country? Goddamn.

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Freshly returned from running four miles on Wednesday night, my sister decreed we should have pizza for dinner. “Just order some,” she said, tossing some money my way.

And so Bellagio’s it was that night.

The next morning I made ready to go to work again, and grabbed a slice of cold pizza to accompany my breakfast. At work, where I was hanging out in a room full of credit cards just in case something went catastrophically wrong, I remembered that it had been decided the previous day that we would order pizza for lunch. Never one to turn down good pizza from Hot Lip’s, I managed to eat a few pieces.

On my way home, the million dollars worth of credit cards on their way across the country in the back of a UPS truck, I returned my younger brother’s call from earlier in the day. “I’m at Rocco’s,” he said. “I’ll meet you there,” I replied, for some reason. So, for dinner, I had another slice of pizza.

This morning, just for kicks, I had another piece of leftover pizza for breakfast. For the past thirty hours or so, the only non-pizza based solid food I’ve consumed was the nachos we had on Thursday night at the theater.

So much for getting a head-start on my plan for health living.

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