I hate moving furniture…
Why is it that anytime you need to so something strenuous whether its moving house, or baling hay, it’s always 90+degrees fahrenheit and 90+% humidity?
I officially became a resident of Prattville, Alabama this weekend, thanks to Gobsmack-level help from friends and dad in moving a trailer load of heavy furniture, followed by the second day of transporting pissed off felines 200 miles south to the new apartment. Katie thinks she’s in charge. roux is terrified, and mouse couldn’t care less. status quo, but a different world for them. … And for me as well I suppose..
At 44, aren’t I too old to live in an apartment…?
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Yes.. Believe it or not, I can read…
Since getting my iPad on the last possible day of May, I’ve been tinkering with all the apps I can find in the store, and converting my 400+ DVD collection to .mp4 format to watch at random. Also over the last little bit, I’ve started playing around with the free book collection from the iBookstore. the Art of War by Sun Tzu, The CIA Factbook, those sorts of things.
In my younger days, I used to read voraciously. Every moment I got to myself was covered in words from series like Dragonlance, the Elric series of books, various works by Louise Cooper, and yes, pictures by way of the more than occasional comic books.
I’ve tried purchasing a few books such as the TorchWood novels and various Star Trek sets in the past little bit. I’ve even dusted off my copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, but in general have found that I lack either the time, or patience to keep up with carrying around a novel to read. No problem carrying around the correspondingly huge iPad, but a 6″. 2 ounce book is just unforgivable but I digress.
15 years, one diivorce, six Web sites, and several cities later, I find that I don’t often get such a luxury as a leisurely novel read any more. Today however is when that is going to start changing for the better.
More specifically, I am a huge Nathan Fillion fan so LOVE ABC’s series “Castle”. Today I found the novel Richard Castle: Heat Wave in the store, which is a corresponding novel to parallel the book that Nathan’s character (Richard Castle) was writing during the show’s first season.
I downloaded the “example” preview into iBooks and really liked the first 25 pages. Primarily because I identify with the characters from the show. I suppose this is how Cathy Reichs fans feel when reading a Bones novel then watching the TV show.
Anyway, I’m going to buy it, and give it a shot in the hopes that it will rekindle (no Kindle pun intended) my love of the written word. I’ll let you know how it goes.
(This post incidentally written on my iPad…)
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7 quick and easy steps to repairing bullet holes in your ceiling.
We’ve all had them. Whether we’re talking about an apartment situation, or even an overnight stay in a hotel with multiple floors.
I’m speaking of course of those annoying neighbors (aka hobgoblins) living upstairs who obviously feel the need to re-arrange furniture all night — judging by the loud bumps and bangs coming through your bedroom ceiling while you so desperately need to get to sleep.
Go ahead. Admit it. You know you want to. Even the most gun-control-centric human being would humorously have thoughts of stretching out on the bed, faithful 9mm pistol in hand, striving to see just how many shots it would take to kill the rhinoceros roaming above your head at 3am.
Luckily for civilized society, the noise factor of a pistol and the difficulty in se
curing a good-quality silencer — like everyone in the movies seems to have on hand — keeps most of you wimpy bastards at bay.
For those lucky ones who do have a silencer or just don’t give a damn about the noise, I could only suggest that you make a few pre-emptive purchases for the fateful night;
- sandpaper to smooth out the area around the hole(s)
- some spackle (aka sheetrock mud) to cover the hole
- putty knives to apply it with
- some *WHITE* toothpaste as a temporary fix in case the cops come running in (if you have a “popcorn ceiling” from the 70′s)
- paint to match
- brushes which can be quickly disposed of.
- a disposable drop cloth
- a disposable dust buster vacuum
(You might also consider a replacement light fixture in case your fury knows no bounds)
Now, to get down to it…
- Once the sound has abated from the upstairs smegheads, quickly spread out the dropcloth over the affected area. Sand around the bullet holes, hoping no blood is seeping through. If there’s blood, just stuff a small Wal-Mart bag through the hole to catch it.
- Once the area is sanded and smooth, start filling the hole with spackle using the putty knife.
- Let the spackle dry for a few minutes (it will shrink), finish out until even with the surrounding area.
- Let dry for 30 minutes, then sand.
- Apply toothpaste in “dollops” using the tube itself and light pressure. Remember, it’s not supposed to be perfect, just enough to blend in and cover when the cops come rushing in.
- After the toothpaste dries, you can paint to match if needed.
- Throw everything away in a dumpster on the other side of town, wiping off fingerprints of course.
By this point, if you’ve done your frickin job well, you’ll have a restored ceiling able to pass cursory inspection by the cops, and a better night’s sleep once they’re gone.
Good luck and happy hunting…
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The fallacy of Political Correctness.
Since you can’t look up political correctness (PC) in a dictionary or phrase book other than the online repositories, here’s the most accurate definition I could find, from Wikipedia;
Political correctness (adjectivally, politically correct; both forms commonly abbreviated to PC) is a term denoting language, ideas, policies, and behavior seen as seeking to minimize social offense in gender, racial, cultural, sexual orientation, handicap, and age-related contexts. In current usage, the terms are almost exclusively pejorative, connoting “intolerant” and “intolerance”.
In other words, it’s the attempt to alter human speech patterns and thoughts so as to not offend anyone.
Here’s what’s wrong with that idea.
Setting aside the actual fact that political correctness promotes censorship as well as trying to manage what you, as a human being actually thinks, the even moreso simple fact is that there’s simply no way to “not” offend someone.
Take the recent Christmas holiday season for example. For the last several years, we’ve all seen and read stories about how we’re not supposed to say “Merry Christmas”, instead inserting such inane greetings as “Happy Holidays” so as to not offend Jewish, Muslim, or other religions that might not celebrate Christmas. You’ve even read stories about stores like Wal-Mart and Target banning their employees from saying “Merry Christmas” in order to appease their customer base.
The problem is, this is America folks. America as a whole is essentially a Christian nation, so when a store like Wal-Mart (arguably the largest retailer on the planet) puts the kibosh on Christmas to keep from offending any group of customers, they’re actually serving to offend lots, and lots of people.
… but that’s ok, now that Henry Brown (Republican) from South Carolina and his Congressional cohorts are coming on board.
I present to you, HR111-951, a bill before the 111th Congress designed to
Expressing the sense of the House of Representatives that the symbols and traditions of Christmas should be protected for use by those who celebrate Christmas.
In other words, designed to make it illegal to say “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas” by protecting it by law.
I don’t know folks. Who wins in this situation? Why can’t we, as Americans learn the difference between people trying to be offensive, and being offended? I think almost everyone working for a company has probably had to endure some sort of bullshit “cultural diversity and sensitivity” training, so why hasn’t everyone figured out to just accept that some times, people say, and do stupid things and may offend (intentionally or not) but NO ONE has some mysterious right to “not” be offended…
In the end, the practical result is that — with few extreme exceptions — there’s nothing anyone can say on any given topic without offending someone, so being PC is a complete waste of time, energy and effort.
All I know is that between Wal-Mart, Target, and Representative Henry Brown, all of this crap is enough to completely take the fun — as well as the Christ — out of Christmas.
Wayne Hunt
segwayne.com
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Crisis: Lost in the Ether, Pen in Hand.
Fifteen years ago, when the online world as we now know it was still in its infancy, I had an idea, and Amiga.org was born.
An avid Commodore Amiga user at the time, there were a few sites that anyone could go to on a regular basis but most – including the premier site of the time – were a list of links to other sites written in HTML 1.0 if not even older. No forums, no logins, no spam, no animations or flash, no adverts. The Amiga online world consisted of merely sites containing links to various other resources.
Life, like the Web, was simpler then.
Enter 2009. The world is in chaos. America is now involved in not only one, but two illegal occupations of sovereign countries. The US economy is in ruins, and for the first time in 27 years, I find myself unemployed and even worse, completely without focus.
Two months before losing my job, I had decided to sell Amiga.org in order to pay off some bills and get out from under some debt. The thought was to pay off the bills, put away some money, and hopefully protect myself from the onslaught of the economy. Friends called me paranoid and delusional, but sadly I find no comfort in the ability to tell them “I told you so”.
Now, I look at the Web, trying to find something interesting that I can build on. Perhaps a new hobby or distraction that I could use to build a new, brighter, and even more fun community than Amiga.org turned out to be. What I find however is that at age 43, I don’t seem to be interested in much aside from writing.
All the things that used to thrill me, from computers, to HTML, to learning about new Web geeky goodness simply don’t hold anything for me any more. As most of my readers know, I’ve tried everything from new themes, to new sites, to even podcasting which is fun, but a lot of work to come up with content on a regular basis.
Maybe in some small way, I can blame my move in 2006 away from Windows to the Macintosh platform. I used to LOVE tinkering with computers until Microsoft pissed me off by calling me a pirate. On that day, I called Apple. The next, I unboxed my first iMac and never looked back.
My disinterest in the hardcore world of computers can be blamed on the Mac simply because OS X has made things so easy that unlike my early years, I now concentrate more on the act of creating than the act of trying to figure out how to use the computer to create.
But I digress.
My point with this long-winded diatribe is that – like a lot of newly displaced workers out there – I find myself at a crossroads of sorts. I find myself searching for anything to care about. Hobbies such as cooking, computers, photography, podcasting, and a thousand other things. No matter what, I keep coming back to writing.
Writing is the one thing that simultaneously lets me express myself, and it makes me feel better. That being said, it’s clear what I want to do. There are only two questions that matter.
- What do I write about?
- How do I get paid for it?
As for what to write about, if you’re one of the few people actually reading this blog, then you’ve realized that I’m sort of all over the place. Movie and TV reviews, App reviews, and a lot of incessant babbling not unlike this post.
I guess finding the focus of what to write about is the trick, isn’t it?
As far as getting paid for it, I had a great conversation with a friend of mine (JTRigsby) last night about the idea that traditional news media is either toddling on top of the proverbial wall or half-way down it on its way to shattering into a million pieces.
Without wanting to stick my friend’s foot in his own mouth, during the course of the conversation we both seemed to feel that in a very short time, you won’t see traditional newspapers as they are now, nor will you see traditional news reports, as “news” is far too fast acting these days for traditional media to adapt.
Whether or not most of us realize it, this has been witnessed a thousand times in the shift from what I call “Walter Kronkite news” to the newer “news entertainment” media that relies on gossip, and even sites like TMZ for what now passes for news.
As I’ve said before it’s a very sad statement, but it seems that the average citizen of the US of A is more concerned as to whether or not Britney remembered to wear panties today than the fact that America itself is on the endangered list of countries.
This coming media revolution will leave the millions of self-proclaimed “reporters”, “reviewers” and “newserazzi” out there on the Web clawing and clamoring for a chance to establish themselves in what – for lack of better words – I’ll simply refer to as “The New Media Order”.
I can’t be the only highly qualified person out there in this position, and I want my own piece of the American pie. If you’re still reading this, give me a chance.
Thanks for listening,
Wayne Hunt
segwayne.com
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Edit thyne bookmarks…
We’re back! Segwayne.com is now…. Segwayne.com….
Hope you like the new look / feel, but feel free to cough up the furballs of your fertile imagination and offer ideas as to how I can do it better.
If you’ve bookmarked http://segwayne.wordpress.com, or you’re subscribed to our feed via RSS, please update the links to reflect http://segwayne.com and all will be right with the world.
Wayne
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You lie!
I often sit here and think to myself that if I discovered a Genie’s bottle and was given three wishes, my first would be “I’d like to know the absolute truth about everything”… Funny thing about that idea.
There is no such thing as truth.
.. or better said that truth, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. Better yet, in every situation in your life, whose “truth” do you choose to believe?
Take for example the United States’ current involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Is it the truth that Saddam Hussein had weapons of mass destruction as we were all mislead to believe, or is it more truthful that — as oil men — George W. Bush and cronies saw an opportunity to exploit the resources of both America and a sovereign nation for their own financial gain under the premise of freedom and democracy?
My point, and feel free to expand this to ANY situation, is that history (sometimes passed off as the truth) is written by those who remain to write it. American Comedian Robert Wuhl taught us that in perfectly crystal clear valid examples in his HBO series “Assume the Position with Mr. Wuhl“. I’ve just however start to realize how correct he is, and how his examples can be traced down to the most minute of details in each of our own personal lives.
Think about politicians. Are politicians all liars, or are they simply more adept at spinning the media for the truth they want to express? How many sex-scandalous Republicans are getting caught versus getting ratted out by other politicians they piss off?
All I’m asking in this little diatribe today is that each of us stop to think about what we do. Actions have consequences. The world around you may see “the truth” differently than you, I, or anyone else. This is a lesson that I’m being hard pressed to learn, and I believe everyone else would be better off if they kept an open mind.
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Waiting for the epiphany…
As some of you may know, I’m currently on 90-day furlough (which officially started today by the way), which is a fancy way of saying “laid off without pay”.
I’ve gone through all the appropriate steps from shock, to denial, to anger and so forth. Now I’m simply into acceptance and taking life day by day. I could easily get mired down in bitter diatribe blaming the world for my troubles, but really.. they’re all problems of my own making.
If I were a weaker person, I could blame Obama and the Democrats like everyone else, but again, my ending up in this situation really does reflect more on bad planning for myself than anything else.
The work thing is honestly just part of the business of being a contractor. Contract year ends, contract ends, work ends, money ends. Simple really. No hard feelings.
The guys at work say they’re actively searching for something to put me to work on and I sincerely pray for their success, but the natural skeptic in me is battling the hopeless optimist. You know how that goes.
I can sincerely say that this has all lead to a great number of lessons being learned about my lifestyle, my life as a whole, the stupidity of relying on credit for toys in the vain attempt to find happiness, and so-forth.
Filed for Unemployment today (online thankfully). Don’t know how much that will be, but I do know it’s “more than minimum wage but less than needed to survive”.
Between it, and the funds garnered from selling the motorcycle and other things, I should be ok for a short while, but jobs around here — for me — seem to be very rare unless I’m willing to flip burgers or work at Walmart (again, minimum wage, less than unemployment).
As such, while I continue to search in earnest for employment, I may be forced to relocate by the current market. Away from friends, my house, and everything I love. I might be miserable and suicidal, but I’d survive.
In the meantime, I’m moderately content — though simultaneously not — to use this time for soul-searching and to get both my life, and my house in order. Literally on the house, mentally on the introspection.
What I’ve come up with so far is trying to get at the source of my resistance for finishing my degree. Mostly, I can trace my hesitation back to childish resentment. Again, I could dwell on it, but doing so would be pointless, if not self-destructive.
Historically and frankly honest, I started half-ass attempts in 85 and 89. Drafting in 85, which I gave up because I fell “in love”, gave it all up, and moved to North Carolina. Computers in 1989 because it sounded like fun, but both met with lackluster ends by my own hands.
Now, 20-years later at 43, I *know* what I need to do, but have no way to do it. What I’m afraid of is that if I get another chance at work, I’ll prioritize work (as I should) but forget about the need to do the right thing and work towards getting my degree.
As of right now, I’ve decided that should I get the chance, I’m most interested in getting back to Architecture.
There’s something soothing to the soul for me in drafting up a house, or sitting around looking at house plan books making changes in my mind as to how I’d do things better, or at least differently. Trouble I have is, Drafting and Architecture seems to have fallen out of favor in the last 20 years.
Once upon a time, when such endeavors were all based on paper and driven by intelligence and talent, you could get a Bachelor’s and even occasionally find a Master’s degree on the subject.
Now that Architecture is all based on computers and “any idiot can design a house”, it seems very difficult to find more than an Associate’s degree, which indicates to me that it would be about as useful as a Doctorate in “Underwater Basket Weaving”….
There’s also the subject of payment. An average Bachelor’s degree is $40,000 per year, $160,000 to $200,000 to complete. How in the hell does a 43 year old EVER pay for such an education when the chances of ever making that money back (versus what I make now) are almost zero.
So, I’m sure this is all a catch 22, and I’m sure that I’m not the only one faced with such a conundrum, but for those of you who are in it, I sure could use an idea or two…
After all, my only backup plan seems to be to clear out the bank account, pick up the passport, walk away from it all, and let God land me where he may.
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Growing up sucks
I know I babble a lot, but sometimes I have a little to say and suffer from an overabundance of words.. I love writing, so deal, ok?
That being said, I seem to be going through a period of rationality as of late. Probably brought on by the doctor’s rude announcement on my 43rd birthday that I am in fact not immortal. While shocking to a man with Peter Pan syndrome such as myself, I hope I’m adjusting to the new world around me as best I can.
The beloved and sorely missed big orange truck is gone. If I could find or afford to buy another GoldWing with cash, the bike would be on the block too. The idea of me without a bike however is just too odd to contemplate right now.
As a matter of fact, most of my unused toys are on the way to eBay (by choice) and now I’m retiring from (and selling off) one of my larger web sites that I’ve run for 15 years, in order to work towards canceling out the debt that I’ve collected over the years.
All I can say is that growing up sucks, but I sincerely hope that I’m finally learning my lesson about debt and credit.
Once everything is settled, I really want to get back to finishing the house remodel (3 years and counting, but who’s counting?), then turn my attention to finishing out my external garage with aluminum or vinyl siding, along with insulation, drywall, and other man-cave kinda stuff. All cash of course when the time comes.
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Facing the spoiled American brat that I’ve become…
I’m sitting here even debating writing about this, because frankly it doesn’t show me in the best light, but after thinking about it, I believe what I’m going through is indicative of a larger problem in American society worth talking about. That socially relevant point comes later, but let me get this off my chest first…
Specifically, I’m discovering that I’m a spoiled, American brat. At least where my toys are concerned….
A few weeks ago, or more precisely the last day of July, I bought — with my dad’s help — my 2002 Mazda B2300 pickup. I say “with dad’s help”, because he’s trying to help me get my life on track and get out from all my debt, for which I’m eternally grateful and could never dare pretend to be otherwise.
Having a vehicle paid off and being able to sock that money away every month will be a remarkable thing once I get there.
So why am I sitting here kvetching about being spoiled?
Easy. Over the last 3 years, I had truly come to identify myself with the “Big-assed Orange Truck” (or BOT for short).. I truly loved that vehicle and felt like it had become very much an extension of who I am and what I represented in the world. Big, HEMI-strong, bold, and “sucking the gas outta life itself”… (haha)…
Now I’m being faced with the reality at 43 years old that I simply can’t have everything I want in life. Signing my name to a creditor’s note isn’t the answer to moving ahead in life, and some of my toys simply don’t make sense.
Like I said in my last entry, the truck was costing me about $3.50 per mile just to drive that 6 miles each way to work and back, 2 or 3 times a week (rainy days) while I rode my bike the others. As such, getting rid of the truck was the most rational and expedient thing to do, and it wiped out roughly $14,000 in debt with the stroke of a pen. Yay for me…
So why on Earth am I sitting here kvetching to you good people?
The problem for me (and a lot of Americans I’m betting) now is that I’m finding myself somewhat resentful and feeling childishly petulant about having to give up my toy and “settle” for what — for me — seems to be a DANGEROUSLY underpowered, trouble-ridden (they still haven’t fixed the clutch) “piece of shyte” “point a to point b” car.
In short, I’m childishly pitching a b*tch because even though there’s absolutely nothing wrong with the truck (except the anemic 4-cylinder), I’m kvetching like a kid who dropped his ice cream cone, just because it’s just not what I want.
Over the past three years, I had the perfect vehicle for me. Big interior, LOTS of power, good ride, excellent stereo (even OEM) and lots of what most consider luxury features. Sure, the gas mileage and insurance costs sucked big time, but hey, I’m a rich American capitalist, infidel, pig-dog, right?
The “new” Mazda (let’s just call it what it is, a Ford Danger, erm, I mean Ranger) on the other hand is small, cramped, underpowered, with a basic AM/FM stereo and while it has power everything, it just feels like a huge step backwards from where I was.
That being said though, I spent most of the weekend depressed and whining about it, only to finally admit to myself that there’s literally NO used car that I could have bought for the same amount of money ($5,000 USD) that would be any better.
The Mazda — flawed as I want to imagine — is literally, the best used vehicle I could have hoped to have found — clutch problems not withstanding. The benefits of which will kick in later when I’ve got it paid off with my dad.
Speaking of Dad, he’s been great about it, offering to “take it back and sell it and go get something else” whenever I even mention my reservations, but like I said, short of the Jaguar I had my heart set on, I can’t imagine I’d be happy with any other choice either.
The socially relevant bit, as promised…
I’m sitting here writing this, as I said, because it’s socially relevant, and not just to me.
The era in which we currently find ourselves is the result of 8 years of the Bush regime and not one, but two illegal and expensive wars (though some would track it all the way back to Clinton). I don’t personally care who’s at fault and don’t want to make this political. In truth I don’t care who caused it, because “who” just doesn’t matter any more.
Regardless of who you personally want to blame for the current economic disaster, the end result — whether you’re rich or poor — is that this financial crisis is incredibly tough on everyone and for me, I’m starting to feel it the hard way.
See? It’s like this. Lots of middle-aged old farts like me who grew up on easy credit are now learning the hard way to live by their bootstraps with only what they’ve got and frankly, it’s an incredibly tough pill to swallow.
We’ve ALL gotten used to 20 years of toys, be they Dodge Daytona HEMI-powered pickup trucks, or million dollar houses on interest-only payments, and now we find ourselves driving “hoopty” little trucks, hoping to be able to feed our families, and living in apartments while searching for the dream of stable employment.
All we can do hopefully, as spoiled Americans, is to suck it up and survive long enough to finally learn the lessons about living on credit.
As for me, all I hope for is continued employment long enough to pay off the truck, then to be able to continue kvetching about (erm, I mean driving) it until I can save up enough to pay off all my bills and then maybe, just maybe, save up the cash to buy me a new Big-assed Orange Truck someday.
As for the rest of my American compatriots facing similar cut backs in real life, you have my empathy. I now know how you feel. All I can say is good luck and God Speed.
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