All posts by Rick

I'm living in rural Florida (USA) with my wife, son, two cats, and quite a few computers. I actively work in several areas of interest but still find time to manage several websites, execute home improvements, ride the Harleys, and play with cool toys. I'm reasonably fit for an Old Guy, equally comfortable wielding a keyboard, torque wrench, or spatula. I've got a scary-low tolerance for bullshit.

Hit By A Car

I was hit by a car. No, it’s okay, really. I wasn’t hurt and no real damage was done.

It was my neighbor, Heather, that did it. My garage empties into a little court leading to the public street. I had rolled my motorcycle out, preparing to run some errands. I saw her car, motionless, and she was talking to another neighbor. I had my back to them as I wrapped some bungies around the sissy bar.

Suddenly, the rear of her car was pushing me against the motorcycle, my leg sandwiched between her plastic bumper and my license plate holder. I hollered, cursing, and she stopped immediately. She had been moving slowly and reacted quickly. The car halted less than an inch from the sheet metal of my rear fender.

There was no damage, really. A slight bend was visible in the chromed barbed-wire plate holder where my leg had been pressed against it. My arm got scratched a bit – I must have hit something as I spun to turn my attention to the car.

“I didn’t see you!” she apologized, after seeing that disaster had been averted and everything was basically alright. Those very words are heard by bikers WAY too often.

I delivered the lecture and went about my business.

Business Licensing in My Town

Starting a new business is, among other things, an exercise in discovering exactly which licenses, permits and permissions one needs to obtain. My local municipality requires such a license. The application consists of a one-page form and payment of fifty dollars. It seemed simple enough.

The municipality has a decent Web site. Some might argue that the layout is hard to navigate but it doesn’t bother me. In short order I found several links to the required form. The trouble – you guessed it – none of the links worked! I played good citizen. I compiled a list which included a few other dead-ends I discovered in my quest and submitted a report. The next day my inbox held a reply. But what do you suppose I found when I returned to the site? The questionable links had simply been removed!

Following a couple of days of no progress I decided to visit the Municipal Complex in person. Just before firing up the motorcycle I checked the site for the proper form name and… what’s this? A restored link and an available form!

I pulled the downloaded PDF into an editor and went to work. Some questions struck me as odd but what the heck. I printed the result, cut a check, stuffed the envelope and sent it on its way.

In a couple of days I had voice mail from the town. We actually played phone tag for a couple more days. While playing I even tried to stop by the office twice to no avail. This was dragging on too long! But finally we made contact. Uh oh, the news wasn’t good. It looked for a moment like my application would not be approved! (Er, no mention of why my check was cleared several days previous.) Some polite conversation cleared up the issues and approval became certain. We ended with an upbeat discussion of technology and an introduction to the IT staff. Close call.

Fast forward several weeks. My license had arrived! What a disappointment. I mean, I print way better quality draft material from my inkjet. Half a colored sheet of crap-quality plain paper, n-th generation photocopy with a couple of fields inked in, they couldn’t even cut the bottom of the thing parallel to the top. To call it sloppy would be a huge compliment.

Oh well, it had a number and an official seal. And I guess that’s all that matters.

Marauding Bands of Fat Girls

I often have business near the neighborhood where I grew up. It’s one of the older neighborhoods in the township. Before the surrounding area was developed it existed solely as two roads crossing to form an L with a few one-block cross streets on one leg, no major traffic.

Come summer, back in the day, the neighborhood was absolutely bursting with action. Ball games, kids on bikes, skateboards, you name it – kids everywhere, and the sounds of play could be heard from dawn to dusk.

Today things are different. The streets are largely deserted. I guess everyone’s busy. Kids just don’t recreate outside anymore, the way we used to do so long ago. Instead, what I see most of all in the old streets are marauding bands of fat girls.

I was motorcycling through, my son on the pillion, returning from an event at the high school. There, ahead, were a group of them. About eight bodies. All girls. All fat. All Black. Arrogantly sauntering, occupying most of the street, apparently deliberately oblivious to any traffic that may come along. Some were using their cell phones.

Now my scoot ain’t exactly quiet if you know what I mean. They had to have heard us approaching for blocks as we slowly cruised at perhaps 15 MPH, dead-center down the middle of the street. My throttle hand was rock-steady, keeping characteristic sound of the V-twin even and unwavering.

They waited until the last possible second to make a hole for us.

I signaled my turn at the end of the block, dabbed my left foot to the pavement briefly in deference to the stop sign, and accelerated.

Time Off

I’m afraid that the blog has suffered lately. Postings have just not been happening. Some might be thinking that this one has gone like the other personal blogs I’ve started in the past: left to die of neglect, interest lost.

Actually I’ve been merely recreating with the family. My son’s been off from school, naturally, but my wife’s taken a load of time off as well to de-stress and recreate. So I’ve dropped as much as I can in order to participate. And there’s quite a bit to do here in what’s arguably the densest area of the country!

Well, that’s behind us now, and it’s time to get back to work.

Fast Food Adventure

I haven’t eaten “fast food” in so many years now that I’ve simply forgotten exactly how long it’s been. Okay, technically that’s not quite true. I’ll eat the fries from time to time. McDonald’s fries are the best. What can I say? Those yellow strings of potato, soaked in beef juice, fried and salted are pretty darned tasty. They’re different from the others. It must be that beef juice.

My avoidance began rather abruptly with a McDonald’s chicken sandwich. Maybe it was the mayo, maybe something else that had gone a bit bad. Whatever it was, it ravaged my digestive system for about four days. The most unfortunate thing was that those particular four days corresponded with a four-day weekend. When you mess with my four-day weekend there will be consequences. I swore the stuff off.

But yesterday I broke my resolve.

My wife and son had planned for a couple of days to have lunch at McDonald’s. She was off from work early, it was the day before my son’s birthday (he likes the stuff – as most young people do), and they invited me along if I could manage to get away. My plan was to grab a slice of pizza beforehand and have some fries and a coke while enjoying their company. But my business at the bank ran a little over and I was hungry. As we queued up I decided it couldn’t hurt – just this once – to have something more.

The menu had changed a great deal since I last read it. The store wasn’t crowded so the girl behind the counter waited patiently. I opted for a rather large burger with mushrooms and Swiss cheese. Angus beef, the menu stated, a third of a freakin’ pound. That’s a big burger! I added fries and a coke. (I had to dispense my own soda, too. Is that common these days?) Overkill, no doubt, but I figured it would be okay given how little of this kind of stuff I eat. Besides, I wanted to feel the effect, if any, that it would have on my system.

After that burger I was no longer hungry. I wasn’t for the rest of the day. I burped and farted my way though the afternoon. I think I felt bloated, fatigued, but those around me said it was my imagination. Dinnertime came and went. My desire for food had been erased!

It’s the next morning as I write. I’ve got my usual pot of strong black coffee at my side. Usually breakfast would be on my mind. It’s not. I didn’t get sick from yesterday’s lapse. But I’m thinking it’ll be a long time before my next fast food adventure.

“I Can’t”

You’re finished as soon as you say those words. You’ve set yourself up for failure. No, something less than failure, because you’ve already accepted, embraced an outcome with the same certainty as your next breath.

Infinitely better it is to try, no matter how feeble the effort. You have a chance. No matter how small the odds of success, it is opportunity measured as something greater than zero. And no matter how it turns out, you will have gained experience and probably a bit of knowledge as well.

The Strength of a Spider Web – and the Spider Itself

I don’t use my Jeep much anymore, especially in the summer. I used to. But since I adopted the work-at-home lifestyle there just isn’t much need. Besides, if it’s possible, the motorcycle’s always the first choice.

But this errand called for four wheels. As I cranked down the window I noticed that a spider had constructed a web from the driver’s side mirror to the body proper. I looked closer. The spider appeared to be sleeping near its ball of? spider eggs, more likely than not!

Should I cancel my plan? Not on your life! This would prove to be an interesting trip indeed. I brought the motor to life and cranked the window closed.

By the time I had driven but a short distance the spider was quite awake. 30 MPH winds will do that, when it shakes your nursery violently. But the spider and egg-ball held fast. Soon I was out of the local streets and onto the highway. I only needed to travel a short distance and barely reached 55 MPH. As I approached my destination it appeared that the spider had lost its grip but when I looked closer I realized that it had merely gotten close – very close – to the egg-ball. Perhaps it was trying to protect it? I locked up and went about my business. The return trip, I resolved, would become a better test.

The spider appeared to be sleeping again when I returned to the Jeep. I hit the highway and accelerated. 55 MPH, 65, 75? The web shook much more violently than before as I passed my turn at 85 MPH. The old Jeep with the tired clutch didn’t want this any more than the spider did but I asked for a little more. At 90 MPH I backed down and eased into a jughandle to turn back.

The web had pulled loose from its iron grip on the mirror and hung from the body panel. But before the light changed the spider poked itself above the window line! It had survived!

The remainder of the trip back was sedate. And when I parked the spider, and the egg ball, and the mostly destroyed web, were still attached. Later I’ll have a look and see whether progress is being made on the rebuild.

There’s probably a moral to the story but I’m damned if I know what it is.

Waves of Spam

Like you, my inboxes are always filled with spam. Oh, I take measures that I don’t have to deal with it – much – but sometimes unmistakable patterns emerge. Such as when the popular media talks about those Nigerian schemes and suddenly there’s an onslaught of those kinds of messages.

Lately it’s been colon cleansing. My favorite is the one that begins, in part, “the average American has 6-10 undigested meals resting in the colon.” Think about that for a second. 6-10 undigested meals. In the colon. Doesn’t that mean that you’re seriously ill? By the time the… material… has reached your colon, one would presume that the needed nutrients have already been absorbed by the digestion process.

I could go on for some time. Certain foods, for example, seem to defy digestion. But I’ll, er, pass.

Here, have another plate of spam. What’s your favorite flavor?

Ultimate Screen Protection

I was reading recently about a company that sells a screen protection system for the iPhone. Like anything oriented toward Apple products, it’s pricey. The article was compelling because the iPhone strikes me as a device that would be prone to getting all scratched up fairly easily. (For fun, go check out the iPhone episode of Will It Blend!)

Over the years I’ve had a number of PDAs and I’m well aware how necessary it is to employ addition protection to keep prevent screen damage. The product I was reading about sure looked good, but ouch! What a price!

With a bit of digging I uncovered someone else’s research. Go check out the folks at X-Pel. They’re in the business of protecting automotive finishes, but it sure looks like the Ultimate Screen Protector to me. I mean, what do you think is the tougher environment? The highway? Or the scratching of a little plastic stylus?

X-Pel sells small quantities for very reasonable prices. Under the Products menu select Bulk Film by Inch. If this is the stuff used by the iPhone product folks then damn, I sure wish I thought of it first. What a markup! They must be raking in the dough.

I haven’t tried it yet and I don’t know anyone who has, so if you totally hose your screen please don’t come whining to me. Experiment at your own risk. As for me, I’m ordering some film to play with.

Disclaimer: I don’t have any interest in X-Pel or Apple. Before last week I never heard of the former and the nearest I come to Apple these days is that my wife and kid have iPods and come to me for help when iTunes barfs.

A Short Visit to the Jersey Shore

Have you had the chance to visit one of the world-famous New Jersey shore areas? Growing up in the state meant that the shore was always part of the summer routine. The sand and surf, the boardwalks, the rides, the food… there’s something for everyone.

Basically on a whim, my wife and son joined me for an afternoon in Point Pleasant, where we probably haven’t been for about a decade. Armed with a Ziplock of quarters – arcade fodder – from the change jar, we parked at the bottom end of the boardwalk and worked our way northward.

Point Pleasant emphasizes family-oriented diversions: mostly parents with young kids in tow, enjoying the kiddie rides, and slightly older kids, barely in their teens, cruising the boardwalk and arcades. Stretching the parental leash a little, this is sort of a ‘practice boardwalk’ for what’s to come. In a couple more years they’ll be hitting the beach with their friends as opposed to parents, and opting for towns like Belmar and Seaside

Before we knew it we had reached the upper end of the boardwalk! We stopped for a couple of Snapples and discussed what to do next. We decided to move on to Seaside, about a dozen miles south.

Seaside has a longer boardwalk, more arcades, just more. Since we were hitting the arcades it took a couple of hours to traverse the boardwalk this time. The top prizes offered tend to be the same across the midway, and it’s always interesting to see what the ‘stuff of the season’ will be. This year held some surprises. Like iPhones. It conjured an image of Steve Jobs in a meeting with the Apple’s marketing department, “now I want to be sure to release a few thousand units to those crane games in Seaside Heights, New Jersey! Let’s get on it!” Yeah, right. Guitars – both acoustic and electric – were big. Some looked so chintzey that I doubted they would last to the end of the day if you handled them. I’m a little surprised I didn’t notice more guitar debris as litter. Of course, there were those miniature scooters and motorcycles but I didn’t even realize that knock-off ‘Segways’ existed! Live and learn.

As day turned to night and the lifeguards packed it in we hit the beach. We weren’t equipped to swim (there’s a $200 fine for changing into a swimsuit in a public bathroom or your car!) but we wanted to walk on the sand and wade some.

Overall, a few hours well-spent!

I think I’m spoiled, though. None of the more northern towns, for me anyway, come close to Wildwood. First, Wildwood’s boardwalk is over 2 miles long and you can bicycle (or unicycle or rollerblade) on it. The beaches are freakin’ huge and uncrowded and free, and they’re raked every single day. There’s something to be said for a town where they play the Star Spangled Banner over the boardwalk PA each morning. Most everything stops dead while people pause to respectfully listen.

You can spend days, as opposed to hours, visiting Wildwood.

Torch Failure

I spent some time throwing torches this evening. Scratch that. I mean not quite throwing torches. Or maybe the throwing was going okay, but the catching failed.

Oh, I’ve got plenty of excuses. Want to hear some? I’m getting over a cold. I just finished dinner. I’ve been slacking on my practice. My left wrist is a little sore. My mind was preoccupied with other stuff. That enough?

The doubles I started with were acceptable, I guess, but as dusk went to dark I couldn’t even get simple cascades to flow. Drop after drop after drop. I was glad the surface was asphalt – it doesn’t burn!

Well, there’s a bright side to everything. Despite a performance failure I didn’t set fire to myself or anything else!

Time To Kill

There was a time in my life, long ago, when the idea of keeping accurate time was very important to me. I wore a wristwatch in those days. It was a cheap Casio – reasonable functions wrapped in stainless steel and mineral glass, built to take serious punishment. (I worked with stone back then, punishment a-plenty for a watch!) Somehow, it comforted me, that hourly beep, knowing that it was this hour or that hour. Not almost. Not close. But right now.

That watch opened easily. Good thing, because I opened it often to tweak the adjustment. The frequency of those adjustments grew less and less, mostly, the more I did it. Such was my quest for accuracy.

Jon3 also had a fascination with the accuracy of his watch. Each of us went through similar exercises with our respective timepieces. We were neighbors but sometimes months would pass before we’d see each other. You can just imagine how odd it was to hear our watches announce the hour in unison!

We knew what time it was.

Several years back (but still many years after I had left the compulsion for clock accuracy behind) I stopped wearing a watch altogether. The battery had exhausted itself. By the time I had gotten around to replacing the battery I realized that I didn’t have much need to wear one. For wherever one looks clocks abound, including on the ever-present mobile phone.

All of the clocks in my home display different times. The most accurate, year after year, is the clock on my desk. Every now and again, usually only after the rest of the family hounds me for a while, I’ll sync ’em all up. I’ll check the venerable desk clock against a standard and more often than not it will be plenty close enough. Then I’ll walk around the house fixing all the other clocks and watches I find. Some drift pretty far pretty fast! Everyone’s happy until they drift enough to be annoying.

The computers in the house are another story. All the computers – physical, virtual, PDAs and so on – all sync themselves to a single server in the basement. And that in turn syncs itself to a time server on the Internet. So unless something’s gone wrong they’re always pretty accurate. Without the need to fumble about with a spanner and tiny screwdriver.

And it’s been years since I’ve heard from Jon3.

Clean Your Laptop’s Screen

Keeping your LCD screen clean reduces eye strain. It may also allow you to run with reduced backlight brightness. That translates directly to longer battery life – the backlight is a heavy consumer of your power budget. So, how do you effectively clean it without causing scratches or other damage? Here’s what I do.

You’ll need some special cleaning fluid. Sure, you could go buy a bottle of LCD cleaner from your favorite office supply store. But I use isopropyl alcohol diluted 50% with spring water. Look in your medicine cabinet, I’ll bet you have some isopropyl on hand already. Next you’ll need a soft cloth. A perfect source is an old, well-washed and worn out cotton t-shirt that’s destined for the trash. Cut two pieces that have no printing – you want plain, unadulterated cloth with no printing, decals or other abrasive matter. Remember, you’ll be rubbing soft plastic so anything abrasive will cause scratches!

Wash your hands. Shut down your laptop; you don’t want it to accidentally power up while you’re working. Dip a corner of the cloth in your solution then squeeze most of it out between finger and thumb. You want the cloth to be well-moistened but not dripping. You do not want droplets of solution to sneak under the bezel.

Pick a corner to start and lightly scrub the screen with the moistened cloth. Then, before the area dries in the air use your dry cloth to polish it dry. Periodically re-moisten your cleaning cloth as needed, and don’t forget to shift to an unused area of the cloth as it becomes used. And don’t let it dry out!

Work your way over the entire screen surface a few square inches at a time. Resist the temptation to do more square inches than you can comfortably clean before it dries in the air on its own. Overlap your cleaning areas slightly and you’ll find that you’ll polish/dry the area’s edges seamlessly. Take your time!

You can use the remaining solution and your cloths to clean the other plastic surfaces of the laptop. Pay attention to the keyboard and other buttons, palm rests and the track pad surface (if you have one of those).

Now that your screen is nice and clean, how do you keep it that way? I keep a can of compressed air nearby to blow the dust off every now and again. You can also use a small camel hair brush – like what photographers to brush their lenses – to gently brush dust off as it accumulates. Never touch the screen with your fingers! You’ll leave oils from your skin which will trap dust on the surface. With a little care you can avoid time consuming whole-screen cleanings for months and months.

A Question of Lubrication

My garage door had been making a little extra noise and seemed to be moving just a little bit slower lately. I did what anyone would do – I checked the log and found that I had neglected my lubrication duties! So I pulled on a pair of latex gloves, grabbed an old towel for the inevitable mess and went to work. I mopped up the old grease from the tracks – the towel collected the gobs of gritty goop nicely. I shot the rollers and the chain with fresh lithium grease. I ran the mechanism several times, paying attention that I’d gotten the grease into all of the moving parts. It appeared that over the years the chain had stretched some and I wondered briefly when it would fail…

And suddenly it stopped, mid-cycle! What’s more, I think I saw wisps of smoke curling from within the motor power head’s housing. Smelled like… and I would later confirm… eau-de-silicon. More precisely, the motor’s startup capacitor was had fried.

Stanley, the manufacturer of the unit, stopped making garage door openers back in the late 90s, the Web told me. Not much chance of finding replacement parts.

Continue reading A Question of Lubrication

Microsoft To Sidestep H-1B Visa Caps

Microsoft, it seems, frustrated with the results of its lobbying efforts, is sidestepping the H-1B visa caps. This fall it plans to open a software development center in nearby Vancouver, British Colombia. Assuming that they can secure employment authorization from Canada, Microsoft will staff the SDC with 200 programmers from China, India and other non-US markets. That’s “highly skilled people affected by immigration issues in the U.S.” according to a Microsoft statement. They may also open to IT workers from Canada even foreign workers whose US visa is expiring. 200 workers doesn’t sound like much, but there’s “room to grow,” according to Microsoft.

How long until others follow Microsoft’s lead?

All this hot on the heels of the Cohen & Grigsby video excerpts assembled by the Programmers’ Guild, as reported by Information Week and other outlets.

Cohen & Grigsby made a response, of course, but the cat was already out of the bag and, frankly, I think that their response was very weak indeed.