The Most Basic Of Skills

This one made me literally walk away from my computer. Seriously, I was so dumbfounded that I had no words. Where do I begin?

So the other day I was asked to use a program that I maintain to create some sample files for a client using their data so they can have an idea of what sort of data gets returned. Simple enough request. Get it all the time. This little program returns regular old text files named in a variety of ways, but they can all be opened in notepad, which is the most basic text file reader known to man since DOS's "edit" command.

They didn't tell me where to send the files, so I got them all made up and send them to the people in charge of this client's account, and asked if they wanted to send the files or should I and to whom. Where I lost all my words was the response I got back. It read (word for word): "I am unable to open the files. Can you send them to (so-n-so) directly?"

This person cannot open a basic text file. Every program on the planet can see the contents of this file. You can use any word processor on any platform. You could put that file into Unix and still open it. You can open that file and read it in nearly every program that can open a file without any issues at all (well, not Paint, but why would you even try?). The file type is so basic, most email programs won't even block it, and this person can't open it.

We live in a computer age where opening programs is a part of daily life. I could send this file to my phone and still open it to see its contents. Heck, I could probably text it, and still be able to crack it open. How is it possible this person could not open the files?

I would say it takes all kinds, and I'm sorry, but this is the type of person who would get better reception from a potato than a satellite dish.

Ugh.

Did Boba Fett Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru?

In a rare case of me not doing my own writing, I offer a link for today since I found it terribly fascinating. Hopefully, it doesn't go down anytime soon.

In this article, the author offers a series of explanations rooted within the canon of the Star Wars universe presenting why he believes that Boba Fett was responsible for the deaths of both the Jawas and their Sandcrawler as well as the single biggest event to set Luke Skywalker on his Jedi path: the murder of his Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru along with the destruction of their homestead.

If you've been in Star Wars since the beginning, as I have, and you know the movies inside and out, then you'll probably find this to be a very interesting read, and you know, some very good points are made throughout.

Top 10 Reasons Boba Fett Killed Luke Skywalker's Aunt and Uncle

Enjoy.

That Annoying Van

So two days ago, I went out to start my trusty van using the procedure I have been using for awhile to make sure that it does start (I turn the key to on, wait 30 seconds, then turn it over), and it didn't start. Well, to begin with, it did try to turn over, but halfway though that, it sounded like it choked. It was weird. After that, it gave me nothing, and none of my little tricks worked to make it go. Those tricks being to wait longer with it in on, and manically keep turning the key to start until it kicks it over. I was dead in the water.

As a result, I had to keep the car. Well, it was too late for the Queen to take me to work and then get everyone else around on time, so it was for me to be the late one (since I was already) and take everyone else to their destinations, which also means I needed to pick them all up. That's the smallest part of the issue, though. The big part is the problem itself. I've never been able to figure out what is causing this bizarre issue. If I just turn it on, it won't start. If I let it set for 30 seconds, it works. Granted, I'd not tested any of the components yet, and I know that's the next step.

That being said, it was nice to spend time with everyone that morning even though there was a little stress with the car problem. After I got home that evening, I went out to see if the van would start at all figuring my next step would be decided from there. I got in, and it started right up. Well, since it worked the way it had been, I decided to let it go, and sort it out over the weekend. You know, when I have time to take something apart.

Well, the morning came, and guess what? No start. Not even a tick of a start. The one main difference I notice at this point is that the solenoid isn't clicking. This brings me back to my original belief in that the solenoid is dead and my turning the ignition to on prior to starting had been basically "charging it" where the weird pop I heard that first morning was likely the solenoid completely dying.

To add insult to injury that morning, my ignition tumbler has been stubborn in that sometimes the key won't turn. I always have to tap it a few times with a very large wrench to pop the key into place and turn it. Well, on that morning, it took quite a few taps to get it to turn as well. I think the whole starter system is falling apart, but one thing at a time. I needed to get home, pull the starter, and get it to Autozone to test it.

So my task yesterday evening was to pull that starter out and most likely replace it. I found where it was located in the engine compartment and like most vehicles I've owned, this one looked to be a pain to get out of there. I eventually found where I could use a very long ratchet extension to get at one bolt, but the other bolt appeared to have lost its head entirely. I was very cross about that. I spent probably an hour trying to work the thing loose until it occurred to me that it was bolted to the transmission, which, you may recall, is the first thing that had to be fixed on the van. I thought that surely the guys who did the transmission didn't shear off a bolt head and leave it.

I looked more thoroughly and sure enough, the starter was bolted to the transmission from the opposite side of where the other bolt was attached. No wonder I couldn't find it. Got that loose and it fell right off (you know, after I disconnected the solenoid wires and stuff). Victory. I was off to Autozone after dinner.

At Autozone, they took the starter over to the tester, and as my luck tends to be, it passed the test. However, the guy who ran the test noted that while the machine passed it, it sounded weak. He did not want to just recommend the $100+ replacement since the machine did pass it, but that's what it sounded like to him. I figured it was that or the solenoid anyway, so I decided to replace it.

Here's the funny part. If you ask someone who knows about cars, they'll tell you that the starter is one of the sturdiest components and you rarely have to replace them. I've had to replace 3 starters on vehicles I've owned, and every last one of them passed the test at Autozone. I have some serious doubts about that tester.

Anyway, I popped the starter on the van, and it fixed the problem. In fact, I never realized how rough that van was actually starting. When I turn the key now, it just purrs right to life where it always sounded like it struggled before. Just one more thing to listen for when I buy used again, I suppose.

Man, I really got screwed on the van. See why I'm in no hurry to let them know about their financial screw up? That dealership strikes me as a slip shod operation.

The Real Victim in Mary Poppins

I recently re-watched Mary Poppins for the I-don't-know-how-manyth time, and noted something that I've noticed before but didn't give too much thought. Right at the top of the movie, Dick Van Dyke, as Bert, is dancing around as a street musician entertaining the crowd by coming up with impromptu poems about them. He pops a couple off to applause and laughter (while introducing the minor character of Andrew, who is a dog, and apparently, Mary Poppins speaks dog) until he comes across a nice old lady called "Miss Persimmon." Remember, dear Miss Persimmon?

That's the only picture that came up in a Google search for her. Look how happy she is to have been noticed. If you consider the formation of her name being "miss" instead of "mrs," that would indicate that she is an unmarried woman, and at her age, she would be referred to as an old maid. Who knows why? But at this moment, she's overjoyed that this young man not only acknowledged her, but can actually come up with a clever little poem just for her. Her day has been made.

What happens next? Well, the wind blows, and instead of launching into something clever about Miss Persimmon, Bert talks about the wind changing and something to happen that has all happened before. The crowd can see that he has clearly lost his mind, but before they can pop him off to the loony bin, he jumps into a lively rendition pre-reprise of Step in Time, dancing around the crowd like a maniac.

However, if you watch the background here, you'll notice that Miss Persimmon quickly turns and leaves the crowd entirely. She does not stay to watch his performance and is not there for the applause once he is done. You see, having been called out by the young Bert, she doesn't understand why he did not come up with something about here, and when he stares off and then launches into something else, she is devastated.

Miss Persimmon does not appear the rest of the movie. Granted, most of the people in that first scene don't either, but the point is that within the context of the movie, this poor little old lady had her feelings smashed in the first scene by one of the main characters, and probably spent the duration of the film crying in her brandy at home.

Next time you watch Mary Poppins, remember dear Miss Persimmon. She just wants to be loved.

A Good Sense Of Humor

It's important to laugh. Laughter has been medically proven to be therapeutic to just about every sort of problem you can experience. It releases some sort of physical mumbo jumbo that allows your body to speed healing and promote good health. A big part of laughing is having a good sense of humor, which is very important when dealing with extended family.

With the Queen's family, I became a one joke wonder when I managed to poke my eye out with a screwdriver. They wasted absolutely no time in ensuring that every single eye joke known to man was exhausted and new ones were thought up as quickly as possible. So the very positive outcome there was that I am not sensitive at all to eye-related comments. The Queen even got me a bookmark that says, "It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye, and then hey, free eyeball."

On the other side of the coin, the other night at dinner with my parents and siblings, we were asking my dad where he would like to have dinner on his birthday (which is today - happy birthday, dad). We often encourage family members to pick somewhere they like to eat or would enjoy, and he laughed and said QuikTrip (a local convenience store, if you're not in the know, but their food is really good). Rather than ask him to pick something serious, we all proceeded to talk about exactly what we would choose from QuikTrip (the Jalapeño sausage is especially tasty). I'm sure he'll end up picking somewhere else, but it was amusing.

I recently read the best suggestion of all time on how respond to people who post pictures of themselves fishing for compliments. When you see one of those fabulous bathing suit photos, comment on something in the background. The example given has two women in bikinis posing and smiling. The comments on the picture related to the Dodge Charger and Ford Mustang sitting in the background. The picture's poster was all put out that no one commented on her bikini body.

And finally, the Queen often tells me about something that plays on the K95 radio station every morning called 2nd chance date or something like that where someone calls in and laments that they had a great date with so-n-so, but they never called back. Some of these have resulted in shenanigans worthy of a rom-com. One involved a woman leaving half way through a date, and when they spoke of her reasoning, it turned out that the guy had dated her mother at one point, and she could not handle that. Another had a woman calling in about a date she went on 2 weeks ago with no call back, but the name and number she gave turned out to be the guy she had been dating for 8 months rather than the one she dated two weeks ago. He did not want to discuss them on the radio. Another was a guy named Jack who dated a woman named Jill (I know, I couldn't believe it either), and although they got along great, she could not deal with the endless supply of "Jack & Jill" jokes for the rest of her life. She should have just laughed about it and moved on.

Anyway...

So no long dissertations today. Just something short and amusing. Smile. It's good for you.

A Solid Piece of Advice

Advice comes from the strangest of places sometimes. There was one piece of advice that I received that stuck with me ever since since hearing it shook me right to the core. It was an absolute bit of truth of biblical proportions, and it came from the unlikeliest of sources.

Back in 2000, I was looking for a job. I answered lots of ads, and ended up in all kinds of weird places that I never went back to. One such place was a renovated QuikTrip near where my parents live, and while this place has had many names before and after this business was there, at the time I walked in through those doors, it was a place that sold vacuum cleaners. I did not know this when I responded to the ad, and like this type of job tends to do, they told me nothing about it over the phone.

I walked in and sat with a room of people curious about the job, and got pitched this job where you get paid for demonstrating a vacuum cleaner for people in their homes. They boasted screening and set appointments, and "all you have to do is" demo a certain number of times and you get paid regardless of whether one sells or not. If you get a sale, you get more. After watching the demo, I figured I had nothing better to do, so I thought I'd see how I did.

If you'd read this blog for any length of time, you can probably guess exactly how that went. Catastrophic failure would be a fairly accurate description. I made exactly bupkis doing this job. The X number of appointments never happened. Ever. In fact, the expectation turned out to be completely unrealistic, and it also turned out that no one ever achieved the sales necessary for the mega payout either. It was setup to look good, and pay as little as possible. Pretty much everyone quit very quickly.

While I was there, however, I was talking to the seedy head sales guy (who looked exactly like a seedy vacuum cleaner salesman), and he asked me about doing something. I can't remember what he asked, but I responded with the gainsay response that one gives when one forgets to do something. I told him that I didn't have time. That's when he said it. Pay attention to this one.

You make time for what's important to you.

When he said that, I just stopped and looked at him. It was as if the entire world of time and things to do just crashed down on top of me. It ripped time from an unreachable shelf and made it something that I controlled, but showed me that the 24 hours I get in a day are mine to do with as I please. There are obligations and options, but when it comes right down to it, I make that decision. This bit of advice ended up being coupled with another piece I got probably the year before or so from just as unlikely a source.

Before I was out of a job, I worked for that Fireplace Company where I lost my eye. At that company there was a guy who was older, but not entirely grizzled yet, who drove the forklift around the yard. again, I don't remember the circumstances of the discussion we were having, but he said I could leave and do something or another. Naturally, we were on the clock in the middle of the work day, so I said I couldn't leave. Then this exchange happened.

"You can do whatever you want," he said.

I paused for a moment, having never considered that very obvious notion, but then cleverly (I thought) responded, "Yeah, but there are consequences."

"Exactly," he said.

What does this add up to? A bit of wisdom that I'll impart to you, my lovely readers, on this Monday. Maybe you know this. Maybe you never thought about it. But within this is a bit of freedom you might not have noticed.

Your life is yours to live as you please. No one controls you. No one can tell you what to do with it. You have the freedom to choose where you spend your time, but of course, some things are more important than others, and you always have to weigh the consequences of doing versus not doing. You will always, however, make the time to do what you feel is important.

If family is important to you, you will find time to spend with them. If you love movies, you'll always be able to find a couple hours to watch one. If you love reading, you'll read. While choosing to do these things, you will choose not to do something else. You will have to live with those consequences. Some consequences are negligible, such as choosing a movie over a video game - your gamerscore might suffer. Some are more severe, such as choosing video games over the family - the relationship might suffer.

But in the end, the choice is yours. What is most important to you?

The Horror Of Christmas

It's the beginning of October, which means it's that time of year where people complain to no end about stores preparing for Christmas. I think it's weird, in a way, how people make their lives so strictly compartmentalized. This day is for this; this month is for that; we don't talk about this until this date. Nothing follows a more universal ruleset than Christmas.

Now, for me, I don't really care. I play an iPod with 12,000 songs on shuffle every day, and in there are a couple hundred Christmas tunes. They pop up year round. There are other people who also don't mind a year round Christmas. One of the Queen's grandmothers, for instance, kept a Christmas tree setup all year, though I suspect it was primarily because she didn't want to deal with the setup and takedown herself since she lived alone.

For others, it's a major huge deal though. Christmas is not discussed, referenced, or acknowledged until the day after Thanksgiving. No exceptions. They completely avoid Hobby Lobby from July through November. I overheard a conversation today where someone heard the song "Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree" on the radio, and actually said it made them sick and demanded the station be changed. The nature of the ensuing conversation usually revolves around "let's get through first" before ending that statement series with Thanksgiving, of course.

Of course, listening to these conversations also reminds me of how much people like to fit in with each other, since the strongest of personalities is always the one to start this sort of discussion. They always want validation when they speak, so naturally, the other people who chime in agree and offer their own "horror stories" of early Christmas observations. And someone always mentions Hobby Lobby's tendency to start bringing the decorations out in July (though someone defended this recently by noting that any Christmas-related crafts would need to be started early, which justifies their bringing these things out when they do).

For the most part, everyone agrees that certain holidays should be relegated to certain times of the year only, and thinks it's all a marketing deal, and while that may be true, there is also nothing wrong with discussing topics whenever you feel like it. There is also nothing wrong with a station playing Christmas-related music whenever they feel like it.

This is just another case of people needing to get over themselves.

In my humble opinion, of course.