Todd Stadler's blog

[untitled #420]

Gee, I have so many friends over in Nigeria and Zimbabwe. It's too bad I can't help them out with their money problems.

[untitled #419]

Long time, no type, hm? Yeah, I've been rather busy with freelance work lately. Add to that that I still haven't set up Cock-a-hoop to automate entering these thoughts, and maybe there's a good excuse lurking somewhere. This comment will make little to no sense by the time you read it.

newszilla

Have I mentioned how much I love Mozilla, my current web browser of choice?

It's not just that it's highly standards compliant, has yet to crash my computer (unlike some browsers I could mention), and isn't riddled with security holes (Ibid.).

No, it's also the fact that Mozilla is open source, which means that anybody can contribute to the code, and therefore any wacky idea can get implemented.

Wacky ideas like, say, allowing one to disable those pop-up windows that persuade you to buy all manner of small, wireless cameras through sheer annoyance and persistence. For example.

It's such a great feature that you'd think every browser would want to have it, in order to appeal to the 99.98% of people who dislike pop-up ads (and the other .01% (sorry, rounding error) of you can go back to your marketing work, thank you).

Specifically, you'd think that Netscape 7, which is basically just a commercial version of Mozilla, based on the same code base with a few goofy features thrown in, would also include the pop-up-killing feature.

But it doesn't. And to figure out why, you have to remember that Netscape is owned by AOL (or, if you're posting to Usenet, AOHell ha ha l0s3r!!1). And AOL makes money by selling ads. Pop-up ads. Lots of 'em.

Or so I've been told. The closest I've come to using the service is employing one of their ubiquitous CD-ROMs as a coaster.

But the good folks at AOL decided it was in their best interest to not include a browser that allowed their users to avoid the ads that the advertisers had paid good money for. Which makes perfect sense.

But it got me thinking. You have a company selling a product. The product could contain something that the people paying for the product want, but the company doesn't give it to them because there are also advertisers paying the company. And the advertisers curry more favor, presumably because they pay more.

Which, when applied to the news media, really got me miffed. Yes, miffed.

Not that this is in the least bit a revelation to me. But I've been irritable lately, so bear with me.

Why trust any company that is sponsored by advertisements? That company may take money from you in the form of subscriptions, but they almost certainly take more money from the advertisers.

As such, expectations for such things as, say, unbiased news in a medium saturated with advertisements, seem kind of silly.

And so all sorts of stories get axed or at the very least buried ? stories that people may very well want to hear more about such as the U.S. blocking a human-rights abuses lawsuit against Exxon Mobil because it might hurt relations with Indonesia and undermine the war on terrorism.

Or John Ashcroft's announced desire for camps for U.S. citizens he deems to be "enemy combatants".

Or the brilliant piece of work that is the American Servicemembers' Protection Act, which, in addition to prohibiting the U.S. from engaging in military or peacekeeping assistance to those countries party to the International Criminal Court, contains this wonderful bit of text:

The President is authorized to use all means necessary and appropriate to bring about the release from captivity of any person described in subsection (b) who is being detained or imprisoned against that person's will by or on behalf of the International Criminal Court.

Which means that if a U.S. soldier is legitimately detained for, say, raping a civilian, then it's okay if George Bush, say, sacks The Hague.

Stellar. And absolutely not reported in any of the major news outlets I usually read. But then, maybe I'm in that small group of dainty folks who would rather read about the non-stop power grabs of the current administration instead of, um, glorified press releases.

the spider and the moth

There's a spider living on a web outside our kitchen window. I've been watching him for several months now.

To my knowledge, the spider hasn't caught much of anything. He (or she, as if I could possibly sex a spider) just sits there a lot. Every once in a while, he seems to disappear for a day, only to return with a new web.

Still, I have come to admire the spider. He makes big plans on how he's going to provide for himself, spinning a big web and all, and then sits back and lets things come to him as they will. It's not that he's lazy, but rather, patient. There is food out there, and eventually some will come to him.

Or he dies, I suppose. Which is the downside to his plan. And yet he's survived several months on this scheme. So he's got that going for him.

Contrast that with the moth that showed up last night. The minute I turned on the kitchen light, he was there up against the window. I watched him for ten minutes (no, really ? I need help), making his way back and forth and back across the window, all the while flapping furiously.

And to what end? To reach a light? Is he so hungry for photons that he would waste critical female moth cruising time repeatedly bumping up against glass?

It was rather apparent to me that no amount of flapping was going to get him through the window pane, and even if he had, he likely would have died upon touching the rather hot light bulb that was his aim.

I'm sure there's a very good and very unpoetic explanation for all this, but I'm shooting for the metaphorical view, of course.

In short, I hope to be more like the spider, patiently sticking to my plans though times may be tough, and less like the moth, which wastes its energy trying to overcome barriers it cannot break, only to reach a goal which is not only not helpful, but in fact potentially lethal.

Maybe I should turn the whole observation into some sort of inspirational greeting card, with a picture of the spider on his web, next to a caption reading "hang in there!"

And maybe there's a dead moth stuck in the web or something, too, and on the inside of the card, it says "Death is part of nature".

Of course, it's not just the advantages in metaphor-space that make the spider better. Consider the following table:

I hope you'll forgive the ending of this article, but I get hives if I go too long being serious. Plus, I didn't want anyone confusing Cock-a-hoop with the Hallmark site.

[untitled #418]

For lunch, I'm having that most special of meals, the "eat whatever is taking up space in the fridge because I need more room to store what I just bought" meal. And it happens that said meal consists of leftover potato kugel and a side of tuna fish. What struck me about the meal was how very cat-food-like it is. Meow.

[untitled #417]

While looking for food at a grocery store whose name shall remain, um, nameless, I saw a sign advertising their latest invention: frushi. Which is, as you may have surmised, fruit sushi. It reminded me of frogurt, which is, of course, frozen yogurt. And then I thought of gogurt, which is yogurt you can ea t while "on the go", or even while "on the couch". I love new foods — it's so easy to tell what they are from their name! I mean, what the heck is arugula? The name tells me nothing. But when I perfect my recipe for frogushi, you'll already know what it is.

summer in the city

"Man it's hot. It's like Africa hot. Tarzan couldn't take this kind of hot."

-Private Epstein, Biloxi Blues

I'm sitting in the office wearing shorts and a t-shirt, having just taken off my sandals in an attempt to let my feet breathe a bit more. It's hot.

They've installed a cadre of fans around the office, which they bought after yesterday's triple-digit (Fahrenheit) temperatures. People are fighting over which direction the fans should point. It's hot!

For the love of Pete, people's heads are exploding from the pressure created by rapidly expanding gasses given off as their brains sublimate! You'd better believe it's hot!!

Okay, it's not that hot, but the office did get up to 91?F in the office. Inside the office. Which, it goes without saying, is in the shade. And theoretically full of conditioned air.

Unfortunately, the air system in our office was designed by the Thermos corporation (or the designer of the McDLT, if that's your metaphorical bag), which is my corporately sponsored way of saying that when it's hot outside, the air conditioner takes a vacation. And who wouldn't? It's too hot to work!

Any of you Texas readers might chuckle to yourself that a former Texan like me has gone soft (or perhaps tepid) up here in the Northwest.

"How," the conversation might go, "can you complain about one day above 100?F when we have that all the time in Texas? And Texas is bigger than Oregon, too!"

Well, gentle reader, something else they have all the time in Texas is air conditioning. In their homes, in their offices, and in the cars they use to drive between those places.

I, on the other hand, find myself walking outside to get to and from work, and when I get home, there is no air conditioning, just a fan and some drawn shades.

And if I sound defensive, it's just that things in my adopted state aren't as large as they are in Texas. And that makes me grouchy.

I have a rule-of-thumb system for determining how hot it is in the office. I count the number of people passed out on the floor, multiply that number by two, and add it to 90, which gives the temperature in degrees Fahrenheit.

Of course, I'm kidding. Maybe if I counted the number of heat-induced "catnaps" ...

No, what I meant to say is, I count the number of times I hear, "it's hot" and add it to 20. That is the temperature in degrees Fahrenheit.

Excuse me while I go sit in an ice-filled sink.

[Editor's note: in the time it took me to get around editing and posting this article, it has gone and gotten all nice and stuff again. "Ha!" you may think. "What a sissy city Portland is, where it is not even 100?F for very long." Yes, you imaginary conversational foil, you win. But if you don't mind, I'm going to go enjoy our lovely weather before it starts raining or something.]

[Author's note: Don't be fooled. We at Cock-a-hoop aren't so big as to have distinct editorial and authorial positions. In fact, we at Cock-a-hoop aren't even a we. It's just me. And I don't even write the articles much any more. I just pipe Eliza's output through a sarcasm filter. This whole paragraph was generated in such a way.]

[untitled #416]

I was searching for a particular ColdFusion function today, and when I found it, I was so relieved to know that it existed that I exclaimed, "Aha!" I felt so odd. I mean, does anybody really say "aha" in earnest anymore? Or is it only people feigning surprise or playing the role of a detective in a play? I think I'll stick to "Eureka!" from now on.

[untitled #415]

I got called a "paragon of men" today because I was reheating my homemade quiche in the microwave. Actually, it probably was less the microwaving and more the amount of love put into the quiche, which was apparent even after it had been refrigerated. Mind you, some of that love was Julia's, but it's hard to differentiate. Still, I like being called a paragon. Make a note of that.

[untitled #414]

Tucked away in this article on Starbucks drink sizes is a rather interesting factoid: 7-11 is considering producing an eighty (80!) ounce cold beverage cup. Never mind that, according to some hastily-conducted internet research, that is actually greater than the average capacity of the human bladder and stomach combined. Consider the sheer physics of designing such a container! Will it fit in a cupholder? Heck, will it fit in a two-door car?

[untitled #413]

Huzzah for cable access! There we were, looking for something to watch while the potato kugel was cooking. And we happened upon a show that involved an old man standing in front of a camera and talking at length. The only time he stopped talking was to take a call - on camera. My first thought was to enjoy the oddness of it all. But then I noticed he was talking about rap. And he wasn't denegrating it as I expected. No, he was giving some pointers to rappers, based on a hip-hop concert he'd recently been to. Things like not holding the microphone so close to the mouth, and making it easier to understand the lyrics. He also reviewed a biography of John Waters, of whom he wasn't too fond. I really want to be that guy when I grow up. Open-minded, and just crazy enough to keep talking, even if no one's listening. Because someone just might be.

a message from the mgmt.

I feel compelled to note that the relative paucity of recent postings is not completely unwarranted.

Indeed, I have been working on, or at the very least thinking about, adding an entire second column of content to Cock-a-hoop. Double your pleasure, for a zero-fold increase in what you're paying to experience it.

Or, really, a two- or thirteen-fold increase. Zeros are funny that way. Except the Japanese ones. Never mind.

Point being, I noticed a reluctance on my part to post short, quippy, link-y postings to the web page as it is. I didn't want to be a blog, I guess. Sounds too much like "blob".

But such self-imposed limitations prevented me from noting the short, quippy things I thought of, either forcing me to beef them up to article length or forgetting them after a few days.

Friends, if I have learned one thing about the Internet, it's that humanity need never again forget anything, provided that we have tape backups. What sort of naive, self-indulgent thoughts was I having on September 10, 2001? Now we all know.

As such, I'm working on shorter, quippier content for this new column, and more importantly, the technology that will bring you my smallest, most mundane thoughts made while I was within typing distance of a computer.

For, you see, as with most things Cock-a-hoopian, this new column will be an exercise in applying newly-gained knowledge, specifically MySQL. No more shoddy flat files for you! No, now content much like what you're already used to will come from a database. Which, in my opinion, makes it already way more interesting. I hope you will be similarly generous in your praise.

Of course, all of this means that I will now have to ask myself whether the thing I'm writing for Cock-a-hoop is small or large, quippy or ranty. So bear with me as I work it all out.

Or, if you have no idea what I'm talking about (and yet you find this different than what you usually find in this space), then just wait a few days, or weeks, and it'll all be clearer. Maybe.

Huzzah! Long live the blog!

[untitled #411]

Man, there's a lot of news out there. And there's even more non-news out there to read on the web. Put together, there's a lot of stuff out there to read, and my attempts to keep on top of it all are helping me to keep from doing anything productive, dangit. Why can't nothing happen for a week or so while I make an earnest attempt at getting some work done? Really, people.

from the mouths of tots

Talk at work today turned to odd quotes from co-worker Sue's three-year-old son (no I haven't gone soft - this stuff is genuinely humorous ... to me).

She first told a story of the stray cat in the neighborhood, who has been dubbed Sweet Kitty from Corny Spot. When asked where "Corny Spot" is, the child responded it was in San Francisco, California. Which makes sense, really.

But more importantly, I think that "Sweet Kitty from Corny Spot" would make an excellent song title. Maybe some kind of blues tune, or hot jazz.

Of course, the lyrics themselves would deal with crude sexual metaphors, but isn't that always the way?

But the boy's endearing lyricism didn't end there. Oh no.

He was also noted to have said, "The sunset! The sunset! I wish to be eaten by it!" early one evening. Just hearing that, I was floored.

I mean, here he is, three years old, and he's not only mastered the passive voice, but taken a serious stab at metaphor, or surrealism, or whatever the heck he was thinking. I have no idea.

Suffice to say that that line will appear in the next (which is to say the first) song I release. Maybe the song will be about all sorts of things that eat me ? sunsets, tires, giant ironic cookies, angst, uncertainty, doubt, fear ... oh, wait.

All of this reminds me of Girlfriend Julia's youngest sister's chant as a 2-year-old of, and I will put this in block quotes for extra emphasis,

Super baby, on the world!
Ooyeah, ooyeah, ooyeah, ooyeah!
Rainbow order on the housetop!

I mean, really, who needs mind-expanding drugs to write lyrics when you can just walk into the closest nursery and steal ideas from kids who not only haven't learned how not to talk nonsense, but also haven't learned anything about copyright law! Sweet!

[untitled #410]

Stupid PGE and their almost-weekly power glitches made me lose this screenshot the first time around, but fortunately, the ad servers at The New York Times repeated their oddly crass behavior. Doesn't anybody check this stuff?

[untitled #409]

I also derived a few chuckles from this Times article on China vs. Taiwan's president Chen (registration required). The whole scenario over there is just ridiculous. If China were any less powerful, they would sound like a bunch of loons, akin to a British parliamentarian noting that while America had had its fun, it was time for it to rejoin the British Empire, no joking around anymore. But no, China is very serious and seriously thick, so never mind what's gone on in the past fifty years, there's only one China and we're just not sure who's leading it right now. Or where it's headquartered. Maybe we can start calling Taiwan "China" as well, and when people get confused as to which one we're talking about, we can specify "the small one" or "the large one".

[untitled #408]

As I was reading a New York Times article on new discoveries in anthropology (registration required) (summary: they found some skulls; bickering ensues), I found it humorous that various human evolutionary levels were associated with particular skill levels in making and using stone tools. Because, while I may know my way around a web site, if one were to drop me into the middle of Chad with nothing more than a smile as my umbrella, I doubt I would rise to the proficiency of a Homo erectus, much less one of them fancy sapiens boys.

[untitled #407]

Okay, no more dancing to "Bombs Over Baghdad" (MP3 format) at parties. That stuff's way too aerobic for me. I get dehydrated. Dang!

[untitled #406]

Or maybe I'm just in a happy mood today because I'm working from home. Which means that not only do I have the aforementioned HTML editor, but it's running on a much faster machine. And I just walked the block over to my landlord's house — in my slippers, mind you — and dropped off my rent, stopping on the way back to nibble on some salmonberries that were growing in someone's yard. And it's Friday. Whee!

[untitled #405]

I love my newly downloaded HTML editor. I'm sure I'm not using most of its features, but then I usually scoff at the need for such things. Syntax highlighting, a nice search and replace functionality, and a built-in FTP client made it more compelling than my old-but-crappy friend, Notepad. I still haven't bothered to use the copy of Dreamweaver I own, but for some reason, I like this program not only enough to use it, but to waste your time talking about it!

[untitled #412]

Some quick links to recent articles I found useful:

• The "crime wave" against girls
• Kathleen Harris screws up. Uh, again. Ah, Florida!
• Nevada's marijuana initiative(registration required) I've never smoked pot, but I really hope this passes.
• Yet more guerrilla marketing. I don't know whether I think it's clever or scary.
• Fighting monks. Sigh. Frankly, I think it was funnier when Ruben Bolling did it.