Todd Stadler's blog

[untitled #475]

This New York Times article (yes, registration is required) on software that screenwriters use to help them write scripts is interesting, if only for the movies mentioned that apparently benefit from such programs.

The Jungle Book 2. Looney Tunes: Back in Action. The sequel to The Candidate.

One imagines that the directors and producers are also using software that apparently is programmed to look for movies thirty years old or more that haven't had sequels made of them yet.

Oh, the creativity of Hollywood!

double plus un-bad

You know, there's one nice thing that can be seen in this whole UN/Iraq debacle.

The rotating nature of the non-veto countries in the Security Council means that all of those small countries out there have a chance, should a war be threatened when they're in the council, to have the US pretend to care about them for a while.

And maybe even have Bush call them our friend or win some financial aid or something.

(Not that I'm saying that other nations are buyable; that is not an acceptable proposition.)

It's like musical chairs or a lottery for countries.

un-programming

So according to that Washington Post article and pretty much everybody else with a brain, Bush already has his mind made up on war with Iraq.

As one diplomat says U.S. officials said to him, "You are not going to decide whether there is war in Iraq or not. That decision is ours, and we have already made it. It is already final. The only question now is whether the council will go along with it or not."

If so, does that mean we can finally edit out the line of code in Ari Fleischer that makes him insert the disingenuous clause "should the decision be made to go to war" every forty seconds? Please?

un-relevant, a more sober analysis

So our comandeer-in chief has decided that the UN could become irrelevant.

And, according to the Washington Post, Bush has already decided to go to war, no matter what.

Oh wait, Ari Fleischer said that "there remains a possibility for peace ... if Saddam Hussein disarms".

Oh, never mind, I just remembered that Bush told Saddam, "the game is over."

Anyhow, I'll grant that the UN's future may, in fact, be at stake, but maybe not as Bush would have it.

Bush wants me (and you too, buddy) to think that if the Security Council doesn't enforce Resolution 1441, then the UN is meaningless.

Gee, and the Republicans had always loved the UN prior to this.

I'll grant that the nations that unanimously passed 1441 weren't probably thinking everything through when they finagled its wording.

While the resolution doesn't explicitly call for force to be used, it's hard to imagine what they thought the United States would interpret "serious consequences" to mean. No more sweet free trade deals?

That said, it still doesn't explicitly call for force to be used, and as such, a lack of military action technically doesn't even violate the wording of the resolution.

Or so says li'l ol' me sitting here in my non-international-law office.

Regardless, there are many ways that this situation could be dealt with that don't involve "shocking and awing" the crap out of a populace.

But the Bush administration hasn't bothered thinking of any, so it's their way or the fairway. I mean highway.

Which is, of course, the kind of attitude that indicates that Bush already thinks the UN is irrelevant.

After all, if he's going to act the same way, regardless of how the other countries vote, then the UN isn't making much of a difference, is it?

But then, the UN's danged if it does and danged if it doesn't.

Because any organization that lets itself be bullied around by a powerful, but singular, entity like the United States isn't terribly relevant to begin with.

Of course, I don't believe that merely having the council agree with Bush makes it a rubber stamp, but that's the flip side to the game Bush is playing.

Either the council is irrelevant because of how its votes align with the United States, or it isn't, right?

It'd be one thing if many other countries seemed to be pushing for war without presssure from the U.S.

Or if what support there is weren't tainted by apparent offers of agreements or aid.

Oh, it's all so hazy. The only thing I'm really sure of is that this entry will soon be irrelevant. Soon like now.

un-relevant, a heavy-handed allegory

There's a major problem with speeding in Portland. You see people doing it every day, both on highways and surface streets.

What's baffling is that there are several laws on local, county, and state books that make it clear that speeding is against the law.

And yet it is extremely rare that I ever see anybody enforcing these laws. Cars go zooming by all around me at well over fifty-five miles-per-hour.

Clearly, something needs to be done.

So I've decided that the right thing to do is declare my local, county, and state governments irrelevant, consigning them to the dustbin of history.

Oh, sure, some might ask if enforcement of this law isn't up to the discretion of the entities that originally declared the speed limits.

Others might claim that while the laws are not enforceable every hour of every day of every year, people are still pulled over for excessive speeding. Or that without these laws, the speeding problem would be much worse.

This latter, so-called "containment" theory, is utter bilge. Sure, law-abiding citizens are cowed into obeying the law by seeing speed limit signs, but all it takes is one crazy driver to kill a whole lot of people.

And this is why my city, county, and state governments are irrelevant, and I have decided to have nothing further to do with them.

Furthermore, I have decided to start pulling over speeding drivers myself, since the local police won't do it.

Anybody driving fifty-six or more miles-per-hour can expect to see me pulling them over soon.

Of course, I don't have an official police car, so they might not initially recognize me or give me the respect I deserve, but I will make them pull over, using force, if necessary.

Then they will respect me. Nobody laughs at a gun.

Yes, a gun. How else will I enforce the speed limit?

After all, speeding drivers have been known to kill people before, and while simply going over the speed limit might not of itself seem dangerous, I will not let these people threaten our roads anymore.

To anyone who doubts that this needs to be done now, need I remind you that there were four times as many people in the United States killed by speeding in 1999 as were killed by terrorists in the past decade?

And that was four years ago! How long must we let this go on?

Clearly this problem needs to be dealt with, and it needs to be dealt with now.

If these various governments will not enforce their own laws, then I will lead a coalition of random citizens (most of whom won't actually help me enforce anything, and a few of whom I had to promise to give donuts to) to start pulling over speeders on our roads.

The only thing I would ask is that other people not try to do the same thing I'm doing.

If everyone goes out there and tries to enforce the speed limit themselves, things could get confusing.

After all, I often speed myself in order to catch up to those who are speeding . How else would I catch them? But I wouldn't want anyone to try to pull me over for that reason.

So if you see a maroon Toyota Camry trying to get you to pull over when you're speeding, please be nice about it, pull over, and pay the $1 million fine.

I know it seems like an awful lot to pay, but trust me, you cannot put a price on freedom.

Thank you and good night.

[untitled #474]

You know, if this whole war with Iraq doesn't result in some seriously liberated Iraqis somewhere down the line, I'll have to ... to, well ... um, I'll have to sink even further into deepest, darkest cynicism.

Also, I may seriously reconsider my plans to vote for the incumbent party in future federal elections.

[untitled #473]

I never read interviews with authors. That said, last Sunday's Washington Post has the funniest author interview I've ever read. (from I woke up in a strange place)

[untitled #472]

Well, it looks like it's time to live in fear again, admonitions to the contrary notwithstanding (telling me to "be ready" for nuclear attacks somehow isn't calming).

Thankfully, that also means it's time to chuckle nervously while we wait for the end to come.

Personally, I have to wonder if Bush's administration has sent a subtle message to those commie liberals in the Texas state legislature with this image.

balancing the checkbook

A quick lesson on how checks and balances work in our government:

The problem is that there are some unelected agencies that try to run roughshod over people who are simply trying to do their job.

Since these agencies seemed undeterred by the first check leveraged against them, which is that of obstructing justice and waiting until this whole brouhaha blows over, a second, more extreme check was needed.

Fortunately, our wise forefathers conceived of just such an imbalance of power, and so made allowances for the executive branch to subtly mention to said agency that if they don't back down they might 'accidentally' lose millions of dollars.

And thus was our government allowed to do its job and justice preserved once again!

In related news, Bush announced a new "freedom tax" for all people filing lawsuits against the federal government.

Suspected enemy combatants are exempt from this tax, even though they are not rich, because they aren't allowed to see a lawyer anyhow.

spammers gone wild

As they say, three things in life are certain: death, taxes, (although strangely enough, not taxes on death), and never-ending spam in your inbox.

But in these topsy-turvy days, have even the spammers gone mad?

Increasingly, my inbox is filled less with offers to make body parts (some of which I don't have) bigger or to bolster the Nigerian economy, and more with, well, gibberish.

From: scotthoytbvpi@[xxxxxxxx.xxx]
To: Starriann
Subject: ** All For You. **

antidiuretic , substance to slow urine formation
Your home refinance loan is approved!
To get your approved amount go here.
To be excluded from further notices go here.
antidiuretic , substance to slow urine formation 3805wzGZ0-77l11

I haven't been called antidiuretic since I was a little boy.

No, really, is this meant to somehow entice me to buy a house? Are they trying to use cognitive dissonance to distract my brain long enough to e-mail them my credit card number?

The e-mail does have this strangely haiku-like simplicity to it, especially beginning and ending with that same hypnotic phrase. But then I'm jerked out of my trance by that stupid "3805wzGZ0-77l11".

I hate it when people say "3805wzGZ0-77l11" to me.

From: smmfilesNAMES.txt (rgwf@[xxxxxxxx.xxx]) ;
Reply-To: smmfilesNAMES.txt (rgwf@[xxxxxxxx.xxx]) ;
To: Customers@[xxxxxxxx.xxx]
Subject: C:smmfilesSUBJECT.txt

UNSUBSCRIBE AT THE BOTTOM
-----------------------------
Dear #recipient# ,
[rest of e-mail omitted]

Whoops! Looks like some poor spammer, who was this close to making millions of $$$ from home, didn't read the manual on how to set up his crappy spammer software.

You know you've bungled it when you've somehow made your spam even more impersonal.

From: Anna_256_Pritka@[xxxxxxxx.xxx]
To: user@[xxxxxxxx.xxx]
Subject: Hi ! Random word of digits with length 1 to 17 37628606325642

[e-mail body omitted]

I like this spam's subject line. It's strangely "meta" and yet refreshingly honest at the same time. I can respect that.

The next two e-mails seem to come from the same school of spamming.

From: isaac566@[xxxxxxxx.xxx]
To: blender_contest@[xxxxxxxx.xxx]
Subject: Sfvq Nqwh27 come on over and see what you can save on these crtdrdgs

Olyd Yqvbpckicha Msun48 4135055118863864 35601 XGFXWHLJCYLTHCKWMWR
[a-c.GIF]
not at this time --off please 4Q01D4T7aAxlBnQXrt vefuewkvgreusgqmecophvnoaq lisnoqtgemecnbbmsjk
not at this time-- thanks anyway

Or the slightly more succinct

From: girly@[xxxxxxxx.xxx]
To: blender_contest@[xxxxxxxx.xxx]
Subject: jrphx Spvb ARe they charging at your establishment 7970zzPQ1-904dCyJ50-18

lsjiu 3814367 [l] cyu k87cmu
dvdehtjhgheylpsalorevsklcktnijes yfwwmdjcqusjemphmylqsgukityefe
5218hUl6

You know, I'm pretty used to spams having random characters in their subject line, presumably so they can track who responds to their awesome offers.

But what I find so admirable about these spams is that they seem to have taken that concept to a whole new level, instead replacing their entire spiel with monkey-type.

I don't know, maybe somebody tracked down these particular spammers, found out where they lived, broke into their house and started to beat them up mid-spam, and I was lucky enough to get the result.

Brings whole new meaning to "not at this time, off please" doesn't it? I doubt I could be so noble while someone (justifiably) beat the living tar out of me.

From: jjwbAlysa (ajnancey89@[xxxxxxxx.xxx])
To: You@[xxxxxxxx.xxx]
Subject: I have a crush on you. wmx

This is our second attempt at contacting you.
We have been hired to contact you
because someone you know is interested in you.
Please follow the link below to find out who.

http://fff49857548.com/mwc19/
No more email here http://fff49857548.com/nomore.php

kpueuglctgwvmsfstiexovergj

When you first read this one, you might think "oh, well, they don't speak English. That 'kpueuglctgwvmsfstiexovergj' part gives it away, right? I mean, that's not English, is it? We never learned that in our vocubulary lessons."

But what you failed to notice is that a decent chunk of the e-mail is in perfect English. In fact, the only thing that's weird about this e-mail is the names used.

To a super-sleuth like yours truly, this is a dead giveaway that this spam comes from space aliens. Aliens are always fastidious in learning the details of the language of the people they're infiltrating.

But they always screw up in one subtle way, and here, it is obvious that that way was in skipping the lesson on "choosing good American names".

So when you meet a guy who tells you his name is "fff49857548", it's probably best to call the Department of Homeland Security.

Incidentally, this is how we find most of the terrorists hanging out in the United States. I mean, if your neighbor claims his name is "Majid Al-Ghaslan", well, that's not an American name, is it? So off to the military brig with him to face charges at some unspecified time!

My bad, this wasn't supposed to be a political entry.

i am a fame whore

So they're going to put me on the TV. Specifically, the MTV.

For those of you keeping count (hi, Mom!), this will sort of be the second time I've been on MTV.

The first, far less interesting and yet more surprising time was when MTV's The Year in Rock for 1995 had a section on the Internet gaining popularity.

As introduced by Kurt Loder saying something about how there isn't only porn on the Internet, a screen shot from The T.W.I.N.K.I.E.S. Project scrolled by, with my name clearly visible.

At the time, I was first made aware of such micro-fame by a sharp-eyed dormmate who just happened to be watching the program.

This time, I've been much more involved in the whole process, and I've even been given notice of my appearance before it happens, but you'll still have to be a good observer to ensure you won't miss me, I bet.

It all started when I got an e-mail from somebody claiming to be working for MTV.

Or rather, someone working for a company doing production work for MTV, which was why, he explained, he didn't have an e-mail address ending in "@mtv.com". I was, of course, slightly dubious.

I was made all the more doubtful when I found out that his company's name is Plum Productions. The reasons for my doubt will be made clear if one visits www.plumproductions.com, but I don't recommend you do that, at least not on company time (ahem).

It later turned out that there are at least two Plum Productions in the world, the one at the aforementioned URL being a porn company, and the other a seemingly respectable producer of TV shows and commercials.

This latter one has its Web site at www.plumprod.com, which unfortunately doesn't completely avoid looking like a porn site URL itself.

Anyhow, the man who contacted me, Terry Anderson (no, not that Terry Anderson) eventually called me up and explained the dilly-yo.

He was working on a new show, to be called MTV's Big Urban Myth, which would explore all sorts of urban legends.

And he wanted to talk to me about Twinkies. Because, you know, I am the world's preeminent expert on that moist, golden snack cake.

Of course, when I say things like that, I have to wonder how I got to be in this position.

Eight years ago, I found myself goofing off with a friend at college, when I should have been studying for finals. Being geeky slackers, we put our results up on the then-nascent Internet because ... well, I'm not sure anyone really has a good reason for putting something on the Internet.

But in the intervening eight years, our names, or at least the Web page we made, have been mentioned in a whole lot of places.

Meanwhile, almost nobody (including myself, it would seem) cares about the electrical engineering degree I was supposed to have been studying for in the first place.

Is it any coincidence I quit my job at Intel to be a Web designer? There's a lesson in here for the kids, but it's probably a very bad one.

Anyhow, Terry Anderson wanted to know what I knew about the shelf life of a Twinkie.

I get e-mails about this all the time, so you'd think that I might have looked into it at some point. But you'd also probably assume that I might have bothered to update the Web page that made me famous in the past several years.

Either way, you'd be wrong, having massively underestimated my inertia.

Besides, it's really hard to do a shelf-life test that, as many people theorize, could take ten years or more.

I'll plug a Twinkie into a wall outlet and take a photo for yuks and all, but I don't have such an abiding interest in the minutiae of the Twinkie to sit around for ten years, you know?

Still, I had a guess about a Twinkie's shelf life, which was that it wasn't very long.

I based this on my attempt once to collect all the different colors of Hostess Sno-Balls (no, they don't pay me to do this stuff, I just have issues).

You may not be bored enough to have noticed, but Sno-Balls change colors with the seasons, turning green around St. Patrick's Day, orange around Halloween, and so on.

I had maybe five or six colors before I noticed that the pink Sno-Balls were also blue and fuzzy. I think there was a hole in the package.

Either way, not a good sign for a supposedly infinite shelf life. I mean, they do have an expiration date, right?

I told all this (and more!) to Terry, and he somehow mistook my incessant rambling for knowledge of some kind and decided to put me on his show.

Seeing as the film crew for the show was lazy, they declined to come visit me in sunny Portland, Oregon, so they asked if I could travel up to Seattle for an interview.

Being lazy but not beyond a little quid pro quo, I asked if they would put me up in a hotel. After all, if there's one thing I know about, it's corporate largesse.

I was pleasantly surprised that they actually offered to pay for my hotel room, in a nice hotel conveniently located in sunny downtown Seattle, no less!

So girlfriend Julia and I trained up to Seattle and had ourselves a gay old time on the town, eating at restaurants nice enough so as to blow any savings we made from cheap train tickets and a free hotel room.

Which, in one sense, is the end of the story.

I somehow got to be famous and I got something free for it. I win!

But, of course, there's also this whole TV aspect to it.

As I'd mentioned before, I was never 100% sure what was going on with this situation.

The guy claimed to be working for MTV, but at the time, mtv.com failed to say anything at all about the show, instead opting to tell me about every other crummy non-music-related show on MTV.

Google wasn't any more help. Nobody had heard of the show.

And my attempts at actually getting ahold of someone official at MTV who could confirm that Terry Anderson wasn't some psycho trying to stalk me were futile, as I was thwarted at every turn by people who I'm sure are used to fending off rabid Carson Daly fans.

Combined with the distinct impression I was getting in the time before the Seattle trip that this operation wasn't the most organized thing on planet Earth, the lack of information made me wonder what I was getting involved in.

Was I somehow being made the object of a prank for some other, unnamed reality show? Was John Ashcroft finally to exact his revenge on me for sending him all those unimportant e-mails?

I didn't know, but since I was reasonably sure that I was going to get a free hotel room out of the deal, I wasn't too concerned.

Still, it's surprising how jury-rigged the whole affair was.

I got a phone call while I was at the Portland train station waiting to leave for Seattle. It was Terry, wanting to know if I could bring any props. I told him I could try to buy a Snapple bottle at the snack bar in the station, but other than that, everything else was at my house.

When I got to Seattle, the film crew called me and asked what I had prepared. I told them Terry had told me they'd be interviewing me, so I didn't have anything prepared. It's not like I tour major cities, setting Twinkies on fire at school assemblies.

And then there was the filming location, which was in the film crew's hotel room in the same hotel Julia and I were staying at.

Crammed into one small room were five film crew members and their equipment, a bed, Julia, and me. And I got most of the room, so as to give the appearance of, say, not being filmed in a cramped hotel room.

Of course, there's only so much you can do to a hotel room, so they spread the contents of a box of Twinkies around the "set", and managed to place the box in the foreground using a lighting stand, an umbrella, and a few clamps.

Did I use the word "jury-rigged" yet?

At several points, we had to stop the interview because the maids were vacuuming outside the door, and the noise was too loud.

I told the film crew that I was going to tell all my friends how much of a sham Hollywood is, and they all nodded their heads. I guess you don't have many illusions when you work on this stuff all the time.

And so it went. They interviewed me for thirty minutes, but I'm reasonably sure I'll be on for about one-two-hundredth of that time.

I say that because I actually watched what I think was the first episode of MTV's Big Urban Myth on Tuesday night, and most of the so-called experts got between five and ten seconds of air time.

The rest of the time was spent talking about sex.

Anyhow, I'm reasonably convinced that my five seconds will be the dumbest five seconds of the whole interview, and I'll end up looking like an idiot for all the 18-34 year olds in the country.

Not that I know, of course, as the production company didn't send me a tape beforehand. I'll be watching it for the first time with all the other Avril fans out there.

But hey, I can't pretend I'm all that sad about it. Free hotel room, fleeting fame, and, I assume, all sorts of wonderful offers that will come pouring in once the show airs.

In the meantime, set up your VCRs to record MTV at 10:30pm on Tuesday, February 25, 2003.

The official Big Urban Myth page also says the episode will air Wednesday, February 26 at 2:30pm, Sunday, March 2 at 6:30pm, and Sunday, March 2 at midnight.

According to the site again, I'll be accompanied by "Bush busters, Superbowl flushers, microwave disasters, hooker hysteria, and Keith's bloody babble." Whee!

And with that, I think my fifteen minutes are now completely used up.

a critical rebuttal

Todd Stadler's recent troika of plays, "3 Short Pantomimes about Labor Struggle to be Performed Outside a Large Ground-Level Office Window Inside of Which a Meeting is Taking Place" is to drama what Three's Company was to television.

Which, for those of you who are culturally dull, is to say that it is trite, hackneyed, and dumb.

The main attempts at humor are mainly made in the titles, which are obscenely long and pedantic in a way that suggests that Mr. Stadler is simply being as poor a writer as he knows how to be, all the while hoping that he will, in fact, be perceived as a much better writer who is simply being Ironic.

Furthermore, while Mr. Stadler pays homage to the clich?d comedic Rule of Three, the third panel in his would-be-humorous triptych is rather lacking, and almost certainly composed in an attempt to salvage a sense of professionalism by having written that much more.

However, his thinly-veiled pop culture references and utterly confusing juxtaposition of the allegorical and the merely stupid result in such a quagmire as to leave the viewer questioning his raison d'?tre un playwright, as the French say.

In particular, I found his depiction of those in supervisory positions to be unfair and unreasonable, which is why I have asked that Mr. Stadler be summarily shot and all his gold pieces given to me.

Sincerely,
The Manager
A Critic

3 short pantomimes about labor struggle to be performed outside a large ground-level office window inside of which a meeting is taking place

1. In Which Management Does Not Take into Account the Welfare of the Workers

Worker A pantomimes some form of manual labor. Perhaps the symbolism would be most striking if he were to use a hammer or sickle.

Suddenly, Worker A strikes his thumb with the hammer or otherwise hurts himself with the means of production in due course of earning his menial wage.

He hops about, perhaps on one foot, mouthing a great scream, perhaps calling down curses upon the bourgeoisie.

The Manager appears from window left, carrying several large sacks of money (identifiable by the large dollar signs painted on their sides) and expresses great discontent with Worker A's laziness.

If possible, The Manager twirls the ends of his waxy moustache.

He exhorts Worker A to return to work immediately, whether injured or not, in order that The Manager may continue to exploit his being and make obscene amounts of money.

Worker A protests that his injury precludes him from working, and asks that he may be given the rest of the day off to recuperate and ponder the creation of a utopian economic state, in order to return tomorrow to work that much harder.

The Manager takes out a gun and shoots him. Owing to the lax labor laws in effect at the time of this pantomime, he is not arrested.

Fin.

2. In Which Management Quashes an Organized Protest in Order to Further its Exploitation of the Workers

Worker A (and, if possible, Workers B through K) gather together at window left, raising a pantomimed hue and cry about their poor working conditions.

The dramatic effect would be greatly increased if most of them carried signs mounted on wooden poles, although in keeping with the pantomimed nature of these plays, the signs themselves should be blank.

At various points during this protest, Worker A causes the marching and sign-waving to cease in order to pantomime several stirring speeches.

He complains about the corrupting nature of power, promotes the bond formed by people working side-by-side to the best of their ability, and advocates a need for the means of production to be owned communally.

If this cannot be effectively pantomimed, Worker A may also take off his shoe and pound it dramatically.

After each speech, the workers go back to their routine of marching about, waving signs, chanting slogans, and so forth.

This goes on for quite some time.

At some point, the town police, having been bribed, arrive with The Manager and summarily arrest the whole lot of the workers on trumped-up charges.

The Manager then giddily skips off screen in order to count his gold pieces.

Fin.

3. In Which an Allegory on the Nature of Symbiosis Lays Bare the Truth about Labor Relations

Workers A through E mill about aimlessly, attempting to make their way in life with their particular abilities and possessions, but feeling that such an existence is not ideal.

Suddenly, Worker E pantomimes having a great idea, and he gathers the other workers together into a huddle. The audience does not observe what is being discussed, although they are led to believe that it is something exciting and interesting.

As the huddle breaks up, Worker E's plan is made clear: the workers are to form a giant super-man by joining themselves together, with Workers A and B forming the feet and legs, Workers C and D forming the arms and body, and Worker E forming the head.

Working together as one, the workers find that they can more efficiently harvest and process food, manufacture goods, do battle with any foreign armies or creatures, and share among themselves the fruits of their labor.

After a while of these idyllic goings-on, The Manager enters from window right, wearing clothing that is vaguely leech-like.

He attaches himself to the super-man formed by the workers and dangles there, failing to help them in any way, and yet acting as a drain on their system.

Eventually, The Manager steals all the money the workers had earned, forcing them to break up and abandon their symbiotic ways. The Manager expresses glee in a leech-like way.

The workers feign a kind of allegorical death, but The Manager, unhappy with the amount of time the workers have spent away from their jobs while working on this allegory, has them illegally executed because he can.

Fin.

[untitled #471]

I love the Brits. They can never have enough surveillance cameras.

Whether they're keeping track of drivers who need to pay the new congestion fee or watching over those who opted to take the bus rather than drive, one gets the feeling that now is the time for Rockwell to make his comeback in the UK.

[untitled #470]

You know, the first thing that I think when I see the business name Axscents for Home is "ack!" My brain freaks out, unaccustomed as it is to seeing the sequence "xsc".

After a bit, my brain calms down, deciding that, for whatever reason, this must be an attempt to indicate the juxtaposition of the "k" and "s" sounds, although in a very uncool, or at least counterintuitive, way.

But then my brain immediately freaks out again, as it has decided that this is a compound word composed of the smaller words "ax" and "scents".

As one who has seen enough slasher flicks, I know that "ax" equals "blood", which makes this name unsettlingly redolent of human carnage, and not "products to help you relax, or ... impress your guests."

fleischer v. thomas

In lieu of today's regularly scheduled bleating, I instead present you with slightly warmed-over fun from a now three-week-old White House press conference.

Q: You said earlier today that the President doesn't care whether the American people support any decision to go to war or not.

MR. FLEISCHER: I didn't say that.

Q: Basically you said it.

MR. FLEISCHER: No, it's a ...

Q: Okay, what did you say?

MR. FLEISCHER: It's a wily paraphrase, Helen, wily.

Q: I think I compressed it well. (Laughter)

MR. FLEISCHER: I know you do. That's why you asked it the way you did. (Laughter)

The President believes the following: that his job as Commander-in-Chief is to, first and foremost, protect the country from any threats that he perceives the American people may suffer. In carrying out that duty, the President, of course, at all times wants to have the support of the American people. But if the American people are fundamentally opposed to, or totally in favor of, a military action anywhere in the world, the President will make his judgment about when to use force to protect the country on the basis of what he believes is best to protect the country, not on the basis of any poll for or against.

Q: So basically you're saying the impact of the public's opinion has no meaning, meaning, actually, the anti-war demonstrations have no impact on the White House.

MR. FLEISCHER: No, Helen, what I'm saying is quite the contrary. The President, of course, seeks public support, and if the President makes a determination to use public ... use support, the President will go to the public. And I think you'll see he'll ... there will be even more support. At this very moment, the strong majority of the American people, as indicated by public polls, as on a very consistent and long-term basis, with little to no change since last August, have said that they support the use of force to disarm Saddam Hussein.

Q: ... that he does expect that the public would support him if he goes ... I mean, they would rally the patriotism and so forth. Isn't this what the drumbeat is now, where major speeches every day in support of war?

MR. FLEISCHER: Well, I think there's no question that the administration is and will continue to take its case and make its case to the American people. We are a democracy, after all.

Q: If he makes the case, why don't you produce the weapons?

MR. FLEISCHER: That's up to Saddam Hussein to produce the weapons. They're not in the possession of the United States.

Q: No, if it was up to us ... we keep charging it; if we know something why don't we prove it?

MR. FLEISCHER: Well, let events take their course, Helen, and listen to Mr. Wolfowitz's speech today.

Q: Are you going to pull a rabbit out of the hat?

MR. FLEISCHER: Terry.

Ah, I love reading the questioning of Helen Thomas

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The past few weeks have not been kind to me.

In addition to fending off one (or possibly two) colds and indelicately edging ever closer to ages starting with a three, my computer at home has decided to antagonize me outright.

At first, it was just little things. My computer would take minutes to shut down instead of the normal seconds.

Certain applications, most notably Internet Explorer, would cause the operating system to crash within minutes (odd, that, given that IE is a part of the operating system, ha ha ha).

But what really pushed me over the edge was when the system decided to randomly change the fonts pretty much everywhere.

I suppose I could have tolerated viewing all my spreadsheets in italics. But I'll be danged if I have to read the freakin' New York Times in some bizarre uncial font.

That's when I decided it was time to reinstall Windows 98.

Unfortunately, things have not gone so smoothly in that endeavor.

For one thing, I have had to deal with the curse of owning a computer (it was a gift from a former employer) that had Windows 98 preinstalled on it. Which means I don't actually own a Windows 98 installation disk. Whee!

And then there are those components that I somehow got to work the first time, but I don't know what I did to make them work, and now they won't work when I try to reinstall them.

Loads and loads of fun, both for me to experience, and for you to read about.

Accordingly, I haven't put as much time into writing on this here Web page. Sorry about that.

[untitled #469]

From French Foreign Minister Dominique de Villepin's reaction to Colin Powell's presentation at the UN:

"Given the choice between military intervention and an inspections regime that is inadequate because of a failure to co-operate on Iraq's part, we must choose the decisive reinforcement of the means of inspections," de Villepin said.

Um, dude, that wasn't one of the two options you listed.