Saturday, November 18, 2006

Pipeline Has A New Home After almost four years on Salon Blogs, and more importantly, Radio UserLand software, Pipeline has moved to a new location.  This site has served Pipeline well in that time, but I know a dramatic software upgrade when I see one, and the new Mac we bought yesterday has provided that.  I have never owned a Mac before, but even after just one day I'm pretty much 100% convinced I'll never go back to PCs.  You can now find Pipeline at our new address: http://web.mac.com/dhennessee/iWeb/Pipeline/Blog/Blog.html Things over at the new site are very much in their infancy, so you will see changing looks until I get what I'm looking for, whatever that might turn out to be.  Included in that will probably be a bunch of monkeying around with all the crazy things the Mac software can do.  I'll probably go overboard on some of that stuff, but please bear with me in the weeks to come, because I am convinced Pipeline is about to take a leap forward.  Of course, I've been wrong before. 4:53:20 PM    Say what?[]

	Monday, November 13, 2006

Pipeline Upgrade Exciting changes are coming to Pipeline, as the IT department is getting a complete and badly needed overhaul.  Out, dialup!  In, cable modem.  Out, 1998 Gateway!  In, mysterious computer yet to be determined.  Out, being confined to a cave-like writing space!  In, wireless network and laptop.  Eventually. These changes will roll out over the next two weeks or so, and once in place Pipeline readers will see an increase in the number of posts (because the publishing connection will always be on, and I can post from anywhere in the house), as well as an increase in the use of links, graphics and photos.  A corresponding improvement in the quality of writing is possible, but not likely. 10:14:33 PM    Say what?[]

I Wanna Hold Your Hand In June I put an entry in my notebook to write about the way Linus always reaches out to hold my hand whenever we are walking.  Holding hands with your kids starts out as a matter of safety and parental supervision, as it still is with Lily today.  After all, kids can't run in front of cars if they are holding your hand, unless you are also running in front of a car.  But there came a point where Linus didn't need to hold our hands to be safe any more, and instead he was reaching for our hands out of some combination of habit and a need for closeness.  That probably was happening for a long time before I noticed it, as parents usually don't see things until after they happen for awhile.  It surprised me when I first noticed how instinctively he reached for my hand even after he didn't need or was told to, but I can't say I minded.  June came and went, my notebook kept filling up, and the story about Linus holding my hand never quite saw the light of day.  Then tonight Linus reached for my hand as we were walking into his swimming lessons.  He surprised me, literally grabbing my hand.  What had once been routine was now surprising.  It had been months since he reached for mine, and I was no longer in the habit of extending mine for him to grab.  The endearing symbol of childhood innocence that so touched me in June was nearly forgotten by November.  The lesson?  Stories about your kids growing up have a short shelf-life. We walked a few feet hand-in-hand, and then he raced ahead of me to try to get in the door along with some other kids in his class.  After a few feet he stopped and turned back to me to ask if it was OK if he ran ahead, and I said it was.  Yes, of course.  Run.  A boy needs to run. The cord is not completely cut yet, but every month it gets more and more frayed, as it must.  It won't be long before the life he's living is very much his own, so I savor these days when I can still see him running ahead of me on the same path, turning back to seek my approval and make sure I'm keeping up.  And sometimes still, reaching out to hold my hand along the way. 10:04:11 PM    Say what?[]

	Thursday, November 09, 2006

Frogs Our friends Kevin and Rae Anne came up from Kansas a couple weeks ago with their boys Jackson and Lincoln.  As we sat around the table Friday night, someone began idly playing with a little pink plastic novelty toy frog Linus received at a haunted house the night before.  Press a little tab down on the frog's back, let it go, and watch the frog spring through the air.  It wasn't long before a drinking game broke out.  Think of it as Quarters, but with a frog instead.  I like to call it "Frogs", and it was a blast.  It's been too long since I was in a drinking game involving a frog.  And unlike most, or perhaps all of the drinking games of my youth, I got laid after this one! Kevin's Majestic Launch 11:00:49 PM    Say what?[]

Bail Out Well, the election is over and I feel great.  My optimism gets stronger, rather than be crushed into cynicism by suspicious defeat.  It's nice to know that incompetence, corruption and arrogance is something this country can only stand for so long.  I hope the Democrats make them look even worse by comparison with strong governance the next two years. I feel good that my instincts were right on Rove's genius and October surprises.  There was no way a master architect such as Rove was supposed to be would ever let them get in the position they were in by June, much less October.  Now they've pissed off evangelicals, pissed off Hispanics (75% went Dem in this election, reversing a heavy trend the other way), pissed off much of their military family support.  And pissed off me.  Rove totally lost me.  The GOP as we knew it is gone.  It was plain as day in Bush's press conference.  The charade is over, and now, worst of all, there is oversight.  Retroactive oversight, if necessary.  My guess is Bush follows the same path he has his entire life.  He takes something over, derives great personal gain from it, wrecks it, then gets bailed out by a group organized by or affiliated in some way with his dad.  His dad's guys are everywhere now: Baker, Robert Gates, that other guy.  Pretty soon we'll start seeing Brent Scowcroft's name again, which is a good thing.  Maybe Colin Powell will be the VP.  The realists of the 41 Presidency are asking to get their hands back on the reigns of power, and it's right on cue.  And now that things have gone in the tank, what a surprise: Daddy's guys are running the war. Bush 43 wants us to believe he's a man of conviction, a fighter who will roll up his sleeves and clean up this mess, but it's a ruse.  He's more than willing to cede power to whoever will take it.  It's the story of his adult life, over and over again.  The Bush 41 cronies will take everything over on everything related to foreign policy and they will work with the Democrats, who will take the rest.  Bush will be left with non-starter former pet projects like privatization of Social Security, and...the Mission to Mars?  That's why Bush talked so much about the "responsibility" that comes with winning elections in his press conference the other day.  He's not downplaying the Dems and overstating the role and power of the White House like he was a week ago; he's doing the opposite.  He's lowering expectations for his group, and putting it all on the Dem shoulders.  Yes, it is a lot of responsibility to clean up a mess this large, but George W. Bush has never had to clean up after himself before, and he's sure not going to start now.  It's bail-out time, right on cue. 10:44:36 PM    Say what?[]

Pick One Thing Linus was Darth Vader for Halloween, and somehow he ended up with two lightsabers out of the deal.  Two red lightsabers, which is a big deal. Having two lightsabers means two things.  First, I'm obligated to have lightsaber fights with Linus.  I have instructed him that the two key strategies in swordfigting are to 1) Be the aggressor, and 2) Don't get stabbed.  If he can master those two strategies, he should be fine.  Second, Linus will ask about a dozen times if I tape the two lightsabers together so he can have the Darth Maul version. Being an adult sometimes makes it hard to see the lightsabers as anything other than another piece of colored plastic crap littering our floors.  But every once in awhile I'll remember how much fun it was to think about having a lightsaber when I was growing up.  Linus is very much at that age now.  Of course, a lightsaber is pretty much just a killing machine, so it makes it hard to say that's the one fake invention you'd love to have if you could.  I suppose you could use lightsabers for harvesting crops.  Probably some industrial uses as well.  Amputations.  But still, the lightsaber is limited, compared to a holodeck. Yes, the holodeck.  I tried to explain the holodeck to Linus, but I think he needs to see it in action, which is why Star Trek Next Generation is on the Netflix queue.  Holodeck trumps lightsaber because you can have a lightsaber in the holodeck.  You can have anything in the holodeck, but the limitation is that the holodeck is stationary.  If you really need to get around in actual space, you need a transporter. Yes, a transporter.  With a transporter you don't have to go to Tahiti in your holodeck.  You can actually go to Tahiti.  Linus doesn't know about the transporter yet.  When he has seen the transporter, holodeck and lightsaber in action I will ask him what he would prefer if he could only pick one thing. I give it a 100% chance he will choose the lightsaber. 9:48:16 PM    Say what?[]

	Tuesday, November 07, 2006

Political Ad Voice Talent I heard a great piece on NPR yesterday with two guys who do a ton of attack ad voice-overs.  Their normal voices were similar to their TV voices, but they both used subtle changes in pacing and breathing that transformed them from normal deep-voiced guys into all-knowing voices of serious condemnation.  Using those voices, they then read various nursery rhymes and turned them into attack ads.  Funny stuff. There's a woman who does a lot of the GOP ads here in Minnesota, and I'm sure lots of other places, too.  It's hard to describe what she does, but it's this weird sort of hiss or lisp or cutting off of the last part of a word.  It so perfectly captures the prudish, pious disgust that motives certain parts of the conservative frame of mind.  I'd love to know if that's really how that woman talks or if she actually uses that voice intentionally.  She's either a master of her trade or an actual pious, prudish woman full of disgust. Both the guys on NPR said they really had to check their own politics at the door.  I suppose that's true in a lot of jobs, and we all do check our politics at the door in a variety of situations, such as a Libertarian swingers party.  I have to think if you were a hard-core partisan it would be hard to not have second thoughts about literally being the voice of your opposition.  I'm not sure I could do it, although it's entirely possible that getting paid like premium voice talent could influence my thinking on the subject. 5:34:42 PM    Say what?[]

Living In the Moment at the Candy Bowl Me: "What's your favorite candy bar?" Lily: "The one in my mouth." 5:00:28 PM    Say what?[]

	Wednesday, November 01, 2006

The Kerry Thing.  AAAAAAAAGGHHH! Preaching to the choir, I know.  It's all so stupid, all of it.  The coverage of a non-event, the fact that Kerry couldn't quickly and adequately articulate what he meant to say and put the whole thing to bed, all of it.  So fucking stupid. But I just have to say this to get it off my chest: John Kerry was a fucking war hero, OK?  And the people that trashed his service, who didn't serve themselves, have the gall to say that he "disrespects the troops"?   Whatever.  I'm not concerned.  The GOP's going down.  They'll go down partway on Tuesday, and you better believe another two years adrift with these jackasses in the White House will have this country in such sad shape that 2008 promises to be an historic ass-kicking.  Face it, people: There is no Rove miracle coming.  You think they'd be pushing this lame Kerry thing so hard if there was?  They got nothing, and it's all bluff.  Tuesday that party gets what they deserve for having only politics and no policy for the last six years. 10:22:56 PM    Say what?[]

Tip Off! The NBA season started last night with two games, and tonight the rest of the league, including the Wolves, kicked off.  Minnesota used depth and an odd PG rotation featuring Troy Hudson over Mike James to beat Sacramento tonight.  Kevin Garnett is 12-0 in home openers for his Wolves career.  It was a good win, especially for a team needing to distance itself as much as possible from last year's 33-49 debacle.  On paper there doesn't appear to be much to get excited about with this Wolves team, but I am excited nonetheless.  First, I get to spend another season watching KG play.  Second, there is legitimate young talent on the roster in Randy Foye.  Third, the team really has nowhere to go but up after last season.  The coach has another year of experience, they have upgraded at the PG position, and they finally appear to have a legit banger in Craig Smith, their second-round pick from Boston College.  But even if none of that existed I'm first and foremost a Wolves fan, true blue, and every season starts fresh with dreams of an extended playoff run.  They are 1-0 as of right now, but they have a tough road stretch coming up with 4 games in five nights.  We'll see how it goes, but the added depth should serve them well. Of course, the arrival of the NBA also signals the start of my fantasy basketball league.  I'm not sure how many years we've been at it now, but I think we are approaching 10.  I'm fortunate to have belonged to a baseball and basketball league that have tremendous longevity, commeraderie, and competition.  Fantasy sports is either one of those things you understand or you don't, but suffice it to say the actual discourse about the leagues is only a small part of the attraction. One of the highlights of the beginning of the season are the team names people choose.  The basketball league tends to gravitate to topical political humor, and teams may go through four or five names in a season.  Most websites allow inclusion of pictures as team logos, so you might have a team named "The Liberators" which features a picture of Dick Cheney holding a giant rifle.  Other past favorites include the "Hirsute Skin Flutes" and "Unintelligent Design".  Last year I went with the "Caballers", inspired by the shocking news reports that Dick Cheney, Rummy, and Satan were essentially running a military cabal in the White House.  I thought that was a clever name, but despite that my team still suffered a playoff upset for the second year in a row.  This year I was going to go with the "Macacas", but felt that was too obvious.  Instead, I reached back to my favorite part of the Mel Gibson meltdown and came up with the "Sugar Tits Express".  I love my logo, but the name still doesn't feel quite right.  I guess I'm still searching, but I'm confident the world will provide me something useful to work with in the days to come.  (On the baseball side, names are much more static.  And, since the team names traditionally are supposed to be a play on your name, I'm certain nothing can ever top the Hennessee Valley Authority.) As for the actual roster, my team is bringing back Jamal Crawford, Devin Harris and Nate (Dogg) Robinson all at very reasonable prices.  It doesn't exactly scream "dynasty", but as the bottom of the roster goes I feel very good about them.  When combined with my robust home-grown analytical tools, preturnatural feel for the NBA and familiarity with our draft process, my head is swelling to hydrocephalic proportions. 10:13:35 PM    Say what?[]

	Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Halloween 38 Tonight was my 38th Halloween.  Although I was not personally responsible for any of the candy haul tonight, I took pride in seeing our largest bowl overflowing with all manner of confectionary goodness.  It made me think back to my biggest candy Halloweens as a child and realize I never filled up a bowl like our kids did tonight.  Of course, Lily and Linus can now work people over in tandem, and I was a solitary gatherer back in the day.  It's interesting, looking at the candy now vs. then.  There are few similarities between the motherlodes of my youth and tonight's bounty, mostly the lousy Hershey's milk chocolate bar and the venerable Reese's Peanut Butter Cup.  Glory be to Jesus or whoever that the Peanut Butter Cup has survived to become the predominant candy on the streets today.  As you all know, when it comes to candy goodness, there is none higher.  Other candy bars will call it "Sire". Of course, you still get a fair amount of "treats" that are plain evidence some people simply don't know jack shit about candy.  Starlight mints for Halloween?  Why not just take a dump in their bags instead?  I guarantee that mint will be fighting it out with the Bit-O-Honey for the last candy in the bowl sometime around Thanksgiving. Linus spent a fair amount of time tonight proactively reaching into offered bowls to get the candy he most wanted.  Some people were taken aback by that, but nobody said anything.  At first I thought about reprimanding him for it, but I figure what's the point of being 7 and dressing up like Darth Vader if you can't take small matters into your own hands every once in awhile?  He's a respectful kid most of the rest of his life, so we let that go.  Also, he's been trained to ferret out the Peanut Butter Cups, so in a way he's providing for the whole family. On Halloweens, I miss being a kid.  Just the anticipation of the night, the school parade, all of it.  It can't just be about the candy.  It just can't.  But I also remember the feeling I would get at the end of each Halloween, walking back down my block towards my house.  I would think, "Is that all?"  It's over quick, and the houses are never as decorated or quite as spooky as you wanted them to be.  All the hype and mystery of the holliday seemed to come and go without the payoff to justify the buildup.  Sure, I had the candy to show for it.  But then I woke up and it was November.  Fucking November. And then Halloween of my sixth grade year came, 1980.  Still in an emotional abyss after George Brett's near .400 season couldn't carry the Royals to a World Series title days earlier, my friends and I were told by the very first house we went to that we were too old to be trick-or-treating.  It was like a punch in the gut, but I already knew it was true.  Halloween was gone for me.  And I don't want to be overly dramatic about it, but I remember feeling right then that I wasn't a little kid anymore, and I wasn't particularly happy about it.  I honestly had never considered a life after cruising the streets for Halloween candy.  I looked around and saw that everybody else was smaller than I was.  It totally bummed me out.  Later that night, we gave those people's jack-o-lanterns some rough treatment, a prelude to an adolescence prone to vandalism, something I'll write about another day.  As Jane and I walked with Linus and Lily tonight, I sometimes thought about what's coming down the line for both of them, that awkward moment when they realize it has all passed them by, even though they aren't ready for it to be over.  And when that's over for them, in a way Halloween will be over for Jane and me all over again.  We'll be inside our house waiting for that knock on the door instead of pounding the pavement and seeing which houses look the best, and who has the best treats. But not tonight.  Tonight was declarations of resolve to find the next haunted house and more candy, despite cold hands and heavy candy bags.  Tonight was Halloween, and it was good. 10:35:43 PM    Say what?[]

	Wednesday, October 25, 2006

The Floor Problem We have an eternally dirty floor.  The main issue is the dog hair.  It is relentless.  I concede that we could do more to keep Maxine from shedding and to sweep the floors more regularly, but it doesn't matter.  They are always a mess, and after 8 years of dog ownership and seven years of a having children in the house, I think it's time to admit that things probably aren't going to change until the dog and the kids are gone.  And Buster too.  Goddammit, Buster!  Messy floors demand a solution.  Current methods and strategies haven't yielded results.  We can't "stay the course".  I think it's time to "cut and run" to a robotic vacuum cleaner.  I'm sure you, like me, laugh whenever you see those things in SkyMall magazine.  As if a robot could really vacuum your whole floor!  But then today I used a sophisiticated mental imaging technique called "imagination", and imagined I had a robot that would motor around every day and clean up the dog hair before it all congregates and forms giant Night of the Lupus-sized dustbunnies.  That thought exercise showed me that a robot vacuum doesn't have to clean your entire floor to be worthwhile.  For the first time in my life, I thought about owning a robot. Not only would it reduce the times I have to vacuum, it would also force me to keep the floors picked up every day, so it can do its thing.  No more books or shoes or CD's or rugs laying all over the floor.  Pick all that shit up!  The robot can't do its thing until the floor is clear, so from now on it will just have to be SOP to have everything picked up for the robot.  I don't see any reason whatsoever why that can't happen.  And if some small toys do happen to get eaten up, we can always blame the robot.  The robot needs a name.  We'll give it some time to settle in and see what strikes us as appropriate.  Some of my early hopefuls are Mr. Sucky, Dirtbag, Terminator, CarpetmuncherY2K, Terminator X, and Buster. I have no idea what these things cost, nor whether they really work.  I understand these are knowable things, and of course I would know them, all of them, before I ever invited a robot into my home.  I'm sure a robot vacuum would cost thousands of dollars, and you know those bags don't come cheap, either.  That's where they get you, the bags.  But everything has a price, and what price clean floors?  I think it's about time a robot started helping out around the house.  We just have to invite one in for a few weeks and let it win us over. 11:37:04 PM    Say what?[]

DC Wedding Pipeline has been silenced the last three weeks due to travel, first to Connecticut and DC for business, then back to DC for our friend Tom's wedding this weekend.  It was a grand time, with lots of opportunities for both Jane and I to see old and new friends together, at what happened to be one hell of swank wedding.  Plus, DC's a good town to be in if you've decided you're going to have a fun weekend and not worry too much about the budget.  Well, it's bad for your budget, but you will eat, drink and travel around the city conveniently while you are there.  And it's a great walking town, above all else.  Friday night I got very sick due to me drinking too much, then the groom buying me Jagermeister shots I still don't recall on top of that.  My phone records indicate I called Friend of Pipeline Brad at about 2:00 AM, and then again at 2:05 AM, but I have no memory of the calls.  I can't imagine he was happy about the first call, and probably less enthusiastic about the second.  Cell phones have really taken the risk of drunk dialing to the next level.  I realize I'm about 10 years behind that observation, but that it seemed especially true when I looked at my call log yesterday. The next day, I realized I needed to fill my stomach back up.  Or, as I like to say, "build a foundation".  I wasn't able to do that until about 3:00 PM the next day, when I made the decision to order a cheeseburger via room service.  I chose that because as a meateater, I believe a beef foundation is really what kickstarts the stomach best.  (At least, I believed that as of last weekend.)  With my beef foundation laid, I could venture out evening and assault the loaded open bar at the wedding.  Unfortunately, I was out of sorts all the way till dinner, so for me it was basically an open orange juice, Coke, and water bar.  But that's fine, because I often wish for one of those. The meal was the best fucking steak I've ever had, or at least in the top two.  And cooked perfectly, almost cold and pink in the middle, and no need for a steak knife.  I savored all of mine and lucked out when Jane bequeathed some of hers to me.  I had so much steak, I barely ate any of the other items.  Unfortunately, adding 12 ounces of beef to a 1/2 pound cheeseburger turned my beef foundation into a beef fortress.  (At the end of the night I ordered another 1/2 cheeseburger at a bar, without even realizing I had done it.  Ultimately I ate it, too.) Betraying my expectations, I never did feel good enough to start drinking again, and I began to feel hostility towards the open bar.and other revelers.  Because you see, it wasn't my fault I got so sick the night before.  Tom shouldn't have given me those Jager shots.  Not my fault.  But then I met up with Pat, a friend at the wedding who flew in from Alaska.  He and I talked and after that, I felt better and really had a great time at the wedding. We stayed at the Mayflower Hotel, which is a supercool place with some history to it.  I read all of the plaques outside the ballrooms and meeting rooms while well on my way to drunkeness Friday night.  In one room with a domed ceiling, Winston Churchill once made an embarassing gaffe when he told an off-colour joke to a woman beside him.  The acoustics of the room made his faux-pas clearly audible to everyone in the room, which came to an embarrassing hush upon hearing Churchill's amplified voice.  Well, you can't read a story like that without looking into the room.  And upon seeing the room well-lit and void of people, and then seeing that curious domed roof, you would of course be tempted to walk down into the room and see for yourself how an off-colour joke might sound when told in such an historic place, as I was. I walked in and pulled over a chair left over from whatever conference or meeting had been in there that day.  I sat down under the dome and said, as though whispering in Churchill-ease into the ear of the prim Washington Society lady sitting beside me: "Pardon me, madame, but do you know what people in West Virginia do for Halloween?"  And I have to say, it didn't seem all that much louder to me.  In fact, I could barely tell a difference at all.  Churchill must have been talking extremely loud if the whole room really heard what he said.  But, he was probably drunk, and he was like seven feet tall, so it's possible. Another plaque indicates there used to be a restaurant off the lobby called the Carvery, and that J. Edgar Hoover ate lunch there nearly every working day of his 34 year reign as FBI Chief, and not only that, he also ordered the same thing for lunch every one of those days, too.  No mention of what that was, though.  Seems like if you're going to tell the story, you might as well take it all the way.  With a name like the Carvery, I'm guessing J. Edgar also liked to have a beef foundation.  The Mayflower was top-notch in every respect, offering a great bar and restaurant, unique rooms, some history and elegance, and a tasty $33 room service cheeseburger.  Good hotel, good food, good drink, good friends, good wedding and good town.  Great weekend. 10:33:49 PM    Say what?[]

© Copyright 2006 DH. Last update: 11/18/06; 4:53:36 PM.