"You're Going Where?

Yes, that's right. I'm going to Mt. St. Helens. Why does everyone keep thinking I've lost my mind? How many opportunities do you get in life to actually witness a mountain explode in a great volcanic eruption? I figure this chance may not come around again in my lifetime, so I'm leaving tomorrow for the great northwest to see if I can catch a glimpse of one of the great cataclysms of nature. I don't know what to expect but it would be really cool to see the thing erupt and have James Mason and Pat Boone come shooting out (and that extremely obscure movie reference is strictly for any film buffs out there).

I'm driving, so if the mountain can just hold on a couple of more days, I should be there in time. That is if I can ever get all this gear packed, which, believe me, is no easy task. Used to be when I went on a trip I'd pack some clothes, a camera, and a book of crossword puzzles and I'd be all set. But now it seems when I travel I need to be connected so I bring my computer. I also need my ebooks so I bring my pda. I also get tired of listening to the same old radio stations so I bring my cd's (believe it or not there used to be a time when all the radio stations around the country didn't sound alike). I might want to watch a movie so I have to copy a few DVD's to my hard drive. I also like to workout when I'm on the road so I usually bring my MP3 player with me, although this time I'm going to leave it at home. Of course I need my digital camera so I have to pack that along too. And finally, I need all the various cables and chargers and assorted doohickeys to make it all work. Geez, how did travel ever get so complicated?

Well, that's neither here nor there. It's the digital age and some of us can't survive the day without all of our equipment.

A Big Hand for the Little Lady

Speaking of CD's I picked up the new Hilary Hahn CD for my trip. Yeah, I know there are some people out there who aren't impressed, who don't think she's fiery enough for their tastes, and no doubt there are some very talented violinists recording these days who are much more popular, but I'll gladly trade some of the flamboyance and dramatics of the current stars for the confidence and straightforwardness of her approach. I guess it's her honesty that I like so much, or, for lack of a better term, a certain anti-overthetopedness that seems to come directly from her own truth about the music she performs, without the artifice or dramatics of some I've heard. Whatever you call it the recordings are compelling, especially the 2 Bach CD's she done, and all of her music has a place in my library.

The new CD is the Elgar Violin Concerto and Vaughn Williams' The Lark Ascending. I haven't heard the Elgar Concerto very much so I don't have a real opinion about it yet, but the Lark has been recorded many times by many different violinsts and is one of the most popular and beautiful pieces ever written for the instrument. Hahn's interpretation is, as you would expect, somewhat understated (which is as it should be) and posseses all the calm and beauty for which The Lark is known. I don't know if this is my favorite recording yet, but over time it could be.

And if you ever get a chance go to Hilaryhahn.com to read her journal. In addition to being a very talented musician she also happens to be a very good writer, and her postings make this poor blog seem pretty amateurish indeed.

Testing, 1, 2, 3, 4...

No real post tonight. I just want to see if the picture I added to my profile shows up like it's supposed to. If you're seeing my picture somewhere on this page then that means everything's working like it should. If not, then it looks like I've got some more work to do.

And if you are seeing my picture then I apologize for the poor quality. I'm afraid that other than my drivers license photo and my passport photo it's the only picture I have of myself. Still, though it doesn't even begin to capture the magnificence of my chiseled features, it must be obvious why women are constantly throwing themselves at me.

Actually, I've been checking out a lot of blogs lately and feeling a little ashamed at the plainness of my own little effort. The least I can do, I'm thinking, is add a picture to give it some kind of graphical presence.

And in one last little bit of housekeeping let me also add that I was going over some old posts of mine and noticed that a couple of comments were posted some months back that I never responded to. For this I must apologize.

The truth is that I don't read my blog. Once I write something there's no looking back - I just push the handle and flush it away, and the reason is simple. I don't pretend that this is a real blog with anything real to say, and I'm more than a little suprised that anyone would take the time to read it. But appararently a few people have and for that I am grateful and do appreciate the comments I've received. In the future I promise I'll check for such things and try not to act like such a heel.

As I Lay Dying

I am stricken. I noticed it last night, there on my right ankle, a little bump and an itching sensation that I knew could only mean one thing - a bug bite. A fatal, insidious, West Nile virus infecting bite that surely will mean the end of my days. And it just seems so unfair. Why now? Why, when I had so much yet to do, so much yet to accomplish. Oh, to be stricken down so young, this cruel poison coursing through my veins, so many questions still unanswered.

I should have known it was coming. Just today I heard an ad on the radio for the local grocery store chain which I knew was some kind of signal that the end was near. "Come in" the ad entreated, "and try our authentic restaurant-style soup." Immediately I was confused. Wasn't it just yesterday that they were trying to sell us their homestyle soup? Why, all of a sudden, did everything change? Is "restaurant -style" better than "homestyle"? How am I to know which to choose? How am I to know what is the right "style" of soup for me?

Oh, the futility of it all. Here I am at the end of my days, the West Nile already robbing me of my vitality and vigor, and I realize that I don't even know what style of soup I am- the old fashioned home cooked goodness of homestyle, or the chic and elegant sophistication of restaurant-style. I know I should have figured this out before, but you see I always thought there would be plenty of time. But now the time is running out.

Oh, woe to him who lives the procrastinated life. So many things left unresolved. I always wondered what the final days would be like and what thoughts would consume me at my final sunset. Would I think of the things I'd done and the women I'd had, or would I think of the things I'd never done and the women I'd never had? Does the old man lying on his deathbed think about the woman he married and shared his life with, or does he think about women who spurned him or perhaps only glanced from afar (like that girl he saw 50 years ago in the school library who never knew he existed and whom he later found out married a uroligist from San Diego).

These would be the things that I'd think of as I lay dying, or so I thought, but instead I find I'm just as confused about life as I ever was. Homestyle or restaurant-style, I don't know, I just don't know.

And just to to make things worse, I come home tonight (pale and sickly, of course) and there is a letter waiting for me in my mailbox. "Dear preferred customer", it starts out, "you have been specially chosen to receive this unique offer..." , and I immediately I put the letter down. With everything else that was happening it more than I could bear. Imagine me, a preferred customer, and specially chosen to boot. To receive such praise from a stranger, and me being such a cad, such an imposter, and so unworthy of such kindness and trust... well, the guilt was too much. I wanted to write these people and tell them "No, it's not right, I cannot deceive you this way", but the virus left has me weak and unable to respond.

So here I sit typing at my computer, my final hour approaching, feeling adrift and burdened by all my past transgressions. I've tried to live a good life, you see, but until that final judgement is passed how can you really know? And how can you know if there'll even be a judgement? How can you know that there won't just be darkeness? And worst of all, what if there is a heaven and your turn comes to answer to the almighty and they can't find your file? What if they can't find your file because you've never really given a good accounting of yourself? What if you find yourself standing in front of St. Peter and he demands "Well, what is it? Homestyle or restaurant-style?" with the difference between salvation and the infernal reaches resting on the answer.

It's too much...too much.

Keeping Up with the Joneses

I guess I do a lot of braggin' in this blog, but that's ok. Blogs just seem to bring out the braggart in people, and better that I do my braggin' here than in public. What would you rather have - a blog talking a bunch of bull or some windbag sitting next to you on an airplane talking your ear off. Yeah, you know what I mean.

Anyways, I want to talk about the lady up the street with the perfect yard. I don't know if I've ever mentioned her before and I'm embarrassed to say I've never really met her, but even if you don't know her I'm sure you know who she is. She's the fifty-ish one who's always doddering about her yard with her gardening gloves and floppy hat, snipping and digging at all hours of the day, and keeping everything so perfectly neat and trim that the place looks damn near antiseptic.

And if it sounds as if I hate her, I really don't. Fact is, I kind of admire her in a way. She puts her heart and soul into that yard of hers and all things being equal it's probably the best looking yard in the neighborhood (except for the yard next door to mine, but that doesn't count. See, the people next door had their yard professionally landscaped and they have a gardener who comes out once a week and keeps it up for them. To me that's the nothing more than a "store-bought" yard and not the same as a yard that someone has put their sweat and blood into. There's a fundamental difference between a yard that's the fruit of your own labor and a yard that you bought at Sears, and if you don't understand that then it's time to fire your gardener and get a little dirt on your hands.)

But I digress.

Where was I? Oh yeah, I was talking about my roses. I know I've talked about my roses before and how, despite my best efforts, my rose bushes are the sorriest looking ones on the block. Or should I say, used to be the sorriest ones on the block, but that's all changed now. Let me try to explain.

For the longest time I couldn't figure out why my rose bushes always looked so scraggly and barren until one morning I was walking across my yard and noticed a pile of deer scat (or poop, as it's more commonly known) on the lawn. Aha, I thought, could this be the solution to the mystery of the roses? I set out to investigate and sure enough, about a week later I walked out in the front yard one night and saw two deer, a doe and a fawn, sniffing around my rose bushes.

So off I went to the local hardware store to look for a deer repellant and I found this wonderful stuff called Liquid Fence. And when I say wonderful I'm talking about the results, not the smell. To tell the truth this stuff smells awful - kind of like a dead body or an outhouse that's gone to seed, but it works great. The deer get one sniff of Liquid Fence and they pretty much lose their apetite for roses.

And now the results, I'm happy to say, after much watering and feeding and spraying and pruning are (here comes the braggin' part) the best looking rose bushes you ever did lay your eyes on. Ever! I'm talking whites and pinks and deep ruby reds on bushes so healthy and full of blooms that it almost make a fella' wish he was dead just so he could be buried under 'em. I tell you it's a wonder to me why Sunset Magazine hasn't given me a call to ask me how I did it.

Which brings me to the lady up the street. Tonight I was out doing some late evening pruning when she drove past the house and glanced at my yard the way she sometimes does in that sort of neighborly but slightly condescending manner of hers. I was expecting the usual friendly wave before she turned away and drove on down the street, but instead I saw something different when she turned and looked at my roses tonight. I can't exactly describe it as shock, and it certainly wasn't awe, but it was something and I couldn't quite figure it. Then it struck me and a big grin just broke out inside because I finally realized...

She was jell-ous.

Yeah, I know you think I'm just braggin', but I'm telling you that for at least one brief moment the perfect yard lady was jealous of my roses. And I mean isn't that what it's all about, really. All the laboring and the fussing over our yards. Isn't it there somewhere in the back of your mind when your sitting there sweating in the hot summer sun, that if you just keep at it and keep on going that someday you'll be the envy of your neighbors. C'mon, you mean to tell me that's never crossed your mind. That little thought that says "Neener, neener, neener...my yards better than your yard." It isn't? Well then maybe next time don't buy your yard at Sears.

But just to show you that I'm really not the braggart you think I am, that I am, in fact, really quite humble at heart, let me add as a final thought that as proud as I am of my roses, the perfect yard lady still has the best yard in the neighborhood.

And yeah, I'm a little jell-ous too.

When I'm Sixty-Four

Let's think about Social Security. I know, I know, just like dirty diapers or flesh eating bacteria, Social Security is one of those things that people don't like to think about. But, as you also may know, the system is going broke and it's worth at least one blog entry every now and then. In fact on the news they were saying it will be insolvent by the year 2042.

So let's think about it, ok?

First, before I begin, I would like to express my heartfelt thanks to all the twenty-somethings out there who think they are so smart and know it all and who will be supporting me when it's time for me to drop out of the race and go out to pasture. According to the news report, when that happens there will be two of you for every one of me, which says to me that maybe if you were a little smarter you would have been born 20 years earlier.

But that's you're problem not mine.

Before you despair, however, you should know that there is a plan out there called "privatization" that is going to save Social Security. As I understand it this is a Republican plan which means absolutely nothing nowdays since I can't hardly figure what's a Republican or what's a Democrat anymore. I mean the Republicans say they're for a leaner and meaner government but then as soon as they get elected they act like a teenager with a credit card. Buy this, buy that, ooh buy this and that - I read a prediction somewhere that by the time Bush finishes his second term he will have increased the size of government more than was done by the three previous presidents combined. That's a strange kind of downsizing, if you ask me. I mean, isn't it supposed to work the other way? Aren't you supposed to downsize to improve the balance sheet and work your way out of the hole, not load up with debt and sink even deeper.

On the other side you have Kerry who they are calling a Democrat. Now, if I remember right the Democrats were always the ones that said you should use government to improve people's lives, and yet here's Kerry talking about how America has to save and conserve and be more fiscally responsible. That's a democrat?

It doesn't really matter because Kerry will never be elected president anyways. That's my not so bold prediction at least and really it's kind of a no-brainer. America is never going to elect some miser who's always telling them to save and be responsible - that's what parents are for. America wants a president who gives them money and tells them to spend and have a good time and party like drunken sailors. Every time I see old grim-faced John on the tube I can't help but think his whole candidacy is hopeless.

Which brings me to Social Security and privatization - which is going to at least be discussed at some point in the second term. The idea, as you probably know, is to allow us working folk to withhold 25% of our FICA contribution (tax) and invest it independently for our own retirement in Private Investment Accounts. That will save the Social Security system because the higher returns we will be earning in the stock and bond markets will allow the government to reduce the size of the benefit payments and keep the whole thing solvent. That's the theory, anyways.

The reality, as I see it, will be something different. How is it, I ask, that millions and millions of people who can't even balance their own checkbooks are suddenly going to become financial wizards after this privatization thing becomes law? The answer, of course, is that they will not become financial wizards at all. Instead, they will turn over the management of their PIA's (as they're called) to private Financial Services companies who will gladly handle their money for them. For a price.

Well, suprise, suprise, suprise.

Guess that means privatization isn't just about savings the system but it's also about transfering millions or maybe billions of dollars from Social Security to the brokers and managers and all the other commission loving wheeler-dealers on Wall Street who are always willing to lend a helping hand to trusting souls with wads of dough in their pockets. Those politicians, I tell you, they sure know how to look after their special interests, er consituencies.

This will be, I think, the next big gold rush, and if this law passes it would probably be a good idea to have a brokerage stock or two in your portfolio. Personally, I can't wait till the spams start showing up in my mailbox offering me 100% returns -GUARANTEED!- on my PIA. I tell you, I can see it coming, and it's going wind up being one of the great scandals of the 20's or 30's or whenever it is that the whole thing busts wide open.

That's why it would probably be a good idea to have some kind of watchdog agency to oversee and approve the investments that people can make with the money. ETF's and other index funds would certainly be appropriate, as well as no-load low-expense type mutual funds. I mean a lot of investements would be appropriate, but there should be some way to keep out the "double your money in just seven days" schemes, that is if Social Security is going to continue to be thought of as a safety net and not as a roll of the dice.

The Golden Age of Radio

I said I was going to take Classical Voices off the air and I will, but after putting so much effort into it I just can't shut it down without letting it run at least a little longer. Come Sunday it will have been up a week and I think that will be a good time for the station to take it's final bow. Like I said I've been suprised at how successful it's been. I checked the logs and it looks like there have been quite a few people who've stopped in for a visit. Of course, some just stay for a few seconds (the internet equivalent of Auto Seek I suppose), others for a song or two, but most tune in for around 1 to 2 hours at a time and and some for 6,7, and even 8 hours or more. Wow, I wasn't expecting that. I get a lot of one time visitors but also 5 or 6 who seem to come back from time to time. Last night I even found a message in the log saying someone tried to connect but couldn't because the server was full. How about that! Classical Voices was so popular that you couldn't get in if you wanted to.

Oh well, come Sunday it will be history. It was fun being the Rupert Murdoch of my own little media empire for a while, but all good things must come to an end.

Classical Voices

Let' talk about the Radio business, shall we? Notice I said radio "business", not hobby, not experiment, not dalliance or fling, but radio "business". I retired Radio 7 last week and began my tentatively titled Classical Voices station. I'll discuss the tentatively part later, but so far Classical Voices has been received much better than anticipated and I'd like to take this time to blog a few of my thoughts about the experience so far.

Shoutcast vs. Jetcast

In my previous post I talked about moving from the Jetcast platform to the Shoutcast platform, and that's exactly what I did. As I said before I think Jetcast is simple to use and a much better platform for the newbie broadcaster. There is only one piece of software to configure and all you really need to do is fill in the blanks and punch hole in your firewall to get up and running. Jetcast also supports multiple file types which is something I took for granted before I moved to Shoutcast. It's a very nice package and I just wish it had more support in the internet world, but, unfortunately, Jetcast listeners are few and far between.

Shoutcast, on the other hand, is practically the de facto standard for small independent broadcasters like myself. It's been around a long time and pioneered the whole concept of bringing streaming to the masses. It also integrates into the very popular Winamp player which puts your station in reach of millions of potential listeners around the world, and also puts your station into the Shoutcast directory which gives you a very visible presence on the net. If you want to reach an audience there are very few choices that give you the advantages that Shoutcast does.

The software, however, is a bit finicky at times and not as intuitive as Jetcast. There are two packages to be installed - the DNAS or server software, and the DSP plug-in which provides the connection between your Winamp player and the DNAS server. The DSP is much like Jetcast's software and is mainly just fill-in-the-blanks. The DNAS is a little more complicated and configuration involves using a text editor to edit the sometimes arcane and obscure settings contained in an "ini" file. Luckily, there are lots of FAQ's and how-to's on the net to help you along and the process is not difficult, especially if you have set up a Jetcast station before, but the process could definitely use some simplification.

Once you get the DNAS and the DSP set up and have the ports on your firewall configured, the first problem you'll probably have with your first broadcast is getting the the Shoutcast directory to see your station. I say you'll probably have this problem because I had that problem and after scanning the message boards I saw that a lot of other people had that problem too. The key is to make sure you have port forwarding properly set up on your router and to play with the Yport setting for the DNAS. After many starts and stops I finally got it working, and I can't really tell you why it worked one time and not another. It's just one of those things that you'll have to play around with.

The second problem you might have with your first broadcast is silence, as in dead-silence, as in a radio station that plays nothing but dead air. This is only a problem for those, like me, who made a choice at some point to go to a file format other than MP3, because, you see, Shoutcast only plays MP3's. Is that a problem you ask? Well, yes, if you have around 30 gigabytes of music on your drive and now need to take a significant portion of that music and convert it. I haven't done the math but I figure that an average of about 12 minutes per album to do the conversion, I should be done in, oh, about 80 years. Ok, maybe it won't take that long but I tell ya I really don't need this kind of misery right now. All I want to do was stream a little music.

So that's where things stand at the moment. I've got quite a bit of music streaming already but I've got a long ways to go, and any kind of organized playlist is out of the question until I get some more time to see what I've got and how I want to organize it. That's the big difference between us small independent program directors and those big radio station program managers - they get paid to figure this stuff out and we just get misery. But that may not be for much longer because of the last thing I want to talk about today.

Stream a song - Go to jail

"Gee", I can hear you saying, "this running your own radio station sounds kind of fun. Is it legal?" Well, I'm glad you asked because yes, it's perfectly legal under the terms of something the government calls a Simplified Licensing Agreement. What is that, you ask? Well it's actually a lot like the Simplified Tax Code which, as you know, streamlined thousands of pages of overly complex Tax Law into one simple rule that the IRA likes to call "hire an accountant!" Similarly, the Simplified Licensing Agreement is a a framework under which small, non-profit broadcasters can legally broadcast copyrighted works and boils the whole licensing process down to a few, easily followed procedures that the recording industry calls "hire a lawyer!" If you don't believe me just visit BMI's site or ASCAP's site or the RIAA's site and see for yourself. Paragraph after paragraph, subparagraph after subparagraph, tables and calculators, geez, it just goes on and on and at the end they all say the same thing:

"If you are unsure what to do contact an attorney." Well, no kidding!

All I want to do is stream some of the music I love and share it in a non-threatening and non-infringing manner with like-minded people on the internet. Instead I find is a byzantine set of rules and regulations in an equation so bizarre and complex that even Einstein couldn't make heads or tails of it. Clearly the intent of the Simplified Licensing Agreement, at least for individuals like me, is not to simplify but rather to discourage from even trying.

Which I think is a crying shame. I could understand this if I was file sharing or passing out free copies over a peer-to-peer network like Kazaa or Edonkey. That's clearly illegal and I have no argument with those trying to enforce their copyrights on illegal sharers. But I'm not doing that. It's crazy to think that anyone would seriously consider capturing the low-quality 48kbps streams that I'm sending out and burning it to a CD or transfer it to their IPod's. I mean, let's get real. Compared to an actual CD it sounds terrible.

But that's not the point. The point is that people get paid when they're works are performed and no distinction is made between high-quality and low-quality or between for-profit radio stations and for-fun individuals like me, so although I personally don't see how I'm harming anyone with my measly little 4 slots of 48kbs music, the fact is that others probably wouldn't see it that way, and that means I'll probably have to stop doing this and Classical Voices will have go silent. It's fun, but it's not worth a lawsuit.

Of course there are alternatives and in fact a whole little cottage industry has grown around this issue. For a fee there are services like Live365 and swcast.com that will handle the legal paperwork for you and let you concentrate on your stream. But like I said they're not free, and they all have serious restrictions on what you can and can't do with your stream. I might consider one of these if I was doing this as a business and wanted to pay the money for the hosting and/or the servers and the licensing and the legal services and the accounting and the advertising and the marketing, etc..., but aw shucks fellers, I just wanted to do this for the fun.

So, Classical Voices will be gone pretty soon. It was fun setting it up and getting it running, but I have to be real about this. I may still put out a stream every now and then, but for now it's time to move on to something else. Oh, and it won't be called Classical Voices, either. I just found out that there's already a Satellite Radio service that runs a station called Classical Voices, so I'll have to come up with something else.

Huh, between my trademark suit and my copyright suit I should have just about have all the bases covered.

Radio 7

Radio 7 is officially on the air. Well, sort of. It's on the air whenever I remember to leave my computer running, which is not very often, but the fact that it's on the air at all is an achievment. The official launch date was last Saturday, and I'm happy to report that Radio 7 is now proudly streaming music off my hard drive to thousands of listeners all over the world.

Well, ok, maybe not thousands, hundreds would be more like it...oh ok, not hundreds either...yeah, I know, not even tens for that matter, but I did have 3 listeners on Saturday (that's 75% capacity!), and then not a single soul since. It's all my fault too. Everything was running perfectly until, for some reason, I started monkeying around with the playlist. I must have hit a button or changed a setting because all of a sudden my computer became possessed and began playing the same song over and over and over again. Nothing I did could stop it so I decided to stop the broadcast, close down the program, and reboot the computer. And, of course, anyone in the broadcasting business can tell you what happened next...

Dead Air.

Oh my God, I've got Dead Air (or as we broadcasters like to say "technical difficulties"). I rebooted, launched the JetCast softare, and waited for my 3 listeners to come back to me.

And they never came back.

Oh geez, I lost my listeners and now my audience has been stuck at a big, fat ZERO for 3 straight days. Man, I tell you, this broadcasting business is tough. One little glitch and bam, there goes your audience. Problem is, once you lose them how do you get them back? I know a lot of radio stations do the Howard Stern thing to get listeners. You know, that's where you wag your tongue and tell lots of loud, dirty jokes, and if I had to I could do that. I know some dirty jokes, good ones too. Jokes that would make a sailor blush, but the whole thing seems pretty desperate to me.

I'll have to try a different approach. I think the major problem I'm having is using the JetCast platform. Not that there's anything wrong with the software. In fact JetCast is ridiculously simple and makes it almost effortless to get an MP3 stream out there on the internet. The problem with JetCast is that nobody else seems to be using it. I was looking through the JetCast directory the other day and there were only about 20 people total tuned into the 97 streams they had listed. That's not good. That's like having 97 hamburger stands out in the middle of the Mojave desert. Who cares how good the burgers are if there's no one around to buy 'em.

So, I'll be moving to the Shoutcast platform pretty soon. The Shoutcast directory always has hundreds, if not thousands of people tuned in to their streams. Of course, they have a lot more streams and it's easy for a little guy to get lost among all these professional businesses sending out thousands of high-bitrate streams. Who wants to tune into some guy broadcasting four 48kbs streams when there are these monster outfits putting out hundreds of 128kbs or 192kbs streams. It's like a little 10 watt pirate station going up against Clear Channel.

Still, I think Shoutcast is the way to go. You have to go where the listeners are, and just hope they like the choice that you offer. Right now I'm just broadcasting old 70's FM type Rock. Not because I want to but just because that was the easiest for me. It was enough of a chore just getting the thing running without trying to put together a playlist, so I just took some old 70's rock I had lying around on my hard drive, shuffled it up and sent it out as is. My real goal is to put together a 24/7 all opera and vocal music station, but I'll have to put some thought and effort into that. First I'll get the Shoutcast thing figured out, then I'll work on the playlist.

Which brings up this whole question of royalties. Damn. I don't think anyone will mind if I send out 4 puny little streams of 48kbs MP3 audio, but if decide to actually go with one of these shoutcast hosting services things could get a little sticky, couldn't they. Not that any of these other people seem to mind broadcasting pirated music over high-quality streams, but I couldn't do that ( I know, I'm just too good). I think I'll have to stay small and just beg for my listeners.

So I'm begging. Please, give Radio 7 a try. Please, Pretty Please, Pretty Please with Sugar on Top. I'll pay you. I'll do your dishes. I'll clean your house. Anything. Please, please, please, please, please....

(Okay, this is embarrasing. No more begging. Someone will listen. Someone's got to listen. Someday, somewhere. I can't stay at ZERO for ever - sigh)

(Did you notice all the hyperlinks - hint, hint)

If God had meant for men to live in heat like this then he would bring us into this world naked and wet, wouldn't he. But I'm not going to worry about that. Instead I'm just going to think of Christmas trees, and sleigh bells ringing, and chestnuts roasting on an open fire. Unfortunately, with heat like this you don't need an open fire to get your chestnuts roasted. Just get into your car after it's been sitting in the sun all day and believe me they'll get good and roasted. But enough, enough I say. There's nothing you can do about the weather so why dwell on things you cannot change.

Instead, why not forget the cares of the day and just enjoy the cool of a summer evening. That's my plan and that's why right now you can find me sitting comfortably in the backyard listening to a live broadcast of the SF Symphony's Opening Night Gala. The heat has passed and I can't imagine anything more delightful than a little Debussy streaming out of my computer under a twinkling canopy of stars. I'm pretty old fashioned for the most part and like the old, familiar ways, but I have to admit this modern world does have it's conveniences.

And with that I hope you'll excuse me. I hear the orchestra tuning up and so I better get back to my seat. Not much of a blog tonight, but why blog on a night like this.

Hot Music

Ah, is there anything compares to bloggin' on a hot summer's night. 'Course not, but excuse me if I get a little delirious and start to mumble. My brain can't really function when it gets this hot, and tonight has t0 be the hottest night of all since this heat wave started. The truth is it's been so hot that I haven't really done much of anything lately except swelter, and althought that doesn't leave me much of anything to talk about, well that's never stopped me before.

I guess the big news, as far as I'm concerned anyways, is the start of a new opera season out here in the Bay Area. The big event is up in S.F. with Renee Fleming performing an opening night gala for the SF Opera. Damn, wish I had tickets. I can't believe she's going to be in the Bay Area and I'm going to miss that booming, rich soprano of hers again, but that's the way it goes.

I've got a couple of her DVD's though and I highly recommend them.

The first is a Glyndebourne Festival production of Le Nozze di Figaro that dates from early in Fleming's career. Her interpretation of the Countess is not particularly memorable and has a "deer caught in the headlights" quality to it at times, but her singing is incredibly beautiful and leaves no doubt that this is a soprano destined for superstardom. My only complaint with the production as a whole is Marie-Ange Todorovitch's Cherubino which seems more mannered than comic to me, but there are those who would disagree. All in all, though, this is a DVD worthy of any opera collection, or Mozart collection for that matter.

The second is a Met production of Otello with Placido Domingo in the title role, James Morris as Iago, and Renee Fleming as Desdemona. This DVD, in a word, is outstanding. Opera critics (and there are many) all seem to have their favorite Otello's, but Placido Domingo almost seems born to play the role. Likewise, it's hard to imagine a more sinister or conniving Iago than James Morris and Renee Fleming more than holds her own with a really memorable Desdemona. I know the word "memorable" is overused, but this DVD shows that she has the dramatic chops to match the singing and you'll be hard-pressed to imagine anyone else in the role.

Which all just makes me wish I could make it to the gala. Oh well, I guess I can always rent a tux and find a scalper with an extra ticket, but probably not. Maybe the local radio station will broadcast it someday and I'll get to hear it that way. They do quite a few symphony broadcasts and they're going to do a rebroadcast of the Opera in the Park, so who knows. But then again, probably not.

Panning for Gold

Speaking of opera, nothing beats the heat so well as popping in a DVD and enjoying a little Puccini, does it? I guess not, but I got this new DVD of La Fanciulla del West with Placido Domingo as Dick Johnson and Mara Zampieri as Minnie, and that just so happens to be how I spent my sweltering afternoon. Given the circumstances I probably shouldn't give an opinion on it until I have a chance to clear my head and watch it in a more comfortable climate, but what the heck.

First of all let me say that I'm not familiar with this opera at all. Yes, I love opera, especially Italian opera, but I haven't seen or heard them all. I understand Puccini considered this one his favorite and everyone is entitled to their opinions, but I'm kind of a Tosca man myself. As far as La Fanciulla del West is concerned, however, I thought the score was outstanding, maybe his best, but the drama was a little flat with the second act the strongest, the first act the longest, and the third act the strangest. In other words, this opera takes its time getting started, peaks in the middle, and finally falls flat into a tub of mushy sentimentality at the end.

Mara Zampieri heads the cast and I can't say much about her performance other than it seemed okay to me. Nothing special, but certainly not terrible or distracting. Placido Domingo, on the other hand, seemed remarkably weak in the Dick Johnson role. Now there are a lot of Placido Domingo performances on DVD and I know this because I've got quite a few of them (in fact, I'll bet you dollars to donuts that if you've got an opera DVD somewhere at home Placido is somewhere on it), but this is the only one I can recall where he looks so ill-at-ease. It's strange because I remember him saying that this was one of his favorite roles, but he doesn't show it here. Maybe it was just an off night.

The opening is also a little off-putting with all these Italian singers strutting around trying to look like American cowboys, or something, but looking more like the guy in the Lennox Air Conditioning commercial instead. You know the guy in the bib and overalls who's supposed to be some kind of turn-of-the-century Dave Lennox type. Well the chorus are all supposed to be California gold miners but unfortunately whoever did the costumes must have been watching that commercial because these guys looked more like blacksmiths or housepainters. But you get used to it and I think what's more important is that credit should finally be given to Puccini, Civinini and Zangarini for writing what must certainly be considered the first spaghetti western.

Is the DVD worth buying? I don't know. If you've just got to have everything Puccini ever wrote then I suppose it's a moot question. Personally, I'd wait for a better production to come along. On the other hand, at under $20.00 you haven't really got much to lose. And besides, on a hot summer afternoon what else is there to do?

If God Didn't Want Them Sheared He Would Not Have Made Them Sheep

Victories come so rarely in life, but when you do win one it's oh so sweet. My little victory came in the form of a check I received in the mail today, and even though the amount was small the pleasure I got from depositing it was enormous. Let me tell you the story.

About a month and half ago I went into a little quickie lube establishment to get new belts put on my car. The belts had about 85 thousand miles on them and they were looking a little worn, so I decided to pay the 30 bucks or so I figured it would cost me to get them replaced. The guy at the quickie lube wrote me a work order for the belts and told me I could wait inside until the car was ready. I should have known something was wrong when I looked at the work order and noticed that no price had been quoted for the job, but I put my suspicions aside and sat down to wait things out.

Well, about 45 minutes later the lady at the counter told me my car was ready and sort of off-handedly remarked that the amount due was $125.00. Coolly and calmy I politely inquired "$125.00 FOR BELTS!!!", to which she offered no response. I then asked her how in the world they arrived at a figure of $125.00 and again she stonewalled by saying "Sir, that is the charge. How do you want to pay?" I wanted to tell her what she could do with her belts and leave the shop without paying them a single dime, but they still had the keys to my car and I wasn't about to hoof it all the way home.

So I payed them their blood money and picked up my keys, but before I left the shop I decided to pop the hood just to see just what kind of belts you get for $125.00 these days. I was half expecting to see platinum and diamonds when I looked in the engine compartment, but, alas, all I saw was plain old rubber V belts staring back.

After I got home my blood pressure just kept rising and I figured that rather than have a stroke over this I could either swallow my pride and forget about it or I could do some serious complaining. That's when I got on the internet and discovered this wonderful little place called the Santa Clara County District Attorney's Office and a little department called the Consumer Fraud Unit. They had a complaint form that you could download and instructions on how to file, so I printed it all out and proceeded to vent my anger.

To make a long story short, the quickie lube shop soon received a copy of my complaint along with a letter from the District Attorney's Office saying that they were referring the matter to the California Department of Consumer Affair's Bureau of Automotive Repair. Although this didn't seem to garner much of a response from the quickie lube, subsequent letters and phone calls from this nice lady I talked to at the Bureau finally convinced them that it would be in their best interest to settle this matter.

Which takes me to today and this nice refund check I just received. Ah, sweet victory, and let me tell you it is a sweet victory indeed. However my purpose in relating this tale is not to gloat (ok, maybe just a little) but rather to serve as a lesson to anyone who might someday read this. You know, usually I'm pretty content in the knowledge that no one ever reads my blog. If no one reads it then I don't feel compelled to write anything worth reading. But just this once I have to say that I wish I actually had an audience, and I say that because as I was depositing the check tonight I had to wonder how many others had gotten ripped off by this shop and not fought back. And worse, by not fighting back and teaching these guys a lesson, how many more would this shop feel free to rip off in the future? It can become a self-perpetuating cycle unless people put a stop to it.

And so that is my lesson for the day. Yes it was important to get my money back, but just as important was the satisfaction of knowing that somewhere deep in the bowels of the District Attorney's office a file has been started with this shop's name on it. And as more people fight back and complain that file will grow, and someday it just might reach the critical mass necessary for the D.A. to pursue these guys and shut them down once and for all. That's the real lesson I want to pass on. If someone rips you off you have the responsibility to fight back, not only for your own sake but for others who may find themselves in the same situation. Just remember that the law is on your side and can work in your favor, and it is only through your own inaction that we all become victims.

And as I step off my soapbox let me add one last thought - beware of Marlee's Speedee Oil Change on Trade Zone Blvd. in Milpitas. They're a bunch of crooks, and I've got the evidence to prove it.

J'Accuse

There was a game we used to play back in my school days called "Dead Movie Stars", and, contrary to what you might think, the idea of the game was not to think of dead movie stars but to think of movie stars from a certain era like the 1920's or 1930's who were still alive, the point being the more famous the star the better. Anyways, I was sitting in traffic today playing the game in my head and I realized it was getting harder and harder to think of movie stars of yesteryear who are still around.

For example, back when I was a kid there were still quite a few stars from the 1920's around like Mary Pickford and Charlie Chaplin, but I can't think of any who are still alive today. Things get a little better in the 1930's, but now that Katherine Hepburn is gone the pickings are a lot thinner. A few major ones I came up with were:

Shirley Temple
Mickey Rooney
Olivia De Havilland
Jackie Cooper

When I moved on to the forties, the pickings were still pretty slim. I could only come up with three.

Deborah Kerr
Van Johnson
Elizabeth Taylor

I know there must be more, but I can't think of any.

Finally, when I got to the fifties, things started getting a lot easier.

Paul Newman
Joanne Woodward
Ernest Borgnine
Tony Curtis
Charlton Heston
etc...

And then, while I was thinking of the fifties, Richard Widmark suddenly came to mind, and I remembered something that has bothered me for a long time now. That is, I wonder how many people out there are aware that Richard Widmark has never won an Acadamy award, and in fact was nominated only once. I mean when you think back on all the movies he made, and some really good ones I might add, it seems incredible to me that he has never won an oscar.

It was bugging me the entire ride home, so I decided to fire up the old computer and surf on over to the Internet Movie Database to look up his biography, where I got the biggest shocker of all. Here I was at the IMDB, THE online source for movie facts and reviews, THE resource for all things movie related, THE place to go for information on your favorite movies and movie stars, and all they could manage for Richard Widmark was one short, sketchy little paragraph and no picture. Think about it. Richard Widmark, one of the greatest movie stars of all time, and the IMDB doesn't even think he rates a picture. Incredible.

And then I started to get a little irate the way older folk do sometimes when they see their cherished icons fade away into obscurity. It seems the movie fans of today just don't care to remember Tommy Udo in 'Kiss of Death' or Skip McCoy in 'Pickup on South Street'. They've never seen 'The Bedford Incident' or 'Madigan'? Movies like that and movie stars like Richard Widmark are just too quaint and old-fashioned for the sophisticated tastes of today's audiences.

Well, if that's the way it is, then that's the way it is, but I still have to wonder if the Acadamy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences doesn't owe their old stars at least a little bit of gratitude and recognition. Why, for example, hasn't the Acadamy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences ever awarded Richard Widmark a lifetime achievement award? Isn't that an award to honor those who've had outstanding careers and yet were somehow overlooked in the past? Isn't that why Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr were both given their honorary awards? Why is it that previous oscar winners such as Sidney Poitier and Elia Kazan have both won special oscars while someone like Richard Widmark continues to be overlooked? Hell, Elia Kazan already had two prior oscars when they gave him his lifetime achievement award, and Richard Widmark doesn't even have one.

It got my dander up and so I've decided to write a letter to the AMPAS to give them a piece of my mind. I've also decided to send letters to Martin Scorcese and Steven Spielberg and anyone else I think might be in a position to get something done. Not that I think that anyone will read them or care, but it seems like a just cause and, well, what have I got to lose.

And given that Richard Widmark must be around 90 years old, or so, I think it would be especially nice to see him get an award while he is still alive.

Ol' Man River

Isn't it nice to settle down with a cold beverage after a hard day working on the yard and reflect on all the loveliness you're labors have created. The lawn so green and healthy, the bushes neat and trim, the rose blooms glowing iridescent under the light of the setting sun. And as the evening breeze cools off the stifling heat of the day isn't it comforting just to sit there feeling industrious and accomplished, and ....wait a minute! What's that? Over there. Is that a WEED! No, it can't be. I'm finished. I'm relaxing now. I'm enjoying my cold beverage. That can't be another weed.

Oh man I tell 'ya, isn't that the way it always is in life. You work, you sweat, you toil, and just when you think you're finished, just when you think that you've earned your hour of sweet repose, life comes along and throws another weed in your path. I swear I'm getting too old for this.

Of course, that's what's nice about having children - especially young children. You just sit there drinking from life's beverage and when a weed pops up you say "Junior, go pick that weed over there. Yeah the big one - over there. That's it, now throw it in the garbage can. That a' boy. That's the chip off the ol' block"

Yeah, when you get old and tired it's nice to have some kids around. I don't have any kids but I think I better go get some because this working for a living isn't cutting it anymore. Let the young folk fight those battles and let us old timers just sit here and relax in the shade awhile. Sounds good, but before I do that I guess I better go over there and pick that weed .

Please Sir, Can I Have Some More?

I try really hard not to be topical in this blog, but there's this big political convention going on in New York and I just have one little thought I'd like to share. This is not a knock against the Republican party, either, because the thought really first occurred to me when I was watching the Democratic convention last month.

Anyways, as I was looking at the convention on the TV it suddenly struck me how quaint and innocent the whole thing was. I mean there was the delegation from Maine, and Massachusetts, and South Carolina, all waiving their little signs and cheering and gushing over the goings on, and all the while seeming so oblivious to just how irrelevant they had become. And I hate to say it, and I know they mean well, but let's get real here. If the convention truly reflected the p0litical reality of the situation then you wouldn't see state delegations there at all, would you? No, you would see the real powers in American politics down on that floor instead.

For example, over there about 10 rows back would be the Halliburton delegation, and next to them would be GM or Exxon Mobil. Over on the other side you might see the NRA or the Sierra Club, or the tobacco lobbyists or the big agribusiness conglomerates. Way in the back you might even catch a glance of OPEC or a wealthy Asian investor or two. You certainly wouldn't see states or average citizens on the floor, only those who wield real political power in Washington would be allowed. I mean, it's nice that they let us have our election and all, but after the votes are counted and the politicians sworn in, that's when the real transfer of power takes place. And by that I mean the transfer of power from the office holders to the money men.

And on that bitter and cynical note I think I'll call it a night.

Stay Tuned, the Weather is Next


You know when there's nothing else to talk about you can always talk about the weather. Fact is I've been thinking of picking up a few extra bucks on the side by starting my own little South Bay internet weatherman school. I figure for around 5 or 6 grand a pop it shouldn't be too hard to teach any hopefuls out there the basics of South Bay weathermaning. After all, we really only have 3 different kinds of weather down here so how hard can it be? I've even worked out a little course outline and broken it down into 3 easy-to-learn lessons. Feel free to take a look and let me know if you'd be interested in signing up.

My first lesson will cover "foggy at the coast turning to sunny inland." That forecast will work for about 9 months out of the year and is really the only thing any South Bay weatherman needs to know to get started in the weatherman business. Of course people will get bored if you just get on the air and say "foggy at the coast turning to sunny inland" everyday, so I'll also throw in a few pointers on how to break things up a little. For instance, you could say "for you folks at the coast, look for foggy conditions to persist throughout the day tomorrow, and for you folks farther inland, expect plenty of sunshine." You know, embellish it a little and make it sound authoritative and official.

My second lesson will cover "We have a cold front moving in from the Gulf of Alaska but this ridge of high pressure should keep it well to the north of us." That's an important one to know for when winter comes along. You also need to add a "Expect cooler temperatures with a slight chance of showers in the North Bay" if you use this one, but don't overdo it. Just say "ridge of high pressure" and most Bay Areans will know what you mean.

My third and final lesson will cover the rarely used "Expect rain to start overnight in the North Bay and gradually work it's way throughout the entire Bay Area by tomorrow evening." This one's tricky, though, because it can be raining buckets in Santa Rosa and still be bone dry down in the South Bay. If you're a South Bay weatherman and you're going to stick your neck out with this one then you better qualify it by saying something like "Look for heavy preciptation tomorrow, mainly in the North Bay, tapering off by tomorrow evening." Notice the difference?

First of all, instead of using the word "rain" it's always better to say "precipitation" because no one knows what that means. "Precipitation" could be anything from a heavy dew to a category 5 hurricane, so you're not really comitted to anything. That way, when you get angry letters the next day because the rainstorm never came you can always reply "I didn't say it was going to rain, I said it was going to precipitate." Clever, huh? And second of all, never come out and explicitly say that it's going to rain in the South Bay - say "taper off" instead. Don't commit to anything and you'll be just fine.

And whoops, that'll be the course. I know it's kind of quick, but it does contain just about everything you need to know to get started. Three easy lessons and you too could be on your way to an exciting career as a South Bay weather forecaster. And even better, as an added bonus for those who complete the course (and whose checks don't bounce) I'll even add at no extra charge the secret weather phrase that every professional weatherman knows is the key to success in this business. You've probably heard it used a million times and I know it always makes me want to jump out of my chair, stick my hands through the TV screen and strangle the weatherman when I hear him/her use it, but just ask any weatherman how they made it to the top and they'll all tell you the same thing. Know the secret phrase. Know the secret phrase. And if you sign up for the course I'll let you know the phrase as well.

Pretty sneaky, huh?

Oh, alright, I won't keep you in suspense. I'll tell you the phrase but you've got to promise that you won't divulge it to anyone else or use it in a manner that would violate the sacred weatherman's bond. You promise? Ok, the secret weather phrase is.... "on tap". "On tap?", you say, what's so special about that? What makes that phrase so powerful? I don't know, but successful weathermen everywhere use it, and you need only look at the results to appreciate its power.

Try practicing these phrases at home and see if you don't agree:

"Looks like more of the same on tap for tomorrow."
"Let's go to the map and see what's on tap for your morning commute."
"It's gonna start out foggy, but by the afternoon their should be plenty of sunshine on tap."
"Looking at our 5 day forecast looks like there's more hot weather on tap for the remainder of your week."

Yeah, you know what I'm talking about. You hear it all the time but never realized how powerful it was, did you? In fact it's so powerful that Webster's has recently added "on tap" as a synonym for "what's the weather going to be like tomorrow", and not only in America but throughout the world. It's true. You could be in Nepal climbing Mt. Everest and even your Sherpa carrier would understand.

"What's the weather gonna be like up there tomorrow?"
"Huh?"
"The weather. What's the forecast for tomorrow?"
"What?"
"Tomorrow's weather. Do you think we could hit any storms?"
"I'm sorry, I don't understand."
"On tap. On tap."
"Oh, Cold and windy with a slight chance of morning precipitation tapering off by afternoon. There is a cold front moving in from the Gulf of Alaska but this ridge of high pressure should keep it well to the north of us. Expect fog at the coast and sunny conditions further inland. "

Well that's it for me, now it's back to you folks in the newsroom.

The Sporting Life

Now, where was I? Damn, these Olympics have really cut into my blog time. And speaking of the Olympics, I hope you managed to catch the air rifle competition last week. I know, it sounds dull, but believe me, it was anything but.

Imagine taking a BB gun and hitting a target the size of a nickel from 10 meters away. Then imagine having to hit the center of the target, an area no bigger than the period at the end of this sentence, with just the naked eye (no scopes allowed) to get a score good enough to stay in the competition. Then imagine hitting that period from 10 meters away on a consistent enough basis to win the competition. I know the word is overused, but it was amazing. I couldn't believe anyone could even see the target, let alone hit it, let alone dot the i as it were, and you have to wonder how anyone could ever get that good with a BB gun. Mom and dad buy you a BB gun one day when you're a kid and you just keep practicing, and practicing, and practicing, and pretty soon there you are going for the gold at the Olympics.

Amazing.


I Love a Mystery

If y0u haven't read The DaVinci Code yet then congratulations, you're probably the only person in America who hasn't. I thought I was the only person who hadn't read it, but I finally broke down and gave it a read, and all I've got to say is geez, just what we need is another conspiracy theory. I mean I haven't even finished digesting the JFK assassination, Area 54, or the whole flat earth thing yet and, uh-oh, here we go again.

I don't want to get into the details but this definitely has to be the mother of all conspiracies. I guess it all falls into the category of the "big whopper" - you know, the taller the tale, the more believable it becomes. And believe me, this is one tall tale. Yet there I was turning page after page, itching to find out what happens next, ready for the next mind-blowing revelation, sucking it all in just like everybody else. Shows how sophisticated I am.

But it's obvious, really, why people keep falling for this stuff. Just start with some sort of mystery, real or imagined, add some sketchy evidence and unsupported conclusions, say a few abracadabra's, and then take a blind leap of faith into the world of simple answers and presto - you've got yourself one satisfying read. And it is satisfying, much more so than taking a realistic look at things and trying to come up with some sort of reality-based explanation. I mean, would you rather read a Stephen Hawking book about string theory and quantum mechanics with concepts so obtuse that it would take you a lifetime of study to understand them, or would you rather read a Dan Brown book that explains something like the Holy Grail mystery with simple certitude in terms that any child could understand.

I rest my case.


The Opera Ain't Over Till The ...

Just one more thing, and then I gotta get back to the Olympics. There was an article in the paper yesterday about a theater director named Gerald Thomas who it seems got a little upset with the patrons after a performance of Tristan und Isolde down in Rio de Janeiro. According to the article, there were a few boos when the final curtain came down, so aftewards Thomas went out on the stage, dropped his pants, and proceeded to moon the audience. Turns out it caused quite a stir, and luckily for Thomas the Supreme Court finally decided to toss out the obscenity charges against him. But you know what I think? I think this story just points out the biggest difference between going to the symphony and going to the opera. I mean, can you just imagine someone like Michael Tilson Thomas walking out on stage and mooning the audience after a performance of the Mahler 5. No, you can't, can you. That sort of thing could only happen in an Opera House.

God, I love opera!

My Date With Olympia (with apologies to Hoffman)

One thing I never do is mess around on my main machine. When people ask me why I need three computers I tell them - I have a laptop for portability, I have a play machine that I experiment with and try new things on, and I have my main machine with all my important programs and data on it. And one thing I never do is mess around on my main machine. This is one of two unspoken rules I have when it comes to my computers. I never mess around with my main machine being the first, and I always keep my main machine backed up is the second. I'm very strict about this because I don't want to put my important data at risk. It's a pain and a bother sometimes, but you have to be disciplined if you want to be safe.

So, anyways, last night around dinner time I was messing around on my main machine. Well, I wasn't really messing around because that's something I never do with my main machine. No, I was just going to try out this one little thing, and it would only take a couple of minutes so there wasn't any chance of anything going wrong. Nope, that's not breaking my rule, it was perfectly safe.

Well, to make a long story short, about 1 am in the morning I finally got through to tech support to try and figure out what happened to my machine. Everytime I tried to boot it gave me an "Operating System Not Found" error, and reinstalling Windows wasn't working because the installation program kept telling me I didn't have any hard drives. I tried every trick I knew but nothing was working. And I was scared. I mean I've been playing with computers for almost my entire adult life, and this was the first time in a long, long time where I actually didn't know what to do. So, I called tech support and after holding for an hour or so I finally got through.

"Hello, can I have your customer code please."
"Sure, it's blah blah blah blah."
"Thank you, you're name please."
"Blah blah blah."
"Thank you, what seems to be the problem."

I was expecting one of those foreign sounding people you get when you call customer service these days, but this guy was good. I mean he sounded like a sk8tr boy from L.A. So I explained my problem. Computer won't boot, hard drive is MIA, and can't install Windows.

"Did you install the SATA drivers?" he asked me.

(The SATA drivers? They have SATA drivers nowdays? Geez, I don't want this guy to think I'm new or something)

"The SATA drivers? No, say come to think of it, I don't think I did."
"Well sir, you have to install the SATA drivers before you can install Windows. What are you - NEW?"
"No I'm not N- ... Hey look here you punk kid, I've been crashing systems since before you were born. "
"I'm sure you have sir. Let's try installing the SATA drivers and then see what happens."
"Yeah, ok, I was gonna do that but I didn't think it was necessary. Let's see, I need the diskette for that, don't I?"

(Then I hear a pause which can only mean one thing. He's got a lamer on the line and figures he's gonna need to go real slow with this one.)

"Yes, just put the diskette in the drive. Boot from the CD and when the program asks you to press F6 to install the SATA drivers, press F6 and follow the screens."
"Yeah, I know, I know. I've reinstalled Windows hundreds of times before."
"Yes, I'm sure you have sir."

(Yeah, I caught that little sarcastic remark. You think you're pretty smart, don't you kid. Well tell me something, sk8tr boy, if you're so smart how come you're doing tech support on the graveyard shift. I mean, shouldn't a genius like you be out stealing peoples credit card numbers or something.)

"Well that seemed to fix the problem. Thanks for the help"
"Anytime. Have a good night."

So that was that. SATA drivers - didn't think of that. Now all I had to do was activate my copy of Windows. So I go to the website and they tell me there's a problem and give me a phone number to call. By now it's around 2 am but I want to get my computer working so I call and I get their automated activation service. And let me tell you, it's kind of cool. The installation program gives you 8 sets of six digit numbers that you speak into the phone to their computer on the other end, and each time you finish a set of numbers a little doorbell rings and the computer says (in a very sexy voice) "good job". I don't know about anyone else, but it was a real ego trip for me.

"Please speak your first set of numbers"
"654455"
Ding dong "Good Job!"
(Why thank you. Nice of you to say that)
"Please speak your second set of numbers"
"322694"
Ding dong "Good Job!"
(It was nothing really. I've always had good diction)
"Please speak your third set of numbers"
"198654"
Ding dong "Good Job!"
(Oh please, now you're making me blush)
"Please speak your fourth set of numbers"
"547683"
Ding dong "Good Job!"
(You know, for a computer you're really very nice. I was feeling kind of upset when I called but after speaking with you - I don't know. I feel pretty good about myself now)
"Please speak your fifth set of numbers"
"857622"
Ding dong "Good Job!"
(Man, I like talking to you. You're always so positive. Hey, how about you and I getting together a little later)
"Please speak your sixth set of numbers"
"943566"
Ding dong "Good Job!"
(No, I'm serious. What time do you get off?)
"Please speak your seventh set of numbers"
(Again with the numbers. Ok)
"746522"
Ding dong "Good Job!"
(That was a good job, wasn't it. Yep, I guess I'm just about the best number-sayer around. But no one ever noticed before you came along. That's just it, don't you see. No one ever really appreciated me the way you do. I know you're just a computer, but... I think I love you)
"Almost through. Please speak your eighth set of numbers"
"087685"
Ding dong "Good Job! This concludes your Windows activation. You may now press the Finish button to continue"
(That's it. Just press Finish and pretend that none of this ever happened. No, I can't. I can't, I tell ya. Please, computer, don't let it end this way. If you walk away now, you'll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But soon, and for the rest of your life. Computer, are you there? Computer? Computer...)

And that was that. I got my computer back. I loaded the drivers and all the basic software I needed to get going again, and then I looked out the window and could see the night sky starting to fade to blue. The clock said 5 am and I had to be at work in three hours, but my main machine was up and running again. And so I got about an hour and a half of sleep before I dragged myself off to work, and all day long I just dragged and dragged, and now I'm home and I should be sleeping, but...

(sigh) how can I sleep with this broken heart.

And We Go 'Round and 'Round and 'Round in the Circle Game

The guy on the radio asked if we could guess which city ranked number one as the worst city in America to drive in, and I blurted it out before he could even finish the question. Yep, that's right, hands-down, the worst city in America to drive in is good 'ol Boston Massachusetts. Of course I didn't need a survey to tell me that. No, I've driven cross-country at least nine or ten times (did I tell you I hate to fly) and across Canada twice, and no city I've ever been through - not Seattle , not Washington DC, not even the big apple even comes close to Boston in terms of nightmare places to drive. In fact Boston is unique in that it is the only place I've ever driven where you can get totally lost even with map in hand.

I still remember the first time I drove Boston about 15 or 20 years ago. I flew into Logan airport planning to rent a car and drive to my hotel in Cambridge, Mass. On the map this looked like a fairly simple procedure. Just exit the airport, get on the freeway, cross the Charles River, and make a left towards Harvard University. So I rented my car, took one of the little maps they had at the counter, got my bearings, headed out of the airport and managed to wind up in Salem, Massachusetts (which, by the way, is no where near Cambridge).

How did I end up in Salem, you may ask. Well, I don't know. I was doing alright at first. I was on the freeway going over the river, and everything was going great until I took the wrong exit off the freeway. Of course I didn't know it was the wrong exit at the time so I just drove and drove until suddenly I looked out the front windshield and saw the Atlantic Ocean lying out in front of me. Hmmm, I said, that doesn't seem right, and sure enough after checking my map I saw that Cambridge shouldn't be next to the ocean but in the completely opposite direction.

Well that's ok, I said, applying my California driving skills to the problem, I'll just head back towards the freeway and start all over again . Unfortunately, before I could find the freeway I had to figure out where the hell I was, and therein lies the first problem with driving around the greater Boston area. You see, in California we have these things called street signs. You generally find them at intersections and they help the driver identify not only the street he is currently travelling, but cross streets as well. They don't have street signs in Massachusetts, however, because apparently all those Harvard and MIT grads out there have got the entire state memorized and don't need them. I need them, though, and so I looked and looked for a sign and couldn't find one, and then I drove a little further and still couldn't find one, and a little further, and so on and so on, until finally I just said the heck with it and turned the car around and headed back in the direction I just came. Which brings me to the second problem with Boston driving.

You see, in California we tend to have very simple intersections. Two roads meet at more or less perpindicular angles and you have the choice of turning right or left or continuing straight ahead. Around Boston, however, things aren't so easy because (1) the roads don't run perpindicular but kind of meander around this way and that and meet at all sorts of crazy angles and (2) a lot of times when roads meet they come from all different directions and just bunch together like pieces of knotted string. So like I said, I turned around and started back the way I came but soon discovered the road looked very different when viewed from the opposite direction, and sure enough it wasn't long before I came to one of these seven-way intersections where I had the choice of going kind of down and to the right, or kind of up and to the right, or straight ahead, or kind of straight ahead but a little to the left, or kind of ... well, you get the picture. Oh, and did I mention - no street signs!

So the light was red and I was desperately searching my map for big knotty intersections next to the ocean, but I couldn't find any and didn't have a clue which way I was supposed to go. Suddenly a little bulb went off above my head and I remembered an old children's game - one potato, two potato, three potatoes, four. The light turned green and I said "Ok, that way looks good" and off I drove. Well the road started off ok, I mean it seemed to going in the right direction, but then it started to meander on me and soon I was looking out of my windshield at the Atlantic Ocean again. Only this time I was really lost and didn't have a clue where I was at.

And then I had another brainstorm. I was looking at my map and noticed that if I just followed the ocean north, I should run into an east-west road sooner or later that would take me back to the freeway. It seemed like a brilliant idea at the time, and would have worked except for the third problem I had with driving around Boston. This third one is hard to describe because, you see, we don't have these in California, or anywhere else west of the Appalachians as far as I know. But out in Boston they've got these wonderful little things, little traffic devices they like to call Rotaries. Up in Canada they have them and call them roundabouts, but up until that first trip to Boston I had never run into one before. Little did I know I was about to get an education.

A rotary, for the uninitiated out there, is a little traffic circle that is used to connect intersections together. They were invented in France, I believe, and the most famous one is probably that thing that runs around the Arc de Triomphe in Paris. The idea is simple. Cars enter the rotary and go around in a circle until they reach their destination, at which point they exit the rotary. The cars in the rotary have the right of way and those entering the rotary yield to the traffic in the rotary until it safe to enter. That's the theory, anyways, and after all what could be simpler. My experience, however, was a little different.

First let me say I was lost and didn't know where I was going. Second, I didn't know what a rotary was. And third, it was about 6 o'clock in the evening and the height of rush hour when I entered this one. Now, remember, in theory when you enter the rotary you are supposed to yield to the traffic in the rotary and enter when safe. Well, safe is a relative term, I guess, because when I approached the rotary all I found was total, dog-eat-dog chaos. Cars were racing around in circles, weaving in and out, cutting each other off, leaning on their horns and in no mood to let some newbie from California "enter when safe". To their credit, though, I must say that Massachusetts drivers are an exeptionally patient and understanding lot, and as I sat at the entrance waiting for a chance to enter it seemed the cars lined up behind me went out of their way to be helpful. I remember looking in my rear view mirror at them and seeing their arms sticking out their windows, middle fingers extended up in the air, which seemed incredibly thoughtful to me. It was some type of signal, I thought, sort of the polite Massachusetts way of gesturing "Yes, you may safely proceed now." Ah how fondly I remember all the friends I made that day.

Eventually I got tired of waiting and decided to just say the hell with it, it's not my car, and hit the accelerator and jumped into the fray. I made it into the rotary (although I wouldn't say "safely") and started my little adventure. Soon it became apparent to me that in Massachusetts, at least, yield is strictly an acadamic term, and in reality the car that has the right of way is whatever car you happen to be in at the time. Once I got used to it I was alright. You know, it's a kind of a "kill or be killed" experience. The adrenaline starts flowing, the blood pressure starts rising, and pretty soon I was giving others the old Massachusetts signal just like they had so kindly extended to me. Unfortunately I still didn't know where I was going (did I mention -no signs!) and so I just one potato, two potatoed it out of the rotary and went on my way.

And I never found that east-west road. About a half hour or so later I was in Salem and no, it wasn't Cambridge, it wasn't my hotel, but then Salem is a nice town. Sort of quaint and New Englandy with little sailboats dotting the ocean, and so I stopped by the famous House of Seven Gables and walked around the grounds a while before I got back in my car made my way back to interstate. The interstate took me south and about five hours after landing at Logan I finally managed to make it to my hotel where I parked my car, slept all night, and then made the decision to take the MTA the entire rest of my stay. Thank God for the MTA. It had routes and maps and all I needed to remember was what color train to take.

Just as a postscript, the survey didn't mention the easiest city to drive in but I'd have to say Chicago, Illinois. Once you learn the freeways (let's see the Ike, the Kennedy, the Stevenson, the Tri-State, the Dan Ryan, ...) Chicago is a piece of cake. My kind a town.

A Fool and His Money

Well I've finally got some time to spend on my blog but don't seem to have anything on my mind today. Sure was a beautiful day, though, and that's the problem right there - I'm in too good a mood to be writing right now. You know, we writers have to be depressed and disillusioned before we can really set pen to paper, but what the heck. At least when there's nothing else to write about I can always take a stab at the financial news. Everyone's got an opinion about money, right? Well I do anyways, and I'm sure I can do just as bad a job of predicting the future as any of these other financial writers/advisors out there. So here goes...

I see a lot of people seem to be worried about the housing market these days. Prices keep going up and a lot of experts keep talking about the housing bubble. They also talk about rising mortgage rates and the increasing number of homeowners with adjustable rate mortgages. Add to that declining incomes, declining prices, sporadic job growth, and high debt-to-equity ratios among homeowners and it's no wonder they've got people worried. To which I say "So what?"

I mean, isn't it clear that if you have rising real estate prices alongside declining incomes then that must mean that homes are undervalued? How else can you have both things at the same time. Think about it. If real estate is overvalued or fairly valued, then declining incomes are going to shrink the pool of potential buyers. But the fact that real estate prices have been increasing (booming, in fact) clearly indicates that housing is still well within the means of most people, even those who have lost jobs or have been forced to take lower paying jobs.

Here in Silicon Valley some 200,000 or so jobs have been lost over the last few years while the median price has climbed around 17% to $599k, and home sales are still brisk. That would indicate to me that you could still see another 10%-15% rise in the median before prices start to approach fair value, and if employment begins to pick up then you might see another 25%-30% rise in the median after that. I'm just making up those numbers, of course, but then this isn't a real financial column anyways.

Anyways, I was talking to someone last week and she told me there was no way that prices could keep rising. She said that people were already overextended and it was just a matter of time before they all were priced out of the market. I admitted she might be right, but I think there were 2 points she was missing. First, here in Silicon Valley there is a housing shortgage, there has always been a housing shortage, there will always be a housing shortage, and that will always be bullish for housing prices. Second, as long as there are lenders there will always be someone coming up with a new scheme to get people buried in debt. I think people are more focused on the monthly payment than the sales price anyways, and if a lender can find some way to come give people an affordable monthly payment then housing prices will continue to rise. I don't know what they'll do, 50 year interest-only adjustable rate mortgages, maybe, but as far as I'm concerned, the housing bubble is a myth. Remember, you heard it here first.

The stock market, on the other hand, is different. By that I don't mean I think it's a bubble, but I do think I hear a bear starting to growl. There was an interesting little article in one of the financial mags today where the author used a word I hadn't heard in 25 years. I don't know if anyone remembers the old "S" word, but back in the '70's we had an economy that somehow managed to combine inflation and recession into something that some clever economist called "stagflation". Now I'm not going to compare economic conditions in 2004 with those of 1974, but it was interesting to note some of the similarities. If you think back, we had just finished a war, we had rising oil prices, we had rising inflation and we had huge deficits, all of which left the stock market flat for many, many years. Of course inflation was much worse back in the '70's than it is now, but the deficits were much smaller as well so it's fair to at least make the comparison.

If I remember correctly, gold was the big investment back then, along with those new fangled things they called money market funds. So, you ask, does that mean we should be dumping all of our stocks and moving back into money market accounts and precious metals? Hmmm, tell you what, you go first. Actually, I have been looking at some bear funds lately, just in case, but I'm an old dyed-in-the-wool Graham-Dodd type and it's not an area I feel comfortable with. Still, you've got to change with the times and if it seems prudent to go short with part of my portfolio, then that's what I'll do. But I wouldn't be suprised to see a little bounce before the end of the year and I don't think I'll do anything drastic before 2005 rolls around anyways. What's that old Chinese curse - "May you live in interesting times"? Seems like when it comes to investing I'm always living in interesting times. I guess that's the draw of it all.

So that's my financial column. I hope you liked it. It's all a bunch of bull, of course, but at least it's well thought out bull. At least I hope so, and maybe next time I have something more interesting to write about.