Could God microwave a burrito so hot that he himself could not eat it?
These are the kinds of things that spring to mind while you're feverishly trying to recall that it's SHIFT-click which will allow you to flow text between master page elements in InDesign. Maybe it has something to do with the "Christian Chicks" product booklet that one of the printers sent me as a sample. THIS RIDE HAS GOD INSIDE. And the ever classic, "BODY PIERCING SAVED ME" with a picture of Christ on the Cross. How... tasteful.
Sunday, January 22, 2006
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Roe v. Wade
Uncool. Indiana legislature aims to outlaw abortion. One in five pregnancies = abortion, according to their numbers. Actual numbers substantiated by the CDC can be found here. Seems to be a reasonable correlation.
If you want to prevent abortions, how about you start with preventing conceptions? Abstinence-only education doesn't work, but condoms sure as hell do. And when condoms or common sense fail, you have Plan B. And when that fails, you have surgery. Without the option of which, you're going to see a lot more women who "fell down the stairs" or had a nasty encounter with a coathanger, ergot, mistletoe tea or a slippery elm stick. I went to my hometown over the holiday and in fifteen minutes of gossip with a girl I barely remembered, I heard about how a ridiculous number of the people I knew had either gotten (multiple) girls pregnant, or who had gotten knocked up themselves. Now that's rural Illinois. And at least when I was kicking around, the rape and incest victims were a bit too young to catch child. But, as a rule, most aren't too young. And wouldn't you at least want an exception from having to bear and/or raise the offspring of some selfish sadist if you had the unfortunate luck of being in his way at the wrong time? And think of the rural population who can't necessarily make it out to a more enlightened region for treatment. It's like the girl who was refused emergency contraception by a Target pharmacist on the grounds that the pharmacist morally objected. What recourse to the girls, thus denied, who do conceive if such actions are not restricted and if bills like this are passed?
It's like the people who argue that pedophilia is marginally understandable because our species so lately bred at a tender age. Regardless of the fact that in our modern society, a fourteen year old is no more capable of complete social responsibility than a toddler because of how our social development is implemented. Nothing good can come of it.
If you want to prevent abortions, how about you start with preventing conceptions? Abstinence-only education doesn't work, but condoms sure as hell do. And when condoms or common sense fail, you have Plan B. And when that fails, you have surgery. Without the option of which, you're going to see a lot more women who "fell down the stairs" or had a nasty encounter with a coathanger, ergot, mistletoe tea or a slippery elm stick. I went to my hometown over the holiday and in fifteen minutes of gossip with a girl I barely remembered, I heard about how a ridiculous number of the people I knew had either gotten (multiple) girls pregnant, or who had gotten knocked up themselves. Now that's rural Illinois. And at least when I was kicking around, the rape and incest victims were a bit too young to catch child. But, as a rule, most aren't too young. And wouldn't you at least want an exception from having to bear and/or raise the offspring of some selfish sadist if you had the unfortunate luck of being in his way at the wrong time? And think of the rural population who can't necessarily make it out to a more enlightened region for treatment. It's like the girl who was refused emergency contraception by a Target pharmacist on the grounds that the pharmacist morally objected. What recourse to the girls, thus denied, who do conceive if such actions are not restricted and if bills like this are passed?
It's like the people who argue that pedophilia is marginally understandable because our species so lately bred at a tender age. Regardless of the fact that in our modern society, a fourteen year old is no more capable of complete social responsibility than a toddler because of how our social development is implemented. Nothing good can come of it.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Contrary to Good
Regardless of what may happen to me, someone a seat over (or a world apart) has an even worse time of things. I think it's pretty miserable to be sitting on a cross-country flight running a fever and the risk of respiratory distress from some CES-borne contagion. At least I was headed home. Next to me and one row back were two girls travelling from Sydney, headed to Boston on some RSA Security business. The girl one row back had every symptom of an early kidney infection, and she had to be met by paramedics at the gate.
Nothing makes you wish you'd found the time to take that EMT course than hearing, "Is there a doctor, a nurse, an EMT or any medical professional on the aircraft?"
Having to go straight from your flight to a foreign hospital for something that you thought was just a touch of illness is not cool -- and it's worse if you're travelling for work. Depending on the actual problem, she might be out for a day or two, or she could be out for the rest of her holiday. Our weather won't help any. Compared to that, my fourteen hours spent on my roommate's couch in a fevered delerium seem like fairly light duty. The worst of it came and went when I was senseless enough, or asleep enough, to not mind. I may even go bowling tonight if this trend continues. I didn't even crack a rib from coughing, unlike Lizzie. So while things are contrary to good here, they're really not all that bad.
Nothing makes you wish you'd found the time to take that EMT course than hearing, "Is there a doctor, a nurse, an EMT or any medical professional on the aircraft?"
Having to go straight from your flight to a foreign hospital for something that you thought was just a touch of illness is not cool -- and it's worse if you're travelling for work. Depending on the actual problem, she might be out for a day or two, or she could be out for the rest of her holiday. Our weather won't help any. Compared to that, my fourteen hours spent on my roommate's couch in a fevered delerium seem like fairly light duty. The worst of it came and went when I was senseless enough, or asleep enough, to not mind. I may even go bowling tonight if this trend continues. I didn't even crack a rib from coughing, unlike Lizzie. So while things are contrary to good here, they're really not all that bad.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
LuX0r
By the generosity of Wahby and Gonj (thanks for the wake-up and thanks for the ride), I made it to Vegas and didn't even forget anything important. CES is going to be unbelievably huge, nay, ridiculously huge. American trade shows generally don't allow one to have women pole-dancing at an expo booth, throwing swag and merch down do the hordes below, and it shows. Yes, Virginia; even in Vegas, you can't use flesh to advertise. As a result, even the half-constructed booths are no less than visually assaulting. I mean stunning. I mean... it's like the booth runs over to you, grabs your face, rubs itself in your eyes and then scampers back, giggling, to it's actually static location. The power of Christ compels you to follow.
Now to make the scene complete, one only needs imagine these booths packed to ultimate density on a grid with 5' wide aisles stretching on for an area of twenty-eight (28!) football fields. Fill every inch of free space with an exhibitor or conference attendee and crank up the olfactory quotient because CES is attended by a queer mix of engineer, A/V geek and marketing staff. And musky weasels. Our marketing staff warned us that finance analysts and investors also try to grill the engineers and occasional product line manager under cover of the convention. I'm young and don't know very much, but I'm told that will make me a target for analysts and competitors. Maybe I should pack in some emergency tomato juice, just in case.
As soon as the rest of my now-backup demo arrives at the hotel, I'm headed over to the insanity-in-progress. Yesterday, they didn't have much for me to do. Today may be much of the same, although I'll at least get the skinny on the demo proper and will double-extra-test the demo bits I brought. We'll also blow a few breakers as we work the bugs out of the power handling system. Tomorrow through Sunday, I'll be working the booth and wandering around the Las Vegas Conference Center in a sensory stupor.
I'm going to see if I can get through the week without gambling. It's tempting, but then I see the crusty old dude smoking at a slot machine being served by a tired waitress in breast-popping attire (looking down to notice she's wearing the same pull-on sandles that I wore when working at a the Glass Haus, on my feet, for 8-12 hours a day in '99) and it suddenly loses its appeal. The lights would be glamorous, but they're really tacky compared to Frostbyte's work or even the relatively amateur pieces at Burning Man. I do appreciate, however, how the signs to things lead you through the greatest possible area of the casino floor. Still, I attest that gambling is a lot more fun when you're losing money to your friends at PokerNight or Casino. You certainly appreciate the waitress more when it's a girl you know who's drink-bitching for dollars and chips down her corset, shuttling booze between an angry Amittai bartending in the bathroom and the comparatively oppulent schmucks gambling in the kitchen. As a sweeping generalization, anonymity takes the fun out of everything -- it's better to debauch in good company.
Reporting from the 26th floor of the Luxor, with a birds-eye view of the Sphinx's ass: woz out.
Now to make the scene complete, one only needs imagine these booths packed to ultimate density on a grid with 5' wide aisles stretching on for an area of twenty-eight (28!) football fields. Fill every inch of free space with an exhibitor or conference attendee and crank up the olfactory quotient because CES is attended by a queer mix of engineer, A/V geek and marketing staff. And musky weasels. Our marketing staff warned us that finance analysts and investors also try to grill the engineers and occasional product line manager under cover of the convention. I'm young and don't know very much, but I'm told that will make me a target for analysts and competitors. Maybe I should pack in some emergency tomato juice, just in case.
As soon as the rest of my now-backup demo arrives at the hotel, I'm headed over to the insanity-in-progress. Yesterday, they didn't have much for me to do. Today may be much of the same, although I'll at least get the skinny on the demo proper and will double-extra-test the demo bits I brought. We'll also blow a few breakers as we work the bugs out of the power handling system. Tomorrow through Sunday, I'll be working the booth and wandering around the Las Vegas Conference Center in a sensory stupor.
I'm going to see if I can get through the week without gambling. It's tempting, but then I see the crusty old dude smoking at a slot machine being served by a tired waitress in breast-popping attire (looking down to notice she's wearing the same pull-on sandles that I wore when working at a the Glass Haus, on my feet, for 8-12 hours a day in '99) and it suddenly loses its appeal. The lights would be glamorous, but they're really tacky compared to Frostbyte's work or even the relatively amateur pieces at Burning Man. I do appreciate, however, how the signs to things lead you through the greatest possible area of the casino floor. Still, I attest that gambling is a lot more fun when you're losing money to your friends at PokerNight or Casino. You certainly appreciate the waitress more when it's a girl you know who's drink-bitching for dollars and chips down her corset, shuttling booze between an angry Amittai bartending in the bathroom and the comparatively oppulent schmucks gambling in the kitchen. As a sweeping generalization, anonymity takes the fun out of everything -- it's better to debauch in good company.
Reporting from the 26th floor of the Luxor, with a birds-eye view of the Sphinx's ass: woz out.
