I confess to getting sucked into the Harry Potter books after constant harassment by a friend. But in Harry Potter Pampered jock, patsy, fraud, Chris Suellentrop debunks the cult of Potter, claiming that the young wizard is just another quidditch jock skating by on his parents' money and reputation. hehe.

The most amusing thing is how seriously some of the people commenting on the article are taking it.

Pulled an all-nighter on Friday fighting with a brand new $20,000+ Dell Linux server that kept freezing up. It has now gone 22 hours under load without keeling over, so hopefully I'm done with the danged thing. On the other hand, the $1000 Linux server sitting under my desk hasn't gone down since I installed it in July. The IT gods can be a fickle bunch.

I'm going to be out of town this coming week -- I've been recruited to speak to college students about my job 'n stuff. Should be an interesting change, but it's also a bit intimidating. (Like all of a sudden I'm some sort of role model or something!)

Right now I'm busy straightening up the house -- don't want the catsitter to know what a slob I really am...

In election news from Tennessee, it looks like we're going to have a lottery and a democratic governor. (But a Tennessee democrat isn't that different from a Republican anywhere else.) Lamar Alexandar won Fred Thompson's old senate seat, which was vacant after Fred quit to pursue an acting gig on Law and Order.

A constitutional amendment to repeal a $50 limit on fines imposed by the government without a jury trial did not pass despite receiving a majority of votes cast. The limit was written into the state constitution in 1796, when $50 was a much bigger deal. I waffled on this a bit, but eventually decided that slumlords and other scum should have to pay a meaningful fine if they violate city ordinances.

In local Nashville news, term limits were once again upheld for the Metro council. (In most cases, I think term limits are a bad idea. They just reduce the number of choices available to voters and lead to a lot of lame duck candidates who don't care what the public thinks anymore. If you don't like what a politician is doing, it's your right to vote them out. You don't need a term limit for this.)

I'm stuck at work working on programming for a project that has to be done by tomorrow. To test it, I have to fire the scripts up and let them run for a few minutes before I can tell if they're doing what I want.

Problem is, I have no attention span, so I keep firing them up and then going off and reading blogs, writing e-mails, staring aimlessly into space, etc. Then when I make it back to the real work, I've forgotten exactly what I was trying to test in the first place. This has happened repeatedly tonight. Urk. Think I need to go home.

Well, I just turned 27. So far I've celebrated by, um, working on a paper for my database class. The fun never stops, I tell ya.

This is actually from yesterday, but I'm in the mood to rant a bit, so... It appears that the nut jobs found out a few kids were actually having FUN in school, so they got right to work making sure that sort of silliness would never happen again. See Schools no longer embrace holiday from yesterday's Tennessean. I have many fond memories of dressing up and going to school in sometimes horribly uncomfortbale costumes that my parents spent hours on. I remember one year my brother wanted to be an ear of corn, so my parents put together the costume complete with a ski cap with tassles hanging out of the top. (I think that's still around somewhere at home.) Why are we trying to take away these sorts of memories from our kids? I find the fact that people call Halloween a pagan holiday to be especially laughable. A number of our modern Christmas traditions are rooted in pagan solstice rituals, but I bet these folks have no problem whatsoever with having a Christmas tree in their house. Cultures have always mixed and melded, and the meaning one culture places on a celebration may be totally different from another. In the case of Halloween in 20th century America, we basically have a secular celebration that's mainly about dressing up, scaring people, carving pumpkins, and getting sick on tons of candy. To attach any deeper meaning to it is just plain nuts. I really hope this is just a Tennessee thing and not a nationwide trend...

Couldn't find my good pumpkin caring knife, so my jack-o-lantern looks like it got hacked by some sort of ghoul. Then again, I guess that's kind of the point.

Back in Nashville now. The interview with "Company X" went ok, I think, but I really don't know if the job is a good fit for me. Seemed like the place wasn't necesarily very open to new ideas, and I didn't get sense that there was a whole lot of excitement about what they do My stress level in my current job was near an all-time high this morning, but as I went through the day I began to appreciate some of the things that we've done since I got here. I feel strongly about the way certain things in our business are going, and I wonder if these ideas might clash with the culture at Company X. On the other hand, it's in a part of the country I'd much prefer to be in. And there may be some interesting advancement and networking possibilities involved in the job. And it would be an opportunity to learn some new things. And it might pay better. I've had this little argument going on in my head ever since I walked out of the interview, and it's driving me to distraction. Which is bad since I have a midterm due tomorrow and have barely started it. Ack!

Out of town for afformentioned job interview. Visiting some friends while I'm at it. Still waffling - we'll see how I feel about this after tomorrow.

And now a tale of technological woe...

So there I am in coastal North Carolina, and I have to hop a plane and fly home to decidedly noncoastal Nashville in about 6 hours. Wanting to avoid this unpleasant reality as long as possible, I grab the bare necessities (towel, sunglasses, and, of course, cell phone) and head down to the beach. I arrive at said beach. I set down the towel. I take off the sunglasses. And I head for the water. (Those reading carefully have probably already noticed the problem here.)

I dive blissfully into the ocean, enjoying the crashing waves and salt water. I get in about chest deep when I notice a strange sensation coming from somewhere in the depths of my bathing suit. (No, not that kind of sensation, you perv!)

Always alert for sharks and other precursors to the loss of vital anatomy, I swat at it, only to realize that it is rather rectangular, and is vibrating in a rather mechanical way. Sort of like, well...

CRAP! Grab for pocket, and retrieve a very wet cell phone that is shaking like it's about to self-destruct. That would be bad, I figure, so I attempt to remove the battery from the back of the phone. Only the battery is spring loaded, and immediately flies off and disappears beneath the waves. I make a brief attempt to dive after it, only I'm still trying to hold the drowning remains of the phone above water. At this point people on the beach have noticed the strange dance I'm doing, and are probably considering calling in the coast guard for a maritime rescue.

After a minute I give up on the battery and head for shore to deposit the phone. Then I head back out to the area, and remarkably find the battery with my foot.

I retained some hope that my poor little flip-phone would come back from the dead after a few days of rest. After all, I've seen computers get doused and come back to life. (Although the salt water was sort of a new twist, I have to admit.)

For the first day or so the cell phone would vibrate in a sickly way if I reattached the battery. But now I like to think it has passed on to a better world. And I've temporarily reverted back to my previous cell phone (circa 1999) which weighs about 20 pounds and will come in handy if I ever need to take out a mugger.

So I guess I'm in the market for a new phone one of these days. (And as my pennance, I'm giving mocking the stupid things my users manage to do to their laptops. At least for a week or two.)

Page says I don't post enough. And she's right. Truth is I have a horrible case of Blogger's guilt about this. So I hereby resolve to increase the level of inane crap I post on this page. When I get around to it, anyway.

Guilty pleasure of the day: Last week, I ordered several books for my Organizational Performance class from Amazon.com. I had a coupon for $10 off my order, but only if I spent more than $50. So naturally I had to buy a few "bonus" items. (After all, I have to do my part to support the American economic recovery.) So I threw in a copy of Home by the Dixie Chicks, and the DVD of Amelie, which I saw in the theater when it was released in the US.

So instead of flowcharting and analyzing, I spent the last few hours watching the whimsical Parisian flick. Which, I have decided, is one of my favorite movies of all time. It is just a beautiful film in every respect, and the story appeals the closet romantic in me.

So I finished the DVD, and had pretty much decided that I needed to take a trip to Paris. Then I clicked on the director's commentary while I burrowed back into my laptop. Suddenly, I heard director and Montmartre native Jean-Pierre Jeunet tell me just how bad an idea this was:

Dont come to paris. It's a nightmare for the French people. And this film is a big lie, believe me. Paris is very different. We have a lot of dog shits on the street. It rains every day. And we have a lot of traffic jam. This film is a big cheat.

(pregnant pause)

Except Montmartre . Montmartre is very nice.

And later, admiring a shot:

It's a little bit like a real set. Look at this set, it's amazing. You know, Paris is very nice.

Sorry, Jean-Pierre, I'm not buying your "Paris sucks" routine...

When I got back from vacation, this little gem was waiting on my work voicemail. Note that while my company has a telemarketing department, I have absolutely nothing to do with it.

Look here as soon as you return October frickin 14th. This is [NAME OMITTED TO AVOID LITIGATION]. I have a letter from you that says you will not telemarket me again. I've had some of your crappin people call me today and I don't appreciate it. OK? Why don't you wake up down there. Why don't you get somebody to happen. And find out what you're doing. If... if... if... I am called one.. more.. time.. I will turn my attorney over to you and we'll deal with it then. So why don't you shake some crap up down there boy. Punk sissy. <click>

I thought this was pretty amusing, but it's nothing compared to the voicemail received recently by one of the Tennessean's music writers. (Scroll down until you see the headline You're not going to (expletive) believe this!)

The Last Page asks a thought-provoking question:

Which would be better? If the sniper stopped now, with this last killing, and got away, never to be heard from again, or if he killed just one more person and got caught.

You can read my answer here. Scroll down -- as usual, I'm late...

Got back from vacation on Monday, but have been dealing with accumulated piles of crap at work and midterms for school. So haven't had a lot of time to post. The beach was great, despite a near miss from Tropical Depression Kyle one day. In other news, the loyal readers will remember the out-of-town job I've been stewing about lately. I now have an interview scheduled for it, but I'm still just as wishy-washy as always. We'll see what happens. Will try to spend a bit more time posting this weekend...

Currently on vacation with my parents on the North Carolina coast. And, while I have my laptop with me to do classwork, it appears that the closest internet access number is long distance. So expect few postings this week...

The Washington Post has a profile of the historian at Arlington National Cemetery. The piece closes with this:

One time, he was making his way through the cemetery, when he spotted what he thought was a discarded soda can. How could anyone be so insensitive, he wondered.

But as he walked over to the headstone -- the grave of one of the casualties of the Persian Gulf War -- he realized it was an unopened can of Iron City Beer and that there was a note attached: "John, we said we'd share a beer when you came back. Welcome back." Sherlock left the can where he found it and walked away.

I have a friend in medical school who has basically furnished his department with drug company freebies. (pens, glasses, clocks, towels, etc.) Unfortunately for him, looks like the gravy train is leaving the station...

This is old, but very amusing.

As you may know, Clippy the Paperclip was ostensibly killed as a marketing gimmick to promote the launch of Microsoft OfficeXP last year. The company actually set up a website complete with an animated movie portraying the delivery of the clip's pink slip. Clippy's voice is done by (who else?) Gilbert Gottfried, and his favorite saying through the piece is "HEY! YOU! WOULD YOU LIKE TO WRITE A LETTER???"

The site also features a "kill the paper clip" game, a link to Clippy's Amazon Wish List and Clippy's Resume (he's job hunting now).

<sigh> If only they could put that much effort into writing secure code..

I am utterly amazed by the efficiency of spambots. My kumquat301 e-mail address has only been around for a few months, and it's already getting dozens of offers for Viagra, University Diplomas, Hot Young Teens, etc. In the interest of closing the barn door after the horse has been made into paste (or something like that), I just obfuscated the e-mail address on the left -- hopefully that will prevent things from getting any worse!