Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Fenton, Death Sheep from Hell
If you don't understand Full Metal Attack Sheep--and who could?--you won't understand this.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Strawberry
We got the first strawberry from our garden boxes. Or possibly the second; I suspect a squirrel got the first.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Fingerprints
We took someone to church Sunday, and while at church, her purse may have disappeared from my car. Nothing else went missing, so it's also possible--in my opinion, likely--that the purse is still in her apartment. I nany event, she reported it stolen and an officer came out to try to take fingerprints off my car. This involved using a miniature feather duster to brush black powder onto the window and door handle. No prints were found--evidently they don't last long.
The fingerprint powder stain, however, lasts quite a while.
The fingerprint powder stain, however, lasts quite a while.
Awards
I was looking through an old note pad this morning and came across the list below. In 2000 and 2001 my customers included Sun Microsystems and Netscape. One of them gave award plaques to their software teams:
- Least Intuitive Name for Your Platform
- Best Rescue of a Doomed Fortune 100 Customer
- Last To Finish
- Best Response to a "Make It Work Like Windows" Request
- Postal Service Award: He Seemed Like a Nice Guy, Kinda Quiet, Kept to Himself...
Return of the Prince
They have cast the Prince from his throne on high
And proclaimed a brave new day
They have named it with Freedom's ancient name
In Caesar's ancient way.
They enjoin our souls to seek new goals
Since released from tyranny
And abjure the Prince and his wicked works
For theirs is mastery.
But hear a dusty bugle rave,
the snarling of the drums,
The whisper from a sunken grave
Where the bones are astir:
"He comes! He comes!"
And see his flag of moonlit clouds advance
Across a waste where the cold winds roam.
The ghosts of old go riding
Through the dark to meet him
So shall the Prince come home.
--Poul Anderson
(This is from a novel I read nearly thirty years ago. I don't recall the title or much of the storyline, and I'm not certain my memory of the poem is exact...but I still remember the poem).
And proclaimed a brave new day
They have named it with Freedom's ancient name
In Caesar's ancient way.
They enjoin our souls to seek new goals
Since released from tyranny
And abjure the Prince and his wicked works
For theirs is mastery.
But hear a dusty bugle rave,
the snarling of the drums,
The whisper from a sunken grave
Where the bones are astir:
"He comes! He comes!"
And see his flag of moonlit clouds advance
Across a waste where the cold winds roam.
The ghosts of old go riding
Through the dark to meet him
So shall the Prince come home.
--Poul Anderson
(This is from a novel I read nearly thirty years ago. I don't recall the title or much of the storyline, and I'm not certain my memory of the poem is exact...but I still remember the poem).
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