I just want to say hello to all the Federal and State spies, out there somewhere in the internet, spying on me and my computer today.
How's it going, guys?
You folks are going to need an unfathomably huge storage bin. But, you've got the money, right?
And, now, the great hive mind can search relentlessly through that huge pile of data! Wow!
The Karaoke Queen and I took in the new Star Trek movie last weekend. Into Darkness was about what I expected. Chases and explosions played out through the big 3D iMax screen and a killer sound system. It was an OK, fun flick.
The above image, I guarantee you, is flashed on the screen briefly during Into Darkness. I'd tell you the name of the character, but I can't remember and it doesn't really matter. A speeding, screeching procession of images shown from different vantage points is what the 3D iMax has to sell for now. Vertigo and adrenalin. Is that all there is?
The 3D iMax technology is impressive. I love it when those animals poke their heads out from the screen, into the back row of the theater. Nothing like it.
As much as I enjoy the chases and explosions and non-stop action, I can’t help but notice that the stories are all re-runs. Kirk and Spook were reincarnated in a very confusing way in Into Darkness. The Tribbles episode was referenced. Old Spock had a cameo.
The pace of technological change continues to outpace the ability of humans to write compelling stories for these new technologies. Has anybody out there tried writing in a new narrative structure more suited to 3D iMax? What would that be?
For a while, I guess the audience will be satisfied with the same old stories told in the new mediums. The adrenalin rush derived from the chases and explosions is quite bracing and we’re not used to it yet.
I’d like to be on this earth long enough to find out what the narrative techniques become when the technology is taken for granted.
My Yahoo e-mail account was hacked this morning. How do I know? I started receiving dozens of e-mails notifying me of the failure to deliver e-mails I’d never sent. Lots of those “MAILER DAEMON” e-mails stacked up in my In-Box.
I like the concept of a demon causing such things to happen in the computer universe. The computer universe harbors many devils and mischievous imps.
My Safari browser has been acting kinda weird for a while. It’s slow to open some sites. I’ve been aware for a while that somebody was trying to poke their way inside my computer. Could it be the IRS? Perhaps the NSA? You’d have to be a conspiracy nut to think that way!
Why would somebody want access to a list of my e-mail contacts? There are so many reasons, I will only list the top few:
Somebody out there is watching and sifting through my entire life, which resides on my computer. Unless I yank the thing out of the internet and use it solo, that amorphous somebody will continue to watch and collect information.
Hmmm!
Over the past year, I’ve returned to a gig that I had when I was a kid. I’m playing organ and singing for Mass at my local parish. I enjoy this gig more than I thought I would.
I started out thinking I was only in it for the money, that I would sharpen up my skills, re-learn the order of the Mass, then head south to Jersey to find a parish that could pay a decent salary for a part-time organist and choir director... the perfect retirement job. To my surprise, the gig has turned out to be fun and fulfilling.
I left the Church in late adolescence. My Catholicism fell apart in that social uproar of the 60s. For reasons that I cannot even remember now, it seemed to me that I had to agree with every Church doctrine and that Catholic theology had to be justified against what I thought was rationalism.
I lost sight of something I often tell people now when they want to drag out some sin or shortcoming of a Catholic cleric.
The Church exists to serve sinners.
Playing for Mass sets a structure for my entire week. The first thing I do every morning (well, second, if you include breakfast) is to repair to my music room to warm up my voice. My vocal warmup is a 13 minute exercise that functions like prayer to focus my mind and to bring me to emotional peace.
After that, it’s on to rehearsing the hymns for Mass. I loosen up and sing a few blues tunes after that.
When I resumed my church gig last December, I approached the gig as a performer would. I was gonna knock ‘em out. Quickly, I realized that I really did want to lead the congregation in song, which meant that I wanted them to sing with me, not just listen to my genius virtuousity.
I’m becoming pretty skilled at that. I arrive 45 minutes before Mass to prepare. 30 minutes before Mass, I play the tunes (but I don’t sing) to acquaint the parishioners with the melodies of the hymns for the day. I’m very conscious that I’m trying to create an atmosphere of serenity and meditation for those who come early to pray.
The congregation has been so appreciative! They are singing along. I love that. One of the keys to making this happen was learning to sing in that sotto voce style you think of Cat Stevens using in “Morning Has Broken.” I lead enough to help the congregation, but I don’t overwhelm them.
After every Mass, the congregation gives me a round of applause and a handful of people come up to shake hands and thank me. This is quite gratifying.
What’s really gratifying, however, is the sense of peace, purpose and clarity this brings to my life. My psychological and emotional outlook for the entire week is changed by these rituals.
Yes… rituals. Things that don’t make literal sense. Things that are kinda inexplicable. Like prayer.
I’m surprised to discover that I don’t really need to march in lockstep with every facet of Catholic theology, I don’t have to endorse the Pope and I don’t even need to know who or what God is to enjoy the benefits of these rituals. (That's why we submit to confession.) All that matters to me is that the rituals work, and work to my benefit.
I wish I had understood this way back when. My life would have been so different.
I’ve already harvested lettuce for a couple of salads from my garden. The red leaf is particularly yummy. Commercial lettuce is just about tasteless. It’s bred, primarily, to survive being transported in trains and trucks.
Two weeks of consistent rain have given my garden quite a jolt. My tomato plants have doubled in height and started flowering. I side dressed with Tomato Tone, a supposedly “organic” fertilizer.
Hard to say what the word “organic” is supposed to mean. Tomatoes crave potassium, nitrogen and potash. No matter what the source of these ingredients might be, these are chemicals. I guess the idea behind “organic gardening” is that these chemicals should be obtain from wholesome, natural sources instead of the chemical factory. Whether that makes any difference… I dunno.
The rain is a mixed blessing. Tomatoes are my riskiest crop. Torrents of rain at the right time can encourage growth. But, if the soil doesn’t dry up for an extended period, root rot will set in and my tomatoes will suffer. My house is at 1000 feet elevation. Up here on the mountaintop it is always 10 degrees cooler than down in the valley.
My tomatoes will thrive if fall doesn’t arrive too early. The overnight temperature has to stay in the 50s or 60s well into September, and that’s never a given.
I’m living at my house full time for the first time in four years. Contract jobs have taken me away to Jersey and NYC where I lived in a rented room while I tried to make some dough. So, I can tend my garden closely.
I’m hoping never to go the rented room route again. Being home is wonderful. Escaping the confinement of the office and the cube is heaven.
The lettuce will last about six weeks if I pick a few leaves off each plant every day for my salad. When the rains stop and long hot days set in, the lettuce will bolt and turn sour.
Remember that black bear cub I wrote about some time ago? You know, the one that’s been raiding my compost heap? Well, the little bastard just tried to claw open my front door to get into the house. Pic of the cute little bastard below.
I have a garbage can out in the garage where I accumulate a few bags before I make a trip to the dump. Over the weekend, I opened up the garage door to find garbage strewn all over. My little friend had pushed in a screen window and torn the garbage apart.
What a stink the little fellow left behind! Not just garbage either. Bears stink to high heaven. They like to roll in mud and shit and garbage. Smells good to them, I guess. I left the garage door open for two days to try to get the bear stink out of there.
Today, I was sitting at my desk in the front room, doing my usual shit at the computer, when I heard a scratching noise at the front door. I walked over to find that bear cub standing on its hind legs, trying to figure out how to open the door.
I’m usually not afraid of bears, but things have gone to hell here. This bear cub seems to have been given the boot by momma bear, who’s probably given birth to another cub. My nemesis is about a year old. Probably not very good at hunting and gathering yet, so the cub is desperate. She can smell food in my house, and she’s gonna keep trying to find a way to get in. Wouldn’t you?
I’ve been trying to take this in stride. I enjoy seeing the cub when she visits my house. But, once the cub gets in my house, I’ll have to find a way to get her out, and that could get mighty dangerous.
So, tomorrow, I’m gonna call the DEC and rat out my little bear cub buddy. They’ll probably trap the cub and relocate it. At least, I hope so.
The Fed is monitoring everything we Dawgz do and say on the web! Yeah! We can trust the Fed, right? Government is the one thing we all belong to!
Makes me wonder. All of our computers are equipped with those little cameras. Can the Fed turn on the little camera on my computer whenever it wants? Is this Dawg under surveillance now?
Hmmm!
Where and how is all this surveillance data being stored? If Big Brother is storing up tons of surveillance video from our PCs and Macs, where is he storing those mega zillions of terabytes of video data?
OK, so imagine, lowly Dawg, that you are Big Brother. You’re like God. You are everywhere. You can see and hear everything. The result… madness! How do you sort out what you want from this raging stream of crap? Some sainted programmer must create search algorithms capable of sorting through the crap.
More than likely, Big Brother will keep your (and my) data hidden away in a folder somewhere out there in the ether, as a backup just in case we need disciplining. Dawgz can be bad.
Programmer Dawgz by the hundreds must be hacking out code in warehouse cubicles located in office buildings from coast to coast. What an opportunity to make some dough! The job… figure out the most cost effective way to sort through that massive heap of data and find the relevant gems of information.
What might those gems be? If you were Big Brother, what would you most like to know about your Dawgz? What would most interest and entertain you? All of our Dawg thoughts typed into Facebook, and every click we’ve ever moused… stored out there in the vast repositories of Big Brother, our beloved Fed.
This Dawg pound is being watched.
The most exciting part of any motorcycle rally is the ride to the site. I jumped on my Road King in Woodstock at about 8 a.m. yesterday, passed through the toll booth in Saugerties and opened the old girl up for the ride north on the Thruway. At each interchange along the way, a few bikes joined me.
North of Albany the bikes began to mass up and, Jesus Christ, what a roar of Harley engines! Boys love to make noise! Some women riders, too! The last 30 minutes before we hit the exit ramp at Lake George, I felt like I was in the cavalry, charging toward battle. Parked the Road King in a sea of thousands of bikes and headed off to the carnival.
Americade opened up last Saturday and runs through this weekend. It's all about motorcycles and motorcycle gear. And memories of those who are no longer with us, as in the pic above. Every time I mount the Road King, I remember Myrna clinging to my back as we roared off to the rally.
Americade spread out all over Lake George. I was just day tripping. For those who want to really rack up some miles on their bagger, this region is a gas. You can circumnavigate the lake. That's a half day trip. No matter which route you take through the mountains, the roads twist and turn. Just right for Daddy and his Motorcycle Mama on the back seat of that big old cruiser!
My first stop was at the exhibit hall to look at all the gear. See the pic above. I touched and held that great $800 Schuberth C3 Pro helmet I wrote about a couple days ago. Most of the action was at the patch vendor's exhibit. For a few bucks, you can have the guy in the pic sew a big patch on the back of your leather.
Anybody know the model year of this Harley delivery bike? I'd guess somewhere in the 30s or 40s. The minimalist leanness of this bike is beautiful. Nothing at all to the driver's seat, 'eh? Built for a young man with a hard ass.
Check out the "Bible" license plate on this bagger. The driver was parked along the main street in Lake George, fishing for souls among the riders. Some motorcycle riding groups worship the devil. Other groups look up to Christ! Take your pick. Get that giant patch stating your preference and sew it on the back of your leather vest!
This guy really did up the Jesus theme! He even commissioned custom paint on his tins. Scenes from the Bible! Free bibles, too! I'm much more into the Death's Head design. My next Harley will be done up entirely in Death's Head chrome. Riding makes me feel close to death. The slightest loss of concentration could mean death or serious injury.
The main event at Americade is the Demo Rides. Just about every manufacturer trucked all their bike models to Lake George. If you are a licensed rider, you can take a ride on just about every motorcycle on the market. Above, a group of riders take the odd ball Can Am Spyder out for a spin. Next year, when I start to seriously think about buying a new bike, I'll spend a few days at Americade riding every production bike.
Started to drizzle at about 4 p.m. Frigging weatherman blew it. He promised I had a window to about 6 p.m. The guy in the pic above pulled this super extravagant Indian Chief Vintage under the cover of the tarps. If I win the Lottery or the Old Dawgz graduate to playing regularly at Madison Square Garden, I'll gladly plunk down $40,000 (with tax and license, and maybe a little extra chrome) for this mammoth super bike. Next year, the Chief will sport an 1819 cc engine!
Drove home on Route 9 through Saratoga and Glens Falls. The Thruway is a nightmare even in a light rain, because the cars and trucks throw all the wet shit from the roadway up into the rider's face. And, I didn't want to exceed 45 m.p.h. on those slick roads.
The last 30 miles into Woodstock were pretty grim. I was cold and soaked. But, pretty proud of myself for staying upright and arriving home alive.
Yeah, I know it doesn't make much sense. I like action. Some of the best things in this life don't make much sense.
Yes, Woodstock is all about guitars. Guitar sculptures mounted on poles have been springing up all over town.
I dropped in on the senior yoga session at the Community Center today. Not at all a bad session. Even a tiny bit challenging. On the way home, I stopped to take these pics.
Diamond board, a material often used in pickup truck beds, is a nice piece of body armor for a guitar. And, Captain America is a motorcycle reference to the movie Easy Rider, right?
The guitar on the far left in the above pic is in front of Candlestock, our local candle store. Peace signs definitely belong on a Woodstock sculpture.
Have no idea who executed these or who decided to place them on Tinker Street.
The Old Dawgz pack met at the base of the Rondout on the Hudson riverfront in Kingston for a photo shoot yesterday.The Karaoke Queen kindly handled the camera.
First stop was a stone house that I thought was home to a maritime museum. The Old Dawgz wuz laughing and shucking and jiving in the doorway while the Queen took pictures. An old guy stormed out of another door and shouted... "Hey! What are you doing? This is a private home!" Oh, well! We got the pics we wanted and we piled back into the car.
Big Joe vetoed a couple of locations I wanted to hit on account of the sites are owned by Wise Guys. I was ready to take them on! So, we headed next to the hulking remains of a mid-50s Mack Truck. Great photo site. What a hood ornament, huh? Bulldawg Brian on the job!
I brought the Harley along for possible use as a prop. Spent the entire effing day cleaning and polishing the old girl. She's still pretty! I left the windshield at home because she's sexier without it. I ate a lot of bugs on the way home at dusk. I'll have to wash and polish the bike again before I head up to Americade this week.
Those Salty Old Dawgz search for landfall! As usual, Bulldawg Brian is headed in the opposite direction.
After the shoot, the Dawgz sat down to Mexican food at Rosita's. We had a good time.
Time to update that PR kit! These days a PR kit is your website and Facebook. So, those ever glamorous Old Dawgz will be doing a shoot today. I scouted out some sites along the Kingston river front yesterday. The Karaoke Queen has kindly agreed to shoot the photos.
My son-in-law, Zak, found this site for me. I asked him if he knew of an old Mack truck with the bulldog hood ornament. He first told me that he couldn't think of a truck like that. Then a few minutes later, he had a picture of this beauty up on Facebook. This mid-50s Mack is just across the street from Zak's house.
This is the doorway to an old lighthouse that is now a museum on the river front.
The above site is, I think, a very cool industrial background, particularly with that tugboat in drydock. Good chain link fence, too. Keep those Dawgz from running free.
The truck above is what got me thinking about finding a Mack truck. I love the big, bold cab on this slightly over the hill workhorse. But, it's a GMC. No bulldog ornament.
Old Dawgz can also be Salty Dawgz, right? Found this on the wall of a restaurant down by the Maritime Museum.
Yes, being an Old Dawg gives me a life of extravagance, glamour and adventure. The thrills never end!
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