With or Without U2

If you like U2, and I know you do, then you may have some thoughts on this.*  I just listened to the Coverville episode that was a U2 cover story.  Some of the covers are good, but the last one really grabbed me the most [When Love Came to Town featuring Herby Hancock, Joss Stone and Johnny Lang].  Anyway, I found that almost all of the covers lacked the passion that Bono puts into the vocal parts.  When you get accustomed to certain sounds, songs or bands some covers really come up short.  But this got me to thinking – I know, I try not to think too much, but I had to this morning.

When U2 eventually stops making music (I’m referring to death, not the reunion tours, the senior home tours and the depends sponsored tours that the Rolling Stones have done) more bands will do covers and the next generation of fans will be born.  Bands will do U2 covers to new listeners, those listeners will then get turned onto the original band and it will be a new sound, even though it may be decades old.  Or, because they don’t know the original song will they later not like the U2 version?

In the end I think what will impact people most is the fact that Bono looks like he’s Robin William’s brother.

Bono & Robin Williams

*I also know you like rice cakes with butter and salt on them.  Yup, I know my readers really, really well.

Things I’ve Learned: Making It Up Won’t Get You Anywhere

My cousin Norm had a neighbor Jimmy.  One time my cousin came over to our house with Jimmy and they declaired that they knew everything that could be known (and they weren’t even teenagers!).  So my brother and I set about to stump them.  It didn’t take long before we were asking questions about how certain things happened and they would dissertate and pontificate about how things went down.  Lies.  All lies.  More lies than a politican on trial.  More lies than I had heard from one stream of consciousness ever.  But it was entertaining.

The obvious stupidity of Norm & Jimmy’s truthiness made an important statement: it is better to say that you don’t know than to lie your way out of anything.  Confessing that I don’t know anything about why worms are tasty treats to fish is much better than coming up with stories involving schools of fish being taught to eat the worms… really.

Look out for Outlook

I have been using outlook at the request of client.  What a pain in the rear-end.  Its like a pretend mail client.  It is like driving an SUV in an Indy race.  Sure, its a larger engine in size and weight, but the body also is heavy, the performance is weak and the thing is going to be
lapped by every car on the track within minutes.  By every car I mean every other client including the web based client I work on for the client that requested I use Outlook, Thunderbird and carrier pigeon.

Query: Do spiders pass gas?

Wow.  I just found the best search query ever reaching my site: “Do spiders pass gas?”  Who comes up with these questions?  And why are they asking the internet?  And why is the internet telling them to get their browsers over here?  I mean, I know this site has lots of weird stuff on it, but I don’t recall barking spiders as being a literal occurence.

This is Probably Not a Surprise

This evening I watched a Wendy’s restaurant employee carry a large stack of food from Taco Bell (across the parking lot) into Wendy’s.  Nothing says company loyalty like that.  At least she could have worn civilian clothes so that she looked like a rude customer instead of a traitor 🙂

Uncle Ben

I just said something to Abby that is probably wrong, but I’m going to blog it because I was so amused. We had finished brushing her teeth and she whipped her head forward to spit out the toothpaste. A small bit of her hair flopped into the sink (no toothpaste made contact). And with movie star-like brilliance I said, “Abby, watch out. With great hair comes great responsibility…”

It was touching, I could have won an academy award or something.

Sleep, Its a Good Thing

Well, the Puppy has mellowed out now and is getting used to Jessica and I beling the Alpha Male and Female.  Last night she slept through most of it without issue.  At 2:00 AM I had to get up (we set an alarm) and take her out to go potty, which she didn’t do, but I let her try at least, then I went back to bed.  Not until the morning at six did I have to get up again.  It was like sleep, except that it had one interruption.  I don’t do well with interrupted sleep and every time we have a baby I have taken a week to get used to it.  After about that long I get used to disrupted sleep and my body learns to fall back to sleep rapidly.

It is nice to sleep without whimpering from the puppy in the background, though.  It makes it a more restful sleep and I don’t feel like some nasty person who is ignoring a baby dog.  Which in essence the whimpering is output for that sole purpose: “Whimper, yip, yip, whimper! [You are ignoring me, but I can yip longer than you can lay in bed trying to fall asleep]!”  It is like Bill Cosby talking about the children asking over and over because they know they’ll live longer than you 🙂

7 Things in 7 Days: Day 8

I hate advanced Mathematics.  I come from a line of really sharp mathematicians but the brilliance really skipped me because I took Algebra 1 twice in Junior High and High School.  My job requires me to do some math, but it is not often difficult stuff.  What’s funny is that some mathematics I can do in my head without thinking about it, while other parts just cause my brain to fry.  I blame my failure in mathematics on lots of things, but mostly the part where the story problems were horrible.  I love stories.  I love problem solving.  But I don’t like lame problems in story problems.  If they had put practical things involving jumpes, bikes and blood I would have totally gotten sucked in at that age.

Example:

Randy is riding his bike at 45 miles per hour down a hill in the Sierra Nevada’s.  He crashes and is bleeding on the road side.  His father picks him up in the Suburban moments later and travels 5 minutes to pick up Randy’s brother.  From the point of picking up Eddie to getting home to wash up the distance is 35 miles.  The Suburban gets 12 miles to the gallon.  How many pints of blood will Randy lose before getting home to be bandaged up?

That is a perfect story problem.  There’s drama.  There’s action. And of course there is a little bit of trickery because nobody cares how many dollars Randy’s dad spent on gas driving the suburban, it was when gas was barely over $1.00 a gallon.

Have you noticed that I also don’t do super at things like spelling?

7 Things in 7 Days: Day 7

The Internets.  I love them.  All of them.  DARPA, AOL, dialu-up, broadband, ISDN, WiFi, usenet, BBSes or mobile phones.  I love the internet connections that bring me funny things like the standup comedy that inspired the name of our new dog.  I also love that I can email friends, family and business contacts as well as Nigerian spammers for so little.  Of course I really need to reply to a few people in the very short term because they’ve been waiting on me 🙂

I love that the interwebs bring bloggers together so that you can leave comments on this blog.  And other blogs.

I love that blogs are called blogs on the sneakernet.  Blog is short for ‘weblog’ which is a name somebody came up for an online diary.  Which is a name somebody came up with because saying you have a diary on the internet sounds kinda stupid.  However, it is now commonplace for folks to embrace the intersnot movement of MySpace usage.   Except for me.  I cannot for the life of me create a MySpace account.  If someone held me at gunpoint and said, “Create a MySpace account or I’ll blow your forking head off! [which they would totally say because I ask violent assailents not to swear around me]” I would just start crying because it is an absolute impossibility for me to get past the CAPTCHA part of their account creation page.  It simply will not let me in.  Which is fine, because I don’t want a MySpace page.

I also love that the Internut has Xanga, which is like the ‘Junior’ version of MySpace.  It is where more safe oriented people create severely handicapped blogs.

And of course, who doesn’t love that the internot hasn’t brought together people from all over the globe.  I read about people I’ve never met (but would love to meet) who live in Seattle, New York, Australia (sorry, Phil, I don’t recall where you live), China, Texas, Salt Lake City, and can’t tell you most of my neighbor’s names.  I’m going to remedy that one day by become a politician, and then I’ll finally have a reason to knock on their doors.