More food for thought

I believe in the betterment of your mental faculties. I would, too, being a rational and reasonably intelligent creature.

The more time you spend thinking about your philosophical predicament, the less time you spend thinking about the shit that’s going to give you an ulcer.

To that end I will furnish my reader with more food for thought in the form of modern day koans.

Here is today’s thought fodder:

* How much can I get away with and still go to heaven?

* If time heals all wounds, how come bellybuttons don’t fill in?

* Why is it that bullets ricochet off of Superman’s chest, but he ducks when the gun is thrown at him?

ROL

Localize it!

Problems problems…

I guess it doesn’t matter how much you fix things – in a general sense – if you don’t really know what is broken. I mean, I have been going slightly mad by degrees since this computer badness started happening because the minute you get one thing working somthing else craps out.

The whole “why is it only my profile that does not work” thing has been met with sniggers and sarcasm all around as well as derogatory comments about my skill and aptitude. And I have been trying to explain that the damned thing is possessed. I have stood over it reciting vade retro satana in a booming voice, unnerving my co-workers and they say it’s not the computer, it’s me.

Turns out I was right all along! Ha! Vengence is mine!

It is the computer. It’s not me – I am not being persecuted by the minor God of Computer Fuck-up. It might sound like a bad thing, but it really isn’t. It’s actually a good thing. Because now that we know what’s wrong we can bloody well fix it!!!

And I shall decend upon the tech like the mighty wrath of the minor God of Get It Done until he does.

Good thing too, I’ getting sick of hearing myself bitch about it.

ROL

Long week

I’ve just finished a seven day shift working ten hour days. Long week. And I’m an insomniac, so just because I work doesn’t mean I sleep. We’ve got staff and bosses away on vacation, problems arise – as they do – and those are all on me. Fine. I like problems. Problems have solutions. You fix it and move on. But then there is always the other kind of problem. The “that can’t happen” kind. And I have been having quite a few of those this week…

There I am, by my computer, quietly working away, keyboard going tagata tagata and suddenly I’m in Amish country. Internet connection gone. All dark.

There’s swearing. Bad words in many languages. There’s me looking at my computer with a decidedly frosty gaze. Had we been in an interrogation room I would have been leaning over the desk by then, directing the harsh light of my desk lamp in its eyes and demanding answers. So of course I try to get a hold of the guy in charge, but all he can say is “it does that sometimes” and I really don’t find that very helpful.

Come Saturday still no internet. Server not found. After having stared at that message for two days you really begin to have personal feelings about it of the “oh, really, asshole – well it’s right over THERE” variety. Saturday afternoon rolls around and the guy who can maybe fix things finally shows up. He goes up into the attic where all the hardware is stacked and comes back down with a sheepish grin. All the equipment – router, switch, modem, thinga-ma-bob and stuff – are stacked neatly directly under a leaking pipe. The attic is fucking huge and the pipe has sprung a leak in the only place it really shouldn’t have, causing the modem to short out. Hence – no internet. Hence – me not being able to do any of the real important stuff for two days. I make lots of helpful suggestions right about that time. Maybe we should buy one of those little pink kid’s umbrellas and rig it above the hardware? Or perhaps throw a tarp over the whole thing? Or maybe move the whole thing about a metre to the left? Or right? Or anywhere but where it was? Stuff of that nature.

Saturday night I’m down at the pub, drinking with the boys, giving them a short recount of my week and the three computer nerds at the table find this all very amusing, of course. I make a big joke of the whole thing, saying “well, now one of two things could make my week complete, either the power goes out, or the fire alarm goes off”.  

You see where all this is heading, don’t you?  

Sunday morning. 08.14. Power goes out.

Sunday morning 08.15 I am too busy laughing to go find the fuse box to see if I can fix it. Sunday morning 08.19 I have pulled myself together just enough to find the right switch to turn the power back on.

There’s more swearing later when both printers stop working because of the power outage but I could fix that so that wasn’t that bad.

Should you find me in the hallway with my arms outstretched in the form of a cross reading verses in Latin while sprinkling holy water – don’t be surprised. Technology is a beautiful thing when it works. When it doesn’t I no longer only rant, I become just a little bit angry. I feel the need to kick things, which is probably the most dissatisfying aspect of the cyberspace experience. There’s noting to kick. Except the technician. But I keep telling myself it’s not his fault.

ROL

Up River

It’s not that I’m an angry person per se.

It’s just that sometimes you feel a rant coming on and there’s really nothing you can really do about it.

It starts like this:

I was watching TV. I about four seconds flat I went from postprandial coma to full on blazing working class hero indignation. The show was one of those innocuous lifestyle programs following a day in the life of some duchess or other as she traipsed around her house (i.e. big assed manor) and grounds ordering the servants about. In my heart of hearts I know this is all good and fine and she is probably a nice lady and all that – but WHAT THE ???

And, because I have the kind of mind that likes to poke things with a stick, I suddenly become aware of my own red hot anger and the distinct feeling that had this been in revolutionary times I would have been up there with torch and pitchfork ready to loot, pillage and behead – and I ask myself: “Now, why is that?”

The reasons are actually quite simple.

Why do we spend so much time watching programs about food we will never cook, clothes we cannot wear and lifestyles we can never afford?

Why is our wanton desire for more than we need the subject of prime time TV?

And like the stupid asses we are we watch the duchess clip-clop about on gleaming parquet floors complaining that there are scuff marks on the newly painted walls from where the movers bumped the furniture the last time they had to shift it to accommodate the two hundred or so guests at the last dinner party.

This passes for entertainment? All things considered I’d rather watch rednecks wrestling in Jell-O to win money.

That, in short is the reason Ranting Out Loud exists. Be warned: Here be Dragons. And I will sit at the end of the river like Kurtz, just waiting for Marlow. And while I do that I intend to play with the bunnies. If you have any clue as to what I am on about please come visit and don’t be afraid to let your voice be heard.

ROL