Yahoo! News - Asian Disaster Death Toll Passes 22,000
What a day....
The news out of Asia is horrifying; so many dead.
A man with too much time and living in the US's only true Banana Republic...
Monday, December 27, 2004
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
Another office computer/user story...
Our office is very close to Main Office geographically, so we tend to be the pilot for a lot of things.
Recently, a decision was made to go wireless on the office networks, so our IT people came and installed a wireless router in a central location in the building. They then activated the wireless features on the laptops, told us to go ahead and begin using the router, and to let them know if anything unusual happened.
I went through the office and verbally told each one of the employees with those laptops to unplug the cables from the laptops, to use the network as usual, and to let me know if anything odd cropped up. Initially, everything worked like a charm.
Well, I had to leave a couple of hours after the IT folks left the building. A final swing through the office revealed no problems.
I wasn't out of the building more than 10 minutes; I had driven less than 5 miles from the office. My cell phone rang:
Caller: " I had to call and tell you what K just did!"
Me: (apprehensively) "ok....tell me"
Caller: " The minute you pulled out of the parking lot, K came running down the hall yelling for you. He was yelling you had to come quick because there was something wrong with his laptop. I asked him what was wrong and K yelled back (as he ran by) that he was getting an error message saying to change power sources immediately, and he'd never seen that before. I told him that when you ahd told everyone to go "wireless", that didn't mean to unplug the power cords too because the friggin' electricity doesn't go through the air! When he went wireless, he REALLY went WIRELESS!"
I went home with another headache....
Our office is very close to Main Office geographically, so we tend to be the pilot for a lot of things.
Recently, a decision was made to go wireless on the office networks, so our IT people came and installed a wireless router in a central location in the building. They then activated the wireless features on the laptops, told us to go ahead and begin using the router, and to let them know if anything unusual happened.
I went through the office and verbally told each one of the employees with those laptops to unplug the cables from the laptops, to use the network as usual, and to let me know if anything odd cropped up. Initially, everything worked like a charm.
Well, I had to leave a couple of hours after the IT folks left the building. A final swing through the office revealed no problems.
I wasn't out of the building more than 10 minutes; I had driven less than 5 miles from the office. My cell phone rang:
Caller: " I had to call and tell you what K just did!"
Me: (apprehensively) "ok....tell me"
Caller: " The minute you pulled out of the parking lot, K came running down the hall yelling for you. He was yelling you had to come quick because there was something wrong with his laptop. I asked him what was wrong and K yelled back (as he ran by) that he was getting an error message saying to change power sources immediately, and he'd never seen that before. I told him that when you ahd told everyone to go "wireless", that didn't mean to unplug the power cords too because the friggin' electricity doesn't go through the air! When he went wireless, he REALLY went WIRELESS!"
I went home with another headache....
Sunday, October 03, 2004
When you live in a true "banana republic", there are always the sublime moments that make you turn around and wonder is someone is playing a colossal joke on you. Thats what seems to happen every time I make a trip to New Orleans, even if only for an afternoon. Today was no different.
We decided to head down to the French Quarter after noon to eat a late lunch and maybe walk around the Quarter for a bit. It's only a 45 minute drive from where we live, so even leaving at noon meant we would get there by 1 PM at the latest. And since we ate pancakes for breakfast, neither of us were what could be called ravenous.
We parked on Dumaine Street near Chartres and walked over to Mona Lisa's Restautant on Royal Street. And since it was after the usual lucnh rush hour, we figured we'd be the only people eating there.
Wrong.
We walked into the restaurant; the tall lanky waiter took a quick look and said "seat your self anywhere", so we headed to the left where we heard people talking. There were three other parties seated. One table held five; three men and two women, all very loud. They were arguing in a joking manner about some tirasamu one of the women was eating. The second occupied table was a 20-something couple; he was also loud, but in a northern-US sort of way, like he came from New York or something. She looked totally bored with him and the whole experience; she was sitting there text messaging on her cell phone the entire time he was yapping on and on about only working 30 hours a week come January.
The oddest table by far was occupied by a smallish mousey looking woman in her mid to late 20's. She was almost waifish, blonde haired, and very anemic looking. At first I though she was crying, because she was hunched over the table almost as if in pain. We were seated, the waiter took our drink & appetizer order, and jetted off. I looked up towards the Waif Customer; just in time to see a tiny brown animal head pop up in the woman's lap.
A friggin' chihuahua. A damned fufudog friggin' chihuahua. Looking like something straight out of that "Legally Blonde" movie. So the entire meal, I watched the Waif Customer cradle that chihuahua, croon sweet little words of comfort to it, and hand feed it while the poor animal shook and shivered.
And then, just as we were paying our tab, I watched her stuff the poor little chihuahua into a pink little fufudog carrier purse, and march out of the restaurant into the bright October fall afternoon.
We decided to head down to the French Quarter after noon to eat a late lunch and maybe walk around the Quarter for a bit. It's only a 45 minute drive from where we live, so even leaving at noon meant we would get there by 1 PM at the latest. And since we ate pancakes for breakfast, neither of us were what could be called ravenous.
We parked on Dumaine Street near Chartres and walked over to Mona Lisa's Restautant on Royal Street. And since it was after the usual lucnh rush hour, we figured we'd be the only people eating there.
Wrong.
We walked into the restaurant; the tall lanky waiter took a quick look and said "seat your self anywhere", so we headed to the left where we heard people talking. There were three other parties seated. One table held five; three men and two women, all very loud. They were arguing in a joking manner about some tirasamu one of the women was eating. The second occupied table was a 20-something couple; he was also loud, but in a northern-US sort of way, like he came from New York or something. She looked totally bored with him and the whole experience; she was sitting there text messaging on her cell phone the entire time he was yapping on and on about only working 30 hours a week come January.
The oddest table by far was occupied by a smallish mousey looking woman in her mid to late 20's. She was almost waifish, blonde haired, and very anemic looking. At first I though she was crying, because she was hunched over the table almost as if in pain. We were seated, the waiter took our drink & appetizer order, and jetted off. I looked up towards the Waif Customer; just in time to see a tiny brown animal head pop up in the woman's lap.
A friggin' chihuahua. A damned fufudog friggin' chihuahua. Looking like something straight out of that "Legally Blonde" movie. So the entire meal, I watched the Waif Customer cradle that chihuahua, croon sweet little words of comfort to it, and hand feed it while the poor animal shook and shivered.
And then, just as we were paying our tab, I watched her stuff the poor little chihuahua into a pink little fufudog carrier purse, and march out of the restaurant into the bright October fall afternoon.
Tuesday, September 28, 2004
I find it hard to believe that in this day and age when computers are so pervasive in everyday life, that educated adults with college degrees can be so damned IGNORANT.
I am a supervisor; that means I am supposed to handle matters that each of the 6 employees under me feel need my attention.
However, I spend the first two hours of each of my work days running from office to office "fixing" things that I wouldn't even call computer problems but are literally crises to the computer users around me.
Examples: (These are REAL instances)
Problem: "I can't log into the network"
My Solution: "Plug in the damned cable that CONNECTS you to the network and THEN try logging in!"
Problem: " I can't access the mainframe database; my computer says I'm working in disconnect mode"
My Solution: " See that little box in the lower right hand corner of your computer screen? The one that when you went through training to use this program you were told to click on and make sure it said office mode when you needed to be connected? The one that says you're in disconnect mode right now? The one that you should now click on to change? Do it! "
Problem : " I can't print anything!"
My Solution : "Try clicking the print button. It usually works when you click on it."
Problem : "I'm getting this weird message that says I should switch to another power source before my battery on the laptop dies and I lose all my work."
My Solution: " Find the long cord in the bag that you get the laptop out of every morning. Plug one end into that slot in the back of the laptop, and the other end into that electrical socket in the wall. Keep your fingers crossed, but usually that solves the problem."
Problem: "Help! I'm getting this warning message that I don't understand!"
My Solution : "Calm down. See that word 'password' next to that white box ? It means you have to type in that secret word you have used every morning for the last five years to log in. Try it; you'll like it."
Problem : "There's something wrong with the computer. The screen won't come on!"
My Solution: " There's a button on the front of the case. Push it; that's called the power switch."
Problem: " I tried to log into the network this morning because I have to send out the annual status report in the next thirty minutes but I got a message saying because I didn't renew my authorization code to log in, I'm blocked. I forgot to tell you I've been getting a reminder every day for the last 60 days to request the network administrator to renew my code. How soon can you get it fixed because I forgot to back the report up, and the only place I have it stored is in the blocked program."
My Solution: " It will be two days before you get the authorization code, just like it has been every year for the last five years that you have forgotten to get your code re-authorized. "
I have a headache.....
I am a supervisor; that means I am supposed to handle matters that each of the 6 employees under me feel need my attention.
However, I spend the first two hours of each of my work days running from office to office "fixing" things that I wouldn't even call computer problems but are literally crises to the computer users around me.
Examples: (These are REAL instances)
Problem: "I can't log into the network"
My Solution: "Plug in the damned cable that CONNECTS you to the network and THEN try logging in!"
Problem: " I can't access the mainframe database; my computer says I'm working in disconnect mode"
My Solution: " See that little box in the lower right hand corner of your computer screen? The one that when you went through training to use this program you were told to click on and make sure it said office mode when you needed to be connected? The one that says you're in disconnect mode right now? The one that you should now click on to change? Do it! "
Problem : " I can't print anything!"
My Solution : "Try clicking the print button. It usually works when you click on it."
Problem : "I'm getting this weird message that says I should switch to another power source before my battery on the laptop dies and I lose all my work."
My Solution: " Find the long cord in the bag that you get the laptop out of every morning. Plug one end into that slot in the back of the laptop, and the other end into that electrical socket in the wall. Keep your fingers crossed, but usually that solves the problem."
Problem: "Help! I'm getting this warning message that I don't understand!"
My Solution : "Calm down. See that word 'password' next to that white box ? It means you have to type in that secret word you have used every morning for the last five years to log in. Try it; you'll like it."
Problem : "There's something wrong with the computer. The screen won't come on!"
My Solution: " There's a button on the front of the case. Push it; that's called the power switch."
Problem: " I tried to log into the network this morning because I have to send out the annual status report in the next thirty minutes but I got a message saying because I didn't renew my authorization code to log in, I'm blocked. I forgot to tell you I've been getting a reminder every day for the last 60 days to request the network administrator to renew my code. How soon can you get it fixed because I forgot to back the report up, and the only place I have it stored is in the blocked program."
My Solution: " It will be two days before you get the authorization code, just like it has been every year for the last five years that you have forgotten to get your code re-authorized. "
I have a headache.....
Monday, September 27, 2004
The weekend past was finally something close to acceptable as far as temperatures go. You would think that by the end of September, things would begin to cool down somewhat. But not here... not in Louisiana. It's still almost oppressively hot. Saturday was in the mid-90's; we found out when we went to the flea market in Prairieville to meet a friend who was trying his hand at working a booth there selling silver jewelry.
We met Pancho there around 10 AM. He had told us his booth was on the backside of the flea market, behind the concession stands. The flea market is a long single story series of booths that stretch almost a half mile in length facing Airline Highway. The booths are set so that there is an aisle on the highway side, and when you get to the end, you swing around and there is a similar aisle on the backside. It is MUCH cooler on the side facing the highway for some reason. So, naturally, by the time we found Pancho, we were both drenched in sweat.
He had been set up there for about three hours, and had yet to make his first sale. In talking to some of the other vendors who sell there more regulary than him, Pancho was told by them that sales on saturdays when LSU plays football at home makes for very slow sales days. It seemed that the belief was holding true for this weekend.
We visited with him for a while; not too long because it was really quite warm. During the half hour or so we were there, he had a few browsers look at some of the silver on his tables. But no one bought a thing.
We met Pancho there around 10 AM. He had told us his booth was on the backside of the flea market, behind the concession stands. The flea market is a long single story series of booths that stretch almost a half mile in length facing Airline Highway. The booths are set so that there is an aisle on the highway side, and when you get to the end, you swing around and there is a similar aisle on the backside. It is MUCH cooler on the side facing the highway for some reason. So, naturally, by the time we found Pancho, we were both drenched in sweat.
He had been set up there for about three hours, and had yet to make his first sale. In talking to some of the other vendors who sell there more regulary than him, Pancho was told by them that sales on saturdays when LSU plays football at home makes for very slow sales days. It seemed that the belief was holding true for this weekend.
We visited with him for a while; not too long because it was really quite warm. During the half hour or so we were there, he had a few browsers look at some of the silver on his tables. But no one bought a thing.
Monday, September 20, 2004
One more day has clicked off my calendar at work.
I'm under 500 days now until I will be able to walk away from that place that I've given over 25 years of my life to in exchange for a paycheck slightly about poverty level for a large portion of that.
The day started off actually cooler than it has been. It wasn't blazingly hot like it has been for so long this year. Since Hurricane Ivan roared through the Gulf neighborhood last week, the muggy humidity seems to have gone with and headed north. I do feel sorry for those poor souls in the Florida panhandle who have lost just about everything they own.
Anyway, I got in the car around 6:45 AM. Gotta beat those damned "kid shuttles" before they tie up traffic for miles around so "little precious" can make it to another day where their mushy little brains are assailed with something resembling teaching.
But speaking of tying up traffic; it is now taking me a full 30 minutes to drive the 5 miles from my house heading west on LA 42 to US 61 near the Ascension/EBR Parish line. And from THERE, I get to join the slow parade of vehicles carrying the human cargo to work in the greater Baton Rouge area. If I'm lucky, I can make it to work around 7:45 AM, a full hour after I pull out of my driveway, and in that time, I will have driven only 25 laborious miles!
It's all so depressing....
I'm under 500 days now until I will be able to walk away from that place that I've given over 25 years of my life to in exchange for a paycheck slightly about poverty level for a large portion of that.
The day started off actually cooler than it has been. It wasn't blazingly hot like it has been for so long this year. Since Hurricane Ivan roared through the Gulf neighborhood last week, the muggy humidity seems to have gone with and headed north. I do feel sorry for those poor souls in the Florida panhandle who have lost just about everything they own.
Anyway, I got in the car around 6:45 AM. Gotta beat those damned "kid shuttles" before they tie up traffic for miles around so "little precious" can make it to another day where their mushy little brains are assailed with something resembling teaching.
But speaking of tying up traffic; it is now taking me a full 30 minutes to drive the 5 miles from my house heading west on LA 42 to US 61 near the Ascension/EBR Parish line. And from THERE, I get to join the slow parade of vehicles carrying the human cargo to work in the greater Baton Rouge area. If I'm lucky, I can make it to work around 7:45 AM, a full hour after I pull out of my driveway, and in that time, I will have driven only 25 laborious miles!
It's all so depressing....
Monday, July 26, 2004
Just returned from a nightmarish trip to Louisville, KY.
The reasons it was so horrible were myriad, but mostly it was because I had applied for a promotion that I stupidly thought I was in the serious running for....
The problem is that the "powers that be" apparently have no real intent of promoting based on merit, and therefore I did not get the promotion.
The worst part was that I was sent on this trip for a work related conference, and the position I had applied for was filled while I was literally in the air on the way to Kentucky; all of my co-workers who attended this conference with me found out through the grapevine before I did, and I was never officially told.
But, there was incredibly Fellini-esque moment in this trip that did shine through, and was somehow rewarding in its own way.
On the Tuesday of the conference, five of us piled into a car and went in search of a non-conference related meal. Since we were staying at a downtown hotel, and none of us had ever been to Indiana, we figured that we could do some exploring, that the quickest meal would be found across the Ohio River in New Albany, and pointed the car in that direction. But a few minutes of riding around on the other side of the bridge made us realize we would be better off back in Louisville, and the car on its own returned us to Kentucky.
We kept going south from the river on the interstate until we found ourselves in the vicinity of the Louisville airport. Preferring not to continue too far past there, we exited at the fairgrounds exit, and ventured into the neighborhoods there. Now mind you, none of us had any idea where we were, or where we were going, but somehow that all made it seem just right.
"Why don't we try V's?" asked the driver as we slid past a smallish red brick building on the side of the road. And before there was any real consensus in the group, the car had made a turn and we were in the parking lot.
The five of us unloaded from the car; V's looked totally deserted, but then again it WAS almost 2 PM...
It was a tiny restaurant that had definitely seen better days as far as architecture went. The place was old OLD 1950's style diner furniture. Red was the predominate color, and funky was the definitive adjective that came to mind.
But.... V himself was there to greet us. Sitting regally in a center booth directly in the front of the entrance itself.
And...he literally took up the entire booth. This was no small man; not even close. He was HUGE. Jabba the Hutt huge...if you get my drift. But friendly... He greeted us warmly, and a waiter appeared.
We were taken to our table. The waiter took our drink & appetizer orders. Only after we were seated did we realize that cuddled up against Jabba was a rather diminutive woman with a lacquered hairdo that probably was an old wig she had pulled out of the ventilation system after a customer surrendered their hairpiece to it rather than admit they had leaned too close to it and the hairpiece had gotten sucked into it and was caught. Jabba's Consort had blueish long Lee Press-on nails that she kept clicking on the railing is some secret code that was obviously being relayed to the servant Ewok staff slaving in the kitchen. Whatever the code was, it was working...the Ewoks banged pots & pans but kept working without taking control of the place.
Then it got quiet again; after all, we were the only customers in the place. After a few minutes of idle conversation, one of our group got up to play the jukebox.
"It's not working". Jabba gestured with a sweep of his appendage that on a normal sized person would have been an arm. The would-be-jukie ducked back to the booth; we think he was afraid he was now on the Jabba "hit list".
We didn't have to wait too long; the food appeared. The pizza & other assorted sundry menu items we had ordered were Jabba sized ( it seems most of the food on the menu had that air...everything seemed to be capable of feeding large starving masses fleeing from the hinterlands). Maybe we had discovered the Kentucky cornucopia and were destined for greatness???
But just then...Fellini reached from the heavens himself and touched the five Mere Mortals who had ventured into the Kentucky afternoon, arrived to sit amongst the red furnishings, and dine in the presence of Jabba himself.
To the rear of the restaurant, in direct opposition to the entrance, and in the immediate vicinity of the defunct jukebox, a bright light suddenly appeared in the darkness floating about six feet in the air. There appeared a shadow behind the light... it was a tall young thinnish man in lederhosen, and wearing a very absurdly exagerated tall brown foam ten gallon cowboy hat, the likes of which one sees being worn by the faithful at sporting events.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY". This was bellowed out in a very thick eastern European accent by the lederhosen foam hat; you know...the one manning the camera ( yes; it was a camcorder).
The five Mere Mortals stopped chewing their late lunch in amazement. The Lederhosen Cowboy was a showstopper by himself, but the spectacle at the front door coming in off the street was even more astounding.
Clowns.
But not just any clowns.
First came Amazon Clown; she was TALL ( and wearing flats too!). She was barreling in and bellowing forth through the door singing a version of "Happy Birthday" in a very heavy accent that indicated that she had some degree of relationship to Lederhosen Cowboy. She wore a polka dotted clown top that flared wildly at her hips ( as if they weren't flared enough...). And there were the obligatory red clown shoes, along with a red nose hiding her real nose.
Right behind her, though, came the Sight of Sights.
For a lot of people, clowns are creatures that inhabit their nightmares when sleep finaly overtakes them. Amazon ones are frightening; there is no doubt.
Until this very afternoon however, it had never entered my mind that there could be a species of clown that could make a grown man's bowels clutch and convulse in total fear. And not just from all the grease in the Jabba Food that was being ingested to the tune of the Ewok-frightening clicking nails.
Yet here that species appeared in the door in all of its full horror... Pregnant Clown in Skin Tight Sweat Pant Shorts. In white face no less. And bare un-panty hose clothed legs...with Doc Martens on.
" If she goes into labor, would it be like one of those little clown cars? Would clown baby after clown baby keep popping out of her?" whispered the driver of the Mere Mortals. A swift kick under the table aimed at the driver's ankle by me failed to connect; soft drink spewed from four of the five Mere Mortals nostrils.
In the kitchen, a loud clamor of pots & pans confirmed the Ewoks had somehow sensed the arrival of the Clown Cadre, and all that it implied. They were in absolute terror!
"How DARE they risk everyone's lives by laughing in the presence of Jabba & the Consort?" I thought. "Don't they realize how dangerous this is? "
I sensed the need to flee to the safety of the car; maybe we could all outrun the clowns before Jabba could bellow his command to the Clowns to terminate our existence? I doubted we'd make it; the Consort would click out her nail code to the Ewoks who would storm from the kitchen to filet us for the next customers' meals.
"Would you like anything else?" I hadn't noticed the waiter appear at my side; the Clowns were weaving their birthday spell on all around. Their wailing lilt was mind numbing; Jabba was rumbling jellylike with laughter. Gifts had been placed in his gigantic mitts, and he was shredding the gift wrapping while goading the Clowns to keep singing and dancing under the glare of the Lederhosen Cowboy's camcorder.
"Check...please". I croaked it out. The Consort snapped her head in the direction of the Mortals. The nail clicking code to the Ewoks paused. The atmosphere emanating from the kitchen became palpably tense.
My request to the waiter sounded like a plea, and was not very convincing. Even the Driver became aware of the impending deathblow the Consort was capable of delivering.
The Waiter tensed; he slid a glance towards the Consort. She smiled malevolently, and began to click a slow dirgelike staccato. The Ewoks grew silent.
"Pay now". He had leaned over and softly stated it. "It's all she wishes for you to do. Credit or cash?"
The Mortals hastily searched for enough coinage to cover the bill. In the background the nails clicked out their deadly code.
"Thank you. Please come again." The Waiter grinned and leaned forward again. "You have paid. Exit now". This he whispered.
As if to accentuate the seriousness of his words, the clicking stopped.
Jabba exhaled.
The Mere Mortals slowly moved towards the door; they could see the vehicle that would take them back to reality. It beckoned.
As they reached the door, the clicking of the Consort started again . Like a drum beat, it began a roll, and began to go faster. And faster. The Ewoks began murmuring. The Clowns watched the Mortals; the Pregnant Clown smiled.
She waved. "Have a nice day", she said. The Mortals were assailed with the terrible image of the smile and the memory of her words. The mental scarring would last a lifetime.
The car full of Mortals fled.
The reasons it was so horrible were myriad, but mostly it was because I had applied for a promotion that I stupidly thought I was in the serious running for....
The problem is that the "powers that be" apparently have no real intent of promoting based on merit, and therefore I did not get the promotion.
The worst part was that I was sent on this trip for a work related conference, and the position I had applied for was filled while I was literally in the air on the way to Kentucky; all of my co-workers who attended this conference with me found out through the grapevine before I did, and I was never officially told.
But, there was incredibly Fellini-esque moment in this trip that did shine through, and was somehow rewarding in its own way.
On the Tuesday of the conference, five of us piled into a car and went in search of a non-conference related meal. Since we were staying at a downtown hotel, and none of us had ever been to Indiana, we figured that we could do some exploring, that the quickest meal would be found across the Ohio River in New Albany, and pointed the car in that direction. But a few minutes of riding around on the other side of the bridge made us realize we would be better off back in Louisville, and the car on its own returned us to Kentucky.
We kept going south from the river on the interstate until we found ourselves in the vicinity of the Louisville airport. Preferring not to continue too far past there, we exited at the fairgrounds exit, and ventured into the neighborhoods there. Now mind you, none of us had any idea where we were, or where we were going, but somehow that all made it seem just right.
"Why don't we try V's?" asked the driver as we slid past a smallish red brick building on the side of the road. And before there was any real consensus in the group, the car had made a turn and we were in the parking lot.
The five of us unloaded from the car; V's looked totally deserted, but then again it WAS almost 2 PM...
It was a tiny restaurant that had definitely seen better days as far as architecture went. The place was old OLD 1950's style diner furniture. Red was the predominate color, and funky was the definitive adjective that came to mind.
But.... V himself was there to greet us. Sitting regally in a center booth directly in the front of the entrance itself.
And...he literally took up the entire booth. This was no small man; not even close. He was HUGE. Jabba the Hutt huge...if you get my drift. But friendly... He greeted us warmly, and a waiter appeared.
We were taken to our table. The waiter took our drink & appetizer orders. Only after we were seated did we realize that cuddled up against Jabba was a rather diminutive woman with a lacquered hairdo that probably was an old wig she had pulled out of the ventilation system after a customer surrendered their hairpiece to it rather than admit they had leaned too close to it and the hairpiece had gotten sucked into it and was caught. Jabba's Consort had blueish long Lee Press-on nails that she kept clicking on the railing is some secret code that was obviously being relayed to the servant Ewok staff slaving in the kitchen. Whatever the code was, it was working...the Ewoks banged pots & pans but kept working without taking control of the place.
Then it got quiet again; after all, we were the only customers in the place. After a few minutes of idle conversation, one of our group got up to play the jukebox.
"It's not working". Jabba gestured with a sweep of his appendage that on a normal sized person would have been an arm. The would-be-jukie ducked back to the booth; we think he was afraid he was now on the Jabba "hit list".
We didn't have to wait too long; the food appeared. The pizza & other assorted sundry menu items we had ordered were Jabba sized ( it seems most of the food on the menu had that air...everything seemed to be capable of feeding large starving masses fleeing from the hinterlands). Maybe we had discovered the Kentucky cornucopia and were destined for greatness???
But just then...Fellini reached from the heavens himself and touched the five Mere Mortals who had ventured into the Kentucky afternoon, arrived to sit amongst the red furnishings, and dine in the presence of Jabba himself.
To the rear of the restaurant, in direct opposition to the entrance, and in the immediate vicinity of the defunct jukebox, a bright light suddenly appeared in the darkness floating about six feet in the air. There appeared a shadow behind the light... it was a tall young thinnish man in lederhosen, and wearing a very absurdly exagerated tall brown foam ten gallon cowboy hat, the likes of which one sees being worn by the faithful at sporting events.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY". This was bellowed out in a very thick eastern European accent by the lederhosen foam hat; you know...the one manning the camera ( yes; it was a camcorder).
The five Mere Mortals stopped chewing their late lunch in amazement. The Lederhosen Cowboy was a showstopper by himself, but the spectacle at the front door coming in off the street was even more astounding.
Clowns.
But not just any clowns.
First came Amazon Clown; she was TALL ( and wearing flats too!). She was barreling in and bellowing forth through the door singing a version of "Happy Birthday" in a very heavy accent that indicated that she had some degree of relationship to Lederhosen Cowboy. She wore a polka dotted clown top that flared wildly at her hips ( as if they weren't flared enough...). And there were the obligatory red clown shoes, along with a red nose hiding her real nose.
Right behind her, though, came the Sight of Sights.
For a lot of people, clowns are creatures that inhabit their nightmares when sleep finaly overtakes them. Amazon ones are frightening; there is no doubt.
Until this very afternoon however, it had never entered my mind that there could be a species of clown that could make a grown man's bowels clutch and convulse in total fear. And not just from all the grease in the Jabba Food that was being ingested to the tune of the Ewok-frightening clicking nails.
Yet here that species appeared in the door in all of its full horror... Pregnant Clown in Skin Tight Sweat Pant Shorts. In white face no less. And bare un-panty hose clothed legs...with Doc Martens on.
" If she goes into labor, would it be like one of those little clown cars? Would clown baby after clown baby keep popping out of her?" whispered the driver of the Mere Mortals. A swift kick under the table aimed at the driver's ankle by me failed to connect; soft drink spewed from four of the five Mere Mortals nostrils.
In the kitchen, a loud clamor of pots & pans confirmed the Ewoks had somehow sensed the arrival of the Clown Cadre, and all that it implied. They were in absolute terror!
"How DARE they risk everyone's lives by laughing in the presence of Jabba & the Consort?" I thought. "Don't they realize how dangerous this is? "
I sensed the need to flee to the safety of the car; maybe we could all outrun the clowns before Jabba could bellow his command to the Clowns to terminate our existence? I doubted we'd make it; the Consort would click out her nail code to the Ewoks who would storm from the kitchen to filet us for the next customers' meals.
"Would you like anything else?" I hadn't noticed the waiter appear at my side; the Clowns were weaving their birthday spell on all around. Their wailing lilt was mind numbing; Jabba was rumbling jellylike with laughter. Gifts had been placed in his gigantic mitts, and he was shredding the gift wrapping while goading the Clowns to keep singing and dancing under the glare of the Lederhosen Cowboy's camcorder.
"Check...please". I croaked it out. The Consort snapped her head in the direction of the Mortals. The nail clicking code to the Ewoks paused. The atmosphere emanating from the kitchen became palpably tense.
My request to the waiter sounded like a plea, and was not very convincing. Even the Driver became aware of the impending deathblow the Consort was capable of delivering.
The Waiter tensed; he slid a glance towards the Consort. She smiled malevolently, and began to click a slow dirgelike staccato. The Ewoks grew silent.
"Pay now". He had leaned over and softly stated it. "It's all she wishes for you to do. Credit or cash?"
The Mortals hastily searched for enough coinage to cover the bill. In the background the nails clicked out their deadly code.
"Thank you. Please come again." The Waiter grinned and leaned forward again. "You have paid. Exit now". This he whispered.
As if to accentuate the seriousness of his words, the clicking stopped.
Jabba exhaled.
The Mere Mortals slowly moved towards the door; they could see the vehicle that would take them back to reality. It beckoned.
As they reached the door, the clicking of the Consort started again . Like a drum beat, it began a roll, and began to go faster. And faster. The Ewoks began murmuring. The Clowns watched the Mortals; the Pregnant Clown smiled.
She waved. "Have a nice day", she said. The Mortals were assailed with the terrible image of the smile and the memory of her words. The mental scarring would last a lifetime.
The car full of Mortals fled.
Monday, April 26, 2004
This is embarrassing...nothing to put in here but in six month intervals.
At least we went to Festival International this past weekend in Lafayette (Louisiana). Lots of people in the streets; very good food, and some great musical acts from all over the world.
We went Friday night and checked into the hotel. Then we headed downtown; Savvy, Victor, Hanley & myself. We met up with Michelle (my sister...) and her date, Marcel. The bands were good, the weather was nice. After the festival shut down around midnight, we went bar hopping up & down Jefferson Street.
Lafayette has done a lot as far as developing a nightlife; Baton Rouge needs to learn from there.
At least we went to Festival International this past weekend in Lafayette (Louisiana). Lots of people in the streets; very good food, and some great musical acts from all over the world.
We went Friday night and checked into the hotel. Then we headed downtown; Savvy, Victor, Hanley & myself. We met up with Michelle (my sister...) and her date, Marcel. The bands were good, the weather was nice. After the festival shut down around midnight, we went bar hopping up & down Jefferson Street.
Lafayette has done a lot as far as developing a nightlife; Baton Rouge needs to learn from there.