Zeypher's wanderings

Election Fraud is as easy as HAVA.

2006-10-26T21:50:56Z

Dateline: Boulder, home, watching snow melt

Here's something on a topic you might have heard me mutter under my breath about before... voting systems.


'It's Not the People Who Vote that Count; It's the People Who Count the Votes'
     - Josef Stalin

Given the push in recent years toward DRE (Direct-Recording Electronic) voting systems, even to the point of all but requiring them with the horribly misnamed HAVA (Help America Vote Act) (right up there with the USAPATRIOT acts in terms of orwellian doublespeak), untraceable election fraud is an issue we all should be aware of.

Published yesterday, this guide will give you a good start into understanding why voting with electronic systems is often a bad idea, and voting systems without paper trails are as good as already stolen.

How to Steal an Election

On election day, DEMAND a paper ballot. And if your jurisdiction does not allow for such things, perhaps you should consider where your vote is really going to go, and how important it is to you?

No voting system is perfect... but at least in a paper system, the failures are human. And traceable. And probably nowhere near as one-sided.

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And people ask, why are you so cynical?

2006-08-15T15:22:45Z

Dateline: Phoenix, AZ, hotel room

Yeah, it's all about our 'safety', no ulterior motives here:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/14320452/

Highlights:

Hair-gel terrorists" posed no risk last week.

An anonymous "senior British official knowledgeable about the [hair-gel bombers]" told NBC that there was no threat to airplanes last week, that the terrorists had been under surveillance for over a year, and that UK government didn't plan on arresting these guys until they'd surveilled them a while longer, but moved when they did because of US pressure. In other words, the US government told the UK security forces "we want headlines this week".

In contrast to previous reports, the official suggested an attack was not imminent, saying the suspects had not yet purchased any airline tickets. In fact, some did not even have passports...

The official shed light on other aspects of the case, saying that while the investigation into the bombing plot began "months ago," some suspects were known to the security services even before the London subway bombings last year.

Am I glad that people like this are brought to justice as the criminals they are? YES! Did anyone need their civil rights erroded by removal of due process to do it? NO! Do I believe the current US goverment cares more about managing PR value than actually keeping anyone safe? Signs point to yes.

And that is very sad. It deserves to change.

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Travel day from hell, and it ain't over.

2006-07-19T09:13:40Z

Dateline: New York, La Guardia Airport, on the floor near Air Canada ticketing

Wow. I thought about this when I was booking... "don't connect through La Guardia, you might get stuck there". Damn I hate those kind of premonitions. Especially when I don't listen to them, and they invariably come true.

Got to DIA, check in, and the kiosk has some notice about possible ATC delays into LGA. Sigh. Oh well, at least it's leaving, I'll be fine. (Misstep #1)

Get on the plane, have a pleasant, if forgettable 2.5 hours flight to somewhere over western New York state. Then the circling. Bad weather in NYC. Oh yeah, and the power failed at La Guardia for several hours earlier, so they're still clearing that backlog. Crap.

Circle for 45 minutes, before pilot comes on, and announces that La Guardia has placed a ground stop (no traffic in or out) and we're diverting to Hartford, Connecticut. Damnit.

Land in CT. Pilot says we're just stopping to refuel, 30 minutes max, and we'll be back in the air and on to LGA. Suspect, but hope springs. Park on the tarmac... we won't be getting a gate, besides, no need.

Pilot comes on 30 minutes later, saying the plane has been refueled, but the cockpit window was leaking when they landed, and they needed an maintinance check. But United doesn't fly to Hartford, CT... so no tech. They had to call up Delta and borrow one, and he'll be over 'shortly'. Fuck.

Still sitting on tarmac, 30 mintutes *later*, when maint tech comes, sprays WD-40 on the window for five minutes, spends 15 minutes filling out paperwork, and boom, we're ready to go. Except that now, *another* huge thuderstorm has moved in. New ground stop. The one hour the weather was clear in LGA, we were sitting on our thumbs 120 miles away.

The pilot says we've been given an update time 45 minutes from now, and we'll update then... in the meantime, sit back, relax, and enjoy this complementary movie. Bite me.

Every 30-45 minutes, "we're been denied permission for now, but were given an update window 45 minutes from now." Sing me another one Sam.

About 11:30 PM (4.5 hours after we were to have landed in LGA), we *finally* pull into a gate. By now, the passengers are furious, the crew is trying not to get maimed, and I've weasled my second cup of 'coffee' from the purser (The contents of this 'coffee' might have been noted to closely resemble a decent Cabernet from the first class liquor closet. *Always* make nice with the crew.) Apparently, United aircraft keep a supply of granola bars in case of emergency... no idea if all airlines do... but they had over 300 of them, hidden someplace in the front closet. This was the only thing they had to offer the majority of the passengers.

We're all told that we can get off if we want to make our own travel arrangements to LGA, but our luggage is not being unloaded, and if we get off, we can't get back on. And if the flight leaves, it will leave with no notice... just close doors, buckle up, and off we'd fly. (HA!) Peddlers Of Lies and Duplicitious Hopes!

45 minutes later, alert passengers note that the bags are being unloaded. The crew knows nothing, like Col. Klink. But 30 minutes after that, just before a minor mutiny takes place in the front of the plane, the flight is officially canceled. This is my surprised face. Somewhere around the second 'coffee', I'd confirmed that the flight I was supposed to be on to Ottawa had left, and rebooked myself for 8:00 AM b~~the next~~ this morning... and called to see if there were any rental cars to provide a contingency plan. None for one-way trips. Ah. Fucky-fuck-fuck-fuckstick.

So we're told busses have been summoned, and if we go to the baggage claim area, further direction will be given. Lesson for the day kids, always get your cash in advance, and your information right now.

At the baggage claim area there is exactly *one* United rep, a baggage claim handler, who has now been thrown into the fourth circle of hell. No one is happy, but cranky old people and New Yorkers are each insufferable when slighted...and many of the PAX were overachieving in both categories. The CT state troopers started showing up, I kid you not, and threatened some of the older ones with disorderly conduct arrests on the spot.

I pry, evesdrop, and ingratiate to the best of my ability, and find out a bit in advance (there's quite a gossip chain going on, and I'm a supplier... people normally encapsulated in their own bubbles form ad-hoc social nets quicky in times of group stress... kind of freaky to watch) that they have *one* bus coming. 55 PAX capacity, out of 150+ from our full 757-200. Yay. Apparently, the loading policy will resemble that of the Titanic lifeboats. Elderly, and women with children first. No other considerations... over 80, then over 70, then all over 60, etc. Yup... well, I'm screwed sideways.

So, I make a second stab, and call rental car reservations. I get a supervisor, and get a rental for one day, making a point not to specify that the return location will be 125 miles from the origin location. A little chit-chat with the late night rep, and a quick check of the all-knowing databrain... she finds a car that has been returned that evening, but not cleaned, and says she can get it set up for me immediately. Full size? Definitely sir. GPS? Yeah, no problem sir. Oh, the small victories.

Since I've made some compatriots in the past hours of close quarters and shared trauma, I extend the invitation to three others to share my ride in exchange for defraying some of the expenses. Three takers, in nothing flat. It's now 1:30 AM

The bus, which arrived 45 minutes before, but was held back until a state trooper escort could be formed (again, kid you not) to prevent a riot during boarding, pulls up. Scene from Titanic ensuses, complete with tearful family separations and fruitless yelling. Only one rock was thrown.

So our merry foursome (a professional female cyclist (Team Lipton, IIRC), a hippy turned corporate raider visiting his portugese girlfriend in NYC, and a marketing/PR guy specalizing in hispanic media... and moi) get in our GPS equppied minivan (The Cadallac of minivans, in point of fact), and head out down the road. Two hours and few rain squalls later, here I am in LaGuardia. Even made a small profit on the rental car. Thank god this is a 24 hour city... there are attendants at the rental car center, there is coffee, and fresh pastries. Even if I can't do much related to airlines.

So here I sit, typing into a WiFi connection that I will see United billed for (the useless folks at their operations and customer service centers did *nothing* during the dozens of opportunities they had to mitigate disaster), trying not to think about how I'll function a the conference today without any sleep.

But really, who knows, that presumes that I even get there.

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Mild interest in climatic research

2006-06-14T18:53:57Z

Dateline: Boulder, home, floor

I am keeping as close as humanly possible to anything with the ability to absorb heat. It just passed the 100 degree mark here. Not bad, considering the record temp for the day was set at 87 degrees (oddly in 1987). Take that, record heat! Thirteen degrees! Also, 4% humidity. I think I'll dessicate some fruit by leaving it out on the counter.

Currently, in Phoenix, AZ (an oven of a city), it is 95 degrees and 10% humidity. We've officially out-deserted the desert.

Sure am glad that the first half of June has had the hottest average temps on record for the city. Ever. And that average temps have been rising, and snowfall frequency dropping on a rolling average for the past 15 years.

Nope, climate's not changing. No sir.

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Alive!

2006-06-07T23:22:45Z

Dateline: Boulder, home, office

I know I've updated... hmmn.. none in the past six months, and once in the past year total. But life changes, and so do I. Since my updates cease about the time Nick moved in, I have to assume there's some correlation there. Don't have to look nearly as far for an ear, real or virtual, to talk to. Also, my life has been *much* lower stress since I took the new job. It's a basic truth that I usually only undertake highly optional activities if there's an itch to scratch... I guess I've been less itchy?

Eh... that doesn't sound nearly as good as it is.

In other news, the cable drop (from the telephone pole to the house) fell to the ground today. I've never wanted nor had cable in the three and a half years I've lived here, so shortly after I bought the place, I disconnected the wire from inside the house and coiled the extra on the drop mount outside.

Why it should fall, or why today should be the day it does, only the gods (and a limited selection of people) know. But, on the upside, I called Comcast to report a downed cable, and they moved with near lightning speed. They said they'd be here around 1 PM tomorrow. 20 hour turnaround from a cable company! I dare anyone to get installation service from them that quickly!

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Stupid internet meme

2005-12-14T07:57:26Z

---{100 Little Things You Didn't Know About Me}---

1. Full Name: Matthew James Snelham
2. Nicknames: At various times; El Doctor, Baclava, El Jefe, Oregano Kid (Don't ask), and Sir Snel.
3. Birthday: 05/12/1979
4. Place of Birth: North Bay Area, CA
5. Zodiac Sign: Taurus. Just, Taurus. Shocking.
6. Male or Female: Male
7. Grade: None.
8. School: The world is my classroom.
9. Occupation: High-powered travelling asshole.
10. Residence: Boulder, CO
11. Screen Name: COZeypher

__Your Appearance___

12. Hair Color: Dirty Blonde
13. Hair Length: Manly-short.
14. Eye color: Blue
15. Best Feature: My roman nose. Or my expressive eyebrows. Yeah...
16. Height: 6’4"
17. Braces?: Never had 'em.
18. Glasses?: Oh yeah.
19. Piercing: No new holes.
20. Tattoos: Nope.
21. Righty or Lefty: Right handed, left brained.

___Your 'Firsts'___

22. First best friend: James
23. First Award: But there have been so many!
24. First Sport You Joined: Eh, soccer, I guess.
25. First pet: Goldfish.
26. First Real Vacation: Hawaii for Christmas when I was 5.
27. First Concert: Symphony in San Jose when I was 6.
28. First Love: Paul. Sigh.

___ Favorites___

29. Movie: Wonder Boys, Real Genius (Mmmn... Val Kilmer), I Heart Huckabees, Noises Off, Almost Famous, Groundhog Day.
30. TV Show: Northern Exposure, for nostalgia.
31. Colors: Blue.
32. Rapper: Wha?
33. Band: Barenaked Ladies, Dave Matthews, Orbital...
34. Song Right Now: So mood based that it's silly to try and pin down.
35. Friend: For me to know, and you to mud wrestle over. Starting... now.
36. Candy: Those little resturant mints that kind of melt in your mouth?
37. Sport to Play: Hahhaha...hahahaha..ahhahahahahaaa!
38. Restaurant: The Kitchen, or the Mountain sun.
39. Favorite brand to wear: None, unless they pay *me* to wear 'em. Which hasn't happened yet.
40. Store: Depends. I only browse on impulse.
41. School Subject: Science. Any.
42. Animal: Squirrel.
43. Book: Left Hand of Darkness
44. Magazine: Make
45. Shoes: Birks, 'cause they're not actually shoes.

___Currently___

46. Feeling: Fuzzy.
47. Single or Taken?: Taken.
48. Have a crush: Too simple a man to split attentions. See above.
49. Eating: Nada.
50. Drinking: Nada.
51. Typing: This is either a very dumb, or amazingly brillant question. I'll default to the former.
52. Online?: Only when I'm awake.
53. Listening To: Beat Farmers - California Kid
54. Thinking About: The human condition.
55. Wanting To: Fu.. eh, I'll say sleep.
56. Watching: My monitor.
57. Wearing: A bathing suit and an unbuttoned dress shirt.

__________Future__________

58. Want Kids?: Yeah. It's almost like they're little people.
59. Want to be Married?: Probably. Definitely if there are kids.
61. Where do you want to live: Where I live now, or back in northern CA. Or both.
62. Car: Finish fixing my damned '65 Mustang.

__Which is Better With The: Same Sex___

63. Hair color: Any can be good.
64. Hair length: Touchably short. Or long. Or Medium and tousled.
65. Eye color: Any.
66. Measurements: Ehem. PG answer, it's about balence.
67. Cute or Sexy: Hhhmn. Cute.
68. Lips or Eyes: Eyes.
69. Hugs or Kisses: Hugs.
70. Short or Tall: Short, but it's hard to be taller than me.
71. Easygoing or serious: Yes.
72. Romantic or Spontaneous: It's all about balence.
73. Fatty or Skinny: Anywhere thinner than me, which is pretty easy.
74. Sensitive or Loud: Both.
75. Hook-up or Relationship: Relationship. Sex is fun, intimacy is better.
76. Sweet or Caring: Caring.
77. Trouble Maker or Hesitant One: Trouble Maker. He's useless unless he stands up when he feels like.

___Have you ever______

78. Kissed a Stranger: They weren't *that* strange...
79. Had Alcohol: Best measured in lushes/week.
80. Smoked: A few times.
81. Ran Away From Home: Why? They should leave, not me!
82. Broken a bone: Same one, several times.
83. Got an X-ray: Yes, see above.
84. Been with someone: Such a metaphysical question. Don't know if I've ever 'been with' someone, but I've at least had sex with a decent number of people.
85. Broken Someones Heart: Broken? Don't think so. Bruised, beaten, and wounded? Yes.
86. Broke Up With Someone: Yes.
87. Cried When Someone Died: Yes.
88. Cried At School: Yep.

___Do You Believe In___

89. God: No.
90. Miracles: Sometimes we win the lottery.
91. Love At First sight: Lust at first sight. You can't love someone without knowing them. And it's impossible to *truly* know someone *without* loving them.
92. Ghosts: Only the ones we carry with us.
93. Aliens: "If we're really all alone, that would be a pretty big waste of space."
94. Soul Mates: Yes.
95. Heaven: Yes, it's ours to make.
96. Hell: Yes, it's ours to make.
97. Angels: The right people, at the right time... maybe.
98. Kissing on The First Date: A nervous wave goodbye, a long kiss, or a full body massage. No fixed rules here.
99. Horoscopes: See 90.

I'm in the movies

2005-07-28T22:19:18Z

Dateline: Boulder, home, office

I haven't updated much recently... so if any of you have notices, sorry. I've been preoccupied with the new job (and the new roommate. ;-)

Today has been fun... slept in after a sucessful business trip to L.A.... went to lunch with Nick at The Kitchen, which we both agree is probably the best resturant in Boulder... and after a devistatingly ineffective reverse-psycological self-control pep-talk from Nick, decided to buy not one, but TWO of the paintings I'd been thinking about for the past three weeks. Call it a 'Happy New Job' present to myself.

Well, after barganing about $750 off of the prices, I shook hands on the deal. But for such an amount, personal check apparently doesn't cut it... and my new credit card hasn't arrived yet (grrr... did I mention I lost my wallet two weeks ago, I.D. and everything?). So I went to the bank (a block and a half away) to get a cashiers cheque...

...Only to find the street covered with a film crew. Apparently, the Pearl St. mall is a main site in the upcoming film Catch and Release. Interesting, but not overly exciting to watch (most of it is hurry-up-and-wait--action--cut--reset-and-wait-again), so I sneak by the crew to the bank. Twenty minutes of thrilling paperwork later, I leave the bank, and notice that I am now inside a police cordon, and am in the middle of the filming area. A huffy crew person with a rather large clipboard gives me an exasperated look and says (much to my confusion) "Damnit, you're supposed to start over *here*...", proceeds to move my physically four feet to the right, "... for this shot. Wait for the cue to walk, and don't make me tell you again", before walking off angrily toward some other underperforming hapless man-on-the-street.

Ooookay... So, someone calls "Cue background", and folks start moving... I decide to play along, and walk purposefully in the direction I was going anyhow. "Action!" Some other extra-ish person stops in front of me, and starts to talk about how he doesn't know what to say, but they told him to stop on this mark and talk at the other extra who came over for a minute as if he was an aquaintance, and he's never done this before, and have I done this before...

Well, smile and nod, and generally can't get a word in edgewise, until someone new yells "Cut!". Ten other people, some obviously crew, and some totally random, also yell "Cut!", trying to reinforce their importance to this process. I tell my friendly faux aquaintance "Well, that was fun", and he smiles and responds "yeah, isn't it great!" before running back to what I presume was his starting mark.

I look around, and see a nicely dressed lady a few feet to my right, relaxing under a shady spot. Feeling saucy, and kind of enjoying the charade, I say to her "How do you think that take went? Worth keeping?" She turns, and nods, "yeah, I think we got that one in the can, but Sus (sic) will probably want another." I nod back, responding "Yeah. Better get these extras moving", and walk off.

I'm not very good with faces, and generally care less about hollywood folk, but upon reflection and a quick IMDB search, the nice lady was apparently Jennifer Garner, who I guess is the lead. Well.

I suppose it's for the best. Extras asking for autographs is so gauche!

But I'm much more excited about my two artworks. A 36"w x 42"h beautiful pastel of a tree, and a 42" by 42" pastel of sky... Greg Coffin is the artist. Apparently a Boulder local for years, he recently moved out to San Francisco when his work started to gain some recognition. I can see why it did... but I may be biased. ;-)

Employee #24601

2005-06-08T23:05:34Z

Dateline: Boulder, home, backyard

Well, it is official. I have a new job. I now work for the Deathstar. (AKA, Intel, your friendly neighborhood semiconductor company.) Or rather, I will as of June 27th.

The decision wasn't that easy. The other offer (with a major Linux-centric company) was fair, and I like the people a lot, but... at the end of the day, this isn't a hobby, it's a job. Matt wants lettuce.

What does this mean? Well, for posterity's sake, here are my expectations:

-- Less Travel. About 50% on the road, give or take. Focused on the western states.
-- More design time. Actually doing end-to-end proof of concepts, on the company dime.
-- Bleeding Edge projects. This group currently has a couple of clusters in the top 10, let alone top 50. Jobs like that are neat, and aren't found everywhere.
-- Money like Croesus. This has me earning just shy of one fuck-ton. (Approx 0.8 fuck-tons per year, for those keeping score)

So today is what I like to call a good day.

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Resurfacing.

2005-06-05T05:48:33Z

Dateline: Boulder, CO, kitchen

Such a simple list of ingredients,: A little frustrated sexual energy, some energetic music, and a bunch of paint. I usually keep any two of the three on-hand... can't believe I don't mix them more. Guess I can blame Nick, he usually makes sure I don't have any of the first available on weekends.

It started out simply enough this afternoon. Hate to just toss those almost-empty colors. What the heck, a line here, a block there. Started to develop into a decent abstract, quasi-mondrian. But it was missing something... it needed scope! Lucky I had two more 80"x30" canvases. (Actually, have 6... but a triptych is enough. It's a small house.)

I set the two newcomers on either side, and the pattern evolved. Further from the center, it became non-linear, more organic shapes. By the edges, I had the table covered in plastic, and was blending colors like a latex wielding swedish chef. I may have borked a few times, I definitely laughed. While I was enjoying myself, I decided to open the windows. Just in case. ;-)

Turned out better than I'd hoped. I sat down on the floor and treated myself to a beer while I looked at it. Successful or not, I didn't feel the need to change anything about it... which is pretty damned unusual for me. I'm a perfectionist, and rarely one to leave well enough alone. Here, I just enjoyed.

Sadly, I have no walls on which such a work would fit. And besides, these closet doors already have a higher (or, rather, lower) calling. So I painted over them. A pure, uniform white.

I have to say, I like knowing there is something under there. Something of me, even if no one else will ever see it.

Or, maybe I should just get some actual art supplies next time.

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zeypher @ 2005-05-26T07:58:00

2005-05-26T14:11:11Z

Dateline: Boulder, home, floor

Well, that was fun. Any dinner that lasts until the next morning should be. ;-)

To those who came: Thanks.
To those who didn't: I'll get you next time.

And now, for the packing. San Jose and all it's wonders await.

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Help needed.

2005-05-24T01:59:40Z

Dateline: Boulder, CO, kitchen

Was going through my cookbooks looking for worthy meals this week, and I found a killer Pork Vindaloo. Trouble is, when I went to Whole Foods to get the required meats, the only suitable cut was three pounds! Well, silly me, I got it. Now I need to figure out how to finish it.

Help me finish my meats! If you'll be near Boulder tomorrow or Wednesday night, and want a free meal, let me know. Otherwise, I'll be eating tasty vindaloo all week.

Oh yeah, and I got a case of miscellaneous (but very nice) wines. (Hey, Mondays and Tuesdays are 20% of a case at Liquor Mart! Damn them!)

.

S.T.O.N.I.T.H.

2005-05-23T22:47:09Z

Dateline: Boulder, CO, home

Job interviews are actually kind of fun for me. As long as I'm not caught at one of those times (about 1-2 hours any given day, depending on sleep schedule, meals, and/or the phase of the moon) when I have to fight to make words come out coherently, it's an enjoyable intellectual, challenge to face a verbal timed test. Dynamically tuning the level of pedantic technical detail with the fine art of social engineering, so that the listener is most impressed... ah... veritable mind candy.

But I'll be damned if I can figure out how this interview with Intel just went. Only 38 minutes, basically non-technical. Technical interview to follow tomorrow morning. I either convinced him of my qualifications almost instantly, or I blew it all over and will be getting the thin email real soon now.

Feh. I think I will mow the lawn now. The lightning seems to have passed.

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zeypher @ 2005-05-21T01:15:00

2005-05-21T07:33:40Z

Dateline: Boulder, CO, home

That went... not well. I plane I got on, the last plane to Denver, was a full hour late. The crew had wandered off apparently. They were also oversold... but getting people to volunteer when the next flight you can offer them is 23 hours later is tough... when all you offer is a $200 voucher, it's pretty much impossible. Heck, usually you at least get a free ticket. So, rather than up their offer, they actually kicked people with confirmed seats off the plane! (Okay, they did it in the terminal so there wouldn't be any kicking or dragging involved, but it's still the first time I've ever seen it.)

I did have a thought about why United has been so awful the past week or so. In hindsight, it's actually bloody obvious, but I wasn't able to formulate the thought while in a haze of non-specific largely-impotent rage earlier in the evening. (Finding a turkey sammich helped a lot)

United just screwed over all of their employees by reneging on their pension program. Defaulted. Handed it over to the gov't, who is now (partially) bailing it out with taxpayer dollars. The 30 year United employee, a month away from retirement can now expect about half of what they were previously getting. After that kind of raping with a stick (and not even a reach-around), I'd be a bit less 'customer-oriented' myself.

So, while I still wish United would just go bankrupt already (Chapter 7 would allow me to buy that mothballed 767-200 really cheaply ;-), I no longer desire 9 biblically-inspired plagues to strike them first.

See, I'm gracious!

Also, it is a beautiful evening here. Around 72 still, clear air, almost full moon, and the grass is still green enough to lend a pleasant scent. Glad to be home.
.

Travel is exotic, travel is exotic, travel is... oh fuck it.

2005-05-20T23:53:42Z

Dateline: Dulles International, some overpriced airport bar

First things first: United deserves to go bankrupt. Truely.

I had one flight canceled because of staffing problems (the pilots didn't show... not delayed, not stuck, just lost). Sigh, rebook, fine. My next flight, which we boarded late because the incoming flight was delayed by weather, boarded, and was about to be pushed back, when the ground crew tried to attach the tug. And failed. Failed so badly that they broke the landing light on the front gear. We could hear the glass smash inside the cabin. I'm pretty sure I heard the pilot swear. Colorfully. An EMB-145 is a small plane, but it could have been one of the other passengers. So after taking 40 minutes to repair the light (they had determined that there was no other damage... lucky us), we were on our way. Sort of. Because we'd missed out pushback, we had to get a new takeoff clearance from the FAA, which took another 20 minutes. And because of weather at IAD, we had to hold and spin for about 10 more minutes. Fine... still could have made it. Barely. But then, the ground crew in Dulles managed to break the belt loader they use to get the bags off. Which on an RJ, on United, means they can't get the 'carry-on' luggage off, so we had to sit and wait. PLUS, even while they were dicking with the loader, they didn't notice there were no stairs. Why this is a problem I don't know. An EMB-145 has stairs built into the door... it's not that high. But they made up wait *another* 10 minutes while they found their lost stairs, and manuvered them into position. So much for the second IAD->DEN reservation that day. Wait in line for 45 minutes at the service counter (while the staff goes from 6 people to 2... and the line goes from 20 people to 60), only to be told that the last flight out is 100% booked, and there were no alternate connections availible today on other airlines.

I stared at her. This poor lady, who was neither cognizant of, nor responsible for my difficulties so far. I just stared. I think I looked a little upsetting. She started to say something... I stared... she stopped.

She found me a seat. Miracle. I stared, now with a slight grin. I think I looked a little upsetting. It's a fscking middle seat on a 100% booked 737. I had a first class class (not business... first) on an International 777-200. But at least I'm getting home today. I've seen the damned Smithsonian(s) enough times already.

In other news, I now have unsolicited job offers from TWO companies. Both are less travel, though I wouldn't be a manager anymore (Yay! Despite the not-so-small ego trip, it's not something I particularly enjoy. Though my team members seem to like en well enough.) Also, I think the tech business is recovering... because the offers are for 35% and 40% more, respectively, than I'm currently being paid. I'd take either.

Okay, time for another glass of wine. Anything to prevent me from spending three and a half hours staring (upsettingly, and alternately) at the innocents in seats 5D and 5F.

At least the weather along the front range is GORGEOUS for the next week. Tomorrow, I'll hang my sky-chair from the maple tree, and spend hours spinning and unwinding.

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My house is 2,140 pixels wide

2005-04-12T18:10:57Z

Dateline: Boulder, home, guest room floor.

My morning.

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One of these days

2005-04-04T04:42:14Z

Dateline: Richmond, VA, some hotel

My rental car wouldn't start this morning. Air good, spark good, fuel bad. I got it running, which produced a huge cloud of grey smoke. This made me greasy.

The friendly starbucks barista couldn't understand a double shot venti americano. Six shots of espresso. I drank it all in less than five minutes. This made my hands shake.

Research showed there are four direct flights a day from Denver to Santa Barbara. Uncomfortable little CRJs. I booked one of them there in June for less than $150. This made me grin.

A conversation about scheduling devolved rather quickly when they wouldn't give me any dates. Not even fake ones. I decided that we can only work 9-5 M-F until then, and sent my staff home. This made me a target.

Stress relief needs, an enabling co-conspirator, and a giant empty parking lot held many possibilities. The construction cones were fortuitous. I figured out how to pull the traction control fuse. This made me leave tire marks.

An ill-advised but required code upgrade had never been tested before. German code comments are funny when translated by google. I rewrote 400 lines of perl code from scratch in an hour and a half. This made me L33t.

Working late on weekends requires a 24x7 badge that I can't get. We were the only people left in the building.
I had to set off the silent alarm, again, to get out. This made me sigh, and walk away.

This week has been very long. But we got *most* of our goals accomplished.
I'm going home tomorrow evening. This makes me happy.

A new life goal

2005-03-31T07:14:19Z

Dateline: Richmond, VA, some hotel

Minor bout of insomnia this evening, or maybe it's just what I get for my callous disregard for a healthy sleep cycle. Either way, I have a new life goal.

I will have an airplane for a home.

Now, this is not an entirely novel idea, but it's certainly not been executed very often. There are many potential pitfalls. First, you have to have a site to place your new aerospace derived dwelling. Any aircraft worth living in probably measures at least 100' in one or more dimensions, so transporting it (flying, or more likely not) is probably going to involve heady logistics, a plasma torch, and several wide load transit permits. Most passenger airliners would only become affordable after being retired from service and stripped of any reusable parts, which includes the avionics, most control surfaces, large chunks of the interior, wiring harnesses, landing gear (which apparently have remarkable resale value... who knew?), etc.

But just imagine it!

My aircraft of choice? A Boeing 767-200. It's the best match between interior living area, ceiling height, airframe availability (just shy of 1,000 767's have entered service since the airframe was launched in 1978), and transportability (it's the narrowest widebody). Just how much living space would this provide? A sumptuous 1,667 square feet! (Or 15,121 cubic feet. Don't laugh, my current house only has 8,400.) Not including the flight deck, the main floor is 111'4" long, has a max width of 15'6", and a ceiling that goes up to 9'5" high. Add almost another 4,000 cubic feet of cargo hold (probably twice that after removing center fuel tanks and mechanicals), and it's damn near a mansion. ;-) Want to entertain? Well, you've got 3,050 square feet of deck. Worried about crowds? Don't, the wing is rated to over 125 pounds per square foot. Every Foot. Or about 150 tons of buffet space. It will need AT LEAST 0.6 acres of relatively level land. More realistically an acre or two.

Fine, so with a fuselage 155' long, and a wingspan of 156'1", transportable is a relative term. But it should be able to be cut down, with the largest section around 50' by 15' by 17'. (Three fuselage sections, two wings, and the tail assemblies) Yeah, like I said, permits. Need to check into those interstate transport regs. 900 miles? Eugh. Hmmmn... maybe there's a way to fly a retiring airframe to Broomfield or Loveland, and strip it there? Fine, Colorado Springs? Hmmmn...

/me fires up google to find out.

Eminent domain, and my ugly ass street sign.

2005-03-18T22:29:24Z

Dateline: Boulder, CO, Office

Let me start off my saying that I personally find nothing wrong with NIMBYism. (or in this case, NIMFY, which may never cache on as a social meme because it makes the listner think the problem is related to a nubile female nature spirit.)

Often NIMBYism, a valid and meaningful sentiment, is debased and marginalized by it's assumed conflation with hypocrisy. Hypocrisy is the only galling social problem. But it is easy to avoid! If, in a given set of circumstances, I would not want something done to me, I don't want it done to anyone else either.

You're probably nodding your head, wisely agreeing with my sage words. If not, you're probably thinking "What the bollocks is that twat on about today?". Either or both is understandable.

In this case, it's the traffic department of the City of Boulder. Apparently, some hard luck case with not much better to do has complained to the city that their POS car with blown-out shocks and a mostly opaque windshield is bottoming out as they try to cross a depression in the roadway 20 yards down the street from my house.

This wide gutter is signifigant, but very visible, and not bad to drive over. My car can do it at 35 without a problem... so anyone travelling the 25 mph that the law suggests should have no issue. In the name of full disclosure, I have seen one car draw scrapes and sparks as it crossed this road feature; the lowered 80's vintage Camaro with (now) semi-functional mufflers driven by the 16 year old friend of my next door neighbor. He was going at least 40. I laughed. Hard. I picked up the metal bits I could find and delivered them to the kid when he parked in front of my house the next day. He didn't laugh. But he did turn kinda pink and mutter something along the lines of "Thanks mister".

So, now that they have these complaints about a road-feature, present some 20+ years at least, they have decided to take action! By filling the admittedly deep gutter? Nope, too expensive. By laughing at the silly kid and his (now) partially-muffled lowered Camaro? Nope, too simple. No, they have decided to put up a FOURTEEN FOOT TALL signpost, with a sign saying "15 MPH", mounted over another sign saying "DIP", at the base of MY FUCKING DRIVEWAY.

Property value issues aside, the aesthetics of this solution are severely lacking. I do not want this humongous sign placed in the right-of-way of my property. I would not see the value in this sign were this someone else's property. And there is probably dick-all I can do about it. The city does have right-of-way rights off of the sidewalk, no negotitaion. The traffic department answers to no-one in particular, if they classify an issue as a 'safety matter', which they have here. And I can't talk to head of the transportation department at the city (who is the contact for matters like this, I was told) even to get details, because he screens his damn calls and has sent me to VM twice already, even though his secretary told me he was in and she thought he was free. ARRRRGGHHHH!

I am a drunkard's drunkard.

2005-03-09T02:18:46Z

Dateline: Boulder, home, couch

Dear Penthouse, I never thought it could happen to me...

Wait, wait. Wrong confession. I meant to say, I think I've become a beer snob. I'll leave my reasons for drinking as an exercise for the reader, but a quick trip to the local liquor store netted me some excellent finds this evening:

New Belguim - La Folie

Stone Brewing - Arrogant Bastard Ale

Liefmans - Goudenband

Rogue - Half-E-Weizen

I can't just buy a Bud, can I? No, when I have the call to get sloshed, I have to go gourmand. In other news, the Rogue heffie is so-so, but quite passable for an american style wheat. The Arrogant Bastard is fantastic. And the La Folie... the La Folie is to kill for (hhmmmmn... may have to later.. they only produced 3000 bottles... aged three years).

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If you will it, so shall it be.

2005-03-07T20:18:42Z

Dateline: Boulder, home, couch.

Last night, over the airport the sky was crystal clear. Driving along, the wind started picking up, doing it's best to push my car around. The subie doesn't have much of a wind profile, but it's light and the steering is fairly precise, so it's noticeable. The buffets started getting stronger, and I started straining to see the grass by the side of the road or one of the widely spaced trees by the side of the highway. My hope was that I could judge how fast the breeze was blowing. But it's winter, bare twigs and limbs don't give many visual cues, and the short grass by the road is always swaying anyhow. So at night, not to mention at ~80 MPH, I had no good way to figure it out.

So, I said out loud, to myself, "You know what you need Matt?" I often refer to myself by name, you see. I said "You need a tumbleweed to blow across the road, like in some cheesy wagon train flick".

Not more than three seconds after this thought was tossed into the empty car, a HUGE, nicely rounded, 4' diameter tumbleweed skittered across the road just in front of my car, carried by a gust that bumped the car sideways a few inches.

After I calmly announced "Looks like a 25 to 30 mile per hour wind" to the still empty car, I broke down laughing. Tumbleweed are not spectacularly unusual in Colorado, but I can safely say I don't see them every day. I don't even see them on most windy days. And this one's sense of timing was perfect. I had summoned it.

But the rule of threes must be obeyed. Within two minutes, another tumbleweed had hopped over the embankment by the side of E-470, this one with more malicious intent. It struck my car in the right front fender, at high speed. Fortunately, tumbleweed are not very solid objects, so I can safely say it was on the losing end of that collision. It was followed quickly by a third wandering shrub. It tried it's best to run me off the road, by hopping the guardrail and stopping in the center of my lane... but by this point I was wise to their game. I wasn't going to be intimidated by any extraneous pulp western prop! I kept my hands on the wheel, and leaned back in my seat, foot steady on the accelerator. Let him flinch first. The game of high-speed chicken was over in an instant. He didn't understand my commitment. He misjudged.

There were no more tumbleweed last night. Not passing by in front of me, not passing behind.

zeypher @ 2005-03-06T00:03:00

2005-03-06T07:07:09Z

Dateline: Eugene, OR, Phoenix Inn

Seeing my sister's little university town, this Oregonian sister city of Boulder, has made for a really nice weekend. But I'm tired. There's only so much emotional stress that I can take, before it starts to effect me physically. It's been effecting me since Friday afternoon.

I'll note more later, but for now, sleep beckons.

Cognative science, and the many uses of your hands.

2005-02-20T18:20:43Z

Dateline: Richmond, VA, next to the fireplace of a Panera bread shop

Free WiFi access is a beautiful thing. Almost lets me forget that I'm two-thousand miles from home, and doing *nothing* productive either for myself or for work.

In other news, it pleases me that I can type pretty competently without looking at my laptop at all, generally paying attention to other things, visually. Impressed the hell out of me the first time I met someone who could type at full speed while looking directly at someone else and holding a conversation. It's a skill I had to spend some years developing. And now I think it's just the result of spending far too long in front of a computer.

There is still a bottleneck. Somewhere in the language centers of the brain, it's hard to compose two separate streams of thought at once. Heck, most people (myself included) have a hard time listening to more than one train of thought at a time, let alone formulating plural ideas. But if what's being typed doesn't require much thought, there seems to be enough lag to allow mental scheduling to occur. Form a few words, or a sentence, and hand them off to the physical reflex circuits controlling your fingers. Even a very fast typist (which I am NOT... maybe 60 WPM on a good day) can think far faster than the hands allow for transcription. So while your keyboard oriented digits work to empty their buffer of words, you can be sorting and communicating the content of your alternate, verbal correspondence.

I suppose I should stop typing with my eyes closed now. It seems to have disturbed the woman across from me enough that she's staring openly. Heh.

Well, my kismet client plugin for gkrellm isn't going to finish writing itself. And maybe I'll feel better after doing something semi-productive like that. Fourteen years after I used my first C compiler, I still get a thrill whenever my code builds without errors. I think I'll try to add the interface functionality to lock the card frequency, drop out of monitor mode, randomly rotate the card's MAC, and try to associate with the detected AP I've clicked on. (Hopefully resuming monitor mode and frequency hopping if the association fails for some reason... but I haven't gotten that code working yet)

.

I declare winter over! (Do you hear me!?)

2005-02-13T22:12:43Z

Dateline: Boulder, home, backyard

Damn it feels good to lay out here and soak up the sun. It's only about 60, but that's enough. With any luck I'll have the beginnings of a sunburn in an hour.

Winter needs to be *done*. Usually, winter is a great time of year. You can slow life down a little, wrap a blanket around yourself (and anyone else that comes to mind ;-), and concentrate on keeping warm while nature rests and resets itself. But it's come to my attention that what's key to this picture is snow. I love the snow, but there hasn't been much this year. So all that's left are these frigid, bright sunny winter days.

And those get to be a mindfuck before too long. You look outside, and that beautiful intense light pouring out of the crystal blue sky seems like it was ripped out of a perfect July day. The kind of day where you call in sick to work, slap on some shorts and sandals, and take off to go hiking. But then you open the door, and hit that wall of palpable cold. Feel it, and almost see it roll in across the floor like some biblical egyptian plague. So you put on your sweater, sigh, and resign yourself to another half-winter day. Too cold to play, and too clear to let the weather slow you down.

So, since it's close enough to warm that I can fake it, fill in the missing leaves on the trees and bask in the sun (even if I still have a mug of hot tea next to my head), today is a good day. Even better, I don't have to go anywhere tomorrow, and it's supposed to be even warmer. (And there's a chance to snow tomorrow night... heh. I love Colorado. Some days ;-)

The Twelve Hours Of Tampa

2005-02-03T19:18:07Z

Dateline: Tampa, FL, way too f*cking early to be out of bed

After getting up at 5:30 AM, I arrived in Tampa at 5:05 PM yesterday. I was supposed to have arrived at 11:32 AM. Go Delta Airlines! Officially the Greyhound of the skies. Or maybe the Amtrak of the skies. Or perhaps we'll just apply my favorite saying about the city of Atlanta, which is apropos here: "An airline(sic) of northern charm, and southern efficency." Also, Oldest Planes Ev-ar.

I arrived at the hotel at 5:45 PM. Called my new boss to say that I was (finally) there, and it turns out she was already in the lobby. So we talked for a bit, I checked in, sent a few emails, and came back down to meet for our team dinner. One fairly entertaining mealtime, far too many new names and faces, and some decent seafood later, we retired to the hotel bar to discuss. But it was far too late, and we were all far too tired to stay up for long. So I went back to my room, sent some semi-coherent emails, and went to bed. And now, almost an instant later, I'm awake, and packed, and waiting for the shuttle to take me to the airport.

Now, wasn't that a good use of my time? A 30 hour round trip, of which 16 will be spent traveling. 6 were spent sleeping, 6 were spent meeting, and 2 were spent sending and recieving email.

.

zeypher @ 2005-02-01T18:08:00

2005-02-02T01:15:26Z

Dateline: Richmond, VA, hotel room

Here's something fun. Tomorrow morning (at dark o'clock) I'm flying to Tampa, FL for a conference. I was going to stay at the Doubletree next to the airport. Looked decent enough, would be easy enough to catch my return flight the next morning, and best of all, it had a room. (Apparently, Florida is a popular spot in February. Who knew?)

Then, I saw that an Assistant Attorney General of Florida had already stayed there.

I changed to another hotel. Hopefully this one will have fewer hookers and pimps. And Florida attorney generals.

As another bonus, I'm sick. Fever and everything. Hopefully if I get to sleep early enough tonight, I'll be able to make it through my 16 hour non-stop day tomorrow.

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