Yeah, I'm Ashamed About the Last 8 Years... NOT!

BUMPED: The update explains why.

FULL DISCLOSURE: I originally published this one, then a friend from Texas (who is a much better writer than I) got ahold of it and polished it. Therefore, this has been slightly modified. The intent remains the same. Only the smackdowns are more well written.

I popped on over to Skippy's List and checked out the latest posting from Michiel, who went into a rather quick discussion of why he's happy that Bush is leaving office.

In a word, "Gack!"

It leads with

"I think about 70% of us can agree..."

Well, many of us believe that 50% of all statistics are made up, but I digress.

Michiel, if you want to rant about how much YOU think Bush sucks, have at it. It’s your opinion and you’re entitled to it. You’re even entitled to say it aloud and in print, but what gets to me is the "I'm ashamed to be an American." statement you made, then dittoed time and again in the comments. This gets to sounding like a therapy session. "Hi, my name is Michiel, and I'm ashamed to be an American." followed by a chorus chiming in, "Hi, Michiel. I’m ashamed, too!"

Were you ashamed when Al-Qaeda tried to blow up the World Trade Center the first time (1993), and Clinton did... nothing? When they blew up Khobar Towers in Saudi Arabia and Clinton did... nothing? When suicide bombers blew up the USS Cole and Clinton sent... a couple of missile strikes? When bombers blew up the embassies in Nairobi and Dar es Salaam I didn't hear much talk about shame then. All of these, by the way, happened on Clinton's watch. Did he have anything to do with them? Nope. What did he do about them? Next to nothing, which Al-Qaeda saw as, "Hey, we can kick the living piss of out these people and they won't do anything. What a bunch of pussies! Let's kill more of them!" This is what happens when you do nothing in the face of evil.

You talk about Dubya "being on vacation". Yeah. Vacation. The last sitting president to get a vacation was somewhere in the Coolidge or Roosevelt I administrations. Okay, sure, George W. Bush had absolutely no access to any of his senior staff when he was in Crawford. Nope, none. Completely isolated. No access to phones or e-mail because, well, Texas is obviously a technologically challenged backwater. Right? Hardly - the President of the United States is surrounded by the most extensive and redundant communications system known to man and he literally cannot get away from it.

Regardless, when did the President become the be-all, end-all of this country, and when did we expect the government to come to our aid when things were going wrong?

Since when did this country become a cult of personality? Is the President the only reason to love or hate this country? Apparently so. When Clinton's presidency ended, Alec Baldwin Eddie Vedder stated, "If Bush wins the White House, I'm leaving."

Alas, he didn't follow up on his promise.

When I was growing up, my family expected the government to stay the hell out of our lives, not get more involved. And certainly not to the point where we expect them to hover over us. The people I grew up with called that concept "socialism". We were expected to get through puberty, then move out. We were expected to work our own way through the world, and watch out for ourselves. Which reminds me of Hurricane Katrina hitting New Orleans. Hey, couldn't have seen that coming. It appeared suddenly out of nowhere with absolutely no warning whatsoever. Just suddenly whacked New Orleans. Everyone's dancing in the bayou one second and underwater the next. No warning messages saying "Leave Now!" All the fault of that EVIL Army Corps of Engineers, no doubt.

And when people DIDN'T leave (you know, on any of those buses left to wind up underwater), then they started screaming for government assistance. When the call comes out, it falls to the government to do, well, everything. The Mayor of New Orleans sat on his hands waiting for the incompetent Governor of Louisiana to do something. But who took the blame when neither did anything? FEMA and George W. Bush, who simply did nothing more than follow the law.

A couple of months later, a flood hit the Midwest. I don't remember hearing about people dying in their homes or looting. Nor did you hear of the National Guard having to be mobilized to handle the populace.

Another one that really gets me is

"I have never been so embarrased (sic) to say I am from Texas as I have been these last eight years."

I haven’t read anything that leaves me with the feeling Texas is all that glad to have you. Tell you what. Head south. Seriously, hop in your jalopy, drive until you hit water, and then take a swim. That, if you'll pardon the cliché, will kill two birds with one stone. You'll no longer have to say you're from Texas OR from America. Instead, you can whine to the President of Mexico, [as world weary as you make yourself out to be, you know who he is, right?] about how he makes you embarrassed (note the spelling... "ss", two of them, as in "ass") to tell people you're from Mexico.

Oh, and you might want to hold that thought while you’re there, as you might not like the Mexican response.

But, wait, "Fortunately, I haven’t traveled to other countries". Fortunately! FORTUNATELY? So, you've never been anywhere but here but you're willing to throw your entire country under the bus simply because of the President? Yeah, you're truly a proud American. "Proud" in the same way that the President-elect's wife was "proud" to be an American. Well, I have traveled to other countries and have always been glad to be back. And, Texas – what a great place so long as you’re not subjected to the vagaries of Baghdad on the Brazos.

"And since we are on the Texas thing, what the hell is up with your accent?" Yeah, America isn't a melting pot at all. Can't have different dialects merging. That would never do.

In your closing, you stated "I would like to express my feelings by quoting your eloquent Vice President, Dick Cheney..." (It’s a bit lost out of context to its original utterance, by the way.) Instead, I'm going to quote another, eloquent American, Gene Weingarten of the Washington Post.

"Now, please respond with that biting sarcasm for which you are so well known, and bite me."

UPDATE 2009/07/05: Mike the Marine provided a much more curt appraisal of those who would turn this great country into a cult of personality.

Problems with Paperport 11 Not Responding

I've had problems with Paperport 11 freezing up (not responding, crashing, whatever). Turns out that my problem is that the thumbnail files (which Paperport names "PP11Thumbs.ptn" and "PP11Thumbs.ptn2") were corrupted. I exited out of Paperport (it was not responding anyway), went into the directory where those files were stored, and deleted them both.

All that does is, when Paperport 11 starts up and you go into that directory, it will take a few extra seconds while it rebuilds the thumbnails. However, it won't freeze up anymore after that.

I have to agree with the many people who are very unhappy with the fact that the program crashes, but this is a work-around until Nuance fixes the problem. If that ever happens.

The US Patent Office's Secret Patents

I've come to realize that all of the patents currently held by the US Patent Office are secret. How do I know? Well, take a look at this screenshot from my computer (using Firefox Ver. 3.0.8 as my browser). I'm supposed to be looking at an image of a page from one of Edwin Armstrong's patents for frequency modulation. Instead, I'm looking at... nothing. Nothing at all. Why? It seems that the Patent Office, in its infinite wisdom, has decided to use Quicktime to display images. And Firefox appears to have, uh, *issues* with Quicktime.

So my question is simple. Why Quicktime? Why not simple images (JPG, PNG, whatever)? Even Internet Explorer can display those properly.

Sigh.

Farewell to Another "Red Tail"

Walter Palmer, one of the Tuskegee Airmen, earned a new set of wings.

God speed, sir.

Respect Earned

I was teaching a small class on all things RF. One of the students was a Marine. He was quiet, but when I would ask general questions of the class, he was one of the ones who would proffer an answer. He also asked lots of questions. But one of the things that I noticed one day was that he was always 15 minutes late. That's unlike any Marine I've ever known. Marines are always punctual. Always. At first, it was annoying. Then I decided to confront him. Well, he beat me to it. On the third day, he came up to me during a break. Looking me straight in the eye, he quietly said, "Sir, I just wanted to let you know that I'm going through a divorce right now." My heart went out to him. Such a thing would be devastating to me. I blurted out, "I'm sorry."

He wasn't looking for sympathy. He was simply passing information. "I wanted you to know that because now I have to get my daughter off to school. So I can't get here til 8:15." I should have known. From then on, I always noted that, right at 8:15, we was walking in the door. But then on the last day, it's test time. Unfortunately, snow has caused a problem. Schools are opening two hours late. He has to stay home with his daughter because he has not been able to set-up childcare yet. We have two tests to get through. He's missed the first one, and we're well into the second when he finally walks... er, charged would be a more apt term... through the door. I handed him a copy of the second test and said, "We'll make up the other one later." Even though the second test is open book / open notes, he simply gets out a single sheet with some precisely written notes, a calculator, a pencil and an eraser. And everything is placed precisely on the desktop in front of him. He goes through the first test in brisk order. He hands it in and says, "Can I take the first one now?" I'm shocked at how quickly he's gone through the test, thinking, "He must have skipped some stuff." But I quickly drop the first test in front of him. He runs through it with the same, brisk pace. When he hands it in less than 15 minutes later (an hour was allotted for the test), I looked around. Despite the fact that he came in late, he breezed through both tests and still finished before several other students.

And how did he do? Well, let me just say that his grades would do ANYone proud, Marine or otherwise.

Another EMT Story

A friend just sent me a video of a woman kicking the living p*ss out of a guy. From the context, it seems that he started it (after he got drunk), but she finished it. Reminds me of a story from when I was a firefighter. I was driving the ambulance this time, unlike my first story. The call was for a "person injured in a fight". The part of town where the call came from was not, shall we say, a good part of town. Any time the cops went in there, they went (a) in force and (b) loaded for bear. We pulled into the community behind two cop cars who raced ahead. By the time we got there, there were already five cop cars in front of a townhome.

Now, picture this: A small townhome. A front door made of glass and the glass is completely shattered. Surrounding the front yard is a 4' high chain link fence. The fence is roughly 15' from the front door. Lying on the ground where the fence hits the grass is a man, clutching the fence as if his life depended on it, crying, and he's yelling, "She was trying to kill me! She was trying to kill me!" Standing on the front porch are three women. One is relatively slender and of normal height (5' 8" or so). The other two are, shall we say, more substantial. All three are looking at this guy lying in the grass as if he were a cockroach to be stepped on. My aide and I start working on this guy. He's pretty well banged up. Has a nice cut over his right eye and a knot that's getting egg-sized. And more cuts all over. Oh, and he reeks of alcohol. We get him loaded into the back of the ambulance. Once we do, I ask the cops what happened because my aide needs to put it into her report.

Turns out that this guy has a history of domestic violence. This was his third time attacking the slender woman mentioned above (his girlfriend). In most cases, victims of domestic violence figure it's their own fault. Perhaps this women did, too. The first two times. But not this time. She called her two sister's to come help her. The two sisters (uh, BIG sisters would be the apt term here) came over and, uh, helped. They proceeded to give this guy (as another buddy called it) a "severe thumpin'". They finished him by tossing him through the front door. The plate glass front door. How in the world he did not wind up with deep gashes and life-threatening arterial bleeds, I will never know.

Let's just make this simple. The idea of "Don't Marry a Woman Bigger Than You" or "Don't Live With A Girlfriend With Two Sisters Bigger and Tougher Than You" isn't easy enough. How about, "Don't Commit Violence On Your Wife / Girlfriend / Significant Other"?

Just a thought.

Manny Acta - Class Act

The wife lucked into some tickets for the 2009 Natsfest in DC. I'm not much of a sports fan. Never really have been. I'm a geek. To me, jocks were those guys we made fun of when they weren't stomping mudholes in us just for kicks. Anyway, the Natsfest is an openhouse at the Nationals Stadium. Pretty much everything is open. We toured the various executive clubs, had our pictures taken with different players, and enjoyed the sights. One of the things that my wife wanted to see was the PNC club. At the time we went, Manny Acta, general manager of the Nats, was giving a talk. I'd seen him a few times during the afternoon. He'd signed autographs until he literally begged to stop because his wrist hurt. After that, he simply asked if he could just have his picture taken with the visitors.

Then the talk started. Manny was having a conversation with Charlie Slowes, the voice of the Nationals Radio. Then the floor was opened for questions. Four or five people managed to get in questions. The interesting part, to me, was how Manny handled the questions. He treated each one as if it was the most interesting thing he'd ever heard. He was straightforward, witty, and intelligent. At 3:30, he was told that only one more question would be allowed. Manny was surprised; his response was, "Do I have to be somewhere else?" That wasn't it. Another group was going to use the area after us. So we had to clear out. But it was obvious to me that he was enjoying the Q & A. Yes, it could have been an act, but Gywneth Paltrow at her best could not have matched him. He was terrific.

So, I have to give credit where it's due. Manny Acta is a class act.

DTV is coming!

In less than a month and a half, standard analog broadcasts across the US will cease. However, not all analog signals will cease. For example, if you are on cable systems, you will most likely still see analog for quite a while. If you are getting your signals over the air (meaning you use an antenna, not through a cable service provider or satellite dish), there are a couple of things to keep in mind:

• Channel Numbers: In the analog world, the channel number referred to the actual RF channel (a 6 MHz wide chunk of spectrum) that your TV used. For example, if you were watching channel 2, that meant that your TV was tuned to a signal residing between 54 - 60 MHz. Or perhaps you were watching channel 13, which referred to the spectrum between 210 - 216 MHz. Well, in the digital world, it's not that simple. As part of the digital bit stream coming into your digital-ready TV (or digital converter box), each channel is assigned a "virtual channel number". This may (or may not) be the same as the RF channel. Look at the image at left. This shows the RF channel number (27) and the assigned virtual channel number (26-1). Most likely, the virtual channel number applies to the station's analog channel number, which most people are used to.


• Multicasting: Notice how your digital channels are listed as "26.1" or "26-1"? That's because of something called "multicasting". That means that a TV station can put multiple programs onto one RF channel. For example, in the image shown, the channel is listed as "26-1". That's because it is the first program on the channel. But there are others. In this case, there were four programs running on this one RF channel. The first, listed as "26-1", was a program about home improvement. The second, third, and fourth programs (listed as "26-2", "26-3", and "26-4", of course), were a local program about Washington, DC, a cartoon, and a news program.


• RF Channels: The FCC first established 82 channels for analog television (channels 2- 83). In the 1980s, the top 14 channels (70 - 83) were given up for a new service called "cellular telephone". Now, with the transition to digital television, even more RF channels will be given up; channels 52 - 69, to be precise. Starting on 17 February, only RF channels 2 - 51 will be available for television. Those channels from 52 - 69 (a total of 108 MHz) will be used for new wireless services. But, in a practical sense, this also means that, if you already have a digital TV or converter box, you will need to re-scan on or near that date. That's because many stations will be changing frequencies. Your TV will need to know where to find them, requiring a rescan of the RF channels.

Thanks for Christmas Eve

As I sit writing this missive, thousands of my fellow citizens stand duty in harm's way thousands of miles from here. Thousands of miles from friends and, more importantly, family. I've just had a wonderful Christmas Eve day. Presents, good food, and family. But I digress. The point is that I do this knowing that my fellow citizens, volunteers all, are in harm's way this holiday season.

And if it weren't for those people, the world situation would be far, far worse. This wonderful Christmas of mine would not be possible.

So, to all of you, far away in really crappy conditions doing what you volunteered to do, please accept this:

Merry Christmas. And thank you.

Let Me Say "Thank You"... Again

It's 1973. I'm eight years old. The nerdiness has already set in. I'm a voracious reader. I'm very big into books about submarines, World War II, airplanes, World War II, and Abraham Lincoln. Probably in that order. One summer, my parents took me and my siblings (all four of them) to the Indiana State Fair. I remember wandering around the fair with my Mom's hand firmly clasped in mine. We wandered up to a large table stacked with all kinds of second-hand books. The man working the table was very nice. He asked my Mom if I read. Her response was something along the lines of, "Oh, yes. He reads constantly." I was already pawing through the books on the table. At one point, he reached over, picked up a small, short book. It had a red cover and was a collection of humorous letters sent to the Beatles. It's title was something like, "Hey, John, Paul, Ringo, & George: Can I have a lock of your hair?" Something like that. He then said I could have it. Free. It was mine to take home.

I know that book is still around somewhere. I know I read it many times. Frankly, I read it at least once before I left the fair. My parents, at one point, wanted to watch one of the livestock shows. So, I sat with them and read that book. If I hadn't had that book, I'd still love to read. My parents really encouraged it. Growing up, my bedroom had a medium sized walk-in closet with shelves ringing the top 3 feet. And each shelf was cram-packed with old books. I learned of astronomy, physics, history, calendars, on and on, thanks to that closet of books. And for that, I thank my parents. That, and much, much more.

Still, this stranger added to my love of reading just a bit more. That love has stayed with me. Part of the reason I love to read blogs. I just love reading. And he showed me that a simple act of kindness can have a long-term affect.

That day at the Fair, before we left that stranger's table, my Mom (being a Mom and in her best Mom voice) said, "Say 'Thank you.'" I know I did. Otherwise, I would not have lived through that day. But that was a thank you of an eight year old under penalty of getting a whoopin'. So, here, now, and with Mother safely many hundreds of miles away, I think it befitting that I say,

Thank you.