We are camped at the holiday inn, Memphis. Also here: a manly bunch — attending a greens keeper conference where I’m sure they will hash out ideal sprayer calibrations, sprinkler cycles, cutting heights and other secrets of the trade. Perfect location. Next door to the hotel, a .::Platinum Plus::. (with its magenta neon signage they fondly nicknamed the Purple _____! and it’s bikini nite). Bummer! I will miss the show. We move on under cover of bright sunshine.
All posts by cs
different-channel
Little passenger surveys cockpit with Mother sweetly prompting her to say ‘have a nice trip’. She was charming and was able to parrot Mom word for word. It was a change from the usual ‘say hi to the pilots’ which modesty or embarrassment makes awkward for a child (or an adult for that matter!). The youngster, around knee high, keeps saying ‘where are we going?’ and everyone falls over themselves trying to answer the void: ‘We are going up into the wildblue yonder — or to grandmothers house — or back home’ and I finally figured it out, she kept repeating the question. The adults were communicating on the wrong plain. She was not asking in a worldly sense but thinking in terms of row and seat number. e.g. what is our destination inside the aircraft; from where will we be enjoying this trip?. An obvious concern. Her Mother had ushered her into our confined space and she wasn’t seeing any empty chairs!
from the puzzle palace
Two computers — one monitor. The AB switch now allows alternation between them. This is necessary because I pulled my (original, first-ever-computer) ZEOS 486SX out of retirement. The old machine obsolete with VESA local bus and memory challenged might still be useful as a learning test bed. The other computer provides access to online help content, at least until I can get the LINUX OS to recognize its peripherals, and I’ve been using it for Google searches while typing cryptic instructions from the console command line on the other. After 3 or 4 relevant chapters and Appendix A & B in the manual, a HD format and re-partition I did a RedHat LINUX installation. The challenge is to install a driver for the network card. The driver is attainable as a free download but it is a source file, meaning that once downloaded and transferred over via floppy it must be compiled. So I use the windows machine to search for and retrieve the file. To get the file from the floppy to the LINUX system I had to learn how to mount the floppy drive. With the operating system that we all know and love all one does is open Windows Explorer and drag and drop. Takes a couple of mouse clicks. The floppy drive, fd1, I found in a directory called /dev/ (device). The command, and command line arguments, look like this: mount -t msdos /dev/fd1 /home/mnt/floppy. (Sounds simple but I had to read and learn this first) Finally, to transfer the file: cp /home/mnt/floppy/stl8139.c /home/temp. Whew! Except then I discovered that the software to compile the source file was on the RedHat Install CD 🙁 I researched and tracked down this one gcc-6.2.9-15.0.i386.rpm! after visiting and pouring over gcc.org and various other GNU and open source software web sites. To cut to the chase, after screwing around with trying to compile the driver source I discovered another command called locate which might just allow me to find the file ready to go. Another fork in the road because ‘locate’ wasn’t working. Happens that I must first build a db with script from a cron.date folder. More research. Mission accomplished even though I was thrown a kink with required script file misprinted in the manual it was similar and I gave it a shot. stl18139.o turned up in /usr/lib/2.2.2-15/etc . I struggled with this (must be fatigue at this point) file because the ‘l’ next to the 8 looks a whole heck of a lot like a ‘1’ and as we all know the computer does not forgive a syntax typo. Moving on, I had my file and could taste victory when the insert module, insmod command bombed. device active or not found… Okay, don’t give up yet! It’s early. Perhaps the kernel should be updated. This I understand is the most advanced thing that you can do in LINUX, so I wasn’t too hopeful. Every single tutorial on this tack was a variation on a theme. More .rpm files to download and these too large for a floppy so I had to burn them on a CD first. The kernel rebuild didn’t fly either. Too many absent file dependencies. Bail. Try a fresh re-install, I thought I had seen a dialog config option for network cards — nope —- same error msg. Arghhhhh!! I figure I’m computer literate but then I think to myself; I’m just trying to make it run (with varying degrees of success). There is actually somebody(s) out there in geekdom, godlike, that designed the thing from scratch! Impressive, no? If I could just get a hold of one of them! Time to put the keyboard down. It’s been total immersion for two days — two computers one exhausted overloaded pc nerd. Maybe after some rest… There’s a solution to the puzzle.
pushing the fine line
My first thought on day-one was that I’d never be able to survive 4 days of this. The FA was already wearing on my nerves. Melvin is a performer. When you first meet him he’s the type you’d turn to your buddy and mutter whoa, we got a live one here. He’s so wired that he chatters non-stop and his passenger briefings would put any comic that you’ve heard from an Southwest ‘A’ type to shame. He strives to entertain. The best reference that I can give is that he is a sound-alike clone for Richard Simmons. After one of his long winded routines the captive audience in the back might erupt into a cheer and applause. He feeds on this and his carnival like showmanship zooms up another notch. Some of them must be annoyed thinking that he’s got to be on something. Forget trying to study the in-flight magazine, it is an act that his impossible to tune out. We touch down in Cedar Rapids (the city of 4 smells — which one depends on the wind direction) and Melvin is greeted with the one from North. Euuuuu! What’s that smelllll?! The cabin door opens and he realizes the full effect. “Euuuuu. It’s coming from OUTsiiiide. I thought somebody on the plane had pharted!” (I kid you not. That was a direct quote delivered for all to hear. Rosie O’Donnell couldn’t have been more loud and obnoxious. Remind me to speak to him about that…) I wasn’t offended (by the smell, that is). It was from a Tallow Works or an animal rendering plant. I think the paper mills of Georgia are far worse. Nevertheless, as the people disembark they get the farewell good byes shtick along with his opinion of the putrification and the advice that “if you’re not from here — look out!” I must play the straight man to all of this lest they think that the pilots are rocked out too. Two more days to go. I think I’ll enjoy the show!
wrong number
I spied a *free* direct network connection in my hotel room and thought that I’d give it a whirl. It was dead. I suppose I could have tried to reboot my machine or a few more tricks but it was late so I bailed and hooked up to the desk phone instead. I have a lengthy list of local dial-up numbers (admittedly some old ones) accumulated, one for each layover, so I clicked connect and disappeared to unpack my bag. I returned to grab my email to discover that the connection had failed: no answer. Hmmmmm. I decided to dial it again — this time listening for the handshake and or phone feedback through the rather feeble internal pc speaker. I wanted to make sure that the hotel phone wasn’t locked, that the modem was working, that number was still valid. I learned that the number did in fact did dial and was ringing numerous times but did not pick up. I was searching for a way to end the attempt (instead of waiting) when the phone picked up. I strained to hear, expecting a canned recorded message from Ma Bell saying that “the number you have dialed…” etc. but imagine my surprise to hear a rather live sleepy voice answer: “hello? hello? —– hello?”. I felt badly. At 1030 pm, I know I it would have been somewhat irritated. Shame that the phone company would stick a residence with a number formerly used by machines. You move into town and call the phone company for new service and they say sure, here’s a phone number that is available and in-active. When we rolled into town years ago we blindly accepted a number that, thru luck of the draw, happened to be one digit off from a local hotel. Can you imagine the occasional kinds of calls we get during the odd hours? Man! I thought that we had it bad but I see not. Maybe the pc could be used to sleuth a candidate phone number before we commit to live with it. Now — if I can just figure out how to get on-line…
parkside performance
“Smart Dog!”, comments the park employee from the rolled down window of his official vehicle. Our soft trail crosses the access road at 90 degrees and I was on the other side looking back for dawg lagging behind when I spotted the ranger. I thought we were busted. It was not a question of the pet’s safety, the truck was moving quite slowly probably deciding how my predicament would play out. Having awareness of the local animal leash law it was show time for us. Dawg would either make us both look good, else we were setting ourselves up for a warning lecture. It would not have been too swift for him to scamper across the roadway to join me. I faced him and gave a single wait voice command (which he knows) and he held short at the edge. Whew! I backtracked to rejoin him as he waited obediently and Mr. Ranger rolled on passed. I was relieved to hear ‘smart’ as opposed to the ‘leash’ word earful. Good dog!
cry wolf
B.O.U.R.Girl screams for me from the wardrobe like the actress that she is, “there’s a b-b-b-bug!”. And yes, it’s a big dern cock-a-roach trying to blend with my maroon bath towel. I grab a hind leg with bare fingers only to lose the rest of the body into the shower mat below where it tries furiously to entrench and burro in. Gottcha, uh huh. I’m rewarded with a shot of stink and the creature rakes my finger with its other barbed leg but I cling and rush the perpetrator over to the toilet and bombs away. I had to wash hands (twice).
TMI
I didn’t exactly blush like a school girl but come-on. Our round table group in the employee break room latched onto family topic as we caught part of an TV ad about ‘4-D ultrasounds’. What ta heck is that and the FA (who just happens to be due) pipes up that she’d like one of those… I asked if she hadn’t had an ordinary 3-D and she gushed, “oh yes, you see I have a ‘tipped uterus’ and the baby’s heart beat was hard to hear the first week and…” I’m trying to keep my appetite while gulp down my soup and wonder where this is going. The FO next to me has a 3 year old and would like to have another. The FA’s turn again, “oh! are you guys trying?” —- oh puulease! Leave something to the imagination will ya?
due diligence
A pax thrust his upper torso through our office door to inquire “about the wx”. But what he was really here for was re-assurance and make sure that we weren’t some hiring quota or green behind the ears. He had white knuckles.
phunnyfwd
After sharing a rather harmless email funny fwd with the flower child, the other youngin’ appears with a printed copy of same. (guilty — I forwarded it). The jokes, “learn chinese in 5 min.” poke fun at the translation and you have to read them aloud. e.g. + Did you go to the beach? ……..Wai Yu So Tan + Your body odor is offensive …….Yu Stin Ki Pu + He’s cleaning his automobile ….. Wa Shing Ka.
Older sibling cautions younger sibling not to take those to school and young guy nods understanding. I realized that these kids have been fully indoctrinated on issues of racial sensitivities. Heck, when I was a school type we were just then getting the clue that laughing at black jokes was taboo. Italian and Pollack (er, uh — polish) jokes were okay though.
The topic dovetails nicely with my current nightstand read. (see my blog on Aug 31) In about 1860, Chinese peoples were performing nearly half of California’s low end menial jobs. Subsistence wage seasonal farming, ditch digging and railroad work. I remember my father showing me an early California livestock fence, constructed entirely of loose stone and rock. ‘The coolies built this…’. My book is giving me a flavor taste of what the climate was like. The economy or job employment at time was cyclically tough, as it is today. These laborers took the heat for it by whites and politians alike. They were recognized as a ‘problem’. I’m reading an excerpt from page 166 of an early Bureau of Labor Statistics report commissioned by the U.S. government circa 1883. The Chinese were thought to have been stealing jobs from whites, as they would eagerly work for less. The twisted logic of the author suggested: “Again, a protective tariff of the kind that I have referred to would affect the American laborer most beneficially. It would raise the Chinaman’s cost of living, thereby causing an increase in his pay, and in that manner the difference between the Mongolian’s and the white man’s wage would be lessened, and the latter would be the better able to compete with him.” (!)
Much of this kind of talk became actual law on the books. Witness: The Chinese Exclusion Actof 1892. The 1913 Alien Land Act. The 1922 Immigration Act. The verbiage contained therein is absolutely pathetic and unbelievable. It becomes clear why the backlash and furor over racial jokes and humor. Political types learned about 20 years ago that it is now political suicide to make raciest jokes in any context. This lesson has been passed on to our children. + That’s not right ……… Sum Ting Wong. + And yet, we still silently laugh at them, albeit with a tinge of guilt and remorse.