The Globe and Mail reports that a “small but determined group of computer geeks [is] trying to translate open-source software into African languages, in an effort to reach the continent most isolated by the digital divide.”
High Noon
“I can’t believe people are playing tennis at high noon,” my son says as we drive by the local courts.
“They’re building up their stamina,” I suggest.
“They’re getting skin cancer,” he replies.
“They’ll need stamina to battle the skin cancer.”
Jury Duty
I had jury duty last week. Jury duty is the worst thing in the world, except for maybe losing a limb.
Hu’s on First
Hu Becomes Undisputed Leader of China
I’m askin’ you who becomes undisputed leader of China . . .
A Lazy Sunday Afternoon
I’m stretched out on the sofa relaxing while my son walks around revved up from some computer game he’s been playing . . .
“You wanna battle me?” he shouts.
The Family Lawyer
It’s taking a long time for our beverages to arrive at El Cholo, one of our favorite dining establishments. (Try the Sonora-Style Enchilada.)
“The drinks are taking a long time,” my wife says.
“Yeah,” my son agrees. “Drinks are supposed to come fast. I’m going to file a complaint.”
“Who are you going to file a complaint with?” I ask.
“Grandma Sylvia . . . she’s a lawyer.”
Artistry
My son whips up a five-flavor Slurpee at 7-11. It’s very colorful.
“You’re a real artist,” I tell him.
“Slurpee-angelo,” he says.
I Feel Safer Already
Spirit-crushing foolishness from my candidate, John Kerry. The nation is trying to figure out how to fight global terrorism and he’s talking about having ‘not just a Department of Health and Human Services, but a Department of Wellness.’ How about a Department of F***ing Perspective?
Fishtailing
I didn’t get much sleep last night. This morning, I had a 32-ounce iced coffee on an empty stomach.
I’m fishtailing between nausea and euphoria . . .
The Blog of Anne Frank
. . . everything can be taken from a man except one thing: the last of the human freedoms–to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.
In spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.
On this date — September 2 — in 1944, Anne Frank was among 1,019 people on the 68th and last train from Holland to Auschwitz. Anne and others hiding with her had been betrayed and captured a month before and held in the Westerbork detention center.
Hollywood Confidential
Tom Cruise says wife number three has to be funny, honest
As opposed to the rest of us, who would be looking for humorless liars, if we weren’t still hanging in there with our first wives.
I ask you — who is stupider: Tom Cruise or the people whose job it is to follow him around and write this crap down?
What You Lookin’ At?
Interpretation of Dreams
I was looking for something in my son’s room this morning when he woke up saying, “Please stop it!” He didn’t seem to be really talking to me, so I said, “Did you have a dream?”
WIthout opening his eyes, he said, “Mom was shuffling her feet for an hour!”
More Evidence There Are Way Too Many TV Channels
I overhear my boy saying to the dog, “What’s your favorite TV show with a dog in it? Scooby-Doo? Huckleberry Hound?”
“Huckleberry Hound!?” I say. “Where did you ever hear of Huckleberry Hound?”
“It’s on Channel 348.”
Things That Might Have Been
I think about things that might have been and never were.
The treatise on Saxon myths that Bede omitted to write.
The inconceivable work that Dante may have glimpsed
As soon as he corrected the Comedy’s last verse.
History without two afternoons: that of the hemlock, that of the Cross.
History without Helen’s face.
Man without the eyes that have granted us the moon.
Over three Gettysburg days, the victory of the South.
The love we never shared.
The vast empire the Vikings declined to found.
The globe without the wheel, or without the rose.
John Donne’s judgment of Shakespeare.
The Unicorn’s other horn.
The fabled Irish bird which alights in two places at once.
The child I never had.
Instants
[Ed. Note: The unusual spellings are from the original source.]
If I could live again my life,
In the next – I’ll try,
– to make more mistakes,
I won’t try to be so perfect,
I’ll be more relaxed,
I’ll be more full – than I am now,
In fact, I’ll take fewer things seriously,
I’ll be less hygenic,
I’ll take more risks,
I’ll take more trips,
I’ll watch more sunsets,
I’ll climb more mountains,
I’ll swim more rivers,
I’ll go to more places – I’ve never been,
I’ll eat more ice creams and less (lime) beans,
I’ll have more real problems – and less imaginary ones, I was one of those people who live prudent and prolific lives – each minute of his life, Offcourse that I had moments of joy – but,
if I could go back I’ll try to have only good moments,If you don’t know – thats what life is made of,
Don’t lose the now!I was one of those who never goes anywhere without a thermometer, without a hot-water bottle,
and without an umberella and without a parachute,If I could live again – I will travel light,
If I could live again – I’ll try to work bare feet at the beginning of spring till the end of autumn, I’ll ride more carts,
I’ll watch more sunrises and play with more children,
If I have the life to live – but now I am 85, – and I know that I am dying …
That Explains It
Look Homeward, Angel
. . . a stone, a leaf, an unfound door; of a stone, a
leaf, a door. And of all the forgotten faces.Naked and alone we came into exile. In her dark womb we did not know our mother’s face; from the prison of her flesh have we come into the unspeakable and incommunicable prison of this earth.
Which of us has known his brother? Which of us has looked into his father’s heart?
Which of us has not remained forever prison-pent? Which of us is not forever a stranger and alone?O waste of loss, in the hot mazes, lost, among bright stars on this most weary unbright cinder, lost! Remembering speechlessly, we seek the great forgotten language, the lost lane-end into heaven, a stone, a leaf, an unfound door. Where? When?
O lost, and by the wind grieved ghost, come back again.
Right . . .
Mom Learns to Play Chess
She doesn’t have the patience for a full explanation of the rules, the pieces and how they move . . .
MOM: How do I win? I kill your king?
BOY: Mmmm . . . yes.
MOM: Which one is the king?
Man Plans, God Laughs
Man plans, God laughs.
A VP has asked me to review a Microsoft Project schedule printed out on 16 legal-size pages. The first thing that jumps out at me is that the level of detail in the schedule far exceeds the quality of information we have about the state of the world and the project at the future dates and times represented.
I don’t see how you can break tasks down to this level of detail, add in dependencies, and state that Task XYZ is going to start at 2 o’clock in the afternoon on some date 14 months from now.
And I would say that if the success of your project depends on your ability to forecast the future to that degree of precision, you are DOOMED from the outset . . .
Thus spoke The Programmer.