Who Turned the Lights Out?

  Firstly, from the last post, it might seem that I hate kids.  Let me clarify that I do not hate kids.  I just hate bad parenting which creates out-of-control insane kids.  Moreso, I hate just bad parents, because they have clean-palate kids souls they ruin forever, and that makes me mad because it usually ends up badly, often involving voting for gay marriage-bama.  If Obama is pro same-sex marriage, then why isn't he married to a dude?  Just sayin'.  Sounds more like a political angle than anything else.

  So, this blog is about lights.  I like dim lights usually, unless I'm tryin' to find something or working on something real tiny (now allowing time for rude comments... and .. done).  If someone's in a dim room, I will respect the room occupier's wishes of a dim room.  If they wanted it illuminated to 90k lumens, they would have lit the couch on fire with phosphorus. 

  What bugs me is that often in social environs outside of my house, there are most who prefer dimness, especially in the space community.  Since there's no windows, the lack of fluorescence is nice on the eyes and a bit of a reprieve from the liquid crystal displays which can be happily turned down low (I hate it when people jack the BRIGHTNESS and CONTRAST to 100 to burn those puppies out fast, or TOUCH the screen a lot, your mouse-pointer will DO, chum, this isn't an iPad [swipe swipe smear greased]).  Bright "blaring" lights is like klaxon sirens to me.  It's nearly painful to endure violent, calm-disrupting lumen madness increases for NO GOOD REASON except the SELFISHNESS of the guy who just came in the busy, crowded room because he or she thinks it's better (usually to the malcontented groans of dozens).
  I'm not sure if they're taking some sort of fracked-up parenting role here.  I don't dig it.  Go away.  Why not politely ask if anyone's okay with more lights?  No.  It never happens anywhere.  At best, dissension has to occur, often repeatedly when they leave and/or return.  Eventually they'll GET it.  WE have good enough eyes to see things in calm, low-level lamp-light and don't need a SUPERNOVA to see my own hands typing.  Adds to stress, idiots.
  If you're one of those folks who do it and your excuse is, "Oh, well, people will fall asleep blah blah frack", no.  No no no.  YOU'RE the LOSER who can't stay awake.  Get some coffee and stop torturing everyone else for YOUR benefit because you're WEAK in body and spirit.  Get OVER yourself, loser.  You're not all important despite what schools now tell you.  You're not entitled or empowered for shite, and no one cares about you, not even God.  He told me.  So leave the room, and turn off the lights on your way out.

(On a Christian theme God may actually love you.. but only grudgingly, but He's mad you put all those lights on to bug people because you're a pathetic loser.  He made you that way so more people can look awesome).

Napkin Drama Quest

I ate at Bogey’s Eatery & Spirits today.  Nice joint, putting emphasis on East Coast dining without the ridiculous pretentiousness Colorado Springs offers, such as parsley garnish near a meatball sub.  Puh-leease!  The only garnish on a meatball sub should be the cheap no-name tinfoil holding the mess together.  Bogey’s fails at this halfway, and instead of a tinfoil garnish supplies a ceramic plate.  I’d be just as happy with a grease-and-sauce-soaked paper one that can’t hold up to its pinings, but whatever.

  Being in a low-carb diet session, I went for the Italian salad, which to my delight were the same ingredients of their very decent Italian sub with capicola and salami with premium provolone and other goodies.  My issue resides with the concern that in normal dining environs, you get a rolled knife and fork in a napkin, often fastened together by a paper ring, but no other napkin is offered.  I prefer heavy-heft flatware and Bogey’s delights to my satisfaction.  Upon dissecting the origami, I always give the flatware a place to rest: that rolled napkin seems logical and I’ve always done this; it’s proper.  Upon dining, however, eventually one must wipe one’s mug of a face and this is where the conundrum begins.  Now I have to evict the flatware from their homes like AIG and they’re forced to lie exposed on the wood (or worse still, laminated synthetica) of the table.  Food bits (if the items were used) are often dropped onto the table, making a mess.  I take pride in not being a filth pig-boy and leaving my table neat and tidy during and especially after my meal.  Parents will know that with kids this is nigh impossible as I’ve seen kids who’s heads should have been bashed-in at birth throwing everything every which way.

  Don’t take your brat-ling to a dining place except McDonald’s or Chucky Cheese if you have a vicious, mentally-ill child: it makes us uncomfortable, gives your wait-staff a nightmare cleanup afterwards and makes you look like you don’t have time to bring up your mistake-of-a-kid.  Try a condom next time.  If you need some, I’ll mail them to you Express Mail, or, if you can’t wait, turn the microwave up to 11 and stand in front of it, timer set to 99:99 and press-in the door latch button with a fork until something itches on the inside.  Train your kid!  Same goes for dog owners where the dog is insane and eats people and attacks cars and craps everywhere.  Stop.  You’re not responsible enough to have kids or dogs.

  Your kids are not cute.  No one thinks so.  Fix it.  NOW.  You’re too stupid to have guns too so send those in and lock yourself in a closet and pee yourself and dream of falling into the Arctic Ocean where King Crabs will eat your remains on the cold, cold, dark, hopeless bottom of dismal despair and crushing atmospheres of sadness.

  So I usually have to ask for another napkin at the annoyance of the busy waitstaff.  I don’t like to bother them, ever.  I was a waiter once and let me tell you it’s no picnic.  I know for sure my extra BBQ sauce is NOT the most important thing in the universe for them to fetch, and I rarely ask for it after-the-fact, nor do I fuss about ingredients accidentally added or forgotten.  I just open my horizons and try it differently.  Why not?   Yes, I’m a polite diner, quiet (yeah, I’m not the cackling drunk donkey-faced witch who drank too many Zombies with extra rum while cracking the nerves with her satanic laughter of those around her).  Normally I keep my boozing to a minimum at a dining experience.  I might have a whiskey (or a Canadian whisky) or a beer or a scotch (if they got something worthy for my liver to metabolize, which is rare).  One example of a whiskey failing was at an Irish pub who admitted they don’t have “high-end” stuff like Single Barrel Jack or Macallan anything which to me is a basic low-level requirement of any bar.  Their excuse is, “We’re more of a sports bar..” which I guess means, “We serve shit to dumb people at a 900% mark-up while they watch 32” HD TVs connected to a COAX cable into a low-def mid-90’s Dish Network 300-series box with the sound off, and oh-yeah, I can’t figure out how to put the closed-captioning on, so we serve Bud Light and also Bud.”).  Idiots.  That’s the last thing America needs anymore is another “Sports” bar (aka, cheap crap bar where losers go except for Pay Per View events).

  So I don’t like having to use my flatware’s home, and I don’t care for using my sleeve, pant-leg, or my neighbor diner’s panties if I can help it, or the restaurant’s curtains, or the owner’s fuzzy beard, though sometimes, with poor service.. I must.  Or should I bring my own?  Next time, I’ll bring my 1000 thread-count Egyptian Sateen bedsheet.. and some panties (just in case).

--Blog creating using my Magnavox Odyssey2 and 300 baud modem:

Alternate Worlds

  I've done so much in my Life so far (not to be confused with the poorly accepted MyLife website, which  is lame-o).  Some would say I've lived multiple lives, pre-USAF, USAF, and post-USAF.  One could even consider the prison that's school those 12 years of tedium (some of it was fun.. I liked coloring, and who knew how gosh-darn important typing class of all things would be out of all of it?!!!) 
  During my Space Command years and post-USAF Space years, each location is like an alternate world.

  It's like jumping through Space Timedoorways, each universe just a little bit .. off.  The term OPSCAP for most military means, "Operations Capability", generally stating the mission's ability to perform in idiot-light, RED, YELLOW, GREEN status.  Other worlds have other colors.  Some I've come across are:  WHITE, BROWN, BLACK, and BLACK-STRIPE.  I'm sure other places have other color conditions.  I think I single handedly created THREATCON ALPHA PLUS; in fact, I'm pretty certain of it, and it got adopted by the 21st Space Wing for a while until after 5 years it was realized it was a joke (though a clever one that I created that was Threatcon Alpha with Bravo conditions included).
  Each "world" has similar things, like apogee, commanding windows, vulnerabilities, etc.  Some have additional items like with geosynchronous satellites, there is no true apogee or perigee (there is, sort of, actually, unless it's geostationary as well, because they figure-eight naturally due to being off a bit, and then there's polar wobble and.. well, things get tricky and you have to apply bias to things to make them just tasty). 
  I see the same cardboard cut-outs of folks as well.  The same Toms and the same Jims.  Oh, sure, the names will change but the faces are identical, and often their dispositions as well.  Sometimes they're not, and it's scary when that happens, like an evil, mirror-universe version... a sort of "what if" event that soured them.  The opposite is also true, evil-ish Cardboards sometimes are quite nice and sweet.  Then there's the guys that embrace religion a little TOO much.  Those guys are all the same.  Missin' a few screws, I reckon, giving religion a bad name almost invariably, into child pornography (in a bad way), or things even more sinister, like getting-off while skinning live animals or enjoying American Idol without watching all 501 episodes of Chuck Berry's The Gong Show.  (same show, btw)
  I've got to the point where it doesn't bother me as much anymore, my Time Bandit-like travelling.  The giant head isn't pestering me to return some map as I gave it back long ago.  I'm just winging it, now.  Shrug.  Might be time I ramble-on from my current job to something else.  I seem to have mastered it pretty well to my satisfaction, and it's more computer-y than space-y, which is a shame, and I deal with computer nerds a lot more than space nerds.  Still, it ain't that bad, the job.  I might stagnate though.  You don't want to just sit in a place too  long.  It's not.. bard-ic.

  My quest for Whipped Cream was successful after traveling over hill and dale.  (Dale was quite non-plussed over being traveled over I do say).  It's getting late and I have to go to work a bit early.  The hotel is cold and nu-60's retro-futuristic which might have been cool in 2002 but it's cliche and sad now that they JUST put it all in recently such that I can still smell the carpet chemicals from the factory all fresh.  Blah.

  I was gonna put a lot of cool and clever links in this blog but, ah.... frag it.

  Oh, my website has a monthly gaming section now under GAMES (of course).  This month is Atari's Adventure which came out in 1979.  The version I posted only has Level 1 available, but I'll put a version that's got all 3.  The background was what I used to shove my BLOG in an iFrame but folks complained about it being cramped so the BLOG is now free to live on it's own, in it's own world.  Another World.

Ciao...