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Boy; sometimes you gotta shake your head and wonder, “what the hell were they thinking?”

Hey, check this out:

Well, I’m pissed off. A slow burn that started a couple weeks ago when I broke my laptop’s webserver after following a certain website’s “supported” directions for compiling GD support into my Apache installation, has developed into a bleeding ulcer after said website’s webmaster (and ALL of my MANY computer guru friends) have been unable to cleanse my system of the turds brought about by following these bogus motherfucking instructions.

Beep, beep, beep, beep, SLAM. Ten minutes later: beep beep beep SLAM.

Paris Hilton is rich. Heir to hundreds of millions of dollars, she’s got it made. Her naked body has also been observed by millions of people by now, jostling playfully on a hotel bed, engaged in a fairly lame sexual romp with her then-boyfriend.

Today, channel eleven is running the first-ever Odd Couple marathon. It started at noon, and goes till ten tonight. Odd Couple, Odd Couple, Odd Couple. Ten hours; twenty episodes. The bulk of the series (extra credit for those of you who get that reference [hint: it involves a bowler]).

Alton Brown, rest easy, my friend.

Pilots sometimes talk of smooth air as being “smooth as glass”, or “like glass”. Of course, the air is not smooth. It’s the ride that’s smooth. And when you take to the skies in something that weighs less than your car, a smooth ride is a welcome rarity.

Movable Type is the name of the wonderful software that generates most of the pages on my website. It is infinitely flexible and I have been meaning to experiment with it some more. Afraid to try anything drastic with my live site, I installed MT on my Powerbook several months ago and promptly forgot all about this project, distracted by one of the eight hundred other “projects” I have going at any given time.

Brenda & I watched this movie last night. Good. Watch.

I am worth $2,142,470.00; I am happy, because that’s a hell of a lot better than Henry Hill scored in the back of the restaurant while Paulie Cicero was frying some sausages in “Goodfellas”.

This afternoon I popped on the telly (sorry, I have BBC America on, and just watched “The Office”) and as it turns out, Channel Eleven was running “Rain Man”. This movie is a classic example of carriage. Dustin Hoffman is just so spectacularly good, you willingly submit to yet another bad performance by Tom Cruise so you can watch Dustin do his thing. But that’s not the point.

Have you seen this show The Office? I know it’s been around a while. I’ve been watching it a while; we get it on BBC America. During the first season the laughs came in fits and starts; it was like they were still working out the bugs. But man, the other night, I watched episode four of the second season, and I was literally crying. David Brent is such a good asshole it’s scary. BBC America reruns “The Office” two more times on Sunday evenings, and as a result I watched episode four, three times on Sunday – without regret. All day yesterday I had Tina Turner’s “Simply the Best” going through my head, with that image of Brent trotting out of the room at the end of his “motivational” speech, hat on backwards. I chuckled a few times during the day, just thinking about it (and that is what good comedy is all about).

Twenty six point two miles. 26.2. Twenty six, point two. Miles. The distance of a marathon. Long. Far. The New York City Marathon happened today, and my friend Chris ran in it, and collected her medal and space blanket about five hours later. To say I am impressed would be an understatement.

(noise, chatter…)

Here’s what happens when you get a bunch of lighting designers together to carve a pumpkin. Say hello to the Pumpkin Projector:

He bought me my first baseball mitt, and taught me to field grounders in a paved park in Parkchester, in the Bronx, NYC.

If you are not a Radiance/UNIX geek, you will not get this. There are like 200 people worldwide that will find this amusing. I love niche humor; it’s gonna be my new thing.

She told me, flat out. She flatly stated “You have no idea what the hell you are doing”, but I never heard her. Maybe it was the noise of the engine; maybe it was my unwarranted sense of pilot bravado, I don’t know. But yesterday Mother Nature was definitely telling me to stay on the ground and I didn’t listen. Shame on me.

Last night, I did some time traveling. I went back in time, to a period that predates cable television and the internet. Sorta like going to a bed & breakfast, it’s the kind of thing one can and should do from time to time, but in the middle of game six of the American League Championship Series is definitely not a time I would have selected for this little pastoral reprise, had it been up to me.