Forget what you’ve heard. The first executive order issued by Barack Obama was not to close GITMO or launch a new stimulus package. It was when he extended his hand out of reach of the shorter secret service agents, clutching his Blackberry as he cried, “From my cold, dead hand!”

It has now been reported that the new US president has won this little battle to keep his technology, along with a few restrictions towards its use and a few upgrades. Of course, what everyone else who owns one should be asking is, “Why can’t WE have a Blackberry fit for a president?”

If there are so many risks to the commander-in-chief having this device, what an opportunity for its makers to build one that’s virtually uncrackable! Crazy point-to-point encryption, true online stealth from triangulation location, and hells, make it bulletproof. If the leader of the free world can’t demand a cool and secure smart phone, what chance do mere mortal geeks have? And if they do make a phone fit for a president, can we have one, too?

Orignal From: The Ocrackberry: Fit for a President?

In my industry, bandwidth is everything. So what happens when a president elect as anticipated as Barack Obama takes the stage to accept his office in front of the most wired and ‘net-connected audience of all time in the middle of a work day?

IT specialists are scrambling to keep businesses running and servers up as they are begging their workers: “DO NOT stream the inauguration!!!” As the 13th best-wired country (according to Wired magazine), you’d think we have the infrastructure to support something like this, but we don’t.

See you at the aftermath!

Orignal From: If You Can Read This, The Inauguration is Over (or Hasn’t Begun)

In the morning on occasion, I listen to Neal Boortz on talk radio. The reason I listen periodically is two-fold: I’ve memorized the current rotation on all the radio stations I listen to and sometimes he mentions things going on I otherwise would never hear about through normal news channels.

This morning he was lamenting that the average American male was able to name the head coaches for their particular state’s beloved college football teams but couldn’t name their representative in Washington DC. I smiled because it was true, but I couldn’t help but wonder what the full implication of that would be… follow the train of thought!

Imagine the end of a long day, and the “average American male” is getting ready for bed. His beloved wife lays down beside him with bedroom eyes and says, “The children are asleep.” The American male then takes out a clipboard and netbook and asks her gently, “Have you looked over the dockets for tomorrow? We may need to send emails to our representatives to express our interests.” The wife laments but agrees, falling asleep as she makes notes about Net Neutrality and a bill for “bailout accountability.”

Thus the word of the day is “representative,” because while I may read up on how my favorite sports team is doing, the idea is that someone in Washington is supposed to be looking out for my interests. Not good enough? Sign up for emails to a watchdog group who looks out for how your representative is doing, but the entire idea behind sending someone you’ve elected as a “representative” kind of speaks volumes, doesn’t it? If not, shouldn’t someone (or something) better take its place?

Look at this another way. Do you know the name of your bank’s current CEO or President? Of your local branch? Don’t these people have control over your money? How about the name of you county tax assessor? Might be important at least once a year. From your local butcher to the person who fixes the television cable, knowing the names isn’t as important as knowing where to look and who to contact when something goes wrong. Politicians are doing a job just like all these other services are, but as a rule, they simply don’t rate as high on the “why should I know their name” scale as sports stars or film celebrities (well, except for Barack Obama, of course).

Three hundred million people cannot be pressed to vote on everything that passes through the legislative branch of the government, especially with any real understanding on every issue. But if a representative isn’t doing that job either, I believe there are procedures in place for that as well, and you can find the names of the ones responsible fairly quickly when the time comes.

In the meantime, how about those Cardinals, huh?

Orignal From: I Believe the Word You’re Looking for Is “Representative”

I don’t think anyone believes me when I say I’ve tried to avoid this. With my alter ego Grim D. Reaper (of MovieCrypt.com) now talking every other week on Parahub.org, it’s getting harder and harder to avoid speaking out about my interest in all things paranormal. The problem I have, however, is shared by the infamous Fox Mulder: “I want to believe.”

Most of the time I’m a lucid dreamer, even to the point of being able to stay asleep once I hijack a dream. On occasion, I have a dream that I cannot take control of nor make any sense out of, a series of images and sounds that look like snippets of more important things. Later on, I can almost always remember that, just before a moment of deja vu, what is about to happen was one of the snippets I saw.

So, I know there are things that are currently unexplained going on in our world, but my exposure to it has been mostly through trade reading and popular fiction. I almost always know the difference between researched paranormal activity (evidence of Wicca activity, ghost sightings, etc.) and when it makes sense only to the author or filmmakers. I openly challenge the notion that there is currently any relevant or scientifically accurate means with which to measure paranormal activity and produce consistent, repeatable results. From orbs in photographs visible only after development to EVP that only a handful of listeners can discern, the mystery that makes all these things interesting are the same that re-enforce the idea that it’s all mythology and a need to believe.

I thought long and hard as to what to rename this blog to reflect some of the things I intend to address here. Words like “heretic” and “skeptic” suggested that I had no belief, whereas neither “investigator” nor “authority” seemed realistic, either. I settled on “paranormal enthusiast” because, in my mind, it states my intent without making a direct judgment toward anyone in the field. I know more about these things than anyone not making a career of it should, and so I intend to share a greater portion of this site to my thoughts on the subject.

Or, put another way, ye have been warned.

Orignal From: Taking the Paranormal Plunge

Q. What do you call 47 millionaires sitting around a TV watching the Super Bowl?
A. The Jacksonville Jaguars!

Q. What do the Jacksonville Jaguars and Billy Graham have in common?
A. They both can make 70,000 people stand up and yell “Jesus Christ!”

Q. How do you keep a Jacksonville Jaguars out of your yard?
A. Put up a goal post.

Q. What do you call a Jacksonville Jaguar with a Super Bowl ring?
A. A thief.

Q. What’s the difference between the Jacksonville Jaguars and a dollar bill?
A. You can still get four quarters out of a dollar bill.

Q. What do the Jaguars and possums have in common?
A. Both play dead at home and get killed on the road!

Q. How many Jacksonville Jaguars does it take to win a Super Bowl?
A. Nobody knows and we may never find out!

Orignal From: Heart Attack Cats Humor!

Yikes! It’s been a while since I through out any musings here. Of course, it was my LAST year’s resolution to post more often, so this is really just an extension of it.

Okay, what’s up? I had a job offering from Rochester, New York that was for pretty good pay, but the recent resurgence of a steady relationship in my life (an a general lack of funds to move to the opposite end of the Eastern seaboard) made staying put a better option right at this moment. Too bad, too, because it looked like a great job, but it would also require a newer vehicle, full wardrobe, and moving into a place that I may not have anyone to fall back on once I get there should everything go south in a hurry.

I have a few conventions lined up again this year. One I’ll be crashing since they don’t like me pointing out how poorly they run things for as big as they are, and the other one I am a guest as well as a technical support guy for their website, so plenty to do there.

I’ve managed to crack out my first full-length and complete short story, and with the help of someone already familiar with peddling such texts to potential publishers, I’ll be shopping it around to start my rejection slip collection. Fortunately, I enjoyed the idea surrounding what I wrote the first time so much that another story is quickly emerging from the first.

Overall, not in too bad a place right now. Here’s to four more happy years (since the world is coming to an end in December of 2012).

Orignal From: 2008 Wrap Up

Here’s something I was recently reminded of: going out for a drink vs. going drinking.

As a creative self-starter, any time I take for myself is usually spent writing, creating, illustrating, or whatever. I can’t fathom doing something nonconstructive, so even when it comes time to relax, go out, or visit with friends, I’ve never understood the need to imbibe more alcohol than a brewery can churn out in week. Exaggeration aside, what makes someone desire to go out with the sole intent of getting hammered and playing a nightly game of “let’s see if I wake up in my own bed.”

Do I enjoy having a drink? Sure. I LOVE gin, especially a mixed as a Tom Collins (learned that one from my parents). I try to sample the Sangria at any restaurant that carries it (usually Mexican or Italian), there’s nothing quite so refreshing as a chilled pint of Woodchuck Amber hard cider on tap at your favorite English or Irish pub (especially if you’re in England or Ireland).

The two times I’ve been plastered was once in Spain at a “Medieval Times” type of theater that included a seven-course meal and all you could drink (which is how I learned to love my Sangria) and another time when I thought I’d try making my own Tom Collins (hint: always follow the instructions). Both times I was being chauffeured about and neither time did I intend to impair myself as much as I did. Fun? Yes. Hangover? No, but I was still in my twenties both times.

I didn’t like the feeling of being consciously aware there was nothing I could do but wait it out. Is the idea to drink so much you forget how much you’ve had? Does the “enhanced” fun begin before you can’t stand up or after your friends pose you on the couch and take pictures? Of course, then there are the “drinking games” so your friends can become the home entertainment system for everyone. And don’t get me started on the jungle juice incident at college when the entire floor of the dorm had a nice coat of fresh, pink vomit (and not just in the bathrooms stalls, either).

Woo hoo! Beer me, dude! Party on!

Orignal From: Going Out for a Drink vs. Going Drinking

First they tell me to bring in my skull collection, then they tell me not to. Fine, whatever, but since I actually have my own desk, it’s nice to have it looking like someplace familiar rather than another reminder that middle-class me works 40 hours a week for “the man.”

Since it’s no secret that I shoot my Reaper videos at home (yes, I have headstones on the wall for ambiance and other creepy things), I decided that, in the interest of giving management less ammunition, to go all science fiction:

I found a retro-looking, goose-neck, brushed-aluminum desk lap at Linens & Things (which are going out of business right now), and it reminded me of the Men in Black films, the sort of retro-tech look where everything is silvery and metallic. A couple of deeply discounted picture frames, blue party bulbs, and a few reconstructed black & white printouts of the MIB logo (the atomic symbol on the floor when Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones walk into the elevator), this was the result. I put a copy of the logo in the inset for detail.

Looks like those set dressing skills from college theater are still working, hmm?

Orignal From: Horror at Home, SciFi at Work

Recently, one of the few credit card accounts I’m still paying off suddenly jumped due dates to an earlier date, causing an automatic “late” fee of $35.00. When I called, they were only too happy to remove the charge and explained that the “billing cycle” had changed from 31 days to 23 days. Everything was okay, however, because they could also change it back. The explanation was something about the due date being X number of days after the bill went out, fine, okay, great, whatever.

Then, another card did the same thing a few weeks later. Huh? Calling the second card got me the same response and another refund, this time with an explanation that all store accounts owned by “whatever card” were doing this. Again the charge was reversed without further hassle, and the due date was changed back by whatever realignment was necessary.

It has become obvious to me that, in addition to incurring $70.00 in fees because someone in a glass tower said, “Hey, let’s do everything THIS way,” they would have been happy to keep those $35.00 charges if no one had called them. My question is, was generating and keeping fees the reason behind doing this in the first place?

This scam is almost exactly like those “purchase rebate” schemes. You buy at full price but will get money back (The more you spend, the more you SAVE!!!), but if you don’t send the rebate in or miss crossing a “t” or dotting an “i,” the card company keeps the money, which is how the rebate company who designed the program is paid (by hedging their bets that people, being people, will forget or not bother). Since rebates are on their way out (suckers have caught on), is calling in once a month and asking NOT to move our billing date the only way we can expect not to incur mystery fees (which, of course, still have to be resolved with another call?)

Is anyone else enjoying this new scheme besides middle-class me?

Orignal From: The Mysteriously Moving $35 Due Date…!

I grew up on fast food. I can’t eat it like I once did (or even want to), but there are certain tastes that I remember enjoying, like a Bic Mac or the “crumbs” at Long John Silver’s. In fact, I’m still patiently waiting for Taco Bell’s “Baja Blast” to make it onto store shelves so I don’t feel compelled to buy a Meximelt when I’m craving a drink. I also remember eating at places that no one believes ever existed. Anyone remember Borden Burger? Burger Chef (and Jeff)? Frankenburger?

Speaking of McRestaurants, I still reluctantly have an appetite for the occasional $1 Double Cheeseburger, which makes a nice, hot, quick snack lunch when a turkey sandwich leaves you cold. Up until now, it was part of the over-publicized “Dollar Value Menu,” but now there’s a NEW $1 sandwich: the $1McDouble, which is exactly like the Double Cheeseburger but with one less slice of cheese.

Now, you CAN still get a sandwich with both patties and two slice of cheese, but now it’ll cost you $1.19 and isn’t actually on the “Dollar Menu” anymore. That’s still a deal if you consider a regular Cheeseburger is 96 cents (Wow… a whole extra burger patty for 6 cents!) but it really doesn’t taste the same. Of course, you could always do what I do for those 2 for $2 breakfast sausage & egg biscuit sandwich deals at McD’s… bring your own slices of cheese to avoid being charged full price for a special order!

Well, why does McDonald’s put cheese on English muffins but not on their biscuit sandwiches, anyway? Isn’t it bad enough I can have a free coffee I don’t want with my breakfast or get charged an arm and leg for an orange juice? Plus, I live in Florida! Shouldn’t there be a tree out in front of the restaurant I can tap?

Uh oh… I think the souvenir cold I brought back from Thanksgiving vacation is affecting my brain. I could go for some Count Chocula, though… it turns milk chocolaty!

Orignal From: McHalf-the-Cheese, Please?