Sedona

Many more photos, and many more to come. Arizona is cool, even though it's supposed to hit 106 tomorrow. (Yikes!)

Verbal Sequence - Not A Real Thought

Ever read the fine print on a commercial? I don't mean the paragraph of crap at the end of a car commercial, I mean the disclaimer-type stuff that's there when the commercial starts. For example, I saw a car commercial yesterday. (For the shoeboxy Scion, I believe.) It showed the wee bitty car, then the car getting hit by lightning and changing colors, followed by another bolt that turned into a robot. Something like that, anyway. In another, the teeny car is ingested by a large, red, very sketchy bulldog. At the bottom of the screen were the words: "Animation sequence - not a real car." Really? You mean my car won't turn funky colors (other than "scorched black") if it gets hit by lightning, and I don't have to live in terror of gigantic animated canines eating me and my car? Phew! That was close!

Are people really that stupid now? Do they expect to go outside and see lightning-born robots coming up out of the ground, and giant poorly-animated creatures running around just because they saw it on television? Will people really sue the car company if lightning doesn't turn their car a funky blue, or fails to attract Clifford? Is that why reality TV is so popular? People don't have to tear asunder that veil that separates fantasy from reality. It's all "real"! I guess the next step will be a similar disclaimer stamped on every frame of every movie. "Ewok sequence - not a real downfall of any Empire", "Underwater sequence - not a real Black Lagoon", "Actors in costume - not a real planet of apes"... so many possibilities, so little sense.

Grey Void Fill

I found a grey hair today. "But Wontar," you say, "you're bald! Your head is all stubbly-shaven, and you look like a roll-on." That is correct, but my chin is not bald. So, not only did I get to go prematurely bald, I get to go prematurely grey. This can mean only one thing: when my beard goes fully grey, I get to grow it all long and scraggly like a wizard. Then I can finally walk around with my big pointy hat, slam my walking stick on the ground, and tell people they cannot pass! I may have to run out and get some hair dye just to speed up the process.

In unrelated news, we've been availing ourselves of the exceptionally cool freecycle.org. Today, we got about ten cubic feet of styrofoam packing peanuts. In metric terms, that equates to a big-ass box full. When you consider that seven cubic feet goes for about $40, that's a pretty cool thing to get for free. Very handy for the eBay stuff, and handy for packing for our impending move. I think we'll soon be down to whatever we can strap on our backs and/or lash to the car. We're getting pretty damned efficient with this whole moving thing.

Like It's Not Hot Enough?

I was looking out our sliding glass kitchen door today at about 10 A.M., and saw what looked like a large dust storm in the mountains. We have a dust storm warning in effect, and we've had some really spectacularly large storms here, so it was logical at the time. I grabbed my camera and snapped a picture:

However, as I watched the storm the slow-to-acclimatize brain cells in my head said: "That doesn't look like a dust storm." So I continued to look, and the brain continued to churn. I came to the painfully slow realization that I was staring at not a dust storm, but a forest fire. Or "mountain fire", to be technically accurate. Deb agreed with me, so I marked the day on the calendar for future reference, then we leapt into action!

I got on the phone. Yes, you read that correctly. I actually picked up the phone and initiated a call to a non-family member. That's two marks on the ol' calendar.

The number we found for the first fire department offered a busy signal. I don't know about you, but there's no fire department anywhere that should ever, ever, ever have a busy signal. Ever. Glad that I was not currently on fire, I called another fire department. I was transferred once, and it seems that I was the first to report the fire. So I've earned my Smokey the Bear badge or whatever. The fire which now looked something like this:

I was told they'd send someone right out. In my mind, that meant helicopters and all sorts of sirens and stuff. As of now, two hours later, we've neither seen nor heard a thing in the form of fire-prevention-type stuff. Yes, wildfires are natural, and even necessary at times. But when it hasn't rained since August, "wildfire" is a pretty scary concept to me and shouldn't be left unattended.

Now, I'm off to watch the news. If anything changes, I'll update the post.

-Update- Well, we're still here. Never saw a single helicopter or fire-related vehicle or person, but it's out. If I were to guess, I'd say that the strong winds actually blew the fire back on itself until it had nothing left to consume. Either that, or there were firefighters up there that I just couldn't see. In any event, no more smoke, no more fire.

Wingspan

They're Baaaaack!

Yeah, TIGTA is back. Still don't know why, but at least they're consistent in wasting our taxpayer dollars. That's good to know, I guess. And yes, I post about it so they know I know. That's a nice, paranoid-sounding sentence, but I put it out there anyway. You'd think a letter from a Senator would make them stop, but I guess I'm just too damn popular. You know... if you like my stuff so much, the least you could do is buy a T-shirt or something. I mean, if you're so intent on wasting government funds, at least get serious about it! Get a couple of colorful canvases to put up in your cubicle, a mug for your coffee, a tile to use as a coaster for the mug, a mouse pad, clock, and calendar! Go to town, man! Order in bulk for your next softball game or whatever it is that you do. (Bowling, full-contact badminton, lawn dart catching, whatever.)

So... until you stop wasting money, I'm going to keep tilting at this particular windmill. I'm good at that. No matter how you slice it, you're wrong to continue to do the exact opposite of what your mission statement claims.

The Treasury Inspector General for Tax Administration (TIGTA) was established under the IRS Restructuring and Reform Act of 1998 to provide independent oversight of IRS activities. TIGTA promotes the economy, efficiency, and effectiveness in the administration of the internal revenue laws. It is also committed to the prevention and detection of fraud, waste, and abuse within the IRS and related entities.

Lunch Date

Deb and I went on a date today. Something every couple should do now and then. We went out to lunch, and then actually saw a movie in one of them there moving picture theaters. (We haven't been to a theater since "Return of the King" was out.) (No, I'm not kidding.) Lunch was OK. Just "OK". Mainly because the place we visited just changed its menu and got rid of a bunch of stuff we actually liked. Bummer. The movie was what you'd expect us to see for an afternoon's post-eating entertainment: Silent Hill. Nothing helps the digestion better than a spooky gore-fest! Neither of us had ever played the game on which the film was based. We just went because it looked icky and creepy. It didn't disappoint in that regard. Or any regard, really. Great special effects, an actual plot, and buckets of blood. The ending was a tad ambiguous, (Remember Tad Ambiguous? Played varsity football in high school, C student...) but all in all it was worth the price of a matinee. As opposed to the price of a manatee, which is just not fair to the placid sea cow and its sense of self-worth.

I Learned Something Today

I learned that no matter how calm my voice, no matter how expressionless my demeanor, no matter how I assure my wife that there's absolutely no reason whatsoever to panic... the phrase "Get me the fire extinguisher" just pushes all that calming stuff right out the window.

We were having some friends over for a BBQ today. They had not yet arrived, and I went outside and started the grill. It's electric (boogie woogie), and all I had to do was plug it in and turn up the temperature setting. No lighter fluid, no flames, just the magic that is a heating element. At least, that's what's supposed to happen. Seems that there was some grease in there that got just a tad bit too hot, and decided to burst into flames. To say that it produced a little smoke would be equivalent to say that the ocean is somewhat damp. The BBQ has a lid which significantly cut down on the amount of oxygen the fire was getting. The only bad thing is that there are holes elsewhere that let enough air get in to keep the fire burning. (Stop singing.) The smoke kept billowing, the fire kept going, so I calmly asked my lovely wife to please remain calm and to get the fire extinguisher for me. "What?!?!?" Please dear, just calmly and sedately obtain the fire extinguisher for me. "Why?!?!? What?!?!? What's wrong?!?!?!" She was in 'action mode', weight shifted to the balls of her feet, ready to leap in whatever direction necessary to confront/flee from the danger, eyes darting, nose testing the air for telltale signs of burned flesh and/or wood.

"Just get the damn fire extinguisher!", says the coughing husband, all calmness gone as smoke blows around him like a friggin' London fog. (Yes, a rain coat.)

Leaping with catlike agility, she grabbed the fire extinguisher, threw it up in the air in a graceful arc, did a forward one-handed handspring into a double somersault ending in a split, caught the fire extinguisher, then handed it to me. I stopped for a moment to applaud her flair for the dramatic, pulled the pin off of the extinguisher, and took off the BBQ lid.

Those of you who are still reading might stop here and say "But Wontar, we all saw that fine Ron Howard movie 'Backdraft', and we know what happens when you suddenly introduce a whole lotta oxygen to a smoky fire!" Yep. A quick burst of flames neatly singed some of the more flammable hairs on my left arm, and also released some nice thick smoke into my face. Yummy!

One quick blast of the fire extinguisher, and it was all over. Well, the fire was out. The smoke lingered for a while.

The hamburgers had a strange taste. Not sure why. No no no... we cooked them in the toaster oven. The BBQ is officially out of service, Deb has calmed down, and I still smell like a briquet. So pretty much back to normal here.

I Blame My Parents

We were waiting in line at the bank today. A man was at the ATM performing a transaction. (No, not "ATM machine"! If you say "ATM machine" please remove your own tongue. Thanks!) While performing the transaction, his cell phone rang. He answered it, took his money out of the machine, and walked away. Five seconds later, the ATM beeped. The screen read: "Would you like to perform another transaction?" I sighed, hit the "No" key, and out popped the man's ATM card. Then yours truly tore out of the place to catch the guy and give him his card back. It was 97 friggin degrees today, and I'm running in a parking lot in the middle of the day? What the hell is wrong with me?

Just one more reason why cell phones are bad. If the decision ever needs to be made between "answer cell phone" and "let strangers take all of my money out of my bank account", the cell phone should lose every time. Unless, of course, your bank account has less in it than it'd cost to get a new cell phone.

So... thank mom and dad! If not for your upbringing, Deb and I could've absconded with ill-gotten booty today!

One For My Unwelcome Guests

My apologies to my friends and family. This one is just for those who continue to waste our money by wasting their time browsing my site every damn day. They spend more time trying to hide the fact that they're visiting than actually doing what they're supposed to do. Way to combat the waste!

Releasing The Inner Demon

I made an image with the new version of Apophysis. When I rendered it, I didn't uncheck the "transparency" box, and it came out quite different than my original image. I tried getting the colors back, and... things... started happening to the image which took me in an entirely different direction. For example, I couldn't see that human figure in the yellow oval in the original. Plain ol' wasn't there. Sometimes, mistakes turn out better than the original intent.

Gasp

Radiant Pool

Year One

It's been one full year since I resigned. One year since:

* I had to take sleeping pills in order to get any sort of sleep.
* I took at least six Advil a day, every day, just to get through the day. (And all the lovely side effects that went along with that.)
* I had to repeat the same instructions to the same people over and over and over again because they couldn't be bothered to read/remember/write things down.
* I've had to solve the problems of other people.
* I've had a line of people with questions going out of my office while another person is asking me a question on the phone and another is asking me a question by e-mail.
* I've heard my blood thundering in my head as my blood pressure skyrocketed because of the unspeakable stupidity unveiling itself before my eyes.
* I've had to wait 12 hours to go to the damn bathroom.
* I've had an alarm clock wake me up just as I was falling asleep.
* I've encountered people who treat computers the way most people would treat an alien seed pod. (Poke it with a stick or run away screaming in terror. Or both.)

Strangely enough, I miss none of those things. I do miss some of the people, though, and I wish for them to have better luck with and/or tolerance of that place.

As for me now... I get to wake up naturally and look out at mountains. I rarely wear pants (shorts, people, shorts!), and I only get headaches once a month or so. (That's a brazillion times better than feeling like your head is in a vise every damn day.)

I wouldn't trade this year for anything. (Well, maybe a winning lottery ticket or something.)

Irony Bored

I've been angry for the last couple days. If you're an American taxpayer, you'll be angry after you finish reading this. Almost one year ago, I started receiving hits on my website from within the confines of my former employer. I complained to the organization whose job it is to stop "fraud, waste, and abuse" of government funds. I assumed, quite incorrectly, that they'd do something about it. The hits started again. I complained again, and I asked that this follow-up be associated with my previous ticket open with them.

The response I received, in its entirety: “What type of ticket do you have open? Who is it open with? What is a ticket?”

Expletives abounded after reading that response, but my vocabulary kicked in and I responded. In that response, I asked to be contacted in writing. I specifically requested not to be called.

I was called the next day.

I did not speak to the person on the phone. There is no record of what is said in a phone conversation unless it is recorded. I want written words, and I don't think that's an outlandish request. Send me a letter, apologize, and say it'll never happen again. I'll be happy with that.

After two more months of silence, I wrote a letter. It was seven pages long, went to a few senators and a couple governmental bigwigs. It seems that the letter has filtered its way down, because for the last two days I've had a governmental visitor for great swaths of time. Visiting every single link on my blog, and every line of comments.

This makes me laugh, because my complaint was that government employees aren't supposed to be surfing websites while they're at work. They're supposed to be *gasp* working! (That's how utterly radical I am.) The only sites they're supposed to view are those with a legitimate business purpose. This blog certainly does not fit that bill. There are far better ways for my tax dollars to be spent than to have people looking at blogs, don't you think? Look at it this way... at a conservative estimate, the person who was looking at my site for the past two days makes $18 an hour. (They probably make much more.) Yesterday they visited for a little over five hours, which equates to $90. That's ninety dollars to look at pictures I made, fractals, and a picture of me at four years old in a bathrobe.

I guess that makes sense. I mean, it's not like the deficit is at record high levels or anything. We've got money to burn! Rack up those blogexplosion and blogmad credits, folks! A tax hike is more than justified to pay for your surfing habit!

It's just high irony that the department charged with stopping governmental waste is now more guilty of wasting funds than the place that sparked my original complaint. Good job!

For those of you saying "so what?", think about this. This is $90 that I know about. So, if just one person wastes 5 hours a day, every day, that adds up to $32,850 wasted per year. If you think there's just one person doing this, I'd like to sell you some oceanview property in Colorado. Cheap.

My message to my new fans? Keep right on visiting! My logs will keep recording it, and it's more proof of how much money you're costing the government. Thank you for providing more fodder for my next letter. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the pics and the stories! Oh, and if you'd bother to fix the firewall like I said, this post wouldn't even be here! Fun!

*Update* - Hi again! Keep wasting those tax dollars! Oh, and nice job trying to hide. "Anonymouse.org"? I appreciate the entertainment. And what the hell do you keep looking at my profile for? It's changed maybe twice in two years. You expect it to change on a daily basis? Sheesh.

Ex Nihilo

Learned Man of Leisure

My father sent me a bunch of scans of old photographs today. I like this one for several reasons. First, it shows how disproportionately huge my head is. That probably explains my posture in the picture. Way, way too much effort expended in keeping gravity at bay.

Second, I'm reading. Don't be fooled by the pictures on the pages. There are words there, and I started reading words at age two. Luckily, my comprehension kept increasing as I got older.

Third, I'm wearing a stylin' robe. If I remember correctly, it had a little Winnie the Pooh on the breast pocket. Even then, I had discriminating tastes. All I really need to complete the outfit is a snifter of brandy. Or a snifter of Kool-Aid, I guess. And a bubble gum cigar.

April Is A Tricky Month

March 31, 1999: I came home from work to find my apartment burned down. (Insurance? What insurance?) Wore the same clothes for a few days, and couldn't get away from the smell of smoke. (Even though it probably only existed in my mind.) Learned that life wasn't about material possessions. (Though I did spend many, many hours cleaning and repairing my computer! Possessions are one thing, my computer is sacred!)

March 31, 2005: We decided to resign and move to Arizona, leaving behind stable (though monstrously aggravating) jobs, friends, friends who are family (not "like family", but family, dammit), and family. Learned that if I had kept on the way I was going, I was on the fast track to a heart attack/stroke/brain implosion/Advil OD. I was living for work, and so was Deb, and there was no end in sight. Or so we thought.

March 31, 2006: Wontar hides under the bed, unsure as to whether the life-changing cycle will stick to its six year pattern or not.

Moon Bathing

Give 'Em the Old Razzle Zazzle

I've discovered something cool, and I'm sharing it with you for my own financial gain. (Hey, I'm honest.) There's a nifty site called Zazzle that lets you upload images to create T-shirts, posters, cards and whatnot. Yeah, I know. Sounds like CafePress, right? Not exactly. The cool thing about Zazzle is that if you as a buyer see an image that you like, but think it'd look better on a red shirt than a blue one, you get to customize it yourself. If you see a poster that would be perfect if only it were in a different size, you can make it a different size. That's pretty nifty.

I'm adding stuff to my Zazzle site as I type. If you want to see an image of mine on something, let me know.