Poted by lex, on September 12, 2008
We seemed to have crossed some sort of visitor threshold in the last couple of weeks. Traffic rates of 1600-1700 hits per day went over the 2000 mark for several days in a row and have settled in at right about that number during work days.
What does that mean? Nothing really. We’re not taking on an airs or considering leasing office space. Just that you may see some new names in the comments boxes, people whom I ask you to to treat with our customary civility and grace.
Unless they immediately demonstrate themselves to be any of the usual brand of trolls, in which case I ask you to ignore them entirely. Paying them attention only enables their twisted psychopathies. They’ll be popping up making a nuisance of themselves all over the place.
We’ll have to spray.
Newer readers interested in naval aviation stories who have not plumbed the depths of the archives may find this short little story momentarily diverting.
Speaking of diversions, here’s a clever little site enabling the curious reader to determine whence his surname derives. So far it seems to be chiefly enabled for North America, Europe and India. Searching on the names “Lee” and “Kim” for example will turn up interestingly high densities in New Zealand, but not much in say, Korea, where I have been led to believe the names are not unknown.
Anybody else been playing around with Google’s Chrome browser? I’ve got it loaded on my laptop machine, and have to admit – as a veteran Firefox user and proponent – that I find Chrome quite attractive. Light weight, clean lines, quick loads and a couple of neat little features, including a “last pages viewed” on start up that includes screen shots, not to mention the ability to Google search right there in the menu bar. Clever.
When does it come out for Mac?
Which reminds me: One of the two best things about retiring from the Navy is being out from under the repressive boot of the NMCI regime. Want to install some bit of productivity software or try out a new browser? Fire away!
I realize that the Navy – as a very large enterprise with many, many young people, not all of whom can be trusted to always Do The Right Thing on a fully-burdened information systems architecture – has it’s own reasons for wanting to clap a stopper over those darned kids with their hijinks and shenanigans. But it is nice getting out fumunda.
What’s the other best thing? Validating.
What’s worse? Practically everything else.
Still: You’ve got to grow up some day.
Had to go into Balboa Naval Hospital yesterday to have a specialist look at something for me. A consequence of Irish heritage crossed with Key West sunshine, as it turns out. So remember your sunscreen, younker.
No big deal, nothing that couldn’t be treated with a few short blasts of cryogenically cold nitrogen, like. And the Nice Young Man that was our doctor even extended the courtesy of addressing us by our previous rank. While also bringing along a fetching young female internist of some twenty-odd summers for to watch him do his dirty.
So, into the wee, little office it was wherein the door was closed, a curtain pulled and the three of us forced into a kind of intimate proximity. Upon which point one of us was desired and required to strip hisself down to his knit cotton boxers. The better for to be closely surveyed over ever last square inch of flesh that might have had the reasonable expectation of exposure to the harsh over the years.
Setting there clad only in my austere dignity and those boxer shorts, professional hands did their diligence even as your correspondend found the moment right and proper to rehearse once again his understanding of the multiplication tables and state capitals. For we aren’t dead yet, nossir, and not by a long shot.
As for herself, she seemed cheerfully unmoved by the native splendor of a practically déshabillé naval retiree, defense consultant and part-time blogger from Southern California. For there are three stages in a man’s life:
- Young women find him mildly interesting.
- Young women find him mildly alarming.
- Young women find him entirely invisible.
And I gentle reader? I appear to be at full stage 3, selah.
Had an interesting conversation with my sister back east on the Sarah Palin choice. For background, she was the kind of kid that used to have explosive counter-culture arguments with my old man at the supper table back in the days of Viet Nam and Kent State, but who served as a candy striper for wounded vets at Walter Reed and once contemplated joining a convent prior going the other way, entering the real world and making a buck or two. Went from moderate left as a nobbut to moderately conservative as she started noticing how much more of her pay was taxed each time she earned a raise. Like many intelligent people of conscience do.
So I wasn’t very much surprised to find that she was not a particular fan of the governor from Alaska (this might have something to do with it). Who, after all, was rather a radical (rather than conservative) choice for vice presidential candidate. If you’re the kind of east coast lady who has spent most of her life inside the capital beltway and is given to pants suits rather than deer rifles. Who doesn’t really know who this is, This Person from out there, somewhere.
Which is to say that my sister – God bless her and keep her well – would probably be much more comfortable in a social setting with a Hillary Clinton (while disagreeing with everything she’s ever said or done) than she might be with Sarah Palin, an ideological soeur. Which I found interesting in a rather “immeasurable consequences” kind of way.
Going to fly tomorrow, at the new digs down Montgomery Field way, our previous operations having been rudely shoved out of Palomar by the hand of unkind fate, driven by the questionable desire – from a business standpoint – of making the latter into something of a business jet haven. I guess we’ll see.
The good news is that we’ll be earning our tips by breaking the surly bonds of earth once more, having taken a month or so off in a fruitless attempt to finish our thesis. The bad news is that we’ll be doing so from under the lateral limits of the Class B airspace, for a change. Which ought to be exciting.
Squawk 1200 and feign ignorance, says I. Both of which are well within my skill set, and the latter requiring scarcely any effort at all.
Have a great weekend!