Episode 10: Obsolescence

You've seen them on TV during movies like Interview With The Vampire or Law And Order. The accused sits at some table in the "interview" room. The two detectives walk in and what happens? They always press two buttons.

It sits there on the table like the elephant in the room that no one wants to talk about...ever.

It sits there with a big window...and an even bigger speaker. What you see in the window are two small sprockets turning. One dark area shrinks as one grows. It's big enough to fit into a briefcase but not small enough to fit into a pocket.

If you have the image of a full-sized desktop tape recorder, you'd have it right. In The Church's hallowed halls today, one of those was launched.

Understand, I can take launching digital voice recorders that are slightly expensive. I can take launching microcassette recorders next to them or even the Walkman-style full-size cassette recorders but when faced with these relics, I simply could not believe that these things were still being mass produced.

I looked at them in wonder. I wondered who actually still used these things as limited as the storage capacity is. A digital voice recorder can take nearly hundreds of hours of recording seamlessly where you'd have to have a mountain of tape in order to accomplish the same end. A digital recorder will also allow you to index for later translation to CD which has a longer shelf life. They're also small enough to be fit into a pocket without much of a footprint.

I suppose that there are those who would prefer to go a little old school.

Me, I'm off to continue my world tour. Dead Man Walking just got their own jet to live their debauched little hearts in luxury.

Episode 9: Rock All Over Ya

New problem with the truck, it will cost me a little more but the destruction caused actually saved my ass. It was only by the grace of God that I got here and the Angel sitting where all my shit was piled into my passenger seat kept me on the road and out of a hospital or the grave...which is definitely where I would have ended up.

"I kept wondering how the hell that wheel stayed on," Al said, "Then John pulled your right side apart and there it was...the whole spindle had mushroomed to keep the bearing on."

Again, I felt the blood leave my brain and my heart drop into my ass. To think that the whole goddamned thing could come apart was too much to bear. I needed to sit down. Imagine, if you will, flying down the road with Van Halen playing and then CLANK, SCRAPE BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOOMBOOOM! FUCK YOU and it all goes away. Me, in the middle of fucking nowhere and busted up, bleeding, nowhere to turn, no one on which to call for for help. I'd have never made it. Night City would have been without my ass. The destruction of my spindle saved my life.

As I talked with my mechanic, I put forth my "crazy" idea to complete an A.I. Project for the truck, what unsettled me most was that he didn't write me off, he didn't call me or the idea crazy, he actually had a way that it could physically be done and proposed that I go for the five million dollar purse that our government offers to complete an off-road navigation challenge. That sounds vaguely like the DARPA (Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency) Off-Road Challenge that I'd heard so much about. If Pearl goes the way I hope that she does, I'll definitely go for it. Five million and alls I gotta do is drive. Fuck, just give me that chance.

Pearl should be done by Friday. I can't wait to see how she handles once the suspension/shock work is done.

Now, on to the gaming front. The new PSP's really kicking ass. Now all I need is that damn Skype headset and I'll be able to make calls from it. Now, check this out. Let's take a little trip into another world...

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Boston, Massachusetts

Dead Man Walking took the stage. Steven 5 sported his new fauxhawk and strapped on his new Jackson Bass. Rikki Roxxorz had ditched the Nikki Sixx hair in favor of leaving it hanging in it's natural waves and took his seat behind the drums wearing skellies that made him look more like a member of the Misfits. Jon Black took his mic from the micstand and stood there, ready for the music to start and Angela Lockwood had lightly strummed a chord from her Jackson King V.

Then, it started. Steven 5 opened with the bass solo to Bon Jovi's Livin' On A Prayer as Rikki lightly tapped a beat. Angela opened up with her guitar riff as Rikki jumped into a beat that pounded of raw power that was to come and then Jonathan started to sing in none other than Jon Bon Jovi's voice.

(Look everyone, it's Rock Band, the game. You can create the band but the problem is you can't control their sound. Jon's even had the voice of Michael Jackson as a child singing with The Jackson Five. It's a New Jersey Thing, fuggedaboudit)

Each time the song built up, Dead Man Walking's flawless playing kicked the whole song into overdrive. The fans cheered and the heat was turned up. Each throbbing bassline was pronounced, each of Rikki's punishing beat blasted and each of Angela's chords became blistering. Then, as it's crescendo was reached, the band kicked it into overdrive again, their energy undying.

"Oooooooh we gotta hold on," Jon sang as the final buildup came after Angela's perfect solo, "Ready or not...you live for the fight when that's all that you've got!"

Then, the overdrive kicked in with explosive fury and Jon howled into the mic as though the music wasn't loud enough to hear of Tommy and Gina's plight. He wanted the pain to be felt and sympathized with. He wanted everyone to know the story of two people living in tough times. He wanted all of us to know...that we weren't alone.

Whooooooooooooooooa, we're halfway there
WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOA-OH LIIIIVIN' ON A PRAYER,
TAKE MY HAND AND WE'LL MAKE I SWEAR,
WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOA-OH LIIIIIVIN' ON A PRAYER

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOA WE'RE...

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Right there, in Dead Man Walking's most perfect moment...the FUCKING BATTERY ON THE PSP DIED!

I wanted to howl and shake my fist at the gods for doing this to me. HOW FUCKING DARE YOU! A great rock anthem like that that remains poignant to this day and you couldn't wait until it was finished and the autosave kicked in! YOU BASTARDS!

I couldn't believe it. I have never done this well and the fucking battery had to go right there at the high point of the song. If my percentages get fucked, I'm gonna hit GameStop to snag a Pandora battery pack for this bad boy. It's disgraceful and sick to die in the middle of a song like that. Fuckin' emo battery.

In other gaming news, I got back one of my most beloved games...Wipeout: Pure. This game is the best racing game on the market. If you have a gaming system and you remotely like racing games, get this one, fly right and you'll end up in some type of cybernetic ecstacy. Then, I went a little old school and snagged a copy of Midway Arcade Treasures. This disc has about 20 older Midway Arcade games including Paperboy, Rampart, Rampage, Xenophobe, and Mortal Kombat 1, 2 and 3.

Imagine that, me in arcade Nirvana. Not bad if I do say so myself. Although I did find out how rusty I am at Mortal Kombat today...as ashamed as I am to admit that, I did better at Spy Hunter than I did Mortal Kombat.

Anyway, I'm outta here. Once my battery is recharged I'm going to see if I can't finish out the set and get my Merch Girl hired. I got a band that needs money to tour.

Episode 8: Another Pothole In The Road...

I never have a complaint when it comes to transportation. I've taken it all. Cars that have no shocks, buses, planes, motorcycles...name a mode of transportation other than a pocket rocket and I've probably been on it. Space has been limited on some, on others, too much space but the one thing that I've never done is complain about it. Talked about it, sure, but never complained.

Pearl's been a great truck since I got her. She's been nothing less than a little powerhouse. The only problem that I've ever had with her is that some parts needed to be replaced from time to time. She was low-maintenance and when it came to Nissan Hardbody pickups, she followed the Indestructible model set forth for them all. I feel extremely blessed to have had her in my life. She's hauled stuff for me and even got me here where I never thought I'd go and, all the while, her speakers resonated with songs that were very near and dear to me.

I saw potential in her that I'd never seen in any vehicle I'd ever driven or owned. Pearl was going to sport an onboard A.I. at some point with a killer display of Kathy Ireland on a pop-up monitor to tell me in a very sweet voice when something needed repair or even give me that warm smile when I told her to just get me home and set the thing to autopilot.

Today dashed those hopes...temporarily. See, I'd scheduled an oil change and engine service for her at the local autoshop. I'd been a little worried about the suspension since the move. She worked harder than a hundred pack mules out of Mexico to get me here and I hadn't had the chance to properly give her the royal treatment as I'd been meaning to. For fact's sake, our relationship had been strained. I hadn't driven her except where I absolutely needed her and I secretly felt as though I'd neglected her, so I told Al The Mechanic to go ahead, check the shocks and suspension and see what, if anything was wrong.

We got the call this morning. I'd dropped her off the night before and left the key and hotfooted it home. I thought for certain that nothing could be that wrong until I got the call. The brakes were okay. The service had gone without a hitch but the shocks were damp, the CV boots were shredded, the wheel bearings needed replacing and packing and the suspension had so much play that there was no possible way that it would have passed inspection without repairing it first.

Ouch.

What made it worse...it would cost over Three Grand to fix it.

I wanted to cry. I'd put her through hell and now, she was paying the price. She was a rolling roadhazard and I didn't even know it. I thought that maybe that heavy load of my decimated possessions had caused this but the pressure from the load had actually helped keep it all in check. I felt like the lowest form of life on the planet for having done all this running with her.

So now, she's in the shop, still sitting there in the lot with her elegant and tough posture but I know that underneath it all, she's hurting and it kills me to see her in that state. At present, I have no clue as to how she'll handle the work. I'm hoping that, when it's over, she'll roll along like a brand-new truck off the lot. I won't really set my goals that high but I know she needs it.

I can already hear the cries of "Just Get A New Truck!" as I write this but understand, after all this truck has done for me, there's no way I can do that. It just wouldn't be right. I bought and paid for this truck when I left Louisiana. It's the first vehicle that I've owned that didn't just cut and run on me when the going got tough. She toughed it out for me and to bail on her now would be the worst thing I could do. It's not even an option.

Think back to your first car. It was in your name. You kept it up. You got into that thing and headed out on the open road to Destination: Anywhere and it didn't matter where you went or what you did, you just did it. When push came to shove, that vehicle was there and when it finally went, you felt like a part of you died with it. It wasn't just losing a car or a truck...that was the loss of a family member. So you did what you dreaded doing...you got a new one. It took some getting used to but you did and then, you formed yet another relationship but you'll never forget that first, will you? It's just not the same. It never will be. There will always be that void deep down inside and no matter how new of a model you get, it's just not the car with which you'd started.

Speaking of Mechanical Things, my PSP developed some spots on the screen recently that I can't get rid of. I ended up shelling out for a new one...the slimmer model that came with the game Rock Band and the movie School of Rock. Let me tell you something about Rock Band. I suck at Guitar Hero but you Guitar Hero Yayhoos have it friggin' easy as hell. You only need to be one member of the band. Me? I have to be all four, so the next time you start blabbin about your damn scores at me, expect me to pull some ballcrushing bragging. You have one position, I have all positions and until you can top that, screw your fake Les Paul. It didn't impress me then and it doesn't impress me now. I also actually play a real guitar so get some motivation and we'll speak about it then, kthnxbye.

Episode 7: One Night At The Atlantic

Welcome to the Atlantic Ocean. This is where part of the lost continent of Lemuria was submerged. What you see behind me is the final resting place of Atlantis, hence, the name of this particular bathtub behind me. The sky wasn't pretty that day, but that still didn't stop me from enjoying it.



Would you believe that there was some loony fuck actually FISHING off of that jetty? I'm not kidding. He'd asked me not to photograph him so I had to crop him out in the viewfinder of the camera.





Keep in mind, we're both wearing hoodies and shorts. Most would think that there was something wrong with that picture but, then again, try telling all the other loony people there that...for some reason, it's the style. We had a blast even with the wind coming off of the ocean. No pun intended









Night falling on the beach...the whole damn boardwalk just lit the hell up and it was beautiful.



Keep in mind, I'm used to concrete jungle and urban Sprawl...I have never walked in sand and my apologies to Johnny Depp for laughing about the way he walked in Pirates of The Caribbean



I could only walk so far and then I ditched my surf shoes, and dropped the camera equipment and my ass on the sand. My eyes are squinting from the wind blasting the hell out of me.



I thought this was one of the best pics I've ever taken. Period.





These pictures were actually not taken by me. Some boardwalk hand actually just hit the button twice and we didn't have anyone posing with us so we figured...what the hell?

My new camcorder's battery died on the beach in mid film. On top of that, there's still a helluva latency issue between the synchronization of the sound and video. Right now, I'm still shooting some shit and I'll end up editing it all down on the laptop for a big video later.

Episode 6: Indestructible 2.0 (Inside The Fire Again)

The source of my suffering has changed. Don't get me wrong, the new job has been pretty awesome...with one exception...my feet.

See, it started out like anything else. I'd report for work, do my job and the dress shoes I have to wear would eventually cause the soles of my feet to ache. I always thought my feet had lost their conditioning from when I worked in Louisiana. I'd stand on my feet and walk for up to 12 hours per shift but, now, things were different. After only eight hours here and there, though...the pain in my feet simply intensified.

I'd wondered why this was happening to me. I'd pondered possible medical reasons but put them out of my head just as quickly. I figured that it was just like the Nike ads promised...it's gotta be the shoes.

I tried padded insoles and they only smashed my feet and made the pain so intolerable that I literally took them off during work several times when no one was looking. I ended up taking the inserts out and wearing my shoes a little loosely. That helped but only to a degree. Finally, I bit the bullet...I was just going to have to get new shoes. I grabbed some Dr. Scholl's shoes at WalMart and put the padded insoles into them. It worked like a charm. They're still not as comfy as the SWAT Team style boots that I love but they're much better than hard soles on a hard floor.

Sales have been going pretty well. I'm getting the hang of this retail thing. I'll be honest, I haven't done this kinda junk in over ten years and all I'd ever sold was tires way back as a greasemonkey but now, the whole game has changed. Right now, I've got my eye on a fire-engine red video camera for YouTube/Google Video projects but money won't permit. I've also got my eye on a nice laptop for Misty. I'm sure she'll love it. She's played with her mom's laptop so much, she might as well be the one to own it. Her own mom won't even play with it because she doesn't really understand computers. Things at home have been a little strained because I've been at work so much. That's to be expected, I suppose. I mean, it's not like I'm at home all the time in the cube anymore.

For those of you wondering about the show...well, I'm a little curious about that myself. My schedule still isn't as regular enough to even do a show and I'm still learning about podcasting through iTunes. To be honest, I barely have the time to do this blog much less anything else. What little extra time I have is spent trying to keep up with things around the cube.

*************************************************************************************

Date: May 16, 2009

Day before yesterday, I called back to Louisiana to check in with the family. Naturally, it was small talk as usual until Mom asked me if I remembered my old friend, Faith.

Let me introduce you to Faith. She was a young woman, short in stature but with hair that was just "a little too red" by the standards of some. She had the broadest smile that would turn adamantium into butter in an oven and would stop tanks in their tracks. That smile would win me over every time. She also had a heart of platinum.

Why do I say that? Well there was that nasty business back in high school that spread all over the town like the fires of Hell with demons running in gasoline underwear. She'd been one of the popular kids in school and had been given "fair warning" about me and how dark I could be. Not that she gave a shit. When she wanted to meet and know someone...that's what she did. She wasn't the type to take everything everyone told her as gospel. That's how I met her.

At great risk to her own reputation and even the ruin of some friendships, her and I became close friends.

During my senior year, we both had creative writing class together and I was having a helluva time. I was a heavy comic collector at the time and Curse of The Spawn was among my favorites but that fourth issue was elusive and I had to get my hands on a copy before the month was out. During Christmas that year, I was at wits' end trying to find this issue when she presented me with a gift; that ever-elusive fourth issue. Needless to say, such a contribution to my collection was one that forever sealed that friendship. Well, if her defense of me to her social circle wasn't enough to cement it, this would definitely be the drying agent and the other part to the binary epoxy that not even the hottest solar flare would melt.

Our friendship never progressed into a relationship though some swore that it had. We lost touch when she'd moved. Last I'd heard of her, she'd gotten married and had two little girls. He must be one helluva guy and he's damned lucky. That's what I always thought. The friendships she made were lasting and nearly unbreakable...unless you did something to fuck it around.

Back to the call. When I got the news, I stood there in a state of shock. Seems things have a way of coming back to bite you in the ass.

My last walk in Louisiana brought me past the house in which she'd lived as a teenager and I'd thought about possibly tracking her down and catching up with her but I told myself that I didn't have time. I still had to pack. I couldn't stop even for a minute. How fucked is that? Someone who put her entire reputation on the line for something like a friendship with me and I couldn't spare a fucking minute or two?

That came back to me. She was dead. Gone. One of my best friends in the world was gone forever and I didn't have the time.

It was then that I caught myself thinking the one thought that was most disturbing to me. All those people who couldn't take two fuckin minutes to listen to her...all those who said all those evil things about me and then tried to pin some guilt by association on her...why couldn't it have been one of those sick evil fucks?

Normally, I'd think that perhaps it should have been me after all the self-infliction but no, it had to be her. Needless to say I was in a fury once the shock had subsided.

It was breast cancer that claimed her. It had spread to other parts of her body and had killed her. Normally, I wouldn't wish this disease on my worst enemy but here I was wishing that it had been any one of those worthless wastes of life instead of her. I don't care if they'd changed, it would serve them right. I hated them all but mostly, I missed my friend. Had it not been for her, I'm not really sure how I would have handled some of those situations I found myself in.

I could write an entire diatribe about how all of them deserved what she got and didn't deserve. I could do that but I won't. Even though I'd like to see them all suffer and cold shoulder every plea for forgiveness that they issue forth, I don't think that now is the time or place for it. My only hope is that they count themselves as I do. I count myself lucky that I knew her. I count myself lucky that she chose to do what few did. I hope that they all carry on her courage and her kind nature

It occurs to me that the gears on this post did dramatically shift gears but, I suppose that's how it is when a post is not finished and you have to come back with the worst news ever.

Faith, I'm sorry that I didn't at least try to catch up with you. Just know that you'll always be someone I held near and dear to me and that I'll miss you. Just understand that my anger is partially because I hate what others did to you because of me and partially because I hate myself for not doing the right thing when I had the chance.

Episode 5: Freelance Teknosapien No More

About goddamned time someone hired me. Got a call a few days ago while trying to figure out what was wrong with Lillian's engine. Misty's niece comes across as a bubblehead but she's anything but that. She just doesn't know jack about engines. Me...I know a little and I guess that's enough. To have a little expertise in an area is enough.

I'd interviewed for Church of The Cathode Ray Tek Shop (no, I'm not telling you motherfuckers where I actually work...only the priveliged few get that info) after getting a phone call from one of their reps. Finally, working within the realm of technology. Something I'll actually fucking enjoy for a change. Base pay is crap but the commissions will supplement that. I'm sure I'll actually make it. So anyway, I'm at the hospital, listening to the Escape from L.A. score...fitting, isn't it? That's when they call. I was pissed. Some idiot just interrupted my Snake Plissken groove...it had better be good. I was already frustrated as it was. Found out it was CoTCRTS and all was immediately forgiven.

After the phone call, I was still frustrated. Mainly because of an ongoing battle between iTunes and my damn bank that had been raging for weeks. You guys know that I'm only restricted to downloading freebie apps now? Yeah. Well, I'll get back to that because it's still going on.

Anyway, I dressed to the nines (basically made myself look like a hitman Tony Soprano would hire) and headed there for the interview. No problems at all. It went exceedingly well. Red ties really do work well, don't they? Something about black and red colors screams "HIRE THIS DUDE!!!"

It was while I was working on Lillian's engine trouble that I spotted it. I'd remembered it from my grease monkey days...a 2.7 Liter V6 engine produced in 2000....there were two models. One model took 6 quarts of oil...the other took four and a half. This was the four and a half model and it looked to have more than the required amount of oil from the dipstick's indications. Fuckola, the mechanics to whom she'd taken it were looking to blow up her engine!

"Don't...fucking...drive...this...thing," I told her, "Not unless you want your engine blowing itself to Kingdom Come and beyond."

I got the phone call shortly after I finished with the engine. Time to onboard with The Church of The Cathode Ray...I'm as good as hired. We took care of all of that today. Now...time to get crackin' on the work and sell, sell, sell. That's right, I'm pushing all of you into my world...the brightly-lit and glamorous world of cyberspace where you can get anything, be anyone, say whatever and break down the walls. I'll show you our final bastion of free society left in the world. I'm the bad seed, your designated driver of the datastream, your teknotourguide of this electronic landscape. It's comin' at ya...blazing like a Sirocco, blazing across the land into your town, into your home, slamming into your radio like a super charged nano particle of dark energy, messing with your mind. It's a landscape of blasphemies and truths with cultures both malignant and benign, full of sound and fury but all...signifying something. Where do you want to go? Our journey is long and better than any drug you've ever tried. If you think I'm joking, I can clearly show you examples that I'm not.

Now...let's talk Apple. Everytime I've ever needed to change contact or payment info, there's never been a problem. Now, it seems like since I got this new card from my bank...nothing's worked right. Apple says it's my bank, my bank says it's Apple and the story only snowballs every time I have had to tell it. A wonderful representative of Apple named James and his console cowboy partner Enrique did everything they could to help me, including getting me to an internal investigator. Let's hope that pans out. I need that Magic: The Gathering Deck Builder.

Oh, yeah...sorcery. Magic...I'm playing that again. I'd lost every game I'd played until the other night, my rough Pandora Deck actually "decked" Darrin. Getting Decked means that you have no cards left to draw and you lose by default. Nevermind that he played the Wrath of God card twice which destroys all creatures on the board and another card that kills lands. Those four good punches just weren't enough to keep me on the ropes or down. I may be tournament material soon.

It was a lot like watching Rocky. He kept getting his ass kicked but he refused to stay down. It wasn't even tournament time and I was playing like it was. It had to have been frustrating. In this instance, I was the manifestation of evil that just toyed with him until he was too exhausted and had nothing left to give. In the words of Daniel Day Lewis from the film "Gangs of New York", "Good Morning, Priest." He threw the Kitchen sink at me and it didn't stop me from unleashing my hellish hordes on him. In the end, it was only one of my many good soldiers that did him in. It just wouldn't leave him alone.

He has vowed revenge. He will have his opportunity. Only this time, I won't be as forgiving.

One more thing before I'm out...Terminator Salvation and Angels & Demons are definitely worthwhile movies to see.

Episode 4: Door To The Face or Insult To Injury

Have you ever watched all those comedies where it's just one guy and door after door after door gets slammed in his face? Yeah, well that's me.

I got a letter from Disc Makers. If you read between the lines, as I did again, they had a quota to fill. This comes after I found out that my hopes of going back to school online would cost me a cool ten grand six months after I graduate...with interest. I also don't qualify for grants because I don't have a dependent...fucking wonderful. I suppose that should be no surprise. Far be it from me to do the responsible thing by rolling up the sleeves and working my ass off all these years.

I could bitch about how unfair it is, but fuck 'em. I'll study the shit on my own and just consult others who know more about this shit than I do. Later on, I'll blow through those classes out of boredom and then tank anyone else in the business. I've gotta do something.

Today was another day in shit traffic. I drove like a NASCAR racer on a meth bender into Philly just to get Pop zapped again. This time, I met his doctor. Pop made the introduction of me as "my future son-in-law" with a smile on his face. Remembering that at least gave me the boost. After I was let down by the idea of going back into debt just to become educated about what I love most, I fell into a pit of depression. Coming back to this rejection letter was further irritation. These assholes made me get up at the asscrack of fucking dawn only to not be honest with me. I hate that goddamn two-way mirror shit. Look, if I can't see through it, take that shit down and put a damn wall up. Pretty simple.

Stacking the deck only further serves to irritate me.

It's not that I can't make it five months or more without working but I don't want that. I want to wake up, get out, go to work and come home. I want the decent pay and the ability to not have to worry. Sure, I despised my old job with a nuclear capability but, the truth is, I liked the structure and halfway knowing what to expect. I didn't like what I did but at least I was good at it.

Sometimes I look back and wonder how the hell this ended up happening to me. I know what happened. I dropped out twice. Something told me the whole idea was bad a long time ago but hell, if I'd known this was going to happen, it would have been a much different story.

Part of me wants to say, "Fuck it" but the other part of me is so pissed off that I wanna kick down those doors and tell them, "Guess what...I'm hired...like it or not."

I also kinda thought the double existence thing would end too but it hasn't...it's only gotten worse. Having to stash my second identity even further into the web hole isn't helping because employers these days are making more and more use of the internet and what you're doing on your own time against you. Fuck's sake, nothing is safe anymore.

This led me to doing what I do best once I was done. I was finished and I lapsed into my bored personality...where I just start talking shit as calmly as humanly possible.

There was only one cure for what ailed me. I fired up the PSP and began randomly killing people in GTA: Vice City Stories. I went on a wanton destruction binge simply because I could.

In other news, Squatter's out. This morning I heard the handyman and a representative of the local Sheriff's Department knocking at the door of Cube 2. Misty and I had seen him hurriedly moving stuff out the night before and now, here was the wrecking crew. The handyman used his key to access the open port into Cube 2 and while the Sheriff was poking his nose around...the handyman was changing out the locks. I've since seen Squatter come back twice. Nice nasty surprise. Try messing with Pearl again, Punkass! Next time, you might not be so lucky.

One more day of sliding down the line into Philly and then I'm off for a couple of days. It's not too bad as long as I have something to entertain me but that bust of Einstein in front of Einstein Medical is starting to look more and more like Heath Ledger's Joker by the day. Weathering effects have not been kind to Albert at all.

Episode 3: At Home And A Broad

Don't start griping about the incorrect grammar of the title. I know what I wrote and I meant to do so. When taken in context of this post, you'll understand why.

I got up at the asscrack of dawn for my Open House at Disc Makers. Ever wondered who mass produces those wonderful wafers of technology called DVDs and CDs that you love and enjoy so much? Yeah, it's people like this. I hopped into Pearl and flew down the highway into Pennsauken for this thing. I listened to George Noory interview Stephen Root (Office Space, King of The Hill, Bicentennial Man) as I tooled along the highway at a steady 40 mph.

It's a safe speed, a nice, relaxing speed. I wasn't laying the hammer down this time. I had some time to spare. Leaving the cube at six in the morning for a short drive that wouldn't last even that isn't exactly my idea of a good time, but, for the purposes of landing employment, it's what I had to do. I got there well before 7am, the time of the appointment and when they finally opened their doors, I was greeted with an application and basic skills test. Great.

What I don't get is that these people had my resume' or, at least, a copy of it on file electronically. I could understand the skills test but another paper application? I filled everything out and turned it in. Two people were called to the back for a typing test. I wasn't and neither was the other guy who showed up with me. If this blog and the fact that Criss Angel's chatroom telling me to slow my typing down aren't evidence that I'm a prime candidate for the typing test, I don't know what is. Another big discouraging wall was when a nearby hospital emailed me stating that my application for employment had been rejected because they'd found someone more qualified.

Unless the dude ran black ops for some secret police organization, I don't fucking think so. I can read between those lines and that was as predictable as the punchline to the joke about the psychic getting struck by lightning. Don't you find it repulsive that it's YOU who have to be transparent to your prospective employer but not the other way around? I'm calling bullshit on that. I'm going to apply again. They don't brush the likes of ME off that fucking easily.

I got back to the cube even earlier than expected. I'm not holding my breath on that one either. Then, I get a call. Another call center job that I'd applied for was looking to hire me. The guy over the phone liked the way I talked about electronics and, between you and me, let's get one thing straight. As it stands, me without an electronic device of some type might as well be me walking around naked. If I don't have my PDA, I've got my iPhone. If I don't have that, I have my laptop, my PSP or my desktop. I can ditch cigarettes much more easily than I can ditch my addiction to the world of the brightly-lit displays, satellite relays, SatCom or frequent runs in Cyberspace. If you can't tell that I want to make my concept of a cerebral 150 Terabyte Wetwire implant a reality, I don't know how else to spell that out for you.

Sure, I know a lot about electronics, I'm just afraid of bricking one of my devices if I start fucking with it. Last thing I wanna do is crack open the case to anything, make one wrong move and my device (whichever it is) becomes an expensive paperweight. So the offer of an online university to learn more about information systems and possible government grants was too good to pass up. I'm on board if they are.

After that little bit, I had to whisk Pop over to Philly again to get zapped with radiation. Needless to say, sitting there, reading Wallace Wang's book Steal This Computer Book 4.0 is an eye-opener. It occurred to me...why shouldn't I go back to school? Why shouldn't I get paid top dollar for my skills and why shouldn't I of all people be permitted to sharpen them to razor status? I'm already using my own sweet time to learn this stuff, dammit, I should get a piece of the sky for that at least. If my love for electronics and my own study doesn't show them initiative enough...fuck 'em. I'll do the shit myself, save up, go through the school and breeze through it with my middle finger flying proudly once I graduate. Hell yes....goddamn right.

So, here I was, sitting around a hospital, learning stuff about viruses, phone phreaking and social engineering. Dangerous stuff in the hands of a derranged madman but, in my hands...useful tools for my education.

As Pop and I came back from Philly, it occurred to me that Broad Street looked exactly like it did in the Rocky movies from oh so long ago...what a shithole. Speaking of which, as we were streaking along Kelly Drive, I saw something. I must have driven by it thousands of times and never noticed it.

"Is that what I think it is?!" I asked Pop.

"Oh that?" he said, "Yeah, I think that's Grant on Horseback."

"No!" I said like an excited kid, "That!"

I pointed and Pop got a good chuckle out of my amazement.

"Oh that," he said, "Yep...that's Rocky...Old Stallone himself. It was at the top of the steps of the art museum but the board of directors didn't like it so they had to take it down."

I was reeling as I piloted the car along toward the Ben Franklin Bridge back into Jersey. He explained that it had been moved several times. I couldn't believe it. All these scullers were heading out in the rain to go rowing these boats around and most of them didn't even take notice at the piece of film history...a piece of a proud Philadelphia moment...right in their midst.

I vowed that, sooner or later, I was going to get a pic of me standing next to it.

You really have to love how some things just work out.

Right now, my head is filled with images of helping to develop the technology we have in existence already. I'm ready to rock and I don't think the world will ever be the same once I do what I need to do.

Get ready, world...Genocyde's comin' to town...a fiery invader.