Anybody ever seen a humming bird sitting still? It’s a pretty little thing. There was a little green hummingbird tending its nest just outside a friend’s door yesterday. Tiny little bird in a tiny little nest with two tiny little eggs in it. I’m told the nest blew over during the night, and my friend is really upset. I was looking forward to taking some pictures for the site, but it looks like that’s not going to happen. We’re still hoping she’ll be able to rebuild it. It looks like there’s still one egg inside the nest.

‘m reprinting this one in its entirety even before it goes up on Lockergnome because I think it’s an important point. So here goes.

This is a big issue. The trust of the American people in their “democratic” process fundamentally depends on the transparency of that process. We have to believe that our vote counts, because without that belief, the system will grind to a halt. After the 2000 Presidential Election, the public is rightfully concerned about the validity of their vote. There are those who feel the Supreme Court severely overstepped their constitutional bounds and virtually appointed a President. There are others who simply don’t believe in the integrity of the process as it stands. With these concerns weighing so heavily on our collective conscious, we should already have seen a universal outcry against the fatally flawed electronic voting machines which have time and again demonstrated their lack of fitness for their intended purpose. Not only do the manufacturers of the machines operate in secrecy, but so do the companies entrusted with their oversight. This can not be allowed to go on.

These fine folks are among several groups loudly campaigning for the open-sourcing and transparency of the electronic voting process. The common thread among such groups, to which we should all tie ourselves, is the need for a permanent election record. Under no circumstances should any voter allow herself to be trapped into using a machine with no printed record. As we all saw four years ago, the paper record of a vote is an invaluable tool for ensuring the fairness and accuracy of an election, even when that tool is not fully utilized. Toward this end, legislation is being sought to require a tangible trail of electoral paperwork. I’d like to join my voice to the chorus urging every conscientious voter to seek out their representatives and pin them down on this issue. This is too important to leave to Congress.

Lastly, a piece of practical advice for anyone who won’t trust their vote to current e-voting technology. The absentee ballot: Here is a list of general guidelines by state. You should be able to register for an absentee ballot at your local post office, though for most states, online registration is available here. I encourage those of you who will be registering for an absentee ballot to very clearly state your refusal to use unproven e-voting machines.

For anybody who’s never voted absentee before, here’s the general rundown from a guy who lives in the middle of nowhere, California, and has no other option. You’ll receive a paper ballot card by mail shortly before the election. You punch out the little holes with a pencil or some such implement. Make sure the holes are completely punched out and there is no debris clogging the hole. No that wasn’t a joke. Then you can either mail in your ballot with the enclosed envelope, or you can take it in to the poling place on election day and drop it in the hopper. It’s a satisfying feeling, so that’s how I do it every year. This method will ensure that your vote is indeed counted, though it will be counted a little later. As any election watcher knows, the absentee ballots are the last to be counted, since they roll in later than those from the polling places. Keep your little stub, as well. It’s a reassuring piece of evidence that you did, in fact, vote. Many voters will be given no such assurance come November. Wouldn’t it be nice if the majority of the country voted absentee this year? That would certainly put the kibosh on the obnoxious network news channels’ insistence upon calling a winner before the official count is in.

I’m still job hunting, and I may have shot myself in the foot with a big gun. The first three times I applied for jobs at TechTV, I didn’t get any response. Not even the automated kind. So on my fourth try, I prepared to engage an attention-getting device. I guess I’ll just cut and paste so you get the idea:

After inventing the internet in 1991, I became a leading technology prospector for Microsoft, searching out new, interesting and functional technologies for them to buy, steal, copy, corrupt, cripple, or flat out destroy. After thirty highly satisfying years with Microsoft, I decided it was time for a change. So between 1995 and 1997, I stepped out on my own, throwing most of my thirty percent stake in Microsoft on the altar of Venture Capital. I still hold the dubious achievement of spending more and earning less than any other venture capitalist in the valley.

I dabbled in such industries as computer hardware and software design, biotech, consumer electronics, experimental particle physics, new materials development, and underwater basket weaving.

Though none of my projects found a market, I cannot bring myself to call them failures. For example, the Grat, a genetically modified cross between a goat and a rat continues to successfully breed in the sewers beneath San Francisco, fulfilling the purpose for which it was designed. The Grat combines the dietary fortitude of its parent lines to become a living garbage disposal, wandering the sewers and consuming nearly 85% of all solid waste. Sadly, the release of the Grats was accidental, and commercial viability was never achieved due to their rat-like breeding rate. Several major population centers, which we had considered potential markets simply sent representatives to San Francisco to capture a small breeding population of Grats and any chance we had of maintaining control of the market was lost. Rather than a failure, I choose to think of this incident as success run amok.

In a project a little closer to the domain of TechTV, I inadvertently invented spam. At the time I was responsible for some 840,000 employees, and I was desperate to find a way to disseminate information among my several corporate networks. In short what was initially intended as a way to get insurance, benefit, and company picnic information to my various employees rapidly found itself mutated into the scourge of the connected world consuming bandwidth, pillaging inboxes and burning thousands of man-lifetimes. Sorry about that.

I finally decided to retire from the venture capitalism after a disastrous accident in early 1997 with a storage product that was nearing completion. One of my labs had perfected a method of using DNA for data storage. We had made fantastic breakthroughs in both storage density and data retrieval rates. In a storage density test, we were able to fit nearly a hundred petabytes on a device the size of a pencil stub. In retrospect the insanely cool looking pyrex enclosure for the storage system was probably ill-concieved. Oddly enough tragedy struck only when we tested the device’s storage longevity. We threw a couple of copies of the works of shakespeare onto the drive and let it sit in a desk drawer for six months. Then some idiot ran out of golf tees for his office putting green. One good smack with the putter and the device shattered. As it turns out, “The Tempest”, when converted to genetic code, becomes a virus that makes Ebola run and hide like a little bitch. Everyone in the lab was killed within minutes, and the whole place was buried in concrete.

After than incident I took an extended vacation, catching up on my binge drinking and gambling in Monte Carlo.

Recently, I’ve again felt the urge to help people, and my natural leanings bring me back to technology. I’m hoping to find a place at TechTV where I can help people understand technology, without getting dangerously close to the bleeding edge of high tech. I’m happy to start anew in an entry-level position, and I have many skills which will prove useful in such an environment. I type nearly fifteen thousand words a minute. I can build a high-performance gaming PC from paper clips, bubble gum and toothpaste. I speak 74 languages, including binary at a rate of 1000 Kbps. Handily enough, my dental work picks up Wi-Fi signals, so I’ve also become an excellent packet sniffer. If you’ve any additional questions, please contact me at any of the numbers, email addresses, or web sites provided.

Thank you for your time,

Joseph X. Xxxxxxxx

Seriously though, I am well versed in a tremendous range of technology, and I can explain anything from the basics of microprocessor design to the differenced in optical media in an accessible and memorable fashion. I have a great deal of teaching experience as well as experience with wide range of computer and consumer electronics technology. I recently put up a LinSpot server, and while LinSpot was featured on TSS a while ago, they admitted they’d been unable to get it to work. I’d be happy to write a demo segment for you if it would help you evaluate my skills. Aside from that, the means by which I host my web page could very well make an informative Dark Tip. I’ve got a lot to offer, and TechTV is far and away the coolest place I can think of to work.

Keep in mind, the following resume is all true:

Okay. So I think all that is pretty funny, provided you’re a bit of a geek. But just to be extra sure that I got somebody’s freakin’ attention, I addressed the whole schmeer to “Faceless, soulless corporate human resources personnel.” So when I immediately got an automated response this time, I became a little nervous. Maybe they never got the first three letters? Maybe I goofed somewhere? Maybe somebody’s going to be offended? Anyway, I figured they probably had a good sense of humor and wouldn’t hold that against me, especially with the cute little P.P.S. that I put at the very end:

P.P.S. – Just kidding about the faceless, soulless thing. I’m sure you’re all lovely people with lovely faces and bright shiny souls. ; ]

Anyway. I finally managed to get to sleep some time around three in the morning. Then I woke really late to find out all my sites were down. I had recently installed a Wi-Fi spot on the same network as the Cube that hosts the sites, and while doing that, I had an inspiration about how to “improve” the efficiency of adress handling for my server. Well, it wasn’t broke, so I shouldn’t have fixed it. The server was down to the outside world, which I forgot to check on. It only took about twenty minutes repair the damage from home, but I’m still left wondering if they loved my letter, then clicked on my links, found them down and figured I was a punk-ass.

So if anybody’s reading this, cross a finger or two for me if you would be so kind.

As promised. Some reminiscence. The first memory Wil’s book kicked up came from the title itself. I read his blog regularly, and every time the title of the book comes up, it reminds me of a surprisingly powerful memory.

I suppose I don’t have quite the mental Tivo of a proper writer, but a few vivid pictures of this day stick with me even after something like a decade. It was one of those delightfully rainy central California days where it’s just cold enough that you look forward to curling up in a warm blanket . . . later. I was out at the military base near where I live, and this is important only because it leaves such a vivid picture in my mind. “The Base” is an odd place, in that it exists as a semi-urban area situated between forest and farm land. Asphalt and sidewalks suddenly crop up in the midst of a decidedly rural community.

So there’s me, roaming around the asphalt and concrete of this housing development. Rain is falling all around me in the big fat droplets soak you to the skin almost as efficiently as falling into a swimming pool. At my side is my friend Becky. Back then it wasn’t often you could get away with calling us friends. We made quite a contest of insulting, belittling, vexing, pestering and generally giving each other a hard time. Back then, I was truly convinced I meant every nasty little word I said.

But on this day, we were friends. We were sopping wet, idiot-grinning, skipping, shouting friends. My little brother, and one or two of hers were there too, but we pretty much ignored them, as they were the most odious of pests. You know how it is. I can’t remember what we said, and I can remember little of what we did. But I vividly remember the rain pounding down and rushing in every gutter, and barely teen-aged feet flopping spectacularly through every puddle. I remember my soaking wet hair, (very thick at the time), flopping in little ropes against my forehead. I remember being consciously aware of what a special day it was. Of the rarity of such a completely joyous day. Of calling a cease-fire with my nemesis. Maybe that was the closing day of my childhood, because I can’t remember a day like that since.

I can’t even reliably tell you what year that was, except that it was before the summer of 1991. That summer was the year Becky moved very far away. I remember the last day we hung out, which was pretty close to moving day. By then, I’d figured out that what made us such engaging nemeses could also have made us good friends. We had a lot in common. Feisty tempers, quick wits, a fierce love of books, and of competition. I think clued into that too, because she gave me a little white gorilla as a memento. Then again, could be she just wanted to get rid of some old stuff instead of packing it. I like to think it was the kindred spirits thing though. I’ve still got the gorilla. I found him in a box of stuff a couple of months ago and gave him a home on my bookshelf. I think he needs a name.

I actually saw Becky again in 1998. I drove across much of the country on my way home from college, and one of my stops was in her new home town. I looked up her family in the book, and was shocked at how happy everybody was to hear from me. Even her wicked little brothers had grown into decent young men. They came to the motel where I was staying and picked me up. And I remember sitting in the living room, catching up with the family when Becky came skipping down the hallway.

Imagine I’m Charlie Brown. I’m old enough to drink and almost ready to call myself a grown-up. I drop by to visit my dear old pal Peppermint Patty after many years. I’m here to visit Peppermint Patty, so that’s who I’m expecting to see, and you can imagine my surprise when Jessica Rabbit enters the room. Wow. Okay, so I really do look a little like Charlie Brown, but she looked nothing like Jessica Rabbit, but you get the point.

I ended up being invited to stay there with the family for a few days, and we did a lot of catching up. We went to see the wall that heals with her dad, who by the way, was the ranking officer on “The Base” back in the day. The wall that heals is a traveling replica of the Vietnam Memorial, and it’s worth seeing if it’s in your area. We hung out at a coffee shop. We did all sorts of hanging out stuff. My favorite memory, however was when she and her boyfriend and yours truly as the third wheel went to see “Matthew Broderick meets Godzilla”. I remember looking away from the half-assed lizard smashing its way through New York to see her pleasantly asleep on his shoulder. Sure, I was consumed with jealousy and all that, but I remember thinking that was just about the most girly thing I’ve ever seen her do. Just like a chick to fall asleep when things are getting nice and loud.

If you haven’t clicked the flashing Wil Wheaton shaped head over on the left side of the page, click it now. Read whatever it puts in front of you. You’ll be glad you did. Wil is the best biographer I’ve ever read, and his ability to suck you right into his memories is stunning. What I find more stunning is his ability to shove me into my own memories. Maybe it’s just coincidence, but I think it’s more to do with the fact that some experiences are simply universal. You’ll be hearing about some of them in the next few days, I’m sure. Dancing Barefoot is the title of Wil’s first book. Read the book. Read it now!

Since I haven’t had anything to say in a few days, I decided to force myself to come up with something. Here’s the deal. Get your hands on a copy of “The Million Dollar Hotel”. It’s got Jeremy Davies, Milla Jovovich, Jimmy Smits and Mel Gibson. Very strange, and in places eerily beautiful movie. Gibson plays an FBI trapped in a body brace, investigating a mysterious death in a once-majestic hotel.

It’s a strange trip, but if you like strange trips, check it out.

I am hereby banning the use of the word “unimaginable”, and the phrase “More than you can possibly imagine”. The former has been abused and over used by the news media to the point of causing allergies and skin rashes in lab rats and small children. The latter has been beaten unto death by just about every pinhead with a word processor. It was cool when Obi-Wan Kenobi said it. It hasn’t been cool since.

And who the fuck are you to tell people the extent of their own imaginations? Like your imagination is so much more capable than mine. Fuck you. Condescending pricks.

That is all.

I’ve just committed myself to a cross-country bike trip starting in July, if I don’t have a decent job by then. Wish me luck. So between now and then, I’ve got to train my ass off, so I’ll be trying to hit my recumbent bike every day and do some distance on the weekends. Again, wish me luck. I’m also going to be building us a bike-trailer, so wish me luck. Plus, I’ve got to get an iPod and a decent digital camera, so wish me luck. If I can manage this, I’ll do my best to keep on bloggin’ cross-country, so y’all might get some sweet readin.

Oh yeah, and wish me luck. Peace, love, recycle.

This hurts like hell, and is pretty much the same thing I just had surgery for, so don’t think I say this lightly. He deserves it. John Ashcroft has done his level best to beat the civil liberties out of the bill of rights, and has shown himself to be an ogre. He deserves the pain.

At least the lucky bastard has plenty of money and excellent insurance. Without county assistance, my surgery would have cost roughly $50,000, or so I’m told. That’s roughly three years pay for me. Ashcroft, however, through careful undermining of our constitutional rights has certainly earned his government health benefits. Lucky him.

I’m sore, I’m sleepy, and I’m a little perforated, but I’m here. Nighty-night now.