well it's been three nights now and I've only caught Andrew once with unauthorised crockery in his room .
Today was bonus day so methinks we can afford a serve of ribs as a reward!
Friday, March 11, 2005
Oh, the shame
earlier this week we did an interim release of our software to be sent to a single site.
It took me a while to establish the mindset but it's now the expectation where I work that, if we do a software release, we do it on the 15th of the month. I'd originally planned to do one a month but the customer balked at such a frequency; they wanted no more than 4 per year. I can understand that; I've worked for enough large corporations in my time to know and understand their reasons. Hence the 'if we do a software release'. Some months there isn't enough extra functionality to warrant a new release. Or sometimes the extra functionality takes more than a month to write. Most of the time we do the call on when to release but you always have to factor in the customers needs. This, of course, only works if you have an established trust relationship with your customer. I think we do, which makes me feel very lucky!
I've also managed to establish the idea that you just can't do random releases and believe me it took some arguing. If we do need a special release it has to go through the same process as a normal release; no more of this 'compile a copy on some random computer which might or might not have the most recent source files (ie, whoever's laptop it is that the release was compiled on) and hope for the best'.
Fortunately our customer is very sophisticated in this regard; they understand the value of process and they, once they'd heard me talking about doing things in a particular way, threw their weight behind me. For any company having the customer on side is a plus but when your customer is a thousand times larger than you are you listen. I've managed to kill the idea that you fix one bug and then email that exe to the affected site.
But this is the real world and there are always exceptions. Such an exception arose. So we did an interim release on March 8th using the process, sent as aforesaid to just the one site and knowing it would be superseded by the March 15 release, sent to all sites.
I've already, in previous posts, mentioned that our software has a runtime component, for which I'm responsible, and a design time component. The March 8th release contained an older version of the design time component (the version that went out on Feb 15) and an updated (and urgently needed) runtime.
The March 15 release will contain a newer version of the design time component and the March 8th version of the runtime.
So where's the shame?
Well, I've made a lot of changes to the runtime this week and it 'feels' like it works. I hope that's raising the hackles. 'Feeling' isn't good enough. I can't properly test my changes here; we don't have the hardware so I have to go back to Dallas to perform the tests. Which puts me in the position, after all my complaining about having to go to Dallas, of demanding I be sent to Dallas to test my changes!
I can think of worse things to be ashamed of!
It took me a while to establish the mindset but it's now the expectation where I work that, if we do a software release, we do it on the 15th of the month. I'd originally planned to do one a month but the customer balked at such a frequency; they wanted no more than 4 per year. I can understand that; I've worked for enough large corporations in my time to know and understand their reasons. Hence the 'if we do a software release'. Some months there isn't enough extra functionality to warrant a new release. Or sometimes the extra functionality takes more than a month to write. Most of the time we do the call on when to release but you always have to factor in the customers needs. This, of course, only works if you have an established trust relationship with your customer. I think we do, which makes me feel very lucky!
I've also managed to establish the idea that you just can't do random releases and believe me it took some arguing. If we do need a special release it has to go through the same process as a normal release; no more of this 'compile a copy on some random computer which might or might not have the most recent source files (ie, whoever's laptop it is that the release was compiled on) and hope for the best'.
Fortunately our customer is very sophisticated in this regard; they understand the value of process and they, once they'd heard me talking about doing things in a particular way, threw their weight behind me. For any company having the customer on side is a plus but when your customer is a thousand times larger than you are you listen. I've managed to kill the idea that you fix one bug and then email that exe to the affected site.
But this is the real world and there are always exceptions. Such an exception arose. So we did an interim release on March 8th using the process, sent as aforesaid to just the one site and knowing it would be superseded by the March 15 release, sent to all sites.
I've already, in previous posts, mentioned that our software has a runtime component, for which I'm responsible, and a design time component. The March 8th release contained an older version of the design time component (the version that went out on Feb 15) and an updated (and urgently needed) runtime.
The March 15 release will contain a newer version of the design time component and the March 8th version of the runtime.
So where's the shame?
Well, I've made a lot of changes to the runtime this week and it 'feels' like it works. I hope that's raising the hackles. 'Feeling' isn't good enough. I can't properly test my changes here; we don't have the hardware so I have to go back to Dallas to perform the tests. Which puts me in the position, after all my complaining about having to go to Dallas, of demanding I be sent to Dallas to test my changes!
I can think of worse things to be ashamed of!
Gotta love the circus
The media circus that is;
So there I was driving to work today about 9:20 AM Arizona time. The radio was interrupted by a newsflash from a breathless reporter. Michael Jackson is late to court! This was announced in much the same way that one might expect the announcement of a second 9/11.
Ten or so minutes later the program was interrupted again. The judge has issued a bench warrant for Michael Jacksons arrest if he doesn't appear in court within an hour! (I was tempted to capitalise each letter of that sentence but good taste prevailed). This was followed by the reporter announcing that Jackson's lawyer had been seen pacing back and forth with a mobile phone to his ear.
I love that detail. I couldn't stop laughing, and we all know how rarely you laugh out loud when you're alone.
Now the cynics amongst you are expecting me to attribute this to America. Wrong. When I got home from work tonight I rang my best mate Heino. I ring him at least once a month but usually more often (except when he's at the Australian Grand Prix). I started telling him about the story and he interrupted me with more up-to-date information than I had. It seems that the Australian media have also been following this non-story with the kind of attention you'd normally associate with hungry sharks in a bloodbath!
So there I was driving to work today about 9:20 AM Arizona time. The radio was interrupted by a newsflash from a breathless reporter. Michael Jackson is late to court! This was announced in much the same way that one might expect the announcement of a second 9/11.
Ten or so minutes later the program was interrupted again. The judge has issued a bench warrant for Michael Jacksons arrest if he doesn't appear in court within an hour! (I was tempted to capitalise each letter of that sentence but good taste prevailed). This was followed by the reporter announcing that Jackson's lawyer had been seen pacing back and forth with a mobile phone to his ear.
I love that detail. I couldn't stop laughing, and we all know how rarely you laugh out loud when you're alone.
Now the cynics amongst you are expecting me to attribute this to America. Wrong. When I got home from work tonight I rang my best mate Heino. I ring him at least once a month but usually more often (except when he's at the Australian Grand Prix). I started telling him about the story and he interrupted me with more up-to-date information than I had. It seems that the Australian media have also been following this non-story with the kind of attention you'd normally associate with hungry sharks in a bloodbath!
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Taxes and rebates
I hate em!
Prepare for a rant.
One of the first items on my agenda when I moved here from Australia was to get a new computer. I had 4 back in Australia but the youngest was 3 years old and it wasn't worth the expense of shipping even one of em. So I burned what I wanted to preserve to CD and gave the computers to friends.
On my third day here I went a-shopping (I did say it was one of the first items but I didn't say it was highest priority ). I did the appropriate research on the 'net using my wifes computer and decided on a set of bits; did the searches for the best prices available and prepared the list. A couple of years down the track I don't remember exact prices so bear with me.
One of the things I wanted was RAID so that meant a motherboard with a RAID controller; and two hard disks. Best price I could find for a walk-in was US$99.95 for an 80 gig Maxtor at CompUSA. So I go to the local CompUSA and sure enough they have Maxtor 80 gig drives on the shelf with a very prominent price tag - $99.95. Some of you already know what's coming! I grabbed two of em and went to the counter and the cashier rang it up, $139 and some odd cents each! What? The shelf price is $99.95. 'Ah', says the smarmy young bastard behind the counter, 'that's after rebate'. 'What's a rebate' asked the innocent. It turns out there's a $30 rebate. Ok, so that'd make the price $129.95 right? Wrong! There's also tax.
I'm a simpleton it seems. Where I come from the price marked on the shelf is the price you pay in cold hard cash at the register. All the taxes are included. If you see an item marked at $100 and you have a hundred bucks in your wallet you're good to go! And 48 years of being used to that makes for a difficult to break habit. To this day, more than 2 years down the track, I still find myself forgetting half the time that the price you see on the shelf isn't the price you're going to pay at the register.
But it gets better. You pay a state sales tax of so many percent and you also pay a regional tax of so many percent. I don't know the exact rate here in Scottsdale - I think it's a total of 7.81% but I'm probably wrong. Now that's a monumentally difficult rate to calculate in your head. When I remember I have to do it I apply a flat 10% to be sure I have sufficient cash on me to complete the transaction.
I'm sure that those who were born and raised here don't think this is anything exceptional - 'that's the way it is'. But, to me, it smacks of dishonesty. I'm aware that if you purchase something from another state you don't pay the sales tax - but that exemption seems only to apply to mail and internet orders. I've never seen anyone (nor have I succeeded myself) showing their drivers license to prove they live out of state and are therefore exempted from the taxes. If you walk up to the counter with the item in your hot little hand they'll charge you the taxes. Therefore, they know that the price they put on the ticket isn't correct. This can lead to embarassments for the foreigner. I vividly recall grabbing a copy of the LA times (price marked 50 cents) and offering two quarters. I had no other US money on me and lacked the 7 cents to complete the transaction. This was nearly 20 years after my first visit to the US so you'd think I'd have known better but I'd forgotten that minor detail. Tres embarrassment!
And the rebates? The taxes are bad enough but the assumption here is that you both know the taxes are on top of the marked price and that you know the exact amount. The rebates are something else. I've learned to use my reading glasses! Back to the CompUSA example. The price tag on the shelf had $99.95 in large print. In very small print it said 'Store price $129.95 - $30 mail in rebate'.
Now, assuming you, my reader, has no idea what I'm talking about (I was such an innocent a mere 2 or so years ago), let me explain. A mail in rebate is a way for a lying scumbag to pretend that something costs less than what it really costs. Such a scumbag is free to advertise anything at a giveaway price and gouge you at the register. They'll advertise somethiing at $99.95 but extract $129.95 (plus taxes) at the register. You take your purchase home, snip off the UPC code, enclose the original receipt and mail it off to some address. If you're VERY lucky 10 or 12 weeks later a cheque arrives in the mail for the difference between the advertised price and the extracted price.
The states collude in this because the taxes you pay are calculated on the price without the rebate. Naturally, even if the rebate is paid, the extra taxes aren't refunded!
More usually what happens is that you failed to dot that third I from the left and they deny the rebate. Given that they want both the original receipt and the original UPC code and they never return those for a denied application you're hung, drawn and quartered!
I NEVER buy anything that has a rebate. Nor should you. Ever. Period!
Prepare for a rant.
One of the first items on my agenda when I moved here from Australia was to get a new computer. I had 4 back in Australia but the youngest was 3 years old and it wasn't worth the expense of shipping even one of em. So I burned what I wanted to preserve to CD and gave the computers to friends.
On my third day here I went a-shopping (I did say it was one of the first items but I didn't say it was highest priority ). I did the appropriate research on the 'net using my wifes computer and decided on a set of bits; did the searches for the best prices available and prepared the list. A couple of years down the track I don't remember exact prices so bear with me.
One of the things I wanted was RAID so that meant a motherboard with a RAID controller; and two hard disks. Best price I could find for a walk-in was US$99.95 for an 80 gig Maxtor at CompUSA. So I go to the local CompUSA and sure enough they have Maxtor 80 gig drives on the shelf with a very prominent price tag - $99.95. Some of you already know what's coming! I grabbed two of em and went to the counter and the cashier rang it up, $139 and some odd cents each! What? The shelf price is $99.95. 'Ah', says the smarmy young bastard behind the counter, 'that's after rebate'. 'What's a rebate' asked the innocent. It turns out there's a $30 rebate. Ok, so that'd make the price $129.95 right? Wrong! There's also tax.
I'm a simpleton it seems. Where I come from the price marked on the shelf is the price you pay in cold hard cash at the register. All the taxes are included. If you see an item marked at $100 and you have a hundred bucks in your wallet you're good to go! And 48 years of being used to that makes for a difficult to break habit. To this day, more than 2 years down the track, I still find myself forgetting half the time that the price you see on the shelf isn't the price you're going to pay at the register.
But it gets better. You pay a state sales tax of so many percent and you also pay a regional tax of so many percent. I don't know the exact rate here in Scottsdale - I think it's a total of 7.81% but I'm probably wrong. Now that's a monumentally difficult rate to calculate in your head. When I remember I have to do it I apply a flat 10% to be sure I have sufficient cash on me to complete the transaction.
I'm sure that those who were born and raised here don't think this is anything exceptional - 'that's the way it is'. But, to me, it smacks of dishonesty. I'm aware that if you purchase something from another state you don't pay the sales tax - but that exemption seems only to apply to mail and internet orders. I've never seen anyone (nor have I succeeded myself) showing their drivers license to prove they live out of state and are therefore exempted from the taxes. If you walk up to the counter with the item in your hot little hand they'll charge you the taxes. Therefore, they know that the price they put on the ticket isn't correct. This can lead to embarassments for the foreigner. I vividly recall grabbing a copy of the LA times (price marked 50 cents) and offering two quarters. I had no other US money on me and lacked the 7 cents to complete the transaction. This was nearly 20 years after my first visit to the US so you'd think I'd have known better but I'd forgotten that minor detail. Tres embarrassment!
And the rebates? The taxes are bad enough but the assumption here is that you both know the taxes are on top of the marked price and that you know the exact amount. The rebates are something else. I've learned to use my reading glasses! Back to the CompUSA example. The price tag on the shelf had $99.95 in large print. In very small print it said 'Store price $129.95 - $30 mail in rebate'.
Now, assuming you, my reader, has no idea what I'm talking about (I was such an innocent a mere 2 or so years ago), let me explain. A mail in rebate is a way for a lying scumbag to pretend that something costs less than what it really costs. Such a scumbag is free to advertise anything at a giveaway price and gouge you at the register. They'll advertise somethiing at $99.95 but extract $129.95 (plus taxes) at the register. You take your purchase home, snip off the UPC code, enclose the original receipt and mail it off to some address. If you're VERY lucky 10 or 12 weeks later a cheque arrives in the mail for the difference between the advertised price and the extracted price.
The states collude in this because the taxes you pay are calculated on the price without the rebate. Naturally, even if the rebate is paid, the extra taxes aren't refunded!
More usually what happens is that you failed to dot that third I from the left and they deny the rebate. Given that they want both the original receipt and the original UPC code and they never return those for a denied application you're hung, drawn and quartered!
I NEVER buy anything that has a rebate. Nor should you. Ever. Period!
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
The semantics of need
Sometimes you think the things you oughtn't to think.
Yesterday I went to Subway to get my lunch. The bloke ahead of me was a BIG bloke. I'd guess he was at least 25 kilos overweight. When it was his turn to order he said something along the lines of...
'I need a footlong with the lot'.
And what went through my head in response was 'mate - that's about the last thing you need!'
Which highlights how different English speaking cultures use common words in different ways. Within my first week living here with my new family Morgan would ask me to drive her somewhere. But the way she asked didn't feel right. She'd say 'Rob, you need to drive me to wherever'. I let this go the first two or three times but eventually took her to task. 'No Morgan, I don't NEED to take you anywhere. You need ME to take you there'. It took her a few days to understand how I saw the word need.
Yesterday I went to Subway to get my lunch. The bloke ahead of me was a BIG bloke. I'd guess he was at least 25 kilos overweight. When it was his turn to order he said something along the lines of...
'I need a footlong with the lot'.
And what went through my head in response was 'mate - that's about the last thing you need!'
Which highlights how different English speaking cultures use common words in different ways. Within my first week living here with my new family Morgan would ask me to drive her somewhere. But the way she asked didn't feel right. She'd say 'Rob, you need to drive me to wherever'. I let this go the first two or three times but eventually took her to task. 'No Morgan, I don't NEED to take you anywhere. You need ME to take you there'. It took her a few days to understand how I saw the word need.
Illusory progress on the pigsty front
Suddenly I don't need to tell Andrew to take his plate and his glass down to the dishwasher. Dunno how long this will last but let's wear the rose coloured glasses for a while .
You'll remember the tale of the threatened weekend without television. Since then I've been in the habit of prowling upstairs every couple of hours and pointing at the crockery. Last night we had some fun! Andrew usually goes to bed about 11:30 ([old fart] since when do 13 year old kids get to stay up that late? [/old fart]). He sticks his head out the door and calls out 'Night Mum, night Rob'.
About 15 minutes before this I'd heard the tell-tale clink of glass upon plate so I knew he had crockery upstairs. So when he stuck his head out and said goodnight I said 'uh, Andrew, you're not quite ready to go to bed'. Puzzled look. 'You have some unfinished business'. He continues to fake puzzlement though I can tell by the ghost of a smile that he knows perfectly well what I'm talking about. 'The plates' I said. 'Oh' he says.
So he brought em downstairs and made a great show of scrubbing them out and putting them in the dishwasher. Then he goes upstairs and wishes us a good night. I coughed and said 'Andrew, you're still not ready to go to bed'. More puzzlement and this time I think it was real. 'Remember that packet of chips you opened? It's waiting to be put back in the cupboard'. 'Oh' he says, and marches down the stairs again. The chips put away he goes up again.
'Uh Andrew' I said again. 'You're STILL not ready to go to bed'. By this time he's getting perhaps a trifle impatient. 'What!' he shouts. Well I was 13 years old once and much put upon; or so it seemed at the time so I'll let that one go. 'Remember the milk? You still haven't put it back in the fridge'. So he stumps down, flings the milk into the fridge and slams the door shut. We'll draw a veil over the lecture that followed.
Today I came home primed for more of the same. It was not to be. And I don't say alas. Yes, there was the same parade of plates and glasses going up the stairs; but for a change there was a matching parade of used plates and glasses coming down the stairs.
Let me at least have the illusion of progress.
You'll remember the tale of the threatened weekend without television. Since then I've been in the habit of prowling upstairs every couple of hours and pointing at the crockery. Last night we had some fun! Andrew usually goes to bed about 11:30 ([old fart] since when do 13 year old kids get to stay up that late? [/old fart]). He sticks his head out the door and calls out 'Night Mum, night Rob'.
About 15 minutes before this I'd heard the tell-tale clink of glass upon plate so I knew he had crockery upstairs. So when he stuck his head out and said goodnight I said 'uh, Andrew, you're not quite ready to go to bed'. Puzzled look. 'You have some unfinished business'. He continues to fake puzzlement though I can tell by the ghost of a smile that he knows perfectly well what I'm talking about. 'The plates' I said. 'Oh' he says.
So he brought em downstairs and made a great show of scrubbing them out and putting them in the dishwasher. Then he goes upstairs and wishes us a good night. I coughed and said 'Andrew, you're still not ready to go to bed'. More puzzlement and this time I think it was real. 'Remember that packet of chips you opened? It's waiting to be put back in the cupboard'. 'Oh' he says, and marches down the stairs again. The chips put away he goes up again.
'Uh Andrew' I said again. 'You're STILL not ready to go to bed'. By this time he's getting perhaps a trifle impatient. 'What!' he shouts. Well I was 13 years old once and much put upon; or so it seemed at the time so I'll let that one go. 'Remember the milk? You still haven't put it back in the fridge'. So he stumps down, flings the milk into the fridge and slams the door shut. We'll draw a veil over the lecture that followed.
Today I came home primed for more of the same. It was not to be. And I don't say alas. Yes, there was the same parade of plates and glasses going up the stairs; but for a change there was a matching parade of used plates and glasses coming down the stairs.
Let me at least have the illusion of progress.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Stars and Stripes
as promised, the expatiation of the number of stars that appear on US flags in the movies.
The number of stripes is a given; it's always 13; the count of the original colonies that formed the United States. (I'm going to ace that citizenship exam ).
The number of stars varies according to the era. You'll notice that M*A*S*H always shows the 48 star flag because, even though the series was made in the 1970's it's set at the time of the Korean War when there were only 48 states.
So much is obvious.
I take a perverse delight in comparing the number of stars shown on the US flag to the time in which the movie is set. For instance, in Tommy[^] there's a scene right at the start of the film where they're celebrating the end of WW2. The camera pans across a vista of flags (I note that the Australian flag is shown reversed - tut tut ). The US flag has 50 stars. Someone didn't do their research.
In The Patriot[^] they're very careful to show the 13 star flag with the stars arranged in a circle whenever you see the flag in closeup. But during the long shot battle scenes if you look really carefully you can see that the stars on the US flags are arranged in a rectangular array. Given that the movie was made in 1999 (released in 2000) I'd bet those flags have 50 stars.
In Gangs of New York[^] the number of stars varies. As far as I can tell the variation follows the admission of new states into the union. Certainly as time passes the number of stars increases.
And so I started to wonder. If Alaska became the 49th state on January 3, 1959 and Hawaii became the 50th state on August 21, 1959 what happened to flags in the movies during that time. It's somewhat complicated by the fact that the flags didn't change on those dates. I quote the following text[^].
'Following Alaska's admission in January, 1959, a new flag with 49 stars was designed and first flew over Independence Hall in Philadelphia on July 4, 1959. It would be the official flag for only a year. The 50 star flag became the 27th flag on July 4, 1960, and remains the official flag of the United States.'
So far I've only found one movie that shows the 49 star flag and that movie is On the Beach[^].
The number of stripes is a given; it's always 13; the count of the original colonies that formed the United States. (I'm going to ace that citizenship exam ).
The number of stars varies according to the era. You'll notice that M*A*S*H always shows the 48 star flag because, even though the series was made in the 1970's it's set at the time of the Korean War when there were only 48 states.
So much is obvious.
I take a perverse delight in comparing the number of stars shown on the US flag to the time in which the movie is set. For instance, in Tommy[^] there's a scene right at the start of the film where they're celebrating the end of WW2. The camera pans across a vista of flags (I note that the Australian flag is shown reversed - tut tut ). The US flag has 50 stars. Someone didn't do their research.
In The Patriot[^] they're very careful to show the 13 star flag with the stars arranged in a circle whenever you see the flag in closeup. But during the long shot battle scenes if you look really carefully you can see that the stars on the US flags are arranged in a rectangular array. Given that the movie was made in 1999 (released in 2000) I'd bet those flags have 50 stars.
In Gangs of New York[^] the number of stars varies. As far as I can tell the variation follows the admission of new states into the union. Certainly as time passes the number of stars increases.
And so I started to wonder. If Alaska became the 49th state on January 3, 1959 and Hawaii became the 50th state on August 21, 1959 what happened to flags in the movies during that time. It's somewhat complicated by the fact that the flags didn't change on those dates. I quote the following text[^].
'Following Alaska's admission in January, 1959, a new flag with 49 stars was designed and first flew over Independence Hall in Philadelphia on July 4, 1959. It would be the official flag for only a year. The 50 star flag became the 27th flag on July 4, 1960, and remains the official flag of the United States.'
So far I've only found one movie that shows the 49 star flag and that movie is On the Beach[^].
Squash Courts
when I was about 5 years old my mother used to take me to Williamstown Beach. We had no car in those days; so we took the bus along Barkly Street to Geelong Road and changed to the Williamstown bus which went down Williamstown Road and Melbourne Road. At the corner of Ferguson Street there was a squash court.
I knew what squashing was and I'd recently heard about court (doubtless my father on a charge of drunk and disorderly). I remember the visceral fear I felt when I saw those two words together; Squash Court. Surely they didn't squash people, did they?
This is as good a place as any to slip this nugget in. At the same beach two years earlier I won a beautiful baby contest. Yes, I was judged the most beautiful baby of 1957! My picture appeared on the front page of the Sun newspaper. All I can say is that if I won there must have been some butt ugly babies around!
I knew what squashing was and I'd recently heard about court (doubtless my father on a charge of drunk and disorderly). I remember the visceral fear I felt when I saw those two words together; Squash Court. Surely they didn't squash people, did they?
This is as good a place as any to slip this nugget in. At the same beach two years earlier I won a beautiful baby contest. Yes, I was judged the most beautiful baby of 1957! My picture appeared on the front page of the Sun newspaper. All I can say is that if I won there must have been some butt ugly babies around!
My oath
about 4 years ago I was called up for Jury Duty. It would have been the third or fourth time and I STILL haven't been selected onto a Jury. Usually they take one look at me and issue an instant challenge and I find myself sitting amongst the rejects wondering what they didn't like this time .
On the most recent occasion we were taken into the court room and the judge explained the basics - including a list of the major witnesses; if you've been called up you know how it works. He explained among other things that the case would probably last 6 weeks. This was about 4 weeks before I was due to take a trip to New Zealand (personal business as opposed to company travel) on a ticket I'd already paid for. So I was one of about 50 people (of 200 or so prospective jurors) who indicated a desire to be excused from that particular case. The judge probably sighed in exasperation!
One by one we took our oaths and explained why we felt we had an especial reason to be excused from sitting on this case. It was the usual litany of reasons; one was a salesperson who couldn't afford the loss of time; another was a working mother; a third was concerned at the time away from seeking a job. (I don't know about elsewhere but in Victoria, my home state, your employer is required to make up the difference between what the state pays a juror and the normal wage that would be earned by that person).
One by one the judge listened to each excuse, asked pertinent questions; and one by one he rejected each excuse. It was beginning to look like I was going to have to run the chance of being empannelled!
In the end, of those 50 or so people who wanted to be excused only 2 were. I was one of them. The other was excused because she was related to one of the primary prosecution witnesses. Me? This is my guess as to why...
Of all the people who took an oath before proferring their excuse I was the only one who asked to take an affirmation. I'm an atheist and I won't swear on a bible. The usher seemed a trifle flustered by this. I'm guessing there aren't that many people who make a fuss about it. But I was adamant. They wanted me to take the judiciary seriously; I wanted them to understand that I'll do things honestly but I won't start by swearing to a power I don't believe in.
I'm going to go out on a limb here. I have no doubt that there are many many people who devoutly hold religious beliefs and who would feel an oath upon the bible is binding. But surely not 98% of the population! I think the judge was swayed by my insistence on taking an affirmation that what I answered in examination was in fact the truth.
On the most recent occasion we were taken into the court room and the judge explained the basics - including a list of the major witnesses; if you've been called up you know how it works. He explained among other things that the case would probably last 6 weeks. This was about 4 weeks before I was due to take a trip to New Zealand (personal business as opposed to company travel) on a ticket I'd already paid for. So I was one of about 50 people (of 200 or so prospective jurors) who indicated a desire to be excused from that particular case. The judge probably sighed in exasperation!
One by one we took our oaths and explained why we felt we had an especial reason to be excused from sitting on this case. It was the usual litany of reasons; one was a salesperson who couldn't afford the loss of time; another was a working mother; a third was concerned at the time away from seeking a job. (I don't know about elsewhere but in Victoria, my home state, your employer is required to make up the difference between what the state pays a juror and the normal wage that would be earned by that person).
One by one the judge listened to each excuse, asked pertinent questions; and one by one he rejected each excuse. It was beginning to look like I was going to have to run the chance of being empannelled!
In the end, of those 50 or so people who wanted to be excused only 2 were. I was one of them. The other was excused because she was related to one of the primary prosecution witnesses. Me? This is my guess as to why...
Of all the people who took an oath before proferring their excuse I was the only one who asked to take an affirmation. I'm an atheist and I won't swear on a bible. The usher seemed a trifle flustered by this. I'm guessing there aren't that many people who make a fuss about it. But I was adamant. They wanted me to take the judiciary seriously; I wanted them to understand that I'll do things honestly but I won't start by swearing to a power I don't believe in.
I'm going to go out on a limb here. I have no doubt that there are many many people who devoutly hold religious beliefs and who would feel an oath upon the bible is binding. But surely not 98% of the population! I think the judge was swayed by my insistence on taking an affirmation that what I answered in examination was in fact the truth.
Monday, March 07, 2005
When Hollywood went to Melbourne
in 1959 this was the result[^]. I just watched it again.
I honestly can't recommend the film; I find it boring and long winded. I also find it totally fascinating. Uh a paradox you say? Uh huh. (Why do I feel like launching into that song from Gilbert and Sullivan? ). It's a personal thing!
The interest, for me, lies in the fact that it was shot in Melbourne and suburbs when I was about 5 years old. There are shots of Flinders Street, Frankston Station, the GPO (General Post Office), McGills, RMIT (Royal Melbourne Institute of Techology) and the Victorian State Library that date from about the first time I saw those places in person. Let's not even dwell on Portmans in Swanston Street, arrayed next to Croft's with nary a sign of the McDonalds that would in later decades take over that location. Toward the end of the film we see the vestibule of the Queen Victoria Hospital, Lonsdale Street. I'm not completely certain but I think the part we see is the part that still stands today; my wife and I were married there in 2002.
Anyone who's lived in Melbourne and walked up Swanston Street past the State Library would recognise the statue of the digger clad in his mudware. The camera pans up past his face, across the library building and northeastward. Nowadays there are office towers but in this footage you see sky and cloud. This matches my memories of Sunday afternoons at the Sydney Myer Music Bowl in 1959/1960 when, looking northward toward the city the tallest building on the skyline was St Pauls Cathedral, closely rivalled by the Mutual building on the corner of Collins and Swanston streets. Nowadays it's dwarfed by the Commonwealth Bank Building, BHP house (old and new) and a thousand other buildings.
I find it fascinating watching outside centre frame; those people are locals. My aunt told me sometime in the mid 1970's that my father was one of the extras in the film but I haven't, to this day, found him. Maybe he was and I don't recognise him; or maybe he was and he fell to the cutting room floor. *shrug*
Early in the film you see a train arrive at Frankston Railway Station. I can remember the station when it looked that way; it's long since been demolished and rebuilt.
One thing I hadn't realised; Most of the trains you see are the 'Tait's' but you do see the odd 'Harris' train. I'd always thought the 'Harris' trains were introduced in 1961 but there they are in 1959. (The Taits are the old red rattlers, the Harris's were the blue trains). For my money the Taits were a lot more comfortable. It's fascinating to see 'SMOKING' stenciled on the outside of the carriages. Had the movie been made 2 years earlier we'd have also seen 'Third Class' stenciled but suburban class travel was dropped in 1958.
Oh, and in the shot of the American submarine at the start of the movie; I still framed and counted the stars on the flag; it was the 49 star flag (this means that piece of footage was shot after June 1959 and that someone was paying attention). I'll expatiate in another post about stars on the flag in movies.
I honestly can't recommend the film; I find it boring and long winded. I also find it totally fascinating. Uh a paradox you say? Uh huh. (Why do I feel like launching into that song from Gilbert and Sullivan? ). It's a personal thing!
The interest, for me, lies in the fact that it was shot in Melbourne and suburbs when I was about 5 years old. There are shots of Flinders Street, Frankston Station, the GPO (General Post Office), McGills, RMIT (Royal Melbourne Institute of Techology) and the Victorian State Library that date from about the first time I saw those places in person. Let's not even dwell on Portmans in Swanston Street, arrayed next to Croft's with nary a sign of the McDonalds that would in later decades take over that location. Toward the end of the film we see the vestibule of the Queen Victoria Hospital, Lonsdale Street. I'm not completely certain but I think the part we see is the part that still stands today; my wife and I were married there in 2002.
Anyone who's lived in Melbourne and walked up Swanston Street past the State Library would recognise the statue of the digger clad in his mudware. The camera pans up past his face, across the library building and northeastward. Nowadays there are office towers but in this footage you see sky and cloud. This matches my memories of Sunday afternoons at the Sydney Myer Music Bowl in 1959/1960 when, looking northward toward the city the tallest building on the skyline was St Pauls Cathedral, closely rivalled by the Mutual building on the corner of Collins and Swanston streets. Nowadays it's dwarfed by the Commonwealth Bank Building, BHP house (old and new) and a thousand other buildings.
I find it fascinating watching outside centre frame; those people are locals. My aunt told me sometime in the mid 1970's that my father was one of the extras in the film but I haven't, to this day, found him. Maybe he was and I don't recognise him; or maybe he was and he fell to the cutting room floor. *shrug*
Early in the film you see a train arrive at Frankston Railway Station. I can remember the station when it looked that way; it's long since been demolished and rebuilt.
One thing I hadn't realised; Most of the trains you see are the 'Tait's' but you do see the odd 'Harris' train. I'd always thought the 'Harris' trains were introduced in 1961 but there they are in 1959. (The Taits are the old red rattlers, the Harris's were the blue trains). For my money the Taits were a lot more comfortable. It's fascinating to see 'SMOKING' stenciled on the outside of the carriages. Had the movie been made 2 years earlier we'd have also seen 'Third Class' stenciled but suburban class travel was dropped in 1958.
Oh, and in the shot of the American submarine at the start of the movie; I still framed and counted the stars on the flag; it was the 49 star flag (this means that piece of footage was shot after June 1959 and that someone was paying attention). I'll expatiate in another post about stars on the flag in movies.
Cemeteries
for almost as long as I can remember I've been fascinated by cemeteries. I can hear the tut tut's and see the shaking of the heads from here! Wow, we knew he was a morbid bastard and here he is confirming it.
Well no, actually. I can't deny that, by it's very nature, a cemetery is a place full of dead people. But that doesn't mean that a cemetery is dead.
My grandmother took me to cemeteries when I was very young. I can't remember if it was before or after my father died but it would be a crap shoot either way. My grandmother was a christian and she tried to imbue me with christian values as she saw them. One of the things she told me was that the body stayed on earth without elaborating much further. This led me, as a 5 or 6 year old to ask her one day, at Footscray Cemetery, the following question.
'if the body stays here what happens to the head'.
A completely reasonable question for a 6 year old wouldn't you agree? I never did get a satisfactory answer. I think it wasn't so much that there was no satisfactory answer; merely that the question was so far outside my grandmothers expectations that she couldn't understand where I was coming from.
My grandmother died in 1966; years passed and I found myself seeking out her grave (and my fathers) in 1972. I was lucky that I made the search then; by 1979 all traces that would have allowed me to match an entry in the records of the cemetery with physical evidence had been erased. You'll have to go searching back issues of the Footscray Mail for the details but there was a scam running through the 1970's to destroy those records so that grave plots could be sold a second time. A part of the scam was that the grave markers (cast iron stakes with numbers on them) were plucked out of the ground and piled up by the hundreds. A grave with a tombstone was safe; but our family grave lacks a tombstone.
I'd found the grave in 1972 and to this day I remember the adjacent graves; Jackson on the right, an unmarked plot to the left and to the left of that Medway. On the same row about a hundred metres east, Jecholiah F Kingsbury, who died on March 8 1879. The only occurence of the name Jecholiah I've ever seen!
And therein lies the appeal of the cemetery. All these people who've lived, breathed, loved, sweated, drank, laughed, smoked, enjoyed life, faced their mortality and gone under the ground. They existed once and when I or anyone else walks past their graves they exist again; if only for the briefest moment as I think of them. They are our history. And one day I shall be as dead as they are; I can only hope that someone will walk past my grave and see
'Robert Clyde Manderson'
Born June 21 1954
Died ???
and think, wow, 1954. That was soooo long ago. I wonder what he was like! Well that won't do me a lot of good; I'll be already dead. But maybe they'll look up the history of my times and think 'we can do better'. Wouldn't that be a good legacy?
Well no, actually. I can't deny that, by it's very nature, a cemetery is a place full of dead people. But that doesn't mean that a cemetery is dead.
My grandmother took me to cemeteries when I was very young. I can't remember if it was before or after my father died but it would be a crap shoot either way. My grandmother was a christian and she tried to imbue me with christian values as she saw them. One of the things she told me was that the body stayed on earth without elaborating much further. This led me, as a 5 or 6 year old to ask her one day, at Footscray Cemetery, the following question.
'if the body stays here what happens to the head'.
A completely reasonable question for a 6 year old wouldn't you agree? I never did get a satisfactory answer. I think it wasn't so much that there was no satisfactory answer; merely that the question was so far outside my grandmothers expectations that she couldn't understand where I was coming from.
My grandmother died in 1966; years passed and I found myself seeking out her grave (and my fathers) in 1972. I was lucky that I made the search then; by 1979 all traces that would have allowed me to match an entry in the records of the cemetery with physical evidence had been erased. You'll have to go searching back issues of the Footscray Mail for the details but there was a scam running through the 1970's to destroy those records so that grave plots could be sold a second time. A part of the scam was that the grave markers (cast iron stakes with numbers on them) were plucked out of the ground and piled up by the hundreds. A grave with a tombstone was safe; but our family grave lacks a tombstone.
I'd found the grave in 1972 and to this day I remember the adjacent graves; Jackson on the right, an unmarked plot to the left and to the left of that Medway. On the same row about a hundred metres east, Jecholiah F Kingsbury, who died on March 8 1879. The only occurence of the name Jecholiah I've ever seen!
And therein lies the appeal of the cemetery. All these people who've lived, breathed, loved, sweated, drank, laughed, smoked, enjoyed life, faced their mortality and gone under the ground. They existed once and when I or anyone else walks past their graves they exist again; if only for the briefest moment as I think of them. They are our history. And one day I shall be as dead as they are; I can only hope that someone will walk past my grave and see
'Robert Clyde Manderson'
Born June 21 1954
Died ???
and think, wow, 1954. That was soooo long ago. I wonder what he was like! Well that won't do me a lot of good; I'll be already dead. But maybe they'll look up the history of my times and think 'we can do better'. Wouldn't that be a good legacy?
Sunday, March 06, 2005
It's all a matter of classification
I've been reviewing the N400 form needed to apply for US citizenship. The form is here[^]. Yeah, it's 6 months away but there's nothing like being prepared. I find it includes these questions.
Page 7 - Q9. Have you EVER been a member of or in any way associated (either directly or indirectly) with:
a: The communist party?
b: Any other totalitarian party?
c: A terrorist organization?
Hmmmm. Which communist party? I've never been a member of the Australian Labour Party but I've certainly voted for em, and they were (in the 1970's) a left-wing party. Would membership of the Australian Communist Party (which would be a joke) disqualify me?
Now I know they've given themselves an out in part b of the question; but the implication is that communist parties are the main evil. Presumably part b is meant to cover the fascists (Argentina in the 1970's), (Italy from 1922 to 1943) etc. But, to my reading, the entire thrust of the question is biased against left-wing thought.
It gets better. Q12 doesn't ask if you had been a member of the German Nazi party; merely if at anytime between March 23 1933 and May 8 1945 you had worked for or associated in any way with the Nazi's. Methinks that's rather a broad brush. Suppose you'd been working for a German newspaper on March 22 1933 and the next day you were still working for them. Would that count? Even if you'd been naive and not been able to foresee the next dozen years? Or suppose you'd known someone who was a member of the party and dined with them? That word 'associate' would condemn you whatever your 'association'. Hmmm, one of the people at my office is a Republican; geeze does that make ME a Republican? (for the record - over my dead body).
Now as it happens my first wifes father was a pilot for the Luftwaffe during WW2. I met him once, in 1979. Does that mean I need to answer YES to that question?
I remember being somewhat amazed when, in 1982 whilst filling out my application for a 5 year multiple entry visa to the US (this was before the days of the Visa Waiver Program) I had to declare that I had never been a member of the German Nazi Party. Even when the VWP was phased in that question remained though it's since been dropped. We're now 60 years past the end of Nazi Germany; I wonder how much longer that question will remain.
I have to admit I also wonder at the fate of those who were members of the German/American Bund in the 1930's.
Page 7 - Q9. Have you EVER been a member of or in any way associated (either directly or indirectly) with:
a: The communist party?
b: Any other totalitarian party?
c: A terrorist organization?
Hmmmm. Which communist party? I've never been a member of the Australian Labour Party but I've certainly voted for em, and they were (in the 1970's) a left-wing party. Would membership of the Australian Communist Party (which would be a joke) disqualify me?
Now I know they've given themselves an out in part b of the question; but the implication is that communist parties are the main evil. Presumably part b is meant to cover the fascists (Argentina in the 1970's), (Italy from 1922 to 1943) etc. But, to my reading, the entire thrust of the question is biased against left-wing thought.
It gets better. Q12 doesn't ask if you had been a member of the German Nazi party; merely if at anytime between March 23 1933 and May 8 1945 you had worked for or associated in any way with the Nazi's. Methinks that's rather a broad brush. Suppose you'd been working for a German newspaper on March 22 1933 and the next day you were still working for them. Would that count? Even if you'd been naive and not been able to foresee the next dozen years? Or suppose you'd known someone who was a member of the party and dined with them? That word 'associate' would condemn you whatever your 'association'. Hmmm, one of the people at my office is a Republican; geeze does that make ME a Republican? (for the record - over my dead body).
Now as it happens my first wifes father was a pilot for the Luftwaffe during WW2. I met him once, in 1979. Does that mean I need to answer YES to that question?
I remember being somewhat amazed when, in 1982 whilst filling out my application for a 5 year multiple entry visa to the US (this was before the days of the Visa Waiver Program) I had to declare that I had never been a member of the German Nazi Party. Even when the VWP was phased in that question remained though it's since been dropped. We're now 60 years past the end of Nazi Germany; I wonder how much longer that question will remain.
I have to admit I also wonder at the fate of those who were members of the German/American Bund in the 1930's.
Sometimes you need a clock
I haven't owned or worn a watch for more than a dozen years. I don't like em, I don't need em and I won't use em.
I find I can generally guess to within half an hour what the time is and I don't know how I do it. Can't be hunger; I don't eat by the clock. Can't be daylight, I can guess the time even after dark. I suppose I must have a watchdog timer inside my head .
Early in the second half of 1970 I was needed at the workshop at 6:00 AM - after all this time I can't even imagine why let alone remember. In those days I was neither licensed to drive a car nor did I have one. I took the train to work. The first train ran from St Albans at about 5:00 AM and if I caught that one I'd get to South Kensington station about 5:35 AM. From there it was about a 20 minute walk to the workshop. I could, of course, take the train to the next station, North Melbourne but the first train from North Melbourne to Kensington station after that would make me late.
So I went to bed very early that night. I'd set my alarm clock for about 4:15 AM. It was a 20 minute walk to St Albans station.
I awoke to the shrill of an engine whistle. Frantically I scrambled into my clothes and set off at a run for the station, convinced I'd missed the first train and would be late to work. I remember how cold it was; it would have been about 4C and that's plenty cold where I come from! .
Imagine my surprise when I discovered I'd run to catch the last train of the evening; it was about 12:45 AM. Of course I overslept the next day and was very late to work.
I find I can generally guess to within half an hour what the time is and I don't know how I do it. Can't be hunger; I don't eat by the clock. Can't be daylight, I can guess the time even after dark. I suppose I must have a watchdog timer inside my head .
Early in the second half of 1970 I was needed at the workshop at 6:00 AM - after all this time I can't even imagine why let alone remember. In those days I was neither licensed to drive a car nor did I have one. I took the train to work. The first train ran from St Albans at about 5:00 AM and if I caught that one I'd get to South Kensington station about 5:35 AM. From there it was about a 20 minute walk to the workshop. I could, of course, take the train to the next station, North Melbourne but the first train from North Melbourne to Kensington station after that would make me late.
So I went to bed very early that night. I'd set my alarm clock for about 4:15 AM. It was a 20 minute walk to St Albans station.
I awoke to the shrill of an engine whistle. Frantically I scrambled into my clothes and set off at a run for the station, convinced I'd missed the first train and would be late to work. I remember how cold it was; it would have been about 4C and that's plenty cold where I come from! .
Imagine my surprise when I discovered I'd run to catch the last train of the evening; it was about 12:45 AM. Of course I overslept the next day and was very late to work.
Saturday, March 05, 2005
An anticlimax
as you know, today was my appointment with INS. Now you have to understand that before one embarks upon such a large change as emigrating to another country one of the things one does is research everything including the immigration laws. Saying that is rather like saying before diving into water you take a breath.
The internet is one obvious resource but only a fool believes everything he reads on the 'net. However, I personally know another Australian here in Phoenix who's going through the same process (I worked with her husband back in Melbourne in the 1990's); one of my workmates was married to an Australian going through the process and my wife's ex-boss is still going through the process. Based on anecdotal evidence from all three I expected most of my day to be spent at INS for 10 minutes of formality. According to my wife's ex-boss he used to have to queue at 4:00 AM to be sure of an interview that day. This jibes with the internet anecdotes. Things have changed much since then! Phoenix now makes appointments through their website. One makes an appointment 2 or 3 weeks hence and prints the confirmation web page.
Thus I made my appointment using the Phoenix INS website 2 weeks ago; for 1:15 PM. As I've previously written, I did the necessary searching for the building last week. Even so, I arrived an hour early. The appointment letter warns that they won't let you in earlier than 15 minutes before the appointment and based on today that seems to be true; they were asking everyone what their appointed time was. So I went for a walk to kill time and arrived back at 12:59 PM.
Airport style security; the only difference being that you don't have to take off your shoes. Otherwise it was identical! Then stand in line until I can hand over my appointment letter. She confirmed the date, checked the number and stapled a tag to the letter. I'm appointment E791 for the day. Up the stairs to the waiting room and watch the number board. They were up to E782. It dings every time the number changes so I was free to read my book (L'Assomoir by Emile Zola). It's now 1:12 PM.
Incidentally, I was pleased to notice in France that even the digital alarm clock in my hotel room is 24 hour; and all times I saw printed on, for example, the restaurant windows, were in 24 hour format. Very civilised. But I digress.
At 1:49 PM my number dinged! Fronted up at the desk and launched into the 'g'day' routine. She opens my passport and says 'oh, you're an Australian'. I couldn't deny it! 'I bet you don't see many of us here'. She admitted she didn't. Then she noticed the logo on my windcheater. I bought it at Mannys Beach Club down in Mexico on a cold night a couple of years ago. Her face lit up. 'Did you like Mannys Beach Club?'. Again, I couldn't deny it. 'A lot of fun' said I.
Then she takes my photos, the appointment letter aforesaid and tells me to go to the door down there. Sign a form on both sides and she takes my fingerprint. Not plural; just my right forefinger. She got prints she was happy with the first time. When I came through LA in November 2002 to activate my immigrant visa the guy there took at least 20 prints before he was happy with em. It seems that when you're not used to being fingerprinted your muscles resist and it smudges the prints. The guy at LA told me to stare into the distance and ignore what he was doing with my hand; try as I might I couldn't relax enough. (And when I had my full fingerprints taken in April 2002 for the Australia wide police check required for a US immigration visa the cop who did it said it was obvious I'd never before been printed. When I asked why he said 'you can always tell if someone's used to being printed - they know to roll their fingers').
Prints taken it was back to the main window. She stamped my passport with a years extension and it was over. Total elapsed time? About 6 minutes. I was outside the building and enjoying a smoke at 1:57 PM.
She advised that it might take from 6 to 8 months for my 10 year greencard to arrive; but based on how quickly my first greencard arrived, 2 weeks, I suspect it'll be earlier. If not, I'll probably have filed my N400 (application for citizenship) before it arrives.
The internet is one obvious resource but only a fool believes everything he reads on the 'net. However, I personally know another Australian here in Phoenix who's going through the same process (I worked with her husband back in Melbourne in the 1990's); one of my workmates was married to an Australian going through the process and my wife's ex-boss is still going through the process. Based on anecdotal evidence from all three I expected most of my day to be spent at INS for 10 minutes of formality. According to my wife's ex-boss he used to have to queue at 4:00 AM to be sure of an interview that day. This jibes with the internet anecdotes. Things have changed much since then! Phoenix now makes appointments through their website. One makes an appointment 2 or 3 weeks hence and prints the confirmation web page.
Thus I made my appointment using the Phoenix INS website 2 weeks ago; for 1:15 PM. As I've previously written, I did the necessary searching for the building last week. Even so, I arrived an hour early. The appointment letter warns that they won't let you in earlier than 15 minutes before the appointment and based on today that seems to be true; they were asking everyone what their appointed time was. So I went for a walk to kill time and arrived back at 12:59 PM.
Airport style security; the only difference being that you don't have to take off your shoes. Otherwise it was identical! Then stand in line until I can hand over my appointment letter. She confirmed the date, checked the number and stapled a tag to the letter. I'm appointment E791 for the day. Up the stairs to the waiting room and watch the number board. They were up to E782. It dings every time the number changes so I was free to read my book (L'Assomoir by Emile Zola). It's now 1:12 PM.
Incidentally, I was pleased to notice in France that even the digital alarm clock in my hotel room is 24 hour; and all times I saw printed on, for example, the restaurant windows, were in 24 hour format. Very civilised. But I digress.
At 1:49 PM my number dinged! Fronted up at the desk and launched into the 'g'day' routine. She opens my passport and says 'oh, you're an Australian'. I couldn't deny it! 'I bet you don't see many of us here'. She admitted she didn't. Then she noticed the logo on my windcheater. I bought it at Mannys Beach Club down in Mexico on a cold night a couple of years ago. Her face lit up. 'Did you like Mannys Beach Club?'. Again, I couldn't deny it. 'A lot of fun' said I.
Then she takes my photos, the appointment letter aforesaid and tells me to go to the door down there. Sign a form on both sides and she takes my fingerprint. Not plural; just my right forefinger. She got prints she was happy with the first time. When I came through LA in November 2002 to activate my immigrant visa the guy there took at least 20 prints before he was happy with em. It seems that when you're not used to being fingerprinted your muscles resist and it smudges the prints. The guy at LA told me to stare into the distance and ignore what he was doing with my hand; try as I might I couldn't relax enough. (And when I had my full fingerprints taken in April 2002 for the Australia wide police check required for a US immigration visa the cop who did it said it was obvious I'd never before been printed. When I asked why he said 'you can always tell if someone's used to being printed - they know to roll their fingers').
Prints taken it was back to the main window. She stamped my passport with a years extension and it was over. Total elapsed time? About 6 minutes. I was outside the building and enjoying a smoke at 1:57 PM.
She advised that it might take from 6 to 8 months for my 10 year greencard to arrive; but based on how quickly my first greencard arrived, 2 weeks, I suspect it'll be earlier. If not, I'll probably have filed my N400 (application for citizenship) before it arrives.
Armadillos
you'll have read that I spent most of the past 3 or 4 weeks in Dallas Texas. Those were neither my first nor my longest visits to Dallas. My first visit was in December 1995 and January 1996. Around the second week of January 1996 I took a side trip to Orlando Florida to spend some time with Hank, who had an idea for the Killer App for Windows 95; he wanted me to write it for him and we'd share the profits.
I really can't even remember what the Killer App was; but I do remember that I was monumentally unimpressed by it; it seemed to me to be an awful lot of work for an app that would have only limited appeal!
Hank and I argued about it for a while. He had the conviction of the evangelist; I the zeal of the atheist.
After the second day Hank gave me a choice; I could visit DisneyWorld or I could go to Kennedy Space Centre. I chose Kennedy. So we drove up Interstate 95. As far as I can remember it's about a 2 hour drive. Along the way Hank made one last attempt to convert me into an apostle of the Killer App but it didn't work. So we talked about other things. Among those other things I made the casual comment 'hey, we're on I95. Isn't that the highway with the snipers?'. In the early 1990's a sniper had been taking potshots at tourists. Hank said 'you don't need to worry about that - I'm packing'. And he reached over to the glove box in front of me and pulled out a gun! Then, as if to convince me that he had some serious hardware, he reached under his seat and pulled out a second gun!
Now I'm an innocent Aussie. I only know one Australian who owns a gun. Guns are certainly not a part of our culture in the way that they are in the USA. My reaction was not positive.
About 5 minutes later Hank said; 'Rob, you have a very important decision to make in the next 10 minutes'. And then he turned off the highway onto a dirt road that disappeared into some undergrowth! At about this time I'm starting seriously to believe that these are my last few minutes left on this planet. I'm frantically trying to decide if perhaps I should grab that gun out of the glove box.
We passed some trees and he stopped. I'm sure you can imagine what was going through my mind. Then he points; 'see those?' I looked whilst trying to keep him in my peripheral vision.
We watched the Armadillos frolicing in the sand for a few minutes and then continued to Kennedy Space Centre!
I really can't even remember what the Killer App was; but I do remember that I was monumentally unimpressed by it; it seemed to me to be an awful lot of work for an app that would have only limited appeal!
Hank and I argued about it for a while. He had the conviction of the evangelist; I the zeal of the atheist.
After the second day Hank gave me a choice; I could visit DisneyWorld or I could go to Kennedy Space Centre. I chose Kennedy. So we drove up Interstate 95. As far as I can remember it's about a 2 hour drive. Along the way Hank made one last attempt to convert me into an apostle of the Killer App but it didn't work. So we talked about other things. Among those other things I made the casual comment 'hey, we're on I95. Isn't that the highway with the snipers?'. In the early 1990's a sniper had been taking potshots at tourists. Hank said 'you don't need to worry about that - I'm packing'. And he reached over to the glove box in front of me and pulled out a gun! Then, as if to convince me that he had some serious hardware, he reached under his seat and pulled out a second gun!
Now I'm an innocent Aussie. I only know one Australian who owns a gun. Guns are certainly not a part of our culture in the way that they are in the USA. My reaction was not positive.
About 5 minutes later Hank said; 'Rob, you have a very important decision to make in the next 10 minutes'. And then he turned off the highway onto a dirt road that disappeared into some undergrowth! At about this time I'm starting seriously to believe that these are my last few minutes left on this planet. I'm frantically trying to decide if perhaps I should grab that gun out of the glove box.
We passed some trees and he stopped. I'm sure you can imagine what was going through my mind. Then he points; 'see those?' I looked whilst trying to keep him in my peripheral vision.
We watched the Armadillos frolicing in the sand for a few minutes and then continued to Kennedy Space Centre!
Battle lines part 2
I was home today by about 4 PM. There was no visible sign that Andrew had done anything about his room. I didn't check it as such but from what I could see from the bottom of the stairs it still bore a remarkable resemblance to a disaster site.
So I went and took a nap. About 6:30 PM I awoke and the house was empty. So I sneaked a look at his room and, I have to say, never has my flabber been so gasted! You could almost have eaten a meal off that floor. He and Mum got home about 15 minutes later; I said nothing. At 7 PM I did the big inspection. Yup - he'd missed a few spots; the broom was hiding behind the door; the Windex bottle had been forgotten but overall it was a credit to him.
I don't know what to make of this. Is Marc wrong? (I suspect not). Did Mum help? She swears she didn't but I am, after all, the wicked step-father .
Only time will tell. Andrew was grinning from ear to ear; he seemed pleased he'd amazed me. Mum keeps telling me he values my good opinion but I'm not sure I believe that! I suppose I should be wary of seeing my opinions and feelings about my step-father in him. Nonetheless, tonight he had my good opinion and I made sure he knew it.
So I went and took a nap. About 6:30 PM I awoke and the house was empty. So I sneaked a look at his room and, I have to say, never has my flabber been so gasted! You could almost have eaten a meal off that floor. He and Mum got home about 15 minutes later; I said nothing. At 7 PM I did the big inspection. Yup - he'd missed a few spots; the broom was hiding behind the door; the Windex bottle had been forgotten but overall it was a credit to him.
I don't know what to make of this. Is Marc wrong? (I suspect not). Did Mum help? She swears she didn't but I am, after all, the wicked step-father .
Only time will tell. Andrew was grinning from ear to ear; he seemed pleased he'd amazed me. Mum keeps telling me he values my good opinion but I'm not sure I believe that! I suppose I should be wary of seeing my opinions and feelings about my step-father in him. Nonetheless, tonight he had my good opinion and I made sure he knew it.
Friday, March 04, 2005
The age of miracles
is not yet passed...
Or, in other words, for the first time in nearly 3 months I'm back home in Phoenix without another trip on the horizon.
Of course that'll change by Monday. Indeed, my mobile phone shows an unanswered call from Kevin, our sales guy. But tomorrow, Friday, I have my appointment with INS and that's quite a bit more important than anything Kevin might want. I have to admit I'm a trifle surprised he even rang me; I thought I'd established that I don't answer company calls on my mobile phone; if they won't pay for the minutes I won't spend them. Anyone with a teenage step-daughter will understand that the way mobile phones are billed in the US makes one chary of using even one minute.
My flight from Albuquerque today came in via Northern Arizona. We would have passed somewhere close to Flagstaff; when I looked down through the cloud I could see snow. If you know much about the geography of Arizona you'll know that Southern Arizona is pretty much desert; long stretches of brown countryside extending down into Mexico. Northern Arizona (those parts I've seen - mainly on the drive from Phoenix to the Grand Canyon) has rather more green. So you'd imagine it came as quite a suprise when, a minute or two after looking down at green countryside, the pilot announced we were on our landing approach into Phoenix. How could this be?
Well, today was the first time I've returned to Phoenix by daylight since October last year. In the meantime we've had a lot of unseasonal rain. Indeed, I hardly recognised the city by air in daylight. All the hills, which I'm used to seeing in blues and browns, are now green. If Phoenix stays this way I think I'll quite like living here!
Or, in other words, for the first time in nearly 3 months I'm back home in Phoenix without another trip on the horizon.
Of course that'll change by Monday. Indeed, my mobile phone shows an unanswered call from Kevin, our sales guy. But tomorrow, Friday, I have my appointment with INS and that's quite a bit more important than anything Kevin might want. I have to admit I'm a trifle surprised he even rang me; I thought I'd established that I don't answer company calls on my mobile phone; if they won't pay for the minutes I won't spend them. Anyone with a teenage step-daughter will understand that the way mobile phones are billed in the US makes one chary of using even one minute.
My flight from Albuquerque today came in via Northern Arizona. We would have passed somewhere close to Flagstaff; when I looked down through the cloud I could see snow. If you know much about the geography of Arizona you'll know that Southern Arizona is pretty much desert; long stretches of brown countryside extending down into Mexico. Northern Arizona (those parts I've seen - mainly on the drive from Phoenix to the Grand Canyon) has rather more green. So you'd imagine it came as quite a suprise when, a minute or two after looking down at green countryside, the pilot announced we were on our landing approach into Phoenix. How could this be?
Well, today was the first time I've returned to Phoenix by daylight since October last year. In the meantime we've had a lot of unseasonal rain. Indeed, I hardly recognised the city by air in daylight. All the hills, which I'm used to seeing in blues and browns, are now green. If Phoenix stays this way I think I'll quite like living here!
Battle lines
so when I got home today I checked Andrews room. It was disgusting even by his standards. There would have been a couple of pints of milk distributed in various glasses throughout the wasteland; most of it in advanced stages of fermentation. I counted 7 plates with various amounts of ketchup and, judging by the encrustation, most dated from early this week.
Thus ensued the usual argument. 'I was going to do it but'. I didn't accept his excuses. When his TV set is warm I know he has time available to do his household tasks - he chooses not to perform them.
After much whining (and that was just from me!) we established a goal. He will have it all cleaned out, the plates and glasses scrubbed; the general mess tidied up and the entirety of the floor not obscured by furniture visible by 7 PM tomorrow. If he doesn't then he loses TV for the entire weekend. I won't remind him; he's nearly 14 and should be able to remember the goal and achieve it.
Doubtless he imagines that if I disconnect his antenna upstairs he'll be able to make do with our big screen set downstairs. He's an optimist!
Thus ensued the usual argument. 'I was going to do it but
After much whining (and that was just from me!) we established a goal. He will have it all cleaned out, the plates and glasses scrubbed; the general mess tidied up and the entirety of the floor not obscured by furniture visible by 7 PM tomorrow. If he doesn't then he loses TV for the entire weekend. I won't remind him; he's nearly 14 and should be able to remember the goal and achieve it.
Doubtless he imagines that if I disconnect his antenna upstairs he'll be able to make do with our big screen set downstairs. He's an optimist!
Thursday, March 03, 2005
And the light emerges from the tunnel
At noon today we had just one issue to be resolved. After lunch we came back and attacked it. At that moment I made a mistake that cost us about 3 hours and meant I couldn't leave today. A simple mistake; I didn't refresh the display (it's not as simple as hitting F5 - there are about 5 steps needed to make the hardware believe it's seen a change, if you're faking it - I didn't do them). By 4PM I knew both that we were working and why the thing I thought wasn't working really was working even if I didn't think it was. Convolution city huh?
We did one final dry run and called our customer over to see a demo. It worked flawlessly!
Our demo consists of taking a tray or two of semiconductors, loading them into a robot that picks each semiconductor up, inserts it into a test board, runs a quick functional test and unloads those that don't work. The board then goes into a burn-in oven where each semiconductor is tested at high temperatures. When the burn-in run finishes the board goes back to the robot and is unloaded. The robot unloads the devices that passed all tests into that tray; the ones that fail are unloaded into other trays depending on which test they failed.
We had to fake a failure during our burn-in run. We marked the chip that had been falsely failed and ran the unload. It was almost poetic to see the devices unloaded and to watch the progress of the marked chip to the failed tray! Even more magic; seeing every other chip make it to the 'passed' tray. Handshakes all around and a glass of beer an hour later to celebrate success (we made sure the sales guy, Kevin, got the tab ).
Along the way I had to make the odd tweak or two to the software; it's a DCOM component written in C++ running on one computer and called from a VB app, for which I have no responsibility, running on another computer. That's a fun debug. Source code I've never seen making calls through DCOM to source code I didn't write but have to maintain . Oh, did I mention there's a third machine involved running a database?
But we got it going and I checked all my source code changes back into our SourceSafe database in Phoenix. Gotta love VssConnect. Not long after I realised that this job would require me to travel frequently I investigated our options for remote access to a SourceSafe database. VssConnect seemed the best choice so I tested the (time limited) free download. It can use http as the transport mechanism and, given that our primary customer has a very aggressive firewall that blocks almost everything except http VssConnect seemed like a good choice. So it has proven to be. I can get to our SourceSafe repository from home, from Japan, from the Philippines, France, you name it. I can check out files, make changes and check em back in.
Contrast that with how it was half a year ago, when my predecessor was still working on the code. He'd send me emails with snippets of changed code and the request that I merge lines 457 to 501 of source.cpp with that snippet. Without the context it was damn near impossible to be sure I was making the right changes. More than enough incentive to go find an internet capable solution. Once I had the licenses in hand I sent him an email; 'I will no longer make any merges for you; check the files out as you work on em and check em back in when you're done'. It took probably two iterations to get the point across but eventually it sank in. Maybe that's why he refuses to make any further changes. Whatever. If he's not making changes it means I have one less source of concern!
We did one final dry run and called our customer over to see a demo. It worked flawlessly!
Our demo consists of taking a tray or two of semiconductors, loading them into a robot that picks each semiconductor up, inserts it into a test board, runs a quick functional test and unloads those that don't work. The board then goes into a burn-in oven where each semiconductor is tested at high temperatures. When the burn-in run finishes the board goes back to the robot and is unloaded. The robot unloads the devices that passed all tests into that tray; the ones that fail are unloaded into other trays depending on which test they failed.
We had to fake a failure during our burn-in run. We marked the chip that had been falsely failed and ran the unload. It was almost poetic to see the devices unloaded and to watch the progress of the marked chip to the failed tray! Even more magic; seeing every other chip make it to the 'passed' tray. Handshakes all around and a glass of beer an hour later to celebrate success (we made sure the sales guy, Kevin, got the tab ).
Along the way I had to make the odd tweak or two to the software; it's a DCOM component written in C++ running on one computer and called from a VB app, for which I have no responsibility, running on another computer. That's a fun debug. Source code I've never seen making calls through DCOM to source code I didn't write but have to maintain . Oh, did I mention there's a third machine involved running a database?
But we got it going and I checked all my source code changes back into our SourceSafe database in Phoenix. Gotta love VssConnect. Not long after I realised that this job would require me to travel frequently I investigated our options for remote access to a SourceSafe database. VssConnect seemed the best choice so I tested the (time limited) free download. It can use http as the transport mechanism and, given that our primary customer has a very aggressive firewall that blocks almost everything except http VssConnect seemed like a good choice. So it has proven to be. I can get to our SourceSafe repository from home, from Japan, from the Philippines, France, you name it. I can check out files, make changes and check em back in.
Contrast that with how it was half a year ago, when my predecessor was still working on the code. He'd send me emails with snippets of changed code and the request that I merge lines 457 to 501 of source.cpp with that snippet. Without the context it was damn near impossible to be sure I was making the right changes. More than enough incentive to go find an internet capable solution. Once I had the licenses in hand I sent him an email; 'I will no longer make any merges for you; check the files out as you work on em and check em back in when you're done'. It took probably two iterations to get the point across but eventually it sank in. Maybe that's why he refuses to make any further changes. Whatever. If he's not making changes it means I have one less source of concern!
G'day Ebony
in contrast to the situation in Nice, France, where we have probably 100 good restaurants within a 10 minute walk of the hotel, here in Richardson the only choices are McDonalds, Burger King and Grandy's.
I'll starve before I'll eat at any of those. I also enjoy a drink or three as I eat; so that rules out driving to a restaurant even if I had a car (which I don't). Thus room service.
With trips back home I've been here in the hotel for over three weeks so my voice is somewhat familiar to the people who answer the room service call. Tonight Ebony answered the phone again. The conversation went something like this:
Ebony: The blah blah (you didn't think I'd identify the hotel did you?) How are you?
Me: If I was any better I'd be dangerous!
Ebony: (Laughing, she's heard this before). That's good to hear. Ribs, no salad, Berry Misu and a glass of Sycamore Lane Merlot?
Me: (Laughing). Yes, you know me too well!
I'll starve before I'll eat at any of those. I also enjoy a drink or three as I eat; so that rules out driving to a restaurant even if I had a car (which I don't). Thus room service.
With trips back home I've been here in the hotel for over three weeks so my voice is somewhat familiar to the people who answer the room service call. Tonight Ebony answered the phone again. The conversation went something like this:
Ebony: The blah blah (you didn't think I'd identify the hotel did you?) How are you?
Me: If I was any better I'd be dangerous!
Ebony: (Laughing, she's heard this before). That's good to hear. Ribs, no salad, Berry Misu and a glass of Sycamore Lane Merlot?
Me: (Laughing). Yes, you know me too well!
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Nevinost bez zastite
see here[^] is just about my all time favourite movie. I don't really do favourites; how could one choose between A Clockwork Orange, Brighton Rock, Tommy, 2001: A Space Odyssey, War and Peace, Pennies from Heaven (the series not the movie), The Adding Machine, Footlight Parade, The Defiant Ones, The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner, Carry on up the Jungle etc...
But gut feeling tells me that Innocence Unprotected (the translation of the subject) is somewhat less well known. You'd guess well if you guessed I saw it on SBS TV, Australia. I taped it and just about wore out the tape.
The original movie was shot in Serbia in 1940 or 1941 during the German occupation. It seems it was shown in Serbia at the time and it's popularity as the first Serbian sound movie caused considerable consternation to the German authorities. The Germans ran colour movies against it (it's a black and white movie) and eventually it was withdrawn, sealed in a barrel and buried. Many years later (when Serbia was on the other side of the Iron Curtain) it was dug up and Dusan Makavejev saw it.
Now I'll be the first to admit that the original movie is crap. The acting is just plain embarrasing. But Dusan saw something in it that was worth preserving - hence this version. He turns it into something wonderful; cutting from the original 1941 footage to WW2 propoganda from the German side (footage of a German flight crew grimacing over cod liver oil and footage of the oil flow from Kiev to Berlin) and then cutting to interviews with the original cast shot in 1968. Most of the latter is shot at the grave of one of the actors in the original film.
It's a wonderful film and I can't wait for it to come out on DVD.
Oh, and Dusan Makavejev directed another film I like though I haven't seen it in nearly 20 years. The film is[^] (The Coca Cola kid). I saw it on HBO in San Francisco nearly 20 years ago. There's a wonderful line in it (I need to paint the scenario).
In this film the Coca Cola company are concerned that Coke sales in outback Australia have fallen so they send an executive to Australia to find out why. The executive decides that Coca Cola needs an Australian theme to their adverts so he hires an Australian rock band to do the music for the ads. At a rehearsal he asks the lead singer 'is this authentically Australian?'. The Australian replies 'it's as Australian as a shit sandwich'.
I was watching that scene with some American friends and I cracked up laughing. The more they asked what it meant the more I laughed. Almost 20 years later I still can't explain just why that line is so funny; but funny it surely is! You have to be an Australian to understand!
But gut feeling tells me that Innocence Unprotected (the translation of the subject) is somewhat less well known. You'd guess well if you guessed I saw it on SBS TV, Australia. I taped it and just about wore out the tape.
The original movie was shot in Serbia in 1940 or 1941 during the German occupation. It seems it was shown in Serbia at the time and it's popularity as the first Serbian sound movie caused considerable consternation to the German authorities. The Germans ran colour movies against it (it's a black and white movie) and eventually it was withdrawn, sealed in a barrel and buried. Many years later (when Serbia was on the other side of the Iron Curtain) it was dug up and Dusan Makavejev saw it.
Now I'll be the first to admit that the original movie is crap. The acting is just plain embarrasing. But Dusan saw something in it that was worth preserving - hence this version. He turns it into something wonderful; cutting from the original 1941 footage to WW2 propoganda from the German side (footage of a German flight crew grimacing over cod liver oil and footage of the oil flow from Kiev to Berlin) and then cutting to interviews with the original cast shot in 1968. Most of the latter is shot at the grave of one of the actors in the original film.
It's a wonderful film and I can't wait for it to come out on DVD.
Oh, and Dusan Makavejev directed another film I like though I haven't seen it in nearly 20 years. The film is[^] (The Coca Cola kid). I saw it on HBO in San Francisco nearly 20 years ago. There's a wonderful line in it (I need to paint the scenario).
In this film the Coca Cola company are concerned that Coke sales in outback Australia have fallen so they send an executive to Australia to find out why. The executive decides that Coca Cola needs an Australian theme to their adverts so he hires an Australian rock band to do the music for the ads. At a rehearsal he asks the lead singer 'is this authentically Australian?'. The Australian replies 'it's as Australian as a shit sandwich'.
I was watching that scene with some American friends and I cracked up laughing. The more they asked what it meant the more I laughed. Almost 20 years later I still can't explain just why that line is so funny; but funny it surely is! You have to be an Australian to understand!
There's light at the end of the tunnel
moreover the boom gates are down, the siren is blaring and the bells are ringing. Heino will understand :-)
In short, we got it working! Our robot now does the things I've been here in Dallas for the past three weeks to get it doing. It's a thing of beauty to see untested chips in the left hand tray make it to the burn in board; then to the oven and thence back to be sorted into categories depending on how they passed or failed.
All being well I will get to spend more than 3 or so days back in Phoenix.
However, we were doing this here in Dallas because it's easier here. We have to get it going in the Philippines and I suspect that after I get my passport stamp on Friday I'm going to find myself over there.
Sometime in 1999 Heino and I found ourselves, with Gary, at Robins house. Cutting a long and boring story short Gary needed to wash his hands. We were outside the house at the time and Gary spied a tap. So he turned it on but no water flowed. Heino and I both remember very clearly what happened next. Gary gazed along the pipe and saw a stopcock. Ah, he thought, the stopcock's stopped. So he reached for the stopcock and turned it. The stop cock had maybe 45 degrees turn betwen full off and full on. And, naturally, Gary had not turned the tap off. So as he turned the stopcock.... well you can guess. Heino and I both watched in amazement as Gary turned the water from full off to full on without closing the tap.
The truly evil thing is that both Heino and I knew what would happen; we chose to not say anything; sometimes you just have to let a mate make a dick of himself :-)
In short, we got it working! Our robot now does the things I've been here in Dallas for the past three weeks to get it doing. It's a thing of beauty to see untested chips in the left hand tray make it to the burn in board; then to the oven and thence back to be sorted into categories depending on how they passed or failed.
All being well I will get to spend more than 3 or so days back in Phoenix.
However, we were doing this here in Dallas because it's easier here. We have to get it going in the Philippines and I suspect that after I get my passport stamp on Friday I'm going to find myself over there.
Sometime in 1999 Heino and I found ourselves, with Gary, at Robins house. Cutting a long and boring story short Gary needed to wash his hands. We were outside the house at the time and Gary spied a tap. So he turned it on but no water flowed. Heino and I both remember very clearly what happened next. Gary gazed along the pipe and saw a stopcock. Ah, he thought, the stopcock's stopped. So he reached for the stopcock and turned it. The stop cock had maybe 45 degrees turn betwen full off and full on. And, naturally, Gary had not turned the tap off. So as he turned the stopcock.... well you can guess. Heino and I both watched in amazement as Gary turned the water from full off to full on without closing the tap.
The truly evil thing is that both Heino and I knew what would happen; we chose to not say anything; sometimes you just have to let a mate make a dick of himself :-)
How to miss the boat
4 or 5 months ago my employers were looking for someone who understood hardware but who also had an appreciation of software. Now based solely upon 16000+ posts on CodeProject I had no hesitation whatsoever in recommending our friend Roger Wright (of CP fame). I've never met the guy but reading his writing over the past 3 or so years led me to feel confident in putting his name up. Which I did. About 4 or 5 months ago.
As we CP regulars know, in the meantime he's found a job he enjoys.
Today I find in my email an impassioned request from management, who've FINALLY got around to reading his resume, for me to provide them with contact details. It's urgent for Christs sake.
I'd love to meet Roger - and I will sometime real soon now - as soon as I can persuade management to let me spend more than about 3 days in Arizona - but I wouldn't wish working for my employer on my worst enemy (well maybe I would - but definitely not on my second worst enemy).
Hmmm I'm glad Roger wasn't starving to death waiting for a call from the people I work for!
As we CP regulars know, in the meantime he's found a job he enjoys.
Today I find in my email an impassioned request from management, who've FINALLY got around to reading his resume, for me to provide them with contact details. It's urgent for Christs sake.
I'd love to meet Roger - and I will sometime real soon now - as soon as I can persuade management to let me spend more than about 3 days in Arizona - but I wouldn't wish working for my employer on my worst enemy (well maybe I would - but definitely not on my second worst enemy).
Hmmm I'm glad Roger wasn't starving to death waiting for a call from the people I work for!
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
South Texas
Today we had lunch at a cheap Texas BBQ place (you have no idea how much of a wrench it is to write BBQ rather than Barbecue). The food wasn't all that good but what do you want from a place that charges about 5 bucks for lunch! Sheesh!
But I had a good laugh. The guy behind the counter asked 'what's yours?'. I answered (and I honestly can't remember what the name is of the dish I ordered - smashed jack? or something like that - it was a baked spud with chipped beef and bacon bits on top). He took one look and...
'Which part of Texas are you from?'
'Australia, mate' I answered.
'Ah', he drawls, 'that must be East Texas'.
'Nope mate. It's Southern Texas!'
Yeah I know, it's a game. I hope I played my side as well as he did his.
But I had a good laugh. The guy behind the counter asked 'what's yours?'. I answered (and I honestly can't remember what the name is of the dish I ordered - smashed jack? or something like that - it was a baked spud with chipped beef and bacon bits on top). He took one look and...
'Which part of Texas are you from?'
'Australia, mate' I answered.
'Ah', he drawls, 'that must be East Texas'.
'Nope mate. It's Southern Texas!'
Yeah I know, it's a game. I hope I played my side as well as he did his.
Anyone care to guess
just how incredibly urgent it was for me to give up most of my Sunday to travel to Dallas? Yeah, I know, the wording implies the answer .
But on the other hand, I did just experience something that made it almost worthwhile. We had one of those 'team' dinners out; you know the drill - everyone sits around either po faced waiting for it to be over; or they're busy trying to prove to everyone just what a team player they are; guess which category fits me! It's just finished and I'm back at the hotel. I was a passenger as we drove through the 'High 5', an unfinished and seemingly baffling 5 level intersection of multiple freeways. Someone with an eye for the artistic ensured it's floodlit from below and it's an absolutely fascinating experience to drive through it at night. I wish there was somewhere we could pull over so I could take some shots but alas I couldn't see anywhere that'd be safe given most traffic seems to be doing 60 MPH+.
But on the other hand, I did just experience something that made it almost worthwhile. We had one of those 'team' dinners out; you know the drill - everyone sits around either po faced waiting for it to be over; or they're busy trying to prove to everyone just what a team player they are; guess which category fits me! It's just finished and I'm back at the hotel. I was a passenger as we drove through the 'High 5', an unfinished and seemingly baffling 5 level intersection of multiple freeways. Someone with an eye for the artistic ensured it's floodlit from below and it's an absolutely fascinating experience to drive through it at night. I wish there was somewhere we could pull over so I could take some shots but alas I couldn't see anywhere that'd be safe given most traffic seems to be doing 60 MPH+.
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