bored stiff geeks

29 November 2016

hi blogpost

hey blogpost

http://ds.id.au/test/moodle/mod/quiz/accessrule/safebrowser/lang/en/quizaccess_safebrowser.php?cool=af1h82xkq96husvw

Thanks!
Jim

14 March 2015

nothing like a tasty slice of pi, part quinze

happy pi day/hour/minute/second

3/14/15 9:26 and 53.589793238462643383279502884197169399375105820974944592307816406286208998628034825342117067982148086513282306647093844609550582231725359408128481117450284102701938521105559644622948954930381964428810975665933446128475648233786783165271201909145648566923460348610454326648213393607260249141273724587006606315588174881520920962829254091715364367892590360011330530548820466521384146951941511609. . .seconds

07 February 2015

cats: they think they own the house: epilogue

and now the saga ends, sadly.

jewels, the black cat, joined princess, the gray one, at the kitty playground in the sky. she stopped eating about a week ago, and i took her to the vet on tuesday, whereupon the doc informed me of the cat's kidney failure. she went quietly into that good night.

she lived with us 15 good years, and she was a wonderful companion. she was tough as nails, and gentle as. . .erm. . .a kitten.

jack and owen, the other two cats, know something is amiss. owen skulks about and won't venture into our bedroom where jewels would sleep. jack just looks more confused than usual.

something IS off. there is no chatter when I enter my room, no slumbering presence at the foot of my bed. she is gone. . .but this time there is no creepy emotional detachment. this is real, and my home is changed.

thanks for the memories, jewels. you will be missed. farewell, cat.

-----

for a good chuckle, the rest of the story begins here. enjoy the saga.

14 March 2012

nothing like a tasty slice of pi, part deux

happy pi day/hour/minute/second

3/14 1:59 and 26.53589793238462643383279502884197169399375105820974944592307816406286208998628034825342117067982148086513282306647093844609550582231725359408128481117450284102701938521105559644622948954930381964428810975665933446128475648233786783165271201909145648566923460348610454326648213393607260249141273724587006606315588174881520920962829254091715364367892590360011330530548820466521384146951941511609... seconds

05 October 2011

Bad Prediction of the day:

"There is no reason anyone would want a computer in their home."

-- Ken Olson, president, chairman and founder of Digital Equipment Corp., 1977 --

This sentiment was uttered at about the same time that
a guy named Steve Jobs was starting a little company called Apple

18 May 2011

he aint heavy. . .he's my brother

gene and me, 26 may 1990

-------------------------------

The road is long
With many a winding turn
That leads us to who knows where
Who knows where
But I'm strong
Strong enough to carry him
He ain't heavy, he's my brother

So on we go
His welfare is of my concern

No burden is he to bear
We'll get there

For I know
He would not encumber me
He ain't heavy, he's my brother

If I'm laden at all
I'm laden with sadness
That everyone's heart
Isn't filled with the gladness
Of love for one another

It's a long, long road
From which there is no return
While we're on the way to there
Why not share

And the load
Doesn't weigh me down at all
He ain't heavy he's my brother

He's my brother
He ain't heavy, he's my brother.

02 May 2011

you're fired!

"leave my hair out of it!"

24 April 2011

a toast to family

May the best ye've ever seen
Be the worst ye'll ever see
May a mouse ne'er leave yer girnal
Wi' a tear drap in his e'e
May ye aye keep hale an' he'rty
Till ye're auld eneuch tae dee
May ye aye be jist as happy
As we wish ye aye tae be

happy easter egg

blessed are those

to whom Easter is not a hunt…but a find;

not a greeting…but a proclamation;

not outward fashion…but inward grace;

not a day…but eternity.

--thanks to dave h for this one--

21 April 2011

please be on the lookout. . .

i have some friends who have left their native iraq and are refugees from the current war. they need a place to stay, so i thought i'd mention you. they will be stopping by in the next couple of days. if you have room to keep them, even for a night, they'd be indebted to you for life--they'll do anything for you.

please be on the lookout. . .they'll show up in two cars--a green mercedes and a white mercedes.

they travel light, and won't be too much trouble.

would you mind lending a hand?

thanks.

click here for a picture so you'll know what they look like.

19 April 2011

rise of the machines. . .

today is THE DAY that doomed all of humanity. . .because according to "Terminator 2," April 19, 2011 at 8:11 PM, Skynet became self aware, starting a chain of events that led to a war between man and machine. . .

so everyone, smoke em if you got 'em!!

--thanks to k woodman for this one--

19 March 2011

Cemetery Watchman

My friend Kevin and I are volunteers at a National cemetery in Oklahoma and put in a few days a month in a 'slightly larger' uniform.

Today had been a long, long day and I just wanted to get the day over with and go down to Smokey's and have a cold one. Sneaking a look at my watch, I saw the time, 16:55. Five minutes to go before the cemetery gates are closed for the day. Full dress was hot in the August sun Oklahoma summertime was as bad as ever--the heat and humidity at the same level--both too high.

I saw the car pull into the drive, '69 or '70 model Cadillac Deville, looked factory-new. It pulled into the parking lot at a snail's pace.. An old woman got out so slow I thought she was paralyzed; she had a cane and a sheaf of flowers--about four or five bunches as best I could tell.

I couldn't help myself. The thought came unwanted, and left a slightly bitter taste: 'She's going to spend an hour, and for this old soldier, my hip hurts like hell and I'm ready to get out of here right now!' But for this day, my duty was to assist anyone coming in.

Kevin would lock the 'In' gate and if I could hurry the old biddy along, we might make it to Smokey's in time.

I broke post attention. My hip made gritty noises when I took the first step and the pain went up a notch. I must have made a real military sight: middle-aged man with a small pot gut and half a limp, in marine full-dress uniform, which had lost its razor crease about thirty minutes after I began the watch at the cemetery.

I stopped in front of her, halfway up the walk. She looked up at me with an old woman's squint.

'Ma'am, may I assist you in any way?'

She took long enough to answer.

'Yes, son. Can you carry these flowers? I seem to be moving a tad slow these days.'

'My pleasure, ma'am.' (Well, it wasn't too much of a lie.)

She looked again. 'Marine, where were you stationed?'

' Vietnam, ma'am.. Ground-pounder. '69 to '71.'

She looked at me closer. 'Wounded in action, I see. Well done, Marine. I'll be as quick as I can.'

I lied a little bigger: 'No hurry, ma'am.'

She smiled and winked at me. 'Son, I'm 85-years-old and I can tell a lie from a long way off.. Let's get this done. Might be the last time I can do this. My name's Joanne Wieserman, and I've a few Marines I'd like to see one more time..'

'Yes, ma 'am. At your service.'

She headed for the World War I section, stopping at a stone. She picked one of the flower bunches out of my arm and laid it on top of the stone. She murmured something I couldn't quite make out. The name on the marble was Donald S. Davidson, USMC: France 1918.

She turned away and made a straight line for the World War II section, stopping at one stone. I saw a tear slowly tracking its way down her cheek. She put a bunch on a stone; the name was Stephen X.Davidson, USMC, 1943.

She went up the row a ways and laid another bunch on a stone, Stanley J. Wieserman, USMC, 1944.

She paused for a second and more tears flowed. 'Two more, son, and we'll be done'

I almost didn't say anything, but, 'Yes, ma'am. Take your time.'

She looked confused.. 'Where's the Vietnam section, son? I seem to have lost my way.'

I pointed with my chin. 'That way, ma'am.'

'Oh!' she chuckled quietly. 'Son, me and old age ain't too friendly.'

She headed down the walk I'd pointed at. She stopped at a couple of stones before she found the ones she wanted. She placed a bunch on Larry Wieserman, USMC, 1968, and the last on Darrel Wieserman, USMC, 1970. She stood there and murmured a few words I still couldn't make out and more tears flowed.

'OK, son, I'm finished. Get me back to my car and you can go home.'

'Yes, ma'am. If I may ask, were those your kinfolk?'

She paused. 'Yes, Donald Davidson was my father, Stephen was my uncle, Stanley was my husband, Larry and Darrel were our sons. All killed in action, all Marines.'

She stopped! Whether she had finished, or couldn't finish, I don't know. She made her way to her car, slowly and painfully.

I waited for a polite distance to come between us and then double-timed it over to Kevin, waiting by the car.

'Get to the 'Out' gate quick.. I have something I've got to do.'

Kevin started to say something, but saw the look I gave him. He broke the rules to get us there down the service road fast. We beat her. She hadn't made it around the rotunda yet.

'Kevin, stand at attention next to the gatepost. Follow my lead.' I humped it across the drive to the other post

When the Cadillac came puttering around from the hedges and began the short straight traverse to the gate, I called in my best gunny's voice: 'TehenHut! Present Haaaarms!'

I have to hand it to Kevin; he never blinked an eye--full dress attention and a salute that would make his DI proud.

She drove through that gate with two old worn-out soldiers giving her a send-off she deserved, for service rendered to her country, and for knowing duty, honor and sacrifice far beyond the realm of most.

I am not sure, but I think I saw a salute returned from that Cadillac.

Instead of 'The End,' just think of 'Taps.'

As a final thought on my part, let me share a favorite prayer:

'Lord, keep our servicemen and women safe, whether they serve at home or overseas. Hold them in your loving hands and protect them as they protect us.'

Let's all keep those currently serving and those who have gone before in our thoughts. They are the reason for the many freedoms we enjoy.

-- author unknown --