Author: Jim (Page 32 of 51)

Father of 4, Engineer, Social Worker, longtime blogger, #linux user. Opining on the internet? What else is it for?

Cowon iAudio F1 Personal Music Player

June 27, 2006 / Jim

I just have to comment on this great little addition to my technology array. The personal music player, Cowon iAudio F1, rocks. I love it, even if the 22 hour advertised battery life only lives up to around 13. But, it plays ogg vorbis, mp3, wma, is super small, does voice recording, has 1 Gigabyte of flash memory, is an FM tuner, records FM radio, and "line in" too all for around $125.00. This little baby rules. I’ve had it for around 6 months now, and I think it’s fabulous, small, and powerful. Highly recommended. No iPods for me, unless I hack it with RockBox… which I might do, btw.

Stumped by Wonderful Beautiful Perfect Child Logic

June 18, 2006 / Jim

Jaimito, age 4: Daddy, does magic exist?

Me: Oh, I like that question. But I have to ask you another question, Jaimito. It depends, what is magic? Do you know, Jaimito, why things fall to the ground?

Jaimito: Um, cause you dropped them?

Me: Well, yes, that’s right, but the falling part. How come, Jaimito, that you stick to the ground and don’t fly up to the ceiling?

Jaimito: ‘Cause I don’t have a cape?

Me: *Falls out of chair laughing*

Hangin’ with Javier

June 16, 2006 / Jim

Laura, Jaimito, and Olaia were all out last night. Laura was at some cocktail event for the Puerto Rico Chamber of Commerce, and Olaia and Jaimito attended the birthday party of a cousin. They saw "Cars." I wish I could have gone, but no, I got to stay at home and look after Javier, just the two of us, hangin’. What a treat it was, though. I think I got the best deal. He’s such a fiddle-muffin, always in motion, joking, smiling, laughing, getting into stuff. We got into stuff together. He likes that I help him get into stuff. Then we bounced on the bed. He loves that. Of course the only problem with little children, is that they never ever tire of whatever they are doing that is fun. Again. Again. Again. Do it again. And if you don’t do it one thousand million times, they wail. So we have to find something else fun to do.

Next, let’s jump on the couch. Jump jump jump jump.

"Okay, Javier, Daddy’s tired. Can we take a break?" And I plopped down on the couch and flicked on the TV. Let’s see if there are cartoons on. Javier climbed up and slumped down on the couch imitating my male couch-slouching posture. We were a couple of perfect guys, lazing on the couch. Lovely.

Then I made dinner.

"Hey, Javier, are you hungry? Let’s make dinner. What would you like." He understood, and immediately began to wail.

Daddy, I forgot, I’m hungry. You reminded me and now I want food right now – right this instant. No forget that, I want food five minutes ago.

"Okay, little man, hold your horses. I’m on it. Let’s get you some juicy." I took out a cartoon of country style pulpy fresh orange juice. The wail volume went up a notch.

DADDY! I want it NOW.

"All right, Javier, look, you had better stop crying. You will not have ANY juice until you stop crying this instant." Javier knew I meant business. There are no second chances in this house. Daddy demands instant and complete compliance or the consequences come raining down. Javier’s tears instantly shut off while I finished pouring his juice and handed it to him. "I knew you could do it, little boy. Daddy’s proud of you for holding on and being patient." I patted him on the head and gave him a little hug.

Now I must get to our dinner, I thought. "So, Javier, what shall we have? A little Daddy-style Spanish Tortilla? Sounds good. Hmmmm."

I got out the mixed vegetables, the eggs, and a glass bowl. Normally Spanish omelets have potatoes, but Puerto Rico is so damn hot, I can’t eat a lot of carbs for dinner. As soon as I have rice, pasta, or potatoes, my body goes into flop sweat mode. It’s a pain, let me tell you. Dinner, for me, ideally consists of vegetables, fruits, and a bit of meat or beans, or any variation thereof. I dumped in the mixed vegetables, eggs, garlic, and whipped it all together. I popped it in the microwave for four minutes and bam, quicky Spanish omelet. I put some cheddar cheese on top and we were good to go. Javier, however, had different ideas.

Daddy, I’m going to eat all the bread at once, stuff it all in my mouth and then only nibble at my eggs. Oh, but the orange juice was great. Daddy, he smiled and seemed to say with his little teeth full of bread, I love you. And he took a quick drink from his sippy cup for emphasis.

Yes I was Dead Dead Dead with a Hole in My Head

June 13, 2006 / Jim

Haha, Dave an’ Brian, remember that? Dead dead dead with a hole in my head. Brian wrote that right? Ah, good times.

He used to get close to her. He was an attentive sort, would always move in when he was sure she wouldn’t be bothered, when he knew he would be safe from from her careless ways. She’d not the time to consider him. He’d busy himself though, tidying up, scurrying about.

Unlike the others, too cool, too uninterested, you could tell he cared. Was his a reincarnated soul with a deep connection to her, so profound and abiding as to only be taken in spoonfuls – for it was all he could bear. He must pace himself, he thought. We should live long, very long. The long race does not lend itself to a sprint. Better that our relationship be slow, a walk, a stroll, soft hand in soft hand.

Once he made a bold move, coming close when she’d not asked for it. It was a mistake he would not soon forget. Sometimes the love overwhelmed him and he forgot his place, forgot what he was. She recoiled from his touch. He fled in fright.

He was but a servant. He made himself scarce for a time, but the attraction was there. He couldn’t help himself. When she came into his space, he watched her every move, the way she poured a glass of milk, made toast, the rustle of her dress, the sienna of her skin.

He would venture forth to inhabit her space, breathe the same air. Perhaps she would let a crumb fall for him.

It was a mid-afternoon day when it all came to an end. Bah, he had said to himself, a stroll lacks the capacity to express how I feel. I am transcendent, I am more than I seem to be. I am not content to walk a long slow walk. I need more. And puffed up with his new found resolve, he danced and skipped from his space into hers, touched her bare leg, put a hand beneath her dress. Such was his passion. I shall not live a life in silence away from you, my dear, within reach of you without… I must touch you. I would rather die than live a thousand years thusly.

Let me touch you.

She leapt up in fright pushing her chair back. He gave her a start, but it began to subside when she saw it was him, his little reptilian self scurrying in fright.

With her errant chair, though, she broke his back, sending him to his death. It was unintentional, but inevitable. The end for which he had hoped could never have been.

Poor Jerry the Lizard, it was your love that killed you. T’was beauty that killed the beast.

More Allegories, Oh Boy. I am NOT Making This Up

June 1, 2006 / Jim

Last week I went into a local Subway shop in San Juan. I looked at the promotional posters offering specials, delicious piping hot bubbling cheese, big big big meatballs and fresh fresh toppings. I pondered my choices. Whatever should I get?

Oh will you look at that, they have a special of the day. $2.99 – cool. What’s today’s special? Roast beef. Excellent. I love roast beef. "I’ll have one of those toasted on wheat."

"What chips would you like," The woman asked.

"I’m okay. No thanks." I didn’t need the chips and I wanted the cheapo sandwich and that was it. I love being a cheap bastard. Just say NO to the combos folks. Just say NO!

As she rung me up she asked me what drink I wanted. Again I informed her that I would not be requiring a combo at this time. She looked puzzled.

"Honey-child (actually she said, mi amor, but honey child is the best translation for the tone… one of sweet condescension), it already comes in combo."

"Oh," I paused, trying to absorb my good fortune. For a second, my shoulder devil had me convinced that I should take the chips and drink and run – run like the wind, but I took a breath and remembered… "Um, are you sure. I thought $2.99 was just for a sandwich. That’s a pretty good deal, maybe too good. Are you sure?"

"Yes, everything is in combo."

"Um, okay. I’ll take sour cream and onion (I like sour cream and onion – did I ever tell you that?)."

I stepped into the hot morning sun, beaming the smile of a cat that had swallowed the canary. I shall frequent this establishment regularly. Cue Mr. Burns – excellent.

So, it was today, the day that I shall have my beautiful cheap sandwich combo. I made plans to fetch my $2.99 lunch at the fine Subway establishment and fairly danced through the front door. Such was my anticipation of hearty roast beef, diet cola, and sour cream chips for myself and PJ.

"That will be $9.50," the nice lady informed me.

Thinking that surely she had erred as to the total, I inquired, "Are you sure? The sign clearly says $2.99."

"But that’s just for the sandwich," she insisted.

I smiled. "You remember me right?" She nodded. "We had this discussion last week. You told me that the $2.99 price was a combo price, NOT a sandwich price."

"Um, well there was another special we were running that just finished."

"Oh, well I didn’t see a sign," I politely countered.

"Well, we never actually put them up."

"Oh…" I paused, biting my lip. "So did you, in fact actually have any offer at all?"

"No sir, I was deliberately wasting your time."

"Right oh."

Now that last part was fictitious, a homage to the classic phlegmatic Monty Python Cheese Shop. The true ending consisted of her returning the chips that she had fetched for me, re-stacking the paper cups, and charging me $5.98. I tell this story to you today to emphasize the point that in Puerto Rico, there is a singular true-ism.

There are rules, but they are not posted.

Tolstoyean Vignettes, Melvillesque Allegories, or Casablog Slashbacks

May 30, 2006 / Jim

The following is a series of posts that I started and never finished. I’m going to take the lazy man’s way out, thanks to Slashdot and post my very own slashback, or collection of random snippets of drivel.

The Grapes

I was driving along, doing 62 in a 60, when I came upon a little bunch of cars huddled as they were clinging to a lone police car putt-putting along at a mere 50 miles per hour. Eh?

I wove left. I wove right. I merged. I passed. I sped back up to 62 and continued on my merry way leaving the bunch of grapes behind me slow rolling along at 50 mph. What is wrong with those people? I thought.

Maybe they needed to ripen.

The police car pulled over and squatted on his haunches in the little u-turn lane specially placed for speed traps. I soon saw a celebration, a bursting forth of grapes as they rolled from the table, free, free at last, spilling forth in jubilation, bursting with exuberance.

One by one, they zipped past me at 70, zoom, zoom zoom, Doppler effect, Doppler effect. They rolled into the distance, skipping and dancing with joy.

Silly grapes.

Ice Helps with Swelling

The outdoor hotel lobby of the El Conquistador screamed with pain. Yells and angry words seemed to emanate from a disturbance of some sort. I couldn’t make out the root cause of the commotion, but never mind, the damage was done. A blond, Dawg bounty hunter looking type and a smaller darker man had possession of a large German Shepard. They seemed to be yelling at security. Security seemed to be "discussing" something with them. The yellow haired man said something about the dog, the leash, and, look, he’s tranquil. I don’t know, but I watched security guard after security guard pour into the scene. I watched what seemed a stream of bell boys and curious hotel employees gather around the wound to gawk, their hands shoved deep into their pockets. If there were to be rumble, I want to see it, they seemed to say.

Problem is, what could have been a simple matter really should have been handled better by the staff at a four star hotel. Let’s say the blond man and his friend were in the wrong. Maybe there was a guest scared by the dog, maybe they didn’t allow the dog into the shuttle, maybe… I don’t know. If the dog wasn’t allowed on the shuttle with other guests, they should have gotten a separate shuttle for him. If he was drunk and unreasonable, they could have disarmed him with a smile and a free something maybe another drink, a pretty girl… anything. They could have offered the dog a spa. They could have offered to give them all a free passes to something, offered to walk the dog. I don’t know, but anybody who has any experience dealing with different cultures, like one would expect in a four star hotel, should have been more deft at dealing with such a situation. It was embarrassing, it was pathetic. By the time I paid my parking fee and left, the scene seemed straight out of high school. All that was missing were the chants, of "fight fight fight!"

Welcome to Puerto Rico, where we don’t know how to deal with confrontation and unpleasant situations and gawking is a national pastime.

Let’s get it straight people. If you are not directly aiding in calming the situation, you are MAKING IT WORSE. Ice it. Don’t inflame it.

Oh, and by the way, I vote to revoke El Conquistador’s four star rating.

It is Your Destiny, Luke

Or, as Olaia corrected Darth Vader, "It’s not destiny, it’s a choice!"

–while watching Return of the Jedi.

If She Was Any Other Woman…

Me: I can’t help it if you married a woman, my dear.

Laura: Yeah *laughs*

Me: Thank God you’re such a man, or we’d just be an old lesbian couple.

Fox News has Ceased to be Entertaining

I am ashamed to admit it… aw who am I kidding, I’m not ashamed. I watch Fox News. At least I did. Recently it has become a bad parody of itself. It’s not even entertaining anymore. And let’s face it, that’s the only reason to watch cable news.

Once, I found them amusing infotainment, but no longer.

Even today’s Bikini Murderer story, complete with gorgeous blond college aged victim found strangled to death with a string bikini isn’t enough to pull me in. I just don’t know you anymore Fox. You used to be fair and balanced. *wipes tear from eye*

Let’s go back to CNN… wait, scratch that. I forgot why I left your snaggle-toothed ass the first time. OMFG, I want to tear my eyes out. Between the giggling sorority girls and Lou Dobbs interviewing for a job at Fox News, I can’t take more than a few minutes. Besides, BOOOORRRRIIIINNNNGGG. You don’t even have the Bikini Murderer.

Guess the Daily Show is all I’ve got. I shall cling to you, Daily Show, for all my infotainment needs, cling to you I shall, for you are honest in your values.

You profess to be a show with no news, yet you are the Tao of news. You are so "news free," that the purity of your veins in which flows news is the newsiest news that was ever broadcast as news from your veins. Your every denial augments your stature, oh newsy-one.

I’m on to you, you allegory of news, you. Quee-Queg, fetch my harpoon.

Akcento Amerikano

May 22, 2006 / Jim

Olaia has this funny bit where she does this stupifyingly funny American accent in Spanish. She’s got a gift, I tells ya, a gift of funny. Her little "Yo no entiendo" never fails to crack me up.

Listen (mp3): Akcento Amerikano

Coffee Bean Oil: Nonstick Coating

May 10, 2006 / Jim

I discovered this a while ago, but I wanted to share my technique. It all started the first time I roasted coffee in a frying pan. My frying pan happens to be of the anodized aluminum variety ala Calphalon. It’s a great pan, but its biggest drawback is stick-age. You cannot fry an egg without Pam or copious quantities of oil. Seasoning as per the manufacturer’s instructions? Bah! I’m a guy. I never read instructions.

But I found a truly great non-stick coating that is slicker than Teflon or Silverstone, better than Pam and is persistent: coffee bean oil.

Roast raw coffee beans (green coffee beans) on a medium to high heat with fifteen minutes of constant agitation or stirring. The result: the best coffee you will ever drink and your pan now has a beautiful persistent sheen of oil that seems to form a nice molecular bond with the pan. I haven’t tried it with cast iron, but I would imagine it would work the same.

Now, I can make wafer thin french omelets and flip them with impunity.

To preserve my Coffee Bean Non-Stick Coating^TMI use the Chinese wok cleaning method, water and some sort of gentle scraper, no soap, rinse, and dry. The pan does not retain any residue from whatever I cook in it and all the stuck-on stuff sloughs off easily. If we do Puerto Rican rice dishes, the pega’o or stuck stuff on the bottom, is the crunchiest most wonderful part of the dish, all thanks to roasting coffee como un campesino.

So far, for me, this method far outstrips all other seasoning tips that come from various sources.

Who Owns Your Rights?

May 7, 2006 / Jim

From the Fourteenth Amendment of the Constitution of the United States

No state shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any state deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.

From the Declaration of Independence of the United States

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. –That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed,

Why do I bring this up? Recently the debate has been raging about what rights are afforded to undocumented workers or illegal immigrants, sometimes inhumanely referred to as “illegals.” The heart of the debate, if it can be said to have one at all, is that only citizens are afforded the rights protected by the Constitution.

If you are not a citizen, then you are out of luck.

The power of the Constitution comes neither from the government itself nor the People. James Madison seems to agree with me.

“Because if . . . [An Unalienable Natural Right of Free Men] . . . be exempt from the authority of the Society at large, still less can it be subject to that of the Legislative Body. The latter are but the creatures and vicegerents of the former. Their jurisdiction is both derivative and limited: It is limited with regard to the coordinate departments, more necessarily is it limited with regard to the constituents. The preservation of a free Government requires, not merely, that the metes and bounds which separate each department of power be invariably maintained: but more especially that neither of them be suffered to overleap the greater Barrier which defends the rights of the people. The Rulers who are guilty of such an encroachment, exceed the commission from which they derive their authority, and are Tyrants. The people who submit to it are governed by laws made neither by themselves nor by an authority derived from them, and are Slaves — James Madison, June 1785.

What he is saying is that the People are capricious, and since the government is an extension of the people then it too is capricious. It [the government] cannot be trusted with our most important gifts of creation.

I think some clue to the whole puzzle of where our rights come from, how they apply, and to whom they apply is contained in the Declaration of Independence. “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights…” Unalienable: non-transferable, unable to destroy, eradicate, or remove. That is to say, if you are human you have these rights whether you want them or not and no one can legally take them away. Of course if someone uses force to subject you, no legal order gives them authority, and we the People of the United States with the authority of the Constitution, shall protect you and restore to you your proper rights.

The Declaration of Independence, in my mind, can be seen as the spirit under which was formed the whole of our union. It was the mission statement, frame of reference, or inspiration from which all the founding documents flowed.

These rights we have as a person are in all ways incontrovertible. The mention of a Creator, I believe, is simply an acknowledgment of “other than the ways of men.” It could have easily said, “You, by the fact of your birth in the Universe, have the following rights, none of which is granted to you by us, our representatives, or their agents.” We the government are not the authority giving you these rights, we the government of the people simply acknowledge them and pledge to protect them from others that would seek to subvert these rights.

In short, we didn’t invent these rights, we just protect them.

It bears mentioning again. The government IS NOT the authority for your rights as a human being. It took a while, but the fourteenth amendment to the Constitution is the part that finally spelled it out. We’d spent nearly a century assuming, but no longer, the XIV was going to nail it down with railroad spikes. Let there by no doubt. “…nor shall any state deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.”

There is no distinction there for citizen/non-citizen. We the people of the United States recognize that the rights of man are not beholden to the whimsy of the public or the government. The People and by its extension, the government, have no authority to grant, rescind, or amend these rights.

Again, the Constitution and the government and its laws protect these rights but neither grant them nor bestow them.

The next time you hear some shill talking about the Constitution not protecting illegal immigrants or granting to us something it does not grant to them, be wary, for if the Constitution has the power to NOT grant rights to those other people, than from where does the authority for your rights come? The Constitution? I don’t think so.

To keep these rights from illegal immigrants is to subvert your own rights. I don’t know about you, but MY rights do not come from the Constitution. The Constitution simply exhorts you/us to protect these rights that are bestowed upon us by “other than man.” You have them because you exist.

To fight for the rights of illegal immigrants is to fight for your very own rights. I, for one, have no interest in granting authority for my liberty to the US Government. I hold it on my own as a person. The People have pledged to protect those rights whether you be natural born or an alien, for it is the people we are, a people who love liberty, a people who wish for none to be subjugated under the unlawful heel of tyranny or injustice.

Unalienable rights apply everywhere in the world in all nations, but it is only within our borders that they are protected by the Consitution. It is only here where we have the authority to enforce these rights as a people. The day that we apply a different standard to visitors, tourists, people of other nations living in working in America than we apply to our own citizens is the day that we subvert the true intent of the Constitution.

Alexander’s Got a Week to Live

May 2, 2006 / Jim

At least that’s what I hypothesized while trying to get him to figure out what he wanted out of life.

"Alexander, say you’ve got a week to live. What are you going do?"

"Um, I’ll get out of here?"

"Yes," I answered and snapped my fingers, "You’re out of prison."

"Well, I guess I’d ask God for forgiveness for my sins."

"Done and done. You’re already forgiven. Don’t waste any time asking for forgiveness. It’s already been done, and your life was given back to you. You’ve got a week left. What do you do?"

Alexander looked at me like I had just said the most ridiculous thing ever. Look, he seemed to say, you tell me I have a week left, I tell you I want to be on my knees asking forgiveness for my sins – the best possible answer, mind you, and you throw it back in my face. What kind of chaplain are you anyway?

I’m the kind of chaplain who thinks that living on your knees is a waste, and besides it’s hard on your knees. It’s a sin against your knees, and God doesn’t want that.

Alexander considered his fate for a moment.

"Um, I guess I’d be with my mother and father. They’ve been so good to me. I’d spend my last week with them."

"Ah, so with your last week of life on this earth, you’d be seeking more than love – you’d be seeking to love. You wouldn’t be looking for amor, you’d be seeking to amar. Amen I say to you, brother."

We talked about other things for a while. Alexander likes boxing and Burger King bacon double hamburgers. In fact, he loves them so much he has his parents sneak them to him during visitation. I got a real kick out of that. We chatted about a fight he got into recently. Some older bigger kid poured shampoo on his cot and threw his clothes in the toilet. Just like high school, I remarked. Alexander got up in the guy’s face and got a couple of good licks in before the guards broke it up. Alexander said it didn’t matter anyway, because as he recounted to me with pride, he was already going to the maximum security facility.

"So, let’s return to the question: What do you want out of life? What about if I gave you 80 years. What would you do with your life? I give you a million dollars and 80 years. What’s next."

"Well, I um, I don’t know."

"Let’s just say that it’s okay to buy bling, a nice house, have a beautiful girlfriend, a great music system, lots of parties, a pool, and beautiful view. You can get all that in a month. By my calculation, that leaves 79 years 11 month. Now what’s next."

"I dunno, enjoy myself, pasarlo todo tranquilo."

"Alexander, how come when you have a week left you’ve got a clear idea of what you should be doing, but I give you 80 and you squander it?"

I reflect this week how easy it is to become a glutton. Give me more of it, I say, I want to live longer, better, and with more things. Do I realize what it’s for?

I ask you, who stuff your faces at the banquet, for what do you want it?

Figure it out before you come back for seconds, please.