From MSN, here’s further proof the world has gone mad:
According to a report in the U.K.’s Daily Mail, one school in the town of Wellingborough is allowing pupils to swear at teachers, providing they only do so no more than five times in a class.
“Within each lesson the teacher will initially tolerate (although not condone) the use of the f-word (or derivatives) five times and these will be tallied on the board so all students can see the running score,” the Daily Mail quoted White as writing in a letter. “Over this number the class will be spoken to by the teacher at the end of the lesson.”
Click here for full story
This has to be one of the stupidest things I’ve seen recently. When I was a kid, using the “f-word”, or any derivative, just once during class would earn you a quick trip to the principal’s office; where he would “speak to you”… right before he spanked your ass with a paddle! And you know what? We didn’t curse at our teachers, ever. Such a thing was incomprehensible; I can just imagine the shocked silence after a kid cursed at a teacher in more civilized times.
Welcome to the age of diminished civility, increased hostility, and lowered expectations.
You know there will be at least one little smart-ass who will save up and drop all 5 “F-bombs” right at the end of class.
Fuck yeah they will, the fucked up little fuckers.
Buy these shoes. Wear them until they look like this.
If you would like to replicate this experiment, you can get the shoes here (and apparently nowhere else, I don’t know why). They’ll set you back about $90, but if they last you 6+ years of all-day, every-day wear before they start to disintegrate (as mine did), that works out to about $15 a year.
If you own and routinely wear more than one pair of shoes, your per annum cost will actually approach zero!
The New Balance 998 earns “Crazy Greg’s Seal of Approval”!
I’m a frugal, trend-setting fashion plate! (And, unlike
Tommy Hilfiger, I do not have a monkey face… at least I don’t think I do.)
So, I’ve just built up a new computer (yesterday). It rocks, and everything came together without a hitch. Until today that is. I awoke to this “click… click… click…” sound that seemed to coming from the direction of the new computer.
Closer investigation revealed that it was the computer, or, more specifically, one of the brand-spanking new 160G Western Digital SATA-II hard drives. Here’s the lucky part; it’s not the boot drive which I just spent much of the night installing software on, it’s “just” the scratch disc.
So, I go to WD’s website, it suggests I try starting the computer up with the data cable disconnected from that drive and seeing if it still clicks. I do, it does, bingo! Bad drive.
So, I call Western Digital, spend a little too much time on hold being force-fed bad jazz at an uncomfortable volume level, then finally get a guy on the line. I describe the sequence of events and he says “Yep, bad drive, we’ll need to replace that.”
The cool thing is: They have Advance Replacement. They ship the replacement to me, enter an authorization on my credit card, I ship the dead drive back (in their packaging) within thirty days and the authorization drops off.
I’ve always had good luck with WD drives (I had 4 providing years of trouble free service in other computers when I got the new comp.) A bad drive happens every now and then, I suppose, and at least they make the replacement process as painless as possible.
Western Digital gets Crazy Greg’s Seal of Approval!
Here’s how it works:
One week a month, you subsist exclusively on assorted varieties of pie (and yes, of course cheesecake counts as pie).
Now, I’m not claiming that this has any health benefits or weight-loss potential, but who the Hell cares? You get to eat pie!
Really I suppose it’s the problem with any sort of small gadget, gizmo, or doodad; they’re easy to misplace.
I’ve been meaning to take my ‘geared’ bike out for a spin. Since I got the fixed gear (11 months ago!?!), it’s the only bike I’ve ridden.
So, today upon getting home from work I decided it would be a good idea to locate the Fuji’s computer. I thought I knew exactly where it was, but of course, I was wrong. I looked everywhere I could remember ever having put it. I looked and looked and looked some more. Finally, after about an hour of tearing the house apart looking for it, I gave up, for the time being.
Within a few minutes of this concession, it hit me. I dashed into the living room and sure enough, there it was, sitting on the bottom edge of my music stand (I’m not sure why) concealed by various sheet music and such.
The good news, aside from the fact that I don’t have to buy a new bike computer:
The kitty enjoyed the whole process immensely. In addition to getting to play “smack the noggin” while I looked under the couch and such, “we” found a bunch of her toys which had been missing; great big fun.
So, John Walkenbach posted an entry on his blog which said (in part):
One thing that nearly all bloggers have in common is that they like to know when another blog links to them. Using a variety of sources, I think I have a pretty good handle on finding other blogs that link to J-Walk Blog. In fact, I think I find about 90% of them — but I may be wrong.
This is an experiment to see how “findable” blog references are. Put me to the the test, fellow bloggers.
Here’s the original post on the J-Walk Blog.
What the heck, I’ll play along.
So, have you seen the commercials for Northern ‘bathroom tissue’ with the cartoon bears? Now, of course we all know what a bear does ‘in the woods’, but do we really want to think about it?
One features the mother bear demonstrating to the little bear that with the fabulous Northern bear TP, s/he needn’t use so much. Another features this cutesy cartoon bear family, frolicking about, rubbing toilet paper across their cartoon bear bottoms asses.
Do I really want to imagine bear excrement (all full of bells and smelling of pepper spray) when I buy toilet paper? Or dancing cartoon bears, wiping their asses?
No! No, I certainly do not!
I’m starting to believe that when these advertising executives meet to develop new campaigns, they first pass out narcotics, booze, crayons, and possibly hallucinogens, then use whatever idea the last exec standing comes up with; reality-show style.
Examples of this new brainstorming technique’s offspring most likely also include the truly disturbing “The sausage comes from Jimmy Dean” ads, and the thoroughly disgusting Metamucil, Old Faithful, doo-doo geyser ads.
I’m posting this in the hope that someone having a similar problem will find their way here by way of a search engine and thus be spared some of the aggravation that I went through a few weeks ago. (How very altruistic of me!)
So, anyway, I have a Windows desktop and laptop, a Linux fileserver, and a TiVo all networked through a Linksys BEFSR41 (v2) ‘Cable/DSL Router with 4-Port Switch’. I have SBC DSL ‘Pro’ (I get about 2.5 - 3 Mbps down, 512Kbps up) which connects via PPPoE through a Speedstream 5100 modem.
Okay, so now that I’ve introduced the players (AKA potential search terms), here’s what happened. This won’t be an exact chronology of the events, because I was quite sleep-deprived for much of the festivities and some of the particulars are therefore a bit fuzzy.
Monday upon arriving home I went online and everything was fine, for a time. Then I lost my DSL connection. I fought and fiddled with it, checked the router configuration, etc… I could get the connection going for a few minutes then I’d lose it again. I could see the rest of the LAN just fine, I just couldn’t connect to the outside world. Finally I tried connecting the DSL modem directly to the desktop. This worked perfectly, but as soon as I reintroduced the router to the mix the problem recurred. Obviously the problem lay with the router (either a hardware or configuration problem).
I pored over the SBC online support, which was no real help (it never is). The Linksys website was a bit more promising, but didn’t supply a solution either.
Tuesday it was more of the same… I was at my wit’s end, thinking it must surely be a problem with the router. Having conceded this point and resigning myself to having to purchase a new router; I was still searching dejectedly online for any info regarding my particular combination of hardware when I stumbled across a webforum posting that mentioned PPPoE location.
A lightbulb began to flicker, then… Eureka!!
Sure enough the problem was PPPoE location. Somehow the modem had reset itself as the PPPoE location, with the router also running PPPoE, thus creating my world of PPPoE woe.
I logged into the modem’s configuration, disabled PPPoE on the modem and hooked everything back up, problem solved!
Strangely, I continued to have intermittant problems with dropped connections; (re)enabling PPPoE on the modem and setting the router to “Obtain an IP Automatically” took care of it. So, it looks like there must be a problem (of some sort) with the router. I’ve got the latest firmware, so I dunno. The good news is; aside from the PPPoE issue, the router continues to function just fine.
So now you know! (Although I can’t imagine why you would care, unless you’re having the same problem.)
So, I’m riding my bike the other day. As a Jeep passes in the opposite direction the driver, apparently enraged by my mere existence, screams at me to:
Get on the fucking bike path!
Hmmm… I’m conflicted. I don’t know whether I want to:
- Explain that in today’s demand driven fuel market, my riding the bike rather than driving helps keep his gas prices down.
- Give him the finger.
- Punch him in the nose.
- Tell him that I’ll do that, as soon as they build a ‘bike path’ from my house to every place I want to go… wait, they already have, it’s called the road, dipshit.
Not being in position to do any of these things, (well, other than giving him the finger, which I resisted the urge to do) I just shook my head and continued on my way, wondering why he was so angry when my presence on the otherwise empty road had in no way, shape, or form delayed, inconvenienced, or indeed, affected him at all. I just don’t understand this sort of random, totally unprovoked, frothing at the mouth anger. It makes you wonder how these morons cope with the genuine annoyances of life.
Sheesh, get a grip… jackass!
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