From the Can't-get-enough-of-myself Department

Before I lose this link again, here are some tunes I recorded with the Pacific Tech Thursday Swing Band. That's me playing solo trumpet on "Sabor a Mi" and (don't say I didn't warn you) singing on "Put a Lid on It." The first minute or so of "Lid" is brutal, but wait for the scat solo; it should be amusing.

Anyway, the Tide is low again, as they just graduated a half million or so seniors. My sister-to-be-in-law was among them, and looked hip despite her square hat.

I'm all out of inspiration today, although Scott Adams did answer my query. My readers have been silent so far, with the always notable exception of Leslie.

The only good reason for pushing the question on people is in a feeble attempt to push the science vs. religion debate back into the abstract realm where it belongs.

All I've got to look forward to at work now is selling these. The one product in the place where my employee discount doesn't work is, of course, the only one worth buying. Now I have to brainwash myself into believing in the products so I can sell them and not betray my conscience.

Well that was briefly exciting.

So this headhunter sent me an email about a position for a Ph.D. in LA, making way more money than I'm worth. So I called him, but it turns out they were serious about the Ph.D. thing. He said to call back in 5-10 years.

His first question was easy: "Will you move to L.A. for $100,000, yes or no?" but his second question "How many years experience do you have?" was tough.

I guess it's nice to know my resume looks like a Ph.D.'s. I shoulda gone to grad school.

Cinco de Cinco de Cinco

That 5-5-5 deal makes me want some Arby's. Anyway, I went dancing with some Samfordites after swing. One of them wasn't 21, so we were stuck going to Banana Joe's. Fun though. I think I contributed to the delinquency of a Baptist, but that's hard not to do these days.

Oh, I had a epiphaninni today (that's an observation that would be an epiphany if it weren't so stupid). What I noticed was that people used to watch TV shows to live vicariously through characters they could never hope to become, like Superman, or Donna Reed, or Captain Kirk. Now, I find my aspirations lowered to the point that I get excited for people who manage to clean out their basement and have a garage sale. What's sad is, watching those shows makes me feel like I've accomplished something, substituting their successful projects for my own incomplete ones. Sorta like how porn works (from what I've heard).

Well I for one can't wait for the next 05/05/05. A party like this only comes every hundred years. Unless Mexico comes up with another fake holiday in the interim.

I'm gonna go ahead and schedule a party for 06/06/06. Ya'll are all invited.

Update

Looks like all that time on the cutting edge made me sharp enough after all. I'm a bona fide, employed Image Sharpener.

The coolest perk is an excuse to wear all black.

Sorry if the whole hypertext-subtext device is getting old, but it's just a really concise way to write multiple threads at once, and is a pretty good description of what's going on in my head.

Another reason to love the 'loft.

It looks like my day-0ld externally-imposed aspiration of being a grounded flyboy has come to naught. Turns out you have to be off all antidepressants for a year before you can be considered for OCS. That and you need a GPA of 2.5 (regardless of where you got it). The military is probably the only institution that can ask questions about mental health in an interview and get away with it, although I guess technically they never inquired into why I was prescribed the stuff...

Still no answer from the Great Minds on the Hole & My Soul question. We may never know for sure. Sorta like the cat and butter problem: if you affix a piece of bread to the back of a cat, with the butter side facing away from the cat, and then drop the cat-pastry from a tall cliff, how does it land? A cat has to land on its feet, and the bread would have to land butter side down. The guy who asked me this one was of the opinion that the cat and toast just hovered in midair indefinitely. I think the kitty would probably eat the bread eventually, and then fall gently to land on its feet.

Oh, yay, I only lost one week of unemployment, so I'm getting paid for doing this after all. Who'd'a thunk?

There's a new toy at Amazon.com that counts instinces of statistically improbable phrases, which tend to characterize the author's style. Unfortunately, not enough clever authors have sinded on yet to make it worthwhile. Wodehouse and Adams would be interesting to see.

Sharper Image hasn't gotten back to me yet. Maybe the background check came up with some fuzziness. Imagine that. I'm not sure what turned off Radio Shack, but I don't really wanna work there anyway. I just don't have the heart to sell any poor schmuck a cell phone.