Virtual vehicles for the metaverse
From Blackadder, as an explanation of my thingylamp blog:
Percy: …we came across a turnip that was exactly the same shape…as a thingy!
Edmund: …a “thingy.”
Baldrick: …a great big thingy! It was terrific.
Edmund: Size is no guarantee of quality, Baldrick. Most horses are very well endowed, but that does not necessarily make them sensitive lovers.
Baldrick: I found it particularly ironic, my lord, because I’ve got a thingy that’s shaped like a turnip!
In response to Sabine‘s comment about my threat to hurl the server out the window, here’s proof that her beloved computer is still alive and well.
Just like the Matrix, our websites have a physical existence in the real world. This is what it looks like — it hides in the corner under my coffee table.
Obviously, my living room is ill-suited to be a performance space. Yet, last night we squeezed into this room with half as many chairs as people and had the weekly Ready Or Not. No, this is definitely not a stage. After a warm, summer day, my apartment radiates all of its heat inwards, turning my home into an oven. As well, the absence of any practical lighting made it hard to see the performance. The lava lamp in the corner, apparently, didn’t help much, but did get more than one comment that it looks a bit like a… thingy.
So by the warm glow of the thingy lamp, we got all artsy and wacky. Singing, reading, monologuing.
When it came to my turn, my cohorts kindly agreed to read a script that I’ve had on the back burner since ’96. That, I have to say, was frightening. Their performances were excellent, despite reading cold — thank you Steve (Ahmed), Jim, Leanne, Elaine, and Christine. The frightening part was hearing these words coming alive from the past — hearing them in painful clarity as if for the first time. Now I know why I couldn’t finish the damn thing. The script is the stinkiest piece of stilted, meaningless crap I have ever heard.
Ah, well, I suppose I should keep it in perspective. The whole point of Ready Or Not is to try new things and get feedback. For me, it’s just for fun — really, I have no pretensions about being a writer. What I enjoy the most is just playing with words (as I’m doing now) and bouncing them off whoever will read or listen, in order to see how people react.
In the cold light of morning, I located the sides from last night’s reading and disposed of them in an appropriate manner. Their shreds will appear at the recycling plant to be processed and reborn to a better life as another document. Maybe as somebody’s user manual.
Well, here we are. Another Friday has heaved it’s bloated, tired carcass into view. On this particular Friday morning, I peeled my eyelids open from a blissful dream. In a light that was curiously bright for early morning, my alarm clock slowly came into focus. 9:14.
Panic.
Fridays at the office are rife with the ancient traditions of cube culture. I’ve already mentioned the Long Lunch, of course, and Beer Friday, which I avoid like the plague. But of all of them, my favourite is Casual Friday.
The rules for Casual Friday are vague and rooted in the depths of history, but in essence, after a long week of wearing normal office attire, workers are permitted to dress down for one day at the end of the week.
How casual is Casual Friday? It’s a relative thing, it seems. The execs, for example, are normally seen in suits, but their Casual Friday sees them in khaki pants and golf shirts. Sales and marketing types often wear the khakis and crisp shirts during the week, and on Friday they dress down to blue jeans and a t-shirt.
In my department — software development — t-shirt and jeans are ubiquitous from Monday to Thursday. So faced with my alarm clock showing 9:21 (I must have glazed over while thinking about what to wear), I decided to take full advantage of Casual Friday to get me to the cube on time. I left for work unshaven, wearing my old jeans, hiking boots, and an old t-shirt with a software decal on it.
I made it to work on time and I’m the king of geek chic.
This web server is driving my up the freakin’ wall. I swear, it’s been waiting until I’m not around before crashing.
Which would you say is the problem with my server?
It’s running Windows 98.
It’s a Pentium 133.
It’s running Personal Web Server.
It’s possessed by an evil spirit from the netherworld (other than Mr. Gates, I mean).
Hmm. All things considered, I think it’s time to chuck Microsoft out the Window and give Red Hat Linux a shot. If you find this site offline for an extended period, one of two things has happened. Either I’m busily installing Linux and baffled by the wacky new stuff I’ve never seen before, or I’ve dropped the thing from my 2nd storey window and watched it smash into a billion tiny pieces (with a great deal of pleasure).