From Digg – The Devil’s Music

What’s the link between the theme tune to the Simpsons, Black Sabbath, and West Side Story? They all use the Devil’s Interval, a musical phenomenon suppressed by the Church in the Middle Ages.

read more | digg story

Tired Me

OK, this isn’t your usual me-bitching-about-work tired post. For sh*ts and giggles, I decided to walk from Court back to the office – Kings County Supreme Court, that is. A nice 3-mile walk. Then, at the end of work, I decided to walk from the office to the Jay Street-Boro Hall Station. Another nice 3-mile walk. Then, because it was nice out today, I decided to walk around Park Slope, from my house to Garfield Place through the park. Another 2.5 miles.

My legs are jelly. I feel guilty about it, but I might just waste time exercising my thumbs with a video game. Of course, I also need to apologize to my landlady for almost killing her with scrap lumber. I was moving my window planter and the piece of 2-by-4 that I use to stabilize it on the sill fell down. She wasn’t outside or anything but what I did was negligent. I should know.
On the upside of things, I’m down another notch on my belt. All that walking that I’ve been doing. Plus, I’ve kept off the weight I lost over Passover.

From Digg – Will Apple buy Adobe?

Cringely makes the case that Apple needs to buy Adobe to secure its future. Apple’s got the cash and stock to make it happen…

read more | digg story

Random

Real quick – because I have water for macaroni getting ready and I’m in the middle of OC

1 – I thought better about it and took down a work post.

2 – I want to get nasty with Valchuk’s nasty dirty “cousin” (that might be the bourbon talking)

Babe Ruth And 3 To The Third

3-3-3. A magic number.

Barry Bonds, whom I do not like for a myriad of reasons – plate crowding, lack of team ethic, body armor, possible steroid usage – is 3 away from Ruth with his third home run of the season. Admittedly, Ruth was no saint either. He was a cigar-chomping, drunken misogynist. Nevertheless, he had personality and personality goes a long way.

Hank Aaron passed Babe over a quarter of a century ago and did it with style and in the face of adversity. I don’t see anyone sending Bonds death threats and I cannot say how he would react to the sort of violent resistance that Aaron withstood. Maris got his share of hate mail when he passed the Babe’s single season record and persevered with quiet grace. Such grace nevertheless was not enough and Maris’ record was defaced with an asterisk.

Now, Bonds, in his quest for the greatest record in sports – the all-time home run record – sits in the 3 spot. He is number 3 on the all-time home run list, three runs behind Ruth, who wore #3.

That Bonds will surpass No. 3 – that’s a given. That Bonds will pass Aaron – that’s likely. That Bonds used steroids – that’s a possibility. Three things that I don’t like.

Joe – this post is for you. I wish you were here.

The Post Where I Thank England

It’s 5:45 and I have been having a bear of a week. I can’t really complain because everyone else is. You’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t and I got yelled at by an adversary for trying to take control of an escalating situation. Basically, he yelled at me for not calling him up to say he screwed up when he sent me an incomplete motion and I told him to calm down. It just got uglier from there when I tried to claim the moral high ground after he started cursing at me. That was before 9:30.

After that, for half an hour, I questioned my judgment but the managing reassured me. After that, nothing but plowing straight ahead in my reply brief, which earned me a compliment from the appeals partner (which I do value), which except for an hour of walking around me time, carried me through 5 p.m. Then, I tried to find my focus. With tea.

I had two cups of coffee this morning before leaving the house and the tea is the only other caffeine for the day. Too early to say if it evened me out. It did help my mood and I’m grateful for that. I’m working full-tilt here – as is everyone – which is fallout from last week. Or are they aftershocks? The meeting was eerily empty. My rage has subsided from Monday but not enough to change the sidebar status.

Speaking of sidebar – last.fm struck me as kind of cool. I guess everyone started using it at the same time when it got widgetized because they’ve been screwing around with their servers, causing the very feature that everyone likes – the playcharts – to be down. It looks like it’s working now. When I started this post, I think my home iTunes went on a showtunes binge. Right now, I’m listening to Pearl Jam on shuffle. I never realized how much they had that I hadn’t really listened to. That’s the problem with debuting with an album like “Ten.” They just can’t top it.
Long post, I know. I’m done with my tea and am going to brew another cup. Then, another hour of grinding. No work tonight with TV. And I need more single-malt. I’m not really tired – just worn. Running in high gear for this long is tiring. There will be a Cheap Beer Thursdays post. I need to knock back a few tomorrow night and I may call up hp to suggest “The Patriot.”

Cheers.

First Drafts And More Scotch

10:15 – Watching, drinking, and working. It needs to be done. I do need to get another draft to the Big Man by tomorrow noon. There’s no “or else.” It’s just a self imposed deadline. He seems to be going back to the “Clash of Personalities” that he was at a couple of years ago, but I think he knows that I’ve got a lot of sh*t on my plate and that my sh*t becomes other people’s sh*t if I quit, causing those people to quit, and then HE inherits the sh*t. Eww, third-hand sh*t.

On AI, Paula is back off her meds. She cried at Elliot’s crappy ass song. Pickler just pissed me off and made my ears bleed. What ever happened to the weird fake reality show where the father is a record producer who kicks his spoiled kids off the cush? I forgot what it was called. The guy who “played” the father is a real record producer (I guess). Pickler has white-trash hair. Probably because she’s white trash.

Scotch is still good. And England got no mention in last night’s tribute to whiskey-producing nations because, although I’m Jewish, I use the McNulty (M’Nutty) rule: Protestant whiskey is for suckers. I still have five pages of edits to put in (I can do it).

Oh, why does everyone at work get all up in a tizzy about my fauxhawk? No joke. I catch sh*t from neocon Long Island/Hoboken GOP assh**es about my hair. This from guys who all have the same Catholic (no offense ellenbrenna) Republican semi-feather blowback. And why do I catch crap about my French cuff shirts, pink ties, enamel links, bracelet-loose watch bands from these style impaired suburban fashion hacks? It’s called laying out your clothes ahead of time. It’s called having a sense of style.

Speaking of a sense of style…

Cue Manny… (He’s just too damned cool)

A Little Update On My Well-Being

Well, I got a decent night’s sleep. I got a draft done on a reply brief.

I still have a lot to do and not a lot of time in which to do it. I still dread going to my office. I’m still not happy with having to go to the Bronx for a few court appearances. I’m still very upset at the level of half-assedness of one of my co-worker’s case-handling. I still care too much about my job. I still need to find out why I can’t focus at work. I still need to work on my issues with finishing things. I still need to stop looking for that one thing that will complete me. I still need some perspective in my life. I still need to have a real life. I still need to truly appreciate what I have. I still need to find someone. I still need to be happy.

Right now, I’ll settle for another cappucino and reading my book on the subway for an hour and a half.

The Post Where I Thank Scotland

I hate to do this but I’m going to anyway. I’m going to quote a Will Farrell movie. “I love scotch. Scotchy, scotch, scotch. Here it goes down, down into my belly…” Thank you, Scotland. Thank you for discovering that right mixture of fermented malt and burnt peat moss. Thank you for having nothing better in your country than peat bogs and fields of grain. Because you invented Scotch whiskey, I can forgive your invention of golf. I still don’t quite get that game.

I mean, the courses are very beautiful. St. Andrews is absolutely gorgeous. Still, I’d rather just walk around the course than actually take a fancy stick and hit a weird little ball into sandboxes all day. Why not have picnics? With Scotch.

So, Scotland, thank you. Thank you for single-malt Scotch whiskey. Thank you for tartan plaid. I especially like the Black Watch’s tartan. Hunter green and midnight blue. Och, it’s quite pretty, laddy boy. Thank you for Scotch, which has mitigated my rage and calmed me down. I’ve had quite a bit already. I’m going to have more. I need it. I deserve it. I want it. I’m entitled to it.

So thank you, Scotland. You are a nation of kings (well, kings of distillation). Cheers to you.

And to the parts of the world that have done nothing to aid in the development of whiskey (or whisky)

GO TO HELL!

America, Canada, Ireland, Scotland… I love you. Everyone else can rot.

England’s No. 1 Tea

I’m willing to admit when someone else is right and I have to admit, Joe Tough Guy was right. PG Tips is damned good tea. He was supposed to show me how to make a proper cup of tea but fate conspired against it. Tough Guy was up in the Boogie Down and not at the office. Anyway, I’m not sure he would have been able to show me anyway.

Tough Guy was quite adamant about water that has just gone onto the boil be required to brew the tea. If you boil the water too long, the tea will come out sh*te. I had to settle for water that is 187 degrees. Nevertheless, I took great care to make sure that it only steeped for 1.5 to 2 minutes and that all of the water drained from the bag. I know I’m just a yank and not able to properly appreciate tea but Tough Guy didn’t steer me wrong.

PG Tips is excellent tea. Spot on.