Chamblee54

PG is 192 pages into Infinite Jest. This is on the 11th day of the second time checking it out, which is the max at the chamblee library. There are 981 pages in the main text, not counting the footnotes. This is a book not to be finished, at least by the reader with any life other than digesting this work. As publishers weekly said, on the Amazon review page, “few others will have the stamina for it.”
IJ is set in a future, estimated by some to be 2011. It was written in the early nineties, and published in 1996. There are some quaint, and confusing, terms for what we now know as the internet and computers. In this world, North American is one country, and years are sponsored by products ( like the Year of Depends Adult Undergarments, or YDAU). This cowardly new world takes a bit of getting used to.
So far, PG has been reading this like a long poem. The wordplay, and pedantic pessimism, flow out of the pages like fire hydrant dispensing endless Indian soup, with all the flavors fighting for attention in your tongue. There is no way you can get all of it in one reading, and PG is not going to try.
The Author, the late David Foster Wallace, has a style described as maximalist. At one point he channels William Burroughs, in a monolog about junkie life in Boston on Christmas Eve. In a latter segment, we learn that a trans ho has stolen the Jarvik heart out of the expensive handbag the lady carried it in. When she screamed, he stole my heart, a yankee passerby told her she had listened to too many romantic songs, get a life lady.
The junkie monolog eventually got skipped over, as did some other parts. The plot is not apparent by page 192, with 789 pages to be read in 10 days. The good news is, after 24 hours, if no one checks it out, PG can take it out for another 6 weeks. With densely written text, that one amazon reader said made her break out in sweat, it may take the rest of 2010 to finish this work.
It should be noted that this book may have been what killed the author. He committed suicide, while trying to come down off antidepressants. He felt that the legal drugs were interfering with his ability to write. New Yorker has a lengthy piece on this. The father of several of the key figures in IJ offed himself by putting his head in a microwave. Don’t try this at home. Pictures for this post are from the Library of Congress

Everybody says he is honest, but how many really mean it? As befits a word whose first two letters are HO, there are lots of quotes about honesty. Mr. Google shows a lot of lists of honesty quotes, of which this blog only got around to one and two . Does purchasing a better listing on google count for dishonesty? How about page two , which had an ad for turbo tax at the bottom. Tax and honest should not be used in the same paragraph. (In the quotes below, a ~ before the author indicates source two) ( Of the credited authors below, only one…Emily Dickinson…is a woman)
“Honesty is the cruelest game of all, because not only can you hurt someone – and hurt them to the bone – you can feel self-righteous about it at the same time” Dave Von Ronk
“The first two letters of honest are HO.” PG
“You should not use honesty as a blunt weapon. Just because something is true, does not mean that saying it out loud is a good idea.” PG
“You do not increase the wisdom or truth of what you say by saying it louder. You just make more noise. ” PG
“He who is passionate and hasty, is generally honest; it is your cool dissembling hypocrite, of whom you should beware” author unknown
“Honesty: The best of all the lost arts” Mark Twain
“Honesty is the best policy, but insanity is a better defense” author unknown
“It is hard to believe that a man is telling the truth when you know that you would lie if you were in his place.” ~Henry Louis Mencken, A Little Book in C Major, 1916
“Who lies for you will lie against you.” ~Bosnian Proverb
“A truth that’s told with bad intent beats all the lies you can invent.” ~William Blake, “Auguries of Innocence,” Poems from the Pickering Manuscript
“Honesty is the rarest wealth anyone can possess, and yet all the honesty in the world ain’t lawful tender for a loaf of bread.” ~Josh Billings
“Truth is the most valuable thing we have, so I try to conserve it.” ~Mark Twain
“Men occasionally stumble over the truth, but most of them pick themselves up and hurry off as if nothing had happened.” ~Winston Churchill
“The truth is more important than the facts.” ~Frank Lloyd Wright
“People who are brutally honest get more satisfaction out of the brutality than out of the honesty.” ~Richard J. Needham
“Beware of the half truth. You may have gotten hold of the wrong half.” ~Author Unknown
“Truth is such a rare thing, it is delightful to tell it.” ~Emily Dickinson
“Truth is mighty and will prevail. There is nothing the matter with this, except that it ain’t so.” ~Mark Twain, Notebook, 1935
“Reality is bad enough. Why should I tell the truth?” ~Patrick Sky
“Speak the truth, but leave immediately after.” ~Slovenian Proverb
“Always tell the truth. Even if you have to make it up.” ~Author Unknown
“A lie can travel half way around the world while the truth is putting on its shoes.” ~Mark Twain
(Another version) “A lie gets halfway around the world before the truth has a chance to put its pants on.” ~Winston Churchill ( PG wonders who really said it first.)
“It takes two to lie. One to lie and one to listen.” ~Homer Simpson
“There’s one way to find out if a man is honest – ask him. If he says, “Yes,” you know he is a crook. ” ~Groucho Marx

Today is April 15, the day we pay for our wars. In Baghdad, everyday is payday.
A unit called wikileaks recently released a video of a helicopter crew lighting up some people. Reactions range from how horrible, they deserved it, what do you expect of war, and unprintable (or unbloggable) others. Perhaps the choicest was in the video itself, something to the effect of What do you expect when you bring kids into a battle. ( on either side of the weapon)
Recently, Stephen Colbert hosted the big dog at wikileaks for a friendly chit chat. ( An interesting feature of the modern media is comedians making the most serious comments.) Mr. Colbert says that the wikidude is making a comment by calling the video “Collateral Murder”. It is noted that “90%” of people will not bother to watch the video. Julian Assange (spell check suggestions, assailant) , the Australian wikimaster, holds his own nicely, and even gets Mr. Colbert in deer in headlights land a couple of times.
Pictures are from the Library of Congress.

The following is a repost from this day two years ago. At the time, BHO was the frontrunner for the Democratic nomination. He made a comment at a private fundraiser that was quoted and made common knowledge. In retrospect, it does not seem to have hurt him very much.
The pictures are from the Library of Congress. The collection is called Daguerrotypes, which was a primitive form of photography.
“You go into these small towns in Pennsylvania and, like a lot of small towns in the Midwest, the jobs have been gone now for 25 years and nothings replaced them…And they fell through the Clinton Administration, and the Bush Administration, and each successive administration has said that somehow these communities are gonna regenerate and they have not.
“And it’s not surprising then they get bitter, they cling to guns or religion or antipathy to people who aren’t like them or anti-immigrant sentiment or anti-trade sentiment as a way to explain their frustrations.”
Unless you live under Iraq a rock, or have right wing ideas on permanent brain block, you have heard about that comment from BHO. Quite possibly, you have heard more than you appreciate, unless you are looking for a reason not to like BHO, unless you haven’t heard enough. Well, if you are in the first category, just scroll through the text and enjoy the pictures. If you are in the second group, you might not like what follows. You can still like the pictures.
1- This was a secretly recorded speech made at a fundraiser. The fatcat party was in San Francisco, a factoid that delights the hate-O crowd. What sort of person donates to a campaign
(using possibly another person’s money), so he can go to the pig party and secretly record his comments? And then take the “snippet” and release it to the shocked internet.
2- The first reaction when PG read this was that the smalltown folk have felt that way for a long long time. They loved guns and Jesus back when the factories and steelmills were wide open.
3- It is not just small town Pennsylvania that is “bitter”. ( Folks seem to have a special problem with the word bitter. One “consultant” was quoted as saying it would have been better if BHO had said frustrated.) ( This is written in Georgia, where the tea is sweet and the people are bitter) What about the guys that did a high five behind Jeremiah Wright when he screamed “G-d Damn America”? If anyone has a right to be bitter, it is the folks on the south side of Chicago, or any ghetto in America. And yes, they do cling to Jesus and Guns, as well as other nasty things.
4- It is not just America that is bitter and turning to religion. The people of Palestine and Iraq are in the same boat. They feel like forces are working against them, and they just might be right. They are turning to religion and violence as an answer to their anguish. They are being led down that wretched path by cynical clerics who exploit their unhappiness, and offer a solution through G-d. Of course these clerics seldom strap on a suicide vest, just like Jeremiah Wright does not live in a housing project.
5- This is not going to hurt BHO that much. The people who are upset are not going to support him anyway. A lot of people see the truth in what he says, and just might appreciate the fact that he was unslick enough to say something with a rough edge. He just might have known that Judas with a tape recorder was in the house.
6- Batter Better Bitter Botter Butter. The only vowel that doesn’t work in that progression is O.

PG was wandering through the waves, when he saw a facebook notice ” What my parents should have named me”. A quick google search found a source of the quiz that did not involve facebook, and the fun begins.
For those who don’t know, the author of this blog is not usually called PG, nor does he answer to Chamblee54. His driver’s license reads Luther Campbell Mckinnon, to which a Junior is sometimes added. His well meaning parents decided to call him Cam, which led to a lifetime of spelling his name, and comparisons to canned soup. Growing up in civil rights era Georgia ( and the home of MLK) made him leery of Luther. The short version is, he has never liked his name.
In the last few years, PG has been using Luther more and more. It is common enough that he doesn’t have to spell it, and sounds vaguely like Lucifer. It does sound more businesslike that Cam, and is affected less by Southern accents.
There are several schools of thought on unusual names. Many children resent the “creativity” of their parents, and choose nicknames. Others enjoy the possession of something unique. As for Cam, he might have preferred to be called Joe, but it was not his choice.
The first one chosen is labeled “only for girls”, as are several of the google options. A “generator” that does not ask questions has the added benefit of being gender neutral.
This device has the option of choosing male or female, and only asks your first and last name. For the first round here, Cam Mckinnon yields Cade. Since Cam is sometimes a female name ( another source of discomfort), the female version of this test yields Fiona. And a male Luther Mckinnon should have been named Cory.
The whole naming business is one sided, with the prior generation calling the shots for the juniors. In the digital sense of anything is possible, PG looked at a program saying what you should name your baby. After twelve multiple choice questions…all of which had three bad answers…this ad venue does not give an answer! You seem to be a pretty active person…you should consider baby names that people associate with being creative, smart, active, and strong.
This quiz is for entertainment and/or educational purposes only. All content here, including advice from doctors and other health professionals, should be considered as opinion only. Always seek the direct advice of your own doctor in connection with any questions or issues you may have regarding your own health or the health of others.
Pictures are from the Library of Congress. At least, when PG got his name, it was consistent throughout his life. This is not the practice at the Library of Congress. There are several numbers given for each image, and the one PG chose to identify pictures he saved from the collection appears to change from day to day.(This would explain the duplicates noted in the Crimean War pictures). It seems as though another number will have to be used when saving these images. This is another plus for the GSU picture collection, where the numbers for the images do not change from day to day. If you want additional information about an image, it is very helpful to be able to find it.

PG was recently asked to help a friend hone her computer skills. This is a note he sent out as a preliminary action. The pictures are from the Library of Congress, and show life during the Crimean War.
I have been thinking about what we were discussing the other night, and how to make the most of this. To begin with, what do you want to learn? Maybe make a list of the things you want to know how to do. I suspect if we were to get together without an agenda, we would get bogged down on one or two things and not accomplish much.
Another thing to consider is that I am no expert. I have never taken a class, and minimal training. I have gotten a bit of advice here and there, but a lot of what I have learned is self taught. I do have a few suggestions at the outset.
1- Do you have an earpiece for a phone? If you could work with both hands easily while talking on the phone, you could do a lot over the phone.
2- A lot of programs are available for free download. The photo shop like program i use is called gimp…gnu image manipulating program. It is a free download at http://www.gimp.org/ . I have a brief tutorial on my blog, https://chamblee54.wordpress.com/gimp/ . You can do all sorts of image oriented things with this tool. While I don’t recommend throwing your paints away, you can do a lot of the same things with gimp.
3- learn to work the keyboard. The mouse ( or touchpad on a laptop) is a good tool, and is handy/essential for some things. However, there are many things you can do from the keyboard, and it is almost always faster and easier.
There are three command keys…ctrl (control), alt (alt) and shift. To perform a function, you hold down the command key and hit another key. For example, to copy some text…use you mouse to select the text, hit ctrl+c, then go to the place where you want to copy the text, and hit ctrl+v. Under the edit tab (alt+e) of many windows, you have a list of the basic functions, along with the keyboard shortcut. To get to a tab at the top of the window, hit alt +the first letter of the tab. Sometimes this target letter is underlined.
4- Find a mouse to use with the laptop. I am not fond of those touch pads, although some like them. A mouse is cheap, and you may have one in a box somewhere. Plug it in to the appropriate place, and you are in business.
5- Relax and have a good time. It is not the end of the world if you mess up, although it can be frustrating. Ctrl+z will undo a mistake, and it is your friend. If you change something, but want to keep the original intact, go to alt+f, alt+a, give it a new name, “and save as” ( on non ms programs this is frequently ctrl+shift+s).

Chamblee54 is not too proud to recycle posts. This one is about ugly. If you are looking for beauty, and her mouthy sister truth, then look elsewhere.
Beauty is skin deep. Ugly is to the bone.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Ugly uses all five senses.
Rahsaan Roland Kirk: I don’t want to see you people, you are all too ugly.
Stevie Wonder: All I see are beautiful people.
Rahsaan Roland Kirk: You know, Stevie Wonder wants to make a lot of money, so he can have an operation and see.
Ray Charles: It’s crying time again.
She is so ugly, she could make a freight train take a dirt road.
He is so ugly, when he was born the doctor slapped his mother.
Is that your face, or did your neck throw up?
French for ugly is : laid m., laide f . Can we say irony?
There are some Jesus Worship blogs that PG likes to read. One of them recently made the lighthearted suggestion that ugly people were not welcome at the church of the other one. The recipient of this comment found this to be “the deeply offensive false accusation he keeps leveling at me.”
FromTheMorning is the one standing up for the pulchritude challenged.
Pyromaniacs is the aggrieved party here. They say that ugly people “are not only welcome at my church; many of us actually participate in the ministry there”. PG believes you.
Ugly has another meaning. In fact, this is the first meaning PG heard for the U word, years before he connected it to people with unpleasant faces. It is about ugly behavior. People that are mean and cruel to each other. That is ugly.

This trip started in the middle of March, when Uzi mentioned that he had the first week of April off, and didn’t have anything to do with it. PG suggested the hostel in brunswick, with a few side trips to the beach. A little research about the hostel followed, and it turns out the hostel had no ac and charged $25 per person/night. It was decided to look for a cheap hotel, and maybe spend one night at the hostel.
The rest of March flew by, and before anyone knew it, the departure day was tomorrow. PG got on the phone, and discovered that the hostel was full. The focus was now on finding a cheap hotel that didn’t kill. The internet yielded lots of hotel suggestions, but few phone numbers. It seems like the various services want to make the reservation for you, and get their cut. A bit of digging did yield the phone numbers, and the cell phone long distance plan came in mighty handy. A Red Roof by I95 was found to have the best rates, and a reservation was made.
On Tuesday, April 6, PG got up at 630 am. This was a bit unusual for him, but he was excited by the trip and made the transition. By 900, PG was on his way to Uzi’s place to get him. Radio whiner Mike Gallagher was talking about the warm welcome Tiger Woods was receiving at the Masters, and oh what does this say about America.
930 saw the slackmen rolling down highway 400, in search of the promised land. With two people in the vehicle, they were privileged to travel in the HOV lane, where the commoners are to your right. The traffic going through downtown was not bad, and soon the honda was rolling through the pollen clouds of Henry county. A funnel of yellow dust leered at the travelers from down the roadway, getting thicker and thicker in waves.
At 1131, the riders got to Perry GA, and bought gas. Uzi was ready for lunch, but a decision was made to push down the road a bit. At the New Perry Hotel, there was a sign saying to turn left, that PG did not notice. In a couple of minutes, they were on a two lane road in front of a tractor repair shop, and someone decided that this was not the road to the beach.
PG turned around, and went up the road for a minute, until he turned into a gas station to ask for directions. No female comedians witnessed this. He got down to the proper road, and made another wrong turn. When that road ran out, he made a right, went back through town, and redeemed himself by finding the turn sign in front of the New Perry Hotel. They got on hwy 341, and the first crisis of the trip was over.
The miles started to knock themselves down, through Hawkinsville, Eastman, and on into Mcrae. By this time the clamoring for lunch became overwhelming, A chinese buffet was rejected on appearance, and then the Southern Star Grill appeared on the left. PG turned around and went there. Uzi got a meat and three, that featured home breaded fried okra. PG got a hamburger the size of his fist.
On hwy 341, on the first part of the “Golden Isles Parkway”, prisons are a big industry. It seems like every town on that road had a correctional institute. In his days as an in house blueprinter, PG heard more than he ever wanted to know about these facilities.
The rest of the trip down was uneventful, with the Red Roof appearing at 3:45. After checking in, the slackmen decided to go visit the hostel. This meant getting back on the interstate, going one exit down, up the road about three miles, make a u turn, and then slow down dramatically after the 11 mile mark. PG tried reciting Shakespeare, but was not in the least dramatic. The sign for the hostel soon appeared.
After you went in the driveway, another sign said that if you did not have reservations, to call a phone number. Uzi called the number, and got a confusing recorded message. The pair proceeded down the half mile driveway, which is not a smooth ride. They got to a gate, and decided that they should turn around.
The road that the hostel is on leads to Jekyll Island after you pass the interstate. This seemed reasonable, until another sign said there was a five dollar charge. PG turned the vehicle around, and they headed north for Saint Simons.
542 pm-Right after the Jekyll road is the Sidney Lanier Bridge, a true marvel. This bridge towers over the marshes and waterways below, in a suspension bridge glory. Going north, a restaurant called Spanky’s was on the right, although the exact location was a bit fuzzy. This would come into play later.
Soon, the causeway for Saint Simons appeared, and there was no charge to drive to the island. A parking spot was found in the village, and the slackmen headed to the water. Alas, there was construction by the pier, and to get to the sand you needed to walk around a visitors center.
600 pm-The island was crowded with families, of all shapes, sizes, and colors. This does not include all economic categories, as most of the people appeared to be wealthy, or at least comfortable. After a few minutes walking on the sand, it was time for the next part of the day.
Uzi brought a veteran camera with him, and it appeared to be senile. Refusing to focus, unresponsive to any adjusting, the camera appeared to be obsolete. This was a great vexation for Uzi.
Leaving the island, the gentlemen started to look for the restaurant they had seen earlier. It was on the left, across a divided highway, and a trip was made across the Lanier bridge, looking for a place to turn around. It took a mile of driving down the road, before a public works yard appeared to turn around in. After going back across the bridge, a left turn appeared, with a road going back to town. The restaurant was further down the road, and missed on this trip.
745 pm- The sun was about to go down. PG stopped at a dock, and took pictures. Next, they went across hwy 341 into downtown, which was settling in for the evening. PG turned onto Egmont street, looking for the Mckinnon Bed & Breakfast. He did not find it, but did see lots of beautiful old homes and live oaks. He decided to get an address for the b&b, and use that as a base for exploring a corner of the historic district.
On the road into Brunswick one sees a few signs for “Captain Joe’s”, which was on hwy 341 on the other side of I95 from the Red Roof. The waitress assures you, “you will not leave here hungry”.
PG got fried flounder, and loaded up on the soup and salad bar. He wound up taking most of his fish with him, which became sandwiches for the next day. Uzi got a mess of locally caught shrimp. The only unpleasant part of dinner was when they left, and the waitress said “have a blessed day”.

On Wednesday, April 7,PG got up early, went to the office for coffee, and made a fish sandwich from last night’s dinner. He had gotten the street address of the Mckinnon B&B, and planned to use that as ground zero for exploring the historic district.
935 am PG and Uzi are standing in front of the Mckinnon House. It was on a street with several squares ( in Brunswick, squares are well groomed vacant lots with live oaks, palms, and magnolias), and some big houses. The houses were divided between the restored and maintained, and those who have seen better days.
1018 Stop at Mcdonalds on hwy 17. There is a marsh on the other side of the road, and the causeway to Saint Simons.
1108 The Massengale park is where PG remembers it. It is nothing fancy, just a parking lot, and a ramshackle bathhouse. The slackmen change into beach ware, and walk over the boardwalk to the sand. It turns out to be too cold for swimming, but just right for a long walk on the beach.
On the return to the parking lot, an SUV has exercised it’s entitlement to park six inches away from the drivers door on the honda. PG enters through the passenger side, and contorts himself into the drivers seat.
Uzi is ready for lunch, but a choice is made to explore a bit before going back to the red roof refrigerator. The Sea Island road is found, and shared with lots of other vehicles. There is usually an SUV behind you, that thinks you are not driving fast enough. At the entrance to Sea Island is a guard house, and a lady speaking into a walky talky. She does not admit the slackmen to the island.
The Sea Island road leads to Frederica road, which leads to this place where three roads come together in a turnaround loop. The intended destination was Fort Frederica, but a fateful turn was made onto Lawrence road. The slackmen drove for uncharted miles, through an obscene abundance of live oaks and other flora. Several stops were made to take pictures of the glory. Finally, the road ended at a gated community, across from a fenced in yard with tabby ruins. It was time to turn around.
Arriving at the three way turnaround, lunch was calling louder, but Fort Frederica was only a mile away. The actual grounds had a three dollar admission, but a movie was playing at the center for free. It turns out that the fort was a British outpost, to guard South Carolina against the Spanish in Florida. There was a little war, with a bit of killing and a lot of confusion. The Spanish wound up going back to Florida.
After leaving the park, lunch was making announcements over a speaker hidden in the live oaks. While the intention to get back to the hotel and eat was sincere, there were some more side trips that were important. The Christ Church has a lovely cemetery, which was ablaze in azalea glory.
Across the street was a forest trail, that served as a memorial to the Wesley brothers. We can thank the Methodists for this, and wonder what the Baptists have ever done to compare. At the end of the raging azaleas was an eighteen foot tall cement cross. PG thinks this would not be a good place to execute a savior, unless you have some cement nails handy.
This was absolutely the last stop before lunch. No exceptions were to be made. The Red Roof was soon in the horizon, and the last leftovers from Tuesdays dinner were consumed. Uzi made peanut butter and banana sandwiches, while PG cooked some ramen noodles. A TV show about ghosts was playing. It became apparent that several things were on the to do list, but the afternoon was slipping away, and not all would be done. When in doubt, go to the beach.
445 pm The honda pulls into the coast guard parking lot. Sun goo is applied, the gear is assembled, and the slackmen walk across the boardwalk to the sand.
The air is warmer by now, and PG is determined to swim. At first the water is cold, but the feet adjust, then the lower legs, and when the thighs get wet the toes are having a darn good time. The next step is to jump into a wave, and get totally soaked. By now his body has adjusted to the lukewarm water, and PG thinks this is the high point of his year so far. Meanwhile, Uzi sits in the sun, and looks at the world.
Dinner this night was at Spanky’s, the restaurant on Hwy17 they had tried to find tuesday night. It was not the high point of the year. The slackmen were seated immediately, at an unfortunate next to the entrance, with families waiting to eat looking on. At the next table were six teenagers, in town for some kind of conference. There was a bus in the parking lot, that apparently had been full of these hungry children. The service at the facility crawled to a stop.
It took over a half hour for dinner to arrive after it was ordered. The meal was tasty, but not worth the aggravation. When the check finally arrived at 709 pm, the server was 5145 YANKEE.
The drive back to the hotel went through downtown, and some sketchy neighborhoods north of the business district. A few of the houses were maintained, a few were not, and the live oaks and magnolias were everywhere.
Back at the Red Roof, PG goes to sleep quickly. After a while, he wakes up, to hear the TV slowly getting louder and louder. Uzi is asleep, on top of the bed, with the remote control in his hands. PG gets up, and turns the sound on the TV all the way down. A minute later, the sound is back on again. Before long, Uzi wakes up long enough to see what is going on, turns the TV off, and goes to sleep.

Thursday April 8 started early, with a few clouds in the sky. PG went to the office, drank coffee, and ate a bowl of Raisin Bran. It had been at least 30 years since PG ate cereal, with milk, for breakfast. The choice was made to go to the hostel.
The hostel is a fine place.
At 1108 am, an early lunch was had at whataburger. This was a first time for PG at WB. The honda pointed in the direction of Jekyll Island, with Uzi volunteering to pay the five dollars. Before heading onto the causeway, PG turned onto a little road underneath the Sidney Lanier bridge. At the end of this road was a place where casino boats would dock.
There is no gas for sale on Jekyll Island, and PG carelessly did not buy any before driving there. This cut back on the amount of island exploration. Jekyll has a different feel than Saint Simons, with the beach road cutting through the dunes.
A parking spot was found, and, after the inevitable preparations, the walk down to the water was made. The crowd at Jekyll was still mostly families, although the Jekyll crowd was more overweight and less affluent than Saint Simons. Still, a beach is a beach, and it is tough to not have a good time.
At 149 pm, two gallons of gas were bought at a somewhat inflated price. The car went up hwy 17 to Darien, for one last bout of sight seeing. The old city jail is an art gallery/visitors center, and the lady working there was delighted to have some company. ” Have you been in jail lately?” she said, before going upstairs for a tour of the old lockup, now a history museum. There is a copy of the 1736 Darien petition…the Scots who founded the town made an effort to keep slavery out of the Georgia colony.
The “jail lady” told PG where the town square was, but he misunderstood what she said, and headed back over the Altamaha river. Uzi had gotten a big map of Georgia, which remained on his lap for the rest of daylight. He found a road that would economically go back to 341, and take us back home.
335 pm. The gas tank is filled in Jesup. The trip mileage is estimated to be 29 mph. The road points north and west, and a cd by Peter Paul and Mary is played. The clouds at the end of the road get darker and darker, until the storm runs into the slackmen full force. The drivers windshield wiper, which had been wearing out, got much worse very quickly, with a string of black rubber flapping in the breeze. A decision was made to replace it.
454 pm. The slackmen stop at the Walmart in Hazelhurst GA. A replacement guide shows that the drivers blade is 26″, while the riders blade is 18″. The rain has dropped off while the parking lot becomes a repair garage. After much fussing and cussing, the old blade is pulled off. After even more brain damage, the new blade is installed, and the road is again under the honda.
The rain comes and goes the rest of the time on hwy 341. Hawkinsville is passed at 704 pm, and dinner is taken at the hong kong buffet in Perry. Traffic is reasonable the rest of the way home, and Uzi is delivered to his home at 1030 pm.

PG got up Tuesday April 6, at 630 am. This is highly unusual for him these days, but he had a good reason. Him and Uzi were going to the beach.
Eating breakfast and looking at the internet, PG noticed strange things happening. It seemed like a window, with a MS like emblem at the top, was warning of a security breach. PG figured it was a fraud, but did not have time to do a virus scan. He closed the window when it opened every five minutes, and decided to fix the problem when he got home. Of course, it was on his mind the entire time.
It was late thursday night, April 8, before PG was home. He plugged the phone line back into the modem, turned the devil’s machine on, and went to the car to get another armful of stuff. When he was back, the security breach warning was blaring. So much for the problem fixing itself.
A few minutes later, a window from the “virus protection service”, MF, came up. It said that it had captured a “trojan horse”, which sounded a lot like the original agent of harm. The security breach warnings stopped, and PG felt better. He was going to run a virus scan when he went to bed.
When it was time to run the virus scan, the MF window would not open. The email window would not open. The browser window would not open. PG suspected the problem was not solved. He got a phone number for MF, but their office was closed.
Friday, April 9, arrived, and PG turned the computer back on. He had thought through the night that maybe system restore could be used, to return the computer back to a pre disaster state. He quickly learned that system restore, like the other programs, would not open.
Technically, there was a way to open stuff. You clicked on the appropriate icon, and a window popped up, asking you what program you wanted to use to open this device. This worked ok for email and the internet browser. For MF, it was a mysterious file, one of two hundred thousand files with funny names. PG found an icon for MF, hit right click-properties, and found the name and location of the enabling file.
Once MF was opened, a virus scan was started. While breakfast was cooking, 30 “infected files” were found, and either quarantined or repaired. The programs started to open again.
PG called the MF office, and talked to a man ( after yelling “agent” at a few menus).PG explained that he had security service with ATT, and that MF had bought the account. The MF man offered to help, for a fee. PG was outraged, at paying MF to fix a problem they allowed to happen. A link to a “technician chat” service was received, and may be tried someday.
In the meantime, PG is keeping things backed up. Welcome back.

The following is a repost. It is written in first person. The pictures are from the Decatur Book Festival later that year. PG no longer complains about a work/sleep lifestyle.
So the website has a tape by Husker Du. I decide to download it. It is rehearsal tapes from when they were preparing to go in the studio.
I saw them sometime in the eighties. I thought it was at the metroplex, but it might have been the 688. I say this because there is a list of shows they played, and the metroplex is not on there.
I saw a show at the Metroplex the next night, but I cannot remember who. The metroplex was a dark spooky building on Marietta street near the omni. The balcony was very dark, with everything painted black, and I tripped over a bench.
Funny how HD means “do you remember”, and my memory is letting me down here.
688 was a different story. I saw a bunch of shows there, both as 688 and Rose’s Cantina. HD may have been the last show I saw before they closed. I was well into the work/sleep lifestyle that preoccupied my life after a certain point, and just didn’t make it out much anymore. A friend won tickets to the show or I wouldn’t have made it.
I didn’t get into the show very much. HD was a trio, with the later outed Bob Mould as the guitar g-d. For all of his musical skills, Mould is not much for onstage charisma. I had the feeling that if I had been more familiar with their music, I would have enjoyed it more. Some bands you can see without hearing their records and get into it right away, where others need a bit of familiarity.
The first and second times I saw Talking Heads were like night and day. The first time I won tickets, and didn’t know much about them. They were OK, but did not really impress. The second time I had played their second album enough to know all the songs, and thought the show was great. That was the night after I saw my neighbor do blackface drag at Club Sheba.
That first time, there were a bunch of security guys standing in front of the stage. They might have been needed in New York, but sleepy Atlanta was not the place. At some point in the evening, I was standing up, and raised my left arm and lifted a ceiling tile about half an inch out of its frame, and quickly put it back in. A rent a goon came by to tell me not to mess with the ceiling.
My friend and I were riding home on the bus, when a couple of black guys started talking trash to/about us. At the next stop, this rather large black man…who we knew…got on the bus and greeted us warmly.
It is a good story how I got the tickets to the first show. WREK FM was giving away tickets. I called the station, said I was a loyal listener, could I please be put on the guest list?
So, the download is over, and DSL is a gift. It is 1016 already, and I need to function in less than eight hours. That work/sleep lifestyle is a bitch.
Spell check suggestions for this feature:
metroplex- metropolis, metropolitan, retroflex, metronome, electroplate
cantina- catina, canting
mould- could, would, gould, mold, moued, mound,moult