Just say “whoa!”

Better living through pharmacology has been my motto these past few days. I am especially enamored of a pill that I think should be remarketed as “Phuqital”, because whenever I eat one I could care less about anything.
I feel like an old man: my loving wife lays out all the days pills with the times I’m supposed to eat them, and that’s that. Next thing I know and I’ll have a plastic pill case with the days of the week printed on it.
Working at home has been nice. Household of kids, all out for the summer, one employed, one sleeping until noon, the other nagging me to install IM after years of being banned from the evil medium. And hacking away at the issues of Lenovo …
Right now the focus is Linux Linux and more Linux. I bought three more O’Reilly bibles and have settled on “Running Linux” as my primer. Downloading the latest Ubunto ISO image and will trash a Dull Inspiron 1200, the nastiest piece of plastic computing junk to ever cross my desk. Even the 12 year-old told me it was a POS, so I shall sacrifice it to the FDISK gods and see if I can make it sing the Ubuntu song. Speaking of Linux, talk about a bad press whaling. CRN tars us last week with a headline that we’re “shunning” Linux when nothing could be further from the truth. I mean cmon, Thinkpads are the platform of choice for the Opensource mob and don’t we know it. Retractions and corrections and amended pieces were run in eWeek, CNET, and elsewhere, but did that get the heat seeking geeks at Slashdot to post the same number of rants that they did in response to the CRN mess? Course not. The first brush to tar is the stickiest. I’d make a terrible flak.
Finished Philbrick’s “Mayflower.” Eh. It was okay. The King Phillip Indian War is a great tale, but somehow Philbrick didn’t whack it out of the park the way he did with “In the Heart of the Sea.” Working on the proposal for the Chatfield Book, but my concentration under the influence of Phuqital is somewhat lacking.

I rather be shopping for a new bike, but no word from the insurance goons. The bike shop told me the old baby — my Toby Stanton bequeathed LeMond ridden by Viktor Rapinski for Team Saturn — is toast. Which sucks. It was cool to be a fat man on a pro’s bike. Figures I’d be the one to lunch it on the front end of a Chevy Malibu.

Well, time for bed before I start crushing muscle relaxants under a juice glass on the granite counter and snort them ….

Author: David Churbuck

Cape Codder with an itch to write

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