blarg?

I am sorry I have abandoned you for this long. I’m packing in preparation of moving, I’m trying to help with this ongoing and very exciting project at work and it’s not so much that I don’t have time, but more like I need to direct my anger where it would do the most getting stuff done done.

This very exciting project at work is, as I have mentioned, very exciting. I’m sure I have no comment on its progress one way or the other, but I am compelled to revisit the seminal documents on IT project management and implementation, The Monkeybagel Document and its companion piece, the Systems Hardware Integration Tasks List.

As I say, very exciting.

According to this, the minimum salary for an NHL player is now $450,000.

According to this, the Prime Minister of Canada makes $144,300.

So the worst benchwarming goon in the NHL is now guaranteed to make more than three times as much as the person holding the most important public office in this country.

I can go to an Ottawa 67s game and get a good seat, a hot dog and a beer for less money than it costs to park at an NHL game.

Dear NHL: Fuck you guys.

Update!

Dear Hockey Fans: Looking around the net, I see that many of you are chomping at the bit, truly looking forward to letting the league ride you like a pony and turn you into glue as needed.

Stop. Feeding. The Beast.

This week’s episode of When Aging Low-Rises Attack involves an overflowing drainpipe in the stairwell just outside my building, which is designed such that, should it back up, the water (or, in this case, “sewage”) has nowhere to go but under the fire door at the end of the building and into the hallway immediately outside my apartment.

So, for a day or two, the hallway smelled suspiciously like bag full of rotting gym socks.

That was a week ago.

Then the hot weather started creeping in. The management has informed me that they are “waiting for the carpet to dry” so that they can have it “professionally cleaned” which as of right now, when they said they’d be doing he cleaning, has not happened. In the meantime, somebody sprayed it with something, and for a few days it smelled like a bag of rotting gym socks plus a bag of used chewing gum.

Since then, it’s only gotten worse.

The heat brings the stench of dried sewage into our apartment, and we haven’t been able to live here for three days. My family has been putting me up overnight. The smell crawls into everything; damp towels left to hang dry stink of it in the morning, water left in the kettle has to be poured out, the kettle rinsed. We come by every day to open the doors and windows and turn on the fans to try and air the place out, and then leave again. So we can sleep someplace that, you know, doesn’t smell like steam coming out of a sewer.

I’m so fucking angry right now that I can barely stand.

Update: Just as I finished typing this, somebody walked around in the hall spraying air freshener around. My hands are twitching.

As many of you know I am a simple, humble man who lives according to some simple, humble tenets. “Do unto others”, for example, and “When you don’t have anything nice to say, say the vilest, most vicious thing that pops into your tiny head.”

This is why, when my team pulled it together tonight to come back from 13-11 down to win our game, I was at a loss for words. Those six muscles it reportedly takes to smile? Atrophied! The best I could manage was how nice it was for the team to finish with a win instead of folding up like a prostitute caught in a deck chair.

But truly, I mean that in the nicest possible way. And I really do love playing with all of my teammates. Boy, though, I’m glad that drought was over, and in fact that they continue to put up with me at all.

Look, it’s 2005 and you’re not allowed to just spooge your .ini and .tmp files all over the filesystem anymore, full stop. In a sane world, you never would have in the first place, but Win95 sucked, Win98 sucked and nobody using WinNT ever turned that shit on, so I can understand how you got into the habit. But those days are over, so for the love of all that is sane and sacred, you need to knock that shit off.

Use your environment variables. The machine knows where you can write, and where you can’t, so ask. It’s not rocket science; not like deciphering your oblique, pointless numbered error messages, anyway.

Look, if you’re a programmer, you’re probably local-admin on your box. So get yourself a typical, unprivileged-user account on your machine and do your thing. And if your thing fails dramatically in the first twenty seconds of use, maybe you should figure out why before you ship.

I’d like to share a mental image with you.

Suppose you’re getting a root canal done, and your dentist has somehow broken your nose going about it the usual way and decided that he needs to go in through your rectum instead.

I submit to you that this entire process would actually hurt less than watching some of the Ultimate I’ve been a party to this week.

I mean, Jesus, people.