30th April 2008
Time for a quickie...
For the US peeps, Humphrey Lyttleton was a national treasure who died last week. He was famed for his innuendo in the most innocent delivery you can imagine. This has prompted a slew of great examples. My favorite on so many levels is:
My girlfriend asked me for an example of a double entendre. So I gave her one.
Which tangentially reminds me of my all time favorite joke...
A chap buying a train ticket from a remarkably buxom young lass accidentally came out with "Could I please have a second class picket to Tittsburgh?" and then looked horrified at his mistake. I tapped him on the shoulder and said "Don't worry mate. It's a Freudian slip -- I make them all the time -- for example, while breakfasting with my wife this morning I had meant to say 'Darling, please pass the sugar' but it came out 'You f***ing bitch. You ruined my life.'"
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 14:33 BST, by Kenny
Not just a pretty face
A compadre and I were just out having a smoke and debating sensor technology. From my last job, I have a fundamental distrust of anything that controls movement of anything based on a sensor's state (John and Dr Stu will understand why).
While I went off on one about how much money I had wasted thanks to sensors being, in general, pretty crap technology, we watched the sensors on the carpark gate and speculated as to when they would finally go completely fruit-loop and crush a car passing through them. I continued on with my rant and then came out with possibly the most intelligent thing I have said all year:
"What they want to do is base all sensors on the gyroscopes they put in iPods. After all, you can pretty much trust gravity."
On the face of it, it's a pretty obvious comment to make however mi'colleague gave me that "bloody-hell, did Kenny really say that?" look. In a very friendly, yet derisory manner he muttered "you ought to write that down". So I have.
The rest of the world has probably had this Stone Age idea a million times before but it has only just struck me.
Be pleased for me and my simple enjoyment of the stunningly obvious.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 11:26 BST, by Kenny
29th April 2008
Is it bedtime?
If it is, I'm going to sulk.
Today has been one of those happy, happy days that seem not to come around quite as frequently as they should.
I've got some gubbins going on at the moment that is all very exciting. I mean exciting in a way that I have not had for ten years (no -- get your mind out of the gutter -- not that). Really finger-licking good exciting. I think only the Waaart is fully privy to the detail and the magnitude of this at present. Unfortunately it will have to stay that way for a while longer, but rest assured that y'all will be the first to know.
Oooh, oooh, and I got a parcel today! It contained all sorts of goodies from gorners.com's very own US correspondent, Tasha. I now have enough candy to merit the price of going to the dentist's; that is not a problem. What will be a problem is trying keep hold of the merchandise. Die Fuhrer spotted immediately that candy was involved so was hovering as I opened it. Fortunately I'm about 3 feet taller than her so she could not see the contents of the box. She knew there was candy though and has passed this gen on to mater who will no doubt try to make an assault on it while I'm at work. This calls for some serious thought before bed.
Tasha also tried to launch a terrorist attack on the UK by sending streamer poppery things, one of which must have been fiendishly programmed by Tasha herself to explode prior to arrival. It was a fantastic idea because when I opened the box, it was full of glittery streamery thingumies. Customs must have taken one look and gone "awwww, isn't that just so sweet!" so she lives to plot her next assault. Come to think of it, the postage was paid in Franklins but the postmark said Bora Bora. Am I wrong in thinking that Bora Bora is not in Virginia?
Now for the real prize. Coffee snobs will choke on their espressos when I reveal that I asked Tasha to send me some Folgers coffee. Good old Midwestern Joe (I know it's not Midwestern per se but everyone I knew in every Smallville in the Midwest drank it). There is nothing I love more on a Sunday morning than Folgers, black with no sugar (just a gallon or so). A million great days have started with just that. I'm not wasting it on weekdays when I'm too rushed to even taste coffee. This is the real Sunday deal. Don't even try to call me before noon. I'll be Folgering with Barbara Ellen as company. That is unless you're on my list above left. If you're not then no, you cannot come and share the joy. I suppose Tasha can join in if she's passing.
Thrown in with all my goodies was a copy of Tasha's paper. Don't tell me you didn't know she was a journalist. Neither did I when I first brokered the Aero Treaty of a good while back. Anyhow, she is and she made the front page for all the right reasons. I was going to watch an NCIS before retiring but I think I will acquaint myself with the goings on in Virginia.
So a big thank you in the direction of VA. Loved it.
Other little bits and bobs helped make my day too:
Apple randomly decided that they were reducing the prices of the music I have bought from iTunes and have credited my account with the delta -- this is not to be sniffed at.
My unrequited love for Her Bryony-ness was rekindled when she replied to a nagging email from me to tell me that she had just got back from China so was jet-lagged to hell and then asked me who the hell I thought I was to bug her about blogging when she has a massive piece to write for the Telegraph. (She didn't really ask me that but she does have work to do). I look forward to reading her take on China -- I loved it. Her email reminded me that I am starting to get really itchy feet. I suffer badly from wanderlust and it's been nearly three years since I last left these shores -- must go somewhere, even if it's just Spain for a week.
See? A thoroughly enjoyable day. Now all go away and send someone some candy at random. You should sleep better knowing you've put a smile on someone's face. You know -- "practice random kindness and senseless acts of beauty".
Ooooh, did I mention that United were OUTSTANDING.
Tomorrow I may explain Kenny's idea for making the Murdoch empire look like a chicken feed organization.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 23:46 BST, by Kenny
OUTSTANDING
Out-frickin'-standing.
Ferdinand, Brown, Evra, Hargreaves -- Outstanding.
Park, Scholes, Nani -- Outstanding.
Carrick -- Good.
Tevez, Ronaldo -- Outstanding.
Van Der Sar -- Good.
My hands are still shaking from the adrenalin. More in a bit because, contrary to what my heart rate might say, other good things have happened today.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 21:52 BST, by Kenny
Ob-search strings
Just 'cos it's low maintenance, I'd like to make a few comments about people who arrive here by accident, fate or horseback:
To those who came looking for a "whore agency in Luton", my humblest of apologies, I cannot help you. I have spent some time in Luton (in fact I spent a lifetime there one evening) but I must have missed the whore agency while dodging rats.
To those disenfranchised souls who hit here multiple times a day looking for info on Kate Silverton being a lesbian, again I disappoint. But for what it's worth I am 99.996% sure that she's not. Sorry.
Now for those who came looking for an "annoyed meerkat", I am pleased to say I can help.
Likewise, whoever had the good taste to be looking up "ncis goth", she's called Abby (Pauly Perrette) and I salute your fine taste in women sir/madam.
Starbucks time.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 09:28 BST, by Kenny
28th April 2008
Psssst, what's that sound?
It's the sound of a bonfire being ceremonially extinguished.
Every now and again, I forward one of my posts here to the maternal unit. I made the mistake of sending her my Bill Oddie post. The phone rang.
"God. You'll get sued. Take it down straight away."
"Don't be daft. Jees, if you think that's bad, if Kylie or Michael Owen ever hit my website, I'll be toast."
"What, you've written blogs on them as well?"
"Well yes, but they weren't totally cruel."
"They were, weren't they?"
"Let's put it this way: I balance out my pathological hatred for a select few with gushing posts about people I do like. In the vast scheme of things, I'm not sure any of the recipients of my attention could or would give a discarded Kylie CD about it. In general, the majority come out with a Kenny thumbs up."
"You're going to end up in trouble."
"Ah mater, hopper in the grass, you have a great deal to learn about the wonders of t'interweb. If I started a website that was overtly condoning the genocide of Antipodean midgets, then I might get a slapped wrist. Fact is that I'm not anti-Antipodean midgets -- for example, I have a Natalie Imbruglia song on my iPod. Okay, she's not strictly a midget but you see my point? I'm not inciting violence or hatred. Do you honestly think that I would sanction anyone kicking Bill Oddie in the backside? No, I wouldn't. However were that fine opportunity to present itself to me, I couldn't not be true to myself. If there are like-minded individuals out in the ether (I know they exist -- I can name two straight off the bat) who were to find themselves in the same position, they can make their own minds up as to whether they kick the smutty little jerk in the hoo-ha or not. If I've thought it, other people will have. Did you know there are some really nasty people on t'interweb who would regard my playful daydreams as lame? It's a wicked world out there."
"But it's libelous."
"Surely if something is true, by definition it's not libel."
"But you don't know it's true."
"What? You think I don't know that I would quite happily volunteer Bill Oddie to be the first uncrafted man to attempt to reach the sun? That Kylie really does give me nightmares? That Michael Owen's goal-scoring prowess is just a smidgin' short of utter shite? Purleeeasssse."
"I'm going. You're wrong and Robson Green is coming on now."
"Did I mention how much I ha..."
click
Bill, Kylie, Donkey, Robson, just in case you ever stumble across this, just remember littera gesta docet, quid credas, allegoria.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 22:49 BST, by Kenny
More hatred...
Fresh from my Bill Oddie antics, I have just had a picture of Kylie pinned up on my wall by an esteemed colleague, just next to my disabled badge (they love me really). The blood pressure is soaring. I've made the mistake of telling the guys here about my Oddie allergy so I can guess what's next.
In the meantime, Waaaart is plotting:
> You know about Saturday -- complete write-off during the day. The
> evening wasn't too bad (see blog).
Yeah. Read it. Made me laugh. Jonathan Woss should do a Friday night with Bill the-big-O and wily Kylie. We should chain you up and make you watch it in the audience sans nuclear devices.
I really need to take up boxing or something.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 15:47 BST, by Kenny
Feckwit of the day
Monday mornings are, in general, quite surreal as I ease myself back into work, but this morning merits a triple-take. This is a quote from the BBC website, sent in by a reader:
"A nuclear power other than Israel in the Middle East might bring a balance of power to the region" -- Dorand Luciano
Further proof that you really shouldn't let Joe Public air his bar-room politics on the national stage.
Of all the daft things I will probably hear today, I will be astounded if anything beats that piece of insanity.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 10:01 BST, by Kenny
27th April 2008
Bill Oddie is geniunely a t**t.
Last night's do went rather well. I rather enjoyed it.
My old CTO chappy's sister is a sound producer for the BBC. She's been working with Bill Oddie. She explained that he's manically bipolar and you have to work around his "genius". Can you imagine saying that with a straight face when I am part of a conversation involving just four people? One of the people nodded politely, my old CEO listened with a wry grin and I listened to my blood pumping with hatred for Bill Oddie. I managed fine until she started a (what was unsurprisingly last) story about Bill. Apparently, they have a mobile studio thingumy for Naturewatch which is a bit rickety. People are not allowed to climb underneath it for health and safety reasons however his Billness was once caught under it with just his arse sticking in the air.
Well, you can guess what happened next can't you?
Kenny the demure chortles politely and then the adrenalin kicks in.
"Did you not just welly him up the backside with a ferocity reserved for Didier Drogba? I mean a really well timed toe-bunger right up the jacksy?"
"No, we told him he was the star of the show and we couldn't let him do that sort of thing because it was too dangerous."
"Damn. How could you resist? Is he likely to do it again? Can I come and give him what is coming to him, you know for the people?"
Polite laughter.
"No, I mean it -- I'll even buy some steelies for the occasion. I could claim they were for safety reasons, sneak them on set and wham! 'Take that you sanctimonious dipshit.' -- I'd be a national hero."
At this point my old CEO casually stood on my foot in a style similar to that of when we used to have management meetings and I was making the fatal mistake of applying common sense to a problem rather than just smiling politely while nodding.
"Ah, yes," I said meekly, "Well, it's an open offer..."
Cue: kick to the shins.
Ironically I was drinking J2Os. Imagine the carnage I could have inflicted upon a perfectly good do with a gallon of Stella down my neck.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sun 19:28 BST, by Kenny
26th April 2008
Dilemma
Okay, I know you're all a street-smart bunch who hobnob with the big guys on a daily basis. I'm a bit more down-market for the most part so it will come as a bit of surprise to you that I'm off out for (gasp) a third social engagement in two weeks. This one is the x0th birthday of my old CTO's wife (where x must remain undisclosed on pain of blackmail -- see later).
My main problem is what to buy her. Seems pretty easy eh? Not so. If I get this wrong, the rest of my public life as we know it could be splashed across every paper in the country. Well, okay, just a few boring trade rags, but oh the shame.
The thing is that many years ago when we were faffing around with our then start-up company, we had a bit of a "do" at the Black Sheep brewery. All the staff who were in the country at the time, along with their partners and our venture capital people pitched up for some serious supping.
Tricky and I had just spent some time at Motorola in Plantation FL (near Fort Lauderdale) and had discovered Sawgrass Mill (a mall) and the goodies therein. We were very proud of our designer underwear; so much so that it somehow managed to crop up in conversation. Our office manager lady eventually plied us with enough bitter to loosen both our inhibitions and belts. Unbeknownst to us, Mrs CTO had her camera primed at the ready.
The following weeks were hot sweats, dodgy emails and a shadow cast so long over me that I decided to up and move to the US.
That shadow has a better than average chance of reappearing tonight if I make the wrong move. By this time tomorrow, my CK undergarments may well be blazened across t'interweb.
Naturally I have had my lawyers draw up a blanket injunction against that kind of thing, but she's fiendishly clever. That said, I horse-whipped the Telegraph crossword this morning so am prepared for any wit.
Come on peeps -- I need ideas fast. I'll have a small window in an hour or so to check email from McDs. Don't let me down.
--
PS: This post has deliberately not mentioned the team who cannot be mentioned until later today. It's kind of like "the Scottish play" thing. I'm sure you understand.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sat 11:49 BST, by Kenny
25th April 2008
Giant Twister
Kenny astounded by level of sophistication of Syria.
It seems our handy dandy lame-duck president has authorized some men in black to disclose that Syria had a nuclear reasearch programme. I say had; it allegedly existed before the Israelis decided that leveling the facility was part of their daily exercise regime.
To prove the point, the CIA have given us this photo which has been helpfully annotated by someone (probably in their bedroom using GIMP), comparing a North Korean facility with the Syrian one pre-concreting:
Does this not remind you of my earthquake horror story?
I think the Korean one looks splendid. I can't remember the rules for twister but that looks like a demon layout to me. I am troubled by the Syrian effort though. It appears to be shielded by a wicker construction. The last time I did any nuclear physics, I'm not sure we covered the defensive properties of wicker. I must look that one up.
Another explanation could be that it's a gigantic septic tank with multiple man-hole covers for resiliency and DR purposes.
The mind just boggles at the number of different applications there are for such a colorful array of spots.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 10:29 BST, by Kenny
24th April 2008
Friends of a feather
There's a mixed metaphor in here somewhere to do with birds of a feather and fair-weathered friends. Or maybe it's a spoonerism mixed with a metaphor, or a spiche crossed with a cloonerism. Whatever it is, it's a bit unique. And probably inappropriate (not in that sort of way).
Okay, you can tell my brain is not firing on all cylinders. It's raining and I have not spotted the opportunity to nip through midfield, duck behind the defense and score a vente cappuccino with an extra shot while trying to talk sensibly and objectively about the football with the friendly Polish lass who works there, without getting drenched.
The thing is that for two weeks only, scouse fans and Man U fans are suddenly each others' bestest of mates. If the results go the way each camp would like, that chummy, affectionate, slap-on-the-back camaraderie will seem like a pre-historic myth this time next week. I stress "if". If they don't, that joint front may well extend until August. A summer of ceased hostilities, where even laws may change. This would mean that my brother's marriage could become legal. The Flip-Flop is of scouse descent albeit a lapsed one who supports United so technically, under Kenny law (which is like Sharia but less liberal), the marriage was illegal. This fine window of opportunity should be grabbed to finally acknowledge the vows they took. Seeing I'm feeling in a generous mood, I'll also lift the fatwah on their bastard cat, Pickles.
As an aside, I had a fright when I had my genealogy kick a few years back and found a John 'Horrocks' in our family tree who was listed as being an inhabitant of Liverpool. I cried for days until I raised the money to have him exhumed and his DNA cross-checked against my own to prove once and for all that I am not of scouse lineage.
Anyhoooo, I published my exchange with W yesterday re the Liverpool game.
This is this morning's opening salvo from W:
Subject: Hard luck
Sorry about the Ronaldo penalty dude.
You're in a similar, but better, position to us now. All square, but with the home leg to go. Could've used an away goal though - pitty Riise isn't playing for Barca.
You'll probably thrash them at OT.
W.
You see what I mean? We have never been this tounchy-feely about football and while we're the best of mates, when it comes to football, the gloves are off. Only, in this case, the gloves are off because there's no fight.
Shocking.
Come up with your own metaphors and cliches. I'm gob-smacked at this civility. I'd have a lie down but I really must get on with some work.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 09:43 BST, by Kenny
23rd April 2008
Token condolences to Liverpool fans
Just to prove that not all United supporters are tossers -- out of all the remaining teams, I would least like to meet Liverpool in the final.
From an email exchange with a Scouse fan this morning:
>
> God. Gutted.
Don't blame you. Although sympathy is only moderately useful, you have mine.
>
> I can't believe it. 1-1. A fairer result would have been 3-0 to
> Liverpool.
Agreed. You ended up playing the game that we did on Saturday -- 11 men vs one very good (and lucky) goalie.
>
> The turning point for me was Fabio Aurelio being stretchered
> off. Before that they couldn't get the ball off us. We would have
> scored again were it not for the break in play which allowed them
> back in. Plus, of course, Aurelio going off meant bloody Riise coming
> on, and as I've said in recent weeks he just isn't good enough to
> play for Liverpool. Why the hell he tried to head it 1 ft off the ground
> rather than smacking it into the stand I'll never understand...
>
> The thing I'm most cross about, however, notwithstanding the away
> goal, was Chelsea's treatment of Fernando Torres. They kicked
> fricken lumps out of him, punched him, kneed him, butted him.
> It was disgusting. I hope he gets a bleeding hat trick at Stamford
> Bridge. ... which should be renamed HMP Stamford Bridge, given
> that last night was criminal.
>
If I were you, I'd be more pissed off with Drogba's antics. He was an absolute arse. All those theatrics were the reason there was so much extra time.
What got me about the Torres thing was that they were overtly hacking him and the ref, for the most part, completely ignored it. I recall one incident specifically when he was decked and it was a happy "play on" signal. Even I was shouting at the TV.
I've never seen Chelsea play a physical game before. When we play them with slightly more body contact than their masseurs, they roll on the floor whinging like girls, so I was gob-smacked when they started meting some out.
You were robbed.
Let's just hope that you feckin' spank them next week. And hopefully you can beat them at the physical game. I'm sure we'll try our best to take Drogba out on Saturday...'whoops, there goes Paul Scholes in on Drogba (Hawking: "Scholesy....nooooooooo!") and quite frankly Andy, I can say that even for Paul Scholes, that was particularly martially arty. There really was no need for the follow up stabbing. Looks like Drogba may be out for a while, although his lack of movement would seem to indicate that it's only a surface wound or given the mis-timing of the head-kick, he may be dead. I'm sure Grant will want him back in training tomorrow, practicing his leg-clutches. What will this do for Liverpool's chances in the second leg I wonder?'
K
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 11:02 BST, by Kenny
One for the lads...
You know that morning feeling when you're just waking up having had an evening of something fun? And you lie there in the state that you were the previous night?
I have had one of those this morning.
And it's all down to VLANs.
I spent yesterday working out and designing some VLANs and my joy was carried over to this morning where even more VLANs were on my mind. I really cannot get enough of VLANs. Stupid, sexy VLANs.
If I'm feeling a bit "wey-hey" later, I might think about a bit of IP tunneling too.
You with me or what?
This post was brought to you with a double helping of oozing, sickly sarcasm.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 10:28 BST, by Kenny
22nd April 2008
Crikey 'eck
If Bin Laden doesn't get you, the gas board will.
Don't panic. I was doing the Guardian in the Delphi about a mile away when that happened.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 15:57 BST, by Kenny
Got to love it...
When someone comes by here with the following as a referer:
http://www.google.co.uk/search?hl=en&q=kate+silverton+%2B+boyfriend&meta=
The beauty? The hostname from which the search came:
webgw4.mh.bbc.co.uk
It's kind of like that person who hit here from the Telegraph (Canary Wharf) searching for "Bryony Gordon as a mentor".
I used to hate it when people I kind of knew ended up finding my little piece of ether by googling me. Quite a few were people I work/have worked with who I vaguely knew, who went out of their way to google and find me. I wouldn't mind but I'm not exactly even vaguely famous so what on earth were they looking for? It's kind of spooky, but not in a "we want to have your babies" good sort of way. It's why I'm Kenny (well, there are other reasons too) and a google won't help you find my blog, even if you know my name.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 14:48 BST, by Kenny
Music to the ears of 15 miles West
I'm going to go out on a limb here. You'll probably be able to lambaste me tomorrow.
I think the rumblings about Chelsea manager, Avram Grant and the alleged lack of backing from board and fans alike will trump Liverpool's board-room troubles and the scousers will walk away from tonight's opener with a lead.
Methinks Grant and Lampard doth protest way too much. I like Benitez's way of dealing with unrest: "Trouble in the board-room? Oh, right. I'll soon sort that out." You have to like the man for his sheer bloody mindedness.
Were I a betting man, I might put forward a 2-1 Liverpool win.
There you go W...I'll get back to insulting Anna Friel now, well after the obligatory Starbucks.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 09:29 BST, by Kenny
21st April 2008
Let me get this right
Bank details £50bn lending boost.
So if I take my salary for the month and put it on the 3:30 at Haydock (I'm not a greedy man so I'm not talking an outsider and, to be honest, favorites are too high risk for too little return so I'll opt for something at around 10:1 -- I think most venture capitalists would be happy with a 10x ROI) and it loses, can I ask the Bank of England to bail me out?
If I'm the butcher at the end of the road and I mismanage my business, can I too be bailed out?
If I'm Mr HBOS, HSBC or Northern Rock, and I find myself with a company that has serious cash-flow problems, can I ask the people to bail me out and then claim my six-figure bonus for the year?
Only one of those three questions has yes as an answer.
Don't tell me it's anymore complicated than that because it really isn't. Apparently banks operate under different rules to the rest of us.
Come May 2nd, I fear Gordon might have a bit of a hangover and lots of tear-filled scotch glasses (probably paid for by you and I).
I'm serious. Emmigration sounds like a damned fine bet to me. This place is going nowhere fast.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 13:51 BST, by Kenny
20th April 2008
Auracaria is my bitch
Well, at least today he is.
Ahem.
While not wishing to blow my own trumpet too hard, can I just point out that I battered yesterday's Auracaria in under a couple of hours.
Can I say "Come and have a go..."? I can. And have done.
You may all bow in the direction of Wigan immediately.
PS: Who the hell gave Barbara Ellen time off? You'd think I buy the Observer for nothing.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sun 16:59 BST, by Kenny
File this one under "headlines you never expected to read"
No, Kenny has not given up smoking.
But John Prescott suffers/has suffered from bulimia nervosa.
I could have woken up to the news that I'd won the lottery without having bought a ticket and been less shocked. This was a double triple-take.
I am genuinely serious though when I say that bulimia is one awful affliction for an old man of his size to have. It must have taken some strength to admit to it. You'll forgive me if I slip on my bed-wetting slippers here and say that I'm glad he has publicly acknowledged his problem. I say problem in the medical sense, not in a pschological one. Too often diseases like this are sensationalized by coverage of string-bean tuppenny B-list celebs; so much so that we virtually ignore them. That kind of negative publicity and the lack of compassion must put any average Joe/Joanne in the street in an intolerably difficult position and must make it very difficult to summon up the courage to seek help. Knowing you can be over 15 stone and still bulimic might push that doctor's door more open by a few inches.
For once old two-jags may have done something worthwhile that didn't involve decking a member of our esteemed gutter press.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sun 12:05 BST, by Kenny
19th April 2008
Lust for life
I'm starting to really enjoy Saturdays. I might go so far as to say that they're the highlight of my week. I'd love to explain why but one half is dead personal and the other would be a cocktail of mad thoughts from which no intelligent conclusion could be drawn. I suppose that second half kind of gives it away somewhat. There's only two states you can put a Kenny in to reach that level of distraction. This is the good way.
The day started off with a pretty hollow pseudo-victory. I was just thinking about getting ready to go do my Saturday thing when Pater rolled up looking a bit concerned. I was not surprised when his first words were "Have you done the crossword?" because that is how most of my conversations start. I had. In fact, I had done it with barely a blink; it was a bit insulting really. Apparently the paper boy had not delivered Pater's Telegraph so he had driven round here to see if I would scan mine for him. Unfortunately mine was complete with answers. So I scanned his Guardian for tomorrow, after I've battered the Observer.
A quick check of the old email confirmed that Tasha had received her stash of mint aero-y goodness which was a relief seeing as how the girl in the post office in Holbeck could not divide 90 by 3 so putting something in the right box would undoubtedly have taxed her somewhat. I kid ye not. I literally left wondering whether she noticed when she woke up in the morning. Anyway, all is good and Tasha is sorted.
A further check of the email later saw another email from Tasha. I have a parcel en-route. Can I say "woot" or is that a bit too flamey?
In between emails I did manage to get where I was meant to be going and had a good old chin-wag with E. I think I've got a bit beyond fond...must...bite...tongue. Must not break Kenny's rule number one.
At this point I've just remembered a conversation I had with my old CEO last week. Somehow we got on to the subject of happiness; I can't remember how, but we did. As is usually the case, since he is a fountain of knowledge on any subject you care to raise, he has spent a while reading books on the subject. As he put it "not those daft airport 'How to feel wonderful by eating Llamas' or whatever books" but scientific studies of when people are most happy.
Apparently, rather than ask people when they were happiest in the last two weeks to which they usually respond with an isolated incident, a more frequent sample of how people were feeling was taken.
Cut to the chase: the conclusion is that if you can immerse yourself into something for hours on end willingly, you're pretty much at your happiest, no matter how trivial that something is.
I suppose that should not come as any great shock because I spend hours blogging, hours faffing with gadgets, would love to spend more time than just Saturday afternoons doing what I do then, and have lost weeks of my life in writing code and reading. I guess with that as a definition, I'm pretty happy at the moment.
The only thing I would argue is that short periods of intense happiness will always trump sustained ones. I'm a bit of an addict for those. And I usually get them on Saturdays.
The only damp squib during today was the footie. After having accused Chelsea of some dire football on Monday, I can say with sincerity that Utd were lucky to scrape a draw at Blackburn. Some will argue that were it not for Friedel, we would have won but I'd say we were at best average and certainly did not deserve three points. While disappointing, it really does set up next week's game at Chelsea as the game of the season.
Now, it's NCIS gothy techie lass and some Dante. I'm so easily pleased.
Seeing I'm feeling so uncharacteristically happy, I'll say I hope you all enjoyed your day as much as I did. Treasure it because they don't call me "Narky Aardvark" for nothing. In fact they don't call me that at all anymore. They probably should.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sat 20:41 BST, by Kenny
17th April 2008
Token gush
Well, Bryony's column speaks for itself really, as does the quantity of comments. The usual crowd of ignorant commenters who excel at being offensive apparently have been shamed into silence by the contents of the article. As my gay former-VP would say, "You go girl." -- he said that to me on a number of occasions and I was never sure how to respond so did a Dave Gahan whip toting action over my head with a "woot, woot, you got it boy". That last bit is obviously not true but if I had, he would have laughed. After all, when he sat me down and told me he was gay I said "I know. No straight man is so well dressed." -- he took me out for Sushi that night. I should have asked for a pay rise while sharing a dessert with him but I always have all the good ideas after the fact.
The one thing I would kind of pick Bryony up on is that we're not in any great danger from abusive comments (note the delineation between comments and blogs -- anyone can blog whatever but even more people can leave nasty anonymous comments). Right from the early days of t'interweb when a 2400 baud modem was luxury and geeks gooed on IRC, there were a fair number of intolerant, bigoted apes. If anything I think the proportion of users of the internet who are goons has gone down as adoption has increased.
There will always be offensive people. Thankfully, in Cyberspace, no-one can hear you hit the delete key.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 16:33 BST, by Kenny
Telegraph battered, Kenny shattered
The Telegraph crossword was more like a Guardian today. It was done, but it took some mental gymnastics and muchos coffee.
Time for a couple of cantos before I snuggle down in my fresh sawdust.
Bryony day tomorrow. I've been neglecting drooling over her for a while so I may have a shot at that tomorrow if I have the time.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 00:00 BST, by Kenny
16th April 2008
Not Aldante or Dante
My alter-ego of Kendante (brother of Al Dante and Mr Dante) has taken a back seat for a while. Partially because I was accused by email of writing "homo-erotic poetry" and partially because, much like my Clousseau phase, I tend to slip into character at the most unfortunate moments. To wit:
"Do you have a leesance fur zis soft bear? Ner? Ah, yess, I knew that yer stoopide ferl."
Homo-erotic? Quoi? We have a saying at work that says if you can think of something, no matter how obscure, it will be on the internet in a depth that will take your breath away. I was convinced (and still am given that I haven't checked) that no-one had ever tried to report on a football season in a Dante-esque style. And I'm pretty damned sure that no-one has ever tried to compare Beatrice to the Premiership title. I fail to see how it's homo-erotic but I'm happy for people to get off on it if it is, albeit I feel like I need a shower now.
Time has been precious for the last couple of days. You know how it goes; meetings, more meetings, impromptu meetings to review things you haven't done because of meetings etc.
Yesterday evening I used my Satnav in anger for the first time. I had to get to the Peak District to meet my old CEO at his new house for dinner. Given that I am not exactly well up on traversing that bit of the country and given the standard of intricacy of the roads, I was very pleased to find his house on the first shot. It is now a Kenny-approved gadget.
Dinner was lovely and we sat and chatted the legs off the dogs until I suddenly realized that if I didn't leave in the next five minutes it would be well gone midnight by the time I got home. As always, it was a fun evening trading tales of corporate and market madness together with a whizz through our latest respective musical loves. He was all up for the Dolly Parton gig until he realized he's not in the country on that date. I think I might invite my mate E from Eccles -- she's always up for a laugh.
This morning, I have sat through an hour of talking about Sun hardware with their sales people. Having been on both sides of the sales fence, as Mr Marketing and Mr DoIWantOneOfThese, I always watch the interactions between the sales guys and the potential buyers with a great deal of interest. As far as customers go, we're a fairly tame bunch so we're very open and friendly with our suppliers. I say that because I have come across some openly hostile engineers who see the words "sales" or "marketing" and go into defensive mode ignoring the fact that the person actually might know more than they do technically. Alors, I'd like to say that I learned a lot about their processors and their roadmap but, to be honest, there was nothing in it that a good Starbucks trip could not have easily matched in terms of consciousness.
Aldante will return, I'm sure; if only to piss some people off. :)
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 13:45 BST, by Kenny
14th April 2008
I am so going to Hell for this one
In which Kenny proves that it is possible to watch Chelsea play like real pensioners, read poetry and look a smart-arse simultaneously.
As I started my journey, clothed in only pain
And only the undergarments of an aged desire,
I strode unconfidently towards the grand prize;
That mortals perish in their quest and desire for
Glory, do dither with pennants and rattles to
Ancient and Hallowed grounds where beasts lay in wait.
As I took my seat with nervous pose, willing that
Rivers of red would envelop my puny frame, He came
And spoke to me in tones of great sincerity.
"Why does your frail soul brave such hostility when
Had you remained back there in evertime Spring,
Your foot would be light and airy like those you worship?
"I am Alexus and have come to guide you through paces
Of great hardship and pain; Of great suffering; I do
So because there is one who loves you and has asked thus."
Being of temperate humour, I with epic haste did fumble
With words previously unknown to me and asked of my Lord,
"Who with such sincerity would wish me no harm nor ill?"
Alexus did falter in speech, as if perplexed at my ignorance
But reclaimed his poise, saying "The one who loves you
And sends me as your ferryman is known to you in spirit
But not in name. She awaits your admission and sits
Daily in prayer that your journey be swift and victorious.
Come May she entreats me to impart the knowledge you seek."
And I did weep, as a man weeps.
Through frozen storms Alexus bid me follow and, as howling dogs,
Did I witness such suffering that weeping seemed shallow.
Their myriad colours waved and sang in diametric unison
But their Gods failed them, being not true Gods but just pretenders.
It was three seasons yet one to witness the tortured souls, worshippers
Of false ability, hope and ever more surely did they stride
To the foot of the table bereft of points to make to help
With their ascension to be crowned. I fancy spotting faces I knew
Along the way, tormented by Gods who played with their Gods for sport.
No prophets ran forth to chastise the misdirected grace yet
Still, as books are, silence rang hollow in empty rooms.
Mourihno, haggered and chased by devils of red looked,
With mournful and desirous eyes, North where the rain clouds
Could not beat back the great spirit. So too did Sven and
Grant. With sorrow that was cruely spiked and barbed,
Did the Gray in the Sky box clever to pull entrails from their
Not quite passed souls. The crowded places where they claimed
Their condemnation laughed and echoed around empty fields and
Their followers, too late in their journey, did realise the
Pretenders and pretend pretenders had once more been exposed
As not Gods, as Alexus said, with every passing orbit.
I realised, like a man realises.
As May approached and salutory cries of abject pleasure did
Reverberate around a theatre of dreams, so did I recall the
purpose of my travel. I turned to my wise Lord and bade him
Tell of whom it pleased for me to arrive. His wise eyes betrayed
A hint of jest, as he cleared his throat to make the season end
In a crescendo of hitherto hidden pleasures for all men of red.
But this red of mine had been the journey and the disciples who
Sit with Alexus and feast of the just and, just as the towers in
The theatre rang with glee, so should my own tower. Alexus thus,
In Stentorian voice commanded silence for She was present though
Not yet seen, Her red blood palpable midst the throngs; Her force
Lit a small selfish hemisphere by me, with scent of angels.
"Show thyself to the world, whose passions have brought this
Journeyman through the swamps of winter and spring to find a moment,
This moment, where Gods have prevailed, lessers fallen and to
A place where only your beauty can only be seen." With speed did
Alexus retract to make way. And with breath like dew drops clinging
To mottled webs, did step forth Beatrice, the God among women;
For whom the word beauty was created. And for whom ends knew not
Either nights or days. All were quieted so as not move the web
And mar the majesty that radiated good will in my direction.
And I did swoon, like an artist swoons.
With instruments of future ages Her voice was harmony as she
Explained some; she could only tell of now and not of then and
Thus but not thence did address me directly with eyes raised.
"Traveller of the harshest roads, my Lord has answered my pleas
and for this a thousand butterflies will descend upon him as confetti.
You are here at last, yet I may only speak in tempor.
"You know me, not as Beatrice, but some wordly name. This will not
Always be so, but for now my love, you will sit with me for as long
As silver and gold grace these walls of greatness, next to your
Friends, away from our enemies; until such a time as I call you
To join me not in these grounds, but in this ground. There the
facts that so fascinate your agile mind can decay and be replaced,
With red and love, like a lover loves."
--
Stan, answer your question?
I think what I'm trying to say is "We appear to have won the league." Thank you Wigan.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 23:19 BST, by Kenny
Compare and contrast
Two teams, one goal.
I'm here to show you class difference. The following two photos were taken during our respective playtimes lunch hours.
Exhibit "A": Stan's Emporium:
Exhibit "B": Kenny's lunchtime venue:
Is it any wonder he managed to fully bitch-slap the Guardian while we were left shivering with two to go?
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 14:21 BST, by Kenny
Blue Monday
I know it's more than a little trite to do this on a blog but where else do I get to pontificate?
I find the death of Mark Speight very tragic in every meaning of the word. I've never seen him or his recently deceased girlfriend on TV and would not have known them from Adam but it seems like a mutual love of narcotics mixed with a larger dose of mutual love has done for them both within a few months.
Call me cynical but it kind of confirms my recently developed sensibilities. I'm quite happy to like people but I'm not in the market of attaching myself to anyone ever again. I think I can honestly say I put a lot in to that in the past and it didn't exactly get me very far.
Anyway, poor lad. And poor lass.
Time for Starbucks, the weekend gossip and some slog.
Later.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 09:46 BST, by Kenny
13th April 2008
Thank God it's Sunday
Wait a minute, I'm an atheist -- must think of new title quickly.
It has to be said that since my doctor uttered words to the effect that she doesn't understand how on earth I am still capable of hassling her and that by all metrics she has come across, no-one has ever come so far so fast, I've kind of set out to prove a point. Having witnessed one poor soul who died not longer after I came out of the joint and having been told by two doctors and countless other medical people that they were not sure I would be here, I kind of take a perverse pleasure in knowing that you can shoot me and I won't lie down. I may limp a little and certainly won't be running any marathons, but for now, y'all ain't got rid of me.
"Take things easy" is a recommendation that I would have loved when I was a child. Whenever I was ill as a kid, I would be told to get on with it. My brother would inevitably catch whatever lurgy I had yet would be told to take it easy and stay in bed. It's a good job I'm not a jealous type or I would have decked him there and then. Nowadays I hate that. Nothing infuriates me more than being told I'm doing too much. *I* know when I'm doing too much, so I'll be the judge on that one.
Anyway, since I got my reprieve, I've made a point of filling my time. Weekdays are easy to fill -- four hours in a car and eight hours at work. Weekends are starting to be easily filled as well. It's to the point where I get to this time on a Sunday evening and just flop. I'm not talking physically flop. I'm mentally exhausted and am fit for nothing other than a wonderfully relaxed evening of mentally low-rent TV, brews up the wazoo and whatever cake I can get my hands on.
With all this God-forsaken structure (I hate structure -- it is to enjoyment what piles are to horse-riding -- extrapolate yourselves), I'm pretty much occupied most of my waking moments. So someone please tell me why I have been asked and suddenly found myself volunteering to join the "committee" of a charitable organization?
From what I can gather, it is steeped in well-meaning people who appear to think that raising funds is done by organizing garden fetes and afternoon teas. I suspect they would blush and feel embrassed about upping the price of a cup of tea by 5p. Alarm bells Kenny.
From what I am told, the next meeting will be to assign someone to keep the books. I hope they don't look to me. In some respects what they do is pretty bloody spot on -- every penny is accounted for. This may be done out of a genuine desire to make sure the money is not misused in any way, or it may be just that every penny counts towards their goals. Either way, it will not require a supercomputer to keep the books given the sums involved. Further more, I don't think me doing it will help matters. I'm used to spec'ing up hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of kit to be bought and usually add a flamboyant contingency on top of that. My own bank account is hardly a paragon of virtuous and diligent book-keeping. So I may have to blush and look embarassed as I decline that duty. And I'm sure my time will be better spent on doing other things to bring in money not counting what we have.
I have offered to join because I believe in the cause in question quite passionately and I think it is an area that is grossly underfunded by government. How well my "business" way of looking at things will gel with the existing members is yet to be seen. I am extremely motivated to get stuck in but am kind of wary of overfacing the others with plans that may be a touch too ambitious for their modest palates. For example, when I've been sat in meetings that effectively have been decisions to aim for a lifestyle business or go for total world domination, I don't even blink before pointing out that the world is too defeatest and that the solar system has a much larger opportunity. It's just the way I'm wired. Burn, burn, burn. I recognize it as a personality flaw but I'm not really disposed to change it.
Alors, we'll see how it goes. I just need to remember to temper my enthusiasm and to not over-commit my time.
Why am I even thinking about this? It's Sunday evening. I have a pile of NCIS DVDs to watch (which obviously feature the techie goth girly that any self-respecting geek should be totally smitten with), a book to read (poetry if you must ask -- how weird that Stan has just posted about poetry and that I picked up my favorite poetry book for the first time in 15 years only last night) and enough pillows, duvets, coffee and smelly things to burn to call myself female and buy a cat. I should shut down the PC and eat choclate cake. Indeed I will.
Okay, I lied about the cat.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sun 21:02 BST, by Kenny
11th April 2008
Okay Amazon, you got me...
On my Amazon home page under my "things that might interest you Kenny" there is a section:
Bathroom Storage Bestsellers
On the face of it, there is nothing one can say however it actually asks more questions than it answers:
1) What have I bought from Amazon that could be vaguely related to bathrooms?
2) What exactly is bathroom storage? [Sorry -- a bit metaphysical for a Friday afternoon]
3) Do I actually need bathroom storage? [There -- their advertising obviously works]
Thankfully I resisted the urge to satiate all my bathroom storage needs and instead opted for a limited edition Barenaked Ladies CD and a book that I owned many moons ago that I fancy reading again. Thanks Kidder, Flippen-Floppen und Gogglebot.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 16:10 BST, by Kenny
Too caffeined to drive
Birthday cappuccinos bring derision from the crossword posse and an inability to drive.
I just went over to Amazon to see if they had the cable that I want (I know they have the book) and landed on their home page. Their spidey senses (known as segmentation data to us clever clogs) threw up a load of stuff that I might be interested in. Amongst it was a book called Lila's Child: An Inquiry Into Quality by Robert M Pirsig and another called Pisa 2003 by the same. Now I'm a huge fan of Pirsig. I first read Zen And The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance at the tender age of 16 and loved it. Then I read Lila: An Inquiry Into Morals. I have read them both mutliple times since.
Upon further reading it was established that the first title was actually a critique of the original Lila by a bunch of high-minded philosophers so I kind of went a bit cold on it.
Somehow I ended up reading some of Pirsig's quotes. I think I knew this, but he was born in Minneapolis.
My first thought was "I must tell Nski just in case I've never mentioned it" which was quickly followed by a "remember El Kenny, the wench is dead". Call it a fleeting pang before I started ploughing through other Pirsig references.
Apparently Pisa 2003 is listed as being by Pirsig. There are no reviews and I'm sure if it was really a third book I'd have heard of it by now, so I'll stay clear. Anyone know anything about it?
--
Having got off to a disastrous start on the Guardian over lunch, I called yer man of all things cryptically, triptychally and fitfully true on the old cellular communication device for a pointer. We then proceeded to batter most of the rest before the teacher rang the bell to signal end of playtime and I came back to look at Stan's answers on 15squared. The Telegraph awaits a mauling.
--
This Satnav is like a flight simulator. I'm going to black out my windows and see whether I can drive the length of the M62 on instrumentation only. In the name of science, you understand. And I want some flaps on my car, so Sandra can seductively tell me to "lower your flaps baby". Okay, that last bit is a lie but I couldn't resist typing it.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 14:09 BST, by Kenny
10th April 2008
Happy Birthday me
Don't tell the lads at work, but it's my birthday on Friday (nearly today). I swear I haven't mentioned it anywhere that I recall. I say don't tell the lads because it is convention at work to buy pizza, cakes or whatever for the whole bloody lot of them. This day last year cost me an arm, a leg and the price of a squillion overpriced breakfast croissants. I am not making that mistake again.
Since my maternal unit still thinks I'm six, she pitched up this evening with a very nice meal of duck and the whole shebang. I also got my first birthday present...a Satnav system for the car. I'm made up with it.
It's a Tomtom XL (I think) and it is cooler than hell. It has a bluetooth facility that means it can talk to your phone. Other than maybe downloading updated maps and posing that your Satnav can talk to your phone, I'm not quite sure what the bluetooth achieves. I'm sure I'll find out.
Now the really cool thing is that you can choose who gives you directions. I started off with Aussie Ken (I kid ye not) who speaks English (Australian) but he kept directing me to the fridge to look for beer. If I had followed his instructions to the letter, I would never even have found the car let alone driven.
I then switched to Mandy who speaks English (US). Two things put me off her. The first was a deal-breaker. She called roundabouts rotaries. WTF? In all my years traveling around the US, I have never heard the word rotary used in conjunction with a roundabout. Even in New England, where they do have some roundabouts and where they are about the most prone of all the regions of the US to create bloody daft words, there was ne'er a rotary mentioned. The other reason that Mandy was ditched was that I was finding her voice rather too attractive for a machine. I figure I'll keep her in reserve for when the traffic jams get too long and I'm bored.
I can't remember the name of the French lass, but she spoke in French which in itself is not too much of a problem as I speak enough to cope with directions. I kind of suspect that she deals in freaky-deaky kilometers though, and I'm not having that. So Madmoiselle whatever bit the dust too.
I'm now tuned into Sandra in English (UK) who sounds like she's swallowed the proverbial marbles. I have a sneaking suspicion that they recorded Natasha Kaplinski's wedding night and cut and pasted various words into the Tomtom to act as Sandra. She's understandable, non-provocative, uses real words and doesn't keep warning you about crocs and roos so she'll do.
Now what would be really cool is if we could produce a Northern version. Oh, yes. Emma, I may need your assistance my dear.
I also got an outdoor thermometer from my father. No-one else got it, but he knew that I would so we both sat chortling at the in joke while my mother looked even more stunned than usual. You just cannot beat knowing someone's humor so well that you know exactly what he was thinking when he bought it. The Flip-flop will get it, I guarantee.
What else? Ah yes, I have an Amazon voucher from Kidder, Das Flip-Flop and Gogglebot. I'm sure by the end of tomorrow either a video cable for the old iPod or a book will be en-route chez moi.
Right -- final offer. Someone must want to see Dolly Parton. I'll even drive if needbe. If I have to, I will go alone.
Update: It now is certainly my birthday. Ref: the above US reference to rotaries, two observations spring to mind. The first is that surely they meant rotisserie in which case I'm all for it. The second is that if you're going to use a word entirely out of context, make it comedy -- they managed it in Leeds; we have the Armley gyratory. Call me immature, but I always snigger when I hear the word gyratory. It reminds me of the Bramley gyratory which was an event in Leeds many years ago. It involved myself and another willing participant. Woosh. 'Nuff said.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 23:50 BST, by Kenny
9th April 2008
A warning
If you are on the M62 tonight, get the hell out of the way of a blue Toyota Yaris (AKA MNC) because the maniac mild-mannered gent who is driving it is on his way home to watch the football. Under no circumstances will he tolerate any delay whatsoever. Last night is *not* to be repeated.
Honestly, I don't care if you die in a horrible car crash -- move the feckin' thing before I get there.
You will recognize me as being the blue streak accompanied by a sonic boom, so pull over and the get the hell out of the way. Either that, or I'll be static on the hard shoulder smiling disingenuously at one of Her Majesty's finest as he asks me politely to cough up.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 16:36 BST, by Kenny
Green with envy
Bryony is not too enamored with flying and has asked for some tips on coping with it. I gave her my standard advice: at the start of the flight ask the flight attendant for a gin and tonic every 10 minutes until you fall asleep and then one every half hour just in case you wake up.
I emailed her and asked where she was off to. Only Germany, Hungary and China. The first two I can take or leave. The China thing however could have been nicely woven in to my April Fool had I known about it in advance. I could have claimed we were eloping as I originally planned to. That would have had you all even more fooled.
Anyway, lucky her. I forgot to mention, in my list of tips for surviving Beijing, the bit about not lighting a cigarette in public for fear of an army of Chinese special forces agents (dressed in macho powder blue track suits) surrounding her just in case there are any French protesters in the vicinity.
I think the only other words of advice would be delivered with a sage nod..."Ah yes, China. The least communist country I have ever been to."
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 15:22 BST, by Kenny
English perception
Or should I say the perception of the English?
I got a spam targeted marketing mailshot from Amazon the other day saying that because I had bought Steve's book (see left), that I may be interested in Liberal Fascism: The Secret History of the American Left, From Mussolini to the Politics of Meaning, by Jonah Goldberg. Apparently I'm a nasty right wing horror. I must remember that when I construct my epitaph.
Anyway, I forwarded that email to Steve as follows:
Hi Steve,
Hope all is well with you. I see your shooting skills are now at a level that would allow you to shoot off individual digits of your foot rather than the whole thing. Just received this from Amazon...
His response?
Good to hear from you. I think of you every day when I water my tomatoes. I think, "This plant looks awful blighty." And that reminds me of you.
Is it true the Queen has banned kitchen knives over there? Sometimes I hear things so crazy, I assume it has to be the press trying to have a sense of humor.
We are a tarnished nation. Do I look blighty? Thankfully 99% of you won't know so cannot answer.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 12:35 BST, by Kenny
8th April 2008
Grrrrrr
If you were on the M62 tonight and behaved yourself, you have my sympathy. If you drove like a prat, I hope your next shite is a hedgehog.
Four and a half hours to travel 55 miles. I swear the flight from Manchester to Chicago only takes an hour longer.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 22:51 BST, by Kenny
Kylie says 'I was misdiagnosed'
For once I concur with her words albeit not in the same context as she meant them.
Kylie impersonating a mildly
annoyed meerkat, yesterday.
Apparently the evil midget is alleging that she was mis-diagnosed while undergoing some medical hoopla -- I couldn't read any further for worrying about my stomach being so bored it may want to dispose of the divine lunchtime donut. I know she's had a rough time of it and that, because she is Kylie and mega-rich, much has been made of it. The media seem to only notice breast cancer if you're rich and famous, or rich and famous, and evil and a midget.
Why do I have such a compulsive hatred of her? Are there drugs you can take to calm homicidal feelings towards poison dwarfs?
That's it. If I'm surfing the web writing clever technical gubbins, I'll need to bust out the Dolly Parton to drown out my compadre's damned tinny Minogue tunes from across the desk.
If I have the energy when I get home, I might tell you a secret, but don't hold your breath.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 13:53 BST, by Kenny
7th April 2008
Ahem...
Not that you will have forgotten, but it's my birthday this Friday. Anyone wanting to buy my unending love and devotion (that does not include your mother-in-law Grom) can send me prepaid Starbucks cards. That way, every time I head on over for my caffeine IV, you'll know I'll be sending kind thoughts your way.
BTW, what? No takers for Dolly Parton at all? Jesus, you people have no taste. I once flew all the way to Chicago for a Tori Amos gig and you people won't drive for a couple of hours. Sheesh, you just can't get the staff anymore.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 12:49 BST, by Kenny
6th April 2008
Oh God, hold me back
I've been assimilated. The iPod has already pegged me as being a Dolly parton fan and by some kind of mental manipulation algorithm has pointed me to the fact that there are Dolly Parton tickets left for June 28th at MEN. Are you with me?
I'm tempted to buy two tickets on a wing and a prayer that I can find a suitably perverse being who wants to accompany me.
I promise I'll shut up for the day now.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sun 18:12 BST, by Kenny
Sound
I do exist. It's not a podcast in the true sense of the word, but it will do...
And as I was typing this, the old cell phone went. For once, I answered a private number. It was only Rob from th'Oddies inviting me to go to watch Pink Floyd tonight. Someone dropped out and they had a ticket.
I'm gutted I had to turn it down.
Here, have a giggle to yourselves while I weep tears. If only it hadn't been a school night...
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sun 17:12 BST, by Kenny
While I'm outing myself...
...I'll give you a groan moment.
After I went to McDonalds yesterday, I went to do my "make Kenny feel good" pennance. There's a lass who works there every now and again who I have become very fond of. Whenever we meet up we have a good old gas about all sorts (mostly her work, my work and Man Utd -- what more could I ask for?). Yesterday, however, something in my filter mechanism went a tad astray -- probably too many endorphins from the iPod. The conversation went something along the lines of:
E: Hey K -- how are you?
K: Ah, middling to shite. The traffic was an absolute bitch getting here but now that I'm here, the day's looking much better thanks to seeing you.
E: Was that a large amount of sarcasm that you just hurled at me?
K: Actually no. The traffic really was a bitch and I said the rest in a manner so as not to sound like it was as genuine as I meant it, to save us both from...blush...ing...
Awkward five seconds of stunned silence as I realise what I have just said and E processes my words, trying to discern whether or not it was a not-so-veiled compliment or I was taking the piss.
E (realising that I was being honest): Oh right, I see. Erm, you can speak English you know.
K: I prefer not to because when I do, I don't have the luxury of a delete key or the ability to backtrack quickly.
E: Geek. Want to know much I've won on Man Utd in the past few weeks?
K: Please. Anything to move quickly on.
E: Nearly £100.
K: Sweet.
E: Sweet. Shall we start again?
K: We talking rerun or looking at declaring a false start?
E: Up to you.
K: Traffic was a bitch but I was due to meet someone who could probably raise the mood a little so the world's not too bad. Here, want to gaze adoringly at my iPod?
E: Geek. Cowardly geek. Snigger...
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sun 13:54 BST, by Kenny
In which Kenny outs himself
Heterotechnicality is for wimps.
I'm outing myself. Picture the scene; broad white deadly streaks of sharp white light filter through the blinds creating an Andy Warhol-like view of a dark closet. The closet door swings open and out steps Kenny. But wait. What's that in his hand? Camera zooms in.
What the hell? Is that an Apple logo? Mary, mother of Jesus H Godson, it cannot be. Where are the horses of the apolcalypse and their much maligned jockeys?
Kenny has an iPod Touch in his hand.
It is true mes amis. Kenny has been converted to the ways of the bitechnical. Long has he been faithful to the pursuit of heterotechnicality in the form of his beloved Unix and Linux while tolerating the red-headed step-child that is Windows. But the clouds have cleared and here he is wearing a designer primary-colored outfit waving a beautifully camp iPod.
To say that I am gobsmacked by Apple's iPod Touch is an understatement. From the moment you open the box to your first interaction with it, it's like being smothered in whipped cream and having it sensously licked off your parts. I'm not joking. I cannot remember ever being so bowled over by a gadget. I swear I literally gasped as I started messing around with it.
Within an hour, I had it hooked into my wireless network with WAP2 authentication, all my email accounts set up, bookmarks imported, all my digital music copied across.
The software is nothing to enthuse about really apart from iTunes. I know; I'm late to the party, but hell is that sweet or what? I typed in the most obscure stuff you could think of and bang, there it all was for just 79p per track.
The UI is to die for though. I can quite honestly say that it is beyond gorgeous. The display is crisper than anything I have ever seen and the fonts are Apple magic. The scroll and zoom mechanisms are dizzingly easy to use. Everything about it is so well thought out and engineered.
Having had my paws on it for less than 24 hours, I was sat in McDonalds in Eccles checking the football scores on their WiFi connection. I used to use my phone to do that and it took forever while I faffed around with predictive text etc. From switching it on to having the scores on screen was under 30 seconds.
Unless you write code, play games or have graphically intensive work to do, what the hell is the point of a PC now? You can have the best designed piece of kit the world has ever produced sat in your pocket 24x7.
Lord knows what other software is out there for it. I shudder to think. All I need now is something that will rip DVDs to whatever MPG4 or whatever and I'm *so* set.
As I have been emailing W (from my iPod of course, which has annoyed him immensely), if you only do one thing today, you should get one of these babies.
Never let it be said that I cannot change my ways. If Macbooks are anywhere near as sexy as this thing, I'm a convert and will become homotechnical.
Fellow iPod Touch owners, we should start a national day of celebration. We could call it "iPod Touch things pride day" and wave rainbows and designer flags, have KD Lang perform and fuss about complementary colors. Can't think where I got that idea from at all...
Unless you've seen one of these you'll not be able to understand that no-one can adequately describe how groin-stirringly fab they are. Go get a demo...you will not regret it.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sun 11:18 GMT, by Kenny
4th April 2008
Man love
I am so, so in love. Nothing will ever come between me and this piece of gorgeousness. I'm talking about my new toy of course not some floozy I met while I was playing with my new toy.
Expect a rave review soon.
This post has been brought to you from my bed.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 23:48 GMT, by Kenny
New toy
I have a new toy arriving today. It will be waiting for me when I get home and I'm literally like a big kid. I'm so excited that I may even have to tape NCIS and miss the Gothy techie love of my life. If I were you, I wouldn't expect anything that is not techie over the weekend. Actually, it may be the case that you should expect nothing at all. I have a new toy and a lot of commitments, most of them to myself and inanimate gadgets (no sex jokes please -- I get enough of those at work -- in fact, had I said that out loud here, I would be the subject of abuse for the rest of the day).
One thing that I *might* do is have a mess with a podcast. I'm thinking I might take W's dictionary and define some of the more popular Northern vernacular and other gubbins, together with an audio companion so you have no excuse for not "fradgin' proper".
Whatever happens, I'm sure you'll learn something completely useless.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 13:00 GMT, by Kenny
3rd April 2008
Koreas trade war of words...
From Al Beeb, we are told that the Koreans have yet another handbag incident going on behind the bikesheds (no bottles lads!):
On Wednesday, South Korea's Defence Ministry sent a statement to North Korea asking it to stop "slander" and activities that would disrupt the stability of the Korean peninsula.
Yonhap news agency says that in response, a North Korean general sent a statement threatening unspecified "military countermeasures".
He also dismissed South Korea's statement as "shenanigans", the agency said.
Is there really a Korean word that literally translates as shenanigans or did he say this in English? I shall email my South Korean contact in Seoul (Mr Park, who is real -- there is a photo of him on here somewhere) to find out. I'm sure you're all as excited about this as I am.
I wonder how you go about saying "I take your shenanigans sir, and raise you a _______."
Where do you go as a diplomat to escalate the words? My suggestions would be:
-- "I'll raise you a bushel and a Pole you pompous prig"
-- "Up with this malarkey I will not put -- draw your nuke sir."
-- "Last one to the Chinese border is a big fat capitalist."
-- "Bugger it Northy, break out the Soju and lets drink to re-unification. Invite the Jongy-il-meister over and we'll do some Soju bongs."
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 09:40 GMT, by Kenny
2nd April 2008
Mea culpa
My source on the ground in DC (is it DC nowadays or still upstate NY? -- you never can tell with spies like her), Tasha, has called me a dork and has banished me to some inner ring for yesterday's cruel trick. Being one of the few people I know who have actually read Dante's Divine Comedy, I'd like to register a place in one of the inner rings (where all the interesting people must be) and away from the Styx (on account of my lack-lustre swimming ability).
Tasha has kindly failed to correct my egregious spelling errors yet still found time to give me some dating advice.
To all those who fell for it, I'm shocked that you all either think I am intellectually capable of an Einstein-like breakthrough in physics or that you expect such utter bare-faced lying from me. Okay, I guess Kenny upping and offing to China is not beyond the realms of possibility and the background to the problem I allegedly solved is scientifically accurate, but really...
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 08:22 GMT, by Kenny
1st April 2008
Rebranding required
The excitement has been killing me. I've been dying to allude to this for a few weeks now but have resisted the urge. You know when you *really* think that you might be on to something but kind of put it on the back burner because you think thousands of people must have had the same idea the world over so you must be wrong? Well apparently I might be right. I know. I have long joked that you lot should all chant it as your mantra that "Kenny is right"; little did I know it could be true. Of course, had I believed that mantra, then it would certainly be logically correct to find out that I am. I know; the logic confuses me.
You know how I used to work in the electronics industry? More specifically in the area of PCB assembly? Well, at the time we toyed with the idea of combining a couple of technologies from different areas that would help in the production of photonics equipment. I spent a good few months playing around with the kit and developed a bit of an interest in photonics, which was further stimulated when I spent some time visiting manufacturing plants around the US and Europe.
I'm no use at theoretical learning. I'm more of a "hands on, work it out" kind of chap so I only learned about how all the fiber communications technology worked during my stint messing around watching optical tranceivers being made.
Long time sufferers will know I did a stint in China back in the day. During that trip, I happened to meet a chap called Professor Songfeng from Shenzhen University's physics department. He stumbled across our booth at a trade show. We had a lively chat about photonics and he kind of gave me a potted story about the limitations of optical communications. The fact is that the biggest problem with optical signals is that you cannot amplify them optically. They need to be converted back to being a digital electrical signal to be amplified before being converted back to light and relayed further down their channel.
I took that on board and have been chewing on it since.
I started off asking some seriously daft questions about basic photonics and gradually built up a bit of knowledge, which always makes Kenny a dangerous beast. And then I had the germ of an idea (while on a train from Piccadilly to York) about how you might optically amplify a signal. Since then, I've emailed back and forth with Professor Songfeng, kind of fleshing out whether it might be possible or not.
Cut to the chase: he's convinced that it's a definite maybe. So much so that I have been invited to join his research team at the University of Shenzhen for two years to further help develop the concept.
So, dear peeps, as of about six weeks time, I'll once again be departing these fair shores on another little "WTF is Kenny playing at" adventure.
I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't nervous, but what the hell. You only live once and it's a pretty bloody top thing to put on your CV. The Prof reckons we should have a paper available for publication by this time next year...kerching. I am, as you can imagine though, bloody excited. As far as I'm concerned, the more of the world you see, the better rounded a human being you become -- so this is another page to read and learn from. It also means I'll probably have shit loads of interesting stuff to blog about as I learn the whats, whys and WTFs of being an Englishman in China. Gulp.
Now I'll need to dig out my Chinese language book, make sure I haven't dropped a proverbial x, and rebrand Elboggo. "Shenzhen Ken" anyone?
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 09:38 GMT, by Kenny