Author Archives: HippieBoy

Quick Hits

I’m Better Than You!

When I was a kid, “He knows martial arts” was impressive. When I was a teen I wasn’t impressed unless it was, “He’s a black belt in Okidoki.” I still have no real grasp of what the belt system is, but having a black belt must be impressive by the way people talked about it. Then somewhere along the line “degrees” were added. I’m no longer impressed by someone just having a black belt in Déja Fu*, but now they have to be a “fifteenth degree black belt” in order to be impressive. Again, I have no idea what the degrees really mean, but throughout my life the numbers I hear seem to be getting larger, so bigger must be better.

This trend seems to be happening in almost all aspects of life… We (and by “we” I mean “me”) demand to be impressed, awed by everything. I can’t just be impressed by a car, it has to have words like, “454” and “big block” and “hemi’ attached to it – as if I know what those words mean… (Well, I do, but you know what I’m getting at.)

The speedlight I bought for my camera is a YN565EX. Seriously, why the numbers? They’re made up – they don’t MEAN anything. And “EX?” There’s only one version of the 565, so why put the EX on the back? I guess to make it sound impressive…

*The martial arts Okidoki and Déja Fu belong to Terry Pratchett’s “Diskworld” series. Okidoki was described as “nothing really but a bunch of bunny hops,” and Déja Fu as “The feeling you’ve been kicked in the head before.” 

I kinda feel bad for them…

…but it is kinda funny.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JYXCC9o1zuw

 

Can someone tell me…

…why we need to interfere with Crimea’s decision to merge with Russia? It’s not like Vladimir Putin sent in 500,000 troops to take over Crimea – the Crimeans themselves held an election and opted to break away from Ukraine. This really isn’t our business.

Look at it this way. Pretend the US got embroiled in a political upheaval. Congress has been dissolved, people kicked the President out of office, there is no government, but there is economic chaos happening throughout the land. The Maine state legislature gets together and decides, “Hey, we really have more in common with Canada than we do with the US. Most of us have family there, we all speak Canadian already, and we generally identify more with New Brunswick than New Hampshire. Let’s let the US have its revolution, we’ll just quietly join Canada if they want us.” The people of Maine voted 95% to join Canada, the Canadian Prime Minister said, “Sure, sound good, eh.” If that scenario would play out – how would we feel if, say, Russia were to step in and say, “No, you can’t do that, and if you do, we’ll invade.” Seriously…

 

I like these people

This could change disaster relief for the better!

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Cookies

I’m in a bit of a funk. It’s been a long, dry winter, money is going out faster than I can bring it in, and Beloved Wifey broke her foot. If anyone needs me, I’ll be in the other room baking cookies*. I find that when I’m in a funk it helps to do something like that.

*It should be noted that “baking cookies” isn’t quite the right term, as there’s no actual baking in this recipe. It’s super-easy. I’ll wait while you go get a pencil to write this down. Okay, ready? You’ll love this. You’ll need a package of Girl Scout Thin Mints, a bowl of peanut butter, and some Nestle’s Quick. One by one dip the Thin Mints into the peanut butter, then coat them with the chocolate powder. IMPORTANT – These cookies can go bad rather quickly, so it’s highly recommended that you eat them immediately. In fact, don’t even set the cookies down, just dip, sprinkle, eat. Dip sprinkle eat. Dip sprinkle eat. 

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Whammo!

I positively, absolutely HATE “ambush-ware,” (a term I just made up).

Okay, I’m working on a project for a friend. He needs some video clips converted to a certain format, and a DVD made. A few years ago I’d take a day or two and use Adobe’s neato software to put together a custom animated DVD menu in After Effects, process the audio in Audition, put everything together in Premiere Pro, then author the final DVD in Encore. Except Adobe quit supporting Encore, the software that actually creates the files necessary for a DVD – they say. “The trend in the video and broadcast industry is moving away from physical media distribution. The future is in cloud and streaming content. Therefore we are focusing more on products that deliver to streaming services. For example, Adobe Media Encoder and Adobe Premiere Pro CC include a new feature allowing users to create iPad-ready video with QuickTime chapter markers.”

Okay, I can go back and download an older version of Encore that may or may not work properly, but I don’t really have time for that. So I turn to my old standby, iDVD. I know Apple stopped providing iDVD a few years ago for the same reasons Adobe stopped selling Encore – people tend to look at video online now rather than on DVDs, but I managed to keep an old copy, and it works fine… Except, well poop. Okay, it WORKED fine, now it doesn’t. And Apple doesn’t support the software any more.

Okay, I just need to find a way to author my friend’s DVD. I work with video every single day, but it’s all online stuff. I’ve not burned a “you need to put this disk in a DVD player” kind of DVD in years.

A quick search online gave me a lead to some free software that looks like an iDVD clone of sorts. Swell, I don’t have much time, I’ll just download that quick, burn the disk and be on my way. It’s free, so I expected it to be ad-supported – but I was pleasantly surprised when I opened the software to find that it wasn’t all cluttered with ads and it worked just fine. It’s a very simple program, I figured the company released it to showcase their more advanced stuff. I was reasonably impressed. It took me an hour to get everything all figured out and ready to go, and within another half an hour it had rendered the files and burned a disk. I was giddy with glee. Giddy.

Until I looked at the final product.

There’s a watermark. Not just a little logo in the corner, but a HUGE watermark across the entire screen that makes the entire disk unusable. Turns out that you need to pay $50 for the “pro” level of the software to get rid of the watermark.

Supercrud. This has happened to me before, and I should have seen it coming. Ambush-ware. “Okay, you’ve spent a considerable amount of time downloading the software, learning how to use it, getting your project to look exactly right – NOW we’re going to hold you hostage for money. If you don’t pay us, all that time has been wasted.” Back to their website. Yep, the software is clearly labeled “FREE.” Now I’m getting angry. No, I shall not pay fifty bucks for your software, dammit. I’ll find another way to do this…

Pushy, sneaky sales tactics will make me walk away every time. Every. Time.

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An Interesting Sort of Day

It’s been an interesting day.

So far, in addition to my regular work, I’ve fixed my chainsaw, repaired the dog’s invisible fence (still gotta bury about 450 feet of wire in a month or so when the ground thaws), and got my updated version of QuickBooks up and running. (I’m all excited – someone buy something from me quick! I want to send out an invoice RIGHT NOW. New software makes me all tingly.)

Hooray for gettin’ stuff done!

Now I gotta go stake down parts of the fence and get some brush cleared before sundown. (The guy who farms the land adjoining our acreage commented that he was going to swing by sometime with a chainsaw and take care of the branches that were hanging over the fence into his field. I almost wept. I puffy-heart trees! I hug them! So I’m running out there whenever I can to trim the trees the way I want them trimmed in hopes that he’ll kinda leave them alone…) Then we’re back to our regularly scheduled program!

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Wood Chipper

SOLD

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When I bought this unit I had high hopes and grand aspirations for gleefully turning my brush pile into beautiful, glowing mulch to put around some trees I planted last year. As I giddily drove home to my acreage with this fine chipper in the back of my truck I knew beyond a doubt this machine was going to be a life-altering purchase of vast import. Future generations would look back on this day with reverence as The Day Hippie Got a Chipper and Changed the World. Also I couldn’t help but notice that I was wearing plaid in my wood chipping daydreams. And I had a better beard. Manly, I was. Manly.

I pulled up to my place and backed my truck up to the brush pile. I briefly considered going inside to find a flannel shirt and some suspenders, but I was too eager to play with my new toy. The first thing I noticed is that it seemed to have gained roughly 150 pounds during the trip home. I quickly realized there was no way I was gonna get that thing out of my truck by just picking it up. Hmmm. Manly.

I backed my truck down in the ditch – my thought being that would get the tailgate much closer to the ground and I could simply wheel the chipper out. Instead of hoisting the thing about three and a half feet down I could just lower it down about six inches this way and be on my merry way towards wood chipping nirvana. No problem! This is going to be easy-peasy. No sooner said than done. I’ll just lower it down right here…

So once I got back from the chiropractor, my first action was to kick the spiteful machine right in the tire. I was able to wheel it up out of the ditch and over to the woodpile without further insult to my sacroiliac, grumbling the whole way. Stupid chipper. I paused for a breath, looked at the woodpile, looked at the chipper.

Okay, let’s do this.

I checked the oil and gas, set the choke and throttle, kicked the clutch bar into position, and yanked the beasty to life. Second pull and it was happily chugging away. Things were looking up! I looked at the woodpile and estimated it’d take about twenty minutes to chip it all. Okay… I kicked the clutch bar into the “turn it on” position and grabbed a branch.

This may be the point in the narrative where I admit that I’ve never used a chipper/shredder before. I’ve never even really seen anyone else use one, to be honest. So…

Okay, do I put the branch in the top? Or into the chute doohicky? I’ll go with the top. Okay. Glancing around to make sure none of my neighbors were around, I rather gingerly edged closer to the chipper and kinda sorta half-tossed the branch into the hopper at the top of the machine. Nothing happened. The branch just sat there. I eased closer again, grabbed the top of the branch and kinda jiggled it a

HOLY CRAP! Yowza! I was NOT ready for that! Oh. My. Lord.

I swear a demon reached up out of the chipper, grabbed the branch, and yanked it down into it’s gaping maw with a half second “ZZZXXXKSKKZRRRRRRRRR” – leaving me standing there, stunned, still holding a leaf, sawdust gently swirling in the air…

What the…? Seriously? Did that just happen? I grabbed another branch and eased it into the hopper, then pushed it further in with another branch. “GRRRIZZZZZINK!” The chipper grabbed the branch and devoured it in a heartbeat, leaving naught but a teaspoon of sawdust and an angry echo reverberating through the hills. I snuck around to the other side of the chipper, kicked the clutch bar back out, and very trepidatiously turned the machine off. A wisp of smoke came out of the chute leaving the slightest smell of burning souls in the air.

I’ve heard animals can smell fear. I’m positive if this thing were alive it would have smelled plenty of fear. And possibly a little pee as well.

Pale, shaking, I wheeled the chipper into my garage, where it’s sat ever since. I find myself edging around it whenever I’m in the garage, giving the machine a good six or eight feet of room. It scares me.

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Dear Apple…

Dear Apple Computers:

I really enjoy your products. I have several Macs that I use for work, an iPad and an iPhone for my business, and a couple little tiny iPods. I’ve used Macs on a daily basis since like 1992. Yay!

The only fly in the ointment is iTunes.

Here are the things I want in a music player: The ability to play music, and the ability to buy new music. While I’m sure both of those things can, indeed, be done with iTunes, I’ll be blessed if I can figure out how…

It used to be simple. I’d click on iTunes, click “Play” and music would play. But now I have to choose between Music, Movies, TV Shows, podcasts, Audiobooks, Books, or Apps. Seriously – it’s iTUNES – I want music. If I wanna watch TV I’ll, you know, turn on my TV. Put that other stuff in a different program and give me my Monkees.

It’s worse yet on my iPhone. Every now and then I’ll get all ambitious, find my headphones, and will plug ’em into my earholes to listen to some happy happy music… Yay! But, but… where’s my songs? I gotta push this button, then I have to choose… Wait, that’s not right. Okay, I’ll push… no… Crap, where’s my playlist of cool crap? No, that’s not it.

To be fair, one thing I really DO like is your “Radio” option. It’s like Pandora, only you can go back and see what songs you listened to half an hour ago. There’s an option to buy them, too, which I would really, really, really enjoy – except you make my put my password in every time I wanna buy my song. And you don’t let me have a simple password; it’s gotta have twelve characters, at least one capital letter, a number, and a symbol. Please, I dare you, enter GoatScrotumSo0p92!! [not my real password mind you] when you’re barreling through the pasture on your four-wheeler with a load of wood in January with thick-@ss gloves on… And if you try it three times and misspell something, you reset the password. Please, I just wanna click on “Buy Me” and, you know, buy the song! I’d have bought about twenty bucks worth of music today if I didn’t have to try to puzzle out the whole password thing…

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Dumb Dog…

Years ago, for no apparent reason, I downloaded a version of the Blue Danube Waltz, with a twist. Get the song in your head… Here, this will help.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NlFBWo-Cbz8

Okay, now imagine it was being sung by cats. “Meow meow meow meow meow… Mew mew, mew mew.”

It was a silly thing to download, but I was in a silly mood, lo those many years ago when things such as singing cats were still deemed kinda funny.

Anyway… So today it popped up on my computer’s random iTunes rotation and started playing. Superpup Buttercup was sleeping in the other room, but as soon as she heard the cats she woke up and ran into my office. She looked at my computer’s speakers, she looked at me, back to the speakers, she walked under the desk and looked around, and was generally perplexed the whole time. “Papa, I SWEAR I hear cats! Where are they?” I was smiling indulgently, laughing a bit at what simple creatures dogs are. How silly that Buttercup thought there may be a real cat in my office! Ha!

About then the next song started. The kick drum started the song, “thump thump thump thump.” Without thought I got up to go answer the door…

I swear Buttercup laughed out loud at me.

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Google Street View image

It’s the little things…

Earlier this week I traveled to Des Moines for a photo shoot, a happy 230 mile trip. As is normal, I chose to stop at Missouri Valley, Iowa – a natural “halfway” point – for gas. I pulled in the Phillips 66 station just off the Interstate and pulled up to the nearest pump. It was about ten degrees that day with a nasty wind. I hopped out of the car, cursed the weather, opened my gas tank, grabbed the nozzle, and saw, “Prepay Only” on the screen.

If you own a gas station, please keep in mind that “Prepay Only” means two things.

  1. You’re standing in a high crime area.
  2. We don’t trust you.

Neither of those things makes me very eager to spend my money at your store.

Regardless I trotted inside, shivering, to prepay. The 12-year-old kid behind the counter was busy ringing up the customers in front of me, so I looked at the time and started getting antsy – waiting is NOT my forté. When it was my turn at the register, the kid behind the counter completely ignored me for about thirty seconds, long enough for me to stare holes in his head as he gawked at his phone (or whatever he was doing). Just as I was turning to leave, he said, “Oh, did you need something?” (No, I just drove to a gas station a hundred miles from home so I could come in here and gaze at your magnificence.)

“Yeah, I’d like to fill up, but the pump says ‘Prepay Only.’ How does that work?”

“Just tell me how many gallons you want,” replied the kid.

“I have no idea – I’d like to fill the tank.”

“Just tell me how much gas you want,” he repeated.

“How do I know how much it will take to fill it up?” I asked, getting edgy.

“Haven’t you ever filled up your car before?” Okay, now you’re getting snotty.

“No. It’s a rental,” I lied. “I’ll just go to the station across the street,” I truthed. “Thanks.”

I’ll probably never stop at a Phillips station again. I hate those kinds of confrontations. “Prepay Only” may be a common thing in cities, but hereabouts it’s an insult. I choose to pay at the pump because I don’t like interacting with strangers. I don’t know if I’m just shy, or if I’m introverted, but I’ll go to ridiculous lengths to avoid talking to folks on the phone or going into stores where I have to talk to people. So the whole thing lefty me angry and upset.

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