How to Stifle Creativity

This guide was NOT inspired by “How to Argue like an Idiot” guide. THAT guide is designed to destroy thinking of any and all types. This one targets only creative thought.

“One of the serious problems in planning the fight against American doctrine, is that the Americans do not read their manuals, nor do they feel any obligation to follow their doctrine…”
– From a Soviet Junior Lt’s Notebook

Why Discourage Creativity at Work? The new economy demands it. Global competition and world wide technological stagnancy in fields such as automotive and medicine have left many of us scrambling. If your business is a moneymaker, and profitable, STATUS QUO is the order of the day. DO NOT INNOVATE. STICK WITH WHAT WORKS! After all, things like toilet paper and umbrellas have not changed significantly in thousands of years, and they work great! If people really had a voracious appetite for ideas and innovation , they would change things themselves, not wait for you to do it!
Punish Failure. If anyone dares to try something risky or creative and fails, be sure to let them know you “told them so.” Make them regret it for the rest of their days there, which should be few, because you need to use them to set an example. The biggest success stories result from the one guy that knew absolutely what he was doing and was a super genius without compare. Remember Edison and the light bulb?
Eliminate Ambiguity. Something either works, or doesn’t. You. Are. The. Boss. Stamp out uncertainty. If you think it won’t work, it probably won’t. Why try if failure is even a possibility? FEAR FAILURE! Straight A students didn’t get straight ‘A’s because they were smart, they got them because they were terrified of failure!
Interrupt your Inferiors and pull them away from what they are doing without asking. Don’t ever let them build up enough steam to do anything worthwhile that might improve working conditions or threaten your job.  Periodically, even the best employees begin to work up come creative mind-flow which must be disrupted. Preferably, wait until you see them furiously intent on what they are doing. If they are working with power tools, so much the better because there is nothing better than when the “Days Without An Incident” sign reads “0”. Remember, productivity decreases by as much as 40% when people “multitask”, and if people are 100% productive then that is less productivity for you to steal.
Don’t Pay Attention to Others when they say things you don’t understand. How dare someone have an idea in your magnificent presence? When someone comes to you with an idea, or you hear an idea, interrupt them with an idea of your own, yawn, grimace, frown, sneer, look at your email, look at your blackberry, start a side conversation, do ANYTHING but pay attention to them. And DON’T make eye contact! It will only encourage their rambling. Be sure to write their idea down, though, so that you can claim it as your own later on.
Censor EVERYTHING. Stifle the creative juices by monitoring employee communications. Correct employees on everything from grammar to punctuation. If they send a funny email out to the entire company that is relevant, pertinent, and thought provoking, call them into your office and chew them out. “’Everyone’ is for HR only!” Make sure they understand that all of their ideas must come from you first. The added benefit to this is that if you run across an idea that actually has merit, you can take it.
Sleep During Meetings. If you don’t hear the idea happen, then it didn’t. Long, unnecessary meetings, full of boring graphs and charts that berate and belittle every department, including your own, are fantastic sleep induction devices.
Create Rules and Boundaries. People are supposed to toe the line, not cross it! Punish violators severely. Promote at least 50% of your staff to some sort of management responsibility so that the rules may be enforced most effectively. Post inspiration slogans on the wall like these time honored axioms:
• “Stay Within The Lines”
• “Follow Procedures!”
• “Watch the Bottom Line”,
• “Quarterly Profits are not everything, they are the ONLY thing!”
Remember, a demoralized staff is a hard working, obedient staff.
Don’t Ask Questions. People ask questions when they are interested in something. You can’t maintain conformity and status quo if things are being questioned. Things are going just fine the way they are. Why mess with your perfect world?
Happiness is the Enemy. Foolishness, silliness, storytelling, imagination, etc… these are all things that distract from productivity. Nip them in the bud on sight. Begin your correction of the wayward employee with phrases like :
• “Well THAT won’t work.” (or any variety of “it can’t be done”)
• “Let me tell you what we’re not going to do…”
• “Be Serious”
• “Think before you speak!”
• “Sit down and shutup.”
• Get back in your box?”
• “Who let you off your leash?”
• “We don’t do that here.”
• “Wipe that smile off your face! If you are smiling, you aren’t working!”
Procedures Must be Followed. In the military, there is an entire command of officers and non-com’s who exist for the sole purpose of approving any changes to procedures. It takes months, if not years, to change even a simple procedure. And look at how successful they are! In some countries, they are the ruling body! Establishing a rigid command structure will guarantee your corporation a place in the annals of history.

Some day, I will release a book that is a tell-all about all the shitty bosses I have been plagued with in my life.  For now, though, this will have to do.

P.S. If you have read this far and don’t realize it is satire, then you just might be a shitty boss.  Good luck with that.

Remotely viewing the Internet activity on another computer

As long as you have an account on the computer, and the computer is linux or Mac (unix), and it is an admin account, this is what you can do:

First, you will need to be on the computer and enable remote access. On a mac, it is not enabled by default.

STEP 1 : Enable Remote Login on subject computer

Hit Splat (⌘) -spacebar, type ‘terminal’, and hit enter.  A bash shell will open.  Welcome to command line 🙂  Enter the following command (the ‘>’ denotes a prompt.  Don’t type that):

> systemsetup -setremotelogin on


STEP 2 : Figure out its IP address

While you are in terminal, get the IP address:

> ifconfig | grep ‘inet ‘

This will get you the IP address of the machine.  It’s not  It’s the other one 🙂

If it changes later, from your terminal window on your own mac you can scan the network and find it with this:

> sudo nmap -sP

NOTE: might not be your IP address range.  Whatever the IP address is that you located earlier, change this so it’s right.  

STEP 3 : Access the subject computer remotely

Now, from the terminal window on your mac, open a shell to the other mac, the one you are surveilling, using the ipAddress that you discovered in step 2:

> ssh yourUserNameOnOtherMachine@ipAddress

Next you will be asked for a password.  It won’t see the usual Password: •••••••• where a bullet appears with each keystroke.  You’ll just see Password:•  But don’t worry, your keys strokes are going in.


Now that you are connected, there are a few interesting things you can do.  When it comes to the tcpdump command, these commands are simplistic and just the tip of the iceberg of what it can do.

DNS Requests

This command will get you DNS calls.  Whenever the subject opens a new page or browses to a new website, you will see stuff here:

> tcpdump -vvv -s 0 -l -n port 53

control (^) – c to quit


HTTPS Requests

This one will get all HTTPS headers so you can see what websites are being accessed, as they are accessed, and basically every request sent out (somewhat noise).  Since it is HTTPS, you won’t be able to see the exact request, you’ll only see the site being accessed.  Google and Youtube properties all look like they are from

> sudo tcpdump dst port 443

HTTP Requests

> sudo tcpdump dst port 80

You can open multiple windows and run both.  

Good luck, and don’t forget:  accessing a system that you neither have permission to access nor own is ILLEGAL.  Spy on your SO at your own risk. I won’t go into the morality of spying on your children or employees.  It’s too murky and really depends on the situation.

Of cranks and origins and things

Questions to ask your kids:

1. What is a “dial tone”?
2. What is a “busy signal”?
3. In cars, why do we say “crank the car window down”? why do we use the word “crank”? maybe you use the word “roll?”
4. What does it mean to “tape” something, as in, a video?
5. When you “turn the heat up” it means to make it hotter, but when we say, “turn the AC down,” what does it mean? (hint: different things to different people)
7. What if we say “crank the AC up?” Does that mean, “make it colder?”
8. Why do we say “turn down” the TV? does anyone have a TV that has anything on it that turns?, it’s regional)
I wonder how many questions my dad could ask me like this, that I wouldn’t know the answer to…

Why I Ate my Pedometer

by scorellis

For telling bold lies
About late night rides
With savage, fast paces
Under blackened skies,

For midnight train chases,
And closing gate races
With swift tailed birds
And their feathery embraces:

For diving at lights
And rude jogger fights,
For staying out late
Most all of the nights,

For the sprayed up muck,
And a well pointed buck,
And for making me wear it,
even when I ….

For racing trains,
Through wooded lanes,
For pacing games
And making me take Main

And for all my mirth,
(for what it’s worth)
That extra mile to Kenilworth:

And for the perpetual ringing
And distant singing
of the crashing gate bell,
And its drifting dinging,

And for tricking me
Into accidentally killing
A 13 striped ground squirrel,
And a toad:

For making me dance,
For every missed chance,
And going knee to knee
In a standing stance,

For each walking meeting,
And cold trick-or-treating,
For each meter I cursed
And this poem, so over-versed:

For angry skunks,
a chattering chipmunk,
And that girl on the path
Lugging her bright red trunk

Through 40 miles of tight knit land;
For every blasting grain of sand
In November’s cutting gusts,
And wintery cold demand,

Strung with slow dismember,
so far I won’t remember
To watch for stray car doors,
Or the fallen, stray timber:

And lastly (finally)
For white retrievers off leashes,
And sand blasting beaches
And elevator races to
Manadnock’s stairway reaches,

For two twisting winds
Dressed like big leafy twins
Bullies, they knocked
Me down for my sins,

And finally (really this time)
For every kilometer
That I wore my bike seat
Like an angry thermometer.

The Explorers

The hazy morning sunlight filtered through the rip in the cheap hotel curtains. It stared at the vanity, reflecting from the mirror to the lamp across the room. The sun was always low in this winter sky and as the beam of light slowly traced a reflective path across the mirror, a misshapen mass of lumps and bumps under the covers rolled over and snored loudly.

Outside, hover-jet taxis whisked past, tearing up the virgin plains, whipping around new construction sites. Workers vibrated their many antennae at the taxis and continued to turn and shape the minerals of the ground in the way the Explorers had taught them. The beam of light gained intensity as the sun rose higher.

Living above ground was more comfortable, more cost efficient, more convenient, taught the Explorers. Better to cultivate, propagate, invigorate the land. “They break our way of life like they break fast: Without a thought,” leading Yibishar complained.

The beam of light reflected across the room to the television (an ancient device, but one which would whet the Yibisharistis appetites) before working its way across the plain white adobe wall, really a textured, virtually unbreakable ceramic derived from minerals present in the indigenous soils.

The phone began to ring and the sunbeam worked its way across the width of the bed. The lump in the bed groaned, rolled over and reached for the phone. He opened up his eyes and groaned as the light hit them. Momentarily blinded, he knocked the phone off its rest and yowled. He looked around. His vision was blurry, but he knew this hotel room. He didn’t quite recall how he’d arrived in it, but he knew it. He shook his head. He had a vague recollection of how he’d ended the previous evening: gambling, drinking, and spending most of his credits. And then the Explorers had come over to his table and started buying him drinks . . . Aury groaned and immediately threw the covers off the bed and checked himself to make sure none of his parts were missing: feet, hands, arms, legs, eyes, ears, teeth, noses, hair, . . .wait! he stopped and began to groan . . . there was something not quite right here . . .eyes?! He’d only had one eye when he’d gone to bed last night!

Quickly he jumped up and ran across the room to the vanity mirror. There it was. Set right there off to one side of his face. His other eye had shifted over too, and his vision—usually double in the morning anyway—blurred in and out of focus.

A knock sounded on the door.

“Room service!”

“Go away! I’m sleeping!” Aury grunted and looked over at the phone by the bed. He looked in the mirror again. I do hope I’m just imagining this. Maybe I’ll just wake up and this will not have happened. His antennae twitched at him. He turned and walked back over to the bed, sat down and picked up the phone off the floor.

He was beginning to get accustomed to the implanted eye but, nonetheless, it took him six tries to get the number right. He held the phone and as he waited for an answer he picked up a glass with one hand, a pitcher with another, turned on the water with a third and scratched his secondary thorax with a fourth.

“You’ve reached the Exploration Command Center phone menu! Please enter the extension number if you know it or hold for more options . . .Press One for Base Operations, press two for Base Operations Orderly room, press three for Base Operations Commander, press four for Base Operations Vice Commander, Press five for . . . . . press seven-hundred fifty seven for Aboriginal Assimilations Research and Alterations Developmental Division — Thank you, your call is very important to us and will be answered in the order received by the next available operator.”

“Dum dum de dum dee ddeee diddle dee dum . . . ” Aury hummed along with the music on the phone. He was familiar with it from his previous contacts with the base.

He leaned back on the bed, setting the phone down next to his ear. On the night stand was an interesting book called Gideon. He picked it up and began to look for good parts. Soon he was asleep, and dreaming.

A long hall stretched before him, and as he walked it turned and twisted this way and that. Each time a turn presented itself, another turn appeared in the other direction, beckoning him. He never took the other turns–he tried to stay to the right, less three hundred and sixty degrees. He knew he wasn’t going in circles. As he passed each turn, billions of tiny men would jump into him, hitting him and pulling at him and he watched how, as he progressed through the maze, parts of his body would be transformed.

“AARADD, can I help you?”

“Sxxxxgjkkkzzzzzzz” Aury snored into the receiver.



“Well, ok then. It’s been my pleasure. Click”

“Snxx–Huh? What? Oh crud. They hung up.” Aury looked at his watch and noticed how incredibly late for work he was. Then, as a piece of the previous evening clicked into his jigsaw memory. its puzzled edges clicking firmly into flashback status, he remembered the reason for the previous evening’s binge.


Migration season had passed, and the Zibishari prides had returned to their respective den-hives with much ceremony and celebration.

Aury requested through the retirement formality a leave of absence, was granted one, and settled into his den for deep chrysalis. He would emerge refreshed, having shed his exoskeloten. He emerged bearing an even deeper, more regal, shade of burgundy coloring than he had hoped for, and departed his den to present himself to the queen.

Approaching the hive from a distance, one could almost mistake the forested palisades for natural formations. Upon closer examination, one notices the uniformity of the cliff faces, the regularity of the tiered forestry, and then, as one nears even closer, the teeming activity at all levels at the many entrances to the hive. The first thing Aury noticed as he approached his base Hive was the absence of the usual activity. He checked the sky and noted by the relative position of the moons that he was not early—in fact, he was several days late.

The main entrance to the hive, usually rippling with activity, was nearly deserted. Aury paused at the collonaded entrance and approached a Zibishar who seemed to be standing around doing nothing. He presented himself in the traditional manner, a defensive posture followed by an untenable one. The other Yibishar ignored him and walked away. Aury’s antennae ruffled and twitched. He was amazed. The traditional greeting was never ignored. To do so was to bring tragedy to your entire family for seventy-seven generations. Aury continued on, passing only two other Yibishar as he progressed deeper into the hive. A frightening noise sounded from behind him and quickly he hid behind one of the many pillars lining the Great Hall. An object, whirring and screaming, broke the silence and whizzed past. A strange creature appeared to be trapped within it.

Aury continued on to Central Registration. The area was devoid of life. Aury signed his name in the book, and continued on to his office in the Queen’s Security Council Center only one level removed from the Queen’s chambers. Here, in the Center, he would spend the remainder of the year until the Great Migration would take them to the warmer climates which would induce Yibishar to breed. He was, officially, one of many official consorts to the Queen. In actuality, he was more of a security analyst and spent most of his time purveying security reports.

Footsteps echoed in the halls. Warily, Aury turned quickly; a hideous, pithy looking creature loomed over him. Aury began to ululate the Yibisharisti Fighting Chant and reared up into a defensive posture. His talons wrenched forth from their protected sheathings and lunged toward the foul beast. Aury fully intended to rend the intruder limbless and headless without even saying hello. It was quite frightening looking. Two eyes, two legs, two arms. The simple repetition of the number two so many times was reason enough for Aury to want to destroy it, but then their was that hollow, rancorous noise it was making at him. Like an incentive saying “go aheaad, tear me to pieces!” Aury lept at him. And bounced right off. One of the creatures appendages must have snaked out at him with lightening speed and countered his attack. Aury lept again and again he was repelled. The creature continued to make that grating noise.

“Ok,” the creature said after Aury had bounced off of it several times.

“You speak, beast.”

“Of course I do. I’m a highly civilized creature. May I help you up?” he asked as he extended a hand. Aury rolled up into a ball. When he unfurled an hour later, the creature still stood their. It looked to be on fire.

“You are burning.”

“Nono, I’m smoking a cigar,” it explained and then began making that insidious noise again.

“It smells foul. Why are you making that horrible noise at me?”

“There was nothing else to do while you went fetal on me,” he explained as he stubbed out the cigar underfoot. “That noise is called laughter. It has to do with an emotion called ‘happiness’. But listen, before I scare you again, I was sent down here to gather your security files.”

“Who are you?” asked Aury.

“You really don’t know? Geez. You must be the last person on the planet to be notified. Let me think . . . ” the Explorer tilted his silly looking head to one side and pondered carefully. “Here’s the schtick: I’m an Explorer. I come from a distant galaxy, far far away.” He lit another cigar and tilted part of his head to one side. “We come here in peace, to show the Yibishar a more convenient and self reliant lifestyle—we’re like, I dunno, like gods I guess. But we’re not. We just have a lot of scientific advances that may make us seem godlike. It’s tough, and the Yibishar don’t possess the technology, but I can be attacked and destroyed. Eventually the Yibishar will be technologically progressed and gathered into the Explorer Way, and will join us in searching the Galaxy for intelligent life,” he finished. He took off part of his head, much to Aury’s disconcertment, and waved it toward the ceiling. The Explorer noticed his trepidation and explained. “It’s a hat. A garment, something you wear. See?” He handed him the large brimmed object which Aury then turned over several times in his hands before giving it back.

“Where do I fit in?” asked Aury.

“Ummmm . . . I need those files?” Aury nodded his head succinctly, turned to his office door. and then slid back a series of levers that, when thrown in the proper sequence, unlatched the door.

“There they are.” He directed the Explorer to a row of file tablets against the wall. The Explorer then pointed an object at the files and Aury watched as they disintegrated.

“That was my life’s work! You destroyed it!”

“Nono, just gated it to Howard Space Port. We’ll probably be needing your help over the next few weeks to answer any questions we may have. Here’s my card. You can catch a cab to the Howard Shantytown and stay there until we call for you. If you have any questions, dial the number on the card and connect to Alien Security Control. It’s all on the card in Yibi and in Galactic. Have a nice day!” The creature turned and walked away. Aury stood their looking at the card. He hadn’t comprehended half of what the creature had said to him, but he was beginning to assume that much had happened in the time he had slept.



Getting dressed was a bit of a chore: his eye glass didn’t fit him anymore and everything looked fatter than it had before. He banged his head on a few things but after he managed to find his way around he began to suspect that the additional eye was indeed a blessing. His peripheral vision improved, depth perception heightened, and he imagined that he would actually be able to see further than before.

After checking out of the hotel, Aury paged a cab and waited patiently until one drifted down from the sky. The door wooshed open. As he reached for the door to pull it closed after him he entertained the sickening observation that as he reached for the door the arm he tried to use to reach for it simply wasn’t there.

“Yiyiyiyiyiyiyiiyiy—” he started to chatter in his native tongue the death chatter he had been taught as a child in hatchling school. His whole body felt like it crawled with insects one instant and numb the next. Other Yibis waiting at the platform looked at him as if he had lost his mind so he stopped, regained some composure and used one of his remaining four arms to pull down the door.

“Problem, buddy?” asked the Yibishar pilot.

“Nono. Just a small matter of growing and losing body parts.”

“Well, as long as it ain’t nothing serious. I knew a guy once who got pinched like a pimple by some heavy machinery. The sad thing was that he was alive, and they knew he would stay alive until they separated the machinery that had him all caught up, ya see? So they done brought his woman by to say goodbye, and his kids and his mawmaw and all. Damn near had a family reunion—”

“Thank-you for sharing, a lovely story, really, but I don’t think I need to hear anymore. Just take me to Howard Space Port please.”

“Ah, you’re a zonie, are ya? Should have known by them two eyes you got. You almost pass for a Zibi, you know. Why, if your shell was just a shade darker…And I can tell them antennae ain’t real . . .if you ask me they ought hire a guy like me to check over what they do over there in alien research and development—You know what them crazy space aliens are doing over there now, don’t you?”

“Please, tell me,” inquired a skeptical Aury.

“Well, I ain’t suppose to tell no one, but seeing as how we’ll all know sooner than later, I guess there be no harm in tellin you,” he confided in a near whisper. “I heard from a couple of explorers that the latest invention the Explorers are going to let us have are robots.

“Robots? What are those?”

“They’re like little, mechanical Yibishar who will do all our work for us. I heard they can even perform surgery, cutting us open and the like to fix what’s gone wrong. I bet they could have saved that pinched guy.”

“Yes. I’m sure they could have.” Little Yibishar . . .little men? Aury felt like chattering again. He began to scratch at his skin. Skin?

“Well, here we are. That’ll be twenty, Galactic.”

“Twenty, Galactic!!!!!?” What do you take me for, a damn zonie? Do I look like some kinda Space Bopper to you?!” he demanded. The Yibishari in the front seat turned around and looked him up and down.

“Well, you sure look like an Explorer, but I don’t know, you speak Yibi better than any Explorer I done heard. A bit stuck up, like you might be one of them Nouveau rich politicians I read about, maybe you been getting some of that surgery or something. That’ll be twenty, Galactic.”

“—oh, nevermind,” Aury handed him the twenty and got out of the cab. He paused as he exited the cab and viewed the Space port sprawled before him. A series of well planned out architectural buildings lined both sides of the street. A gatehouse stood to one side of the avenue and an arch spanned the road bearing the name “Howard SPB” in large, metallic letters. Aury took a step towards the gate and as he fell forward and his face rapidly approached the pavement, he noticed that he was missing a pair of legs and that his second thorax had completely disappeared. In fact, he surmised as he lay there, his exoskeleton was feeling rather mushy and soft as well. Aury looked to the gate and remembered the trees and rolling hills which had once been here. Now they had been hacked back to a safe distance, the jungle kept at bay by stasis field pods set all along the perimeter. In the distance a space shuttle launched vertically into the sky. A twinkle and it was gone. Overhead a flight of hover-craft thundered past.

Aury stood up, brushed himself off, adjusted his now loosely fitting clothing and suddenly wondered at another appendage he seemed to have sprouted in the area where his two walking appendages met his…waist. Oh no, not one of those, too, my oh my. What is happening to me? What have they done?

He took a few hesitant steps and realized that walking wasn’t really so tough. He could even manage a little sway of his arms—he only had two left now—just like the Explorers did. Why am I coming here? he wondered to himself. It’s not like they’ll help me . . . I’m sure this is part of some plan they have to destroy our culture and takeover. They’ll just somehow transform all Zibis into bipods.

He neared the gate. As he approached, a uniformed officer stepped out of the booth. Smiling, the man stepped up to him and extended a hand. “Well, Major O’Donnel,” said the uniform. “I’m glad to see you made it back. We certainly didn’t expect you so soon. Your implants notified us of your approach. I have a car waiting.” He held out an open palm to one side and indicated a waiting car.

“Thank-you,” replied Aury. “It’s been a rough mission. I’ve obtained the information . . . Is this car secure?”

“Of course,” replied the officer. “Central Alien Investigations Office, please. And be snappy,” he directed to the driver. “This man has just come back from intensive transmogrification.” He turned to Aury. “I imagine you are tired, and a little disoriented, and would like to unload the pico-lattices as soon as possible.”

“You bet. Up until I saw you at the gatehouse I had no idea I was really a human, transmogrified into an alien transmogrifying back into a human. I really believed I was a Zippy.”

“Hehehe. How quaint,” remarked the officer politely.

“You know, they actually are amazed by miniature robots? Imagine what they would think of pico-lattice technology. Billions of subatomic energy lattices linked, working together to alter the very pattern that binds us to what we perceive as reality, changing Plankett structure of any object. What next, hehe. Right?”

“Right. What next?” the officer laughed quietly under his gloved hand.

Aury leaned back in the seat, ran his fingers through his hair, and let out a sigh. Wait a minute . . .he ran his fingers through hair again and felt the small, nubby stumps where the antennae had once sprouted. Quaint?


Key Looe Resort – Florida Keys – Review

Last year, in early June of 2014, my son (12 at the time) and I took a birding expedition to Florida.  We started in Jacksonville, and worked our way all the way down to the Dry Tortugas over a period of 13 days.  One lodging location stood out, beneath all the rest.

After over a year of submitting my initial review to Expedia, I received the notification from them that it was finally published.  I went to the site to see it, but it wasn’t there.  Here is my unabashed, honest review of possibly the shittiest roadside roadhouse roach motel at which I’ve ever been misfortunate enough to be tricked into staying.

In short: Filter flies, ants, a frog and a bar outside my door

I will spare you the narrative and just make a list of all the problems of this “resort.” Make no mistake – this is a motel. It is not a resort by any stretch of the imagination. These items are listed in no particular order:
1. Filter flies in the bathroom
2. We actually woke up one morning to a giant tree frog in the toilet
3. No 24 hr reception
4. ants in the room (the real little ones)
5. bare bulb fixtures
6. Weak security (mechanical key, doorknob based with door swinging outward (hinges on the outside and an easy-pry latch)
7. The “tikki” bar is less than 100 feet from the rooms at the one end of the motel, and it is LOUD.
8. 80 – 99 Db noise from bar until 11:15 PM on the weekends, 10 pM weeknights.
9. If you come in at the wrong time, parking is non-existent because this is a local bar hangout. So you have sit and wait for someone to leave. The only other option is to park illegally on the highway.
10. The bathroom sink had a very, very slow drain,
11. The shower floor had not been cleaned prior to our use of the room. It was slippery, and had a nice big wad of hair in the drain.

The Food:

We didn’t try the food. That seemed like a bad idea.

The overall hotel ambiance:

This hotel is disgusting. It is a pit, and it is NOT a place for children. The band plays music with “F* you” in the lyrics and they play it loud, and repeatedly, and long. Here is the really frightening part: These guys have a SCUBA shop attached to their motel, and offer “resort” dives. If this is how they take care of their rooms, how well do you think they are taking care of their dive equipment?

The room looked nice on the Internet. The Internet is a liar.

The Solution:

The problems I found here could easily be repaired by a few big yellow bulldozers, new ownership and management, and a new building.

Key West is not too far away. The Yankee ferry ride out to the Dry Tortugas was great, and yielded the most awesome snorkeling you could want.

Shit Doctors say when giving a prostate exam

Here are the top ten worst things men hear when they get a prostrate exam:

  1. Drop ’em and bend over the table; we’re gonna do this frat boy style.
  2. We’re just gonna poke the crinkly brown monster right in the eye…
  3. Take off your pants and underwear, lie on your side, lift one leg…no, the other leg…no, your third leg…
  4. This will take just a second, you won’t feel a thing.
  5. I’ll be finished when I’m finished! (annoyed)
  6. Not on the first date…haha..(First time at a new Dr, patient asks if he needs an exam):
  7. Two is a party, three’s a crowd
  8. Open up! Here comes the choo-choo!!
  9. If it hurts, it’s either because you’ve had diarrhea, or because I’m doing it right…
  10. Oh, God, I’m coming! Jk!

How to fix a noisy, rattling, laptop fan

If you have a laptop, and it begins to make a horrible, rattling, clacking sound, and if you are certain it is the fan, forget canned air. Your laptop has an intake and an exhaust port for air. Today I learned that blowing air into them is nearly useless. All it does is make the sound change. Here’s how I ended up fixing it:

1: Disconnect your laptop from everything, including the battery, and pick it up in your hands.
2: With laptop powered down COMPLETELY, press and hold the power button for a complete minute.
3: Proceed at YOUR OWN RISK.
4: Setup a light so that it shines across the openings
5: Swallow and get your mouth as dry as possible. Take a deep breath, place mouth on exhaust, and BLOW.
6: repeat process, alternating between intake and exhaust vents, until such time as you or your cohorts see no dust appearing in a fantastical plume whenever you blow.

That’s it. It should fix the sound (it did on mine). If you think your laptop runs too hot all the time, you should just do this anyway. Do not overuse this procedure – you could probably also make a seal around each vent, with your hand and a small shop vaccuum set on exhaust, and get the same (probably better) result.

Again, if you electrocute yourself doing this, don’t blame me. If you use a shop vac, you want to use the exhaust so that you can see when the air blows clean as you alternate between vents. Short bursts are best – a long burst may just wedge dust deeper into the laptop fan parts and stall the fan completely. My preference is to do this with the fan running, so that you can hear and so that the rotation assists with the cleaning. Again, at your OWN risk.

How to transmit passwords, securely

Put it in a text document, zip it with encryption, print out the binary data, send it via morse code, type it into a raw file and saved as a zip, then repeat the same procedure (with a new password) to get the password to the zip file.  now you have two zip files, and the second zip file has, in it, the password to the first zip file.  Keep doing this for all eternity, until the universe contracts to a single point.  Continue until arriving at the first password you entered.  Now, reverse time and, with the password in possession, travel backward through the beginning of time, through to the end of the previous universe, all the way back to when the first password was sent to you.  The password you have in hand should open the file.

I have commenced construction of a box that will do this, but it might take me five or six universal cycles to completely debug.

Now, the complexities of time travel aside, why wouldn’t this procedure work?

How to be [mostly] Secure

I often wonder about security. Recent news, where people are saying things about breaches like “it can’t be prevented”, “you will be hacked” and “If you want to be connected, you need to be protected” makes me really ponder whether or not certain devaluation tactics might not be the best thing to do.  After all, if having knowledge of what you are about to do is enough to destroy you, then you might be in the wrong line of work.  Clearly, then, these tactics won’t work for those whose lives are founded upon cowardice and sneakiness.

  1. Dismantle your email systems.  Use Jabber or some other point-to-point secure chat for all communications. Smash your phone.
  2. Use a secure file drop to securely draft and share documents.  Let security be their problem.
  3. Publish all previous emails from everyone in your company.
  4. Publish all salaries.  Be truthful.  If you lie, eventually someone will talk.
  5. Refresh your computer every hour.  Do not store ANY data locally.
  6. reset your password at the beginning of every hour. Heck, write a code that will refresh it every 10 minutes.  You don’t need to know it, you are resetting everything in an hour.
  7. Change operating systems every day.
  8. Perform any sensitive work at the beginning of the hour, right after a refresh and password reset.
  9. Publish all of your financial information.
  10. Post your credit report online.
  11. Any computer that is not in use for more than 15 minutes should power down and auto-air gap (lest the hackers hack WOLAN).
  12. Make multiple videos of yourself in compromising situations and post them online.  Better yet, get a distant friend to do it for you – someone who nobody can connect to you (I happily volunteer myself for this).
  13. Expose your desktop.  Broadcast a live feed of your desktop.  Let everyone see what you are doing.
  14. Expose your self and publish on the internet.  This will of course only work if EVERYONE does it.  Let’s face it, if every hollywood actress posted nudes on the internet, nobody would care anymore.

Does all of this seem ridiculous?  What if everyone did this?  What would there be left to litigate, I wonder…it should be obvious I am being somewhat tongue in cheek.  There are of course things I do online that I don’t want anyone to know.  But if the world did find out, frankly I doubt they would mind.

If I ever start my own company, I may try this out.  I may keep all systems completely public and all conversations would be mandatory public, even salary negotiations.


Bonus materials

When I wrote the line about smashing your phone, it reminded me of this.  Here is a fun little email exchange I had once with someone about phones:

To: several coworkers:

Subject: I understand that you all look to me for leisurership in these technical matters, so here it goes…


I apologize for the confubulation earlier when we were chattering  by the waker upperer maker.  Allow me to clarsify. The thinga majobber doodad on the squawk box is connected to the whirly curly doodad, which attaches to the bobble doohicky, on which there is a dipswitch thingamajigger.  This attaches to the ringer thinger dinger.  You push the little numerified bicker tickers on the thinga majobber doodad to yackify a whatsit to some whosit on their blinking squawk box. Once you are yackified to the whosit, you yack into the ringer thinger dinger or get yacked at, depending on whether you are a dooz-its or a says-its.


Thanks you,


Whatsit Architect