Saturday, June 30, 2001

Next week I get to see about 200 people I can’t even remember the names of, …shit!  …another dangling participle, …200 people of whom I can’t even remember a single name.  It’s going to be strange!

 I’ve gotten a few emails related to this 25^th high school reunion, …asking how I’m going to deliver myself as an incredibly famous and fabulously rich game developing stellar celebrity super star.  I have decided to NOT rent a limo or Ferrari, nor am I going to wear my sequined seal leather jacket that says “Yes! It’s Him!” on the back.  Instead, I am going to wear what I was wearing back then, …Levi’s, a Hanes T-shirt, and my Wallabees, …and here’s why…

…you knew there was going to be a story, right? This is the yearbook picture of me in 10th Grade.  Except for the signature `stache and groovy goatayyy, things seem to have come full-circle on me.   I don’t have a picture for 11th or 12th grade.  I don’t have one because I went to one of the first “alternative” schools for those two years.   I’m not sure if these schools still exist, being the result of the Hippie Movement and silly `70s attempts to be progressive and re-define education by treating children more like adults, …thus, hopefully, making them more like adults. The Alternative School was, I guess, like pre-college.  You didn’t go to school all day; you only went to the classes you took.  Most of these classes met only once or twice a week and the rest of the schooling was supposed to be done by the student during “independent” study, …ya, sure, …I’m hip,  …and I’m definitely in!  School time was about 1/3 of what it was supposed to be. My guess is that Matt Groening went to an Alternative School.

 The Alternative School, BTW, was called A School.  No jokes, please, …we’ve heard them all!  It was strange because the first schooling you get in the Navy after bootcamp is also called A School.  I figured it was a life’s calling or something, but that’s an entirely different story.

 This is why, though, I won’t know anyone at the reunion, …because I never went to the regular high school for the last 2 years, …because of A School.  I also didn’t go to my graduation because the A School in the Navy.  The Navy A School for SOSUS was moving from Key West to Norfolk, …and in order for me to enter the last class in time to avoid the 6-month downtime of the move, I had to be in bootcamp before graduation day.

 Small digression, …while in bootcamp, I ended up in the Dispensary for a week for flat feet.  Actually, this was a stab at an early discharge and getting the hell out of there!  …what the fuck was I thinking when I enlisted?!?  This week of limping did not convince the Navy that I was unfit, but it did make me late for that last class in Key West.  So I stayed in Key West for a month swabbing decks and cleaning shitters,  …Margaritaville aint all that much fun for a low-class sailor!  Then I spent another 6 months on the U.S.S. Detroit as a Boatswain’s Mate, …swabbing decks and cleaning shitters.

 I shouldn’t have smoked that bowl before I sat down, …sorry.

…so school for me in 11th and 12th grade was pretty much learning the minimal number of times I actually had to be at school and still pass.  The rest was cutting class and getting stoned.  …then again, another bowl would be great right now, 10th grade, regular high school, was a much trickier task.  It took real talent to get away with what came so easy in A School.  This is a map of my regular high school, with full annotations.

 Stoning Area #1 was the best, of course, …hence it’s title.  It was a nice little clearing in the middle of a small thicket.  You were under complete cover, even in winter, and you had plenty of time to hear someone coming.  “Hace fresco!”, as I recall, was the password to avoid panic,  …bowl dumpage and joint stubbing, …which could get you killed if not at least disowned.

 This was also the way to downtown, …i.e.: Playland and Campus Casino.  These were the two pinball joints that served the student body of Penn State University.   A high schooler could easily pass as one of the many students that took their breaks there.

 Even better, a high schooler could play pinball all day with only a few quarters.  Back then, scores were earthly, …a thousand of them meant something, …not like today when you need millions and billions of points and still can’t quite get an extra ball, …let alone an extra game, …and you only get 3 balls to start with, …and,  …and,  …god damned microchip technology and ever-increasing complexity,   …and bloody greed and ruining an honest man’s game with mega-point inflation and, …and,  …and fucking shaders!

 …shit, where was I?  Oh yes, …back then you got 3 games for a quarter and 5, …count `em, …5 balls per game.  After a guy has played these machines EVERY Frinight and all weekend thereafter and, of course, on Fuck School Days, …he gets to where he can top-out the extra game counter to its maximum of 15 within a few quarters.  It’s a day-long free ride from there on in, …a pack of Old Golds, a few joints, the thrill of stealing the day,  …man, …I wish I could trade a day of today for a day back then!

 …then again, if I knew back then that I’d be here today, …well, …I probably wouldn’t have made it here ;)

 Stoning Area #2 was also good.   Not as well covered, but it was a quick retreat from the Smoking Area at the Back Entrance.  Smoking Area at the back entrance?  Yes indeed!  Even as young 16-year olds, we were allowed to freely smoke in the court yard by the Back Entrance.   People still smoked in the Produce Section of the Supermarket back then.  There wasn’t even such a thing as a Smoking Section on airplanes or restaurants.  You could smoke in the doctor’s waiting room back then!   It’s not just microchip technology that has changed so tremendously.

 Stoning Area #3 was almost as convenient as #2, but it was usually only used while coming to, or leaving from, school.

 Stoning Area #4 was great, but you had to have a loaded cigarette.  I would load a cigarette (remove the tobacco and replace it with finely chopped herb) each morning.  Then, during a shared study hall, Marcia and I would walk across the front lawn to get a sip of refreshment at the mall across the street.

 I actually got pretty good grades, but the 2 years in A School would cost me later.  When I wanted to go to UCLA, I first spent 2 years going to night school in Fullerton Community college, and another 2 years full-time in Santa Monica Community College to take all the geometry and algebra and english and… …everything I missed in HIGH school.   There’s always a price to pay and it is usually very expensive ;)

Tuesday, June 26, 2001

Monday, June 25, 2001

First, many thanks to the AntiELVIS who reminded me of the utmost Good Housewife, ...June Cleaver.  How could I have forgotten the Beaver!

Two reasons for embarrassment here, ...first, it takes me so long to do anything at home.  I have been there for almost two years and I am now just hanging pictures.  B. I actually went to one of those auctions yesterday where they sell those cheap, ugly motel room paintings and such.  I got a nice collection, but it is embarrassing.

Saturday, June 23, 2001

Thursday, June 21, 2001

Wow!  In two weeks I'm off to State College, Pennsylvania for my 25th high school re-union!  25 years, ...that is a long time.  I have kept in touch with many school friends, but there are also many for which I have no idea what has happened to them.  This will be weird.

I have traded emails with a dozen of these unknowns and invariably have asked if they play computer games.  The answer?  ..."No, but I bet my kids know who you are.".  Oh dear.

Wednesday, June 20, 2001

Be careful what you wish for!  ...wait, that's a dangling participle or some shit, ...be careful for that which you wish!  Anyone that's been to our office in the past FIVE years knows what an abortion of demolition the street in front is like.  They have been digging, laying cable, and re-filling, ...and digging, fixing busted lines, and re-filling, ...and sometimes just digging, doing apparently nothing, and refilling poor Lamar Street since we moved in back in 1996.  Crossing this street was like a real-life version of Frogger as one negotiated the potholes and barriers while also avoiding the crazed Dallas drivers rushing to get whereever. It seems they are finally putting in the last paving of re-inforced cement.  Finally!  ...then again, I think I preferred the demolition years.  I go out on the front steps to feed my addictions and there was this strategically placed bump in the road right in front of the steps.  The steps gave me an elevated view that made for great entertainment when a female driver went by.   There isn't much more pleasing to the eyes than the dampened simple harmonic motion of a woman's breasts as they heave up and down, ...growing and breathing and pulsating with the very life that, ...pulsing and throbbing and undulating to every poke and prod, every whip and whim that may... ...oh, sorry.

It was like Six Of One's unveiling on Tripping The Rift.  I miss that!

Tuesday, June 19, 2001

Okay, it seems there are two answers to the 1,125,899,906,842,624 Parents Perplex.  The first is impelling, especially for someone raised in Connecticut where the word "cousin" can mean soooo many things.  Incest!   Not brother and sister lovin' perhaps, but if you go back a few generations, you are likely to find a 'familiar' connection between people that are now mating.

The second option, and the one I believe is true, is The Matrix!

I've been alerted by both Amazon.com AND Scott Alden that The Godfather is finally coming out on DVD!  Finally!  I wish they were doing the re-edited version in which they re-organized the first two movies in chronological order.   They could leave the third one out completely, for all I care.

Monday, June 18, 2001

I really enjoy watching shows about history.  I have a strange fascination for history.  I don’t care for exact dates or people’s names, but I love the grand-scale stories and thinking about all the cool shit that has happened.   I get the same feeling from looking at pictures of my family and relatives.  I feel like these are parts of my story.

I was just watching a show about Cro-Magnon’s entry into Europe and thinking “Jees, in order for me to be here today, there must have been someone walking around back then with my genes in them!”.  Thinking about my genetic lineage going way back when,  I suddenly became puzzled by numbers that just can’t be true.

The problem occurs while running down the line from me to my parents to theirs and so on.  In order for me to be here today, I had to have had two parents.  That must be so.  If I go back one generation, there must have been two people living and breathing; two people that would someday make me. 

Each of my parents had to have had two parents themselves, making four grandparents for me.  My grandparents, too, had two parents each, and so on down my family tree.  This is a simple recursive progression.  The number 2 is raised to the power of the generation in order to count the number of people it took to get me here today, …2 parents 1 generation ago, 4 grandparents 2 generations ago, 8 great grandparents 3 generations ago, 16 great great grandparents 4 generations ago, etc.

If I average a 20-year span between generations (the time of birth of one generation to the time of reproduction of the next), I can say that there are approximately 50 generations every 1,000 years.  Doing the simple math, …that’s 1,125,899,906,842,624 people walking around a mere millenium ago to get me here today!

That can’t be right, though. There were never that many people. Where is this collapsing?

Okay, here's another poser!  Why is EVERYONE sending me this image from the Onion?!?                     http://www.theonion.com

Friday, June 15, 2001

http://www.silvermine.org/bobgray

Well, it was two years ago today that ol' Dad blew a cranial gasket.   Two years.  I miss him very much.  It's the sort of thing that makes me want to never "have" anything ever again.  There's an undeniable peace and calm in not having anything that can be taken away, ...and everything is eventually taken away.

Thursday, June 7, 2001

I’m just getting too old, …way too old.  We had an expression in the Navy, …”If you’re going to hoot with the owls, you better still be ready to scream with the eagles!”.  I completely missed what for most of you was Wednesday, June 6^th.  Except for about 4 hours of last night, I completely missed the entire day due to sleep.

It all started Tuesday with a 13-hour day to finish a milestone.  As many of you know, a Lord’s day typically starts at 4am.  It was a great day, milestone looked great, and I got home at about 8pm.  I was just putting my feet up on the coffee table, …bowl cocked-and-loaded, ...TV Guide channel readied for a quick scan, …when the phone rang.  It was Malvern Blackwell!

Mal is not someone to whom you can say “No thanks.” when he wants you to go out and party.  He’s from New Jersey and, well, you’ve seen the Sopranos.   Mal and I have known each other since making levels for DOOM back when.  He’s at Id now and we often go for sushi and martinis at a bar downtown.  Jim, A****n, Fred, and Tim were there, too.

 Anyways, we finished sushi, and a lot of potables to-boot, and decided to go to The Lounge (name changed to protect the guilty) to finish the evening.  Dallas has many things going for it, …very cool people, nice cost of living, relatively clean and crimeless, …and an incredibly high ratio of beautiful women.  These attributes carry over to the bars and exotic dance clubs, too.

It was during the ride from the raw fish to the raw fish that I learned something about the Ritual Van that I never knew before.  Although the speedometer tops out at 110mph, she will actually do almost 120mph.  The needle flickers a lot, and the air conditioner heaves, but those six cylinders are there when you need them.  I don’t normally speed, but I was going to be damned before I let A****n in his little Shelby and Todd in his pussy Vet beat me to the Lounge!

Once again we have proven that it’s not the engine, it’s the attitude!  …just like with games ;)

A****n has special VIP clout at The Lounge, BTW, so we got the special VIP treatment.  It’s times like these that make me truly appreciate what having a harem must be like.  As usual, one girl settles in and she’s pretty much the one all night.  I got Vanessa and was very well pleased.  I got hustled, but it was worth it.  She was doing “sets” of dances, and she was doing it all.  I got to topographically explore everywhere and even did a little spelunking ;)

I remember the first “set” of dances and paid for those.  Then she left, to be immediately replaced by another girl that said she remembered me from Baby Dolls.   I agreed, although I’ve only been to Baby Dolls once or twice, …must be one of those Levelord Look-Alikes ;)

Vanessa came back, …we talked for a while, …because, …you know, …she seemed very interested in me as a person, and then she danced another “set”.  That’s what I remember.  Apparently, though, she remembered a “middle set” and demanded twice what I gave her.  I put up a fight, but when she started to get up for the bouncer, I caved in.  Vanessa was worth every penny, …I think I was just bummed because I thought she was there out of love, …not money ;)

I drove home, smelling the female scent that was all over me, and trying to sit without snapping my yardstick.  I got home at 3am, one hour before I usually get up for work.   The next thing I knew was sesuJ calling my on the phone at 4pm to remind me of the Birthday Party for his wife that night.

One mentionable topic came up during the birthday party dinner, and I thought I’d ask to see if I’m the only one that knows about this, …the conversation started somehow about me being a virgin until I was 19 years-old.  Imagine, two years in the Navy and still a virgin.

We don’t need to go into all that here, though, …it’s only important because that led into a talk about all the maneuvering and strategic placing that goes on at the movie house when a guy starts dating in his teens.  The slow arm placement over her shoulder, the “relaxing” of the arm such that a breast is brushed, the “Isn’t this a great movie!” placement of the hand on the thigh.   I then brought up the Popcorn Tub Ploy.

“The Popcorn Tub Ploy?” everyone asked.  “Yes”, I returned, “…the one where you cut a hole in the bottom of the popcorn tub and, …well, …you know, …put your pecker in there and wait till she reaches the bottom of the tub?   ...and even if it doesn't work, you still get to put your wick in something warm and buttery!”.  I was surprised that no one knew of this ruse and didn’t feel bad anymore for being such a late bloomer.

Monday, June 4, 2001

This is a test bench for fuel controls.  It is basically a PC hooked-up to ALOT of servos, actuators, solenoids, temperature readers, pressure readers, ...cool shit like that.  Our test benches automated alot of the tests that used to be done by hand.  Every 10,000 flight hours, the fuel control is removed from the turbine engine on a commercial jet.   It is completely dismantled, rebuilt, and then certified on one of these test benches.

I wrote the software for these test benches.  It was mostly a debug job on existing code, actually.  I'm not sure if you can tell, but the photo above shows a fellow engineer playing Wolfenstein on the test bench.  This shot was taken when DOOM was just out in shareware version, and we were all still hooked on Wolfenstein, ...what a great time, if only for these two games ;)

This is a turbine engine, Pratt & Whitnet I believe, being dismantled at Northwest Airlines.  We would often go onsite to various airline hubs to upgrade our test benches.  It was awesome, ...like visiting the Fire Station when you were a kid.   Huge, huge engines and machines and fuselage sections and wings and all sorts of cool shit that wowwed you just by their sheer size.

These are the turbine fans of an engine that tried to eat a duck.  This is one of the things that scared the shit out of me the first year or two that I worked in the industry.  I love to fly, but I was starting to realize that me previous ignorance was indeed blissful...

...I was also put off by the mechanics and technicians working on the engines.  Names like Skeeter, Zeb, Smitty (...come on! ...we've all known many-a-Smitty and the intellectual powers that usually lie therein!), ...I'd sit and watch them work, ...hundreds of tiny, intricate, interlocking pieces all spawled out on a work bench and one of these guys slowly putting them back together again.  Then, ...TWING, ...and the associated "Oh!  Shit!", ...and a small O-ring goes flying through the air, ...or TINK, TINK, TINKLE, TINK,  ...and a screw is dropped into the winding interior chambers of the 90%-completed fuel control.

I swore I'd never fly again!  I quickly learned, though, that these guys are true gurus in their trade.  The planes themselves, too, are put through rigorous testing and redundant certification.  The things to really worry about, the next time you leave for vacation, are the Wolfensteins being played on the test bench, ...and the duck, ...and, of course, ... the Levelord writing the code that validates the main systems of the plane you're about to get on.