Birthday Blog

Baring some sort of statistical abnormality such as a lightning strike or being hit by a meteor in the next five or so hours by the time you read this I will have made my 39th lap around the Sun.

I’m lucky, countless people are far worse off than I am. One, in particular, is so bad off I’m not sure I could even get her a hard copy of this. She’s on my mind a lot, I’m sure there are a lot of people who you’re thinking about right now. I find it amazing how physically separated we all are yet so connected with everyone else through shared experience,...all across the globe.

I’m blessed, I’m strong, I’m loved. Strength, regardless of form, takes work and adversity. I’ve had my share; constant, sometimes near-fatal bouts with pneumonia, depression, anxiety, suicide, struggles with side effects of prescription drugs. I feel like the stronger I become dealing with my own personal demons, the more the world around me turns negative and more challenging. Every bit of mindfulness, every ounce of energy, every piece of perspective is met with more bad news. The start of 2020 has continued this trend. I still consider myself blessed and want to share a particular quote I feel everyone needs right now. One of the tools I employed in my own battles and I now use to stand up against the rapidly changing world around me.

I’ll preface this by saying that I know saying “Rick and Morty” comes with a certain stigma not unlike being a Trekkie or being into Dungeons and Dragons. Rick and Morty bring about visions of dorks rioting over very specific Mcdonalds dipping sauces and other embarrassing behavior. This rabid silliness kept me away from the show for half a decade. A lesson in prejudging, a book, a cover, all of that.

I should also make it clear I don't have the virus and, to the best of my knowledge, never carried it.

I’m not here to talk you into liking or even watching an episode, just absorb the quote and tolerate it. If not, you're one of the "booers" (we'll get to that) but trust me, I think it could help.



In this scene, Rick is being booed by between 3000 and 4000 intelligent beings. Rick is not a hero, in fact, he’s a pretty nefarious dude. My personal theory is that the same fanbase that’s paying $4500 for McNugget dipping sauce is also directing a little too much misguided admiration at Rick, causing the creators to lay on the “Rick is bad and does bad things” extra thick in the perpetually half-finished fourth season. I can't say I blame them. Who doesn't want to galavant about an infinite amount of timelines doing whatever they want and being a badass about it? Not to mention being "the smartest being in the galaxy".

The harsh truth we'll probably never know is the extreme price Rick pays for being Rick that only Rick will probably ever know and understand. Everyone wants to be as smart and as powerful as Rick, but I bet no one would want to stare down the demons he's dealing with. These demons have turned Rick into an alcoholic, nihilistic, family-tearing, grandson manipulating, destroyer of entire worlds. Therefore, who might be better to quote from when searching for strength than the guy constantly battling with Rick level inner demons?

One of my most-liked comments ever on twitter was when the official Rick and Morty account tweeted about a line before this one. The line goes something like, “boo all you want, I’ve seen what makes you cheer!”  I pointed out that the line shortly after was my favorite and months later I still get ‘like’ notifications for it. For this reason, I know the power of this message. I know it can resonate with people, and I’m betting we could all use this.

On the surface, it appears to be Rick just being Rick, yelling at a room full of beings that don’t share the same interests as him. When this episode aired, the line immediately stood out to me; everyone has a room full of booing people (hopefully just metaphorically speaking), things they are struggling with whether they know it or not. Every time you take a step, click a mouse, or even just breathing you’re not letting your room of booers beat you.

Having originally been entirely metaphorical, these words now have taken on a literal sense for me. My immune disorder, something I’d been especially struggling with since last November, has had me on Prednisone ever since.  Even the slightest hint of going off the stuff and the wheezing gets worse, the breaths get shorter and the familiar taste of bronchitis returns, but as Rick level evil as Prednisone is, it kicks just as much ass, helps keep me breathing and each breath counts. These breaths come one after another, like compound interest they just keep piling up, and the idea your struggle has to go another round should indeed raise your self-esteem. You may not win the fight, but at least force the judges to make a decision.

During the course of the year, I’ve undergone a battery of tests; in the process,every file and medical note regarding my lifelong struggle with Asthma and Pneumonia was printed out. The end result was a phone book thick pile of papers I lugged all the way to Nebraska Medical Center in Omaha.  Reading the first entry was a trip for me. Dated 1983, the report looks like it was typed with an actual typewriter and very well may have been. The young me they are describing is the same age as my son, who shares the same name as me. This battle has been going on since before Coach Osborne went for two. Yet….I kept breathing, one breath at a time. I have a family, I have a job, I contribute to society, despite booers who told me I wouldn’t.

The threat of the virus and it's respiratory nature sent me home from work about two weeks earlier than everyone else. Something unprecedented at the time. People think working from home is great, and I’m not going to lie and say it doesn’t have it’s upsides. Being so close to my family, no commute etc., but I feel it’s a bit like getting water from the same river you’re defecating in. You never really feel like you’re fully away from work, and during work you never fully feel at home. You exist in this sort of in-between place I've never really gotten used to. I knew this already. I had worked from home at both previous jobs, but never for two weeks straight. I knew it would be tough, but I also knew working from home was the smart thing to do.

The abruptness of it… one Monday I went to work, the next day I was logging in from my bedroom. That’s how the world moves now. Try and name something that isn’t affected by ‘it’....but fuck ‘it’, because you have to keep breathing.

I use the word ‘it’ because I’m tired of hearing the word, it’s overuse and constant reminders, both right in front of us all or across the globe are always there. I don’t want to give it the satisfaction.

No one knows what the future holds, most likely the world has changed forever, but the breaths you’ve taken, they can’t be taken back, you’ve existed, we’ve existed and with every single inhale we notch a point in the good guy column.

I should pump the breaks here a bit. Sure it’s great to take on your struggles, but it’s another to go out looking for bears to poke. If you’re not careful, you could end up like Rick:  alcoholic, extremely depressed and making enemies in every reality you portal yourself into.

With moderation in mind, we step back to me as a child,....many, many breaths ago if you will. I was extremely shy, hiding behind my parents, exhibiting antisocial behavior even at Thanksgiving. “Andy would it kill you to be a little social?” I was mature for my age and lacked patience with those around me. While other kids were playing, I was constantly worried about the onset of nuclear war or alien invasion (thanks National Enquirer). While other kids collected G.I. Joes and got better at Mario than I ever will. I was worrying about stepping outside in ten years and immediately getting skin cancer from a completely depleted ozone layer. I was more afraid of global warming in Predator 2 and Robocop than any ridiculous amount of bloodshed or cloaking aliens. In retrospect, I think these unfounded fears were what would later become my issues with anxiety.  In the meantime, Nuclear war never came, neither did the alien invasion of 1994 as predicted by National Enquirer and I never got skin cancer. I kept breathing, breathing through my fears, my successes, my triumphs, my struggles.

My mom patiently told me over and over again that the National Enquirer was full of shit and reassured me about all my other worries. Don’t listen to the booers, listen to your mother, mine was right about the alien invasion and countless other things... if your mom is one of your booers you can borrow mine, she's awesome.

At the same time though, my mom had worries of her own for me. She was concerned about my extreme shyness and even arranged playdates and sleepovers on my behalf. Looking back I can’t understand why I was so concerned with what people thought. The older I get the less the opinions of others matter to me. I’ve said this before, so If I’ve said it in this blog before please forgive me, but I think once you have your own family, your own cliche, you don’t worry about fitting in because you have your own tribe to return home to at the end of the day. That’s just my theory. Yes, some people are going to boo you, but you can’t waste your energy on them.  Focus on those very few who matter. Think about what a small number of people that is, the people who matter to you most versus the seven billion or so on the planet, pretty small number huh? I’m not saying dislike everyone out of the gate, I’m saying don’t waste your breath on someone who is booing you.

Yes, tomorrow is my birthday, the odometer is about to roll over, but over the last few years I’ve celebrated my birthday harder and harder. I take no breath "for granite"* and neither should you. So for my birthday do me a favor, share this blog with everyone who isn’t booing you, everyone that needs to hear it and we can all celebrate every single breath we take together.

*sorry I couldn’t resist at least one R&M reference 

Last Updated: 3/29/2020 11:29 AM

State Of The Smitty Adress

Last week Blizzard let me know I was to receive three free days of World Of Warcraft as soon as I redeemed the gift that was in my login screen.

The first day I played relentlessly, the second not as much and by the third, only somewhat. The small amount of time I spent on that last day was not unlike an elderly person "getting their affairs in order" prior to death. I tried to make sure my characters were left in a state where things could be picked back up without as much incident, unlike a lot of time I felt was wasted relearning to play each character and getting them to a place where I felt they could be productive.

My PC monitor stood tall and behind my laptop which I used to play the online stream of the Lincoln Saltdogs games as I quested away most of my weekend.

After having returned from a bathroom break my laptop monitor looked like a shattered window on acid. Colors and individual pixels danced about the mostly static screen that looked like a Microsoft Paint doodle in which someone went nuts with the paint bucket tool.

I did what any computer person would do in the above situation, I turned my laptop off and turned it back on. After two unsuccessful attempts, I let my laptop cool off as I feared I had let the poor thing get too hot ....no luck.

My fear upon seeing the screen was that I had let the laptop get too hot and I had melted or somehow damaged the graphics card but my eldest stepson was over and assured me that the screen had merely been punctured, broken or somehow hit with extreme force. He was kind enough to look up the cost of a replacement which ran right around $100 and removed the old LCD screen. Now I worry though that I lost the tiny screws for the LCD screen he had carefully gathered. He seemed baffled by what could have caused such extreme force. My guess would be my 18-month-old son who had spent the previous couple weeks popping off keys from my laptop keyboard one by one every time my wife and I were distracted for mere seconds.

I limped the laptop along getting precious database backups created and off the machine by hooking up the laptop to my flat screen tv. The second time I went to do so though resulted in a series of beeps and silences which made me worried I had lost everything else on the machine. The third attempt worked and now I can confirm that this indeed had all occurred on a Sunday because I left the laptop to copy files as the wife and I made our weekly trek for groceries.

The laptop worked a few more times after that, but a week later I can't get a visual at all anymore, regardless of what I hook it up to.

The epic and mysterious demise of my laptop plays a big factor in most of the issues I am about to list but ultimately just about everything below is also at least partially my fault.

My podcast is toast as my only unlocked version of Audacity rests in the unaccessible C drive of my laptop. By unlocked I mean, set up so that the audio can be exported. This is Audacitys way of not getting sued for people who might use it to copy or otherwise redistribute copywritten material, the name of the third-party software needed for this? L.A.M.E. I'm not making this up and can only guess that this software was both made and named as a sort of a subtle middle finger to the frustrating law side of things. Of all the issues in this blog this particular "lame" one is the easiest to remedy, and most likely will be by the time you read this.

I can't speak highly enough about Audacity, it's free, give it a go. I've seen videos on YouTube boasting that they could teach the viewer how to make music exclusively with Audacity which I may very well have to do because my only copy of FL Studio was on my laptop. I've had mixed results and the software is very expensive and somewhat frustrating. Despite these frustrations, the laptop had all of my works in progress and a working copy. I'm sure I'm allowed to download another copy if I can find my original login info, but that is a very, very big 'if'.

The above, although also solvable has for at least the moment put a halt not only to the podcast but to any headway I was making in the music creation process.

The laptop also had the best speakers I own, so even after standing up Audacity and even FL loops my playback would be limited to the cheapest pair of speakers I could find at BestBuy when I received this pc, I must remind myself, as a gift.

Another hardware failure (I think) has befallen one of the converters that enables me to use old Nintendo controllers to play Tecmo and Super Tecmo Football on my computer. Therefore the two leagues I have with my family the Smitty Family Tecmo Football League and Smitty Family Classic Tecmo Football League are both on hold again, no long after a brief return to glory since receiving new NES controllers my old ones had been devoured by the puppy of the house. Even if I pony up the dough for another converter, there is no guarantee the issue will be alleviated as my PC seems to be very picky when it comes to USB devices, especially allowing two controllers, so both of those leagues are shelved.

In addition to my two family leagues I was working towards a third solo league which I could technically work on even without being able to use both controllers but the other big factor in all of these is the general feeling of fatigue and lack of motivation that permeates my very being both at work and once at home.

Another solo league the Simulation Axis Franchise Football League sits mothballed but like the above could be getting worked on. As of this writing, I think the last tweet or the pinned tweet sums things up pretty well.

My two other leagues the NAFL and AAFL are still tangled in a database failure combined with issues from the C# front end which was as you might guess it....on my laptop. So even if I was to untangle the corrupted database their still is the systemic issues on the C# front end, I managed to get the files off the laptop as it turns out....just in time, but I doubt the links to the backend database still work and programming at home is even less appealing on my PC than it was on my laptop.

When contemplating writing this I thought about keeping up the charade of each of these accounts being attributed to different entities, but I doubt few will make it to, let alone through this entire whiny blog (Hi mom! Hi wife!).

I have other leagues like the PFL and my college league but both suffer from the same front end C# dilemma as the NAFL and the AAFL that thankfully for you none of which I created a twitter account for. As it stands only one league is still playable without effort put into external issues.

My train set is also mothballed as the curve I went to fix resulted in an entire side of the basement long layout being ripped up. I've tried to cludge together the curve from scrap wood but I think it's best to obtain a fresh piece of particle board and borrow a truck from somebody and do the thing right, in the meantime, the mediation of watching my locomotives do laps around me is also gone. Of course me being me, I was developing software and a database backend for my fictional model railroad reality....on my laptop.

Yesterday the wife and I rearranged the bedroom but not without casualties, she suffered a strained back that had already been reeling and dropped something heavy on her foot. I never should have let her move anything on that back of hers, it sucks, but that one is one me 100% she can hardly walk. The room is much better in both arrangement and functionality but I feel the cost was too high.

Our two toddlers are a constant strain on time, energy and sanity. I tried to think of a way to sugar coat that but I really can't. It's not like I'm not grateful for them but anyone who has raised a toddler let alone two at the same time can appreciate the challenge.

Most of the time we have four dogs in the house as well, one of which made quick work of the carpet next to the door here in the bedroom, I don't really mind honestly but the bare wooden subflooring acts as another reminder that the house around me is collapsing. The state of the house is also my fault but that patch of flooring yells at me for my own lethargy, laziness, and downright sloth.

The carpet in the nearby master bedroom was yanked up in what was to be a fruitless search for what was soaking the carpet in there. And as I write this my wife is trying to get the toilet in there to stop running after my efforts were ultimately fruitless. Speaking of fruitless, the bathroom that will soon pass year ten of its own remodeling abandonment, a monument to my own failures as a homeowner has a ceiling bulging with water damage, a look at the flooring between the two bathrooms reveals another potential leak.

Two of the dogs in the house are being babysat for free more often then they're not, much like the toddlers they have their positives too but additional chaos is inevitable. At work, I have a  project that is overdue and barely survived last week even with the 4th of July holiday. A holiday that went better than I ever could have imagined but stressed out about big-time beforehand.

The last home-related issue is a strange spell that seems to have been cast on my entire household where everyone but me is either unwilling or unable to sleep in their own rooms, it's bizarre, but I had to throw that in there.

This is going to sound extremely narcissistic but I feel like work is a place where I exchange part of my life, almost all of my energy and my creative soul for a paycheck. Don't get me wrong, I love my job and as far as the line of work it's in I'm convinced it's the least-worst place to be.

Many apologies as this has turned into a whine-fest but some positives exist. I'm in the middle of a good book: Ready Player One whose reality escaping premise is a welcome escape if said escape can be achieved amid toddler and dog chaos. The price for this escape is what feels like a very self-indulgent story acting as a mirror reflecting my own desires back at my being, making them seem petty, narcissistic and ultimately implausible.

Rediscovering World of Warcraft is another escape but often hinders any progress on the other ventures I have listed here. WoW offers a much easier and less tedious dopamine hit which proves addicting in my usual tired state.

I took a class on self-publishing but my lack of energy combined with, believe it or not, my inability to create enough content to fill a book compounded by constant desire to switch and think up new projects has thus far proved fruitless.

More exists but believe it or not there are problems even I won't share publicly.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.

Paging Gary Numan

9/29/2018
1:05 PM

I feel comfortable here. According to a quick google before I went outside, the temperature outside the windows of my car is forty nine degrees. Overcast skies, one would say a feeling of coziness exists for me here. I know this feeling is short lived, I know I’ll have to go back, I know I’ll have to open the door, turn and face the cold, but for now, I’m cozy.

As I look out at the parking lot, a black car blocks my view in the stall across from mine. I utilize the passenger's seat for extra legroom and the interestingly unfamiliar feeling of being in a side of this car other than the driver's seat.

How did I get here? I’m not sure, I just know I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to go back to the place of darkness and cold. I don’t want to descend below ground where light is even more scarce than the overcast skies above me.

Something other than the cold exists in that place, something I cannot find the right words for. A sort of lonely sadness, mixed with a bit of nostalgia for something I can’t remember. I don’t feel like searching hard for the word because I don’t want to think about that place, and I’d be forced to do so in order to find the right word.

For now I am safe, I am away even if briefly. I dread the inevitable drag of the record player needle pulling the present back to a place where I am no longer here, no longer across from that black car, warmed by what little warmth somehow made the journey 93 million miles that last bit through dense cloud cover and into my car becoming trapped behind glass.

Perhaps the warmth doesn’t feel trapped, perhaps the warm is like me. Feeling cozy in here until the blanket of the outside world’s chill envelopes it into non existence.

The world will begin to die soon, as it does every October. I don’t look forward to this process, a reminder of the needle of time always moving closer to the end. With each cycle a fresh layer of fallen leaves, snow covered earth, the chill of early spring and the budding of new leaves, and at last the first warm breaths of summer, followed quickly by unrelenting heat. The heat slowly dissipates as the leaves start to turn and then fall once again.

I save this file, even close it, only to reopen it yet again. I have nothing more to say, nothing more to type, just sit and wait to pull that door handle and face the cold, on my own.

Digital Witness Breakdown

*Deep Breath*

Have you ever thought about doing something for so long that by the time you actually get to the point you are doing said thing that while it’s happening it seems surreal? Sort of a Deja Vu feeling but without any kind of mystery. You know why your mind is there because your mind has been there so many times before.

If any of the above makes any sense to you then you know where I am at this exact moment. I have been thinking, pondering, planning, daydreaming about this for years. I recently hinted about this in my latest podcast so now is finally launch day.

So many silent trips back and forth to Omaha thinking about this, being reminded whenever one of these songs comes on my shuffle, today is finally the day.

Here is what’s going to happen. I am going to break down a song lyrically. The original plan was to compare my interpretation to a website that is sort of a kin to Wikipedia for songs. People post what they believe the meaning to be line by line and things get removed/added/voted up and down. Theories get sited with interviews of the artist in question and normally what remains tends to make a lot of sense. However after finishing the first draft I tossed that portion out, but you’re still welcome to check my work if you like, the site is easy enough to find.

Long ago I had decided on St. Vincent’s “Digital Witness” to be the first song I broke down, but before we hit the lyrics something you should understand about St. Vincent or Annie or whatever you prefer I call her, she has given me every impression that she is an extremely private person. David Bryne of Talking Heads fame toured with her, made music with her and remarked afterwards that he didn’t know her any better after all of that then before any sort of collaboration had started. I say all of this because I’m a strong believer in motive, and the motive for this song lies heavily in Annie’s understandable desire for privacy. As if to cement my point further I happened onto a podcast where the host Marc Maron said he had seen pictures of her from early in her career. Like most non-vain humans she was embarassed when Marc asked why she said completely out of the blue "The Internet is a cemetery where nothing ever dies."

With that in mind let’s FINALLY get started:

Get back, to your seat

Get back, gnashing teeth

We’re a little slow getting on the anti-social media train, but traces of this sentiment still start early. Get back to your seat at the computer, in front of your phone, get back to gnashing your teeth. I’m guessing, the gnashing of teeth is a reference to the negative effect social media and especially Facebook has on people. They see all these wonderful things posted by friends, relatives, distant acquaintances and find themselves lacking. They compare themselves to this false ideal that even the people who are posting aren’t living up to. I’m no longer a very religious person but I am always in awe of the brilliance of the inclusion of the 9th commandment. “Thou Shall Not Covet”. This sin is right up there with stealing, murder, all kinds of really really bad things, so why is basically being jealous in there? Because this sin is sort of the marijuana of sins, greed, stealing, cheating all stem from wanting what someone else has. Facebook and other social media cause people to believe that everyone else has this perfect life, kids, looks, even dinner. People bite down on this effect hard, like a hungry fish on a hook.

I know I’ll get my feet put to the fire for talking religion but this is how I feel. Don't like it? Post about how angry it makes you on Facebook…..go ahead, I’ll wait,...maybe you’ll get little hits of dopamine in the form of likes. I wish you well,.....

Done? Okay we’re back.

Of course everyone looks amazing and put together on Facebook. No one is going to post “My son Donny is flunking Geometry and I caught him doing acid in the shed.” Okay, maybe some people will but this just leads us to our next line.

Ooh, I want all of your mind

I doubt Annie wants to know anything about anyone in a voyeuristic way but she needs to put a voice to this unspoken desire that HAS to exist for so many to share so much. She is sort of both mocking and trying to understand this desire to share everything there is about yourself, dumped out there to be indexed for all time on the internet, even your teenage son tripping balls in a shed. As if to say people actually believe everyone must know everything about them so someone out there must being saying, demanding everything in your mind be shared.

Before more social media bashing we take a short detour into reality TV

People turn the TV on, it looks just like a window, yeah

People turn the TV on, it looks just like a window, yeah

The success and longevity of reality TV is and always will be baffling to me, but in reality tv’s earliest form in things like MTV’s “The Real World” or “The Osbournes” you pretty much just have a camera rolling while people are living their lives, in other words a window. Yes, the genre has morphed into all kinds of things, even some entertaining things but when so much is produced, a shotgun blast effect has occurred. Something interesting was bound to be hit.

Yes the irony this genre is called “Reality TV” gets worse with each passing day. There was a time when people used TV to escape reality, to visit far away planets, to get invested in the lives of fictional characters, romances etc. Now the E! Channel literally has a show with a bunch of rich LA kids sitting across from each other drinking fancy lattes and having mind numbing conversation showcasing just how out of touch they are with the real world 99% of people live in.. So you went from an escape, a place where the imagination was stoked and the possibilities were endless to a boring window through which highly stylized version of life is presented as brain drain with no creative value whatsoever.

Wow, only three lines in,...I should have known this would happen. Luckily a lot of repetition occurs throughout the rest of the song.

Digital witnesses, what's the point of even sleeping?

If I can't show it, if you can't see me

What's the point of doing anything?

Annie finally gives a name to both the consumers and the producers of this content as “Digital Witnesses”. A hint of sardonic knife twisting is evident with “What’s the point of even sleeping?” A reference to the fact that the only time people seem to not be sharing every detail of their lives is while they are asleep.

I hadn’t thought of this before but I believe the next line is perhaps a call back to what was previously a bit of a mystifying line for me, the line about gnashing teeth. The frustration that comes with not enough people viewing all the content you are putting out there, not enough followers, likes, whatevers. If I don’t have enough people looking at every detail of my life then why should I bother doing anything at all? I’ve seen this in person, I’ve attended many chorus and band concerts of my stepdaughter and I look around and people are only viewing their children through their cameras. There is something to be said for just enjoying the moment. I make it a point to stop filming or just holding my video camera in place (yes a VIDEO camera, because I’m a grumpy old man who still doesn’t have a smartphone), because yes there is importance in capturing my step-daughters hard work, but you still have to actually LIVE your life from time to time instead of recording it.

I’m cheating a bit here, the next line is part of the above three lines before the next short instrumental break but I’m separating the line out because I believe we’re getting to the panic/horror part of the song.

This is no time for confessing

The digital witnesses are angry. Why are you questioning things? Get back to your seat, get back to making content. If you don’t have enough followers then you need to be sharing more and better things. We don’t have time for introspection or thought.

Now we’re getting dark. I really hadn’t realized just how dark until now, but I do believe this whole electronic pissing contest does have its victims. The only line in the next section that is different from what we’ve heard before is pretty stark, but I don’t think the line was intended to be that way. I think the line was meant to show to what great lengths people are spitballing in their heads to get some sort of edge in the digital witness game:

Digital witnesses, what's the point of even sleeping?

If I can't show it, if you can't see me

Watch me jump right off the London Bridge

This is no time for confessing

Next is more repetition. The lines that are different are worth breaking apart though so I’ll point that out.

People turn the TV on and throw it out the window, yeah

Get back to your stare

I care, but I don't care

Oh oh, I, I want all of your mind

Give me all of your mind

I want all of your mind

Give me all of it

x

At this point I believe Annie is hoping you’re getting what she is saying and the image of folks finally getting fed up and throwing that “window” out the “window” is cathartic and worth cheering for. Also worth noting is the double use of the word “window” as a tool as a means to fight back, instead of a creative prison, a portal to a land of no creative ideas.

Sadly though, the digital world isn’t going to give up that easy. Get back to staring at that window, at others’ lives, at sharing yours. The care but I don’t care is all part of the game in my opinion. People are on Facebook and pretend to care, feel obligated to like things they really don’t care about all in the hopes their things will be equally, hollowly (is that a word?) rewarded.

Digital witnesses, what's the point of even sleeping?

If I can't show it, if you can't see me

What's the point of doing anything?

What's the point of even sleeping?

So I stopped sleeping, yeah I stopped sleeping

Won't somebody sell me back to me?

The last two lines are the only new ones and they are some of the most powerful. Our digital witness has now given up on sleep, I don’t think literally. I think Annie is just sort of sarcastically pushing the obsession to the extreme but the line is necessary because the setup up for the final line is needed. Facebook operates by getting to know its users so they can advertise with smart bomb like accuracy. They are literally selling everything about you to everyone. That’s what I believe this line is saying in the literal sense, but I’d like to point out that like any good piece of poetry or lyrical content this piece is working on a number of levels and for the most part I’ve just scraped the top level off everything for this blog, otherwise this blog would be far, far too long. I will however hit the last line on more than one level because this line happens to be my favorite.

Won't somebody sell me back to me?

On the one hand you have the literal selling of one's information, the realization of just how much of yourself you’ve put out there for the whole world to see, for Facebook to monetize for advertisers. On the other you’ve created this persona online and worked so hard at perfecting, polishing this false image of yourself and your life that you no longer know who you really are and with terror beg to buy your real self back from the insatiable maw of Facebook's advertising algorithms.

Perhaps the thought has occured to you while reading this that I’m being hypocritical, yes I have a twitter account for my blog, yes I do wish more people would read this thing, yes my wife posts a link on Facebook hoping to get more readers. Does this make me a hypocrite? I begrudgingly agree to that to a certain extent.

This is what amazes me. I’ve been thinking about doing this type of blog and this particular song for all of these years and the one line that gave me trouble is now on about meaning number three or four but only after ACTUALLY beginning to write.

Gnashing Teeth

You can’t escape the digital witness game, even if you are an amazingly talented musician with tremendous guitar skills or you love to write and just want to get better. You still have to play the digital game, you still have to put yourself out there. Even if you feel as though what you’re making is more than just a window, more than just an instagram post by your co-worker’s cousin of the stir fry they just made for dinner.

After all, if I write it and no one reads it, what’s the point of writing anything?

Hallmark Train Movie

Many years ago, I sent out a poll where readers could vote on what I was going to blog about next. Time, and a failing memory, prevents me from recalling how many potential blogs were options, but I do remember two. One was how a failure in my central air resulted in extensive water damage and the other was something close to “Why Justin Bieber Should Be Thanked.”

I remember the water damage idea because one guy I worked with INSISTED I write a blog about my failed A/C. The topic in question didn’t get enough votes, but he was so persistent and such a loyal reader I gave the tale a go.

Only one problem……..I could sum up that whole debacle in one or two sentences. Even with my lack of home improvement knowledge to aid me, I can’t say much more than “The pan that catches the condensation inside the A/C thingy…………..it rusted through, ruined lots of drywall, cost lots of money, could have cost a lot more if I didn’t have a home warranty. The End.”

I even explained this in person to him, but he politely requested until the day I left that company ( or maybe he left first….my memory again….) that I write about the A/C failure.

Perhaps I should have vetted the ideas better, actually considered whether I could write a full blog about them first, or maybe I just assumed regardless of the topic I could go on and on with little to no input.

For example, now might be a good time to note I haven’t said a damn thing about about Hallmark Trains. Now is also a good time to mention, we’re still at least two, if not more, paragraphs away. Trust me, we’ll get through this together. Everything will work out in the end, just like every Hallmark movie, ever.

The other candidate was, “Why Justin Bieber Should Be thanked.”

This topic was a casualty of lack of votes, time and effort. During the time of voting, Mr. Bieber was at the peak of his heart throbbingness. Pre-teen and teen girls across the country were shrieking and going into hysterics at the mere mention of his name.

My thinking was as follows:

Perhaps “Thanked” is the wrong word, after all, I’m sure Mr. Bieber made truck loads of cash, but some things to consider:

1. I’m not a parent of a pre-teen or teen girl, but if I was, I would much rather she be enamored by someone who will never come within hundreds of miles of my flyover town. Those little shits down the street who smash our pumpkins every year and egg my house, THOSE are the little bastards who would be dangerously close to my little girl(s).

2. You can argue with me on this next point if you want, but his music doesn’t actually HURT anyone and makes/made lots of girls happy. If there wasn’t a market for it, his brand of mass produced, pre-manufactured market researched McDonald’s equivalent brand of pop music would not exist.

With those two never to be blogs in mind, we fast forward to a Sunday night during holiday season last year. My wife had passed out and the NFL game had just ended. Instead of jarring her awake by shutting the tv off, I switched to one of what I, and I believe she, considers one of her “Sleep Aid” channels; in this case, the Hallmark Channel.

During the holiday season, and what feels like the six months leading up to Christmas, Hallmark runs their made-for-TV holiday movies.

All of these movies follow the same format:

1. Someone lives in the big city and has a strong opinion about Christmas
2. That person winds up in a small town, either on accident or on purpose.
3. They fall in love with someone and either that person or the other person (whichever one hates Christmas) falls back in love with the season.
4. Said person stays in the small town to be with whomever they fell in love with. This big city person is either fired or quits their “Big City” job to start some sort of artsy fartsy shop.
5. Oh! Reminds me, I almost forgot the original negative opinion of Christmas turns out to be something tragic like their grandad died on Christmas after being eaten by radioactive reindeer or something… I’m just kidding, it’s usually something way more boring than that, but he totally croaks,.......always. So whatever grandad, and the traumatized-by-Christmas person did on Christmas, that’s the kind of shop they give up the big city to open.

After I started this blog, Daniel Tosh beat me to the punch of lampooning these movies and did a far better job than I ever could. Hilarious video and that’s what I get for taking two,...three….alright fine FOUR FIVE months to get this blog done.

So I’m gathering up my stuff, water bottle, cell phone, wiener dog, etc. when this particular movie catches my attention. I watch just long enough to acquire sufficient information to keep me up that night and unfortunately for you, make me want to write a very long winded blog.

I must preface this next part, I have nothing against these movies, if they’re your bag, your Justin Bieber I’m sorry. And just like Justin Bieber these movies are not for me, but I acknowledge they aren’t hurting anyone and some people enjoy them, and that’s okay.

Unfortunately in the past I have taken a little too much delight in mocking the established formulas of these movies and my wife refuses to watch them (at least while she’s conscious).

To summarize I’m sorry if I’m about to trash your favorite Hallmark movie and I’m sorry my sarcasm ruined these movies for my wife.

HOWEVER, when said movie involves trains and then causes me to stare at the ceiling for a half hour in disbelief after only seeing five minutes of the thing, the gloves are so incredibly off.

In my short time viewing this movie I learned that this modern day train is stuck in the mountains, no cell signal and the engineer can’t get a hold of anyone to let them know they are caught in a snow drift.

As I walked towards my bedroom an old man was handing out blankets on this holiday train to passengers, reassuring happy Christmas sweater wearing kids of every race who expressed concern “They wouldn't have Christmas Eve.” or “Santa wouldn’t find them”.

One of what I assume was one of the main characters remarks how good the old main is with children. Which reminds me of another rule these movies where there is always an old man who wanted to have kids but sadly never did for heart string  pulling reasons. This old man occasionally turns out to be Santa about 56% of the time. I didn’t watch this movie long enough to find out.

So let’s rehash the situation: A modern passenger train is completely off the grid. It’s full of Christmas trees and stupid sweaters and Christmas Joy.

Apparently nobody is looking for this train or care that they haven’t heard from it in hours. That has to be the case right? Otherwise never mind all the modern GPS equipment, internet access (which must also not be working) if you really couldn’t find a train…...FOLLOW THE TRACKS….LITERALLY…..IT’S ON TRACKS….it’s a TRAIN...not some 747 that could plummet into the vast Pacific ocean 5000 miles offshore never to be seen again.

Another thing to consider no direct long distance passenger service currently exists in the US. So for example if you take Amtrak from Chicago to Seattle it’s going to stop at every town with the slightest semblance of a station.

I can't help but picture a man sauntering up to one of those tiny one room stations, like the one in McCook where Amtrak barely slows down at 4 am….He proceeds to stand there and wait,...no train. He looks at his watch, "Mhmmm.....my train was supposed to be here three days ago,.....Oh well , I'm sure everything is fine" he says to himself as he returns to the parking lot, gets in his car and just drives home.

Or maybe he talks to the station master before returning to his car....

"Yeah,.....hi.....I bought a ticket for train #113 three days ago,....and it never...um….you know…..showed up......is something wrong?"

The station master at least in my imagination is almost like a static and robotic dead behind the eyes post office employee with a five o'clock shadow and an inability to blink. He possesses all the personality of a plastic piece of fruit.

His response "Yeah, we have no idea where it is."

Confused the man replies. "So are you guys looking for it or......"

"Nah, not really" the station master replies flatly.

"Can't you track it down somehow? Is there like a radar but for trains?" asks the trainless ticket holder.

"What a stupid question to ask,........and you are a stupid person for asking, everybody knows trains can only be tracked visually."

"Really!?"

"Really" echos the station master adding ".....and while we're just making shit up, fun fact:Trains vision is based on movement, so if you see one stand still so it can't see you, otherwise it might eat you."

Okay, so I went a little overboard with my fictional scenario, but we had fun with it didn't we?

In truth trains are dispatched at places like the Harriman Center in Omaha.

Think air traffic control…..only for trains. The center is also called "the bunker" to those in the know (for example people with Wikipedia) because the building was built to withstand a number of natural and man made disasters, including tornadoes. This is because if the bunker went dark all the trains on Union Pacific's 32,100ish miles of track would come to (hopefully) a complete stop. Either that or they would all crash into each other, not to mention all the other railroads Union Pacific shares track with, crosses the path of other railroads….etc.  

Why is this necessary? Well in real life the rail line to train ratio isn't 1:1 as indicated in the movie. What I'm getting at is that by being "stuck" in the snow this train is blocking trains on either side of it from getting to their destination, like a broke down pick-up with its hood up and steam rolling out, only there are no other lanes and cars are backed up on either side blocked and blaring their horns.

Don't get me wrong in the past, the distant past, say when train travel was the only way to get around, mountain railroading was dangerous and unfortunately deadly, think pre-1900s, maybe there were incidents after that but think of the amount of technological innovation in the last 120 years. I think this train wouldn't be stuck for long.

Like I said things did happen, enough in fact that they had "snow sheds", effectively man made wooden tunnels where trains could sit if avalanches were a danger.

Now though I know rail nerds like myself who go hiking looking for traces of these no longer needed structures always on rail lines that were replaced and abandoned when more direct and less dangerous lines were built.

Two more gripes and then I'll wrap this up. Snow clearing rail lines are a rare and awesome site. Very rarely are blowers needed usually just plows can do the job but when a blower is in action they are a site to see ← also a good video to see just how deep snow has to get before it’s a ‘blower’ problem.

I recently came across a post from a guy in North Dakota. He has lived there his entire life and just recently saw a plow for the first time. Keep in mind this is in NORTH *$@#ing DAKOTA, and he’s only see a train snow plow ONCE in his life.

Like I mentioned earlier even plows aren't needed much as locomotives are plenty powerful on their own, Just don't be standing too close to the platform*.

The last concern of our holiday passengers is that "The train only has enough 'gas?'  (I can't remember the exact wording. ) to keep the train warm and have electricity for a dangerously short amount of time.

Bullshit.

In the late 90's a surprise early october freeze caught heavy full foliage trees across the state of Nebraska in shock. The weight of the ice and snow brought down heavy branches and even entire trees. Even in Lincoln we were without power for at least a day or two.

Rural small towns were not so lucky. Many small town faced weeks without power. One lucky small town was rescued by an unlikely source, a Union Pacific GP38-2. They plugged the locomotive into the grid and the ENTIRE TOWN had enough power for as long as they needed it.

Some things to know about the GP38-2. If it was a car it would be a compact car, a two door hatchback that your dad used to teach you to drive a stick. In other words, not the unworldly fuel efficient pollution standards meeting, wonders of modern science monsters that currently roam the mainlines of America's freight hauling tracks (part 2).

Trains magazine did a piece on the most American Locomotive, what they should have called it was 'most ordinary'.

To find this most American Locomotive the process went something like this:

1. Find the most manufactured operating locomotive
2. Find the company that has ordered the most of that model
3. Pick one of that company's fleet.

They then adorned it with a plaque on it's side under the side windows.

There may have been more logic on picking that exact locomotive, but I can't remember. The thing wore it's plaque for a while, had an article published about it and is now probably scrapped.

So you have a small, extremely ordinary locomotive powering an entire town. This is a P42 Genesis, the locomotive of choice for Amtrak's long distance trains, usually two adorn the front of most passenger trains. I doubt they even need two, more likely a fail safe in case one breaks down.....say....in the mountains,.....in the snow......just sayin'......

Like most GE locomotives the “42” is short for that many hundreds of horsepower so... 4200 horsepower (the “P” is for Passenger service in case you care). For comparison the little GP38-2 maxes out at 2000 horsepower. So one P42 has a little more than twice the the horsepower a locomotive that kept the electricity of a small town going for weeks, and this Holiday train most likely has two P42, so…..8400 horsepower.

I think that train could more than keep the lights on and the train warm for some time.

All of this train talk coming from a guy who can happily watch YouTube videos of simply trains rolling by. Not the biggest sin when one considers some of the content on YouTube.

Still, most people who encounter a train in real life greet such an event with annoyance and could never understand why someone would willfully watch videos of trains on YouTube.

Just like my co-worker who wanted so badly to hear about the demise of my A/C unit or a twelve year old listening to Justin Bieber,  people want what they want. When such a need arises the content will usually be provided.

Such a need exists for these Hallmark movies because lots of people enjoy them. Therefore, Hallmark keeps making them.

Comparing apples to apples, myself watching YouTube videos might lose out to Hallmark movies on the "you're a dork" scale. At least the Hallmark movies have a plot, unlike a coal train rolling by.

In the end nobody should have to apologize for what they are into as long as it's legal and moral. Just make sure you have your facts straight if you're going to bring up trains, otherwise the gloves come off, the train nerd glasses come on and you might get a long winded blog as a result.

* =Post blog test,....can you guess what kind of locomotive this is?