The King of Pointland

Mt. Pleasant, 11:05 PM

If you would like to laugh out loud, here's what to do. Head on over to your nearest 7-Eleven. As you approach, try to imagine the expression on the Incredible Hulk's face when he absolutely must have a 7-Eleven hot dog, right now. Walk up to the hot dog display. Enjoy.

Requiem

Thanks to a kind friend and her father, it was my good fortune to spend much of Saturday out on the Chesapeake Bay, perched atop the tower of the St. Jelin as she raced from Baltimore to Annapolis and back. Striking a handsome pose in my red Phillies cap and sunglasses, I waved to passing sailboats, barges, tankers, and seagulls alike; and, as the wind beat against my face, I thought, "This is the life!"

If the waters were a bit choppy, then that made it all the more exciting, the crest of each wave transmitting a jolt of energy through the vessel and directly into my soul! Gripping the frame of the tower, I cocked my head back and grinned ear to ear.

At which point an especially strong gust caught the bill of my cap like a sail, and, before I could turn around, sent my hat into the roiling waters. I watched the only memento of my final trip to Veterans Stadium grow smaller and smaller as it faded into the distance, a bright red spec against an immense field of blue.

I felt, at first, a pang of remorse. I had been cocky, even insolent, and the sea would not be denied its retribution. And was it that fierce wind, or the agony of loss, that then brought a tear to my eye? I do not know.

When my friends later learned of the events aboard the St. Jelin, they asked why I did not have the boat turned around. But by then I had made my peace with the Sea, and with my Hat.

Goodbye, Red Cap. I will never forget our time together these two months. You helped me keep warm the very day I bought you, you soaked up the sweat and kept the sun at bay when I mowed the lawn, and, most important, you proudly proclaimed to the world my loyalty to those Comeback Kids, the Philadelphia Phillies.

Do not go gentle into that good night, my friend. Be proud, and remember, I will miss you, always.

Angry Teenage Nanobots: Rejoice!

The world's smallest guitar is 10 micrometers long -- about the size of a single cell -- with six strings each about 50 nanometers, or 100 atoms, wide.

David's Complaint

Suddenly it was nine o'clock and everything was scurrying. Wobbly-heeled girls revolved through the doors of the telephone building across the way, traffic honked desperately, policemen barked, whisteled, and waved motorists to and fro. Over at St. Vincent's Church the huge dark portals swung back and those bleary-eyes that had risen early for Mass now blinked at the light. Then the worshipers had stepped off the church steps and were racing down the streets towards desks, filing cabinets, secretries, bosses, and -- if the Lord had seen fit to remove a mite of harshness from their lives -- to the comfort of air-conditioners pumping at their windows. . .

From Goodbye, Columbus by Philip Roth

No air-conditioning for me until at least Wednesday.

I have a nice big fan, though, and a cool bottle of water. I'm all right.

Fur

Driving home through the pouring rain this evening, visions of the sandwich I would make for dinner danced through my head. On Sunday I purchased a lovely brown loaf of unsliced bread from the bakery at Safeway, along with Mozzarella, fresh basil, and plum tomatoes. With these ingredients, and some extra-virgin olive oil, I have been making what I imagine to be a close cousin of the sandwich you may have seen advertized at Starbucks everywhere in the past few weeks.

It's quite tasty.

I hadn't made a the sandwich since Monday evening, having dined out the past two nights (Franklins, Chipotle takeout at Chez Farrington). Very enjoyable, but I was looking forward to eating my simple creation in front of Jim Lehrer and the gang.

Imagine my horror, then, when I picked up the bagged loaf to find it covered in furry green mold. And the smell!

My evening is ruined. I made the sandwich anyway, with some stale bread that's been in the fridge for months (really). Not the same at all. Thanks very much, common bread mold.

I Can't Hear It

Mourning the Death of American Radio. But you knew this already.

I've been listenning to KEXP, a public radio station from Seattle, when I'm not listenning to WMUC. Internet radio really seems to be where it's at these days. Just last year, it looked like an endangered species, when the U.S. Copyright office settled on unreasonably high licensing fees for music webcasting. Instead of charging a fraction of revenue, as is done with over-the-air radio, the plan would have required all webcasters to pay a fixed fee per song, per listener, at a rate that would have driven all but the big commercial interests off the Net.

Sometimes the system works, though. Responding to the pleas of small webcasters and listeners, Congress passed the Small Webcaster Settlement Act, and last week, college broadcasters and the recording industry came to an agreement that seems to please both sides, more or less.

iPaid

When I woke this morning I had no intention of purchasing an iPod. Now I own one. How did this happen?

Here is how this happened: Goat wanted a laptop, a PowerBook G4 to be precise, and I tagged along with him to the Apple Store in Tysons Corner. [Yes, this entire entry is an ad for Apple. ] The helpful salesman, a gentlemen in his fifties or sixties, informed us that as an employee of an institution of higher learning, I was entitled to a $150 discount on the purchase of a Powerbook. And a $30 discount on the purchase of an iPod. And an additional $200 mail-in rebate on the purchase of a a Powerbook and an iPod at the same time.

How could I turn down a $200 discount? I couldn't.

It's just a thing, a chunk of metal and plastic. But as chunks of metal and plastic go, it's one of the more beautifully designed I've seen. Even the packaging is pleasurable to behold, with the possible exception of the plastic sleeve, printed with this command:

Don't steal music.
Ne volez pas la musique.
Bitte keine Musik stehlen.
<chinese> <korean>

How can I not steal music after reading that?