Featherbuster

Went for a walk with the family recently to enjoy the improving weather. I heard a flurry of wing beats, and across my vision I saw a mourning dove dart, frantically accelerating against the measured, yet lethal, pursuit of a hawk. The erratic gyrations of the dove succeeded in sending the hawk on a bad bearing, allowing the dove to reach top speed and find cover. On our next lap through the neighborhood, I saw a clump of dove feathers on the ground where the strike presumably occurred. The lesson, as always: Be the hawk.

The Coolest Three Word Conversation Ever

I went down to the shipyard today, with every other engineer from my group in tow, to check out a giant test fixture that had just returned from shock testing in Virginia. It was a great trip. On the return to our building, we walked by a few conex boxes (the size of a mobile home) that some crews were working out of. One had a painter (judging by his coveralls) sitting in the doorway in a folding chair, soaking up the gorgeous sunshine. Being the point man (or mother goose for the goslings that followed my steps to avoid getting lost or into trouble), I threw a quick wave and a disarming smile to the gentleman, a dignified, middle-aged black man. This is a quick signal that "We engineers are frightened and confused by the primitive ways of the shipyard, and are only moving through peacefully in search of air conditioned offices with coffee makers.". The painter, obviously gathering my meaning, nodded behind his reflective sunglasses and simply said with a deliberate, basso profundo:
"What it is."
Seriously. I haven't heard that phrase uttered un-ironically in decades. Not only that, it perfectly summed up this individual's all-out lounging and laissez-faire attitude toward our band of interlopers in his world. No further conversation was helpful, desired, or necessary. Indeed.

Mess With The Bull...

I am a huge fan of horns. Not all of them. Saxophones, for instance, are the coolest thing going, especially when coupled with a sharp suit jacket and sunglasses at night, but I'm not much for most brass or woodwinds. I refer primarily to signal horns of days gone by. Most of them I imagine to look something like this:

This whole fascination was kicked off in my work cubicle about 2 years ago when this commercial for Snickers came out. Pure genius. Of course, every time somebody sat down to eat lunch or drink a caffeinated beverage, and imaginary feast horn was sounded. We actually got pretty good at imitating it. Well, turnover at work being what it is (or was, I should say, since attrition has dropped virtually to zero in the current economy), I found myself surrounded at work by new guys who didn't have the proper knowledge or respect for the significance of the horn's call. That's where the brilliance of the Internet ("now on computers!") came in. Check this out (sorry, you have to cut & past into your browser, no linking):

http://www.audiblebeauty.net/do-not-link/king/hardhrim_horn.wav
http://www.audiblebeauty.net/do-not-link/fellowship/horngondor.wav
http://www.audiblebeauty.net/do-not-link/king/rohan_horn.wav
http://www.audiblebeauty.net/do-not-link/towers/eldarhorn.wav

All the guys I sit with are now on board, now that I have these files to play at-will while working, and often when somebody enters or exits our cubicle an appropriate horn is sounded.

Oh, and did I mention that Warhammer: Dark Omen has a horn as a butt-kicking item for your armies to use? I still have to write about that game. One day soon...

The Lesson, As Always...

• Lifting weights is good. The zoo is good. But combining the two by carrying 70 lbs of kids at the giraffe exhibit is exhausting.
• Committing yourself to work through diligence, education, and humility brings crushing workloads and frustration.
• Committing yourself to work through diligence, education, and humility brings recognition and personal satisfaction.
• Reconciling the previous two points is a daunting endeavor, to say the least.
• Selling your house is much easier when you pick a realtor who is familiar with your segment of the market, you have put some effort into the house, and your Wifey is able to commit copious amounts of time making it sparkle for showing it to prospective buyers.
• Through either age, lack of other talent, or some other sort of doom, it's inevitable that I will be a softball pitcher (slow-pitch).
• The Office is still just about the best thing going on television.
• When holding hostages, the Naval warship is not really offering to throw you a line to help you weather high seas.
• And the flashes in the sunlight are not from men holding binoculars, but rifle scopes.
• Our latest word of the day at work: chicanery
• Just because: Turtle Man. I heart the Rebel Yell. Closing word to the wise: don't choose ponds on farms to hunt snappers, you don't want to know what rinses into them.
  

Not Even Disappointed

At least the MSU Spartan b-ball team were gracious hosts, allowing the UNC Tar Heels to put up 55 points in the first half. After about 10 minutes, the Spartan players looked like extras from the Omaha Beach scene of Saving Private Ryan. UNC deserved it, what a juggernaut!

Now it's time to contemplate the overrated, overhyped, yet still intriguing NFL draft and the beginning of the church softball season.

Men Of Sparta!

I live in UConn Huskie turf, no doubt about it. But tonight, compliments of the Michigan State Spartans basketball team, there is no doubt who is top dog. No, I did not attend MSU, and I do not regret that decision. But I did get accepted there during high school to study chemical engineering, and I watched many Spartan games as a child to cheer them on, so I can claim a connection. Bravo, Spartans, bravo.