• goodbadi

    Lost in Transcription

    My church friend who worked on our car for us last week left a Google Voice message to say it was ready. The transcription:

    Hello Mr. ….. Damn. What. What. Your your vehicle is done. You wanna pick it up after tomorrow, that’d be great. If not, well that if I do bye bye.

  • goodbadi

    Stereo Ethics

    I’ve written before about posting want ads to my school system’s county-wide classifieds service. Since then I’ve actually sold and bought a few things. It’s a great work perk even though it is immensely distracting: I check it every time the “new message” indicator flags, because good deals go fast.

    Recently I was too slow to grab the “make an offer, make a trade, or free” ceiling fan, but I was totally on the ball for the “free stereo.” I emailed the lady right away, and she responded promptly:

    I don’t think my daughter mentioned that this sound system does not play cds – just 78 records, cassettes and has a really good radio. It was a great system when my husband bought it, because he always bought high quality electronics.


    It has two free-standing speakers that are several feet tall and can blare through the house. The system, itself is in layers and on a special wooden stand that John has made for it. Due to retirement and dementia, John has not used the sound system for about six years. It is sitting in his office in our downstairs, but is in excellent condition.


    Would you like me to send pictures this evening?

    Pictures? Not necessary. For free, this sounded way too promising.

    A few days later M and I had an evening out, and we stopped by the lady’s house to pick up the stereo. By this time I’d convinced myself that it would be a piece-of-crap electronical setup that I’d test, dislike, and take to the landfill, and the idea of wasting precious date time on someone else’s trash was already annoying me.

    But then I saw the system: fancy-looking speakers of a brand I’d never heard of before, huge surround sound digital receiver with more ins-and-outs than you can shake a remoteless finger at, a 3-head cassette player and recorder with every bell and whistle I’ve ever imagined, an “automatic turntable system,” and….

    “Oh, it does have a CD player,” I said to the lady, who I’d learned works at the same university from which her husband retired. She’d gotten him to stay in their bedroom upstairs; occasionally I heard him call, “Honey, Is everything okay?”

    “Maybe we should hurry,” she said, “before he comes out. I don’t know how he’d take me getting rid of his stereo.”

    “I wasn’t expecting the CD player,” I said. “Do you want to keep it?”

    “I don’t know if it works,” she said. “If I’d have known that the system had a working CD player, I would have sold it. But you just take it all.”

    “Are you sure? This is a really nice system.”

    “Yes, it is. John always bought the best. We would blast Christmas music through the whole house from down here in his study.”

    I didn’t argue anymore about the CD player, of course–it was a six-disc changer–and we loaded it all up in our van and drove away.

    After setting it up the next day, I said to M, “This is the stereo system I’ve dreamed my whole life of having.” We blasted Handel’s Messiah through the house in honor of the lady’s Christmas memories, and I emailed her to thank her again.

    But I was in a bit of moral quandary: Did the lady really know what she was getting rid of, for free? Was I taking advantage of a semi-old lady with a dementia-inflicted husband? Should I offer her some money even though I wouldn’t have taken the system except for the fact it was free?

    And she really did seem happy that it was going to someone appreciative.

    And I may be able to return the favor, as she emailed a couple days later to see if I could help her set up her laptop when she gets one. I said I’d be happy to, of course, but what’s there to do in a laptop setup?

    Anyway, I just now got to some price checking on ebay, and it looks like this whole system used is worth about $225 for the components and as much for the speakers.

    Do I send her some money?

  • goodbadi

    Power

    Last night I tried to convince M I need a Nexus 7 so I can read Lynn Miller’s The Power of Enough, which I now realize isn’t even available as an e-book.

    She didn’t buy it.

  • goodbadi

    Quest to Be Better, Different Nets Newer Same Old

    Ubuntu is cool, sleek, slim, chic, sexy, all of that. Plus it’s free, can run (slowly) off a CD, has a huge community of support, doesn’t require virus protection, and is slim, chic, sexy, and all of that. In the name of speeding up, glamorizing and expanding my digital experience while at the same time not spending money on a new computer, I decided to scrap Windows and go all Linux. Yippee!

    However, after backing up my original configuration and swiping my hard drive, then installing that epitome of coolness and all that, I realized (yet again–I’d tried this before) its drawbacks for a simple user like me: while I can pretty much be okay without Photoshop even though Ubuntu’s GIMP isn’t quite as polished, and while I can (albeit begrudgingly) live without iTunes, I simply can’t live without Picasa (which Ubuntu/WINE doesn’t seem to fully support).

    Furthermore, my video card upgrade upgrade wasn’t compatible with my computer’s specs and so I was left with quite crappily choppy graphics even after trying a lot of Ubuntu workarounds: Even after all my operating system shenanigans and hardware improvement attempts, I was faced with troublesomeness, both in terms of the video card and the fact that there is no way I want to spend my life working around when I’d rather be writing, or just doing whatever is the task at hand.

    And so, since work in order to do work is a waste of my working brain space, a new computer–sporting Windows 8–is on its way home to me.

  • goodbadi

    Meaning

    My electoral relief in spite of my personal vote’s insignificance as only 1/1,191,420 of the Libertarians’ 1% that needed to be 5% in order to bring about any real change didn’t mean my computer problems went away. 


    In fact, the new monitor I ordered, as our old one had fallen into a state of compulsive self destruction, very quickly highlighted the fact that the video card I just installed to free my world of green tint doesn’t support high enough resolution, and isn’t really supported by my version of Vista, either: I’ve sent away for an upgrade to my video card upgrade.


    I’m also awaiting the new hard drive that I ordered as a replacement to one that I had ordered to replace my original; that first replacement, according to a computer lackey relative, seemed to be defective, so I coughed up the $2.80 to mail it back. Thankfully the price on Amazon for a new one had dropped enough so that even with having to pay shipping on the return, I’m getting a new one for, all told, a bit cheaper, by twenty-one cents. 


    And in the process of continuing to fiddle with my current hard drive, I realized that the original drive probably wasn’t very defective after all–I was able to recreate its most notable problem on my own, with just myself and my original drive, which I then had to restore from my backup for about the fourth time, twenty-hour process though it may be.


    In the midst of such noteworthy events, National Geographic sent us a ridiculously tempting offer to subscribe for a year plus freebies for just under $16, our now gravel-covered driveway courtesy of my grandparents makes coming to our house less an economic boon for the local Land Rover dealer and more cushy-cushy, and a furry little friend chose somewhere in our upstairs bathroom wall or ceiling to rest once and for all, perhaps knowing that only in such secluded death could its presence in our house be both noticed and unharassed. 


    Of course meaning in life comes less–if at all–from any such things, and more from moments such as these:


  • goodbadi

    Google Google

    Not long before Godaddy got hacked and taken down for a few hours the other day, I noticed that my band’s website domain wasn’t working quite right. Even after the company had fully recovered, I just couldn’t get things fixed. I fiddled with relevant settings throughout much of the day, and finally, after I should have been in bed for the night, I called Godaddy’s support line.

    The nice man put me on hold while he investigated the situation, but then only had this to say: “I see nothing wrong here. I think the problem might be on Google’s end of things, since your domain is registered through Blogger,” he said. “It looks like you’ll have to call Google to see if they can help, since everything checks out fine on this end of things.”

    “Call Google?” I said. “Umm, how can I call Google? Do you have a phone number?”

    “I don’t,” he said. “I guess you’ll have to, uh”–and here his voice shaped an ironic smile–”Google that.”

    (Epilogue: In my search for assistance, I came across a notice stating that the issue I was calling about was known. It was, in fact, a Google problem, and is still being worked on.)