The Real Back to the Future, Future Date
Some people were fooled yesterday into believing that June 27th, 2012 was future date Marty traveled to. Fortunately I have the real screen shot. You are welcome.
How The Frack do I do the Turing Google Doodle?
How The Frack do I do the Turing Google Doodle? I don't know. And you can't ask Turing because he killed himself because assholes can't seem to let people live their lives as they see fit.
My friend Jon did figured it out:
"Match the digits on the tape to those in the upper-right. Instruction execution moves to the right. Big arrows move the tape, 1s and 0s change the digit, small arrows with boxes are IF conditions that test the state of a digit, and arced arrows jump back to a different instruction. Match all digits, and you add a letter to "Google." Fill the entire word, and you get a prize!"
My friend Jon did figured it out:
"Match the digits on the tape to those in the upper-right. Instruction execution moves to the right. Big arrows move the tape, 1s and 0s change the digit, small arrows with boxes are IF conditions that test the state of a digit, and arced arrows jump back to a different instruction. Match all digits, and you add a letter to "Google." Fill the entire word, and you get a prize!"
A Third Scenario
I am impressionable. Almost immediately so. I have visceral reactions to most
everything. Most commercials get their intended
emotional knee jerk from me, even if some made up scenario of a dad handing his
kid a baseball mitt to pass on to his son is completely cheesy, I’ll still get choked
up. For there to be any analysis of a given situation, I need time to dwell on
it. I’m one of those sleep on it guys. Then
the next day, I’m callous and snarky about most everything.
In 1999, I worked for a science museum
and a small team of characters had been gathered to develop, design, build and
install exhibits for the museum which was going to be built in a new facility a
mile from the old building. We had some seasoned veterans and some comical
upstarts. Some people who did the job for the love of it, some for the paycheck
and others who will never take the credit they deserve for their hard
work.
Joe was our leader and each exhibit
area had a producer with associate producers and production assistants. I was a lowly production assistant. I made
copies of blue prints and fart noises. We worked really hard. Some people had families to take care of and
great sacrifices were made. Some of us drank a lot more than others. “I can
drink a lot more!” We all coped in our own way.
I think it was June when Joe
gathered us together. The designers, producers, exhibit technicians, engineers,
writers… the whole team. And while this
will never be a word for word recollection, it’s how I remember it.
Joe reminded us of the date. It was June and we had about 16 weeks left
until the Gala Opening event. The
building had been behind in construction, so the installation of our exhibits
had been pushed way back. It wasn’t our
fault except in many of the situations where it was. It was easy to lay blame on construction
delays and harder to look at ourselves to see where we had imposed our own obstructions.
Joe said that there were now two
scenarios. In consultation with project teams and the General Contractor and
the board, our team was given two options.
Scenario one has us opening the
building on time, but with unfinished galleries. We could make the decision now to hold off on
one or two key areas, focus our efforts on getting most of the exhibits open
and then once the building was open, we would complete the other
galleries. Some exhibits would not be
open, but maybe people wouldn’t notice as much.
Scenario two had us completing all the
exhibits, but pushing the opening date back by a number of weeks. The building would open at 100% completion
and the guests would just need to be delayed by a month. People understand that there are delays with
construction and no one would completely blame our team for the delay.
Those were the two scenarios. Take your
pick.
But then Joe, in the way that Joe does,
said, “But I see a third scenario. A scenario where we finish all the galleries
and we open on time.” We would need
to begin installation in a building that was not finished. We’d have to work around contractors. There would be many late nights and families
would be inconvenienced. The construction workers didn’t like us underfoot and
didn’t like to work beside our contractors. The elevators weren’t all finished
and after hours we’d have to carry things up stairs. It would be extremely
difficult.
But Joe thought that we could do it. And I believed him. And others believed him.
And we did.
Sure, many of the graphics on the walls we made
out of foam core and there were a few exhibits that just couldn’t be at 100%.
The smell of drying paint and scraps of double sticky tape were abundant.
But we did it. We opened all the exhibit areas in
time for the grand opening.
The reviews of our new museum were mixed and still
are today. We learned many lessons from that experience.
What I know is that in the late 90s, a team of
people did what many said could not be done. I’ve slept on that speech and it
stays with me to this day. It’s given me the mantra of, “When given two
choices, take the third.” I still think about that team of folk and I have the
good fortune of working with some of them today. Joe is still my boss. Allen
and Neil are still not taking the credit they deserve. Randy is getting ready to
retire. We still do some work with Dan. Steve is coming back on board to run
the engineering department. And sometimes
Whitt will write words for us the way that only he can.
And then there’s me. Sometimes I wonder what I am
doing here. My title says I am a project manager. A lot of times I think that I’m
just the guy who derails meetings and tells the same stories over and over. I’m
making the same mistakes I did 15 years ago. Making the same excuses. But I’m
also still discovering new ideas. Fresh
ideas for interactives. I’ll always be the MacGyver type, being able to work
with a small amount of resources to accomplish a task. I don’t know anyone
better than I am at making something that is 12ft wide fit down a 10ft hallway.
I’ll always be there to tell you to watch your fingers and watch your toes.
So either I am a project manager or I am not a
project manager.
Sometimes I wonder what my third scenario is.
Clancy's
I spent a good bit of 1997 and 1998 at a bar called Clancy's. Handsome Joe and I accidentally found it one night in German Village. You had to head down stairs under the Police union to get there. It was damp. There were a few video games and a bar that were all completely underwhelmed by the dance floor with the mirrors and the pole. It wasn't a stripper pole, it was just holding up the ceiling, but that didn't keep dirty girls from using it.
Clancy's had a 32oz mug special. You'd buy a mug full of beer for $2.50 and refills were $1.00.
For almost a year and a half, we spent every Thursday at Clancy's.
It's where "Two Many Witnesses" was born.
Where the infamous photo of the Powers That Be was taken.
It's back when Andy used to come out drinking.
When Will Smith was only a double threat.
When Packy used to know all the words to "Freaks of the Industry."
It was before Jenn, and also before we lost Jenni.
And on the night they closed forever, Jen and Joe stole pool balls and a sign that guided people to the back door. They gave me an 8 ball with the date on it. Let me go find it... I found it and the date has been rubbed off. Funny, you can tell it's Red Haired Jen's writing.
For a long time, we tried to find a replacement to Clancy's. And we gave up, because there could never be a replacement for Clancy's.
And then we found Skully's. And no one ever mentioned Clancy's again.
Until now.
We miss you Clancy's. But only because we miss being 27 and stupid. And we miss 32oz beers for a dollar.
Good night dirty girls.
Good night shoot um up video game.
Good night humidity.
Good night Will Smith.
Good night Sugar Ray.
Good night 32oz beers.
Good night Jenni.
Good night Pole.
Good night Two Many Witnesses.
Good night Clancy's. Good night.
Clancy's had a 32oz mug special. You'd buy a mug full of beer for $2.50 and refills were $1.00.
For almost a year and a half, we spent every Thursday at Clancy's.
It's where "Two Many Witnesses" was born.
Where the infamous photo of the Powers That Be was taken.
It's back when Andy used to come out drinking.
When Will Smith was only a double threat.
When Packy used to know all the words to "Freaks of the Industry."
It was before Jenn, and also before we lost Jenni.
And on the night they closed forever, Jen and Joe stole pool balls and a sign that guided people to the back door. They gave me an 8 ball with the date on it. Let me go find it... I found it and the date has been rubbed off. Funny, you can tell it's Red Haired Jen's writing.
For a long time, we tried to find a replacement to Clancy's. And we gave up, because there could never be a replacement for Clancy's.
And then we found Skully's. And no one ever mentioned Clancy's again.
Until now.
We miss you Clancy's. But only because we miss being 27 and stupid. And we miss 32oz beers for a dollar.
Good night dirty girls.
Good night shoot um up video game.
Good night humidity.
Good night Will Smith.
Good night Sugar Ray.
Good night 32oz beers.
Good night Jenni.
Good night Pole.
Good night Two Many Witnesses.
Good night Clancy's. Good night.
Don't ever...
Don't ever write about writing. No one wants to hear about that. Even once you have become a successful writer, people don't want to hear about how you put words on paper. They just want the words.
Aunt Betty is turning 80. She would have been 38 when I was born. She'll live to be 105 because she doesn't have time to be bothered with dying. Aunt Betty sends birthday cards to me and my kids without fault. They might be late, but she admits it. I think I was 17 when she stopped slipping a $5 bill into those cards. That was probably the first inkling I had that I might becoming an adult.
Aunt Betty is great at Scrabble. She's very Catholic. She is probably disappointed in me, but would never let it show.
We moved away from New York when I was very young. Every summer we would travel back home. I remember Aunt Betty's back yard was full of mosquitoes if you ventured too close to the trees in the back of the yard. Her son had the most amazing Lord of the Rings poster in the basement. I think it was Lord of the Rings. It might have been a Led Zeppelin poster.
Her next door neighbor girl was at least four years older than me. She once pretended that I was her boyfriend to make another neighbor kid jealous. That five minutes is burned into my memory. Her slanted driveway. She was wearing yellow shorts. She put her arm around me and claimed we were boyfriend and girlfriend. There was a broken lawn chair on the curb waiting for the trash men. I played it cool. Or maybe I was scared shitless. Either way, she was off after the boy in five minutes. I might have waited an hour for her to come back. Years later I saw her again. She remembered me but only so. I don't think she remembered the "boyfriend" thing. I can't seem to forget.
In her most recent birthday card to me, Aunt Betty mentioned that she didn't really have a computer, but if she did, she'd look up my blog and give it a read. While I stand behind ever letter and word and phrase and paragraph and Jesus comic I've written, I think I would be embarrassed for her to read all of this nonsense. She would probably laugh. She does have a good sense of humor and, by Catholic Law, has to forgive me for my sins.
Aunt Betty is having a surprise birthday party thrown for her next weekend in New York. Sally suggested we go. 12 hours there. 12 hours back. It would be hellish. And totally worth it.
Happy Birthday, Aunt Betty!
And if between now and next Saturday you do get the internet and read this horrible web site, I'm sorry I ruined the surprise. Forgive me.
Aunt Betty is turning 80. She would have been 38 when I was born. She'll live to be 105 because she doesn't have time to be bothered with dying. Aunt Betty sends birthday cards to me and my kids without fault. They might be late, but she admits it. I think I was 17 when she stopped slipping a $5 bill into those cards. That was probably the first inkling I had that I might becoming an adult.
Aunt Betty is great at Scrabble. She's very Catholic. She is probably disappointed in me, but would never let it show.
We moved away from New York when I was very young. Every summer we would travel back home. I remember Aunt Betty's back yard was full of mosquitoes if you ventured too close to the trees in the back of the yard. Her son had the most amazing Lord of the Rings poster in the basement. I think it was Lord of the Rings. It might have been a Led Zeppelin poster.
Her next door neighbor girl was at least four years older than me. She once pretended that I was her boyfriend to make another neighbor kid jealous. That five minutes is burned into my memory. Her slanted driveway. She was wearing yellow shorts. She put her arm around me and claimed we were boyfriend and girlfriend. There was a broken lawn chair on the curb waiting for the trash men. I played it cool. Or maybe I was scared shitless. Either way, she was off after the boy in five minutes. I might have waited an hour for her to come back. Years later I saw her again. She remembered me but only so. I don't think she remembered the "boyfriend" thing. I can't seem to forget.
In her most recent birthday card to me, Aunt Betty mentioned that she didn't really have a computer, but if she did, she'd look up my blog and give it a read. While I stand behind ever letter and word and phrase and paragraph and Jesus comic I've written, I think I would be embarrassed for her to read all of this nonsense. She would probably laugh. She does have a good sense of humor and, by Catholic Law, has to forgive me for my sins.
Aunt Betty is having a surprise birthday party thrown for her next weekend in New York. Sally suggested we go. 12 hours there. 12 hours back. It would be hellish. And totally worth it.
Happy Birthday, Aunt Betty!
And if between now and next Saturday you do get the internet and read this horrible web site, I'm sorry I ruined the surprise. Forgive me.
Neighborhood Sign Feud
This photo is from my buddy Chris who lives in the Tampa area. About six weeks ago, three blocks from his house, the sign on the right popped up in a yard that said "John Lebron at 3006 is a felon on probation". 3006 is the address of the house next door. About three days later, a crudely drawn sign appeared in the yard of 3006 that said "This is true. I was a drug addict, but have been saved by Jesus Christ, my Savior". That sign lasted only a few days and was eventually replaced by the sign you see here on the left which reads "Our neighbor is impotent and can't have children".
{Editor's Note: Chris called me to say the signs have been taken down. Too bad no one took photos and posted them on the internet so that they would live on forever!}
Different angle
The Bird Cage
The Bird Cage burnt down. It was a bar in Prescott, AZ in a place
called Whiskey Row. A total loss.
But this story begins at an ATM machine.
The Huntington Bank next to COSI had a high tech video
remote station. You could contact Huntington
Bank and open an account, dispute some drunken charges or secure a loan. Using my 1988 Honda Civic as collateral, I
bought Miss Sally an engagement ring.
I took the ring home, wrapped it in tissues, snuggled it
into a beer cap and then kept it in my 5th pocket of my jeans,
waiting for the right moment to propose.
The right moment took about three months.
Over Christmas, I bought Sally a camera. To her mom’s dismay, I didn’t propose over
Christmas. While I was out of her house
at the grocery, her mother set the camera on her left hand and claimed it was
an engagement camera. They told me about
it when I got back. I laughed, the ring
safe in its tissue lined bottle cap nest.
Then towards the end of January, we went out west to visit Sally’s
best friend Tanya. She lived in Phoenix
at the time. We spent one night in South
Mountain Park, the largest city park in the United States. We hiked up to an old helicopter pad. It was the perfect night. The sun was setting.
It was beautiful. But we were drunk as all get out and I didn’t want the moment
to be spoiled, even though I knew that Sally might have to be drunk to say “yes.”
Later on that week, we drove north to Prescott. We stayed in this hotel where all the rooms
are themed out. Ours was the Christmas
Room. Tanya's boyfriend and I decided to put on suit jackets
and we all hit an area of town called Whisky Row.
There were several “historic” bars in a row. Inside one of the bars called "The Bird Cage" were bikers. Bikers in leather. Bikers
in chaps. Bikers with cigarettes. Bikers
with hats.
We drank and laughed and watched the bikers.
Around midnight, I could take it no longer.
In this smokey bar, filled with drunks and bikers and drunken
bikers, I asked Miss Sally to sit down on a stool (which almost made her
taller.) I’m sure I said some really
dumb things and then I pulled out the ring and I proposed.
She was stunned. And she said yes.
Did I mention that I had a goatee at the time?
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