Random Thursday

My well of inspiration seems to be suffering a drought of its own, so borrowing the Random Thursday concept from Eric, I offer the following misfires:

• I was listening to the radio on my way to work this morning, and the host was discussing one of Google's little in jokes with the news guy. You know: type in "failure", click "I'm feeling lucky", and up pops Dubya's bio at www.whitehouse.gov.
  
  I find this sort of joke a bit tiresome, but more because this sort of thing is just so 20^th century than because of an unswerving allegiance to President Bush.
  
  What I did find interesting was the news guy's observation about Bush's bio page. At the bottom, there's a link to the same bio En Español. Not Vietnamese, not French, and not whatever it is that the friendly guy at the corner 7-11 speaks. "Why just Spanish?", he wondered.
  
  "Because," I said to no one in particular, "the Vietnamese, Koreans, Pakistanis... all those folks bust their butts to learn English from pretty much the first moment after they step off the [metaphorical] boat."


• This month's search terms:
  
  c++ program for parking garage Technology is not a toy. Our parking garage doesn't have anything fancier than a card reader for opening the gate, and the blasted thing only works half the time. Adding computer logic to the mix could only end in sorrow.
  
  it's five o clock and just to keep our jobs, gotta find my way to the whistle , sounds of the morning, in my brain, while another day goes down the drain, Could you be more specific?
  
  finger goat colon coworker Could you be less specific? Or just go away?


• This morning, as I was heading out the door, Turtle warned me that she'd heard on the radio that there was a big wreck on the northbound side of my primary route to work. I thanked her for the information and promptly dragged it to my mental Recycle Bin (for you Mac users, that's the file deletion limbo where Windows accumulates all the deleted files for a second deletion when you're really, really, really sure you don't need it any more), because I was headed south.
  
  And yet, as I approached the location where the accident was reported to be, my progress was blocked by four entire lanes of bumper-to-bumper morons who, at the first sign of flashing lights, had slowed to a crawl in the perverse hope that they might catch a glimpse of someone's brains and teeth scattered across the road on the other side of the concrete barrier.
  
  Call me detached, but I figure that unless I'm in a position to help, the victims' situation is significantly less my business than getting to work is. If you want gore, go rent Texas Chainsaw Massacre. In the meantime, eyes forward and full speed ahead.