Why Won’t My Keyboard Button Thingamajig Work?

SwampMan was complaining loudly to himself. “This button USED to work, but NOOOOOOO. It doesn’t work now. It hasn’t worked for a long time through different computers, and I’d like to know why the hell not!” STABSTABSTABSTABSTAB at the button because physical abuse always makes electronic things work.

“Did you look it up online?” I asked, rudely interrupting his soliloquy cuss session.

“No. What good would that do? It has been a long time since that thing worked.”

“So I heard. Is it your new keyboard?”

“No, damnit. The button hasn’t worked for YEARS. This is a new keyboard.”

“So, what version of Windows you got?”

“Windows XP.”

Ah, yes. He’d ordered a refurbished computer for his shop because he wanted to keep XP; his house computer also has XP. It makes moving things back and forth easier. I’d been typing into the search engine while we were speaking and had the answer in about ten seconds. “Well, there’s your problem right here. That button doesn’t work directly with XP.”

SwampMan muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “bullshit”.

“Humor me. Hit the button, then press start, then all programs, then accessories….”

He stabbed the keys with unnecessary vigor following my directions, then there was a muttered “Well I’ll be a (very rude and offensive expletive)!”

Ah, apparently we were successful in our endeavor.

“Isn’t it interesting”, I continued, “what we find out if we actually look it up?”

More muttered rude words. Not to worry, though. Tomorrow he’ll probably be saying something like “Isn’t it INTERESTING how much money we can save if we do not hit things with a hammer when they malfunction?” to me, unless he recalls in time that his knees have been malfunctioning for years.

Ah, well. He may still be a little aggravated at me from earlier today. He was worrying aloud about the CNC not working with the new (refurbished) computer, mentioned how he had checked settings several times, and was just about to start checking all his connections to make sure he had power to all of them.

“Oh!” I remarked helpfully, although he had not asked for any. “Did you check to see if you have enough RAM?”

He actually rolled his eyes at me. “What, do you think I’m stupid? Of COURSE!”

“Did you reconnect everything to see if it worked with the old computer again after you got everything disconnected and reconnected to the new computer and it didn’t work?” I’m definitely not a repairman, and I am lazy, so I like to make sure that what I’m putting forth a lot of effort and brainwork into is actually the problem.

He blinked. “Well, no….”

“It’s just me, but I’d like to make sure that the computer or a cable isn’t the problem first before I go tearing things down.” SwampMan likes to tear things down. Well, so do I, but all that is left are teensy little molecule-sized pieces when I do it. He actually takes things apart and puts them back together in working condition, and I just gaze at him adoringly because he’s my hero.

“I never even thought of THAT because everything is supposed to be new. Good idea!”

It turned out that it was a dead parallel port in the refurbished computer. SwampMan throws NOTHING away because he may need it someday. He’s got eight or so old computers sitting around to strip parts out of. He’s very happy that he gets to tear down things after all.

Against all Odds

I wanted to share a story from one of our Contributors, Swampwoman. She and her husband are educators in the state of Florida. It’s obvious from reading their story that they are very interested in providing opportunities for their students to learn, even when others have given up on them. (courtesy GCP)

SwampMan and I had worried about what had happened to a former student for years. As a child, he’d been subjected to the most horrific physical and sexual abuse at the hands of those who should have protected him. His mom, also a victim, was helpless to protect him, herself, or the younger ones. As he grew older, he was small and thin and could go into rages when provoked. He was bullied/provoked relentlessly in school and fought back violently. He was often in trouble.

He was an ESE student. I helped him with his reading. I thought he was brilliant and creative and told him so frequently. He had a gift for writing and WHAT an imagination! My heart ached for the gentle, sensitive young man I could catch glimpses of underneath the sullen, combative exterior of a middle schooler that should be in high school.

SwampMan REALLY worried about him. He tutored him. He listened to his problems. He did not report things that probably would have gotten him arrested, suspended, and some mandatory jail time, preferring to handle it himself and talk with the young man.

Then something really bad happened and he was removed from his home and school. We didn’t know where he had been placed or what had happened to him until he graduated, then he came back to the school and told SwampMan how he was a better dad to him than his dad had ever been.

We saw him this evening at a fast food establishment. He came to our table to tell us how much we meant to him. He brought his manager out and told her how we never stopped believing in him. He showed us his car, and told us how proud he had been to cook our food. We are so proud of him!

So many kids that we’ve known with backgrounds like his are dead or in prison. We’ve so happy that he’s getting along fine, even in this crappy economy, holding a job, and being a productive member of society. The slight young man is now a well-muscled, confident, handsome man.

Well done.

So, We Took the Grandsons to Red Lobster

SwampMan decided, since he was going into surgery Monday and would not be visiting restaurants for awhile, that he wanted to go to Red Lobster. Besides, he had been laboring mightily over my van (still not in actual operating condition) in 102-degree record heat, and he needed a reward. It was 3:00. We absolutely positively had to get the kids no later than 5:00 so Daddy could meet his unit to go off for two weeks with the National Guard. Mommy was at work on the other side of town, so Daddy absolutely relied on us. We were on the road, but still were 30 minutes away from Red Lobster. We were 45 minutes away from grandchildren.

SwampMan had asked me, before we left, where I wanted to eat. “Anywhere you want!” Okay, so I figured somewhere quick where we could drive through and get our food (grin) on the way to get the kids. “NO! I want to eat somewhere YOU want where we actually get to SIT DOWN and have people wait on us!”

“Okay, fine. How about Sonny’s BBQ?” They’re fast, good, and relatively inexpensive.

“I thought you liked Longhorn. You wanna go to Longhorn Steakhouse?”

“Uh, sure. I’ll go, if you think we have time.”

“Well, I don’t want to go there. I want the garlic crab and shrimp pasta at Red Lobster.”

It is a good thing that mentally banging a head on the wall doesn’t leave marks!

I pointed out to SwampMan that unless we could get in, order, eat our food, and get out of Red Lobster in 30 minutes (HA!), we were going to be really pushing the time on picking up the grandkids. “But I WANT Red Lobster!” “Well, we’ll just take the kids with us!” says I, ever the optimist. SwampMan was somewhat more sceptical but his Red Lobster craving was not to be denied. He agreed, reluctantly, to pick up the kids first, expressing his hope out loud to God that he wasn’t screwing up.

MeeMaw told the grandkids that we were going to go to a restaurant where they got to go inside and sit down and people ask them what they want to eat. Papa asked them if they remembered going to a restaurant where somebody asked them what they want. “SURE!” said Jacob. “McDonald’s!” Heh. Papa explained that this was a seafood restaurant. “Do you know what that is?” “Do they have shrimp?” asked Jacob. “YES!” “Good, cuz I looooove shrimp!” Dylan said that he did not like shrimp. Papa said that they also have fish. Dylan said that he didn’t like fish, either, with a challenging stare at Papa which, since Papa was driving, he fortunately did not see. Dylan had not had his nap so he was a leeeetle bit grumpy. He soon fell asleep.

When we arrived, I woke him and gave him an abbreviated set of MeeMaw’s Rules, which consisted of sitting quietly with feet under table, bottom in chair, and no loud talking.

When we got inside and were looking over the menu, I found that I had left a few things off of MeeMaw’s Rules. Things like no enumerating every place where he had ever pooped in the potty at in his loud, carrying voice. Things like no burping loudly at the table. The Rules were quickly amended on the spot. “I have to PEEPEE in the potty!”

The very nice and pretty young lady that waited our table brought crayons. Dylan decided to draw poop since MeeMaw wouldn’t let him discuss it. I made Jacob’s shrimp order (with fries!) for him. He asked if he could have chocolate milk. The young lady assured him she would mix some up personally for him. Dylan said he wanted chocolate milk, too, and wice. “Do you want chicken with your rice?” I asked. “No. Just wice.” “How about fish?” “NO! Just wice!” The sweet and pretty waitress asked him if he wanted macaroni with his rice. “Yes! And I HAVE TO POOPOO IN THE POTTY!” Jacob accompanied us. SwampMan and I got our salads. I ate a few bites of salad. Jacob colored quietly. Dylan announced “I don’t wike sawad!” Our appetizer came. Jacob colored quietly. Dylan smelled it. “I don’t wike it! Where’s my wice?” “They’re cooking your wi–uh, rice.” “It takes a long time to cook wice?” “Yes, yes it does.” Dylan told me that he liked wice. And noodles. And cheeseburgers. And boogers. Another rule: No eating boogers. I hurriedly snarfed down a couple pieces of my appetizer. “I have to PEEPEE IN THE POTTY!” We went potty again. When we came back, SwampMan had eaten my appetizer. I told him next time, he goes on the potty run. He declined. He said if I had wanted my appetizer, I should have put it all on my plate. I pointed out that I didn’t have a chance! He said that was no excuse. The cheese biscuits were delivered. Jacob didn’t want one. I gave one to Dylan. He smelled it. He licked it. I firmly told him we do not lick biscuits, we eat them, and tore off a piece. He liked it! He then told me he needed a knife to cut it. I told him there was no way that MeeMaw was going to allow him to have a knife. Ever. “I can cut it with my hands?” “Yes!” “Okay.”

Our food came. Jacob pronounced his fries and popcorn delicious. Dylan looked at his food. “I don’t wike macawoni!” he declared. What a surprise! He looked suspiciously at his wild rice pilaf. “Somebody put SAWAD in my WICE!” There were teensy chopped carrot pieces in there. And a little greenery sprinkled over the top. *sigh* “Just pick out the salad and eat your rice!” He did. He ate half the rice and half a cheese biscuit. “Meemaw, I finished!” Meemaw was shoveling in food at a frantic pace while Papa had a leisurely lunch/dinner. “Well, you will need to sit quietly while Meemaw finishes!” I have to PEEPEE IN THE POTTY, MEEMAW! “We will go peepee when Meemaw eats her food.” Papa was over on the other side of the table murmuring “never again!” to himself. I told the boys how well behaved they were and how proud I was of them. THEY didn’t eat my appetizer while I was taking the boys to the bathroom. The very nice lady bagged up our leftovers while I was escorting boys to the bathroom again.

It only took us an hour and a half in Red Lobster. It just felt like an eternity!

Duval County, Florida, Deports Illegals From Around the World

Illegal Immigrants Deported from Duval County between 10/28/08 and 7/14/10.

Click to enlarge.

I’d like to point out that Duval County, Florida, has been quietly deporting people that have criminal offenses for two years. So, is enforcement of immigration laws racist? Well, look at the picture. While Mexico had the single largest number of illegals sent back to Mexico, they are from all OVER the globe. Yep, Sheriff John has deported people to Asia, Europe, Africa, the Caribbean, Central and South America, and Canada!

This worldwide deportation has occurred from just ONE COUNTY in Florida and this is just the people that were caught for minor (and major) criminal offenses. Think about the magnitude of the problem that is currently being ignored by the Federal Government!

Sunday Morning Gospel

Okay, Johnny Cash ain’t exactly gospel, but I like it, and it’s MY POST. So there.

Be sure to post your favorites unless you’re a Godless heathen.

Friday Night Classical Music Thread

I Write Like Who? Say What?

Omnivoracious has a link to “I Write Like“, which is a text analyzer site where you cut and paste in your own text, and the site tells you which famous author your writing resembles.

Hunh. I decided to take it out for a whirl. The first bit of text that I cut and pasted told me that I wrote like Kurt Vonnegut. The second bit of text that I cut and pasted told me that I wrote like Dan Brown. The third and fourth bits of text that I cut and pasted told me that I wrote like other male authors.

I write like
Dan Brown

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

I suppose that I don’t use enough flowery adjectives to rate as a female. Should I get a DNA test? I thought giving birth was pretty powerful proof of being a genetic female, but could I be wrong?

So take the text test and find your writing style (and gender). If any of y’all get Elizabeth Peters or Janet Evanovich, I’m going to be pissed.

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