This thread is going to be nothing but an endless series of disconnected thoughts.

In sum, it shall differ from the rest of my posts only by a matter of degree. :)

In 1983 I was a senior in High School.

A friend had an extra ticket to something called U2.

I said, "What?" But, figured I'd go anyway. Never heard of 'em, at least not then.

The show was at the Orpheum Theater in downtown Boston. Seats, I think, around 1,300. Maybe more. But, you get the idea. It was kind of a small place...certainly in terms of what they later became.

The album they were touring to support was War .

I think I caught them at just the right time. They were tight as a band, and hadn't yet begun to think of themselves as Rock Stars.

They played all of War, most of Boy, and a couple of songs from October.

Damn good.

I cannot determine if the software sucks, or if the people who decide to use it are seven shades of moron.

Nobody seems to be able to get it work right on their own. Particularly (god forbid) if you should try to do your payroll through it. That is pretty much the kiss of death.

I guess you can either do your quickbooks right, or grow your business, but not both. Then you wind up paying somebody to unsnarl the mess you've made of things, on a monthly or quarterly basis. Or you pay a bazillion dollars to get a tax return done if I have to read through the load of rubbish you bring in.

Here's an idea for a budding entrepreneur: Invent accounting software that is easy to use and works. Not sure that it is possible, but if somebody does it they could eat Intuit's lunch.

The product just flat-out doesn't work, at least without a lot of extra fiddling.

Set myself the task of re-reading the Bible.

So far, the only thing I am mystified about is that anyone could consider this rubbish somehow divinely inspired.

Doubtless things will pick up once I get through Deuteronomy.

Doubtless it is a cornerstone of Western Civilization and doubtless I shall be better person when the task is accomplished.

At the moment, though, I am simply bored out of my skull.

To ease the tedium I am flipping back and forth between the New International Version (NIV) and the New American [Catholic] Bible (NAB). Some interesting differences in translation, to put it mildly.

I started off with the bright idea of using a book on reading the Bible. Worked okay at first. Hit the "Wisdom" books (Proverbs, Ecclasiastes, James in the NT, Sirach, deuterocanonical, Job). However, after that the text wanted you to read portions of Isaiah, Jeremiah, etc.

I've abandoned that as too confusing and am going to a straight up chronological. Not too sure how I'll handle the Apocryphal texts. I'll probably follow the Catholic ordering, but I'm not quite sure.

Two quotes from Nietzsche:

(1) Something about having a razor blade to cut his throat being a comfort on lonely nights

(2) Something about singing a song that only he could hear

Can't remember either of them, exactly. I think they may come from correspondence written just before he went loony.

Oh, well, as I read somewhere: If bull**** had a brain, it would be sure to quote Nietzsche.

My dog had the most amazing series of vomits last night.

At about 5 minute intervals.

They started off pretty much solid, and worked their way through mush ending up as straight up vile bile.

The solid chunky monkey ones didn't smell that bad. Plus, I directed him onto the kitchen tile. Not a problem to clean up. Not as much fun as winning the lottery, I agree, but tolerable.

A dog with hiccups is kind of amusing, plus it provides an excellent early warning system for what is coming. With a person hiccups mean it may or may not be coming. With a dog you can bet the mortgage it is.

The mushy ones were kind of gross to clean up. Although one batch was kind of pinkish, one yellowish and one looked kind of bluish. A bit worse in the smell department.

We figured he was through for the evening, so we let him back into the TV room (our second mistake). He drank some water (our first mistake) went into the room, walked around, laid down got up...

...and whammo! Vile bile. It sounded like a water balloon exploding when he let loose. No warning, no nothing. The smell was incredible. My wife had to run out of the room, gagging. Since it was almost pure liquid the stuff went EVERYWHERE, too. Corner of the rug, across the wood floor, under the couch, some even splattered onto the fireplace.

Amazing. I looked on in awe. They got cleaning, since my wuss of a wife was making sounds like she was going to be following the dog any minute.

We called the vet we go to. She said it was okay to let him be, as long as he had finally stopped. (He had.) So, I guess he's over it.

The bit of the rug he hit cleaned up surprisingly well. Ditto the floor. However, the room still has a bit of a tang to it, at least it did as of this morning. Hopefully that won't last too long.

The one thing don't think I've conveyed in this essay is the sheer volume of puke I was dealing with, so I'll do it now.

The solid stuff seemed to run to about three to four cups, maybe more. Nothing like cleaning up a warm steaming pile o' puke that your dog is feverishly trying to scarf up at the same time.

The semi-solid mush was total about a cup or so, though it did spread out over a wider area. The dog actually wanted nothing to do with this stuff. I'd say it was the weird color, but dogs are color blind after all.

The liquid stuff is hard to judge. I'd guess it was all the water in his dish plus whatever was lingering in his stomach (couldn't have been much) plus some stomach bile for coloring and odor. Call it another cup, but it may have been less.

Not bad output for a dog that weighs 50 lbs., eh?

Oh, forgot to mention the dog really wanted his bile back.

Lap, lap, lap.

Stupid dog.

Amazing how successful some people are.

This guy I'm looking at made several millions via computer consulting. He sold the business, set for life.

He started a mortgage brokerage business, and is now doing quite well with that, thank you very much.

Hunt them down and kill them. :)

I am a sick man. ... I am a spiteful man. I am an unattractive man. I believe my liver is diseased. However, I know nothing at all about my disease, and do not know for certain what ails me. I don't consult a doctor for it, and never have, though I have a respect for medicine and doctors. Besides, I am extremely superstitious, sufficiently so to respect medicine, anyway (I am well-educated enough not to be superstitious, but I am superstitious). No, I refuse to consult a doctor from spite. That you probably will not understand. Well, I understand it, though. Of course, I can't explain who it is precisely that I am mortifying in this case by my spite: I am perfectly well aware that I cannot "pay out" the doctors by not consulting them; I know better than anyone that by all this I am only injuring myself and no one else. But still, if I don't consult a doctor it is from spite. My liver is bad, well--let it get worse!


Besides, I am bored, and I never have anything to do. Writing will be a sort of work. They say work makes man kind-hearted and honest. Well, here is a chance for me, anyway.

Oh, if I had done nothing simply from laziness! Heavens, how I should have respected myself, then. I should have respected myself because I should at least have been capable of being lazy; there would at least have been one quality, as it were, positive in me, in which I could have believed myself. Question: What is he? Answer: A sluggard; how very pleasant it would have been to hear that of oneself! It would mean that I was positively defined, it would mean that there was something to say about me. "Sluggard"--why, it is a calling and vocation, it is a career. Do not jest, it is so. I should then be a member of the best club by right, and should find my occupation in continually respecting myself.

Thought for the day: Do at least some work while at work.

Amusing as hell.

I am now sofaking busy at work that I shall have to postpone any further ramblings. :(

Too bad, because I feel an overpowering need to describe what I plan to do to a certain woodpecker that tapping, tapping, tapping not so gently upon our new addition. At 4:30 AM.

Death to Woody! :p

In a manner of speaking, you perverts.

Oh, great. There I go again.

Spending oodles of time posting when I should be working. :(

I am an Idiot.

I wonder how much drivel I'll have to post to make this the longest thread in DA history?

A goal truly worth aspiring to.