testMonkey Realm

change is good

2006-01-28T15:14:00.000-07:00

howdy fellow 'realm readers!

Well, the time has come for me to reign in control of this here blog. Starting now (no, now!), the testMonkey realm will reside at the following address:
http://www.testmonkeydesigns.com

I have opted to take it back to my own server and run it under a Wordpress publishing engine. For you non-nerds, that means I'll have more control over posts, layout, static content, etc. In time there will be sections and pages dealing in specifics, such as summer river trips, child birth (he he he HAW!), and more as I see fit.

So head on over, reset your bookmarks, and pardon our mess - we are expanding.

-testMonkey

World Tour Continues

2006-01-25T22:06:00.000-07:00

The Adobe-sponsored Travel Abroad Program tour continues, this time with the wife getting in on the act.

Est-ce que n'importe qui parle français?

Around the world

2006-01-23T22:11:00.000-07:00

The Adobe-sponsored Travel Abroad Program has kindly decided to sponsor my ambitions to travel more. As proof of my first journey, I provide the following photograph:

Perhaps a tripod and self-timer are in order.

Approximately 5000 steps

2006-01-12T17:17:00.000-07:00

I find myself suddenly running a 5K on Saturday morning. How did that happen? It's a sponsored event with t-shirts, race fees --the whole nine.

Think about it: I'm paying to run 3.1 miles. In the cold. When I could be sleeping.

Someone tell me why.

ah, cerumen

2005-12-30T15:46:00.000-07:00

For all you burgeoning business people out there, I have for you the greatest money maker of ~~all time~~ today. Stay tuned.

We all know the iPod, in all its ubiquitous glory, comes with those tiny earbuds instead of full fledged headphones. And we all know that everyone except my mom has an iPod -or a cheap knockoff -that also packages their "portable music player" (read: iPod wannabe) with earbuds.

While the tiny speaker and/or the cords may be white, blue, purple, tweed, whatever, they always have a little black foam cover that is lodged into your ear canal in traditional Kamikaze style.

Now, I consider myself on the upper echelon of the hygienic crowd; I shower each day, brush my teeth, put on deodorant. And, despite the fact that doctors will tell you not to, I even clean my ears everyday. Yup, everyday.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I pulled from my ears the spankin' new iPod nano's earbuds the other day and found them covered with earwax. I mean, I clean my ears everyday and I'm still socially unacceptable.

I can't be the only one with this issue.

Therefore, it's a simple, guaranteed money maker of an idea that I present freely to you. I'd do it myself, but I lack resources, money, and well, the motivation.

Remember that little black foamy cover that comes with the earbud? Make and sell an earwax colored one. Seriously. You'll be freakin' rich. And the hyper-cerumen producers of the world will thank you.

The Christmas Swindle

2005-12-27T11:37:00.000-07:00

Let me preface this post by stating that my intentions were of the most pure kind. It is only in hindsight that I see the potentially nefarious implications of my decisions.

I, like many men, turned to Gift Cards as my principle gifts to my wife this year. Let's face it - the awful stigma that once accompanied gift certificates or cards is all but gone these days. Many prefer them to getting those horrid gifts of days gone by ("you bought me a penguin statuette for Christmas?!?"). Case in point: for two years running, women at or near the register have said to me as my order was processing: "I wish my husband would just get me a gift card."

(Factor in also the Catch-22 that is buying stuff, especially clothes, for women: buy them too big and she gets mad because you are calling her, well, fat. Buy them too small and she is upset that you are calling her, um, fat.)

When buying gift cards for anyone but my wife, it's the same a buying a real gift. Giving them a $20 card is the same, financially speaking, as giving them the $20 sweater. But it has occurred to me in these days after Christmas that the rules bend a bit if you are in this scenario with your wife.

Allow me to be specific: my darling wife is about seven months pregnant. As such, for Christmas I got her a gift card for a local maternity clothing store; she can get some things she needs for her current voluptuous state. I also gave her a gift card to her favorite clothes store so she can get something nice after she has had the baby (since nothing in this store comes close to accommodating a pregnant woman). Kind of a "now and later" themed Christmas. Aren't I sweet.

So where is the swindle, as the title suggests? Think about it for a minute...yes...ah, there it is: I'm getting credit for stuff she would have bought anyway. That money would have been spent the same way, in the same amounts, for the same things, whether I'd bought gift cards or not.

I feel like I've gotten away with something naughty. I won't tell if you don't.

Nerd Alert: Shiira

2005-12-26T11:53:00.000-07:00

For the one or two of you OS X users that check this blog from time to time and usually do so with Safari, please allow me to introduce you to Shiira. What is Shiira, you ask? A better web browser, I say.

Shiira is built on top of WebCore, the engine that runs Safari. This means that if the pages you usually browse load fine in Safari, they will look, act, and render fine in Shiira, too. So why use it? The subtleties, that's why.

Tabs are pretty standard in modern browsers these days, but why won't Safari let me re-arrange them the way I want? No idea. Shiira to the rescue; I can drag my tabs around in any ol' order I want. Yippy. That alone is worth the price of change (which is free, by the way). But there are other subtle touches in Shiira that make this a worthwhile browser. Instead of opening links in new windows, I can have all links open in new tabs (that's why we have tabs, right?). When I close a tab, instead of showing me the next tab over from where I was, Shiira takes me back to the tab that I was on previously. How freakin' cool is that. Shiira gets me. Dig it.

Other subtleties are nice, too. The interface is not metallic. The interface is much smaller and less cluttered. There is a little button on the tab bar to allow me to add a new tab for those like my father who have no idea how I work such magic (Apple - T still does the job). It allows me to use my bookmarks from Safari. The download manager is handled in the sidebar instead of that stupid little window that opens and stays open in Safari.

Shiira does present a few limitation that sort of drive me nutty. My in-browser spell checker is gone. Safari's bookmark manager is the best I've seen and Shiira's sidebar is a poor excuse. The sidebar does not automatically close when I'm done with it.

Overall, Shiira is a great alternative to Safari and offers plenty of reasons to set it as the default browser in OS X (which, interestingly enough, you must do in Safari preferences - go figure). All two of you should check it out.

dedicated to Auntie Organutan

2005-12-15T09:33:00.000-07:00

Seems there is big news from the Superman Returns front (snicker snort giggle):

"Superman Returns" star Brandon Routh is supposedly giving the suits at Warner Brothers fits because of his prodigious package of masculinity. The 26-year-old beefcake's extra-large endowment is said to be so distracting through his skin-tight costume that producers may have to shrink him during post-production.

"It's a major issue for the studio," a "Superman Returns" production source fretted to the London Sun. "Brandon is extremely well-endowed and they don't want it up on the big screen. We may be forced to erase his package with digital effects."
(https://www.nypost.com/gossip/pagesix.htm)

Clearly Brandon Routh is in no way related to the testMonkey clan. In any way.

xBox insanity

2005-11-22T22:15:00.000-07:00

xBox 360's going for thousands on eBay? May I respectfully say:
you're all freakin' IDIOTS!

damn the ketchup

2005-11-16T15:09:00.000-07:00

Some time back a genius decided a great idea had been born. "Have a party we will," he said. "A food fight party it will be," he concluded. Invitations were made and sent out. A hardy few who knew not the words "food fight" showed up. Hilarity ensued.

There was a camera. Someone pushed the record button. Then no one did anything with the tape -until today. Grab yourself the latest version of Quicktime and give it a look:

Food Fight (5 MB)

(note: believe it or not there was absolutely no alcohol involved in this here event. promise.)

Guy Who Reads National Weather Service Bulletins

2005-11-07T22:36:00.000-07:00

Anyone who has talked with me in the past few weeks/months knows that I am suffering a crisis of identity pertaining to that horrid, little, diminutive life question we all hear beginning in grade school: "What are you going to do with your life?"

While pondering this question one day in the car, the song I was semi-listening to was abruptly and rudely interrupted by some guy telling me it was raining. Anywhere else this would not be news, I know. But I live in the desert, so any rain warrants the National Weather Service interrupting life to tell you of some flood watch or warning or whatnot.

Anyway, the warning comes on and it sounds like every radio and television test of the infamous "emergency broadcast system" since 1963; some guy with a tin can and a shoelace telling me something that I can't possibly care about because he has the nerve to interrupt my show/song/whatever.

At this point, it dawns on me to ask a question: how'd he get that job? Seriously, what are the requirements and specifications for that post? It can't be much. I doubt he creates the warning or watch; real people with real jobs probably do this. He must be a mindless grunt who, from time to time, is handed a paper to read.

I figure it must be like this: Important Guy (read: rich) gets some high-end job in government. He is there for years and years, long enough to have a family, son, etc.

Son grows up enjoying the perks of daddy's money; in other words, he's a total and complete waste of human flesh. He wrecks a few cars, barely passes high-school, has a few illegitimate children, and so on. Son is an embarrassment to Important Guy, so Important Guy calls in a few favors to get son a nice, safe, steady job in government. Since son has no skills (except for the making of wrecks and illegitimate children), Guy Who Reads National Weather Service Bulletins is born.

Pretty mindless. But there have to be some perks. First, it's a government gig. As I've been looking into career paths, there is something to be said for taking the government route. Heath benefits and ridiculous salaries come to mind. Oh, and access to those fifty dollar hammers.

Additionally, this Guy Who Reads National Weather Service Bulletins has some power. He must have a little button on his desk (I can see the desk now: piles of burger wrappers, empty soda cups, and the occasional errant french fry taking up residence on all available surfaces) that he gets to push when it's time to read the bulletins. Said button allows the immediate interruption of all radio and TV broadcasts. I'm sure the button must be red. Can you image a button that wields that much power not being red?

I guess I need to reform my original question: how do I get that job?

bid'nes

2005-10-31T10:50:00.000-07:00

I'm not a structural engineer. In fact, the only time I think I've ever held the title of 'engineer' is when I made sandwiches for a popular food chain and my name tag read, somewhat misleadingly, 'Sandwich Engineer'.

Nor am I an architect. Can you imagine me being in charge of making sure buildings stay in the air? I can't even be bothered to wear shoes.

I do, however, know a thing or two about what could be better in the ever illustrious trade of bathroom design.

Every so often, my wife and I find ourselves eating at a local chain restaurant. Invariably, we are seated with a bird's eye view of the staff entrance and bathrooms. Without exception, the men's room finds itself occupied several times a meal by various patrons. To this I do not object. I do object, however, to the fact that I and anyone sitting near me gets a clear view of the activities going on.

To you women out there, let me educate you about a concept called "stage fright" (otherwise known "gun shy"). I've been in a women's bathroom a time or two in my life (don't ask), and I have to say with some level of envy that you've really got a nice thing going there. They are always clean, smell nice, and are free of the questionable solicitations that we men have become fairly immune to. You get 12-15 square feet to yourselves, usually boxed into a cozy, private stall. I've even seen a couch or two in there from time to time. In short, you've got a great place to go about your business (bid'nes?).

The realm of men's rooms, unfortunately, is rarely as serene. The smells - burning through nostril hairs like an out of control forrest fire, the aforementioned salacious graffiti, and the palpable filth are all givens. Add to that the fact that instead of individualized stalls, men get the opportunity, nay, the privilege, to be lined up side by side in Spanish execution-by-firing-squad style, facing the wall scant inches (ha!) from another feller. All this leads, as you might expect, to a situation that is less than, shall we say, comfortable.

Enter stage fright. We've got to go. We have to go. We need to go. But we can't; there's simply too much pressure. And all this is in your typically well laid out bathrooms.

So what's my beef? Clearly, men have more than enough on our plates with business as usual. Add to that the poorly designed bathroom where some poor schmuck gets a good look at me doing my thing every time the door opens. The SATs and LSATs are nothing compared to that kind of pressure. And think of the people trying to enjoy their meals.

All I'm asking for is a bit of (enter trendy new controversial phrase here) intelligent design. Someone can approve a bathroom layout that will inhibit the viewing of men in the midst of urination. It's possible. I've seen it. And I've not seen it. For heaven's sake, let us pee in peace.

encouragement

2005-10-20T22:15:00.000-06:00

I've made it no secret over the past two or so months that I have been working to lose some weight and to get in better shape. To do this, I have worked closely with UFIT Personal Training, who have been great at teaching me how to change certain behaviors. While I now sweat a ton more than I did previously, the pounds that have come off are mainly due to changes in what and how I eat.

Change takes sacrifice -no doubt. After a hard workout or after starting the week measuring a few pounds lighter, it is pretty easy to give up the cookie or pie. There are other times when it is really hard to overlook the sweets. It calls. You feel weak. It happens. You sack the guy who suggested this foul sacrifice nonsense to begin with.

Tonight, I discovered a great way to buoy up the defensives: head on down to your local Golden Coral, Chuck-a-rama, or any other buffet-style restaurant. Have yourself a look at what I call the "pro class" buffet frequenters. These are the people that make the news because they ate all the roast beef and the manager kicks them out. These are the people who check the oxygen tank at the door before devouring the fried chicken. These are the people who procreated so their children can go get them more mashed potatoes (heavens, I might burn calories if I do it myself).

These are the people who helped me put the cookie down.

the grape, it appears, is a girl grape (with Video)

2005-10-13T16:31:00.000-06:00

Click the image below for a bigger (i.e.: bandwidth busting HUGE) version.

Video of the ultrasound:
Large QuickTime (30ish MB)
Medium QuickTime (11ish MB)
Medium MPEG4 (11ish MB)
Small QuickTime (4ish MB)

Make sure you are updated to the free QuickTime 7 Player

A Simple Thanks

2005-09-30T11:10:00.000-06:00

You know I've been standing outside in the hot/cold/rain/snow for a half hour (or more). You've been there and understand there are better ways to spend a half hour.

You know that, at times, I need some extra time to myself. You give me that time.

You know based on my face that I am ready to go. And you get to it.

You know that when I ask for something, I feel better when you write it down. And you go ahead and write it down. Or you at least pretend to.

You know that if I'm sitting comfortably, despite the fact you've been standing for hours, I'd still prefer you not take a seat with me. You just keep on standing.

You know that if I ask for water it is because I am thirsty for water and not cheap. You give me that water and know there in no need to put a slice of sour fruit in it.

You care more about me than the guy over there. At least, that's what it feels like.

You know that naturally after an entire plate of Chicken Fettucini Alfredo, I'm quite satisfied. You don't get all annoyed when I turn down dessert.

To the waiters and waitresses of the world, the Good Ones: kudos!

tennis, anyone?

2005-09-08T22:37:00.000-06:00

I've been watching lots of tennis of late due to the copious coverage of the US Open. This is having a serious side affect on me; I want desperately to play tennis. Yes, I'm using this here blog to further my own needs -forgive me, I'm jonesin'. I'm sending out the call for a tennis partner. Anyone, seriously, let's play. Please. It's cooling off here, I swear. Leave some info in the comments or drop an email at j (at) testmonkeydesigns (dot) com.

husband collapses

2005-08-25T11:43:00.000-06:00

Podcasting

2005-08-25T11:01:00.000-06:00

Have you checked out this podcasting stuff yet? Me == totally addicted. My wife and I used to struggle for the remote control anywhere there was cable because I wanted to watch Leo Laporte on the now defunct TechTV and she, well, didn't. Now, armed with iTunes 4.9, I have all of Leo's podcasts at my fingertips anytime I need a good nerdly fix.

So this post is nothing more at an attempt to syndicate a podcast for my own learning. The podcast itself is easy to make; the bugger is getting it setup so anyone can find it an listen to it. I guess we'll see if it works, no?

Enjoy, and try to not be too offended.

Listen

But the rum!?! Where's the rum?!?

2005-07-16T16:01:00.000-06:00

More to come...

oh my cuteness

2005-05-04T23:16:00.000-06:00

the end of an era

2005-04-18T19:59:00.000-06:00

Today marks an end. My irresponsible, non eco-friendly, gas-guzzling, and incredibly ego-centric '88 Desert Runner is gone. I sold it to a nice man named Juan from California. I'm now one notch closer to the dreaded minivan.

A moment of silence, please.

Baby Zack

2005-04-04T17:32:00.000-06:00

Lil' Zack, the new son of Mrs. testMonkey's brother and darling wife John & Paige, was born recently. Here's a peek:

Cute, no?

30 seconds to get it right

2005-03-11T12:25:00.000-07:00

As a new and relatively obscure owner of an even more obscure business, I am learning much about the world of advertising. Every day I am bombarded by advertising ad nauseam, some of which works very well, and some of which repulses me from the product all together. Take the iPod craze, for example. I now own two of Apple's hugely successful iPods, an iPod mini and the super sexy iPod shuffle. Wait, did you read that? Evidently I don't own an iPod shuffle, I own a "super sexy" iPod shuffle. Kudos to Apple for being able to slam a market in just the right way such that the advertising elevates the product above it's real value.

On the other hand, there are some ads that I have to wonder about. Those 80's-esque Aqua Velva ads that recently hit the airwaves are far from effective in getting me out to my local WalMart to purchase cologne. And what about the thousands and millions of dollars that went into those horrendous "Rip, Slip, Brush, Ahh!" ads for portable tooth brushing? Seriously, you want me to wander the subways with my dominant phalange shoved in my mouth? When did that become sociably acceptable?

Some advertising goes a bit too far. In my twenty-some-odd years on this planet, I have come to accept that I will view millions of ads for feminine hygiene products. Pads, tampons, feminine odor sprays, creams, wings, narrow, absorbent --all words and concepts I am familiar with. Sure. Fine. Whatever. But one company recently crossed a very delicate line with me. In a 30 second spot for some company pimping their particular posse of pads, I watched one women ask if her current brand helped prevent stickiness and odor.

Umm, yeah. Stickiness and odor. I'm clearly not a women, but would those words, associated with that particular product, ever get me to purchase? I feel the rule should be thus: if it's uncouth to discuss the dirty details of toilet paper and how it betters human life, let's apply that principle to feminine hygiene products, k? Why so sensitive about this? I was eating dinner. Grrr.

But I digress.

Some advertising is just plain serendipitous. Our Beloved Lady of the Cupcake, Martha Stewart herself, has recently arrived home from prison to begin stage two of punishment -chillin' in her huge [edit] crib. Watching TV last night, I noticed that recently revived Kmart is again running ads for their Martha Stewart line of products. In fact, they are doing a sale on these products -up to 25% off. Ordinarily, this would be called a White Sale. How has Kmart chosen to promote the sale?

Come find amazing deals at the Martha Steward Home Sale with saving up to 25% off.

Yes, Kmart is having a Martha Steward Home Sale. Coincidence? I don't know. Funny? Absolutely.

So as testMonkey designs pushes further into the ugly world of business via advertising, all I can do is hope the right decisions are made and that my product line never finds itself in jail.

next year's superbowl ad?

2005-02-28T22:59:00.000-07:00

Grab the latest version of QuickTime (here) and take a gander at the new testMonkey designs TV commercial. Post some comments on what I should have done differently 'cause I can tweak and replace at will. And dearest sister, you'll need sound to make the most of my self-serving purposes.

See it here.

Not to be outdone...

2005-02-01T17:59:00.000-07:00

Mr. and Mrs. testMonkey would like to announce the arrival of their twins: Louie and Ralphie. They arrived at testMonkey Manor some weeks ago, but felt it important that they not take attention from lil' Drew's grand arrival. After a brief bout with shell rot, both are doing fine and smelling less foul.

Say Uncle (II)

2005-01-25T17:47:00.000-07:00

Well, testMonkey can now be know as Uncle testMonkey to at least one person. Lil' Drew made it into the world today. Momma and Pappa are doing well, though Drew looks to have had a religious experience of it. Hallelujah!

heli fun

2005-01-10T19:47:00.000-07:00

It's no secret that I hate flying. A lot. So why on earth would I volunteer to take a helicopter that happens to be smaller than my Nissan -a lot smaller- into the air with a camera? Some possibilities:

• I have a death wish
• I have a disbelief in gravity
• I have a disbelief in mortality
• I have a responsibility to get the news to the public

At any rate, I had a chance to go up in a two seater with A Flight Above helicopter flight training school to get flood coverage for KCSG TV. And I have to say, after the first wave of nausea subsided, it was pretty cool and quite comfortable. I must do this again. Soon. Very fun.

For those that expressed concern, the family of testMonkey is fine and not affected by the severe flooding in the area (aside from having to work like a billion hours straight). For a highlight reel of the flight, update to the latest version of QuickTime (here) and grab the file size right for you:

• Large (11.5MB)
• Smaller (4.5MB)

Amen

2005-01-06T08:40:00.000-07:00

"The word 'passion' is barred from all business meetings (please).
OK, this is more a wish than a hard prediction, but in business settings the word "passion" is so overused that it should be relegated to the drawer where they now keep "synergy" and sports metaphors. If I hear one more executive talk about his passion for server virtualization or digital content or customer satisfaction, I am going to start passing out stuffed lemmings (or some other poor, pathetic creature). In the new year, do everyone a favor and save the passion for the bedroom."

A general "Amen" to Business 2.0's Predictions for Technology for the New Year.

True Love

2004-12-29T01:22:00.000-07:00

A man, we'll call him Clay*, lies naked, face down on his bed. His wife, armed with flashlight and tweezers at the ready, peers curiously -yet intently -at his bare backside. Clay wonders exactly how many years of marriage, how many years of clogged toilets and how much of his own noxious flatulence, it took to get to the point where he could -semi-comfortably -find himself in just such a position.

But I'm skipping ahead a bit. This is the story of a lesson learned. A lesson that really can't be taught in any humane way. It is a lesson that must be experienced to really, really gain wisdom from.

Ask yourself what the worst possible thing that you could do in the following situation:

You're a photographer for the local news channel. Your tripod is setup to be low to the ground. The head of the tripod is off balance, requiring you to squat low to adjust the horizon of the camera.

And you're shooting in a cactus garden.

Give it a second...ah, yes. There it is: the worst possible thing you could do.

Moral? Always, always look behind you before stooping down in the desert.

As the cactus needles were being removed one by one with the crudest of tools, Clay realized with a solemn certainty one simple fact: his wife really must love him.

(* names changed to protect the umm... bare assed embarrassed)

(mundane) update

2004-11-19T07:33:00.000-07:00

Lots of silence for the past little while. Sorry.

Here's an update to what's been happening lately:

• testMonkey Designs is now an officially legal business. Why, you ask? Well, there appears to be more demand for my services and I fear good ol' Uncle Sam. What's with the pointy finger.

• I changed jobs at the TV station from commercial production back to more of a news shooter role. This is a faster paced, more stressful, but has some definite advantages. In this position, I strive to make things look great instead of just trying to "get it on the air." Yes, it does seem like I typed that backwards. I didn't.

• My wife and I bought a house. Well, a townhouse. Or is it a condo? Someone, please tell me the difference. We've moved the big stuff but are still cleaning out apartment of three years (first time we're trying that little trick; perhaps we should do it more often?). An interesting experience it has been, too. I suggest being independently wealthy before purchasing a home. I imagine dropping a fat pile of cash in front of a seller the day I decided I wanted the house would be a satisfying experience.

Well, more of the fun stuff later.

Pachyderms and Jackasses -an open letter

2004-10-22T01:12:00.000-06:00

Snoop Dogg --yes, Snoop Dogg the rapper and former murder defendant --just came onto my TV set and told me to vote. Yes, well, thanks, Snoop. After months of debates, news coverage, political ads, and moronic rhetoric (more on this soon), your thoughtful, well-articulated, and quite upbeat message about my American duty has convinced me that I should get my lazy butt off the couch, hop in my red, white, and blue truck, and vote in this upcoming presidential election. Yup, you, Dogg, have pushed me over the political edge. Congratulations --job well done.

Though I have to pause for a second, man. Something comes to mind...

Oh, yeah --I live in Utah. Well, Snoop, sorry. We're not a battle ground state. I can pretty much tell you how it's going to go. Bush has got it. In fact, it's a lock. In this state, Mormon equals Republican and Democrat equals Evil. And this is Utah, man. Mormons abound.

I hear ya, Snoop. It's not right to be generalizing a peoples. But that's how it's seen by the locals. And since it's seen that way, well, that's the way it is. Bush wins, even without my vote. Or even with my vote cast against the world's favorite oil man.

So thanks anyway, Snoop. And feel free to visit my living room again the next time an election makes a great way to push your upcoming album release.

Fleas, Lids, and Rootbeer

2004-10-12T23:31:00.000-06:00

An analogy has been posed:

Fleas, it seems, can jump really, really far. Some scientists decided to try and train fleas -for fun, I suppose. The scientists placed these fleas in a jar with no lid. As expected, the fleas all jumped out. They then placed them in the jar with a lid secured tightly. The fleas jumped, hit the lid, and fell time and time again. Soon, they learned to jump just under the height of the lid, avoiding the pain, yet still jumping. (This is where I differ from the fleas; why jump at all?) After they were conditioned to this height, the scientists removed the lid. Now fully trained, no fleas managed to jump over the rim of the jar and escape.

The unspoken yet intended message of this analogy (or is it a metaphor?) is that we are the fleas that simply aren't reaching our potential. Jump a little higher. Do a little more for the team. See and exceed the limits. Blah blah blah.

Hopefully one step smarter than your average simian, allow me to take a differing angle on this. Fleas are what they are; they jump high and far by nature. In fact, the only reason the fleas in this little anecdote began to fall short of their potential in the first place is because some meddling scientists put a cap on the damn jar. They fell victim to their masters. It was out of there control.

Just as the scientists can't reasonably be surprised that the fleas failed to escape after the barrier was removed, leaders shouldn't be surprised when the work environment they create causes a lack of motivation, unity, and effectiveness. Are followers better than fleas? Some are, yes. Higher thinking, free will, and personal choice all come into play in situations like this. But leaders have a responsibility to put their followers in situations where there are no lids to begins with, to remove barriers if they do exist, and to recognize when to simply turn the jar over and dump it out.

And I had rootbeer today. Swell.

sound it out

2004-10-05T22:41:00.000-06:00

New-Aged Masochists

2004-10-05T07:53:00.000-06:00

Darkness All Around
I infiltrated a group of new-aged masochists. It was surprisingly simple to get the invite; the invite, it turns out, is the easy part. All one has to do is to actually infiltrate is awake at some unheard-of hour of the day (is it really day?) and follow these freaks as they run around a very, very nice neighborhood. These insidious people make nice chitchat about the weather, headlamps, their chosen profession, and the Superbowl of Masochism –the Marathon.

It's 5:30 a.m. I've forgotten what this time of day looks like. I believe I forgot on purpose.

Here's what I learns about this clandestine group:

They enjoying breaking newbies

There's a perfectly good 2 mile loop, but they foolishly choose to take the 4 mile loop instead

They train all year to run 26.2 miles in one morning and can still hardly move the next day (I find this particularly ironic/funny)

Walking is severely poo-pooed

Good morning chafing
Why have I chosen to label this particular group of people "new-aged masochists"? The nineties are over. Flannel shirts and torn jeans have gone the way of the Pet Rock and Hypercolor shirt. This group of dedicated weirdos has traded the whips, chains, and mosh pits of yesterday for soft and supple running shoes, ultra short shorts, and the occasional tub of Vaseline. The result is the same, though --they love the pain. They revel in the sweat and the torture. And like Uncle Sam, they want YOU to suffer with them. Like women heading off to the bathroom, these people like to suffer in groups.

To you, my friends who are an abomination to us couch-sitters, I point a long and crooked finger in your general direction and shout loudly, "I will not join your ranks! I will not engage in such so-called healthy behavior. And I will certainly enjoy the extra sleep that you nutjobs are missing."

Tree Dandruff

2004-09-30T22:47:00.000-06:00

Heber City, UT
December, 2003

Leadership, Loyalty, and a Test

2004-09-28T23:56:00.000-06:00

Many people, it seems, end up as leaders. They might be leaders of community, religion, employment, or the ever popular "other." However, as has been widely document through the ages, there are always two types of leaders: the great and the awful. But it has recently occurred to me that there is at least one sub-grouping within the "awfuls" --the oblivious and the well-meaning. Here there is often overlap, sure. There are the leaders that are awful and just don't care. Then there are the leaders that seem to really, really mean to lead well. Their aim is the greater good of their followers. Sadly, they just don't realize that what they are doing, in a well intentioned way, is killing off their followers, destroying loyalty and community, yada yada.

If you ever find yourself as a leader and wonder if you might be one of the "awfuls," simply ask yourself if you've ever had to end a conversation with the words, "Well, I'm the (pick one: General Manager, Bishop, President, Cub Leader, Lifeguard, Other), so that's they way it is." The answer will be pretty self-evident, and you'll then realize what your followers have already known.

Say Uncle! Say Uncle!

2004-09-27T22:34:00.000-06:00

Well, now they've gone and done it. Those two up in the Reno area have gone and gotten themselves pregnant. Sure, that's a "good thing" --the whole giving of life thing --but the side effect is that now I'll be an uncle. What an ugly word: "uncle."

Well, what you're here for --pics of lil' Drew:

river, eh?

2004-09-21T22:37:00.000-06:00

Rivers amaze me. They entertain and kill. There's a thought that's a bit too deep to continue with.

The summer of 2004 took Christina and I to the river again -this time with two Salmon virgins. Seth and Shanalee Sadler joined us and put up with "guide J" (versus the regular version) for a couple of smelly days. Fun was had, Strongbad was quoted incessantly, and the same three songs are still stuck in our heads.

Have a looksee at some of our adventures. We're behind the pirates.