June 2004 Archives

After the Super Bowl, and the attendant fallout over what's appropriate on-the-air, I predicted Howard Stern would be gone from Viacom (his home base). Of course that hasn't happened.

Today, Mel Karmazin, Stern's biggest backer, resigned his position at Viacom.

There's nothing in any of what I've read that connect these two events - and they probably aren't connected. But, I'll renew my prediction.

Without Karmazin, there is no one with power at Viacom who is in Stern's corner (or at least no one with the track record of doing so in the past). I can't imagine Viacom's management won't worry about the downside of Stern's freewheeling show.

Of course, I've been wrong on this subject before.

A few weeks ago, I hit it big at Pokerstars. I turned $3 into $966, winning a 1296 person tournament. I felt as if I were on top of the poker world. Since then, I'm not sure if I've won a hand!

OK - that's an overstatement. Still, the poker fortunes have decidedly turned. It's not that I'm playing badly (I've really worked hard to avoid going into tilt). It's just a really long run of bad cards - and it's driving me a little nuts.

If there's a way to lose, I have found it. This past weekend, playing in the same tournament, I finished 128th. Only the top 81 were getting paid. I played my Kings against another player who had 2s. Of course the third two turned on the last card.

That in and of itself isn't unusual. Bad beats are a part of poker. It's just I'm getting 'bad beat' all the time.

Last night, with a King, Queen in my hand, I watched 2 more Kings come up. I bet them hard, all the way to the end, only to see my competition turn over King, Ace.

Helaine has hit the same rut too! She just told me about her loss this evening, playing Kings against a lower pair and losing when her opponent made trips on the river.

It can't last forever. Well, actually, it can. It shouldn't - but it can.

Rather than squander my money away, I have moved down in stakes, hoping to gain some advantage by playing less savvy opponents. Still, we've given back a few hundred dollars of our winnings.

Right now it's frustrating.

Oh - one more poker note before I go. Last night, one of our reporters interviewed the winner of the 2004 World Series of Poker. Greg Raymer. Though he's physically built like a poker player (don't ask, but think about all that sitting), he seems a sharp contrast to last year's big winner Chris Moneymaker. Raymer is an attorney from nearby Stonington. He's well spoken and seems well liked. And, he plays at Pokerstars and Foxwoods Casino - the two main places I play... just for a whole lot more money.

Steffie was born 17 years ago today. I remember Helaine telling me to come right home after the newscast. She knew the time was right.

Earlier in the day Helaine had gotten out of the house as the exterminator did his thing. She stooped in our tiny front yard in Branford, planting impatiens. I couldn't figure out how she was doing it. I still can't

Now, with me home, she was getting ready to call the obstetrician. He listened to her signs and told her, "not yet." We turned on the TV.

I'm not sure if every program on "Nick at Nite" that night was the Mary Tyler Moore Show, but it seemed that way. We sat and watched and wondered. Even if Helaine would have seen a foot sticking out of her, she wouldn't have called the doctor back. Luckily, she didn't have to.

Somewhere in the middle of the night the phone rang. It was the doctor. Go to the hospital - they'll be waiting.

Helaine was having moderately intense contractions by this time (who am I to say they're moderate - let's face it, if guys had contractions, we'd just pass out on the spot). Branford was deserted, as was I-95 and Route 34. I ran the only red light I hit... not because we had to, but because my wife was having a baby. It was my right to do as I wished on the road.

I'm not going to go into details about what happened when we got to the hospital. That's not because it was gory or bad, but because Helaine has worked it into a stand-up comedy routine worthy of 6 minutes on Letterman. Least it to say, Helaine feels the receptionist was more interested in my celebrity than her pregnancy.

Labor was not easy for Helaine. I believe Steffie was auditioning for Cirque du Soleil in there - twisting and turning and getting caught up in her own umbilical cord. It was very scary as doctors and nurses scurried around and prepared Helaine for the emergency C-section they never had to perform.

It wasn't until mid afternoon that Steffie thought enough was enough, and out she came. She was, and still is beautiful. She was, and still is our baby. This, of course, is a bone of contention between father and daughter.

I know it's difficult for her to understand, at age 17 when it seems she should be a grown-up, but we can still close our eyes and see her wrapped up tight with the little stocking hat (which we still have). I can feel her in my arms as the nurse handed her to me and our feelings of joy and relief that she had ten fingers, ten toes and all the standard equipment.

The photo, the one with me holding Steffie just a few minutes after her birth, is one of my proudest possessions. Of course Helaine did all the hard work, but I get some credit too.

So today is Steffie's day. I just hope she'll take a cue from the Oscars and Emmys and thank the people behind the scenes who made it all possible.

Every family has its traditions and ours is no exception. One of our more recent traditions started three years ago when Steffie decided she'd like to have her birthday dinner at Lenny's in Branford. The fact that Steffie wasn't a seafood lover and Lenny's is a seafood place left us confused at first. But, it was her birthday and her decision.

This year we brought along Steffie's friend Ali. They have known each other since grade school.

Helaine and I have been going to Lennie's since we came to Connecticut. My impression is that Al Blinke (now news director at KDKA in Pittsburgh, but then our assignment editor) led the way and everyone else just followed.

There is probably a Lenny's-like place in every community. It's the kind of restaurant that has grown successful in an organic way, with little planning. No one could put up a restaurant and say, "Let's make it like Lenny's." It is, for the most part, unchanged since I've been going.

They still don't take credit cards, and never took checks. There's now an ATM machine, allowing Lenny to 'sort of' accept credit cards, make money on them, and still be in an all cash business.

Adjacent to a salt marsh in the Indian Neck section of Branford, the parking lot is gravel. It used to be dirt and as I remember was quite nasty after a heavy rain. Now, for the first time, there are lines painted on the gravel. This is a major improvement.

During the summer, on the weekend, you just can't get near the place. It is jammed without fail.

What makes Lenny's is the seafood, especially shellfish - specifically lobster (the photo on the left shows live lobsters - even a box of 5 pounders - squirming around in the freezer). I don't think I've ever ordered anything but the "Shore Dinner" which is corn on the cob, clam chowder (New England or Rhode Island), two clams on the half shell, steamers, a lobster, a huge slice of watermelon and coffee. Helaine gets bisque and fried shrimp. It's always great.

Today, since Helaine had gotten a birthday cake for Steffie, I came off my diet. I'm down 25 pounds, my goal, and have been stuck for a while around 175 pounds. Still, I'll be back on tomorrow.

Being off the diet allowed me to have birthday cake and corn (and some oyster crackers - what the hell).

Earlier, when Steffie had opened her presents, she was happy with every gift. Now, she and we were happy with dinner. It was a great day.

Stefanie's turning 17 was a lot easier on me than I feared it would be.

When we sent Intern Jayne packing to fame and fortune in North Dakota, little did we know what would await her. Today, I received the picture you see below, with this message:

This, from the person who stopped to have her picture taken with said cow! Unfortunately, Jayne didn't include North Dakota's tree in this photo.

Blogger's note: There is a virtual tour of this cow, Salem Sue, available online.

This website, geofffox.com, lives on a server in Chicago (I think). The server is run by a company called hostforweb.com. In essence, I rent a small piece of it.

Over the last few months, the server has been running slowly. You might have noticed it. I certainly did. Lots of what goes on here is controlled by commands I give the server. Often times, I have to sit and wait for the server to respond. W-a-i-t. You get the picture.

I spoke to the hostforweb.com folks and they asked, "Would you like to move to a different server?" Sure - if that will help. But really, who knows, because they don't think this server is particularly slow to begin with.

Anyway, the big move is scheduled for Sunday night. By and large, I should have to do nothing. But, that's never really the case. There will be some sort of loose end or unexpected problem.

I am most concerned about changing my IP address. That's the place where your computer goes to find what you're reading. www.geofffox.com really resolves to 66.225.220.189 - and that number will change.

Will surfers looking for this site be able to find me? Will all my links still work? What haven't I planned for? Will it actually speed the website up? Stay tuned. The answer comes over this weekend.

Matt Scott, who I work with at the TV station, was having problems with his computer. It was running slowly and popping ads. It sounded like a typical adware/spyware/malware infestation. So, I offered to help and he took me up on it.

I brought it home and hooked it up, borrowing all the connections from my Linux machine. Almost immediately, it hung while calling a webpage. My suspicions seemed well founded.

Since I couldn't operate on the web with a browser that was stuck, I burned a CD with Spybot, moved it to Matt's machine and ran it. It found some cookies, and a few other minor annoyances, but nothing that would cause all this trouble.

My friend Peter Mokover (who has asked me to mention his name and put it in bold letters) suggested I clear the browser cache (which was set ridiculously high at 550 MB). Bingo. The browser opened perfectly, but the machine was still pretty slovenly.

I attempted to do a scan disk, but the computer kept writing to the hard disk - each time aborting the scan. I rebooted into 'safe mode' and tried again. There were a bunch of bad sectors - but again, nothing I hadn't seen in the past. As long as I was here, I defragged the system and prepared to 'declare' virtual memory (as opposed to letting Windows 98 do it for you).

I have heard, and I believe, that contiguous virtual memory works better. He had the space, so why not.

As I was entering the system tab within control panel I noticed something that was very strange. The computer was reporting only 32 MB of RAM. I couldn't believe HP would ship a Windows 98 PC with that little RAM, so I went online and looked. It should have had 64 MB. OK - we're getting somewhere.

I opened up the machine and went to look at the 2-RAM sticks inside. If he only had 32 MB, I could throw some old memory I had (and which doesn't work in any of my current machines) to boost it up. I took out the first stick - 256 MB. Uh oh. What's up here? Obviously, it wasn't being seen.

Back on the HP website, I noticed this model, HP Pavilion 8655-C, could only take 256 MB of RAM total, with no stick over 128 MB. Oops. That 256 MB stick, probably an 'upgrade' was taking up a socket and doing nothing.

I pulled both memory sticks and went to install 2 - 128 MB sticks. Oh my God! The memory was under the CDROM drives, squeezed where only part was partially visible and much was hidden. I had to snake my fingers through while balancing a small flashlight on some cables. I wasn't able to reach far enough in to release the far side latch. I would hope it opened, as it should, when I attempted to insert the stick, then close when I applied pressure.

This was a whole lot easier said than done. The RAM didn't want to properly seat. I must have worked on getting the first stick in for a half hour until I looked down and saw red. I had sliced into my knuckle. In fact, by the time I finished getting the RAM installed, I had 6 or 7 little cuts on my fingers and hand.

I'm not sure what HP was thinking when they put this machine on the shelf, but they certainly didn't expect anyone to work on it. The computer must have been assembled from modules, meaning screws holding the CDROM drives were facing down, toward the motherboard, where I couldn't get at them! If I could have moved the drives, the job would have been a snap.

Matt has picked up the machine and hopefully by now it's back on the web and faster than ever. It's just another case of a computer slowing with age - they all do. Luckily, it's always curable.

I love going to New York City. I especially love going to the theater in New York City. With that in mind, this morning I convinced Helaine and Steffie to come to New York with me. The fact that it was raining and chilly didn't make things easy. Not only doesn't Helaine love New York City, she especially dislikes going to New York City and fighting the weather.

It rained all the way in - all 100 or so miles. We got to Manhattan just before 11:00 AM, and plopped the car in a garage on 45th Street. As we waited for the attendant to give me the ticket, a man walked up to me and asked if I remembered him. Oh God - it's my continuing nightmare. I never remember anyone... and this was no exception. And then, he reminded me. He was Eddie Luisi, the floor manager from Good Morning America. I had worked with him many times at TV2, GMA's old studio on the Upper West Side. Together with Patty, his partner in crime on the studio floor, I had been guided effortlessly through the shows. He had moved, with the show, to the Times Square studio.

I'm not sure if I can explain how important and reassuring good direction and cues from the person with the headset is. Least it to say, they're lucky to have him. Filling in at GMA was something I genuinely enjoyed and looked forward to. Working with a full crew (a luxury no longer afforded to those of us in local television) added to the fun.

We left the garage and headed to TKTS in Duffy Square. Duffy Square is actually a 'square within a square' on the northern end of Times Square. TKTS is run by New York's Theater Development Fund and it's where Broadway shows dump their unsold tickets. At TKTS, the day of a show, you can buy Broadway tickets for half price, plus a small surcharge. Considering the price of show tickets, it's a pretty good deal. We've never gotten bad seats from TKTS - most theaters are small enough that bad seats don't exist.

Of course today buying at TKTS meant standing, in the rain, in Duffy Square. The rain actually kept the crowds down, so our wait in line was under a half hour.

We decided on tickets for "Sly Fox" playing at the Ethel Barrymore Theater on 47th Street. As with too much on Broadway, this was a revival. The original incarnation opened on Broadway in 1976.

I fished the money from my wallet (cash only at TKTS) and we were on our way. The show started at 3:00 PM, but first there was shopping to be done.

Getting around Manhattan isn't all that difficult, if you're willing to take the subway. I've done it my whole life and find it easy and convenient. Now, in the post-token, Metrocard era, I took out my Visa card, and bought a 6 rides for the price of 5 ticket. Total cost: $10.

We hopped on a downtown "R" train at 49th Street. The trip to Canal Street on the Lower East Side couldn't have taken more than 10-15 minutes with no change of trains. There were plenty of seats and the train was reasonably clean.

The rain had tapered off to occasional sprinkles as we emerged from the subway. Steffie pointed the way and we began to walk. At this point Helaine and I were along for the ride. Steffie wanted some things, but we were just window shopping. Sure, if I saw a particularly interesting computer book (they sell them at half price) or a spectacular watch (my collection of knock off watches is nearly complete, I'm afraid), I'd buy. Mostly, I'd be taking photos.

As Steffie has pointed out on numerous occasions, I've taken pictures on Canal Street dozens of times. There's little left for me to shoot. She's correct. I shoot anyway. It's a disease - there's little I can do.

Steffie bought a bag, hat and shoes. Helaine and I chaperoned. We were done with time to spare.

By the way... if someone asks what the next hot thing is, based on my quick perusal of Canal Street, I'd have to say 'electric bubble guns.'

We plopped down the nearest subway stairs and found ourselves on a line that wasn't going to our destination in Times Square. No problem - transfers are free. We rode north to 14th Street, got off and began to follow the signs from the numbered train we were on ("6") to a lettered line ("N"). This was an IRT to BMT transfer, but using those terms only goes to show my age.

As we started to make our way through the mezzanine level, I noticed a crowd had formed. It looked like people were taking photos. I assumed there was an underground performer attracting the attention. The subways are loaded with musicians.

As we approached, there was no performer to be seen, but everyone seemed to have a camera.

I asked a women with a 'prosumer' Canon camcorder what was going on and she said it was a protest of pending rules from the Transit Authority. When I was a kid, it was illegal to take pictures in the subway. Later, that rule was eliminated. Now, in post-9/11 New York City, reinstatement is being considered. Will the subways be any safer if tourists from Dubuque (or, I suppose Dubai) can't document the trip? I can't say.

I moved to the edge of the passageway to get shots of the other photographers getting shots. Two New York City police officers asked me what was going on! What kind of protest is it when those you are protesting against don't know why you're there?

A few minutes later, we were back at 49th Street. It was much too early to go to the theater so we went to Starbucks to take advantage of a gift card Steffie had received (from us, actually). Starbucks is probably the world's most popular coffee shop, but not because of me. I find their coffee much too strong, often to the point of tasting bitter.

Helaine and Steffie had one of Starbucks specialty drinks, and after finishing Helaine realized there might be a problem. She's lactose intolerant (as opposed to me who is just plain intolerant) and was now worried this drink was full of diary products! We searched for a drugstore.

While Helaine and Steffie went inside, I sat back and took some pictures of a street preacher. Armed with a microphone and portable PA, he paced the wide sidewalk on this section of Broadway, speaking to everyone but getting little positive response... actually, little response of any type.

By the time we got to the theater, it was nearly time for the curtain. I knew "Sly Fox" starred Richard Dreyfuss, but it wasn't until we got to the theater and looked at the Playbill that we realized this show was loaded with 'names.'

Of all these, I was most excited to be seeing Professor Irwin Corey! OK - I was surprised he was alive, that's part of it. Irwin Corey made a career of being "The World's Greatest Authority." The subject of the knowledge he was an authority in was never revealed. He was a master of double talk - maybe the master. I doubt I have seen him professionally in 30 years.

The show, a comedy about greed set in 19th century San Fransisco was OK, but never really scored. This is not to say any of the actors lacked. I just never thought the show delivered on its comedic promise. Helaine liked it more than I did. Steffie didn't seem to like it much at all.

I took a look back to see what Ben Brantley thought when it premiered in April.

The full review wasn't quite as bad as that quote - but not that much better either. I am still glad we went. Even a mediocre Broadway show is great entertainment. And, the Broadway theater experience can only be gotten in New York City - not from a touring company.

Our day in Manhattan was still incomplete, so we headed up 7th Avenue to the Stage Deli. Though I'm still on a low carb regimen, I didn't think the two slices of bread that make up one of their killer sandwiches would do too much harm. A Stage Deli sandwich (and sandwiches from its arch rival the Carnegie Deli, up the block) is as thick as the Manhattan Yellow Pages. I finished it all!

We picked up our car, headed west toward the Hudson, and ran into horrendous traffic on 46th Street. It was Tony night, but that was in the opposite direction. There seemed to be no obvious reason - not on a Sunday evening, long after the matinées had let out. Then, as we approached 8th Avenue we realized what was going on. Two oversized stretch limos stood at the curb, near the theater where Rain in the Sun is playing. On both sides of the street a crowd had gathered. People were waiting for P. Diddy to make an appearance.

We squeezed by, headed to the West Side Highway and turned north, toward home.

Blogger's note: I found Professor Irwin Corey's website and email address online and sent him this note:

Yesterday, when we drove to New York City, I had an opportunity to use my E-ZPass. This is one of God's chosen inventions. Tie-ups at toll booths still happen, but nowhere near as frequently, nor with as long a wait as before. Often, with my E-ZPass, I zip through while cash customers vegetate in line.

The whole idea of E-ZPass got me to thinking about logical extensions. E-ZPass is just the first step in what will be a long list of changes brought about by RFID technology. RFID for Radio Frequency IDentification.

If your credit card had an RFID chip, like the E-ZPass, and every item in the grocery store was also tagged, there would be no need for a checkout line. Walk through the store, throw stuff in your basket, walk through a sensor and everything's calculated and charged to your card. There's no need to slow down.

Stores want this technology. They'll have more selling space without registers and lines. There will also be fewer employees. Unfortunately, every time a human can be replaced by a machine, it's bye bye human. We really can't compete... and if we complain... well that's part of why the machine wins in the first place.

There are scary downsides to RFID technology as well. I suppose the New Jersey Turnpike Authority could look at your E-ZPass check in and check out time, calculate the distance divided by time and decide if you should get a speeding ticket. E-ZPass says this won't happen, but the concept can be adapted.

If you carry articles, like a credit card with RFID tags, your whereabouts could easily be tracked. I'm not doing anything nefarious or illegal, but I'd still be upset if anyone had the ability to pinpoint me 24/7.

Wal*Mart has recently instructed its largest suppliers to begin using RFIDs. They are still somewhat expensive, but with volume prices will come down.

The supermarket with no checkout line is coming, probably sooner rather than later.

Sunday evening, playing poker on the laptop, I first noticed the problem. My Internet connection would stop for a few seconds - sometimes 10s of seconds - before resuming. The poker site I play at allows you to check the connection of the others at your table. They were fine, I was not.

Comcast has been very dependable. So, I did nothing, figuring all would be well on Monday morning. Guess again.

Helaine asked me what was going on. Her connection was slow. Steffie later chimed in with the same complaint. "The Internet is sketchy," she said.

Between the three of us we spend an awful lot of time online and we're spoiled with reasonably fast connections. This was totally unacceptable.

I decided to call Comcast when I came home from dinner. I worked my way through the phone tree (press 1, press 2, press 1 again). My hold time was somewhere around 10 wasted minutes.

On hold systems have two options:
1) Incessant announcements (which drive you nuts when you start hearing them the fifth, sixth, twentieth time).
2) No announcements, just a little light elevator music. That was Comcast's choice and it's really not much better.

While on hold I wondered if I was really in the queue? Maybe I'd be listening to these European studio musicians for the rest of my natural life!

A pleasant sounding woman, from Central Ontario it turned out, answered the call. She made me jump all the usual hoops - reboot, unplug, replug, etc. She could see there was a problem with packet loss and offered to send a service tech, but the system wouldn't let her schedule one. Could I call back later?

After work, and on whisper mode with Helaine asleep in the next room, I dialed Comcast again. As I was waiting for a live person, I scooted over to DSLreports.com to see if anyone else had reported this trouble. The Comcast Connecticut thread was four pages long! I had plenty of company.

This time a Canadian guy (I didn't ask if he was Canadian - but I worked in Buffalo, just across the Niagara River from Canada and know their regionalisms, eh) picked up. He started to do his dance and talk about sending a technician to the house, but I stopped him.

The problem isn't here, in my house. It's far away at some router. I even know the router's address: 12.125.51.34. It's owned by AT&T and probably serves as Comcast's connection from Connecticut to the Internet in general.

If I know this, why doesn't Comcast's tech support guy? Why spend money and send technicians when there's no problem they'll fix? Why not tell me loads of others have reported problems, we're working on it?

If I asked someone high up at Comcast whether they wanted this fixed right away and wanted their customers informed, I'm sure the answer would be yes. They want the best possible result spending the least amount of money. Yet their actions show there's a disconnect between what would benefit them and their customers and what they're delivering. And, they might not know this customer service problem even exists.

There is no one served by what went on tonight. Not me. Not Comcast. Their phone people were polite and pleasant but never even brought me one step closer to satisfaction.

I really don't want to have to call back on this tomorrow.

I visited the allergist this morning. I see him to get my antihistamine prescription. He doesn't really do anything during these appointments - just gives me the script for the drugs. It's a fair bargain because without the pills I'd swell up like a balloon in Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade!

I'm telling you about the appointment to justify the fact that I was in bed and asleep at 1:30 PM when the station called. Would I do the weather live from... well, we're not sure where, but come casually dressed.

I am glad when they call ahead so I can come properly attired. It is funny when I'm asked 'if' I can do it. I really don't have much choice, do I? Of course, I'd never say no, even if I could, because I usually enjoy live shots.

Today, with Connecticut temperatures punching through the 90 degree mark inland, and mid-80s on the shoreline, I was sent to East Rock Park. I'm sure I've written about this natural wonder before. It is a sheer rock cliff which towers over New Haven Harbor. It was left in place as the last ice age retreated.

Today, it was a place of cool relief, with a nice seabreeze. The view, often spectacular, was reduced to almost acceptable by the haze and schmutz that warm temperatures and sunlight bring.

Live shots like this are a crapshoot. You never know who or what you'll find. I like to think of myself as resourceful in these situations because I always grab something or someone to use as a prop.

When I arrived on the 'Rock' there was a man with his Harley. I asked if I could borrow it, and he agreed. My guess is, if I would have asked to be allowed to ride it on TV he would have agreed. I don't look like the biker type, which lent to the fun. I am embarrassed to say I called it a bicycle once! I caught myself, but the damage (such as it was) had already been done.

Later I corralled a man and his two granddaughters, aged 1 and 3. I like little kids because they aren't self conscious and don't get nervous about, or overthink, the process of being on TV. I was going to speak to the 3 year old. She wasn't overly verbal when we spoke before going on, so I decided to let her see herself on TV and hoped for a reaction. It worked wonderfully.

As we went on, she pointed at herself and tapped me on the leg to make sure I saw. She was precious. She didn't have to say much to be adorable.

It is important to have fun with, and not at the expense of, the people you're with. That can be a fine line. I don't want to come off as a smart ass, which is what would happen if I took advantage of the interviewee's naiveté.

At 6:00 PM I found a man from India, visiting his son who had just graduated with an MBA from Yale. He too also nearly perfect. We talked for a few seconds (and that's how long these things usually last) contrasting what people in Connecticut think is hot and sweaty with summertime in Delhi, where he lives!

You can't overproduce these live shots. You shouldn't bring people into the mix too early, or they'll have too much time to think about what's going on. You must be a reassuring influence to put your guest at total ease - which is when you get the best TV. I often find my arm around the person I'm speaking to. It's a further reassurance to them.

In the past, I have completed an on-the-air segment with a person off the street only to have them turn to me and ask, "When are we going on?" That's success.

I am at work but just spoke to Helaine. She says the cable modem is now totally unusable. I ran a test on dslreports.com which visually confirms what she's seeing.

She asked that I call Comcast. After waiting on hold for 15 minutes (tonight they do have an announcement every few seconds telling me my call is important... though not important enough to staff the place with enough operators) I got a customer service rep.

Yes, they know they have a problem. Yes, it's a Cisco router - somewhere local in Connecticut. They're expecting it... no it's there. They're installing it and it should be back to normal late tonight or early tomorrow.

Stay tuned.

When I came home from work cable modem service was back to normal. Phew.

Even a few days ago, today looked like it would be a thunderstorm day. Lots of heat and humidity, a cold front approaching from the northwest, negative lifted index numbers (a very telling severe weather parameter). Movement from the northwest is the 'favored' direction for severe weather here in Connecticut.

As I type this, there's a Severe Thunderstorm Watch in effect for Litchfield County (far Northwestern Connecticut) and I wouldn't be surprised to see it expanded later. Even without the watch there will be more thunderstorms late tonight throughout the state.

I've got one eye on the radar and the other scanning the watches and warnings popping up from the Weather Service. I'll have to be more thoughtful than usual tonight in making decisions to break into programming, since we'd be breaking into ceremonies for President Reagan, not a sitcom or reality show. I understand the solemnity in this event.

I hate severe weather, which isolates me from many of my peers. There's a weather oriented bulletin board I read from time-to-time. I constantly see meteorologists begging for storms (not that we can affect the outcome!

Have fun!

Let me translate a little. MCI is Kansas City (in the same way LAX is Los Angeles and JFK is New York). LI is the previously mentioned lifted index. Sweat and SREH are two more severe weather forecast parameters. Most importantly, this guy wants to be there. And, he along with others, root for stronger storms! FSU is a forecaster who graduated from Florida State University.

Am I missing something? Won't this stuff injure or even kill people? Property and business will be lost. People near the severe weather will be frightened.

News anchors don't hope for a murder or fire so they can have a more compelling lead (at least I don't think they do). Why are weather people so different?

No matter how long I work in this field I'll never understand why some of my contemporaries are hoping for the worst. It's just weird.

I have been dieting for months now. It hasn't been easy and I haven't been 100% dedicated - but I've been very good. The first week the weight just fell off. As time progressed my weight loss slowed down. For the past 2-3 weeks, I've been pretty much stuck at 176. Sometimes it's a pound up, sometimes a pound down.

I have been told, probably a million times, I shouldn't weigh myself every day. Good luck. Of course I weigh myself. I want instant gratification. And, it's distressing that there's so little of that now. Still, I'm dedicated to task.

It's likely that I'm at my lowest weight in 10 years, maybe more. Getting married and having Helaine cook on a regular basis was my first step toward putting on weight. After Steffie began to eat solid food, she often would eat less that was served. As a good daddy, I finished it for her!

I discovered the Atkins Diet four years ago. My first time on, I got pretty close to where I am now. Then, of course, I went off and porked up. It's a diet, after all, not immunization against weight gain.

Though I haven't been as consistent as Helaine would like me to be (and as always, she's right), I have been spending time on the treadmill. I don't think it's made any difference in the weight loss program. It is probably making me healthier - though when I'm done walking/running I do feel like I'm going to die.

Recently I've gotten some email from viewers commenting on my weight loss. Even my mom who only gets to see me on the streaming Internet forecasts on my station's website, noticed it and commented. This is all very encouraging.

If you know someone who's on a diet - let them know you notice. It really helps.

What has made the diet so much easier now is the addition of low carb wraps at Subway. Hey - I don't want to do a commercial for these folks, but they have definitely been a huge factor for me. I buzz over to our local Subway and Dave makes me a Chicken - Bacon wrap with double chicken. It's very filling. I have him load it up with all the veggies they have (which adds some carbohydrates that I shouldn't be getting and aren't calculated in their 8 grams of carbohydrates claim).

Helaine also keeps the house stocked with low carb treats. Don't underestimate how important that is - and expensive. Atkins and South Beach are both based on the priciest items at the grocery store!

We're going on vacation in July. I will stay on the diet until we go and then have fun on vacation. Hopefully, I'll make amends when we return. Meanwhile, it's nice having suits fit a little loosely and wearing polo shirts tucked in.

My luck with Slashdot has not been good recently. I had a bunch of my earliest submissions accepted and began to think it was easy to get on. No such luck. Since February I have had 15 in a row rejected.

I really don't want to give up, because Slashdot, like no other website, is 'geek confirmation.'

Today, I tried again. Since (judging by my track record) it probably won't get on, I thought I'd post it here too. The links are worth clicking.

Tonight, I've been transferring some videocassettes to DVD. It's a time consuming process - more alchemy than anything else. This is well out of the realm of standard procedure. I've learned it all through trial and error and more error.

I capture the video as avi files and then convert them to mpeg. The specifics of those two aren't important, except to say they're different. Same with the resolution. My video capture card wants to give me 640x480 while DVD's play video that's 720 pixels wide. Again, all that's important are they're different.

In order to go from one format to another, one resolution to another, my computer has to do massive amounts of number crunching. I just popped open my Task Manager a few seconds ago. The computer's CPU, its brain, is running at 100%.

There's nothing wrong with that. I want my computer to work as fast as it can.

However, something else has changed while this crunching has been underway. The temperature of the CPU has gone from 143° to 154°. That's not critical, but it certainly gives me a little pause. I believe the CPU can hit about 176° before it starts smoking and breaks down (Actually, the number is probably higher than that. 176° is just the specification).

So, what's going on? I don't really know, and a search of Google hasn't been very fruitful. I think this might frictional heat caused by the additional electrons necessary to really number crunch. But, I could be very wrong.

No matter what, it is very curious that computers heat up when they work hard, as humans do. It is something I would have never expected.

When I look at the logs for this website, I can often see what brought readers here. Sometimes it's a bookmark or a link from another site (I am always grateful when others link to this site - though, as you see, I don't have permanent links to other blogs here). Many times, it's a search engine leading folks here.

Just to give you an idea, so far in June Google has sucked down 26.5 MB of bandwidth as it indexes this site. MSN, whose search engine is just ramping up, has pulled down over 100 MB! Nearly 1,300 visitors in these 11 days of June have come from search engines. At the moment, Google brings in 3 times as many readers as Yahoo, 10 times as many as MSN.

If you come from a search engine, like Google or Yahoo, the actual search query you entered is logged for me and it's often fascinating info. For the past few months, many strangers have come here because of things I've written, or photography I've posted, about John Mayer and his road manager Scotty Crowe (Scotty has many fewer web citations, so I come up very high on a search for his name). They have been the 1 & 2 most popular search terms for months.

Now, joining them on the hit parade is "Carrot Top Shirtless."

I don't which is scarier - people are looking for Carrot Top - shirtless, or the fact that there's content in my blog that makes geofffox.com show up in the search... in the second spot on Google!

I went to Hudson, NY this afternoon to see one of my oldest, best friends. I'll write about that later. Before I left, I showed Helaine an area on Pokerstars where there are 'free' satellite tournaments.

OK - two terms to clarify.

When I say 'free,' I mean you use points to play. These points are accrued as you play real money games. Since we've never touched our points, there were thousands in our account.

Satellite means a tournament which has a seat in another tournament as the prize. The satellite I showed Helaine cost 500 points, had 27 players, and paid the winner (only one winner) a $200 + $15 seat in a Sunday tournament.

What makes Sunday's tournament so interesting is the total payout is guaranteed at $250,000+. The first place winner will make at least $56,000.

As of this moment, Helaine says there's too much pressure for her to play. I'm not sure I feel any different. The tournament starts tomorrow at 4:30 PM.

With over 1,000 players expected, more than likely we'll get nothing. But, the big question is which one of us will play?

One of my submissions made Slashdot last night at 11:00 PM. None of my pages were linked in the story, but this homepage was listed below my name. I am surprised to only get 123 visitors because of it.

They were 'hungry' visitors - each taking more bandwidth and viewing more pages than average.

I still have one story 'pending' with Slashdot. I'll keep my eye on the results if and when it gets published.

A few months ago, I wrote to Carolyn Porco, Cassini Imaging Team Leader, CICLOPS/Space Science Institute. Helluva title.

Cassini is an amazing satellite mission to Saturn. It will bring pictures unlike those we've ever seen before. But, as is so often the case in space, you launch it and then twiddle your thumbs for years - seven years in this case. Saturn is a distance and Cassini isn't flying in a straight line.

Little did I know that writing to Carolyn would put me on their mailing list. Usually, I'd wince at something like that. But this list has been great fun to read, because I got on at the right time, as Cassini began to approach Saturn.

Last month there was a picture of the planet, filling the entire screen. From this point on Cassini would be too close to Saturn to get more than a partial view. Everything would be closer and in greater detail, including visits to the moons and a transit through Saturn's ring system.

Then the cameras starting pointing toward Phoebe, a Connecticut sized rock which circles Saturn in the opposite direction from all its other moons! It's thought that maybe Phoebe was an asteroid or comet or some intergalactic interloper that got caught in Saturn's magnetic field and was, in essence, captured.

Very impressive and probably worth seven years of twiddling.

All the photos on this page, and lots of parade pictures, can be seen in my photo gallery.

Back in 1969, when I got my first paid on-air radio job in Fall River, Massachusetts at WSAR (Ahoy there matey, it's 14-80) I met Skippy Ross - a fellow disk jockey. He was older, wiser, married, and the station's music director. We became friends.

Later, in 1971, I went to WBT in Charlotte, NC. Skippy was already there... he just wasn't Skippy anymore. In Worcester, MA he had become Skip Tyler and now he was Bob Lacey.

For nearly 35 years he has been Bob Lacey, working at the radio and television stations at 1 Julian Price Place, and becoming a Charlotte institution. He and his partner, Sheri Lynch run a woman friendly¹ morning drive radio show, syndicated across the country.

Bob and I have remained friends through all this time. When my life was falling apart in the mid-70s, Bob took time off and drove with me through the Western United States. We have shared good times and bad longer than most married couples - and with a better relationship.

On-the-air Bob refers to me as his 'gold best friend.' It's an honor I treasure.

We are two very different people. I think the difference can be best explained in a little story. The year was 1973 and I was leaving Charlotte, moving to Cleveland (based, as it turns out, on bad information from someone who wanted me to leave). It was my last day there and I was getting a new tire put on my car. Bob joined me at the tire store on Independence Boulevard, a busy Charlotte business district back then.

We went to the Coke machine. Bob went first. His soda plopped from the slot, he put the bottle into the opened, pushed down and was ready to drink. I got my bottle, went to the opener, pushed down and... soda all over me. It was as if a midget was in the machine, waiting for me to shake the bottle.

To me, Bob has always seems suave and in control. I have always seemed like an unmade bed - scattered and kinetic.

We are both lucky, because in spite of setbacks in our lives, we've done well - both with our careers and families. And, for two old guys (and he is much older and very, very short... make that very, very, very short) we've aged well.

I was on the phone with Bob late last week. It was the usual chit chat. I asked him what he was doing over the weekend and he told me he and Sheri (his radio partner) were flying to Hudson, NY for Flag Day. There's a parade, which they ride in, the emcee from the reviewing stand.

Hudson is a few hours from here - a nice drive if it's a nice day. There's some highway to take you away from the urban areas and then it's small, sparsely traveled 2-lane roads through rolling hills. The trip goes up through Northwest Connecticut, cuts through the Southwest corner of Massachusetts and then west into New York and the Hudson River.

I decided to go.

Since I knew neither Helaine nor Stefanie would want to take this road trip, I prepared a geek's journey. My camera was ready with two sets of batteries and two flash memory cards (I could have taken 350 high resolution photos, but only took 273). I put my old Dell laptop on the passenger's seat, plugged an inverter into the cigarette lighter and threw a GPS antenna onto the armrest between the seats. This trip would be well documented.

The trip up was uneventful. The weather superb - truly perfect. Though I had printed directions before leaving the house, the GPS receiver was really helpful, showing me my turns before I got to them.

With the top down, on a sunny day, there are lots of sensations. The warmth of the sun (I was worried about the warmth of the sun on my laptop, which I removed from the seat and put on the floor while still in Connecticut), the breeze, the aroma.

Springtime has good aromas. There weren't many restaurants to pass at this time of day on this route. I did smell freshly cut grass (a watermelon-like smell), freshly cut lumber (as I passed a mill) and a dairy farm. They were all distinct, but the dairy farm was certainly the most pungent.

I have a radar detector mounted in the convertible. When I first bought the car, I had electricity brought from an interior light directly to the unit. It only went off once on the trip, and then because a police car was going the opposite direction and must have had his transmitter on.

By the time I got to Hudson, the streets downtown were closed off for the parade. This was a bigger deal than I thought - and as I'd later find out the longest parade I'd ever seen.

The main street of Hudson, Warren Street, was lined with happy people. For some reason I expected this to be a lily white town. That was not the case. There was just about every shade of person imaginable, and they were all out on the street together ready for the parade.

It seems like Hudson is a town that was, and possibly still is, down on its luck. I walked on cracked sidewalks with tall weeds growing through them. There were small houses with chipped paint. On Warren Street itself the homes were old but freshly painted. It had the aura of gentrification - a two edged sword which rebuilds and displaces.

I moved toward the river, where the reviewing stand had been erected, and waited for Bob and Sheri. They arrived, first in the parade, sitting in a convertible. It is only now, looking at the photo, that I realize it is a used car, for sale, with the price tag nicely affixed to the windshield. Still, it looked great rolling down Warren Street, and Bob and Sheri were enjoying every second of it.

We chatted for a few seconds and then they made their way to the microphone and the parade began. It was a bad day to have a fire in the Hudson Valley, because I believe every piece of fire equipment for a hundred miles was rolling down Warren Street - even a blue fire truck from Philmont, NY! Along with the fire equipment there were policemen and soldiers and and organizations, plus kid from schools and sports leagues.

This was the longest parade I had ever seen. As we approached the 3 hour mark, I turned to a policeman standing near me and asked, "Are they going around for a second time?"

There was a sad moment. A float in memory of a local soldier who had been killed in Iraq. The base of the float was full of American flags - one for each death in this war. In a glass case, the soldier's uniform was displayed. Very, very sad.

The parade ended and Bob, Sheri and I hopped onto a golf cart to head down to the riverside where the festivities would continue. The scene was very much like those beeping carts that careen through the terminals at airports, taking people with more pull than us to the next gate.

It was getting late. I had a drive ahead of me. They had autographs and then a plane ride back to Charlotte. We'd all get home around the same time.

I wish I could have spent more time with Bob, and with Sheri who I like a lot. Bob and I are already trying to figure out a time for next summer. But maybe there will be time sooner.

The good thing about gold friends is, their friendship will wait.

¹ - When I say woman friendly, I mean a show which is not based on sex, bodily functions and stretching the vocabulary envelope. Stern, Imus and Bubba the Love Sponge don't qualify for this genre.

All the photos on this page, and lots of parade pictures, can be seen in my photo gallery.

Recently, I read online where Microsoft was giving away free copies of Visual Basic.Net. VB is a programming language for Windows computers. I think, though I don't know, Microsoft is giving this away because its use on the Internet requires using a Microsoft powered web server The web server business is one place where Microsoft has been hurt by Linux - hurt badly.

Visual Basic .Net came on a set of CDROMs. This afternoon, before leaving for work, I decided to install them. Oh my God! My installation took close to 2 hours. I sat and watched as registry change after registry change and file after file was loaded onto my machine.

Finally, it was time to go to work - but the process wasn't complete. Helaine finished it up (calling me as she read off the screen).

I think, based on what I read on the screen, I have just given up 3 gb of hard drive space for this.

But, if it works out, and if I can learn what I've been told is a pretty straightforward language, I'd like to write some Windows applications which manipulate weather data from the net.

I hope I haven't bit off more than I can chew.

Over the past few months, and more so recently, I have renewed my friendship with my cousin. That's not a big deal in most families. My family is very small.

My dad is one of three children, my mother two. Much of my mother's extended family never made it through World War II. I shudder to think of their fate.

I have one sister and she has three children. None of us live near each other.

My sister's in Wisconsin - her children away at school most of the year. My folks are in Florida, living the 'Club Med for Seniors' lifestyle. Uncle Murray is still in Queens, New York - but his children are in Maryland, Florida and California. You get the point.

And then, there are the relatives I don't speak with. I won't go into it here, but it's my guess every family has its dysfunctionality. Us too.

Cousin Michael was among my closest friends growing up. Through our late teens, in the late 60's, we were together all the time traveling with friends to Manhattan on Friday's and Saturday's to see rock acts at the Village Theater (aka Fillmore East).

Michael was there when I saw Grateful Dead and Moby Grape on the bill with the Joshua Light Show. For a few bucks we saw dozens of shows in that ratty old theater with torn seats on the Lower East Side.

I remember summer evenings with Michael and our friend Larry, taking the subway to Greenwich Village and then walking down McDougall Street past the record stores and head shops. Sometimes stopping at Blimpies for a meal.

In those politically charged years we talked lots of politics. The Vietnam War was raging, and we were of the age to worry about being asked to go there, Michael, who was bolder than I, was much more active. We were all opinionated.

When I left for college, and then a few years later moved to Florida, we drifted apart. It's only now that I am hearing about what he did during those years. His life would make a pretty compelling book. It would be interesting as fiction - but as a true life tale, it's fascinating, spiced with familiar names in unfamiliar surroundings.

Michael's life is very different now. He and his wife Melissa, and their son Max, live on the West Coast. Over the years, Michael mastered the art of education, and has all manner and form of degrees. A few weeks ago he added a PhD to his collection.

I think being married and having a child has been really good for Michael. I'm confident Michael is good for them too.

Recently, Michael and I have been spending more time together on the phone. It's a shame he lives so far away. I get the better of the deal, calling when my minutes are free - and his probably not.

He is intellectual and analytical a good conversationalist and good sounding board. It's a shame we lost so many years of friendship.

He, Melissa and Max will be joining us for vacation this summer. I'm looking forward to seeing them again. Las Vegas is not Greenwich Village. Though maybe, in 2004, we go to Las Vegas for the same reasons we went to Greenwich Village. I'm sure we'll have this discussion later.

A piece of email just flew in. Popfile, my mail filter, saw it as spam and relegated it to the spam bin (which I still quickly check a few times a day). As I clicked the button to delete it, I realized I had seen the word "TransitStore" on the subject line.

I fished it out of the delete folder.

The New York City Transit Authority has recently retired the rust red subway cars which made the trip from Times Square to Main Street Flushing on the "7" line. Called "Redbirds," these cars were among the best ever bought by the NYCTA. They didn't break down a lot and aged much more gracefully than earlier or later models.

Originally bought to spruce up the line for the New York World's Fair in 1964, they survived nearly 40 years. Imagine driving a 1964 car on the streets today - a car that was in use around the clock 7 days a week. It's an accomplishment.

I've taken hundreds of trips on the "7." It wasn't my first choice when going to school, but was often my transport into Manhattan. With two local and one express track, it managed to be local only at the hours I wanted to ride. It was built as the city was changing the named streets of Queens to numbered streets. Stations are named for streets that haven't been around since the depression.

With the cars out of service, and probably waiting to become an undersea reef somewhere, individual pieces have been removed and are now for sale. That's what the email was touting.

I started to write this blog entry, looking at the memorabilia, when Helaine walked in. Why don't I get something, she said. I had never thought to do anything more than longingly browse.

I've made the order.

The front destination sash, which says Times Square - but should also say Willets Point/Shea Stadium, World's Fair, Main Street Flushing and a few other points from my past should soon be here. It won't mean much to Helaine and Steffie, but for me, it's a big deal. I've silently wanted one of these for at least 45 years.

Along with dieting, I had promised Helaine that I'd spend time exercising. Exercise is something I have successfully avoided my entire life.

I am not an athlete. When I was a kid, and sides were being chosen for punchball (In Flushing, a hugely popular baseball derivative played with a hollow pink rubber ball), everyone hoped for an odd number of kids so I wouldn't have to play. Even I knew my limitations.

The older I got, the more sedentary I became. That's probably true of most adults. I know I should exercise, but... well, if it was fun, everyone would do it - me included. Plus, there are other more important things to do.

OK - I pretty much felt anything was more important. Look, it's a new Ron Popeil infomercial.

But, as I said, I promised. So, over the past few weeks I have been hitting the treadmill. I had written here on the blog that when I finished, rather than feeling better, I felt like I was going to die. I got an email from my physician, Steve. He had read the blog and told me how wrong I was.

Sometimes I hate the truth.

OK - I hear you all. I'm trying. Honest I am. At least 3-4 times a week I'm moving my legs, sweating like a pig, feeling like George Jetson over the closing credits.

I haven't increased the time I spend on the treadmill, but I have increased the time I spend sprinting. A few days ago, while going for coffee, I picked up the sidewalk pace and was surprised to not be winded. In fact I am sure I have more stamina when jogging on the treadmill than I did when I started.

Is this life extension? Who knows. There are statistics that say it should be, but individuals don't live statistical averages. Our lives are comprised of what scientists call anecdotal incidents, each of which could easily diverge from the average.

What I'm saying is, if I keel over from all this exercising I'll really be upset.

Blogger's note: I am now down to 174 pounds. I have passed my weightloss goal, but will continue at least until our July vacation.

I took Helaine and Steffie to see Rick Springfield last night. It was all part of the WTIC-FM Second Chance Prom. We had a chance to dress up and go out.

By the time we got home, I was already half asleep. Now, I've got to rush to work to produce the package we shot last night. Least it to say, I do have some stories to tell. Still, I'm feeling guilty that I missed a day on the blog and will have to wait until late today to post a meaningful entry.

Helaine said it was the 4th best day of her life (dinner with Rick and band).

Tonight, between shows, I'll try and get it into the blog - honest I will.

As a married man, I understand there are certain things I should do for my wife (just as there are certain things she should do for me). A marriage is a partnership and you want your partner happy.

That's why I scheduled a vacation day for Thursday, the date of the WTIC-FM Second Chance Prom. It's not that either of us wanted to go to a prom (neither of us did the first time around - though only one of us was a social misfit while in high school... guess which of us it was). It had more to do with the entertainment - Rick Springfield.

If you're a regular reader of the blog you know Helaine is a bit obsessed (though in a perfectly fine way) with him. A fan for 30 years, she is the leader of his New York City Area Street Team - a grassroots promotional organization that's probably more responsible than any paid promotion for whatever success his latest CD and single have had.

I consider Rick Springfield a dot-com success story. With little airplay or promotion he is still able to sell out midsized venues across the country. His fan websites, run by the fans themselves, have an incredibly loyal base of users. Many of them think nothing of driving hundreds of miles to see him again and again.

From my perspective, it's fascinating. And, it's a method of success (and make no mistake about it - he is a success today) that didn't exist until the advent of the Internet.

As long as I was going, and to make my wife a little happier, I offered to produce a story for the station. We'll run on our Sunday morning news show which has a slot for celebrity interviews. Of course I was upfront in my reasons for wanting to do the story.

Thursday afternoon, Helaine, Steffie and I headed out to the Radisson in Cromwell (nice hotel - good sized room - plenty of towels). Since the prom was 21+, and Steffie is 17+, we got a room and checked in. I met up with Ronnie, Rick's road manager, setting up the specifics of the interview. In many ways, Ronnie reminds me of Arthur (Rip Torn's character) from the Larry Sanders Show.

By 3:30 PM Andy, my photographer, had arrived. We scouted out a vacant meeting room, borrowed a few balloon arrangements from the prom, and set up. The background wouldn't look so sparse with the balloons.

Rick came down and we were ready to go. We talked about 15 minutes. I tried to avoid asking him about Jessie's Girl - only because I had heard it asked every time I'd heard him interviewed... and every interviewer misunderstood the actual meaning of the song - how he wished that he had Jessie's girl. But we talked about the Internet fans and Street Team and his new CD.

The interview went well. He opened up and answered thoughtfully. I couldn't have asked for more.

As we got up to walk into the main room for the sound check, Helaine turned to Rick and recounted a story about how, while working in radio in 1981, she had picked up his dinner tab and he had told her the next dinner was on him. Though the statute of limitations on dinner had surely run out, Ronnie asked us to join their group for dinner.

I'm sure I've been to band sound checks before, but I never really thought about the tedium for the band. Each room is different. Often, a different city means different equipment. It always means different acoustics. But a sound check isn't really music as much as it's repetitive note playing.

Dinner was nice. The band was like any bunch of guys, on the road, away from home. Helaine sat between Rick and me. He and I spoke through most of dinner. We talked politics and Iraq. He told us about his sons, one a recent high school graduate on his way to college. Steffie soaked up the conversation. Helaine was in heaven.

We went upstairs and changed to our evening wear. Everything went fine, except putting on the studs! I'm not sure who designed them but they were murder to get in place. Of course without them, the shirt was buttonless - there was no choice.

We made the prom around 7:30 PM. I knew some of the folks from WTIC-FM and said hello. Rick came on at 8:30.

Of course a significant portion of the audience was his loyal supporters - and they crowded the stage. But, I sensed the people who were there as prom attendees were also getting into it. Yes, he was a soap opera pretty boy - but that doesn't mean he can't play.

The concert was as loud as any I've ever heard. The fact that we were inches from the speakers probably didn't help.

He played the hits, and the new stuff and we went upstairs happy.

Tonight, I finished my end of the deal. I screened, wrote and then voiced the Sunday morning package. Later today an editor will look at my notes and try and cut it as I wrote it. I'll see it the first time Sunday at about 8:50 AM.

Tonight, while at work, Steffie IM'ed me. That in and of itself is nearly startling. Surely she wanted something!

I was wrong. Steffie had IM'ed to let me know we suddenly have cellular service - and with a reasonably good signal.

I flipped my phone open and watched the signal strength as I drove up the hill and into our driveway. What had been non-existent was now just fine. The display on my phone read "Cingular Extend" meaning we were hitting an old AT&T site, as I had expected (just not as soon as I expected).

It will be interesting to see how this plays out. Will I leave my phone on 24/7? Will I carry it in the shirt pocket of my pajamas during the day, before work? Will our landline phone suddenly become lonely?

All I know now is it works. And hopefully that will continue.

We have two laptops at home. One is an older Dell which has become mine... and a Sony Vaio PCG-FXA59 which Helaine adopted and used to be mine. When I woke up this morning Helaine gave me the bad news, the Vaio had gone bye-o (I'm sorry - unavoidable).

Actually, what she saw was the screen blink a few times and then nothing but black. For the past few months the laptop had exhibited a reddish tint on its screen when starting up - that now seems to have been a symptom of the impending doom.

I brought the machine upstairs and plugged a monitor into its external VGA port. It worked. So, the laptop is alive, the screen just won't fire.

I could have sent the laptop to Sony, which meant shipping it to San Diego. Their repairs are flatrate, with LCD repairs costing $600. That seemed too pricey. Instead I went to a place I'd seen advertised on TV, PCW Computers in Orange. They charge $30 to do a diagnosis and then separately for the repair.

The funny thing is, in their ad they reference their location by saying, "across the street from CompUSA."

I walked in and it was unlike anything I had ever seen. People were carrying in towers mostly. And there were plenty of them. Behind the counter were a number of workstations, with monitors. There is no shortage of computers to be fixed, I suppose.

My hope is the problem will be the inverter (which creates the voltage to light the bulbs that illuminate the LCD) or the Cold Cathode lights themselves. Neither are incredibly expensive (though I'll assume the total cost of repair will be at least $200). If the actual LCD went, this laptop is toast - and not worth fixing.

In the meantime, Helaine has adopted the Dell.

It's no secret that much, possibly most, of the spam today originates from infected PC's. Instead of spammers renting 3rd world server space (China and Taiwan had been the leaders in this field), they just buy access to zombified PC's and let loose¹.

I'm not sure why, but most of these spam programs try to get a bit of legitimacy by forging quasi-real return addresses. That, unfortunately, is where I come in. The last 48 emails I've received, and 147 of the last 148 have been spam!

Most of those have actually been bounced mails - spam sent to non-existent mailboxes, or refused for other reasons. They come to me because I own their return address.

Here's an example:

The originator of the emails claims to be: "Rhoda Gill" . Of course, there is no Rhoda Gill and no email address juqbvtxvx@geofffox.com. The return email addresses are an alphabet soup, always ending with "@geofffox.com," and each a random combo.

Netvigator.com seems to be an Internet Service Provider in Hong Kong.

This isn't Netvigator's fault (though they certainly could and should stop it). It is someone's home or office computer that's become infected.

It is driving me nuts. And, if it's driving a little guy like me crazy - imagine the strain on a large business or ISP whose accounts have been forged this way.

We can't continue like this. I have said before, the proliferation of spam will be the death of email. We need to do something sooner, rather than later. It's going to have to be a total change from our current method of mail service, where everyone is trusted to be who they say they are.

Since I began this blog entry I have received 7 more spams!

¹ - This is the topic for another day, but some virii or malware, often downloaded with what seems like an innocent program, can also install unwanted software on your machine. All of a sudden, your PC is a zombie, doing the bidding of someone else - probably sending spam or infected email.

What a beautiful day. This was a day for shooting picture postcards or travelogues. The sky was a pure blue without a hint of gray. The clouds were scattered and puffy. The air was warm and crisp at the same time.

Oh - it's Father's Day.

I'm not sure why we're being feted, but we are. After all, in the hierarchy of parents, I think moms have it tougher. However, I am not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Steffie had handmade a card for me. Even at age 17, when she's part child - part adult, this effort on her part warms every part of me. It is a collage - an abstract from magazines. It is a style in which she has shown great talent. I envy her skills as an artist.

Helaine bought me a few gifts: a book on poker (Doyle Brunson's "Super System," considered the classic in its field), cuff links made from small pieces of a computer motherboard, and a trip in a balloon over Las Vegas.

A good daughter-in-law, she got my dad that too. He'll be joining me as we fly in wicker!

I love to fly. Once, a long time ago, I even took lessons... though I quit before I soloed.

I have flown in nearly anything you can think of from an ultralight with two chainsaw engines for power, to a Piper Cub J-3 with fabric covered wings, to a C-5A big enough to hold a Greyhound bus. I've had a few minutes stick time in an F/A18 with the Blue Angels and in a military full motion simulator. I've also flown through 2 hurricanes in a C-130 Hurricane Hunter (not as scary as you might think). There have also been flights in a few helicopters, one blimp and some time in Houston walking through a Space Shuttle trainer.

My first balloon flight was in the 80's during my PM Magazine/Buffalo days. The pilot was Einer Wheel (a name you don't easily forget) and the balloon was festooned with ads for a local Western New York bank. Later, with the SciFi Channel crew, I flew in the Canadian Flag balloon during a mass ascension at the Kodak Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta.

I'm looking forward to this balloon trip because it's over Las Vegas (though probably not over the Strip), which will provide an immense panorama, and because it will be with my dad. This is the kind of thing he'd never do on his own and something he'll really enjoy a lot.

This being Father's Day, I went a little nuts and went off my diet. Helaine and Steffie took me to The Rusty Scupper for brunch. With today's weather, and its location right on New Haven Harbor, it was the perfect spot.

Father's Day ends at midnight. I'll be dieting again tomorrow, trying to gain a cushion for our Vegas vacation. I was king for a day. It's good to be king.

When I woke up this morning, Helaine looked at me and said, "Don't expect a lot of time for weather tonight at 6:00." The she said, "the Governor is resigning."

Here's the official press release, reformatted for this space with private phone numbers removed:

I know a significant percentage of the people who read this blog aren't in Connecticut, so let me summarize. Our Governor (the chief executive officer of this state, Connecticut) John G. Rowland, who has served for three terms, has been accused of being on the take.

Over the years there had been minor hints of trouble - accepting gifts, like tickets or vacations, which he then paid back when found out. He had also bought a small cottage, for a low price, with excellent financing, within a nature preserve area run by a non-profit foundation, in what many people felt was a deal that wouldn't be available to just anyone.

The straw that broke the camel's back was the revelation that a hot tub at that cottage had been a gift from someone connected with state government. Unfortunately, Governor Rowland had originally said he bought it himself. The governor was caught in a lie.

He changed his story and admitted it was a gift, but by then his life was under intense scrutiny. The closer reporters looked, the more they found that, on the surface, seemed suspect.

The legislature held hearings, and though the evidence was circumstantial, it was damning. It seemed he was parceling out my tax dollars to his friends... and for pennies on the dollar. He took trips, bought clothes, smoked cigars and drank wine, paid for by people with something to gain from the state.

And, as I said, this morning word came out that he'd resign.

I am pleased and saddened.

Pleased because this process would seem to say that the system works. I am saddened because I really have no idea how deep the corruption was... or if there really was corruption (the evidence is circumstantial after all, and he has not been convicted of a crime). And, since he's been governor for over a decade, and a U.S. Congressman before that, what else is waiting to be discovered.

There is something about our political system which often attracts men (mostly men) who are in it for themselves and what they can get. The job holds great power with minimal salary. It's a job that requires immense self confidence to even consider a run. After all, you're saying you can fix the problems of your constituents. And, a candidate must be ready for vicious attacks and immense scrutiny of anything and everything he's ever said or done. Many of the best people for the job are scared away by that prospect alone.

Over the past few years we have lost two Connecticut mayors to scandal - one fiscal, the other depraved immorality of the worst kind. Now it looks like the governor is gone too.

I have heard it said, no matter how tight the times financially, there's always money for graft.

I watched a little of the video from today's private space launch at Majove Airport in California. On some of the wide shots, large commercial aircraft were visible. I thought this was odd - Mojave being a large airport but without the population to support that kind of service.

Then I remembered.

Mojave Airport is a kind of storage yard/graveyard for big planes that are no longer needed. Because of its climate with little humdity and less rain, it's the perfect spot for rust free storage.

There's a cool site with lots of photos of Mojave. I'd love to have the chance to snoop around that place. It's a guy thing.

My driver's license is up for renewal. Normally, in a situation like this, I go to the unfriendly cinder block building run by the DMV on the Hamden/New Haven line. Then I wait.

Insert shot of twiddling thumbs here.

There are interestingly scowling signs hanging from the walls and ceiling, each telling you what you can't do, or where you shouldn't be. It is the antithesis of a posh, private club.

Last night, between watching replays of The Screen Savers of G4TechTV and playing poker, I went to the DMV's website. Since my license expires on the 26th of next month (my birthday), I wanted to make sure it could be renewed this early.

As it turns out, there's plenty of fudge factor in renewing early, so that was no problem. Then I discovered the mother lode of DMV knowledge - you don't need to go to the DMV to renew! As long as you pay by check or with cash, you can renew your license at AAA.

I couldn't believe it. It sounded too easy, too hassle free. After all, Motor Vehicle Departments nationwide are reviled for their lack of service. AAA on the other hand is a commercial venture, trying to please customers.

It was everything I thought it would be. I was in and out in under 5 minutes with a new driver's license in hand,

Later tonight I'll post the old and new license photos. I've changed over the last five years, as has the DMV's method of doing business.

I've completed 5 semesters at MSU, now in the middle of the 6th, and I'm doing pretty well. Feeling kind of heady.

Some of what I learn is worthless - or sometimes even wrong (a bridge disaster that killed no people was credited with killing 50). Other times there is great insight which is helping me better understand some concepts that were muddy in my mind.

All in all it's worthwhile.

Maybe just as important, it has shown me I can succeed in higher education. My first trip through college 35 years ago with an unmitigated disaster. And, as this blog proudly proclaims, there is a "Permanent Record." The SATs I took in December 1967 and my 1.86 GPA from 68-69 are duly noted next to my 5 semesters of A's.

Over the past few years I have pondered taking more courses, cherry picking subjects that entice me. I wouldn't go for a degree, but would go for an education... or at least enlightenment.

Yale University, here in New Haven, has a program that seems to fit the bill: The Special Student Program.

I have read about this program and pondered applying for years. Yale is a very intimidating place. Our current president, the last president, and our next president (Kerry or Bush) are all Yalies. There have been others. There will be others in the future. It's that kind of environment.

Any time I have done a story that touched the Yale student body or faculty, I have come away knowing what a special place it is. Everyone seems driven. Everyone seems challenged. Everyone is so damned smart.

Before applying, I thought it might be the right thing to meet with someone in the admissions office. Is this even a possibility? Today was my day.

It was raining, but I was able to get a space across the street on Hillhouse Avenue. It's a one way street with mature trees. On either side are buildings that seem like - probably were - mansions.

I stood under my umbrella for a few minutes, looking up and down the block. It was a humbling experience. I wasn't sure I wanted to go on.

I walked into the office and met with the counselor. She told me we had met before. Her daughter and mine had played basketball together. Years ago, when her daughter said she liked my car, I had taken her for a spin through the parking lot¹. The interview went well.

There are no guarantees, but I think they'd probably admit me as a non-matriculating special student. That would be fine. Now I have to decide if I want to do it now, or wait until my MSU obligations end, next year at this time.

Will taking meteorology courses, working and having a family make Yale too much? I just don't know.

It is all so amazing to me. There are courses I want to take. Things I want to learn. And, to have the opportunity to learn them in this environment is much more impressive to this 53 year old than it probably ever would have been when I first went to college - when Yale would have laughed me off campus.

¹ - Memo to self: be nice to everybody. You never know.

Every year we live in this house, we get a little lazier. There are less new plantings (though the old ones are getting mature), less rearrangement and less weeding. Actually, until today, there was no weeding.

It's a painstaking, back breaking job and Helaine decided she would do it. Wednesday morning she put on her gardening gloves and set outside. But no sooner had she gone out the front door when she came to an unsettling realization.

We had a wasp nest, above the corner of our front door, about the size of a Nerf football. And, probably from the door's vibrations, wasps were streaming out, sitting on the nest... loitering like the thugs they are.

I have no way of knowing if this is true or not, but my perception of wasps is that, unlike bees, they need no provocation to attack.

Helaine moved away from the door and weeded away. The wasps stayed and protected their turf.

We found a can of wasp and hornet spray in the garage. You know this is powerful stuff because 2/3 of the can is dedicated to telling you what to do should you mistakenly ingest this - spraying it down your throat like a can of whipped cream.

I waited until tonight. It was very still, perfect for wasp destruction. I got the can, shook vigorously, and walked outside. Even at midnight I was amazed to see the wasps walking all over the outside of the nest. There were a few perched nearby, but away from the crowd.

From 12 feet, I let loose. The spray hit the nest and saturated it. Big drops of poisonous liquid floated down to my front steps. The wasps lucky enough to have missed the stream started flying.

At this point it didn't seem safe to go back through the door, so I called to Steffie who opened the garage. I skulked in like some commando going back to base.

When I check tomorrow, hopefully they'll be gone. It's tough to believe they could have survived the spray of death. The next step will be to get a broom and remove the evidence.

I have heard people talk about insects in the past. They always say, "they're more scared of you than you are of them." Impossible.

There is a dance number in the Broadway show "The Producers" which features older women using their walkers to create a faux tap dance. Today, I felt I was at an audition for that scene. There were that many women with walkers.

Erika, from Public Affairs, had asked me to speak to a group of seniors at Gardenside Terrace in Branford. These are older folks who need help or attention in their daily lives.

From the outside, it's tough to categorize the architecture. Too many roof lines. Too little character. Inside, the facility itself was quite nice.

I spoke for around 45 minutes. It was a variant of a speech I've given 500 times. Truth is, you can't speak all the time without having something like a political stump speech.

Most of the audience was attentive, but not all. A woman to my left nodded off a few times, sleeping in her seat. The first time I saw her go, I prayed it was only sleep. You never know.

After the show I met a woman who was 96 years old. She looked great. I asked her a question, and though she answered, it wasn't really an answer to my question.

All in all, this was a good thing. These were nice people and they were desperately trying to stay active and vital. It's a tough fight as age is a very persistent opponent - and age always wins.

I almost forgot to do this. The two photos are from my past and current driver's license respectively.

There seems to be a huge difference in the width of my face, and I would have attributed it to my diet. After all, 25 pounds should be noticeable. Then I started playing around with them in Photoshop with the intention of having them as close to one another as possible to allow a good comparison.

After lots of scrutiny, I think the old style license photo was actually distorted in the horizontal - probably inadvertently programmed that way. Maybe the person who wrote the code didn't properly use the horizontal vs. vertical ratio of the digital camera.

I remember having the operator take my picture a few times when I got it four years ago. Unlike most people, I'm very used to seeing what I look like on camera. It just looked wrong.

What was I thinking with the hair in 2000?

Whatever the case, I'm covered now until 2010.

Blogger's note: I wasn't sure whether 'drivers' needed an apostrophe before the 's' or not, so I looked at the license itself. It is actually called a Driver License - singular, non-possessive. But, that just sounds so weird.

Midterms for my two summer courses were due at 12:00 noon today. I finished close to 4:00 AM. That's par for the course.

As late as midnight I told Steffie (who seems to have inherited her father's nocturnal lifestyle) I was apprehensive. I've done well in both courses but could sense impending doom.

I did everything I could to postpone the inevitable. I went downstairs to snack. Played a quick game of poker (A $15 +$1 sit 'n go turbo tournament where I placed 3rd and got back $22). Went downstairs again. Finally, I had no choice but to take the tests.

They were both 50 question, multiple choice, open book test (if you don't know the work a book won't help. Maybe you could look up ten answers before running out of time). Each test had a time limit of 60 minutes, and a countdown clock on the top of the test's browser window.

Summer classes at MSU are given in a condensed time frame. What is normally a seven day cycle becomes a five days. Assignments, due on Wednesdays in the fall and spring, float around the days of the week. I've had deadlines on weekends and even holidays.

I took the Applied Climatology midterm first. It was difficult, but I think I did all right. Considering no one will ever see my grades, I probably anguish a little too much over this.

The Radar Meteorology midterm was another story. For the past few days other students had been kvetching on the class bulletin board that there was no study guide (a luxury I had never even suspected existed before my Mississippi State classes). The professor replied everything was fair game. But this course had lots of reading, complex formulas and voluminous webpage references. It was a daunting task to prepare.

After his response the tension on the bulletin board became thick enough to cut with a knife.

There's no doubt, the test was tough. I have no idea how I did. Most likely it will be one of the low points of the last six semesters.

I have no problem with the lack of a study guide, I am, however, bothered by double questions. I'm not sure what else to call them. The way it works is, you're given two separate questions, true or false. So, the answer could be both true, both false, etc. The problem is, it's possible to know half the answers in this test and get a 0%. To me, that seems a little unfair.

Unfortunately, it is entirely the professor's call. I really don't have any say. I try and go with the flow. There's no choice.

Usually, tests and quizzes are graded very quickly. But, here we are nearly seven hours after the tests closed and no results. Radar Meteorology should be ready tomorrow, but there's been no word on the status of Applied Climatology.

I've got to lighten up. I really do.

Some Microsoft webservers have been infected with a strange virus that infects user's computers. It's really dastardly because this can happen on well known, well respected sites where you'd never expect trouble.. Even though the threat from this particular exploit is now virtually nil (the website which was to receive the purloined info has been closed), it will definitely be the first of many similar attacks.

It's just too lucrative a move for hungry thieves to avoid!

Just in case you're worried, you should know it can't happen here. This is an Apache webserver running on a Linux PC. The exploit needs Microsoft IIS servers.

However, this just continues to point out how vulnerable Internet Explorer is. The virus is passed along to individuals through IE.

Last night I downloaded Foxfire, a browser from Mozillla which can replace Internet Explorer. I guess it's time to make the switch... while I still can.

Last week Helaine turned the laptop on. The screen flickered and then - poof - gone. I took it to a local repair shop where they said they could fix it, quickly. Now, a week later, it's not fixed and I haven't heard from them!

Today, I took a trip to PCW, the laptop's sick bay. When I got there, the tech was actually working on it. The keyboard was askew, other pieces had been removed and there was a perplexed look on Omar's (the technician) face.

I don't want to go into the sordid details, but the laptop with no video is now a laptop that boots sometimes - and still has no video. It's very troubling.

Helaine needed some files, so I offloaded 3 Cd's worth of data. But, the laptop is still on the bench.

We've got vacation coming up, and I'd rather bring that laptop than the older, slower Dell. This story is not finished.

A few days ago I got an email asking me to promote the Bethany Volunteer Fire Department's annual fireworks show. No problem. And, since it isn't far from home, I figured I'd go and snap some photos.

Bethany is a small community, straddling Route 63, north of New Haven. I have heard that there are more horses than people in Bethany - though that's probably untrue. I do know their zoning makes for large lots and plenty of room if you'd like a stable.

The fireworks were scheduled to be held at Bethany Airport. Bethany was actually the first airport in Connecticut, established back in 1922, but it hasn't been used that way for a very long time and the neighbors probably like it that way!

I haven't taken too many fireworks pictures in the past, so this was a total experiment. I'm not exactly sure what I did wrong, but I'm not very satisfied with the results. Of course there are always some good shots. Here are four of my favorites.

I got the results to my midterm exams back today. As suspected, I did well in Applied Climatology with a 98%. Radar Meteorology, the one I expected trouble in, gave me trouble with an 88%. I need to maintain a 90% average to stay an "A" student.

This was by far the most brutal exam I have taken at MSU. Below is the class breakdown. The median grade was below a 70%. A significant portion of the class flunked or did poorly.

Some employers demand a certain grade result before they'll reimburse, so there are going to be some upset students this weekend.

Meanwhile, the online bulletin board has been silent - so far.

Though Don Hewitt is no longer the executive producer of 60 Minutes, tonight's first story was researched, reported, edited and approved on his watch. The story concerned the Patriot Missile system and its shortcomings.

I have no problem with the facts as reported. I wouldn't know if they were wrong anyway. That's an interesting part of the news business. The giver of news must establish that his organization is absolutely trustworthy.

That's why what I saw, though a minor point, irks me so much.

In the story, I watched a Patriot Missile during the first Gulf War shoot down a Scud. As the two hit, an explosion filled the center of the screen with bright light and a large boom was heard.

In real life, the boom is heard long after the light! The speed of light is much faster that the speed of sound.

Since I had recorded this show, I rolled the video back to look and make sure I had seen what I thought I'd seen. There is no doubt, on 60 Minutes the light and sound happened at the same instant.

For these two events to have taken place contemporaneously the camera had to be real close (it wasn't) or someone screwed with the tape to provide a look that was consistent with what people expect.

This was the wrong thing to do. There are no small lies in the news business.

My friend Mike sent me a very odd optical illusion. Though it looks like it is animated, it is a totally still picture. There's not enough room on this webpage to squeeze it in and maintain the effect, so to see it, click here.

There is an explanation for what you've seen at the University of Pennsylvania Psychology Department website, but it's less than easy to follow.

Back when I was a kid, when television was fuzzy and in black and white, there was Don Herbert. He was as close to a TV action hero as nerds could get. Don Herbert was Mr. Wizard.

I mean, look at that picture to the left! Could there be anything that was more geek chic than whatever they were doing that produced the cloud of smoke (in those pre-smoke detector days)?

He crushed cans with barometric pressure, produced starch clocks and explained everything from electromagnetism on down. I'm sure if I were to watch those shows again today I'd notice the lack of production values and slow pace - TV has changed. Still, with Mr. Wizard, science was cool.

He was a grownup when I was a kid, over 40 years ago. Who knew if he was dead or alive? But, I just got an article from Cousin Michael which ran in yesterday's New York Times. He's alive and well and living in California - probably still crushing cans with atmospheric pressure. I do.

I was sound asleep when Steffie walked into the bedroom. She leaned down to wake me. I sprung up - as if I had been launched.

"The alarm is beeping," she said.

I was groggy - after all, it wasn't 10:00 AM yet. I walked down the hall to the panel for our alarm system. The LED readout and another light were flashing. From inside the box came, "beep."

I turned to Steffie and asked if the power was out? I guess I wasn't very lucid if I had to ask. It was off.

Back in high school I had a teacher, Mr. Temes, who complained that his Brooklyn neighborhood of Manhattan Beach was connected to the power grid by a piece of zip cord. It sometimes seems the same here.

We had been hit by moderately powerful thunderstorms overnight, with torrential downpours. But the power worked then. We didn't lose the juice until it was sunny, dry and warm.

I reset the alarm system and went back to the bedroom. As I put my head on the pillow I stopped to listen to the silence.

We live in a world with so many little noises generated electrically that it's easy to miss them. But you really do hear the difference when the power's off.

Every electrical appliance with a transformer is vibrating a little when it's plugged in. Refrigerators cycle their compressor on and off. The pump to pressurize our well water kicks in. There was nothing.

Well, actually, that's not so. There was mostly nothing, punctuated by yet another beep every few seconds. Years ago we had bought a cordless phone with a great feature. So you don't take it too far from its base, it beeps when it loses contact with the mother ship.

Every time the power fails, it beeps incessantly.

I was first made aware of the little noises we always hear when I read "The Year 1000: What Life Was Like at the Turn of the First Millennium : An Englishman's World." Robert Lacey, the author, talked about the things we'd notice that were different back then, and noise was high on the list.

Before I fell asleep I picked up my cellphone (which now works at home) and called Helaine. She was out shopping. We are so totally dependent on electricity that until recently neither of us carried a key to the house - depending on the garage door opener and then security system protected interior doors.

Luckily, before she returned the power problem was fixed. I knew it when I heard a small motor kick in and the sound of a little extra water streaming into our toilet's tank.

I have been so upset about our Sony Vaio PCG-FXA59 laptop that I didn't want to follow up. But here's where we stand. It's been nearly two weeks since it went to the hospital in Orange. Once the tech took the cover off - the computer stopped booting!

I was furious. No one wants to hear about a patient getting killed in the hospital.

We think, now, this model won't boot unless fully assembled! But, it's taken a while to come to that conclusion.

It also seems like the dead LCD panel actually does work... sort of. LCD's are passive in that they don't emit any light. If you look at a laptop screen or LCD monitor you are looking at the light from a cold cathode tube passing through the LCD array.

If you hold the LCD away from its housing, allow ambient room light to drift in, you can see what's supposed to be there.

So, it would seem the LCD works but there's no light. That narrows it down to the inverter (which produces higher voltage than what the battery produces natively) or the cold cathode tube, aka the bulb, itself.

Omar, he's the tech, tried plugging in another inverter. Nothing. So, it's most likely the tube - a $10 part!

Of course, with vacation looming on Monday, I'll need it immediately. So, for the $10 tube, I'm spending nearly $30 for shipping. If the laptop can be recusitated it will be well worth while.

With the thought this machine might have bought the farm, I went looking for a replacement. As it turns out, I had bought a pretty good machine, because even today its specs are excellent - nearly state of the art. What really sets it apart is the 1400x1050 screen. That's immense!

Tomorrow, when the bulb comes, I'll bring it to Orange. Maybe it will be case closed - maybe.