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May 31st 2003 08:00 CDT
On literalism
"The Best of George Michael" = oxymoron.
Discuss...
Comments ()May 30th 2003 21:50 CDT
On the edge
Natzoid downloaded the Kazaa lite stuff and I'm currently drowning in the class (sic) of Half Man, Half Biscuit and The Macc Lads' less offensive songs. It doesn't get much better than reminiscing.
Comments ()May 30th 2003 18:05 CDT
On sacrilege
Who on earth thought it would be a good idea to remake 'The Italian Job'? I swear if they omit the line "jast rememba, in this country, they drive on the wrong side of the bloody road" or it's done in an American accent, I will not be responsible for my actions. Some things are sacrosanct and that film is one of them. Who could do that without really being Michael Caine?
Comments ()May 30th 2003 9:45 CDT
On madness
A while ago Steve commented on his parrot Marv whose little eyes gleam with lunacy. I took this picture last night of she of the single orange neuron. "Gleam with lunacy"; I wonder why those words struck a chord with me.
The evidence of her madness is present too. That, dear people, was once a fully functional cable remote controller.
Comments ()May 28th 2003 07:00 CDT
On that second cup of coffee
Things that crossed what passes as my mind while drinking the first cup:
May 26th 2003 08:10 CDT
On Euro-lunacy
I can't help myself. I just came across this and have to say that the madness that is the EU has taken one more step towards the sanitorium door.
There are two reasons that I can see for a European president, neither of which justify the position. The first is to "lead" Europe in much the same way that the US president leads the US which is laughable. Can you imagine the British public's reaction to being led by an Italian or Spanish politican (I could have gone for the easy targets but resisted that little temptation)? The second reason may be a metaphorical figurehead for Europe, providing us with the ultimate symbol of EU bureaucracy; armies of Belgique imports all headed up by an erstwhile ousted ex-primeminister.
The real warning comes in the words:
It says the EU shall in the future have "legal personality" and incorporates a legally-binding Charter of Fundamental Rights, including labour and social policies.
You know what that says to me? Taxes.
You know what springs to mind? Farming subsidies and governmental interference.
If I were still an inhabitant of Europe, I'd be checking Expedia.
Addendum: And just to prove what a bunch of maniacal loons the EU is comprised of, Greek lawyers are trying to sue Tony Blair over the war in Iraq. Could they have timed that press release any better than that?
Comments ()May 26th 2003 06:45 CDT
On tech blogs
Natzoid has been saying for quite a while that I should write a techie blog and I have toyed with the idea but have decided against it. The 'net is chock full of endless pseudo-techie blogs and, as one who leans to the geeky side, with few exceptions, they are all pretty dull. Broadly speaking they are either heavily opinionated (pro Microsoft or pro Unix) or focus on compliance to certain standards (XML, RSS etc). Personally, I have enough opinions of my own so really don't need to be fed any more and I comply to standards as far as I remember them and as far as I need to (if it looks OK in Netscape on my Linux box and IE on Windows, I've done my bit for humanity). The only tech blog I would consider doing is a tutorial on PHP and MySQL but looking around, there are a number of fairly good ones already so why add to the noise? So, no tech blog from me in the near future. Anyway, it's summer and unless I get wirelessed-up, I'm not planning on spending that much time on the PC anyway.
Considering I awoke at 04:30 this morning, I'm feeling in remarkably fine fettle, which is no bad thing given I have a 1000 word editorial to write on the state of the electronics assembly market for an Asia-Pacific publication. I can feel the spin welling up inside me as I type and no, I'm not going to go down the easy and obvious route of lamenting how much SARS has cost the industry.
Natzoid and the weapons of mass destruction kids are due to arrive home today, so I'd better break out my best feather duster and the lemon 409 and hit the house.
May 25th 2003 16:30 CDT
On character analysis
The various inhabitants of our humble abode all have their quirks. For example, Natzoid and I were discussing the Bean a few days ago. While Natzoid described her as being 'a character', I leaned more to 'a piece of work'. Somewhere twixt the two is the truth; she is somewhere between being a character and being a piece of work.
The dogs have their own characters too. Sasha is graceful and obedient, Bowie is nervous and sketchy and Stella is blissfully happy and totally unaware of her size or strength. When the kids and Natzoid are gone, the prize spot for any of them is on the floor underneath my desk and they will go to any lengths to get to that luxury. They will even lie, boldly and brazenly lie. To each other.
Scenario 1: Sasha and Bowie are curled up under the desk, Sasha with her head on my foot. Stella is looking pissed, lying on the floor about eight feet away and giving the others the evil eye. Her whole orangeness is bristling with indignation. The look of buggermentTM appears in her eyes and she nonchalantly gets up and waddles down the hallway slowly, so as to attract no attention from the others. A few seconds pass and all appears to be well. Suddenly, the house is awash with the barking and howling of Stella as she deals with "something". Naturally, the other two are quickly elevated to defcon 5 and are hot-footing it down the hallway to assist. As Sasha and Bowie make it to the front room, Stella sidles past them and back into my room, plonks her orange (over-sized) arse under the desk and issues one of those really contented sighs that only dogs know how to do.
Scenario 2: Stella, having weasled her way under the desk is gloating like she's been elected president of Krufts. Long and animated stretches are accompanied by deep sighs and the occasional ear rub. Sasha is under the bed scowling at the orange contender for the luxury that is the floor under my desk. She sneaks down the hallway and into the kitchen and rustles the dog food bag just loud enough to get Stella's attention. Stella's ears perk up, a beady eye opens and there are a couple of nanoseconds where you can see the orange neurons going through the maze, hitting some dead-ends and finally making it to the right place. She's up like a shot and flying down the hallway. Sasha has wisely used those nanoseconds to get half way back to my room, but ducked into our bedroom. As the orange blur races past the bedroom door, Sasha pauses and slowly ambles under the desk, taking great pains to curl up in a fashion that occupies as much space as is caninely possible.
This endless trickery has been going on for two days solid now and, to be honest, I'm waiting for them to get to throwing their barks or pointing at each other's chests and then as the victim looks down, rapidly moving the paw through the air to just skim the victim's nose.
PS - Yes, my project is going very nicely, thanks for asking.
Comments ()May 22nd 2003 17:50 CDT
On nostalgia
I wish I was young and angry again, as opposed to being thirty-something and mildly irritated or moderately annoyed.
Comments ()May 21st 2003 18:30 CDT
On absentia
For those (two) of you who keep visiting, while I'm working on my little project, I give you the lyrics to one of the best songs ever. It's a good reminder from whence I came and a good grounding when I start getting too many aspirations. For the non-UK reader(s), to the first person who correctly identifies the original artist (without the use of google), I'll award a guest blog entry on yatescentral. There's an incentive if ever I've heard one. Not.
A police car and a screaming siren - A pnuematic drill and ripped up concrete - A baby wailing and stray dog howling - The screech of brakes and lamplights blinking -
that's entertainment.
that's entertainment.
A smash of glass and the rumble of boots - An electric train and a ripped up 'phone booth - Paint spattered walls and the cry of a tomcat - Lights going out and a kick in the balls -
I say that's entertainment.
that's entertainment.
Days of speed and slow time Mondays - Pissing down with rain on a boring Wednesday - Watching the news and not eating your tea - A freezing cold flat and damp on the walls -
I say that's entertainment.
that's entertainment.
Waking up at 6 a.m. on a cool warm morning - Opening the windows and breathing in petrol - An amateur band rehearsing in a nearby yard - Watching the tele and thinking about your holidays -
that's entertainment.
that's entertainment.
Waking up from bad dreams and smoking cigarettes - Cuddling a warm girl and smelling stale perfume - A hot summers' day and sticky black tarmac - Feeding ducks in the park and wishing you were faraway -
that's entertainment.
that's entertainment.
Two lovers kissing amongst the scream of midnight - Two lovers missing the tranquility of solitude - Getting a cab and travelling on buses - Reading the grafitti about slashed seat affairs -
that's entertainment.
Comments ()
May 19th 2003 07:10 CDT
On a role
I'm working on something. It's sweet. It's that sweet that I woke up at 04:30 this morning to implement a new feature-let. I tell you, there's nothing that can't be done with PHP and MySQL.
Comments ()May 17th 2003 22:50 CDT
On Bowie (the singer, not the dog)
God help me. I've spent over half of my life detesting David Bowie and his lack of talent. He cannot sing to save his life. So why is it that I've just been rocking away to 'Bowie at the Beeb'?
Songs...are...too...damned...catchy.
I'm afraid of Americans.
Comments ()May 16th 2003 17:40 CDT
On alone time
What does one do when one's better half heads down to her parents' for the weekend? One cranks a beer, sits back with the intention of thinking big thoughts, gets absorbed reading other blogs, realizes one's mistake and, taking one's handy-dandy notebook in hand, sets about thinking. Only one's mind is torn between a 2 hour season finale of CSI or a 2 hour season finale of Law and Order, all without muling infants to distract one. These are the decisions that plague one this evening. And one implicitly knows that one isn't going to have any great thoughts tonight as one indulges oneself with superficial gratification provided by NBC or whatever the other network is. In fact, one has already considered putting 'Black Hawk Down' in the DVD but has thus far resisted.
This one has fed their dogs and is now seriously contemplating how one is going to keep a normal schedule over the course of the weekend given that there are only dogs to wake one. Historically, in times such as these, one has been asleep by 9 and awake at 4, which is what one's work pattern would best suit.
I've programmed the video, but I should have asked Sammy to do it before she left since the chances of it working are less than my making it to bed after 10 this evening.
Anyway, the video is set and one is off to plant one's butt in one's most comfortable recliner to watch whichever of CSI or L&O starts first (yes, I'm that fickle, by seconds). Great thoughts can wait for tomorrow.
Comments ()May 15th 2003 19:00 CDT
On Unix on Intel
Way back in the day a small company that I used to work for were acquired by SCO, of SCO Unix fame. After the acquisition, I hung around for three years and, for the most part, hated the place but did learn quite a lot.
In the early nineties, SCO were probably the biggest provider of Unix systems on Intel chips. While IBM, HP, Sun and DEC battled out the mid-range market, SCO crept around the small and medium sized businesses eating the left-overs and made quite a living out of it. They were big in the point-of-sale market because of the reliability of the operating system and relatively low hardware costs.
In 1994, SCO bought the rights to Unix from Novell who had bought it from AT&T who had bought it from Bell Labs who had...etc etc. At the time, it seemed like a great business move, requiring all other Unix providers to pay them royalties on their shipments. They started a collaborative effort with a number of the bigger mid-range players (HP and IBM) to produce a 64-bit Unix, code named project Monterey and at the time, I suspect there was a real belief that it would be the Microsoft killer (NT was just starting to be accepted). Microsoft were the evil foe that must be eliminated at all costs; ally with Netscape, even if costs you hundreds of thousands of dollars. It was as much a religious battle as it was a market taker. The corporate evangelists waxed lyrical about thin clients and bloatware. Microsoft would die.
What SCO failed to see on the horizon was Linux.
I remember distinctly being sat in a pub in Bramley with a colleague one night, toying with the idea that this Linux stuff could decimate the Unix industry and even though it was open source, we could perhaps start a company that sold support for the open source effort.
Fast forward nine short years and examine the situation now. SCO, having been all but crucified by Linux, have sold their Unix business to Caldera, a Linux company. All of the surviving mid-range Unix companies are fully behind Linux. SCO rename themselves and Caldera adopt the old SCO name.
Caldera, or The SCO Group as they are now known, are trying to sue IBM for billions over that brief collaborative effort, claiming that the Unix IP that they bought from the original SCO has appeared within Linux distributions. Indeed they have gone so far as to say that Linux users could be targets.
A few weeks after initiating the law suit, someone within Caldera realized that their threats had no meaning while they themselves were still selling Linux and in the last couple of days, they have ceased selling it.
The world looks on, agog, as the Linux upstart takes on Big Blue (just for a start).
In reality, it's a load of old nonsense. IBM could put me up as their legal counsel and have the case laughed out of court. The senior management at the old SCO (the original SCO) are not stupid (despite their attempts to convince Wall Street that they are by consistently hyping and ducking) and have had their eye on the Linux community for years. If they thought there was an iota of a chance that their then IP had been infringed, lawyers would have been crawling all over anyone who even looked like they might have seen a Linux box.
I could go into details about when stock transactions and payments for SCO Unix were made, when company name changes were made and when ties were severed, but I won't. The upshot is that Caldera are a flailing Linux company that bought a dying revenue stream from SCO and realized very quickly that if the wench wasn't dead, she was very imminently dead and started a resurrection campaign. Their campaign involves blatantly needless litigation that's designed to drag them out of delisting from Nasdaq and eventually out of existence.
Caldera was probably dreamed up in the equivalent of the Wheat Sheaf in Bramley and as with all dot bombs, was run by a bunch of 'religious' techies, believing they could take a portion of the evil Microsoft's pie.
The irony is that Linux has taken nothing away from Microsoft, just crippled the other Unix vendors and left nothing but back-biting and pointless law suits for them to contend with.
Comments ()May 13th 2003 07:15 CDT
On stimulants
We have run out of teabags, so I'm back on the coffee in the morning until one of my UK contacts hits the States again, which looks to be not too imminent. Yesterday, Natzoid made a pot which I deemed too weak. This morning, I made it, piling coffee grounds into the machine and I realise now that it's not weak, it just doesn't taste of anything.
Now that Spring has finally sprung here in Permafrost MN, there's nothing I'd like more than to able to sit outside on the deck each morning with a cup of tea. It's almost worth paying the $60 to import PG Tips from Florida. But if I did that, I know that I'd end up having to install a wireless network so I could browse and email from the deck in the mornings. Sometimes it just sucks to be me.
Comments ()May 12th 2003 19:40 CDT
On the big time
At one point today in after hours trading, the asking price for a stock I own was $2500 per share, putting me at a gross profit in the region of $9,000,000. Sadly when the market opens again tomorrow, I'm sure I'll still be in the red to the tune of about $9000. Stupid after-hours trading. Back to reality tomorrow.
Comments ()May 11th 2003 12:00 CDT
On the Premiership
Another year, another title.
Points of interest:
May 10th 2003 17:50 CDT
On getting over the ritual phone call
Check out this Motley bunch...
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| Sasha and Bowie under my desk |
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| Stella helping herself to a little comfort(er) |
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| Nic sampling a little of the old apple sauce |
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| Natzoid's new haircut, and looking beautiful with it (sans spike) |
That's enough to snap me out of the funk that my mother put me in.
Comments ()May 10th 2003 12:30 CDT
On the ritual phone call
Every Saturday morning, my cell phone rings and it's the maternal parental unit ready to impart the weeks events. Sometimes it's bearable, but other times it's downright infuriating. An hour of lament over the state of my ex-wife and her problems.
I have been fighting the urge to rebuke the tales of woe and offload a sizeable chunk of my problems onto her just to level the playing field, but as yet have refrained. What is so riling about it is the level of schizophrenia. On the one hand it's all about my ex's financial woes and whether I can help and then within seconds it's gasps of disapointment when I inform her that I won't be taking all the family over to the UK for my brother's wedding because I can't afford to. To me the two are related. It seems my mother thinks I have two kinds of finances, the day to day bills and then a huge great slush fund that pays for my opulent lifestyle (sic). Well I have news for her; if I have a slush fund, and I'm pretty sure that I don't, I've lost the damned account number.
Yes, we have a nice house but God damn it, I work bloody hard for that. I still have to find thousands of dollars to pay for legal fees to do with my immigration. Our family vehicle is a 10 year old conversion van that we bought for $1500. We're not what I would call 'living it large'.
I hate the way that every Saturday morning for the last few weeks, I get off the phone feeling like I'm the lowest form of life on the bloody planet and that all of my mistakes somehow reflect badly on her. And then there's the angelic younger brother who has his shit so together that it makes me want to go out and beat up anyone with a clean car.
You know what, I think I'll start scanning my bank statements and 401k statements, along with credit card bills and the rest and send them to her on a weekly basis. And just maybe, she'll remember when she was in her early thirties and she too was not totally in control of her own finances.
Damn, I'm angry. I wish we had a cat - I'd kick the fecker so damned hard, it would be in Wisconsin within seconds.
I think I may utilize that very handy voicemail function for a few weeks. At least until I calm down. Or maybe I should just play the game and get a second job to support any worthless bloody charity cases that my mother deems deserving of financial assistance.
Comments ()May 9th 2003 20:10 CDT
On bigots
Post deleted due to uncharacteristically inflamatory content. And I'm a nice guy really.
Comments ()May 8th 2003 18:45 CDT
On Minnesota drivers
I have returned from Boomtown Grand Rapids, having got lost in Holland and Zeeland for the tenth or more time. Only Orlando is worse for me. Everywhere else in the world I can visit once and remember how to navigate the place for all eternity.
Driving home, I had the extraordinary displeasure of having to drive up 35W during rush hour. Being polite, Minnesota drivers are absolute bloody cretins. Isn't the accepted procedure 'mirror, signal, manouver'? In Minnesota, that becomes 'do it, make sure you've done it, tell everyone you've done it'. Except if you are one of those people with the little fish on the back of your car - apparently, being of a religious persuasion exempts you from ever having to signal. One particularly religious person with two fish on the back of his Honda not only didn't signal, but twice pulled about a foot in front of me. My sense of duty to the populace severely tempted me to take my SUV and wipe his worthless existence from the world, but I refrained. Hopefully God has a bigger, more horrific plan for him.
And to end on a lighter note, and to prove that I'm not completely full of piss and vinegar, I did have one of those 'awwww' moments today. This week in Grand Rapids is the Tulip Festival and the place was full of old grandparents enjoying toting around their grandkids. I can't wait until I can do that. And then give them back. Just kidding. Or am I?
Comments ()May 7th 2003 12:50 CDT
On a plane
I'm off to sit my happy ass down on a plane to Michigan. If it's eventful (sic), I'll be sure to let you know.
Comments ()May 5th 2003 18:55 CDT
On writer's block
I spent literally hours today trying to write some copy for a datasheet. Perhaps my head is irrepairably polluted by the nauseating drivel that is present in the existing datasheet or maybe I just wasn't in the right mood (adjusts arty-farty attitude and harrumphs). The process went along the lines of many minutes of quiet contemplation followed by a minute of typing (60% of which copy and 40% of which was backspace). Four hours work and four decent paragraphs to show for it. Pathetic. I felt like I used to in my old coding days; hours of effort and 40 lines of code to show for it.
During the course of the morning, I had an indignant IM from Natzoid who asked "Was the Bean awake when you left?" to which I replied "No, why?" envisioning the destruction of multiple rooms as Beanie applied her post-modern art to various walls with a multitude of foodstuffs. Either that or once again we're bereft of food because she has systematically fed the contents of the fridge and freezer to the dogs. Thankfully, it was neither. Apparently the cause of the inquiry was a tale recited as she got out of bed, curls all over the place, to claim that I had been mad with her as I got out of the shower alleging that I had 'spanked her one and two and three and four times really hard'. As I left this morning, the bugger was knocking out more Z's than a Polish dictionary.
After my denial, and I think it says something about the level of trust Natzoid has in me that she interrogated me prior to asking Zoe any further questions, Natzoid engaged the Bean on the subject. The allegation was repeated verbatim except this time there was an addendum passage; "and then I put on goblin shoes and danced with Nic".
Bloody kids.
Comments ()May 4th 2003 13:55 CDT
On losing my faculties
As Natzoid frequently points out, I pride myself on 'having my shit together' although there's a missing 'appearing to' in that allegation. Usually I do have things under a moderate amount of control. Which is why it annoys the pants off me when I go and do something vacuous like, say, lose my damned debit card.
Yesterday, we went out, bought plants and garden stuff all with said card. After unpacking I nipped back out to get cash and something for lunch. An hour later, I realized I had forgotten to get milk so set out again. An uneasy feeling arose as I looked in my wallet and found, yikes, no card.
After retracing my steps, it was clear that like a fuckwit, I had indeed lost it. I apologetically called the bank and had them cancel it and send out a new one.
Proof positive right there, that the illusion is an illusion. I'm an idiot.
Comments ()May 3rd 2003 13:05 CDT
On getting stuff done
You people without kids. You must actually do things and get things done eh? Real things like shopping and yardwork?
I sometimes try to remember the days when I was young, free, single and kidless. I think back to all of my accomplishments. Then I realise. I was a lazy shit then and now the stuff that does get done is born out of absolute necessity.
You'd think, judging from the screams coming from the bathroom, that we were torturing the Bean. In reality, she's just emptied yet another bottle of shampoo on her head and is having said shampoo rinsed from her hair, an action apparently so painful that the neighbors are no doubt reaching for the child welfare number as I type.
It's past one o'clock and we're still trying to get out the door to go to the hardware store so we can start work on the garden. The seventh ring of hell sounds like a breeze to me.
Comments ()May 2nd 2003 18:30 CDT
On potentially horrendous mistakes
On my way home from work, some form of mental defficiency kicked in and I suddenly felt guilty about promising Samantha a guitar and then never delivering. It being pay day, I took a detour to purchase one. I got home. I gave her the guitar. I tuned it (which took a while seeing the pegs were in a different order to what I'm used to) and now she is starting to feel her away around it. This could be unpleasant for many years to come.
Comments ()May 2nd 2003 13:10 CDT
On observations
Ahem and adieu.
Comments ()May 1st 2003 18:30 CDT
On white rabbits
So, Spring has finally sprung (touch some kind of formica something or other) and the temperatures are in the seventies. Beautiful it is too.
I've been manic all day, as if on crack but not. I awoke at 05:30 this morning and felt like Tiggr. I bounced around drinking tea and firing off emails for an hour and a half and then drove to work where I achieved more today than I have done in the previous three days. I know full well that this uncommon energy will disappear rapidly at some point in the next few hours but for now, I'm still a-buzzing.
Midst my frenzy of activity today, I had a random memory manifest itself at an entirely inappropriate moment. I haven't thought about this particular humiliating moment in probably ten years or more so thought I'd blog it lest I ever forget it again. It's a lesson in humility and planning that I really should take heed of more often.
While I was in my teens, I ended up in a band. I don't know how it happened given that at that point in my life, I had zero musical training. I had been accepted to learn trumpet at the age of 12 but had that plan nixed by the paternal parental unit with his nibs citing the loss of an hour a week in maths class as entirely unacceptable (an irony not lost on me even then; there I was at age 12 doing O level mathematics papers in a corner because the teacher couldn't keep me at the level the rest of the class were). So, I was bereft of any musical education. To this day, I struggle to read music.
Anyway, I ended up in a band (see picture to left). The band were known as "Aardvark and the Swinging Testicles". Yes, it's true. I variously sang, played bass and played keyboards based on what little I could pick up by ear.
The 'band', and I use the term freely, formed about two months before Bob Geldolf started the Band-Aid initiative. We had studio recorded a couple of covers of songs by some of our favorite bands of the time along with a couple of our own (admittedly lame ass) compositions. Someone in the studio had heard the outcome and asked us to participate in a local version of Band-Aid that was to held a couple of weeks into the future. We naturally accepted the 45 minute slot and then came to the startling realization that we didn't know a sufficient number of songs to fill 45 minutes, so we set about practicing new ones. Only we didn't have a studio or all the real instruments to use.
With the impending "gig" looming large, we managed to convince one of the band member's parents to go away for a weekend, imported enough booze to kill us all, borrowed a Casio handheld from the nine year old kid next door, nearly bust the stereo by hot-rigging an electric bass into it, found a wrecked acoustic guitar that we could nearly tune and set about learning some new covers and writing our own songs. The days that we spent practicing, in retrospect, are a complete blur. Timing was provided by our drummer banging on cushions on a sofa.
News of Aardvark spread relatively quickly around the area that we lived and pretty soon, we had built up quite a following. Come the night of the "gig" we were surprised to find that we were next to last, so next to top of the bill. We had been drinking from early on in the day and to be honest, I have few recollections of any note other than the fact that when we left the stage and the headliners went on stage, the crowd were screaming "we want the testicles".
An over-confident bunch of idiots was on a roll.
Hot on the success of our first gig, and high on the adulation, we set about arranging a second gig at a local pub. We spent time in the studio, sent off tapes to record companies and generally drank our own bathwater.
We did fairly well on the local circuit for a while until we did a gig at a local pub, literally next door to where our pseudo-cosmic ascent had started. That night, we tuned up, had a few beers and watched our support act do covers of the Cult and other gotherama. During their set, the guitarist broke a string and didn't want to stop to change so asked our guitarist to borrow his. OK. What he did for the next 20 minutes I have no idea, but he knocked it so far out of tune that when we started our set, within two bars, I knew that it was beyond tuning. We played for 45 minutes with a guitar that was so far beyond repair and so badly out of tune that it made my ears hurt. Everyone in the band knew it and everyone in the pub knew it. We had two choices; stop and call it off or persevere.
To cut a long story short (and believe me I could have made this a lot longer), we made the wrong decision. Aardvark and the Swinging Testicles died that night. Both on stage and as an entity. We left, we burned the bootleg tapes and we never, ever performed again in public. Fingers pointed, allegations were made and we let our 'artistic differences' stop the charade before we started ordering Porsches on credit.
The lesson? Preparation. Redundancy. Back-up plans. All of those I learned that night and I remember on a daily basis, even if my subconscious blocks the humilation I experienced that taught me those lessons.
Fifteen minutes of fame and a great life-lesson. I'd do it again in a heartbeat, but I'd probably punch the guitarist this time.
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