An Open Letter to the Cheap Seats

…I found a website that seems dedicated to announcing to the world what a crumb Barry Bonds is. I won’t recreate some of the ill-informed rantings from there, but I could not restrain myself from posting a little poison pen contribution to the operator of the site. Continue reading “An Open Letter to the Cheap Seats”

Advertisements

Participated in the TM Evaluation Contest

…I was a contestant in the Area F5 Evaluation contest. I thought that my evaluation was sound and good. The judges thought that Carl Nail’s evaluation was more textbook and he won. I was happy with the outcome because I thought that three of the performances were just about all good enough to have won. Mostly I appreciated the opportunity to hone my skills at providing valuable evaluations for top notch speakers.

This was a good contest night.

—v

Letter updated

…I am so sorry to hear about what is happening to poor Tom DeLay. It must be tough for his family and friends. Especially since some of us are out here giggling about the phrase “criminal indictments.” Too bad there’s not a little more of that to go around.

It reminded me of my letter to the president a few days ago, so I dropped in and re-read it, then tweaked it a little.

My Wiki is Dead

…it’s been running for three years and like my desk, accumulates the debris that falls out of my mind.

I run an installation of TWiki and have been doing that for what seems to me a very long time now.  Last week, a breach in the system that hosts it was discovered and now I have to reconstitute the wiki elsewhere.  I don’t know how long that will take me and until I do it, my wiki is dead.  I’m actually not sad about it though.  It’s an information resource that will be back in service soon.  When it returns I shall mention it here.

Meanwhile, my desk is beginning to look like the wiki.  It’s a growing pile of scrawled drawings and diagrams, notes scribbled while I’ve been writing, and fliers, business, and bookmarks from all over.  I can’t throw any of it away yet.  So it accumulates, reorganizes itself, yields serendipitous offerings at key moments, and obscures something at others.

I love my office.  Always.  It sort of grows in around me as I’m there longer and longer.  And over time it begins to represent the state of my mind.  What have I been thinking about, what have I been working on, what bright ideas just screamed out at me to move a pen?

For now, what screams is my work, so I shall go to that.

 —v
  

Dear Mister President

…something hit me this morning, and I realized that I could love our President.  I’ve been trying to find a way to do that for a long time and it’s finally come to me.

When someone you love is on the wrong track, you do your best to communicate compassionately with them and hope that they see the light.

That realization of mine gave rise to the following letter. What would you say to the President?

An Undeniable Message

…I have not connected cable, satellite, or even a pair of rabbit ears here, and I haven’t been exposed to the scope and intensity of the sorrow in New Orleans. My experience of what happened is given by sketchy details, comments from friends, and a vague impression.

In a way though, that has given me a very free perspective to contemplate this event. I don’t have any personal acquaintances involved, and I don’t have any fond recollections of New Orleans because I never made it there.

As a result, I thought of something today, but I would not want to necessarily share it with someone who is still experiencing sorrow in the matter. Fair Warning