In My Defense

This was my blog for about four years, from May 2003 - January 2007. Finally I tired of complaining about politics and religion. Below are some of the bestest posts, then a link to the whole archives. I've also displayed all the comments in the archives since those were fun too, but commenting is turned off now.

February 24, 2004

Outsourced Common Sense

My favorite Exec came by. The one that sends out these sort of emails. The one that sometimes uses me as a human favorites folder. "My email is so SLOW!" she said. "I click send and it just sits there! I have like five things in my OutBox!"

I have been down this path with her many times. It is a well-worn path. Well-worn by ME, I mean. I travel this path so often I feel responsible for it. I clear the branches out of the way and pick up trash from the other hikers. But the path is really just for me - the other I.T. people are too smart to walk this way.

So I begin our little play. The one where I say what I have to say and she doesn't listen to what I am saying, but keeps on talking as if I had not said what I had to say, which is an answer to her problem, because that is the way that she gets you to do something for her that she feels she doesn't have time to do.

ME: Oh no - your email is slow? Hmmm. Well, have you gotten any notices from the email admin that your mailbox is reaching its size limit?

EXEC: Yes - I got one last week. But just one!

ME: OK. So you cleaned out your email box? Not just your Inbox, but your subfolders and your Sent Items? Especially items with attachments? I can show you how to create a .PST file again if you like...

EXEC: I mean, I've got like FIVE things in my outgoing items folder, just waiting to go. Should I just go to lunch?

ME: I think when you move some of those emails out of your mailbox and into personal folders, it's going to start flowing again. Can I show you how to create a .PST file again, it will be easy-

EXEC: OK, these are things that REALLY need to go out. Should I just go to lunch? Is it possible for them to increase the size limits on my mailbox?

ME: Why don't I write the email admin and copy you on it, but I'm guessing he'll say the same thing about cleaning out your email box.

It's amazing to me. I offer up the solution and she sort of... SCOOTS AROUND HAVING TO LISTEN TO THAT, and then keeps talking. I know we're really into outsourcing things now. Are we also outsourcing basic skills and common sense? I wish I could talk this way! That would be quite a skill-set to leverage!

God help me, then I pass the buck onto our poor email admin. I write a simple note to him, CCing her. And then I instant message him and beg forgiveness.

July 21, 2003

I Have No Leg-room and I Must Shift

I do not know what professional Asshole and Writer Harlan Ellison’s book “I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream” is about, but I’m going to assume it’s about my airplane ride to London.

He might also have titled it “I Have No Elbow Room and I Must Slice Brisket” or “I Have No Leg-room and I Must Shift” or “I Have no Surface and I Must Place This Cup of Scalding Hot Coffee Down.”

Maybe another title he considered was “I Have No Easy Access to the Aisle and I Must Pee,” or “I Have No Luggage and I Must Change.”

I have written elsewhere with many exclamation points and much bold type about the state of air travel for the economy class, a class that I find myself in steady belongingment to. But not here! So here it goes again.


THAT’S what I’d be claiming if only I’d been a miniaturized version of myself, say around three feet high! I’d have had all the leg room in the WORLD!

It really is incredible. How much more can they make per flight with that extra row? If they could just remove ONE ROW then I’d be able to walk right now. It’s simply beyond belief.

During the meal service everyone was asked to bring their seat up – except for the man in front of me. I had to eat my food with my elbows pressed into my sides. I was like a Tyrannosaur, with those tiny spindly useless arms trying to tear into prey. This man did not raise his seat the entire time. He was sleeping soundly, God bless him! In a delirium of leg pain, unable to sleep myself, I began to picture him as Michael Gambon from “Gosford Park,” cradling some little shit of a dog and keeping me in debt by refusing to entertain a business proposal.

DAMN YOU, Michael Gambon, DAMN YOU and your little dog too!

Posted by Chris at 6:30 PM


The Saga of the Mark III Ants
Open-Source Ideas for Business
The Bureau of Adequate Signage
Requirements for the Future
The Plural Project
Renderfest '04
Scandals in Alternate Universes
Suspensory Cyclopentane Porn Poetry
Things I'll Have No Truck With
The Madness of FattyFat
Operation: Go West
The Yeti Strikes


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