MOVING ALONG THE ASSEMBLY LINE

Thanks, but no. I've had my fill. Time to coordinate and articulate all those hours I've already spent chasing the images of a 144,000 sloppy but willing . . . and the cage is definitely out of the question. My underwear is caked in blood every morning after a fresh dressing at night. This is not an easy surgery to "put behind one" in the rush back toward the routine of merely sitting.

The 8600 finally arrived in woeful condition. The cardboard box and styrofoam packing both looked as if the world's angriest pit bull had slipped them the big one. The CPU was not even inserted into what was left of the packing. The mouse and powercord were missing, the visibly fatigued cardboard sooted and sullied, loosely retaped with the metallic footprint showing through the three inch gap at the bottom flaps. The floppydrive coverplate was missing one of its two snap-on prongs, the other needed a ninety degree twist back to normal.

Of course, the plate doesn't not stay snapped into place as a result of the missing prong. Apple said there was nothing they could do about it, when Liberty called to report the horrendous UPS service yesterday. Ran her a long line of probable first day on the job bullshit even telling her that Apple could not track the shipment (to verify any details, how long it took to get to us, etc. after telling her it was a money back return deal ONLY in the first seven days AFTER they shipped). Sue defied them in her usual weak way that indeed SHE had tracked the whole shippping path since June 20 (uh, to July 6, considerably longer than a seven day loop) from the UPS website, which she was sure he too could access since it was Apple who had E-mailed us the UPS tracking number (actually my version of the argument is probably more detailed than hers, unfortunately).

Back and forth, disgusting telephone dancestepping remarkable only in its depth of ignorance and misguided presumptuousness from the once highly touted Apple side of the equation and the frustratingly (for me, if not its own bearer) weak powers of articulation on the consumer side. They finally hung up, nothing resolved except a 90-day warranty. I will fret on this a few days before deciding whether or not to step into the ring to mandate satisfaction, or else simply let it go by pushing the limits of the machine in the first 90, find some spare parts elsewhere if I need them, and get back to business, knowing I'll never buy directly from Apple ever again (this ain't the first direct buy that's gone sour).

Miraculously, the damned thing booted right up. It's running OS 7.6.1 which we'll upgrade to OS 8.1. Still haven't decided on a server package, but as is my wont, I'll probably settle on the Mac industry leader, spend the bigger bucks on WebStar, and top it all off with the full throttle of nifty add-ons. And soon be comnpeting with the best and the rest, right here from the Dollhouse Studio Z.

Bat criteria? Simple. One that FEELS good and LOOKS good in the hands of the slugger. I'd ramble off a few brandnames and some arcaneia about appropriate lengths and weights to suit the needs and style of the hitter, but the doodads are calling. . . .

DIAMOND DOG & NICKEL COMPARISONS

Originally published on March 10, 1997

Whoa! Un mistek! It should read "and I reckon we'll see you Friday night at Howrey Simon near ten..."

You'll have time to sign-up at your new sportsclub, get your first sweaty whacks in, recover and greet us by then I would suppose.

Batting cage residues: not as sore as you predicted. In fact, not sore at all, just tired, and that's as much a response to excess spirits in a bottle as pumped up team spirit in the batting cage. How's your arm feeling this morning? Uh, not that you were exactly slinging bullets, but it IS a new activity, and spring arm is simply a fact of diamond lifestyle. I feel a slight ache in my throwing muscles. Next week you should really try to flex your own a little bit more in that department, and you definitely need work in the fly ball depth perception routine, but I am confident your natural grace will aid you as quickly as your confidence, not cocksurity, or over-confidence, but simple humility-driven confidence, rises to the occasion. Even infielders must snag a pop fly on occasion...

As I write this I am remember Kerouac's fondness for baseball, and Bukowski's overwrought distaste for it...

CB was simply a jerk, preferring instead to stress his ingenuities and flex his flopmop muscles at the racetrack. A twenty spot staked on a figger-rigged mare of many sure beats running around the bases after just swatting the long ball, in his book I reckon, but man, baseball IS the game! Anybody can play at some level. And you don't have to lose a lot of money to the mafia in the process...

GT

A SLICE OF NOSTALGIA (BEFORE THE CRASH)

Originally published on March 17, 2000

You know Steve, I've actually given some thought to this idea several times these past few weeks, mostly on Sundays as I eagerly scan the sports pages for baseball bits, but I'll probably pass, what with my persistent feeling of work overload, our new house hunt and sales fever, and such. But thanks for asking. Would love to bring those Poets back, but I think the best I can do is wish you good luck with the Rhubarbs.

Speaking of gallery openings. Just read an article yesterday about DC's NOMA (north of Massachusetts Ave.) being the center of a new commercial push up the New York Ave. corridor, complete with four new circles, office buildings, upscale housing, shops, et cetera, the mayor is touting. Of course, the urban renewal project will more than likely oust the artists who rent loft space in old buildings amidst mechanic shops and other grease monkey estabs, and one was quoted saying that they would like to organize in collectively buying a place east of there, as in NE, so that they won't fall victim next time to this sort of urban swell.

And so it goes, the Stadium-Armory infestation continues to remain the invisible fringe west of the Anacostia, although the mayor is still talking like DC will hustle in a team which will play at RFK until a downtown stadium can be built across from the White House...

We drove by a few places yesterday from a short list of available units in DC provided us by our agent, and will actually visit inside a couple of them if they are still available after this past weekend. It's amazing that DC is suffering a housing shortage. Last Friday afternoon we had our first walkthrough here in the Dollhouse, but the tall professional anglo from the Smithsonian was decidedly not interested, but our agent remains highly optimistic of a quick sale. Our first scheduled Open House for next Sunday has been postponed at least a week at my request, so I can get the courtyard up to snuff once this last (hopefully) cold whiff passes. Sigh. . .

Meanwhile, go hip young man, nothing lasts forever. . .

GT