Microsoft Sucks!

Are you sick and tired of my ranting and raving about things I can't change?  Are you a member of the Microsoft fan club?  If either of these apply, read no further.

The Back Story
Once upon a time, my brother, Pat, and I, could exchange emails.  That ended several years ago when I received a 'failed' message from 'Postmaster', with an attachment that contained 7 lines of information, all meaningless to me, last 3 words: 'Blacklisted by user.'  I published a post (Blacklisted; 6/28/12) about this, explained what happened, asked if anyone else had this problem, and if so, what did they do about it?  One person commented that he had a similar problem, but had no useful advice to offer.

Who was the 'user' that did the blacklisting?  Pat and I are users but we didn't do it.  We're safe senders/receivers on our computers.  So, it had to be the ISP or some another entity in the electronic chain twixt sender and receiver.  Pat checked with his ISP and was told that it had to be fixed at my end.  I sent Pat an email from my computer, using a gmail address instead of the msn address I usually use.  It went through okay, which meant that the computers were okay and so were the ISPs.  And, that meant the culprit is msn, aka hotmail, aka Microsoft.

Microsoft
I called their help number, recording said go online.  Did online chat with Ken, sent him the error message and after several minutes of asinine questions, he admitted the problem was beyond his scope (no shit?), gave me a different phone number to call.  I called, got the same recording as before, was directed to the same website as before.

I tried online chat again with Tania, another so-called tech.  SOS: beyond her scope, etc.  She directed me to a website which got me right back to the same damned help screen as the first 2 directives.

Thinking 'third time's the charm', I tried online chat yet again.  SOS.  Again.  Was advised to complete a form with the help of my ISP and submit it to Microsoft when completed.  I was seriously tempted to tell her where to stick her freakin' form but did not.  Remarkable self control!

For each online chat I was offered a choice of 3 pictured techs with star ratings.  I picked the highest rated one each time but never got the one I picked - nor any of the others that were pictured and highly rated.  Bait and switch: pick the A-team, get a bench warmer.  Microsoft's message to customers is loud and clear: We dominate the software market so why should we care about customer satisfaction?  Piss off!

Venting
They emailed a customer satisfaction survey to me.  Oh boy!  Gonna have great fun filling out that sucker!  They'll immediately clean up their act, don't ya think?  Right.  And, I'm the king of Denmark.

Bird Brain

The scenario: a guy heads over to a 24/7 tavern where he's confident he will meet an attractive gal.  He doesn't though.  Not the first time he goes, nor the second, nor the 25th.  Still, he keeps going back to the same darn watering hole.  In fact, he pops in several times every day and night, even at ungodly hours, always hopeful, always disappointed.

There's nothing obviously wrong with the guy.  He's not bad looking, dresses nicely, has a pleasant personality.  So, what's the problem?  Maybe it's the venue.  Women have their favorite hangouts, appears this guy's bar of choice isn't one of them.  So, why doesn't he move on, try another place?

Because he's a bird brain.  Really.  I've just described the behavior of a male mockingbird that's been singing its heart out around our yard for 2+ weeks.  He's out there every hour of the day and night, has sleeping habits even weirder than mine.  In fact, I wonder if he sleeps at all.  I give him high marks for perseverance, stamina and musical expertise (has an impressive repertoire of songs) but an F in judgement.

Male Mockingbird

Bird Brain's songs were pleasing to the ear for several days, tolerable for a few more.  Now, he's  beginning to bug me.  Even the most lovely piece of music becomes stale after numerous repetitions.  C'mon bird, enough already.  Face it: you picked the wrong hangout, she's not coming, give it up!

Every so often, Bird Brain does this display thing, flashing his white wing bars.

Seems to me he's doing everything right - except tumble to the fact that there are no females in these parts and that he needs to move on.  Maybe he came late to the party and all the ladybirds are already taken.  Yeah, I can just see the other guy birds, all mated up, getting it on, smirking at Bird Brain, teasing him about his late arrival and totally striking out.  Life's a bitch, BB.  Better luck next year.

Scream!

6 AM.  Scream.

Huh?

Shout!

What the.....?

HOLLER!!!

Oh shit!  It's Trish.  She's outside.  Must be coyotes attacking the dog!

I hop out of bed and charge into the living room.  Trish and dogs are back inside.  She's shaking like a leaf, staring out the patio door.

Yep, it was coyotes alright, 3 of 'em.  One on our upper driveway, two more off to the side, their plans for a fresh poodle breakfast thwarted by Trish's loud noises.

Lots of coyotes in LHC.  They're strong, bold, wily predators and they make short work of any pet that's left unattended, have even been known to take dogs on leash.

The neighbors woke up early today.  C'est la vie.

The Rat Race

Thumbing through a magazine recently, I came across the phrase 'the rat race'.  The synapses fired: Bingo!  Got out my scissors and cut it out of the magazine.  I had been casting about for a theme for a new painting, a semi-abstract, nighttime, cityscape collage.  I wanted the painting to mean something, or say something, or ......... something.  Something more than just random pieces of stuff glued to canvas - plus a mess of paint, of course.  Rat race equals city in my mind because my corporate years were spent in large city office buildings - and airplanes, rental cars and hotels.

The Rat Race

Acrylic Collage on Canvas

18" x 24"

20 pieces of paper, mostly single words, are glued to the canvas.  Several are easily discernible, even in the small photo, above.  It's a 'come hither' thing, though: the closer you get, the more words you see.  The Dilbert cartoon in the lower right is the bait. 

I'm finally getting into semi-abstract mode but it's a struggle.  Gotta keep mentally slapping myself upside the head and pushing myself away from the details.  I'm not alone in this struggle: "It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child."  Pablo Picasso

BTW, ever read the definition of synapse?  Didn't think so.  Okay, gonna put you in the know, big time.  Warning: reading this on a full stomach is likely to cause indigestion and nausea, in addition to the common side effects of vertigo and disorientation.  Here you go:

Synapse:  a region where nerve impulses are transmitted and received, encompassing the axon 
terminal of a neuron that releases neurotransmitters in response to an impulse, an 
extremely small gap across which the neurotransmitters travel, and the adjacent 
membrane of an axon, dendrite, or muscle or gland cell with the appropriate receptor
 molecules for picking up the neurotransmitters.

Turds of Mystery

Why are mice having parties on the tile just outside our front door?  Several times a month we find several mouse-sized turds there, and, occasionally, we notice a few insect body parts as well, wings and legs.  This has been going on for some time.

The crime scene 

Recently, the pest control guy was here to do the annual termite inspection.  I told him about the mystery turds, asked him what he thought was going on.  "Bats," said he.  Bats?  Really?  Okay, yeah, that makes more sense than mice taking dumps in our entry but nowhere else that I've noticed. Besides, mice aren't known for their ability to leap into the air and catch flying insects.

I thought bats flew around at night catching bugs, snarfing them up on the wing, and when they had their fill, or got tired or dawn rolled around - whichever came first - they returned home and slept all day.  Is our entryway 'home'?  Never saw any bats hanging out (the original hanger outers) there in the daytime - nor the nighttime for that matter.  I monitored the area for several days and nights. Nada.  Nary a bat did I see.  However, evidence continued to pile up.  So to speak.

Apparently, the bats were using the entryway the same way I used to use a public park near my office.  During nice weather, I'd take by brown bag lunch outside and consume it on a park bench.  Well........, not exactly the same way: I didn't crap on the bench after lunch.

It's 2 AM.  Ding and Wom, bat siblings, have been on the fly since dusk.  Ding squeaks, "Hey Wom, I'm beat!  What say we each grab a large bug, head on over to Mike's, have a leisurely snack and hang out awhile"  Wom: "Sounds great, Ding!  I have to take a crap anyway - and it's always fun to do it at Mike's, really pisses him off.  See ya there."

Entryway ceiling with shiny ribbons hanging in corners.

Pest guy suggested hanging shiny objects from the entryway ceiling, said it was an effective bat repellent.  So, yesterday, I tacked up some shiny black and silver curly ribbons, one in each corner of the ceiling (and scraped the bat guano off of the upper stucco walls while I was on the ladder).  I'm thinking I should add another shiny hanger from the light.  We'll see.

Beep

It's 12:30 AM, been asleep for 3 hours, something wakes me up.  Huh?  What?  I try to go back to sleep...........  Beep.  Shit!  Friggin smoke alarm.  Needs new battery.  Maybe I can sleep through it............  Beep............beep...........beep.  Nope, ain't gonna happen.  Trish is awake, too.  "I'll take care of it," I mumble, getting out of bed.

I get dressed, listen for the next beep to determine which one of the 6 usual suspects is the current offender, which turns out to be the one in Trish's sewing room.  I get the stepladder and a fresh 9 volt battery and install it.  No more beep.  But, I'm fully awake now so I turn on the coffee machine and do my usual wee-hours routine: email, online Scrabble, study my in-progress painting and determine next steps.

Smoke alarms have saved many lives I suppose, but man are they pain in the ass!  Besides being awakened by the beeps, the damned things go off whenever there's a tad bit of cooking smoke, making an incredibly loud and piercing noise, enough to wake the dead.

Dogs, with their sensitive hearing, really get nailed by the screeching.  They get traumatized and tremble like a bowl of jello being carried by a person with Parkinson's - or like the Ghost of Christmas Future just revealed that the world would run out of dog food next week.  It takes them nearly an hour to recover.  We solved the problem in the RV by simply removing the battery - but that wouldn't be a wise move in the house.

Several years ago, the state of Oregon added a statute to landlord/tenant law: all smoke alarms in residential rentals must have 10-year batteries.  The newer, long-life batteries are lithium; conventional alkaline batteries don't last nearly as long.  After changing out the bad battery, I recalled that OR statute, and decided to equip all 6 smoke alarms with lithium batteries.  Both Lowe's and Home Depot had them in stock at $6.50 each.  No beeps for 10 years.  Yes!

You're probably aware that lithium is used to treat numerous illnesses and mental conditions including bipolar, depression, anemia and anorexia.  However, I think medical lithium has a different formula than battery lithium, so if you're depressed, sucking on one of these batteries is unlikely to prove beneficial.  Nope, don't think you'd get a charge out of it.

I apologize for the screamingly obvious pun, tried to resist but just couldn't.

Hualapai

What's a Hualapai?  First and foremost, it's the name of a Native American tribe that lived in the mountains near Kingman, AZ.  They now live on a reservation several miles northwest of their original stomping grounds, in and around the village of Peach Springs.  The word Hualapai means 'people of the tall pines'.

It's also the name of a scenic mountain range near Kingman, AZ, and a county park that was partially built by the CCC in the 1930s.  And, it's the name of a lodge/restaurant that's located near the county park at an elevation of 6100'.  We had brunch at the restaurant yesterday.

The restaurant serves up a decent buffet brunch on Sundays

and they get a goodly crowd of diners.

Elk hang out near the restaurant.

After eating we strolled around, got within 25' of the elk.

They're used to people, didn't bat an eye.

Our excursion to The Hualapais was mainly inspired by curiosity about the campground.  Trish and I had planned to camp there just prior to our return to LHC last summer, but bagged it.  Cabin fever. There are 2 campground areas.  The older one is a wooded maze of narrow, sometimes steep, winding roads with several log and stone cabins, plus spots for tents and small RVs.  The newer area is essentially a gravel parking lot but it can handle larger RVs, has full hookups and great views of the surrounding mountains.  

The general store resides near the lodge.

It's the size of a single-bay garage and, generally speaking, doesn't live up to its name.

It has a few clothing items, cold drinks and ice cream, that's about it.

The Hualapais are the folks who own the Grand Canyon Skywalk, 

a cantilevered walkway that extends out over the cliffs.  It's located

towards the southwest end of the Park.  Here's a picture of it:

 http://www.grandcanyonwest.com/the-grand-canyon-skywalk/

Fess up: you thought Hualapai was a Hawaiian pineapple dessert, didn't ya?