Nippon was a second generation immigrant. His father had trusted him with the business soon after his 32nd birthday. Raindrop's family had been very happy to accept a small dowry for her. In the old country a small dowry was an embarrassment; any dowry at all was an embarrassment in Texas.
"What shall we tell our friends about the Yin and the Yang?" he asked himself in her presence.
Her eyes searched the room for answers, and when she met his gaze she ventured, "The Yin is dark and cold, and the Yang is warm and light?"
Mr Li contemplated this. "Or should we say, 'The wisdom of the Yin is to torture, the wisdom of the Yang is to prosper?'" he asked in return.
"We haven't told the little one that!" she responded.
"We haven't told the little one that there is a Yin and a Yang yet," he replied with Chinese directness. "How will they understand the Moon is a Yin and the Earth is a Yang? Or how will I ever explain that during the Ming dynasty the Emperor was a Yang and his daughter was a Yin, while the ruling class in its entirety was a Yin, but the people were the Yang? They will ask me, 'What is Texas, a Yin or a Yang?' If I say it is a Yin, it is too light and hot! If I say it is a Yang, the heat has the wisdom to torture."
Raindrop solved this problem with surprising clarity. "Tell them that the Mountains are the Yang and that _water_ is the Yin!"
"Will they understand?" asked Nippon, perplexedly.
"I hope not," replied Raindrop. The mystique of Yin and Yang was like the feminine mystique of all China.
Li Nippon pondered all this and more as he carefully watered his Bonsai Orange tree.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
A Donkey, a mule and a Bethlehem ass;
Ursula walked into Sam's immediate proximity with her hair brush in action. She was finishing up an extended currying, and her locks glistened as she shook them out.
"Teal says Travis and Bubba MIRLed... apparently Bubba is looking for a Biblical application of Missouri mules."
Sam had been watching appreciatively, and qualified her observation with comprehension by saying, "Well... _your_ Biblical application of a mule is VERY appealing in those boy shorts. You fill them in a way that implies successful reproduction on a schedule. Care to speculate what they'd do about it in the 'show me' State?"
She preened a little and responded, "They'd likely tame it with a little 'Southern Comfort,' followed hard on by a liberal application of 'Wild Goose.' Care to retrace the Louis and Clark expedition up the Mississippi tonight, in homage?"
His response was somewhat predictable, but well appreciated. "Wild Horses couldn't DRAG me away! ...and what kind of a word is 'MIRL?'"
"A computer word, silly! It's an acronym for M_eet I-n R-eal L_ife."
"Hmmm..." was Sam's response. "And Travis tried to tell me that 'personal computer manufacturers can't invent acronyms.'"
She grinned nefariously. "Sam, you KNOW I'm not ignorant about EVERYTHING! P-C-M-C-I-A? That's the thing that connected the old laptop to the internet wirelessly. I haven't forgotten."
He felt the need to exert male dominance, and struck out on a new course with a non-sequiter.
"How much did the Pirate's ear-rings cost?" he asked.
She threatened him with strip 20-questions if he didn't behave, and admitted she didn't know.
"A bucc-an-eer." he enumerated with satisfaction. "He stole 'em fair 'n square, but he made his first mate sell 'em to him for a receipt!" he added victoriously.
She dug down for a response.
"Where does the luck of the Irish come from?" she asked in return.
He observed that she had rather less than 20 articles of clothing in the pot, and admitted ignorance.
"From Ireland," she denoted authoritatively. "Do you know how I _know_ they are so lucky?" she continued, capitalizing on her advantage.
He responded by holding his watch up by the strap.
"No snakes in Ireland," she gleefully finished.
His description of the habitat of garter snakes, and the ratio of gentle to harmless they illustrate, was instructive. "I'm gentle, by I ain't harmless," he concluded.
They fell off a conversational cliff into the bedroom.
"Teal says Travis and Bubba MIRLed... apparently Bubba is looking for a Biblical application of Missouri mules."
Sam had been watching appreciatively, and qualified her observation with comprehension by saying, "Well... _your_ Biblical application of a mule is VERY appealing in those boy shorts. You fill them in a way that implies successful reproduction on a schedule. Care to speculate what they'd do about it in the 'show me' State?"
She preened a little and responded, "They'd likely tame it with a little 'Southern Comfort,' followed hard on by a liberal application of 'Wild Goose.' Care to retrace the Louis and Clark expedition up the Mississippi tonight, in homage?"
His response was somewhat predictable, but well appreciated. "Wild Horses couldn't DRAG me away! ...and what kind of a word is 'MIRL?'"
"A computer word, silly! It's an acronym for M_eet I-n R-eal L_ife."
"Hmmm..." was Sam's response. "And Travis tried to tell me that 'personal computer manufacturers can't invent acronyms.'"
She grinned nefariously. "Sam, you KNOW I'm not ignorant about EVERYTHING! P-C-M-C-I-A? That's the thing that connected the old laptop to the internet wirelessly. I haven't forgotten."
He felt the need to exert male dominance, and struck out on a new course with a non-sequiter.
"How much did the Pirate's ear-rings cost?" he asked.
She threatened him with strip 20-questions if he didn't behave, and admitted she didn't know.
"A bucc-an-eer." he enumerated with satisfaction. "He stole 'em fair 'n square, but he made his first mate sell 'em to him for a receipt!" he added victoriously.
She dug down for a response.
"Where does the luck of the Irish come from?" she asked in return.
He observed that she had rather less than 20 articles of clothing in the pot, and admitted ignorance.
"From Ireland," she denoted authoritatively. "Do you know how I _know_ they are so lucky?" she continued, capitalizing on her advantage.
He responded by holding his watch up by the strap.
"No snakes in Ireland," she gleefully finished.
His description of the habitat of garter snakes, and the ratio of gentle to harmless they illustrate, was instructive. "I'm gentle, by I ain't harmless," he concluded.
They fell off a conversational cliff into the bedroom.
A meal at MIRL'ens
Bubba and Travis met for lunch at a fast food restaurant. Travis' metabolism was that of a greyhound, and he ordered liberally. Bubba was more conservative with a small Coke and a small ice cream cone. The conversation turned to End User License Agreements, and Travis asked Bubba, "Have you seen some of the newer Open Source Software EULAs?"
"You talkin' 'bout the ones that just say GPG2? Yeah... anything's better than Microsoft!"
Travis contemplated this, and decided that, (in order to obtain time to eat,) he was going to have to get Bubba to redeliver one of his canned soap box speeches. He reasoned that the review would benefit them both, and sallied forth with the request, "Could you go over that one for me, one more time?"
"Well Travis, in my opinion Microsoft uses it's EULAs to keep all Microsoft Developers subsidiary to its own Research and Development." Bubba licked the drips of ice cream carefully, so as not to spill any.
"How so?" Travis replied when he finished his bite.
"You know all this Travis. One of these days I'm gonna have a test, just to hold you responsible. Their EULAs are all English, but the vocabulary allows for so many inferences that no human brain can master the possibilities. Usually there is one arcane provision in there that means you have to send Microsoft 5.2% of all proceeds and profits from anything you earn from an application developed using Microsoft Development Tools!"
"Prove it," Travis shot back.
"OK, suppose I decide to list all possible alphabets from the ordinary English one we use. I'd start off with a to z, just like normal. Then I'd have to list all the A-a to z combos. Then the B-a to z combos and so on. Then I'd list all the a to z-A combos and all the a to z-B combos, etc. When I finally got to the end, using ANY system of patterns, no matter how far out I extend it, IF I come to a stopping place, THEN I can list the very last list out again, and add an 'a,' at the end, and it's a whole new alphabet list. The exhaustive list of all broken patterns is incomplete, and a German named Goedel (Girdle Travis, not Go-Dell, like YOU always say,) mathematically said 'Give it up, you ain't gonna list 'em all,' in a theorem called 'The Incompleteness Theorem.'" He mentally reviewed his monologue and decided it was sufficient and smiled at Travis to communicate he was done.
Undaunted, Travis finished his current mouthful and inquired, "...and this proves...?"
"Why Travis, did Teal beat ya over the head with an AGGIE? It PROVES you can't infer EVERYTHING there is to know about a Microsoft EULA ever. In ONE READING, you can infer things that are important to ya from a single context, but ya have to review at least once before every paying program application, or the IRS will come after ya for unreported income to Microsoft. It's a legal bind!" He turned his attention to a soggy cone, yielding to unattended drippings from the contents.
Travis was not convinced that Bubba believed everything he said, and decided to rib his fellow 5t accordingly. "Your point?" he asked pointedly.
As Travis changed subjects from Burger to Fries, Bubba contemplated beating him over the head with an Aggie. Then inspiration struck. Travis had missed a trick, and he was going to be the victor in the confrontation. "Travis, you are not burdened with an understanding intellect! YOU install a program and you just ignore the thing IF it doesn't inconvenience you. Why, I've even seen you run a cracker 13 times, just to gen up a valid Microdollar code to install a Microdollar Ap. My POINT was that IF the Open Source people want to specify anything NOVEL, they are gonna have a list of GPG EULAs so long it'll boggle the mind!"
"All they have to do is put GPG2, and then add '...excepting on Thursdays from 3-4 AM!'" Travis disagreed blithely.
Bubba gave Travis a searching looking over that would have made a puppy look humorous, just as if his head turned on a pivot. Maybe he WAS that ignorant. He wasn't stupid, or things he said would be stupider, and he wasn't an idiot... Bubba himself had seen him learn from a mistake. "You need to write you Kansas City cousin Mo, and show it to him!" he compromised. "Mo isn't dumb."
Travis was diverted and missed the implication before he spoke. "Not dumb, but more stubborn than an Aggie mule!" he exclaimed. He paused as comprehension flooded through his brain. "I can see our team missed THAT two-points. I was trying to avoid a three-second violation," he sheepishly apologized.
Bubba could now afford to be magnanimous. "It wasn't exactly a slam dunk," he agreed. "On balance, it's a new shot clock."
"When I can't pass, I shoot," Travis affirmed.
"When I can't shoot, I pass," Bubba responded, and bussed the table. "Later?"
"U2," Travis answered in parting. The Kawasaki buzzed like a mosquito, and Bubba contemplated suggesting Glasspaks. No... it was better to leave it deceptively powerful, like his computer and his mouth.
"You talkin' 'bout the ones that just say GPG2? Yeah... anything's better than Microsoft!"
Travis contemplated this, and decided that, (in order to obtain time to eat,) he was going to have to get Bubba to redeliver one of his canned soap box speeches. He reasoned that the review would benefit them both, and sallied forth with the request, "Could you go over that one for me, one more time?"
"Well Travis, in my opinion Microsoft uses it's EULAs to keep all Microsoft Developers subsidiary to its own Research and Development." Bubba licked the drips of ice cream carefully, so as not to spill any.
"How so?" Travis replied when he finished his bite.
"You know all this Travis. One of these days I'm gonna have a test, just to hold you responsible. Their EULAs are all English, but the vocabulary allows for so many inferences that no human brain can master the possibilities. Usually there is one arcane provision in there that means you have to send Microsoft 5.2% of all proceeds and profits from anything you earn from an application developed using Microsoft Development Tools!"
"Prove it," Travis shot back.
"OK, suppose I decide to list all possible alphabets from the ordinary English one we use. I'd start off with a to z, just like normal. Then I'd have to list all the A-a to z combos. Then the B-a to z combos and so on. Then I'd list all the a to z-A combos and all the a to z-B combos, etc. When I finally got to the end, using ANY system of patterns, no matter how far out I extend it, IF I come to a stopping place, THEN I can list the very last list out again, and add an 'a,' at the end, and it's a whole new alphabet list. The exhaustive list of all broken patterns is incomplete, and a German named Goedel (Girdle Travis, not Go-Dell, like YOU always say,) mathematically said 'Give it up, you ain't gonna list 'em all,' in a theorem called 'The Incompleteness Theorem.'" He mentally reviewed his monologue and decided it was sufficient and smiled at Travis to communicate he was done.
Undaunted, Travis finished his current mouthful and inquired, "...and this proves...?"
"Why Travis, did Teal beat ya over the head with an AGGIE? It PROVES you can't infer EVERYTHING there is to know about a Microsoft EULA ever. In ONE READING, you can infer things that are important to ya from a single context, but ya have to review at least once before every paying program application, or the IRS will come after ya for unreported income to Microsoft. It's a legal bind!" He turned his attention to a soggy cone, yielding to unattended drippings from the contents.
Travis was not convinced that Bubba believed everything he said, and decided to rib his fellow 5t accordingly. "Your point?" he asked pointedly.
As Travis changed subjects from Burger to Fries, Bubba contemplated beating him over the head with an Aggie. Then inspiration struck. Travis had missed a trick, and he was going to be the victor in the confrontation. "Travis, you are not burdened with an understanding intellect! YOU install a program and you just ignore the thing IF it doesn't inconvenience you. Why, I've even seen you run a cracker 13 times, just to gen up a valid Microdollar code to install a Microdollar Ap. My POINT was that IF the Open Source people want to specify anything NOVEL, they are gonna have a list of GPG EULAs so long it'll boggle the mind!"
"All they have to do is put GPG2, and then add '...excepting on Thursdays from 3-4 AM!'" Travis disagreed blithely.
Bubba gave Travis a searching looking over that would have made a puppy look humorous, just as if his head turned on a pivot. Maybe he WAS that ignorant. He wasn't stupid, or things he said would be stupider, and he wasn't an idiot... Bubba himself had seen him learn from a mistake. "You need to write you Kansas City cousin Mo, and show it to him!" he compromised. "Mo isn't dumb."
Travis was diverted and missed the implication before he spoke. "Not dumb, but more stubborn than an Aggie mule!" he exclaimed. He paused as comprehension flooded through his brain. "I can see our team missed THAT two-points. I was trying to avoid a three-second violation," he sheepishly apologized.
Bubba could now afford to be magnanimous. "It wasn't exactly a slam dunk," he agreed. "On balance, it's a new shot clock."
"When I can't pass, I shoot," Travis affirmed.
"When I can't shoot, I pass," Bubba responded, and bussed the table. "Later?"
"U2," Travis answered in parting. The Kawasaki buzzed like a mosquito, and Bubba contemplated suggesting Glasspaks. No... it was better to leave it deceptively powerful, like his computer and his mouth.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Latitude according to 5t character;
Three weeks had passed, and Melbourne had lost his bet with Andrea miserably. Ursula had kept her bargain with Sam by making the arrangements and payments herself... he had put her in charge of a budget. Melbourne now had two sheep dogs, and two, two year old mares, for draft. In equine terms they were mutts, and Sam had been careful to explain that the hereditary of the Mustang lacked inbreeding for the same reason. Melbourne's gratitude had been so profound as to embarrass them both, and they had narrowly avoided tears over the phone.
Sam was now in receipt of a mailer post-marked from Perth, containing the particulars of the relevant wire transfer. Ursula would have to make it her business to know Andrea's measurements and preferences. Her taste was desert ranch, and would fit in with ranchers the world over.
Now for the fun part... the surprise. His best research showed that Land Cruiser was the best bargain to be had local to the Darwin area, and he proceeded to make arrangements for it to be delivered unannounced. He composed his thoughts. "Mel," he began, "I was shopping for Range Rovers in Tasmania, and came across a batch of Land Cruisers for a song. Could you take this one off my hands, and point out a couple of deserving buddies, to take two more off my hands? You'd be responsible for shipping and handling, but the matching funds from the Paris to Dakar rally entries should adequately cover costs." Hmmm... Melbourne was a master of verbal sleight of hand. If he even suspected, there was no telling what would happen. Maybe the "matching funds," should become "the winner's cup," with Mel responsible for paying a proportionate fraction of the taxes? Yeah, that ought to do it. He squared his shoulders and addressed the keyboard. It was going to be an EX-Cellent day!
Sam was now in receipt of a mailer post-marked from Perth, containing the particulars of the relevant wire transfer. Ursula would have to make it her business to know Andrea's measurements and preferences. Her taste was desert ranch, and would fit in with ranchers the world over.
Now for the fun part... the surprise. His best research showed that Land Cruiser was the best bargain to be had local to the Darwin area, and he proceeded to make arrangements for it to be delivered unannounced. He composed his thoughts. "Mel," he began, "I was shopping for Range Rovers in Tasmania, and came across a batch of Land Cruisers for a song. Could you take this one off my hands, and point out a couple of deserving buddies, to take two more off my hands? You'd be responsible for shipping and handling, but the matching funds from the Paris to Dakar rally entries should adequately cover costs." Hmmm... Melbourne was a master of verbal sleight of hand. If he even suspected, there was no telling what would happen. Maybe the "matching funds," should become "the winner's cup," with Mel responsible for paying a proportionate fraction of the taxes? Yeah, that ought to do it. He squared his shoulders and addressed the keyboard. It was going to be an EX-Cellent day!
Saturday, April 11, 2009
A 5t reversal of fortune;
The morning email brought a new revelation. Melbourne had included digital pictures with his explanation. "My Dear Samuel:" it began. "It has come to my attention that your beloved 5ts have a public relations problem beyond compare in OZ! They appear to be engaged in a political revolt against Pacifism in its Australian manifestation; they are involved in gun running. Please contact management ASAP, and clue them in... I'd hate to see Texans badly received here OR in Vietnam." The browser broke for a new paragraph.
"Please find attached pictures explaining my URGENT request for verification that Newton's Laws of Physics have not been reversed. Andrea's last three upside down cakes have come out upside down! I am aware that those prepared with Hawaiian Pineapple are intended to do so, but Andrea assures me that her Italian and French Pineapple versions fared no better, and all three were upside down BEFORE she turned them over! Are you aware if Texan Pineapple upside down cakes are similarly non-conformist?"
Sam was delighted to hear from him, and his conversation with Travis at Cassandra's was sufficiently recent that he looked forward to matching wits with a master.
He cracked his knuckles at arm's length in front of him as he warmed to his task. The backspace key flew, as he willed his thoughts into ASCII.
"Melbourne: If you call me 'Dear' anymore, I'm gonna _start_ by being CHEAP. Then I'm gonna teach you all about why these 5t impostors need warnings about US a'comin', not us about THEM. THEN I'm gonna stand up tall, right between you and the sun, and ask you if you need a hand to help you up! You got it? By the way, BTW stands for how unimportant this is, but I'll thank you to remember that the 5ts have NO Bureaucracy! THINK about it!"
He hit a carriage return. "Now as to these pictures: Did these Pineapples come from traditional ground level thorn bushes, or did they fall off of a turnip truck on a backhaul run? Our Texan Pineapple trees are like Mexican Jumping Beans in this respect: every Pineapple cake made with one since Betsy Ross, RELIABLY flips completely, right inside the oven. We had to _invent_ OVEN _CLEANER_, the problem was so bad. As such, the versions meant to be upside down were right side up, and we had to send away to Hawaii for Pineapples that don't do that. Fact is, it's ages since I've even SEEN a TEXAN Pineapple!"
[Carriage Return]"Again, 'BTW,' Abercrombie and Fitch have an aggressive position on Chinese polished cotton this year... can I invest a dollar or two on behalf of you and Andrea? You can make it up later, with a wire from Western Union. As a matter of courtesy, please note; the wire HAS to come from Perth, or I'd be taking advantage of you... Western Union is a _stickler_ for protocol!"
He scanned his effort, and it met with his approval. "Yours Sincerely," he pecked out. "Sam Clementine the Trey."
He shared his finished product with Ursula, and upon her endorsement mashed the "send" button. In a moment of weakness, she had blurted out her secret, and he was "in on it," now.
"I think you better blow it with Andrea pretty soon too," he shared. "If you don't, she'll think you made her take charity when she eventually finds out... and she WILL find out: It's a female eventuality."
Ursula knew that the word eventuality, properly used, meant that the event was unavoidable in every aspect but chronology. "I agree. All we can do is try and control the timing of the leak," she concurred. "Sam, you make my heart want to hug you all by itself!"
His upturned gaze brimmed with unfeigned adoration. "I love you Urs," he preened.
It _was_ his turn!
"Please find attached pictures explaining my URGENT request for verification that Newton's Laws of Physics have not been reversed. Andrea's last three upside down cakes have come out upside down! I am aware that those prepared with Hawaiian Pineapple are intended to do so, but Andrea assures me that her Italian and French Pineapple versions fared no better, and all three were upside down BEFORE she turned them over! Are you aware if Texan Pineapple upside down cakes are similarly non-conformist?"
Sam was delighted to hear from him, and his conversation with Travis at Cassandra's was sufficiently recent that he looked forward to matching wits with a master.
He cracked his knuckles at arm's length in front of him as he warmed to his task. The backspace key flew, as he willed his thoughts into ASCII.
"Melbourne: If you call me 'Dear' anymore, I'm gonna _start_ by being CHEAP. Then I'm gonna teach you all about why these 5t impostors need warnings about US a'comin', not us about THEM. THEN I'm gonna stand up tall, right between you and the sun, and ask you if you need a hand to help you up! You got it? By the way, BTW stands for how unimportant this is, but I'll thank you to remember that the 5ts have NO Bureaucracy! THINK about it!"
He hit a carriage return. "Now as to these pictures: Did these Pineapples come from traditional ground level thorn bushes, or did they fall off of a turnip truck on a backhaul run? Our Texan Pineapple trees are like Mexican Jumping Beans in this respect: every Pineapple cake made with one since Betsy Ross, RELIABLY flips completely, right inside the oven. We had to _invent_ OVEN _CLEANER_, the problem was so bad. As such, the versions meant to be upside down were right side up, and we had to send away to Hawaii for Pineapples that don't do that. Fact is, it's ages since I've even SEEN a TEXAN Pineapple!"
[Carriage Return]"Again, 'BTW,' Abercrombie and Fitch have an aggressive position on Chinese polished cotton this year... can I invest a dollar or two on behalf of you and Andrea? You can make it up later, with a wire from Western Union. As a matter of courtesy, please note; the wire HAS to come from Perth, or I'd be taking advantage of you... Western Union is a _stickler_ for protocol!"
He scanned his effort, and it met with his approval. "Yours Sincerely," he pecked out. "Sam Clementine the Trey."
He shared his finished product with Ursula, and upon her endorsement mashed the "send" button. In a moment of weakness, she had blurted out her secret, and he was "in on it," now.
"I think you better blow it with Andrea pretty soon too," he shared. "If you don't, she'll think you made her take charity when she eventually finds out... and she WILL find out: It's a female eventuality."
Ursula knew that the word eventuality, properly used, meant that the event was unavoidable in every aspect but chronology. "I agree. All we can do is try and control the timing of the leak," she concurred. "Sam, you make my heart want to hug you all by itself!"
His upturned gaze brimmed with unfeigned adoration. "I love you Urs," he preened.
It _was_ his turn!
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
A Non-5t Epiphany;
Sam and Ursula were no more than 3 minutes toward home, when Ursula caught his attention out of the corner of his eye, and asked, "How long do you think it'll take Teal to get over Travis' last name being 'Grant?'"
Sam had been expecting no such comment, and he wasn't sure either, so his laughter was a little nervous. "He customarily asked ME to _Grant_ him clemency. I imagine he'll make out alright." He diplomatically dodged a further discussion of the virtue of Teal, and turned the discussion toward the Nippons. "How did the Nippons strike you?" he asked.
Ursula needed little time for contemplation before she replied. "Their dignity was what was most apparent. Mr. Li was unflappable, and Raindrop was sweet. I think she'll open up and come out of her shell later, when she's less afraid of giving offense. They remind me of my Uncle George and Aunt Gina."
This harmless comment united with a stray recollection of a missed opportunity for Nintendo, and kicked off a chain reaction of memory in the mind of Mr. Clementine worthy of Rube Goldberg. Like the Wonderful One Hoss Shay going to pieces, Sam came to a realization. He turned and looked Ursula square in the face and asked in a trembling whisper, "Are you pregnant?"
Ursula was taken by surprise. She had a feeling that if she had NOT been taken by surprise, she would have had a remarkable kaleidoscope of emotions - the element of surprise meant she couldn't be mad at Sam for not anticipating any specific particular one of them. She experienced joy at the thought of success of that kind. She experienced doubt that Sam would be equally joyous. She thought Sam would HAVE to be glad, just on principle, but he would STILL be wondering how to break it to his Dad... he didn't call the old man "The Frank Lloyd Wright of Finances," for nothing: a money bags and a sugar daddy he was not - he'd heard the words before and you couldn't even embarrass him with them. Would Sam be of the opinion that he wanted children, but later? What if he felt like he'd already had all he wanted to have?
Then there were the hopes and fears of all that life could bring; the hopes of excellence in all things, and the uncertainties of fortunes here on earth. Someone really ought to put a statistician to work, figuring out statistically what exactly is wrong with the world. She had no idea of the sleepless nights she might have expected, or the depth of the bond that this generated. She had no idea of the worthlessness of language to explain why HER baby's cry tore her soul if she did not respond, while those whose cries had fallen on untortured hearing in times past, now tortured her differently - where was this baby's _real_ mother? She wasn't pregnant, and the immediate loss of all the promised joy of that potential hit her in a rush... it would have been easier to be angry at him just for answering the question. She turned her soulful gaze upon his twin fires of caring and concern, and admitted "I love you anyway, Sam."
He couldn't know what she had just experienced, and stumbled predictably. Despite his lack of empathy, her words had warned him, and his love of her was not unlike a deeply flowing current in a quiet part of a river elsewhere furious with rapids. He returned her scrutiny perplexedly... "I love you too." He stopped, and let silence be eloquent in his stead. He knew it was important, but not exactly why or what to say. She dissolved into tears quietly, and he could only think: the charted course to stupid questions lies on the other side of the door way marked "Why are you crying?" He pondered the comment "Want to talk about it?" in silence. She cried, and he cared... it was enough.
Sam had been expecting no such comment, and he wasn't sure either, so his laughter was a little nervous. "He customarily asked ME to _Grant_ him clemency. I imagine he'll make out alright." He diplomatically dodged a further discussion of the virtue of Teal, and turned the discussion toward the Nippons. "How did the Nippons strike you?" he asked.
Ursula needed little time for contemplation before she replied. "Their dignity was what was most apparent. Mr. Li was unflappable, and Raindrop was sweet. I think she'll open up and come out of her shell later, when she's less afraid of giving offense. They remind me of my Uncle George and Aunt Gina."
This harmless comment united with a stray recollection of a missed opportunity for Nintendo, and kicked off a chain reaction of memory in the mind of Mr. Clementine worthy of Rube Goldberg. Like the Wonderful One Hoss Shay going to pieces, Sam came to a realization. He turned and looked Ursula square in the face and asked in a trembling whisper, "Are you pregnant?"
Ursula was taken by surprise. She had a feeling that if she had NOT been taken by surprise, she would have had a remarkable kaleidoscope of emotions - the element of surprise meant she couldn't be mad at Sam for not anticipating any specific particular one of them. She experienced joy at the thought of success of that kind. She experienced doubt that Sam would be equally joyous. She thought Sam would HAVE to be glad, just on principle, but he would STILL be wondering how to break it to his Dad... he didn't call the old man "The Frank Lloyd Wright of Finances," for nothing: a money bags and a sugar daddy he was not - he'd heard the words before and you couldn't even embarrass him with them. Would Sam be of the opinion that he wanted children, but later? What if he felt like he'd already had all he wanted to have?
Then there were the hopes and fears of all that life could bring; the hopes of excellence in all things, and the uncertainties of fortunes here on earth. Someone really ought to put a statistician to work, figuring out statistically what exactly is wrong with the world. She had no idea of the sleepless nights she might have expected, or the depth of the bond that this generated. She had no idea of the worthlessness of language to explain why HER baby's cry tore her soul if she did not respond, while those whose cries had fallen on untortured hearing in times past, now tortured her differently - where was this baby's _real_ mother? She wasn't pregnant, and the immediate loss of all the promised joy of that potential hit her in a rush... it would have been easier to be angry at him just for answering the question. She turned her soulful gaze upon his twin fires of caring and concern, and admitted "I love you anyway, Sam."
He couldn't know what she had just experienced, and stumbled predictably. Despite his lack of empathy, her words had warned him, and his love of her was not unlike a deeply flowing current in a quiet part of a river elsewhere furious with rapids. He returned her scrutiny perplexedly... "I love you too." He stopped, and let silence be eloquent in his stead. He knew it was important, but not exactly why or what to say. She dissolved into tears quietly, and he could only think: the charted course to stupid questions lies on the other side of the door way marked "Why are you crying?" He pondered the comment "Want to talk about it?" in silence. She cried, and he cared... it was enough.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Applied Security;
Travis had given up using the Kawasaki unilaterally, and followed Bubba to the bowling alley in his pickup. Bubba was fond of watching the difficulty bowlers had in knocking over ALL the pins in a strike. He said it made him feel better when people looked up "Fat Man and Little Boy," in Brittanica. He himself rarely broke 100, but Travis had seen him complete a game with double strikes once, and stuck up for him whenever it came up that Bubba "couldn't bowl."
Bubba sniffed the anti-fungal shoe spray like a perfume as they walked up to their lane. "Bubba," Travis opened, "Ursula asked me a question I haven't had a conversation about. Given the five food groups, how do you pick the strongest password?"
Bubba keyed in the necessary data to keep score, and doffed his hat. "I guess to figure out how _strong_ a password is, I'd have to want to break into something," he answered. "One of your early improvements is to choose an opening character that puts the whole sequence away from beginning and end. By that I mean, if my key space is between 1 and 100, pick 30s to 80s... the cracker is either going to start at 1 and count up, or 100 and count down. Other than that, it's probably important to 'keep the defense honest.'" The game was progressing slowly, but without Beer it at least progressed some.
"Who's the defense, and what kind of... you mean like football?" Travis inquired. Bubba grinned. "Yep: Remember back when Jimmy Johnson's Cowboys had Michael Irving on one side and Alvin Harper on the other for wide receivers? The commentators all used to say 'all Troy has to do is throw it up there, and _somebody_ will come down with it?' Well, the fact of the matter is, that whenever the team had a long field, 60 to 80 yards, the offense would haul off and throw a long bomb early, willy nilly. The defense of the opposing team could never relax and say 'it's a running down.'" Travis took a moment to bowl a frame, and then replied wryly, "Makes sense if you're going to script the first half anyway. But can you bring it back and relate it _specifically_ to the problem of passwords now?"
Bubba knew that a little more football would not go amiss, and fleshed it out before explaining. "You script the first half for two reasons. 1. You can't get emotionally involved in outsmarting the opponent, and outsmart yourself that way. 2. If you take good notes, and observe how the opponent reacts to your enforced variety, you learn more about him than he wants you to, and that's the blood and guts of your second half strategy. Now then, about passwords..."
"If _I_ was cracking a password, I would HAVE to consider starting in the middle, just like tic-tac-toe. But if I _did_, would I count upwards, or downwards? To have a good order, it _still_ makes sense to start from one end or the other. The best way _I_ know to 'keep the defense honest,' is to use more than the minimum of a given food group. If you make a RULE that you ALWAYS use three numbers in EVERY password, then ALL passwords with only one or two numbers in them are 'off the menu.' The most convenient use of the fifth food group is also an excellent way to make a cracker's Coventry perdition; use it as the initial character. Just remember to mix it up with more than one now and then." Bubba paused, and decided that if there was more that needed to be said, Travis would have to bring it to his attention. As they finished the game, Travis teased him that he'd make a better motley, if his tennis shoes didn't match - they were incongruous with a Stetson!
"Just for that, I'm charging you Pizza for my explanation. It was raining locally when I left, and my Ball Cap was drip drying from the washer. You KNOW I wash them instead of worshiping the emblems!" It was Travis' turn to grin. "you get Supreme when the time comes... sausage is for Mussolini! Thanks for the conversation. See ya later?" "Sure thing," he spoke in answer. "Take care."
Bubba sniffed the anti-fungal shoe spray like a perfume as they walked up to their lane. "Bubba," Travis opened, "Ursula asked me a question I haven't had a conversation about. Given the five food groups, how do you pick the strongest password?"
Bubba keyed in the necessary data to keep score, and doffed his hat. "I guess to figure out how _strong_ a password is, I'd have to want to break into something," he answered. "One of your early improvements is to choose an opening character that puts the whole sequence away from beginning and end. By that I mean, if my key space is between 1 and 100, pick 30s to 80s... the cracker is either going to start at 1 and count up, or 100 and count down. Other than that, it's probably important to 'keep the defense honest.'" The game was progressing slowly, but without Beer it at least progressed some.
"Who's the defense, and what kind of... you mean like football?" Travis inquired. Bubba grinned. "Yep: Remember back when Jimmy Johnson's Cowboys had Michael Irving on one side and Alvin Harper on the other for wide receivers? The commentators all used to say 'all Troy has to do is throw it up there, and _somebody_ will come down with it?' Well, the fact of the matter is, that whenever the team had a long field, 60 to 80 yards, the offense would haul off and throw a long bomb early, willy nilly. The defense of the opposing team could never relax and say 'it's a running down.'" Travis took a moment to bowl a frame, and then replied wryly, "Makes sense if you're going to script the first half anyway. But can you bring it back and relate it _specifically_ to the problem of passwords now?"
Bubba knew that a little more football would not go amiss, and fleshed it out before explaining. "You script the first half for two reasons. 1. You can't get emotionally involved in outsmarting the opponent, and outsmart yourself that way. 2. If you take good notes, and observe how the opponent reacts to your enforced variety, you learn more about him than he wants you to, and that's the blood and guts of your second half strategy. Now then, about passwords..."
"If _I_ was cracking a password, I would HAVE to consider starting in the middle, just like tic-tac-toe. But if I _did_, would I count upwards, or downwards? To have a good order, it _still_ makes sense to start from one end or the other. The best way _I_ know to 'keep the defense honest,' is to use more than the minimum of a given food group. If you make a RULE that you ALWAYS use three numbers in EVERY password, then ALL passwords with only one or two numbers in them are 'off the menu.' The most convenient use of the fifth food group is also an excellent way to make a cracker's Coventry perdition; use it as the initial character. Just remember to mix it up with more than one now and then." Bubba paused, and decided that if there was more that needed to be said, Travis would have to bring it to his attention. As they finished the game, Travis teased him that he'd make a better motley, if his tennis shoes didn't match - they were incongruous with a Stetson!
"Just for that, I'm charging you Pizza for my explanation. It was raining locally when I left, and my Ball Cap was drip drying from the washer. You KNOW I wash them instead of worshiping the emblems!" It was Travis' turn to grin. "you get Supreme when the time comes... sausage is for Mussolini! Thanks for the conversation. See ya later?" "Sure thing," he spoke in answer. "Take care."
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