Typing the innumerable scientific names inevitably leaves me fatigued and frustrated.

A


fter work I went to Gallery Neo on 2nd Street and gave an HTML lesson to Fred Oesch, the founder of the Gallery. He's an architect these days. After an hour of that, I drove the Dodge Dart back to my childhood abode near Staunton, home of the Statler Brothers and birthplace of President Woodrow Wilson. I had some typing to give my Dad. He has me type his Appalachian biological survey reports, since I am the only one who can read his writing. Typing the innumerable scientific names inevitably leaves me fatigued and frustrated.

I took a long and restful nap in the Shaque and then ate dinner with the folks.

I've never been one of those simpering do-gooders contending we must feed the hungry and liberate the oppressed before we play in the backyard of the heavens.

M


y Dad, as could be expected, expressed a great deal of cynicism about the latest Mars expedition. It bears noting that he's a former NASA Venus specialist, geochemist & planetary geologist as well as amateur preservation biologist and radical environmentalist (tree hugger). He's disgusted by the obviously forced gushy enthusiasm of the NASA spokesmen and by how he feels the public is being misled by a bureaucracy desperate for funding. He says that he sees no evidence in the barren landscape of liquid water. The broken angular rocks look nothing like the water deposits with which he is familiar. But if money is ever to come rolling in, each trivial detail must be presented as an "amazing discovery."
I'm less cynical than my father, of course. I think the exploration of Mars is a refreshing use of my tax dollars. And as an ardent fan of gadgets, I like the idea of technologic spinoffs from the space program.
I've never been one of those simpering do-gooders contending we must feed the hungry and liberate the oppressed before we play in the backyard of the heavens.
My personal opinon about the hungry is that the less we feed them the fewer we end up having.
I'm not a politician nor am I'm trying to lay a hippie chick so I get to say such controversial truisms.

I gathered up lots of old vinyl records to take back to Kappa Mutha Fucka. These were mostly the early-70s classic rock interests of my adolescence: Pink Floyd, Moody Blues and Black Sabbath records, with a few others: ZZ Top, REM, Neil Young, The Cult, Frank Sinatra, Metallica, The Fixx, Blue Öyster Cult, Sibelius, Guns 'n' Roses, Stravinski, Led Zepplin, and some children's records.

As usual I drank a Red Hook on the drive back to Charlottesville.

I


  had some success installing cards in my Model 80 PS/2. I'm gradually becoming an expert on them. I read later on the Web, "people usually give away this model to anyone who asks." I got mine for free...

Monster Boy sat around listening to my ...And Justice for All by Metallica on vinyl. I hadn't heard that much of the album since 1990, when I played it over and over as I built the Shaque.

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