Where’s My Money, BP?

don’t watch it often enough, that zany MTV program–Boiling
–in which unsuspecting victims are taunted (in front of a hidden
camera) by actors whose idiocy is meant to induce fits of rage–spitting,
fuming, cursing rage.  If the victim clings to
rationality/patience/kindness long enough, s.he wins a hundred bucks.  I
think that’s how it goes, anyway.  Every once in a while I imagine I must
be on the program, like somebody’s trying to frustrate me and taping the whole

On TV lots of folks lose at the game; they rupture temperamentally, letting
loose the accumulating vitriol, venting.  I like to believe I could win the
prize money, that I could sweat through twenty minutes of somebody’s bull-crap
antics instigating me to fury.  It’s that little hopeful half-lie I tell
myself when I’m particularly short-tempered.  Sometimes I’m great at
refraining, breathing deeply, etc.; other times, less so.

Take today for example.  I’ll leave the personal/family factors aside
(they’re just small pinches, fast-fading stings–all for which I’m thinking of

M.’s twist-tie technique


).  A whole bunch of day-ruining crap-o-la starts caking up. 
Now I’m going to have to switch into a certain necessary fuzziness–a cryptic
gloss to cover the trails of this certain set of irritations. 

One has to do with systematically broken links.  Um…links matter?
No. two: content locking.  Here, in MD5 format, is what I think about
locking: 52FB604B42D39836C4A2179A73CF2A82.  And that’s putting it nicely. 
Unconditional locking (imho)=distrust.
Three: Customer service phone trees with thousand
ten-thousand-forked branches.  And! at the end of the last branch. 
Leave a message. 
4.1. A "solution": When dealing with locked content, delete it, then add a new
module and paste in the edited contents.

Me?  I’m trying to keep it together, practice my own little satyagraha
of the everyday variety.  Voice inside is telling I probably should lay off
with this before I wind up getting reprimanded for being vaguely critical. 
It’s just that I’m almost certain somebody’s going to reveal the whole gag any
time now, pull out a hundred bucks, and make my day bright again.  Any
slow-passing minute.

Meanwhile, I should go back to writing entries on genre theory.


  1. ah, yes. satyagraha. love it!

    hey, can you name the band from the late 80s that played a song called satyagraha? the album title = soul force one. I can’t remember it… and google is giving nothing up.


    the bread tie works. I swear. doesn’t do much for memory, though.

  2. Hmm. I don’t know the song. Haven’t tried the bread ties yet, but it sounds like a good option–better than jamming a pencil in my eyeball, anyway.

  3. D, if writing entries on genre theory is your therapy, you need to take a few days away from the shop. At the very least, up your court time to at least 2 days a week. We don’t need our 760 go-to-guy going all “Falling Down” on us.

  4. That’s the problem, Mike. There is no “away from the shop.” But yeah, upping my court time sounds like a good suggestion. I’m needing a new pair of kicks and an ankle brace. Once I have those, I’ll be more inclined to get them broken in. Plus hoops has always been a great release for me. Nothing about teaching online follows me onto the court.

Comments are closed.