So I went over to my friend’s house today, and while I was there, he and another friend spent a considerable amount of time discussing the various details of their plans to acquire every Pokémon in the latest Pokémon game. They talked about how he had a Whoosher and he hard a hard time getting the Kiglebat and how he needed the Bellittlebox to make the Showlinxtre evolve. (Yeah I’m making that part up, but only because I can’t remember the details; this is the only point of mitigation that I can claim on this post.)
After that was over we whipped out ye many-years-old Yu-Gi-Oh card game decks, and not only did we have a crazy couple battles, one in which I cleaned up against the other players and one in which I barely pinched by on the wire, but we actually managed to show some semblance of remembering the rules!
What a handful of 20+ year old males have business doing either of those, I don’t know, even if it’s fun.
Don’t tell anyone we hoped to date, okay?
Image Copyright 2008 rbatina, some rights reserved
So last Friday the Unix Epoch reached 1234567890! This happened at 4:31 PM.
Of course, working in the programming department of a web development company, I was not the only person aware of this momentous occasion. We managed to rife up enough excitement that, by the time the final countdown began, we have the time stamp up on the projected warboard on the wall, with everyone was standing up watching it.
When the final countdown commenced, everyone counted down together. When we reached the sequential Epoch time, the time that has been printed on everyone’s keyboards for years past and to come, everyone cheered, my manager flashed the lights on and off, and I rang the gong a bunch.
This, coming from someone who slept through last New Years.
Let’s face it. I’m a geek.
So I was working on trying to get the extra mouse buttons on my Logitech G5 to work under Linux and I realized, after I had laid the issue to rest for the night, that I am really rather much of a nerd. The backscroll on my shell window (or, rather, a command I had earlier typed) contained something to this effect:
jon@JonX:/dev/input$ cat mice
And, after having typed it, I actually expected something useful to happen. Not only did something happen, but it happened just as i expected it to – with the exception of a couple of my buttons that didn’t send any data.
Anyhow, I thought that was rather random: Telling my computer to hand “mouse” to “cat” actually is a valid thing to do.
(For those that don’t waste their life away in front of a green and black [my preferred colors] terminal screen like I do, “cat” is a program, short for “concatenate”, which allows you to see or write to the contents of file(s) directly with the screen/keyboard. Also, on Linux, input/output devices have virtual “files” associated with them which, in essence, allow you to read and write directly to/from the device, such as a mouse. Hence “cat mice” will dump all the input form all the mice on the computer to your screen in the form of all sorts of funny heart shapes and strange glyphs.)
You know, I did a Google search for “Jon’s Ramblings”, what I’ve been calling my blog up ’till now, and was utterly surprised at how may other doofuses like me call their own blogs by the same name.
Now, let’s rewind a few days.
I was sitting on my bed, reading into the late hours of the night (or early hours of the morning, as the case my be). On the door to a self-like box I have on my wall, I have a picture of an LDS Temple (a concept render of the Draper Utah temple, in fact, which will open later this year).
As I finished my reading for the night and just as I closed my book, the picture, printed on glossy card stock and held in place with sticky-tack, happened to, at that very moment, relinquish its hold on the the surface, swing freely as it pivoted on upper-left corner, and fall on the ground. To which I thought: +10 Points: Random.
And – seeing as how I needed a new name for my blog, decided to try and see but not if that would stick.