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In an effort to keep every stray thought I have from cropping up in the column, I'm starting this online journal. Much like a pressure valve that keeps tanks of stuff from exploding, this will be the spicket to my head. For the chronological view, read from the bottom up. All spelling, grammar and punctuation mistakes, by the way, are there for effect.

And we're off!

April - March

May, 2002

May 27, 2002

Wow! It's been a while since I've added anything to this journal. Hmm. I'll have to be more careful in the future. And, sure, I could add stuff and backdate it, but I'm nothing if not honest.

Let's see. It's been a busy week here on Daviswalker Ranch. Big news is that I'm going back to the New Albany Tribune, as the new Associate Editor. If I hadn't lost my sense of irony a couple of years ago, I'm sure I'd find it very ironic that I'm going back to the place where I started my journalism career, if that doesn't stretch the term "career" too far. It damn near killed me the first time, and I always swore I'd never go back. The people who damn near killed me are no longer with the paper, though, so I think I can find a loophole in my oath never to go back. It was never the job that I minded, it was the politics. And by "politics," I mean mind games, stabs in the back, and all sorts of badness that shouldn't go on in the workplace. There's still the pesky asbestos problem with the building, but as long as I don't go tearing any walls out, I should be okay.

I'm going to get my car fixed tomorrow. I've had a minor oil leak that's turning major very quickly. I asked how much it would be on my last visit to Mr. Mechanic, and got a quote of "$100 to $500, depending on where it is." I'm not hopeful for the low bid, as that would go against my whole "the world is out to get me" attitude I've been so careful to cultivate.

The reason I hope it's a cheap repair, besides the fact that expensive repairs suck, is that I got my check from the insurance company on that power surge that turned some of my computer equipment into boat anchors. Eventually, all the money will sort itself out and I'll have a fully-functional, and environmentally friendly car and a fully-functional computer system. I want both now, though. My inner child is pitching a fit. Well, this time tomorrow I should know something. Fingers crossed.

May 17, 2002

"The X-Files" is going to end this weekend, two years too late to preserve any dignity, but it's still a little bittersweet. I'm probably going to write my column on this topic (gee, will I be able to find any websites about the show?), but I'm going to jot down my thoughts here first.

The show was great in its prime. It captured your attention and told a decent story. It had depth, it had characters you could care about, and it was imaginative. It had one of the best five year runs in television history. Unfortunately, it lasted nine years.

One of the things that really makes me mad is that the creators and writers so gleefully broke the implicit contract between the storyteller and the audience. When you tell a story, you set up the rules of the world you create. From realistic to deepest fantasy, it doesn't matter what the rules are. When you set it up, you have to remain true to it. If a spacecraft had come down to zap Hannibal Lecter in the final reel of "Silence of the Lambs" the movie, as good as it was, would have suddenly sucked. "The X-Files" has repeatedly violated this contract.

The story has become so convoluted that I'm pretty sure that the writers are just making stuff up off the top of their heads, continuity be damned. The point that made me stop watching was at the end of the last season when Scully's baby was born, even though she was supposed to be sterile. That's fine. Good mystery. At the end of the show, Mulder and Scully, who made big, big news when they actually kissed once, stood holding the baby. One of them remarks how much of a miracle the baby is. The whole season, one of the main mysteries was how she actually got pregnant. Mulder then, as the last line of the season, casually throws out that maybe it was the night they slept together. That was a long 8-year-run for a very, very short slide, and a nice middle finger to the audience. I don't think I've watched an entire episode since.

I'll watch the last one, and fully expect to be lost from the first frame to the final shot. Some of the loose ends might get tied up, but more questions will be raised than answered (and, I think the whole thing as sprawled out to the point that there really aren't any answers), the stage will be set for a movie or two, and the dead horse will be flogged a couple of more times. Loving "The X-Files" is like being in a relationship with an alcoholic. You remember the good times in the past, but the reality is that it's going to be one disappointment after another until you finally get fed up and walk away.

May 16, 2002

I must say, the movie rocked. "Attack of the Clones" beat "The Phantom Menace" (why, oh why won't Lucas let someone else name the films?) like a dirty rug. It was remarkably Jar-Jar free (and in one of his only scenes, he screws up and basically creates the Empire). The effects were awesome, the acting was as good as it really needed to be, and Yoda kicked ass. I told people that I was going to take photos of the people dressed up, and that provided the only real letdown of the evening - a lack of people sufficiently geeky to really dress up. I saw not one Fett, Boba or Jango, in the crowd. There were a couple of people dressed up, but they were so spread out that I didn't want to go up and say "Can I take your picture?" If it was a crowd, cool. If it's one person, it's kind of creepy. So, I took a photo of my friend Brian, above, who cared enough to bring his lightsaber (the only fully-functional one in the Kentuckiana area, I might add).

It makes me a little sad that I'll only see one more "Star Wars" film for the first time, assuming I or the world doesn't end until 2005, but Brian, Ben, Ben's friend Steve, and I had a blast.

And, I might add, we got to see the first showing with a minimum of fuss and bother. We didn't wait in line for months like these two bozos. Gad, get a job, you wankers.

May 15, 2002

New column today about the overuse of the tornado warning. While I fully expect to get hate mail for calling the people in this area, basically, a bunch of wussies for getting all terrified everytime a dark cloud comes close to the area, I know that I'll get zilch in response. Call a creepy guy creepy, though, and suddenly I'm a Nazi KKK supporter or something. Sorry, old wound. I'll be quiet now.

May 13, 2002

I saw the Woman That Marketing Forgot today at Target.

I was going past the aisle where the "Star Wars" toys are, and overheard a woman say the following to her young son:

"I don't recognize these. Is there a new movie coming out or something?"

I don't think she was teasing her son, because she sounded genuinely surprised. Now, I realize that I'm plugged into pop culture a little more firmly than most, but how on God's green earth do you miss the 2,000 pound elephant in the room that is "Star Wars?" Part of me just wanted to talk to her and ask her how she pulled it off, but decided against it. She might not know who Luke's father is, and I didn't want to ruin it.

May 10, 2002

Guh. Whatta week. I've figured out that a downside of working at your house is that when things are going bad in your business, you don't want to go home.

I experienced my first lightening strike / power surge this week, at the expense of my printer, computer-attached VCR, motherboard and processor, modem, power supply and mental well-being.

It could have been worse, I suppose. The surge protectors saved the iMac and most of the gadgets connected, but the PC didn't fare as well. I'm fortunate that I had enough spare parts to cobble together another box, and that the hard drives weren't scragged. The downside is that my 1.2 MHz machine is now a 600 and that my twin monitor display is now blind on one side. Renters insurance, I've discovered, will pay for most of it, but I have to take the stuff someplace and get an estimate on repair. I can give them a quick estimate: It's fried. Can't be repaired. Hell, I'll even put it in writing.

Instead of having a clean, tidy house (as was my plan), I now have computer wires, cards and various parts and pieces strewn across the landscape like some post-apocalyptic computer store. Oh, well. They say that a person's house is a reflection of their inner selves, and things are about right, as far as that goes.

May 8, 2002

New column today, all about doom. Lots and lots of doom. And not the fun, shoot-em-up game, either. My journey towards becoming Eeyore will soon be complete.

May 3, 2002

Well, the greatest two minutes in sports is in the book for another year, and Louisville and its surrounding areas can quit pretending that this is a horse racing town. For those not in this area, the Kentucky Derby is basically an excuse for two weeks of partying, amateur handicapping and rich women to wear stupid hats and invite celebrities who would never set foot in Louisville normally to come to the overblown parties they are throwing. The news carries horse racing results, which is a practice that stops soon after the big 'do.

It's not that I'm bagging on the area. I really do love it here. I just find it amusing that Louisville is held up as a horse-racing town. The other side of Churchill Downs, a neighborhood, is about as un-pastorial as it gets. Lexington is actually in horse-racing country. Keenland is in the middle of a big pretty field with horse farms all around. Oh, well. I enjoy a two-week party as much as the next guy. Now, if I can get invited to one of the overblown parties....

And, by the way, Spider-Man rocked! They actually did justice to the orginial story and made a really cool movie. I'm so relieved.

May 2, 2002

I had a most annoying experience today. I was coming back home on the expressway when I came upon a traffic jam. I heard on the radio that there had been an accident about two miles up, and had things mighty snarled. That wasn't the annoying thing. The people involved in the accident were having a much worse time than me.

The annoying thing was that my car's temperature gauge started to climb. It usually sticks at halfway between "H' and "C," but I noticed that it was edging up ominously. It was quite a powerless feeling, stuck in traffic, helplessly watching the needle going up, up, up. About all I could do was stare at it intensely and try to use the powers of my mind to keep it down. That really didn't work. Maybe my mental powers are more telepathic in nature.

When it hit "H" I pulled over on the shoulder and shut down. I decided to wait until the traffic broke up and make a dash for home. After about an hour, I noticed that the traffic was moving a little better, so I went for it. As long as I was moving, and keeping air going over the engine, it seemed to be fine. I made it home, breathed a sigh of relief, and let it sit for a while. I went back to check the coolant level and noticed that it was low. I also realized that I couldn't remember when the last time I checked it was. So, feeling kinda dumb, I'm figuring that's what the problem was.