Comments

I have nothing to say yet. I reported on the trip, a little bit, and I'll probably come up with more eventually, now that I have a machine on which to type again, but at the moment I'm still just reorienting myself into the real world (i.e., the job that pays the bills). I have only dipped the proverbial toe into the vast ocean of non-work emails, so there's no news there yet.

But I do have a small issue. We have after every entry in this blog an option for members of the VCA to enter their comments. This is becoming progressively a more disquieting arena of discourse. I mean, I have no idea who people are most of the time, nor what they are talking about. Normally this wouldn't bother me, but in my jet-lag battered mental state I begin to wonder what, exactly, these lunatics are trying to say, and if it's worth the effort to hire a P.I. to track a few of them down and issue sobriety tests. If you feel like entering a comment, would it kill you to put your name on it? You don't see the Honorable O'C hiding behind a veil of anonymity. And if you don't want to put your name on it, then at least make it comprehensible. For instance, the minds of most people ruminating over Nietzsche do not normally reroute into the area of hardware engineering. Try to stick with the program. If my post is about Nietzsche, is there no expectation that your comment to the post would also be about Nietzsche? And if you are going to respond to something specific with a general reply -- e.g., I write at great length on the whiteness of the whale, and you reply "Woot woot" -- could you at least specify, "In regards to your feeling that the whiteness of the whale is an ironic attempt by Melville to criticize his book before the reader can, I must reply, 'Woot woot.' " This would enable me to more precisely understand what has so deeply affected you that you feel you must take electrons in hand and pen a response. Otherwise your comment is like the wrong half of a knock-knock joke, and I am at a loss to know why or why not, exactly, we are or are not on the same wavelength. Or if we are. Or are not.

Okay. Enough. I haven't even looked at WTF yet since I've returned, so you know that I am far from my normal bilious, exegetical self (i.e., the self that likes to find words you have no choice but to look up), and I need a few more days to catch up.

Woot woot.