Knowing CP is like having your own private help desk, with the one difference that he’s in the USA and he knows what he’s talking about. Two differences, he’s in the USA and he knows what he’s talking about and he’s always one step ahead of me. Three differences, but then again, you probably already know all your Monty Python, so I’ll stop now.
As for the non-seen drive connected to Little Elvis, that’s because it’s formatted for Windows. I should have figured that out. Windows can’t see Mac drives without a lot of sturm und drang, or at least they couldn’t once upon a time, whereas the Mac can see anything. So, either reformat or set up a special connection. I think I’ll just copy out the important data and reformat; easier in the long run. It is an old, mostly pointless (and small) drive, after all, that should be dying soon. Then he pointed me to a working beta of Cyberduck, so I can now upload obscenely large files to my site host again; all I need are some obscenely large files. I also have an old version of a program I actually paid for, Captain FTP, but for some reason I prefer Cyberduck. Go figure. How much FTPing do I do in a given life cycle, after all? On top of all of that, I updated Flash and installed Rosetta, and Bigger Elvis seems to be none the worse for wear, although I didn’t test too much last night because I was playing around with the Windows drive thing.
Oh, yeah. I helped someone buy a 15-incher yesterday. Last day of the school discount. I still prefer 13 inches, but that’s just me. CP suggests that Bigger Elvis is a bad name. But Old Fat Elvis seems wrong. Vegas Elvis? Burning Love Elvis? “Hunka hunka burnin’ love.” Hunka Elvis? Hunky Elvis? Honky Elvis?
This is getting us nowhere. Hunka hunka burnin’ love. In my younger days, at a previous DJ, I edited an Elvis book, and we actually threw an Elvis Expo (he died between the planning and the event, as it turned out). We had, on display, the Burnin’ Love jumpsuit, complete with sweating mannequin. Rather remarkable, and quite the attraction. While I was helping unload a truck prior to the expo because the truck unloaders were nowhere around, some person who had been trying to sell me a book of color-your-own mandalas happened to walk by and sympathized with me over my demotion from editor to truck unloader. I accepted her sympathy, the alternative being that I’d probably have had to publish her collection of color-your-own mandalas.
I’ve got a million stories about the old days. Ask me some time.
More germane to the business of debate, CP has laid claim to the control of the signups for the Pups. The thing is, via tabroom.com, one sets a field limit, and then there’s a waitlist. Control of the waitlist, if a tournament is hotly desired, is rather fun. At something like the Pups, control assures that no one school gets a bazillion slots when another school gets none. And people who need to get plane tickets get to know they’ll have slots. Anyhow, with Chris doing that, I don’t have to think about it, and that’s a good thing. I feel that, as far as the Sailors are concerned, my entry is set and the motel is set and the transportation is set, and there you are, except I will read the invitation again one more time to insure I’ve got everything under control. I think we’re back on Friday registering at LC, the building in the middle of the campus that’s central to everything, rather than some backwater over in the corner as we were last year, running debate tab out of a closet somewhere. I usually insist on a men’s room at the very least! LC is nice because we get comfy chairs and JV can run over and yell at everybody without having to exert himself too much. The perfect way to kick off the season.
And as the most organized person I know, watching O’C corral the instructors for the MHLW has been, oh, shall we say, painful. He’s lined up quite a crew (eat your heart out, Camp WTFaMucka), but it’s by the skin of his teeth. On the positive side, he keeps sending me apologetic emails claiming that he owes me for this. He does. Makes me feel like Don Corleone, you know? Some day I will ask of him a favor…
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