Colby’s Thoughts

After scouring the web finding all kinds of “reasons” why I was getting this error and trying all kinds of solutions primarily dealing with .vimrc and .bash_profile configuration changes (including re-setting environment variables — NONE of which helped in my situation), I finally found a VERY simple solution.  Too bad it isn’t commonly referred to on the ‘net.  Basically it involves simply creating a text file of your crontabs and then “installing” them (the cron jobs that you want to schedule) to your crontab each time you update the text file.

If you have existing jobs scheduled, simply type the following in Terminal.app

crontab -l > crontab.txt

This will provide you with an editable list of your current cron jobs.  Then simply edit your “crontab.txt” file to make the changes you want.  If you didn’t already have existing jobs scheduled, create a new text file with an easy name like “crontab.txt”.  To install the modified “crontab.txt” file as your new crontab, simply type the following in Terminal.app

crontab crontab.txt

Special thanks to ThegGeekStuff.com’s point #15 on crontab use.  I didn’t find this information anywhere else.

Computer Science, Mac OS X 10.4

Today, the coolest thing happened.  I smashed my finger into the door!  Now, I know you are probably scratching your head on this one, but hang in there with me.  To add insult to injury (literally), someone is probably thinking “into” the door, what does he mean by that?

To explain, as I was walking up to the door of the house, something slipped out of my grasp.  I went to catch it with my other hand and in the process, went a little overboard and jammed the tip of my finger into the door.  Not the most insidious of afflictions, I’ll admit, but it made the end of my finger go numb and it felt like the nerve was affected.

My wife and son were in the house waiting for my return.  So, I thought I’d ask him to pray for my finger.  In my experience, the faith of a child is powerful.  However, in the past, when we have asked him to pray for something or to say grace at the dinner table, he always bowed his head and closed his eyes and then began to move his mouth but there was nothing audible.

Today, however, he spoke this simple prayer:

Please heal daddy’s finger, in Jesus name, amen.

That was, to me, a wondrous thing.  That day, my finger was healed.  God is good!  And I am blessed by my own son!

Life

Who needs a comedy channel when you have children?

A while ago, someone was asking my son his age.

Curious Person:  ”How old are you?”

Son:  ”Two and a half.  Almost three.”

C.P.:  ”And what happens when you turn three?”

Son:  ”I’ll be older.”

Then, yesterday, I was at the Post Office with him.

Postal Clerk:  ”How old are you?”

Son:  ”Two and three quarters.”

Clerk:  ”Wow, you must be pretty smart — already using fractions!”

Where does he come up with this stuff?

Humor, Life

Kids are a laugh and my son is no exception!  Yesterday, the 15th, he broke his routine which provided me with both a bit of a shock and a chuckle.

For many months now, when I’ve been carrying him long enough that he wants to get down, The following conversation takes place:

Son:  ”Daddy, can I get down?”

Daddy:  ”Son, please ask properly.”

Son:  ”Daddy, may I please get down?”

Daddy:  ”Yes you may.  Would you like to get down on the count of seven?” (I usually insert some random number between 1 and 10 here).

Son:  ”Count eight!”  (This has always been eight since we started this little ritual many months ago).

Then I gently raise him up and lower him as we count using increasingly larger movements until that final number (eight) finds him held way above my head often with his back touching the ceiling.  Then I lower him to the floor while saying “Whee” until he is again supported by his own two feet.

Now, apparently, my son is a creature of habit.  As I mentioned, the number he choses is always eight.  However, yesterday, he actually said “Count three”.  But, then as if engaged in some tremendous internal conflict, he immediately changed his mind and said “Count four” which he said twice.

I paused for a moment, flabbergasted.  We go through this little routine several times a day and he has never chosen anything but eight.  And when he makes the selection, he only says it once.  Was he feeling okay?

My concerns were put to rest and we were able to cancel the appointment with the pediatrician when, later in the day, it was again time for our little ritual.  This time, his reply, “Count eight”.  Again, all was right in the world.  A major catastrophe was averted.  There was no deviation from the rut so great that we could not, once again, fall into it.

The real question is — who’s the creature of habit?  Him or me?

I love that child!  He is my absolute favorite firstborn son!

And don’t you just love the word “flabbergasted”?  I don’t think it gets nearly enough airplay.  I’m doing my part to remedy that.  Will you help?

Humor, Life

crocs with socs™

Have you ever worn a pair of crocs?  Many people feel that crocs are hideous shoes that should never have been invented.

A friend of mine is quite the shoe collector and is actually straight.  When he got a pair several years ago, he made it a point to mention how comfortable they were.  I filed this away for future reference as I think far too many shoes are far too uncomfortable.

Fast forward several years to Thanksgiving 2008.  There was a new outlet mall in the area that was having some crazy sale for which they were opening at midnight — as if 6am on Black Friday isn’t early enough!

My wife opted to go check it out with friends.  I opted not.

This is one of myriad ways that I know my wife loves me.  She shops (often for me) while I sleep.  It is a wonderful form of multitasking!

She bought a pair of crocs for me to wear around the house.  We had just moved into our new home and after donating my spleen to have the carpets cleaned, we had decided to use different shoes for inside and outside of the house.  This is actually pretty common in many countries (I’m not referring to spleen donation).  Alternatively, some avoid wearing shoes in the home altogether.  In the states, either method is quite an adjustment.

I tried them on and though I was not impressed, my feet rallied and their combined votes overturned my personal preference.  I’m not sure, but I think the long “Ahhh…” uttered by my metatarsals was faintly audible.

Now, let’s examine for a moment “fashion”, which in itself, cracks me up (not crocs me up – follow along with me).  Fashion is kind of a funny thing in that it is actually defined as a “prevailing style” where prevailing means “frequently” or “continuously in use”.

So, the runway models that you see on these highfalutin “fashion” shows really don’t reflect “fashion” after all.  They are like the concept cars that one sees in a Detroit auto show.  They aren’t on the road and they certainly aren’t prevalent.  The clothes they wear are concepts that some designer thinks or hopes will bring them fame, fortune, or both.  I know, someone out there is going to say, “But you can actually buy those clothes – unlike the concept cars!”  Fine, you go right ahead.

What we see in the real world, is that crocs, though they may be ugly, are actually fashionable by definition because many people wear them.  Adding insult to injury, is the severe ugliness achieved when one wears socks (or socs™) with one’s crocs.

I’m actually quite open to this because I’m a “form follows function” kind of guy.  In Germany, I learned that socks with sandals provide what is often the perfect balance of “warmth with ventilation”, regardless of how ugly they may be (I’m not saying Germans are ugly — as I said, follow along with me).  After all, millions of people can’t be wrong, right?  Hmmm… perhaps I should skip the reference to the holocaust.

So, I came up with the phrase “crocs with socs™” which I effectively own.  I now receive a royalty for each time my trademarked phrase is used world-wide.  The appropriate sub-royalties are, of course, paid to the crocs company for that first word in the phrase which still belongs to them, per our negotiated contract.

In order to comply with the royalty structure, please be sure to click the PayPal link below in order to pay the appropriate fees each time you use the phrase “crocs with socs™”.  If the PayPal link is not displayed in your browser, please click the refresh button ad naseum until it appears so that you can be fully compliant.

Fashion, Humor

Tuesday afternoon, the 6th, my 2 year old son came to me and said, “ate, peanut cracker”. I really had no idea what he was referring to so I thought I would explore further. I’m thinking that he’s telling me that he ate some peanut butter crackers (which we don’t normally have in the house). It was possible, I thought.

After asking some questions and not really getting anywhere, I asked him to show me what he was talking about. “Okay, daddy”, he said. He hopped down of my lap, walked over to the Yamaha keyboard, climbed up onto the stool, and turned it on. After pressing the ‘Song’ button, I got to thinking that “ate” was actually “eight” so I dialed up number 8 on the keypad. Then he pressed the ‘play’ button and I chuckled as “Mirliton” (from the Nutcracker) began to play.

Isn’t it interesting how when we are predisposed to think in a certain way, we often cannot shift gears to see something from another perspective? This happens to me far too often. I heard “ate” instead of “eight” and when following it with other food words, it seemed logical to me. I was just completely wrong!

In all of what he said, he was only 3 letters off. It was just a simple “Pea” that derailed me. I guess there is something to be said for the importance of the story of “The Princess and the Pea” after all.

Life

A skeleton walks into a bar and says to the bartender…

“I’d like a beer… and a mop.”

Okay, I’ll quit with the jokes for now.

Humor

A grasshopper walks into a bar…

Bartender:  “You know, we serve a drink here named after you!”

Grasshopper: “Really?  You serve a drink here named ‘Stan’?”

Humor

This is my first fashion post.  Some of you have been eagerly anticipating it while others are running for cover.  Don’t roll your eyes just yet.

Remember, I’ve already said that I’m the dictator here and I’m an expert on all topics I write about (as far as you know).

Let me begin by defining a word (from Wiktionary)

fetter (plural fetters) n.

1. A chain or similar object used to bind a person or animal by its legs (usually in plural).
2. Anything that restricts or restrains in any way.

to fetter (transitive) v.

1. To shackle or bind up with fetters
2. To restrain or impede; to hamper.

Currently, the topic is baggy pants.  In many contexts, I subscribe to the principle that “form follows function“.  What this means is that something has to work properly first before you try to make it look nice.

This is where so many modern fashions fall short (or in this case, shorts fall, as in “to the ankles”).  If you cannot perform the normal functions that one encounters throughout the day, then why choose that style?  I submit that this is one of the reasons we don’t see many garments made from plates of tinted glass.  Yeah, that conjures up a bloody sight.  When new, they’d probably look pretty cool though!

I cannot even imagine trying to run in these baggy pants.  Have you ever heard of the phrase “caught with your pants down”?  People are out there right now being “caught with their pants down” on purpose.

Running and performing other routine tasks in these pants would be on par with wearing leg irons, otherwise known as fetters.

Supposedly, this trend in pants originated in the prisons.  Strange that people would want to imitate it in the free world.

There is a simple test that can be used to determine if a garment is acceptable.  I call it the “burger and soft drink test”, though you could also call it the “two limbs free test”.  Can one wear the garment and eat a burger while holding on to their soft drink?

Pants that require the coordinated use of at least 3 limbs are impractical.  Ever notice how the wearers of these fetter pants have to use one hand and a strange “hitch in my giddy-up” step in order to keep from fully exposing themselves?

Yes, leg iron pants (LIPs for short) just don’t cut the mustard.

Now, just in case you’re inclined to disagree with me, I’m warning you!  There is a “Fashion Police” and they agree with me.

Isn’t it interesting that a fashion that originated in the prisons is being imitated on the street and, in some cases, sending people to jail?

Fettered by one's own volition

Culture, Fashion

Jerry’s eyes burst open.  ”Not now!”, he shouted in his thoughts.  His rapid pulse and erratic breathing exposed him.  How would he escape?  Wanting to run, he surveyed his options.  None.

His opponent had a bead on him.  What could he do?  What did he want to do?  Mustering all that was within, he spoke sotto voce, “I love you too…”

———-

The story above is my first attempt at this exercise.  Are you up for the challenge?  Add your “60 word story” as a comment below.

I’ve never really been much for writing.  However, I always like to learn new things and expand my skills and knowledge.  I got this idea from Daily Writing Tips.  Perhaps it can benefit you too?

General