Voenix Rising

No, I’m not talking about the wanking chimp. I’m talking about [certain members of] my department at work.

Because one of the techs quit a couple weeks ago and apparently they’re too cheap to replace him, those of us remaining are now forced to rotate up to the main corporate headquarters one day a week to cover the facility. Yeah, a real continuity of customer service there, let me tell you.

Yesterday was my day in the rotation, and despite my best efforts to get my ass out of there on time, I got bogged down with delivering a laptop to a user who—of course—needed a lot more installed than was originally spelled out. Adding insult to injury, this wasn’t an additional machine. No, it was replacing her desktop, so all her data had to be transferred as well. We’re on a strict “no overtime” policy, but I was caught in a situation where I had no choice. I had to stay and finish setting her up, otherwise she wouldn’t be able to do anything on her shift.

This pushed me over 8 hours by about twenty minutes, so I resolved today that I’d leave twenty minutes early, thus equaling everything out. While yesterday had been annoying, today was from the seventh level of Hell, and I was really looking forward to getting out of there even a little bit early.

I had just clocked out when my pager went off. FUCK! It was a priority one call from the Emergency Department. All their wireless PCs on wheels had lost connectivity. Reluctantly I walked back over to the ED and checked in with the guy who had called in the ticket. Then I verified that yes, all wireless connectivity was down. I called my boss, who conferenced me in with one of our networking guys. I explained the situation and he said, “Oh, that’s probably because Dave pulled all the wireless out of that hospital today.”

I was speechless. Our emergency department runs on wireless, and supposedly Dave knows that. Bedside registration is the ED’s life blood. I mean, what the fuck was he thinking? My boss—apparently just as dumbfounded as I was—told me to reassign the ticket to networking and go home. I said I would, said goodbye to both of them, and hung up.

Not thirty seconds later, in the middle of the ED while I’m trying to get my laptop logged in so I can finally acknowledge and reassign the call, the pager went off again. It’s our oh-so-on-the-ball help desk, telling me that I had a priority one call that I hadn’t responded to. Well DUH. I was packed up and literally in the parking lot on the way to my car when the initial page came in. I told her I thought it more prudent to go investigate the problem than actually acknowledge it in the tracking software, since that would mean going back downstairs, powering up my laptop and logging in, delaying my arrival at the site of the problem! Jeezus!

Call me a selfish rat bastard, but as I finally left the hospital—now well over 8 hours again—I turned the pager off. It was now officially after hours and if they needed a tech on site, that’s what the on-call guy is for. (And believe me, any of the other techs would do exactly the same thing, so I don’t feel the least bit guilty.)

Because we all need it.

From back in the day when MTV was something new and exciting. Hat tip to Adam for reminding me of this!

Both my partner and I had the hots for this fuzzy guy:

I shudder to think of what he looks like now.  Rock stars—even one two hit wonders like the guys of Men at Work—do not age gracefully.

OH. MY. GODS.

But WTF?!? No more until 2008?!?

“Imagine how different the world would be today if Barbara Bush had swallowed.”

From Paul Slansky at The Huffington Post:

The tone is, of course, set at the top—or, to put it less loftily, the fish rots from the head. Just as Richard M. Nixon’s innate deviousness defined and destroyed his presidency, so is George W. Bush’s innate cruelty—and the complementary vindictiveness of Cheney, Gonzales and Rove—defining and destroying his. That haunted, desperate look on Bush’s face Tuesday evening as he truculently announced his plans to hunker down and fight any subpoenas was the spitting image of his fellow Constitution-trasher Nixon’s sweaty mug during the last months of his presidency. It has long been apparent that Bush learned no lessons from Viet Nam, so it’s hardly surprising to see that he also learned nothing from Watergate.

His every public appearance from here on holds the potential for the kind of barking-mad meltdown that would lead his obituary.

A very loud, unattractive, mean-acting woman walks into Wal-Mart with her two kids in tow, screaming obscenities at them all the way through the entrance. She’s dressed in dirty jeans, a greasy t-shirt with holes in it and wearing flip-flops exposing her cracked and filthy toenails. When she yells at the kids, she exposes her yellowed, crooked teeth with more than a few missing.

The Wal-Mart greeter says, “Good morning and welcome to Wal-Mart. Nice children you’ve got there. Are they twins?”

The ugly woman stops screaming long enough to say, “Hell no, they ain’t! The oldest one, he’s nine and the younger one, she’s seven. Why the Hell would you think they’re twins? Do you really think they look alike?”

“No,” replies the greeter, “I just couldn’t believe you got laid twice.”

“After telling a bunch of different stories about why they fired the U.S. Attorneys, the Bush administration is not entitled to the benefit of the doubt.” - Senator Harry Reid (D - Testicles)

From WTF is it Now?

Committee chairman (Waxman, Leahy, whoEVER as long as its a bulldog with an oversight mentality): Good morning, Mr. President.

President Bush: ‘Mornin’.

CC:: I’d like to start off by saying that I have the greatest respect for the office of the presidency.

PB:: Thank you.

CC:: But that’s the office of the presidency. It isn’t you personally, you war-crime-committin’, justice-obstructin’, rich-feedin’, poor-screwin’, profiteerin’ little SHIT.

PB: (Standing as if to fight): You’d better watch your language –

CC:: Sit down and shut up. I am beyond sick and tired of papering over CRIMES with calls for civility. That shit is over. Now, then, to our request. Let me explain this in terms even you can understand: You have nothing in your hand, pardner. NOTHING. YOU are not the Deciderer. You don’t get to decide who comes to testify; my committee does, and we’ve already got quite the list.

You don’t get a vote.

You don’t get to decide whether the testimony is public or private; I can tell you right fucking now it will be in the open and if C-SPAN isn’t there they’re really going to be missing a trick.

You don’t get to decide whether the testimony will be under oath or not; IT. WILL. BE.

And one other thing: If I have the slightest problem getting the documents or people that my committee has decided we need, we’re going to shove so many subpoenas up your ass that your nose will look like a Kleenex dispenser. And if your people don’t respond, they can expect deputy U.S. marshals with GUNS to come and drag them in. (Looks to other committee members.) We’re done here. (Turns to leave.) Oh, one last thing: If you had half the respect for the office of the presidency that I do, you’d have resigned a long time ago. (Exeunt.)