I decided to splurge last week, and I bought a new computer. I was waffling on the decision for a long time, but was finally pushed over the edge by two things. First of all, Chris was also thinking about getting a new computer, and liked the model I was considering. More importantly, I had started to be presented with the following dialog box in Reason:

Computer too slow to play song. Man, the software company probably got a kickback from Intel for showing that dialog box. What self-respecting computer user can see it and not be shamed into an upgrade?

Fortunately, as I said I had a specific upgrade path in mind for a long time. Earlier in the year I had upgraded my monitor to a 17" LCD and my hard drive to 80GB. Last week, I rounded out the new system with the Shuttle SB51G, a combination case and motherboard that's small, quiet, and very very sexy. I tossed in new memory, CPU, and CD-R/RW. Compare if you dare:

The Shuttle box is part of a new trend in "Small Form Factor" PCs that have actual style. You could willingly place these computers on your desk rather than hiding them underneath. You're not sacrificing anything by buying this small machine. The only tradeoffs are that it's a little bit more expensive than a generic clone box, and there's not much room for add-ons. Fortunately, add-ons are mostly unnecessary -- just about everything you could want is already on the motherboard. Plus, note the front-mounted USB and Firewire ports. It's a simple idea that clone boxes just don't give you. There are other goodies in this system, but you're almost certainly asleep already so I'll stop.

I think I've explained that I'm now a professor at the same university where I spent my undergraduate years. Naturally, because I'm an alumnus, I still get letters from the university asking me to donate money to their many development funds and initiatives. I think it's understandable that I should have mixed feelings about making such a donation, seeing as how I'd simply be donating back to the university the money they paid me in the first place. It wouldn't be out of place to rephrase this as taking a voluntary pay cut to support my employer. In fact, it almost sounds reasonable when you put it this way. Ah, if only I could direct the funds to the "Professor Thingo travel expense and book buying fund"...

But wait, it gets weirder. I recently received a tax receipt for an old donation. In the envelope there was a flyer that said, "Our records indicate that you work for an employer that provides matching funds for charitable donations. Why not ask your company to match your donations to the university?"

Let's see if I got this straight. I donate my paycheck, which comes from the university, back to the university. In return, the university generously donates some of its own money back to itself rather than, um, keeping it. I'm trying, but I really can't find a way to impose a logical framework upon this process. I only hope they apply the same careful reasoning when it's time to evaluate me for tenure. I'll point them to my research on self-reference and their heads will explode.

My little girl is six months old today. Plus, she's still alive. Jeez, she's practically leaving for college.

Let's see... she can't stand or walk or talk or crawl. She's starting to sit up fairly well, though. She plays with toys now, rather than just holding them and wondering what they're for. She eats a couple of different solid foods, including avocado and banana. Oh, and did I mention that she's the cutest baby to ever walk upon (well, squirm upon) the earth? As my grandmother would say, "God love her!".

Well, I don't have any articulate things to say about the arrogant fool running the United States. For all his rhetoric about peace, he's the only one who's strutting around making declarations of war. In defiance of the UN security council, no less.

Before Bush plunges the world into chaos (wasn't I naïve to claim that even he couldn't destroy the earth in four years), I'd like to reflect upon the following quote of his which deserves far more repetition:

If we are an arrogant nation, they will resent us. If we're a humble nation, but strong, they'll welcome us.

That just about clinches it, doesn't it: Bush is the world's biggest hypocrite. I don't know. Maybe he was talking about some other nation. Thank goodness Canada has chosen to side with the United Nations on the question of armed conflict.

I'll close by directing you to a sign a friend of mine made for a peace demonstration in San Francisco. I think it eloquently sums up the approach the US is taking.

Witness the following exchange from yesterday evening:

In my mind, this is a simple, brilliant pun, just as puns should be. It reminds me of a riddle my brother made up many, many years ago: "What kinds of ties do pigs wear? Pigsties!". What amazes me most is that chicken stock is such a compelling pun, I don't know why I've never heard it before. Could it be that I didn't watch enough TV when I was younger?

Unfortunately, later in the evening I spent all my accumulated pun karma with the inevitable "Pudding on the Ritz". I'll spare you the context in which that abomination arose.

The Thingos have been enjoying a fair amount of late-night cribbage recently, usually a couple of games after Zebula goes to sleep but before the water has cooled enough to make her formula. Cribbage is a fun game, made up of a baroque hodgepodge of rules that on the whole balance each other out to make for an entertaining blend of luck and skill (and trashing your opponent). Really though, it's the ceremonial aspect of the game that I enjoy. It simply wouldn't do to put down your cards and say, "Let's see. I've got a pair of sevens, so that's two points. And a run for three more, Oh, and then two fifteens, so that's four points, and one more run for another three. Okay, I guess that's twelve points altogether." Your opponent would slap you silly. You are obligated to say, "Fifteen two, fifteen four, a pair is six, and six is twelve." Ah, that beautiful refrain.

I mention cribbage because I made an interesting observation the other day that I've never seen anywhere else. It's something that could potentially come in handy in an actual game. Quite simply, when it's your crib you're guaranteed to peg at least one point (we were discussing whether it would be possible to have a shutout in cribbage; this observation renders shutouts impossible). You have to either get a go for the last card, or a go from your opponent.

Anyway, I don't know if this is common knowledge everywhere outside the Thingo household, I just thought I'd share.