Tuesday Feb 26, 2008


 It seems I struck a nerve with my ham fisted blog yesterday. I have been accused to which I respond:  

I am Dan.
Dan I am.
I did not take your ham.
I would not take your ham

I would not take it from your house.
I would not take it with a mouse.
Not with a box, not with a fox.
I would not take it here or there.
I would not take it anywhere.

I would not, could not, in a car.
I did not take it in a tree.
You let me be.

I would not, could not take your ham.
Not in the dark, not for a lark. I did not take your ham I say.

And, like the great movie "The Silence of the Hams" where Dr. Lector advises Clarice on how to locate the the culprit: 

 "What does he do, Pat? He COVETS. Do we seek out things to covet? We begin by coveting what we see everyday." Look closer to home for the shifty eyed ham wrangler.

Plus I have an alibi...

Keeping track of your ham...

It has, on occasion, been said that a director and her ham are soon parted. Additionally, one should stand by your ham, and a ham on the desk is worth two that can't be found any day. 

Little Bo-peep has lost her ham, And can't tell where to find it; Leave it alone, and it'll come home, And bring its tail behind it (hopefully on rye with a nice crunchy pickle and some cheddar cheese). 

Perhaps the ham is (even I blush at this a bit) on the lam?

If a ham isn't on a desk, does the ham exist? Is there a platonic state to the ham, and, if we are more enlightened, would it be visible?

A haiku:

Silent ham weeping
Contemplate; beauty of loss
When is the potluck?

Dr. Lecter: What became of your ham, Pat?
Clarice (Nee' Pat): They took him.
Dr. Lecter: You still wake up sometimes, don't you? You wake up in the dark and hear the screaming of the hams.

Sorry for the tedium of an inside joke folks, but, everyone has a little funny bone inside of them that is tickled by the silliest things. Mine is twanging away. Pat Hill, a director here at Sun, won a canned ham as part of a best "Mardi Gras" float contest. She was proudly displaying it until someone snatched the untethered booty and went on the lam with her ham. I like having fun at work (and writing sweet code and excellent engineering) and this made me laugh out loud.

Friday Nov 02, 2007

Baseball and paying your bets

'Twas the night before baseball
When all through the rockpile,
Not a batter was hitting, not even a Helton.

The baseballs were dried by the dugout with care
In the hopes that the big Papi would err.


The fans were nestled all snug in the their beds,
While visions of series wins danced in their heads.

Scott in his jersey and me in My Hockey Skates (what can I say)
Had just settled down for a cold one and a chat and a game we should play.

From my brain arose such a clatter:
Let's stir up the teams and bring out the Rockies chatter.

On Danny, On Danny my boss cheered lustily,
Away to the keyboard I flew with a flash.

I can talk baseball and Red Sox trash.
And so with gusto and emotion and clap

There arose such a spatter of baseball snap.
Twas not long before Nashua and Burlington rose to the challenge

Questions of character and characters a plenty.
Spikes we shall have, in varying colors chimed the team from Nashua

The matters of oysters and lobster rolls stuffed in cake holes was hurled in defiance.
"Man up" and are we playing little league or series ball was tossed with a snarl.

Oh somewhere in the favored land the sun is shining bright
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light.

And somewhere men are laughing and little children shout;
But there is no joy on Blake Street -- the Mighty Rocks have struck out.

Once upon a Friday dreary, I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

Arose two children with their cans of Red,
'twas time to pay the piper they said.

And so, as my younger daughter has exclaimed,
"Daddy, we love the Red..."

With apologies to, Edgar Allen Poe, Ernest Thayer, and Clement Clark Moore

Thursday Jan 18, 2007

Blind spots

I negotiate multi-million dollar deals with large companies fairly regularly (well, I help. We have a team that does this). I am comfortable with setting goals for my team and my organizations. I give direction almost every day and I help train very sophisticated engineers. I prefer to help my staff make their own decisions and guide rather than mandate.  That being said, I have my blind spots.

 Yesterday I was listening to my 6 year old daughter argue about what she could wear. After my wife had enforced the law I opined "You know, maybe it is time to let her start purchasing her own clothing. When I was a child, my parents pretty much let me choose what I wanted after I was 6 or 7." My wife looked at me and said with nary a pause "And you think that was a good thing? You didn't have a girlfriend until you were 18."

My daughter will have to wait a while until she gets to choose what she wears.




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