Author: AKMA

Remember that observation about “atypical pre-flight anxiety”? It turns out that not only did I forget my passport (the first time), but I also neglected to pack my black clergy shirts. I did bring my blue striped shirt (I want to assure Margaret) which I will wear this morning, but my black shirts are hanging in my bedroom where I had left them prominently where I’d be sure not to miss them.
 
My panel begins in a few minutes; I’m packing up my stuff and wandering down to the Brucknerhaus to set up my presentation. Here’s my hotel-room view of the Danube:
 

 
If you’re on European time, or an American insomniac, you can catch the webcast here. It’s an intensely professional set-up; I’d expect the stream will be very good. I mean, apart from what I’m actually saying.

I’ll bet Steve Martin could do a spooky imitation of John McCain.

And pretending to recognize more than one German word out of seven. It gives the presentation an evocative Dadaist tough: “Did he just say something was a sacrament? Oooh, he mentioned ‘authors’!”

After experiencing atypical pre-flight anxiety, after getting all the way to the check-in terminal and realizing that I’d left my passport at home, after hurrying back home and retrieving the passport, after very efficient passage through every security checkpoint, after spending the Dulles-Frankfurt leg sitting next to a jittery (but polite) neighbor whose twitching and elbowing ruled out good sleeping, after arriving at the charming little airport in Linz, I’m ensconced in my hotel and about to conk out before evening festivities.

I don’t like slime when it’s thrown by Democrats any more than when it’s thrown by Republicans, but this weekend Margaret and I had a frightening experience that Fred Thompson’s speech yesterday brought back to my mind. On Sunday, we ended up talking to somebody (it’s a long story) who warned us that Barack Obama had proposed legislation to the effect that parents could “abort” a baby for up to thirty days after birth. We expressed some skepticism, but the context made it clear that this was an occasion for pastoral concern, rather than forensics.
 
But when Fred Thompson suggests that Obama thinks that “protection of the unborn or a newly born baby is above his pay grade,” it sounds top me an awful lot as though there’s an unstated appeal to unconscionably vile allegations against Obama. I’d like to think that such rank, malicious falsehood were beneath the principles of Republicans, particularly those who promote themselves as “Christian” and “straight-talking” — but unfortunately, such Rovian tatics have worked for them before.

Since a multi-location migration this summer wasn’t enough of a challenge, I accepted an invitation to give a talk at the Ars Electronica Festival. I’ll be discussing (and, graphics willing, showing a Keynote slideshow) copyright, technological innovation, and church — but for now I’m working furiously on that talk, on my classes, on my familial responsibilities, and (of course) not forgetting my sisters and brothers in danger.

How come when you restore software — say, because you had your logic board replaced, or a hard drive fail — your registered applications frequently lose their sense that you actually paid for them, but your demo software remembers that your trial period has expired?

I’m glad that St.Patrick’s is set to break ground for their rebuilding project in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina — and I’m glad, for now, that they haven’t gotten much further. In case Gustav hits harder, and more directly, than anticipated, we’re keeping David and his family and Long Beach in our prayers.
 
And all our other Seabury alums on the Gulf Coast, and all the good folks in peril from the sea.

A recent MacInTouch reader’s comment called attention to Farhad Manjoo’s polemical tract from Slate, directed against printer manufacturers. While Manjoo frames his essay in a way that muddies the case, I share his frustration with the market model for near-commodity goods such as printers (and razors and cell phones) — where the low cost of entry for the vehicle locks the buyer into very costly proprietary consumables (ink, blades, minutes). A couple of years ago I pleaded with the LazyWeb to put together a long-life, low-maintenance printer, but so far no one has gotten on board.
 
On the brighter side, Margaret’s home safely from her first week of work at Loyola; classes begin for her next week. Go, team!

David pointed to Fantastic Contraption which is obviously a subtle plot by some terrorist organization to bring the productivity of U.S. workers to a grinding halt.
 
Mine, anyway.
 
The boys and I used to love The Incredible Machine (I even miss the intro theme), the game on which Fantastic Contraption is obviously modeled. Likewise, my dad and I loved Rube Goldberg cartoons (one of the Christmas presents I remember most vividly was a catalog from Goldberg’s 1970 exhibition at the Museum of History and Technology). I wish I could clear away the whole long list of tasks that need my attention, so I could devote a whole day or two to these entrancing puzzles. (By the way, the third level took me long enough that I realized I needed to quit for the day and get to my real work).

Working without your computer entails predictable inconveniences, but the one that frustrates me most is the Ominous Wall of Email accumulating on servers, waiting for me to download it. I’ve successfully kept my inbox below ten items all year — now I see 47 items backed up in my inbox. Most of these I’ll be able to drag to my “Looked This Over” folder right away, but some I won’t, and I still don’t have a signal from Apple concerning the return of my notebook.
 
If you’ve been thinking about dropping me a digital line, this might not be the best week to do it.

Susie Schaefer sent me an email message yesterday afternoon; it began, “I’m supposed to be writing articles on summer youth events for our diocesan newspaper. Instead, I’m erasing every other sentence.” This reminded Susie of the olden days back at Seabury’s Writing Boot Camp (Hello Debra, Beth, Cliff, Siobhán, and others!), where I promised that if we practiced the principles I taught there, eventually we would internalize the awareness of what our colleagues would say to us about malconstructed periods, imprecise usage, and evasive passives.
 
“So, I… decided to entertain myself by making a picture.”
 

 
I glow with pride (not only that my writing instruction has taken root, but also that Susie sustained a correct implementation of LOLspeak), and I urge Susie et al. to press forward for the golden afternoon when they no longer “erase every other sentence,” but compose freely in strong, supple, limber, stirring prose. Even for a diocesan newspaper.
 
Now, I can haz bocaburger?