Who's Your Daddy Now?

One Friday night at the watering hole there were perhaps fifteen or twenty of us from the junk mail company. Sometime between eight and nine o'clock I became restless and decided to head for home.

Hearing me ask for my tab, the Link Monster got on my case about leaving so early, calling me all kinds of wimp, although in less delicate terms.

He was a beer drinker and I'd been drinking my usual, Bourbon Manhattans. This is high octane stuff. I eyed him for a moment, walked to an empty table, sat down, and motioned him over. He came and sat down opposite me.

Curious as to what was going on, a friend we'll call Bonch came over with his drink and sat down with us. Bonch and Link shared a house, so this was going to work out well. Link had a gleam in his eye, not knowing what was going to happen, but sure it would be fun.

The waitress came over and I ordered two Bourbon Manhattans, straight up. A moment later she brought them and as she set them down Link, who had never tasted one, looked at me and asked "Do we slam these or what?"

Perfecto! "Of course."

As the waitress turned to leave, I touched her arm and indicated that she should stay. Link and I slammed our drinks and I told the waitress "Two more."

She looked at me with some concern, and I reached into my pocket, pulled out the car keys, and gave them to Bonch. I looked expectantly at Link until he did the same. Satisfied, the waitress went to fetch two more. Bonch was grinning from ear to ear.

The drinks arrived, we slammed them, and I said "Two more." The waitress sighed and went off to order them.

While we waited, Link said "I have to go to the men's room." Up he got and off he went.

Bonch: "I think you've got him."

Donnie: "Why do you say that?"

Bonch: "Because he went like this." Bonch picked up a cocktail napkin and dabbed delicately at the corners of his mouth.

The drinks arrived, but there was no Link. After a few minutes Bonch and I got up to go check the men's room.

Empty.

We went out the front door and saw Link sitting on a wrought iron bench, head between his knees and a puddle of vomit between his feet.

Bonch: "You alright, Link?"

Link Monster: "Fuckin' Richards."

That finished the night, of course. I went in and finally got to pay my tab, and Bonch drove us home, taking my car, with Link passed out in the back seat. Bonch said he'd pick me up in the morning.

The next morning, at about the appropriate hour, there was no sign of Bonch and Link. I called, got their answering machine, and began shouting "GET UP! GET UP! GET UP!"

Bonch picked up the phone and said he was about to leave, but "I don't think Link is going to make it."

On the way to work he filled me in. He'd had to half carry Link into the house and up to his bed. Having accomplished that, he went downstairs to get a bucket or something for Link in case he had to upchuck, and while he was down there he heard a thump. When he got back upstairs, he found that Link had rolled off the bed.

He then had to go back out to the car and clean up the back seat, where Link had orally disposed of some beer and some bourbon.

Apparently, Link woke up around six P.M. thinking it was six A.M. and called his boss to leave a message. She answered and he told her "I don't think I'll be in today."

"No shit."

Billy Visits Chicago

A year or two after I moved to Chicago, brother Billy came for a visit. I have mentioned that my area consisted of a large number of young women, many single, and a handful of men. When they found out Billy was coming, there was much enthusiasm for meeting him, and a Friday night out was scheduled. In the event, the party consisted of Billy, me, and perhaps ten of the women.

We began with drinks (and introductions) somewhere, then had dinner (in Old Town, I *think*), and moved on to a little dive that was a favorite of ours at the time, a joint with a jukebox full of sixties music, sawdust on the floor, and a bar and high tables with stools.

Billy had some adjusting to do, being absolutely surrounded by young women making a big deal of him. At one point he leaned across the table and in a low voice asked me "How do you stand it?"

At one point, Barry McGuire's Eve of Destruction was played, and Billy and I got into a minor disagreement over a sequel that had been released, a sappy thing called Dawn of Correction that had reached #36 on the pop charts (OK, I just looked it up). He had the title right but I, for some reason, was certain that it was Dawn of Construction. There being no way to settle the matter at the time, we just dropped the subject (or so I thought).

The main event lasted for perhaps six hours, at which point the married women had to head for home, and things slowed down. In conclusion, Billy, three of the women, and I headed back to Old Town to a family restaurant for a final cup of coffee. Billy insisted on paying, the women stepped outside, and I followed a moment later, to find them doing a can-can to improvised lyrics professing undying love for Billy. By any standard, the evening was a success.

Several months later, I hosted our area's Christmas party at the Lakeview Men's Club. There were fifty or sixty attendees, half employees and half spouses and other dates. About halfway through the evening, Nicki, whom you've met before, called for quiet and announced that she wanted to present me with something. There was some grinning and giggling, so apparently they were all in on this. Having achieved the desired quiet, she approached me with a small, gift wrapped item and informed me that it was a gift from all the employees and my brother Billy.

This could not end well for me.

I opened it to find a pristine 45 rpm record in a sleeve, Dawn of Correction, by The Spokesmen. I suppose I looked as if I'd been caught with my hand in the cookie jar, because there was much laughing and pointing. At me.

That's OK, though. As I have said here before, I don't mind going out on a limb, and I also don't mind the occasional times when it gets sawed off behind me.

Nicki was *quite* pleased with herself until . . . until . . . her date - and this was their first date - began to speak. Apparently when he called for Nicki she was still wrapping the record. She explained the situation to him and how much fun it was going to be:

That Donnie Richards. He thinks he's
so smart. Well, we got him this time.

Poor Nicki turned red, scowled at him, and dropped him like a hot potato after that night.

No More Google?

Google has decided to rename itself. No more "Google," but "Topeka" instead.

The folks at Google Topeka are so full of themselves that they have actually created a page instructing us on what new verbs and spellings should replace "google".

Now we are to say "Topeka it" instead of "Google it."

Right. Ah ha ha ha ha ha.

"Topeka it" does not roll trippingly from the tongue, and I suspect that "Google it" will be around for a while yet. When it is replaced, common usage will be something less cumbersome than "Topeka it." Perhaps "Peke it" or something like that.

Studies have shown that the "oo" sound is attractive to the human ear, and I think Google has scrooed up.

As for our new marching orders, how can those people take themselves so seriously?

It is reminiscent of the press conference held a few years ago to announce that there would be no more "Kentucky Fried Chicken," only "KFC."

It's just fast food, guys, and nobody cared but you.

Update, a few minutes later: OK, they got me. It's April Fool's Day, and I'm one of the early fools. Ah ha ha ha ha ha.

Scavenger Hunts

While I was in junk mail there was a period of perhaps five years during which I conducted an annual scavenger hunt.

The way this worked was:

1. I would make up a list of items to be gathered by the participants. The items were "weighted" - they had points assigned to them.
   
   
2. We would all gather at the local watering hole on a Saturday afternoon, and participants would draw lots to make up teams of three or four members, depending on how many people were involved. "Couples" could not be on the same team.
   
   
3. Copies of the list would be distributed, each participant getting one.
   
   
4. The teams would huddle separately, assigning various neighborhoods and items to individuals.
   
   
5. The scavengers would scatter, having three hours to earn points by returning to the watering hole, where I was dug in for the duration, and showing me the items, some of which they had to return to their owners.
   
   
6. I handed out the small trophies I'd purchased and had inscribed for the members of the winning team.
   
   
7. We adjourned to the post-hunt party at my house, where some interesting and amusing stories were told about the day's activities.

• One young woman visited her grandmother, caught her in mid-sandwich, so to speak, and made her take her false teeth out of her mouth so they could be shown to me for credit.
  
  
• One year my buddy Jeff (RIP) found himself on the same team as Karen, and gloated because the year before Karen had been on the winning team and many of the items had come from Karen's mom, When his team finished last, he complained it was because they had a "used mom."
  
  
• One participant, Mo, came loaded for bear. The night before a hunt he loaded his trunk with things he thought might be on the list, and one actually was - a "wheat back" penny.
  
  He also left his credit card with a liquor store as ransom for a real cash register. He was given thirty minutes to get it back to the store before his credit card was charged, and he arrived huffing and puffing, carrying it into the bar for credit, and *just* made it back to the liquor store in time. Those things are heavy.
  
  Finally, one of the items was "an out of state license plate." He went to the company parking lot, saw a car with New York plates, swiped one (and left a note under a windshield wiper) got credit, and returned the plate. In the meantime, the car's owner had called the police about it. I never did find out how that ended.
  
  One thing's for sure - he was in it to win.
  
  
• One year the list included a real saddle. Two guys on one team drove out into the country, found a riding stable, and sweet talked their way into borrowing a saddle. One brought it to me for points and said he had left his partner as hostage for the return of the saddle. At the party, the partner complained "You didn't even ask them if they would take a credit card!"
  
  
• One item was a first place trophy for any league sport. There were a few on display at the company, and the first scavengers to arrive there took one and hid the rest so no other team could use them for credit.
  
  Similarly, several couples dirtbagged each other. Whichever one made it home first would take whatever was necessary and hide any extras so they could not be used by the opposition.
  
  
• Another item was a pair of handcuffs. Two women headed for one's home while she called her husband and said "Take the handcuffs off the bed."
  
  
• One year a Gideon's Bible caused one member to head for the local Holiday Inn, where the staff gave him one. On his way out, he jumped into line and kissed a new bride.
  
  
• For "a real X-ray" one scavenger brought in an X-ray of a snake, which he acquired from a veterinarian friend. Full credit.
  
  
• Just before a hunt, one friend, Jack, who lived with Karen (who had a first place trophy), told me "I gotta win. I gotta win." I asked him why and he said that every now and then she would pick up her trophy "And she gives me one of these" (twisting an imaginary trophy clockwise in his hand). "And then she gives me one of these" (twisting counter-clockwise).
  
  Alas, Jack never did get a trophy.

When Is a Year a Leap Year?

Triggered by the preceding post, an afterthought:

Do you know how to tell whether a year is a leap year? Or do you only *think* you know?

Here's how it goes: A year is a leap year if

• It is evenly divisible by 4
  • but not evenly divisible by 100
    • unless it is evenly divisible by 400
      • and not evenly divisible by 4000 (Gotcha!)

Y2K: A Dud?

Well, we've finished with the decade beginning with the year 2000, and now there are a number of lists and videos making the rounds, representing the views of their creators on what were the best, most, biggest, worst, whatever, events, songs, videos, movies and so on, of the decade.

One item of agreement among several of the lists and videos seems to be that Y2K was a disappointment, a bust that didn't live up to its hype, and was therefore overinflated to begin with.

'Tain't so, it says here.

Home computers will be mentioned here only in passing, as my direct experience was elsewhere. However, I do want to say that Bill Gates got away with bloody murder in testimony before Congress. Asked when Microsoft began planning for Y2K, he replied "From day one." No one thought to ask him, "Well then, why the 1999 flurry of fixes and patches for all the versions of Windows?"

Y2K didn't live up to its hype because billions - quite literally, billions, of dollars were spent to ensure the outcome that in fact became reality.

I was an employee of a contracting firm and was farmed out to IBM during the last half of 1998 and all of 1999 (and beyond, but that's not relevant here), and I know that IBM paid my company more than a quarter of a million dollars for my Y2K related work. That's one person in one tiny corner of one corporation in one country. At a guess, more than three million dollars were spent on Y2K in the ten person department I was attached to.

Some of the software maintained by that department was used internally by IBM, and some in support of *huge* clients, multi-billion dollar corporations.

Why was all this necessary? How did it come about?

The problem existed at all levels of computers and programming, from the PC you used at home or at work to mainframes, the "big iron" used for decades by companies - think HAL from 2001 and smaller versions.

At the beginning, both memory and storage for computers were much more expensive than today, and bytes (think "characters") that did not absolutely have to be present were not, simply in order to save money. But even then there were special programming routines in many systems to deal with differences between centuries.

If a program needed to determine the age of an individual, that age was calculated. The date of birth was often carried in a YYMMDD format, so someone born on March 21, 1973 had a birth date of 730321. If a program running on February 23rd, 1994 needed to know that person's age, subtractions were done, 94 minus 73, 02 minus 03 (oops, a negative number, so subtract 1 from the "years" result and add 12 to the "months" result), and 23 minus 21. There were several other approaches, but they all accomplished the same thing - determining the age of the individual.

But what if the person had been born on March 21, 1897? Now the year subtraction routine running on February 23, 1994 dealt with "year data" that required subtracting 97 from 94 and a nonsense result was achieved, so 100 had to be added to the result.

Undetectable in many situations was the case where the person was born in 1893. The calculation - including 94 minus 93 - showed a 101 year old person to be 1 year old.

OK, so much for that. In the beginning, then, the elimination from data of these numbers that showed the century was perhaps necessary, perhaps only highly desirable, but in any case a common practice.

The first warnings that this would someday present a problem, at least the first warnings that I recall, came in the 1970's. Naturally, people in the 1960's knew of the potential, but 2000 was *so* far away. Surely the system would have been replaced by then, and the replacement would include the century.

Now this next is only *my* perspective. It is certainly true in many cases but equally certainly not true in at least some cases.

Businesses are universally reluctant to spend money if they can find a workable way around it, and reasonably so. Unfortunately, this can lead to unreasonable solutions. In the 1980's, more people began saying that there would be a year 2000 problem. But as existing systems became inadequate for other reasons - new products, higher volumes, whatever - companies consistently took the cheaper path and modified existing systems rather than spend the time and money to rewrite them. The systems that would "surely" be replaced were in fact hanging around.

By the early to mid-1990's, everyone knew there would be a problem. But in the late 1980's and early 1990's, many data processing managers - all the way up to the executive level - were reluctant to take the problem to their bosses and say "We have to spend hundreds of thousands (or in many cases millions) of dollars to fix this problem." In some cases they weren't going to be around in that arena and that company come the year 2000, and they simply left the problem to their successors.

Thus in the several years remaining there began a scramble to fix a problem whose existence had been known for more than three decades.

Many companies brought old programmers out of retirement, particularly old COBOL programmers because COBOL had been *very* commonly used. I don't know whether anyone has done a serious study of how much money was spent worldwide on Y2K between say, 1995 and a few days after January 1, 2000, but it is certainly hundreds of billions of dollars.

So yes, Y2K passed *mostly* uneventfully, but what would you expect with that kind of effort and investment.

BTW, birth dates and ages were not the only problem, not by a long shot. Many systems used dates for all kinds of things - payrolls, dates of file creations, elapsed times between iterative processes, navigation, health monitoring devices, etc.

At IBM on December 31 and January 1, we worked in shifts, watching hour by hour as each time zone around the world reached the critical hour, people in each zone ready to learn from and react to any problems that arose in time zones ahead of "us."

Some examples of things that *didn't* go well:

• In a test of its Y2K changes, one California city's sewage system dumped tons of raw sewage into a public area.
  
  
• Newspapers, public neon date and time displays, and other media showed the date as 19100, as did a "Y2K experts" firm's web site.
  
  
• A video store began charging customers for returning videos 100 years after the due dates.
  
  
• Some ATM's rejected credit cards, "thinking" they had expired more than 90 years earlier.
  
  
• Australian Diner's club statements showed that January purchases occurred before December purchases.

Actually, the problem began earlier and some manual intervention was required in the late 1990's when inadequately tested "Y2K compliant" software went into production. Products with expiration dates that carried only two digits for the year were determined to have expired if the real expiration date was "00."

But these are mouse nuts compared to what could have happened.

You're welcome. Ah ha ha ha ha ha.

Learn to Take Care of Yourself

Sometime in the early 1980's, Mandy (whom you have already met) and I visited her sister, brother-in-law, and nephew in a very small town in southern Illinois.

Nephew Jim was of junior high school age and his parents wanted to buy a home computer for him. They knew nothing at all about computers and had little to spend on them, and enlisted my help. By far the least expensive computer available at the time was a Commodore 64, on sale at a local K-Mart for $69. It was also about the worst around, but their budget just didn't stretch beyond a hundred dollars.

BIL and I headed for K-Mart on Saturday morning and made the purchase. That computer only accepted keyboard and cassette input, and we picked up a couple of cassettes containing games, at least one of which was an "adventure" game. We're talking about the early days here, and such games consisted of text and still pictures, a step up from the very earliest games, which were text only.

It took just a few minutes to get everything hooked up and Jim behind the keyboard. We popped the adventure game in and I explained the concept to Jim, who was hot to trot.

We all watched for a moment as he encountered the first danger, which was in the form of a snake guarding a door. In no time flat Jim had been bitten and died, and had to start the game again, a severe penalty as loading data from the cassette was slower than cold molasses.

We four adults adjourned to the kitchen for coffee and conversation, and every five minutes or so we would hear from the living room a frustrated "Dang!" or "Aw geez," or "WHAAAAT?"

But at last Jim's voice floated into the kitchen, amusing us with an exaggeratedly casual "Y'oughtta learn to take care of yourself, Snake."