Tower Of Babel

Mine was pretty decent still. Friday night was fucked, actually, but the rest of the weekend was pretty irie. So what made Friday fucked up? Well, Friday, Natty and I went clubbing, in an after, after work sort of way. All my co-workers who we were to be hanging with for part of the nite left as work was finished, but Natty and I had to set MBJr. up with a sitter, a process that took about two more hours, so we were already several drinks behind them when I bucked them up finally at “The Office” (a local bar and lounge). I should have realised that I would never be able to catch up.

I was past hungry by the time we got there, so we ordered some of that overly oily chicken wings and fries that they serve there. The gas in my system combined in a less-than-optimal way with the liquor and the oily food and so I wasn’t feeling 100% from early o’clock! Then we left “The Office” and went to “DLK” - the same bar by Dump Road where I was ganged some time ago. The place did ram! Nuff nuff ppl, all crowding the place and outting on some dancing. Natty and I stood up in a corner sipping on our drinks and watching the people. As I stood there watching them dance and have a great time, I realised that everybody else was having a blast and I was not.

That pissed me off and so I left with Natty, hoping to join up with HER crew. We went by “Harry’s Bar” and we realised that her crew never made it at all. The vibe was just absolutely absent. I didn’t even finish the drink I got when I went in. About half way through, I just put that sucker down and Natty and I left for home, where I lay down in my bed and fell instantly asleep.

Saturday and Sunday were cool though. I decided to do some work on a website I have been loafing on building, then I linked up a woman I used to work with and did some work with her on some code she couldn’t get working. After that I linked up with the guy I was doing the website for and showed him the pages. We spent some time going over it, then we drove up and down taking a few pictures to use to create a banner for the site.

After that, I went home and did some more work on the code I was helping the lady with. A substantial amount of that code is now written. As a result of my efforts with the code , I had to muck around quite a bit with SQL Server 2005 and I must say I learned a lot! I got a lot of things worked out and configured with the SQL Server software loaded on Compi as well, so that was irie.

In the evening, I set up this redundant PC I picked up from work for fifty bucks, then I loaded it up with Ubuntu Server. That was interesting as well. I now have a nice little LAMP box to fool around with. This is great! I plan to use this box to get more familiar with PHP coding and MySQL databases and perhaps with some Java coding as well. We shall see if I ever find the time! ??:

I guess if I spend less time blogging and more doing this coding / database / web app work, I may learn something and may even create something interesting. Perhaps I may even become worthy enough to at least grovel at the feet of one such as Owen or Taylor. If the stuff I develop is good enough to sell, that would be irie too!

On Sunday, I did a bit of reading of a novel, (Jean M. Auel’s “The Valley of Horses“), I watched the final 24 CD I had to watch, thus finishing up the third season finally, and then I went to the Gym. (that was irie, I love how I feel after the workout). We went out to Canton Restaurant for a great lunch, then we came home. I lounged around until dark descended, then we went for a drive around East End and North Side, then back to Bodden Town, just to get out of the house. Later on that night, I configured an FTP server on the Ubuntu LAMP server and ftp’ed over some web pages to it, just to see how well it served up the pages. It was great.

There you have it. A great tech weekend! I haven’t done something like that in a long time. Perhaps that is why it was so much fun!

Did I manage to keep you here or did I bore you to tears?

Well, for those of you still here, check this out:

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Wow! Apparently a lot of Jamaican men have been having paternity tests done recently and the “rate of exclusion” is pretty high! What is the rate of exclusion? That is basically saying that the men are proven NOT to be the father of the children that they have been supporting!

What a preckeh! It sounds like we cyah trust these women as far as we can throw them, and when you look at the size of some of the “mampy” ones, you know say we cyah throw them very far at all!

So, what is the actual rate at which the men are being proven NOT to be the father of these picknies? Well, the people who are doing the testing have been running a little study. Their study won’t be complete until the end of August, so they won’t know for sure until then, but so far, it appears that one in every three men who does the test has been “given a jacket”! The testers suspect that the final figures at the end of the month will show that the ratio will be even worse than that!

Can you believe it? Is this REALLY how tricky Jamaican women are? Mi God! Yardie women, what oonoo have to say for oonoo-self?

I don’t know about you, but I plan to check in when month end comes around for the final figures!

Does anyone know where we can get figures that will show how our women compare to women of other Caribbean countries, as well as to women from the U.S. and Canada, and perhaps to women from the various countries of South America as well?

Hail, my crew… what a gwaan? Bwoy, I am sitting here waiting on Natty to come back home so that we can get on with watching the second season of the TV series “24″. As I sat there, mulling over what had been going on in the series so far, a question came to me.

There is a character on the show, his name is George Mason. He runs the Counter Terrorist Unit, and they are all focused on finding out where some terrorists have hidden a Nuclear bomb in Los Angeles, right? He gets a report which indicates that Gov’t. think tank types have calculated that there is an 89% chance that the bomb won’t be found in time and that it will in fact explode, killing millions of people.

He loses it momentarily, deciding that he is going to get the hell out of Los Angeles. While he is making his way out of the city, his second-in-command, Tony Almeida, calls him to say that the cops have found as vehicle with a license place number which was somehow tied to the case. Tony asked him to check it out. He didn’t want to, but he let Tony convince him.

So he goes to where the cops found the car and he enters a building with them. Unfortunately for George, this is the building where the terrorists were putting the bomb together. They get attacked by a terrorist or two who were still hanging around and in the shooting, a glass chamber gets destroyed, releasing lots of radiation. George falls unconscious, right in this area of high radiation. Because he was in this area, he gets radiation poisoning. The doctors give him somewhere between between a day and few days to live.

Horrible picture, isn’t it? What does George do? He gets dressed and goes BACK TO WORK! Clearly the man is a patriot beyond compare! I mean, if I had only one to three days to live, I don’t think I would go back to work. There are so many other things to do! You could just go and party! Wine, women, song, the works! Damn! Doesn’t that sound fine!

Or maybe I could just hang with family and friends… maybe I could just soak up some time with them before I drop out… or perhaps I would go to church. Try to get as far back into God’s good books as I could in the time I had left, you know! That actually might be a damned good idea! Hey, I am not sure exactly what I would do in those circumstances, but I do know I wouldn’t spend that time working!

Anyway, here is my question: If you were told you only had about three or four days left to live, what would you do with the time remaining to you?

I like the rims on this car, but the detailing is just awful. Look at what was done to this guy’s car! You have to be careful with the kids nowadays, you know! At least, I assume it was some kids that did this… Terrible! Tch…

Exhibit 1

Exhibit 2

Exhibit 3

N.B. This post is provided translated into English below. Simply go to the bottom of the post and click on the “Continue reading…” link.

Yow, me was ah idle ’round pon de ‘Net and me come ‘cross a post that mek me bawl out “Rass!” and me decide seh me haffi share it wid oonoo!

IF YOUR GIFT IS NOT PACKED THE WAY YOU WANT IT, IT’S BECAUSE IT IS BETTER PACKED THAT WAY! ALWAYS APPRECIATE LITTLE THINGS; THEY USUALLY LEAD YOU TO ATTACHMENTS!

This is the story I read forwarded by my brother about a student who finally reached his goal of graduating with honors from a fine school. He had a dream of having his own sports car and he knew his father can afford to buy it for him. He requested this as a graduation gift. Graduation day came, and after the ceremony, his fathercalled him and handed him a box personally wrapped in his own simple way. The boy was surprised because in the box was a Holy Bible! He got mad, and so he left and went away to live on his own.

Many years passed. After successfully opening his own business and getting a good family, sometimes he would remember his father living alone far away from him. One day he received a letter informing him that his father passed away and willed all his possesions to him. He needed to go back there to arrange everything and when he went, he saw the bible given to him after his graduation by his father. He opened the Bible and read this verse:
Matt 7:11, “And if ye, being evil know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more shall your Heavenly father which is in heaven, give to those who ask Him?”
As he read those words, a car key dropped from the back of the Bible. It had a tag with the dealer’s name, the same dealer who had been selling the sports car he had desired. On the tag was the date of his graduation, and the words… “PAID IN FULL”! He cried, sudden sadness and regret filled his heart…..
How many times do we miss God’s blessings because they are not packaged as we expected?
Be thankful for whatever blessings we have from God.

Interesting little story still, in fact it did sortah fuck up. Me tink dah son deh did wicked doh! Him did deserve de pain weh him feel when de key drop outta de Bible, because him nuh fe dash weh him family because him nuh get de gift weh him want, especially when de gift so expensive. Him too licky licky, Rasta. Anyway, thanks to Anique Anik fi dis likkle story yah.

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Yeah. Sometimes you feel like you are bad. Real bad. No guy can test you. When it come to fighting, is you that. And there may be something to it. You might be pretty good at it. You might be freakin’ strong for your weight, you might possess awesome hand speed, you may have the ability to think quickly when under duress, you may also have years of experience and a series of wins behind you to give you confidence, and you may just have a real killer instinct to top it all off.

Him look impressive, don’t? The thing is… there is always someone out there who is better than you.

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Now here is an interesting tidbit. I went to Yahoo.com this morning and noticed that “Rastafarian Religion” is among the top searches for the day! I’m not sure why that would be, but I am wondering if Zahra Redwood (Miss Jamaica Universe) had something to do with it? I mean, what else is going on in the Rastafarian community right now to have generated such interest? What do you think?

Bwoy, so many things have been happening in Jamaica recently and hardly any of my Yardie blogger bredrins have commented on any of it, they must be really busy…. There is always something going on to distract you from the poor economic performance! Here are just a couple of things I noticed (some quite late!):

I guess the biggest thing to buss in the newspaper was the story that the Scotland Yard investigators have said that Bob Woolmer died of heart failure, not manual strangulation! (actually, Stunner spoke out on this issue)

Wow! That makes the Yard police and the pathologist look especially bad! The Jamaica Constabulary Force has responded. They are sticking to their guns!

Who do I believe? Well, I find it hard to believe that the pathologist can’t tell when someone was strangled. If that is true, well, it is really awful.

Still, I can’t believe that! Maybe the police could have made an error, but I don’t think the pathologist would make such a big boo boo… Something is rotten in this whole affair.

Next up that I thought was interesting was the story of the public washing of dirty laundry between the Attorney General and the Supreme Court Judge.

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Hey Yo! Whattup? Guess what? One of the non-Caribbean blogs I read is BACK! Yeah, I always found the Company Bitch to be an interesting read, but then recently, she made her blog a private blog! Now today I stopped by, just to see what was a gwaan, not really expecting anything, and I saw that she has opened the blog back up to the public! I am really glad too, because I saw this little gem!

Overheard in New York: Office Edition

Due to a bit of an emergency, I was in the office photocopying at 8pm last night.

Thankfully a co-worker was also there, with the important task of paper-clipping, and she was just as irritated as I was.

When two people are irritated about a work-related situation, the only thing to do is blame it on someone who isn’t there. Continue reading her post here…

I swear, she does write some interesting ish, man!

You know, I just dreamt that I was playing badmington in this tournament. I used to play badmington lots when I was younger, though just for fun, and I used to fancy that I was a respectable “D” level player (Thats the lowest level in the league) and that if I worked at it, that I could advance up in the league.

So last night, in my dream I tried out playing in a tournament. Do you know what happened? I played like crap! I was missing lots of easy shots, I was flailing at air with my racquet. I found that while I had a good idea of where the shuttlecock was, I couldn’t reallly see it. The lights on the court were just too damned bright and my eyes were not what they used to be.

I played a singles match (knockout) against this guy and I got creamed. I went off court feeling a bit depressed, and I grabbed a soda, then I heard that I was in a doubles match immediately following! (it was a dream, I tell you!) I didn’t even get to drink much more than a gulp before I was back on court, running hard and flailing away at the air, always near to where the shuttlecock was, but still, always missing. My partner and I lost that game too. Did I mention that this was also a knockout game? Well, it was. I was effectively out of the tournament!

Anyway, at the end of that game, someone came up to me and asked me if the lights were bothering me. I told them that they were. They then loaned me a pair of those sunglasses, you know, the silvery ones they have nowadays that block a lot of glare but that you can see through very easily?

They then arranged for me to have a “warmup” match against the guy I had lost to in the doubles match just played. I know, I know, if we had just had a game, why would he need a warmup match, right? I don’t know why! It was just a dream!

Anyway, I played SO MUCH better it wasn’t funny! I was getting to the shuttle now, making great returns to all corners, over the guy’s head, dropshots, everything! I still didn’t win, but it was a really close battle, so much so that the crowd gave me a lot of applause! I guess they were cheering for the underdog, you know? After I almost won lost that third match, I woke up. You know what I was thinking? “Lawd! Even in my dreams I am getting old! Cho man! Now even my eyesight is going!”. (n)

Have I ever mentioned that the very, very first time I met Natty, I was eleven years old? No? Well, yeah, its true. She was sister to Nicolette, who happened to be a friend of one of Ciya’s friends, Sharie. They came over to my house one day, and I was out on the front lawn playing badmington with someone, I think it was Seven. Natty hung out on the lawn with us, chatting and watching us play. She even took a turn with the racquet herself too, playing against me.

I didn’t see her again until I was about eighteen, but that is another story, one I am sure I have written about, somewhere back in time on the Mad Bull’s Blog. You can go search for it if you like. I will too, just not right now.
Talk to you later, my peeps.