Scene from Brazil

« A full moon hangs over the power tower in Töölö. I've always thought this building has a striking visual effect since the signs are all the same colour, which is unusual, and they converge on adjacent sides of the building. Maybe it's only because I usually see the building when I'm drunk and snarfing food from the Jaskan Grilli across the street. »

Otava kept us up most of the night as his itchy-scratchy condition reached critical mass. The HU Vet Clinic couldn't give him an appointment for two weeks so we had to find someone who would see him ASAP. I spent my afternoon at the vet and dragging my ass to the pet store for a new giant bag of food and to the pharmacy for some medications. First we try a medicated shampoo and topical pesticide in case it is caused by microscopic mites, otherwise we will have to start hunting down the allergen which could be a long, tedious process. But, for now, he's sleeping comfortably without itching and whining which is a major improvement for us all.

While I was waiting in the pharmacy, I was looking at the cute doggie lunchbox that the pet shop gave to me for buying the giant bag of food which opens into two bowls with a water bottle and a food compartment when some nice old guy sat down next to me and started chatting me up about how a metal one would be better and such. I was so tired that I just smiled and nodded since I don't think I could have made conversation even in English. The pharmacy downtown is straight out of a scene from the movie Brazil with the cascades of pneumatic tubes that transport fresh drugs from the basement up to the awaiting customers.

Sean Burke made my evening last night when he pointed out one of the best reads I've had in a while: Dabblers and Blowhards. Even if you're not a geek or one of the incestuous digerati who will find this cutting a little too close to the bone if they read carefully it's a fun read. I remember distinctly when my bullshit-o-meter pegged on 11 when Tim O'Reilly and bunch of others at OSCON one year were starting to go on about how programmers were really artists and could be funded by patrons of the art of programming, etc. I imagine we were drunk, possibly stoned, and still it seemed like an incredibly pretentious way to put a good face on dot.bomb unemployment. The downside of the essay is that we are reminded of ESR's treatise on oral sex for geeks at the end. Hurrr.