Oh, now that takes me back!

EDITED: I forgot to actually link Cal’s blog. Sorry, Cal!

Cal posted this, and promptly whisked me away in the Wayback Machine to Christmas 1981, when I got one of these for Christmas.

The Commodore VIC-20 was our first personal computer, and my God, did I spend tons and tons of time on that thing. In retrospect, I didn’t spend nearly enough time learning to program the thing, although I did figure out how to quite a bit of cool stuff. BASIC wasn’t the easiest programming language to work with (years later I would do some work with Modula-2, a langauge similar to Pascal, and I remember thinking many times, “My God, this language makes so much more sense than BASIC!”).

The VIC-20 was…well, try and use one now, and you’d get laughed out of the room. It boasted all of 3.5K of RAM, which means that the laptop on which I am writing this post is the RAM equivalent of over 1,600,000 VIC-20s. And the computer offered a screen resolution allowing for just 22 characters! Here’s a screenshot I found (on an entire Tumblr devoted to the VIC-20):

And there wasn’t any kind of user interface, really; the computer was expecting you to either load a program, or start typing one in. And that would involve BASIC. I wager that everyone who came of age right around that time would remember typing some version of the following into some computer of the day:

10 PRINT “HELLO JAQUANDOR”
20 GOTO 10

And then you’d type RUN, hit ENTER, and giggle as the screen filled up with

HELLO JAQUANDOR
HELLO JAQUANDOR
HELLO JAQUANDOR
HELLO JAQUANDOR
HELLO JAQUANDOR
HELLO JAQUANDOR
HELLO JAQUANDOR
HELLO JAQUANDOR
HELLO JAQUANDOR
HELLO JAQUANDOR
HELLO JAQUANDOR
HELLO JAQUANDOR
HELLO JAQUANDOR
HELLO JAQUANDOR
HELLO JAQUANDOR
HELLO JAQUANDOR
HELLO JAQUANDOR
HELLO JAQUANDOR
HELLO JAQUANDOR
HELLO JAQUANDOR
HELLO JAQUANDOR
HELLO JAQUANDOR

Fun times, those.

The VIC-20 connected to a regular teevee. At that time, our family color teevee was a tiny thing — its screen was maybe eleven inches, and probably less than that, so the computer got hooked up to a B&W set for a few years. Also, when the computer was turned on, it would emit some kind of signal that had an unfortunate effect on regular teevee reception in our home, which was spotty already anyway because we didn’t have cable at that point and had to rely on a rooftop antenna to get all of three channels — ABC, CBS, and NBC — from Buffalo. The cable lines hadn’t been run up our road yet, so that was it. And if someone wanted to watch teevee while I wanted to use my computer, well, they got a shitty picture. I remember one night my father was watching a football game, with a crappy picture, and he yelped in pleasure when I finally turned off my computer and he could see the game more clearly. Ahh, the electronics of the early 1980s! I don’t miss those days, but I do kinda miss the “Golly gee!” aspect of it all.

Later on my parents bought a larger color teevee for me to use with the VIC. They got a deal from a local store on it, because the store had been using that particular teevee — a 19-incher! — to demonstrate, of all things, another VIC-20! They turned it on and left it on, all day, every day, so the image of their demo game was burned into the screen. (It was a slot machine game.) That teevee served me well for quite a few years, though, even after it developed an odd habit of “ticking” whenever it wasn’t turned on. We called it “the clicking wonder”, and that teevee was my primary teevee until I got married and we bought a 25-inch monstrosity.

I ended up using the VIC-20 more for playing games than programming. As a gaming machine, nowadays it’s pretty laughable except as a nostalgia trip, but at the time, it was really pretty good. As far as I could tell, its games and gameplay were pretty much just as good as, say, the Atari 2600 game console. A lot of the same games were available, even, albeit with the names changed. (Yes, once upon a time, Space Invaders was fun.) I remember a lot of those games, particularly my first-ever home version of Pac-man, which was a knockoff called Snakman. And believe it or not — because you can almost always find something pertaining to everything on the Internet — here’s an actual video review of that very game. I have not set eyes on that game screen in nearly thirty years.


Wow. It’s funny that he talks about joystick delay, because we had no joystick for a while and used keyboard controls. I still remember what they were: E (up), V (down), J (left), and L (right). Don’t ask me why that’s stuck in my head for all these years.

In terms of computing history, the VIC-20 was eclipsed by the Commodore 64 a few years later, and meanwhile, Apple was doing some interesting things with its new gizmo computer, the Macintosh.

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Sentential Links

Want some linkage? Sure you do.

:: That eight hour chunk in the middle of the day when I am at, what they laughably call “work” — now that could go, quite easily. They keep insisting on giving me money for it, however (the fiends!) which I just can’t say no to. A big pile of cash could solve that quite easily, but they just don’t leave those lying around. Or maybe they do and I’m always late getting there. I don’t know. (Heh…tell me about it. I’m pretty sure some awful rapscallion is out there having fun on my dime, and it pisses me off!)

:: I have never heard such laughter in my house. I have never seen such smiles. And I have never seen such a heartfelt, spontaneous and natural mingling of cultures, sharing of customs — and a speedy exchange of phone numbers and Facebook pages. All because of pie.

:: And the time for debate is long since past anyway; the science is in, and it’s sound science. I’m tired of politicians equivocating and hemming and hawing about global warming. We need to stop fiddling while the world burns, and start putting out this fire.

:: The Piecemeal God is a powerful interdimensional entity, a survivor from the previous iteration of the universe, essentially trapped in the Void between worlds, and only able to manifest physically through its worshipers. Members of its cult cultivate purity of spirit, striving to attain a state of mind as close to that of their deity as possible. When a Cultist reaches that “purity”, the Piecemeal God crosses over into our universe, transforming its Cultist’s flesh into part of its unholy body. Because no single three-dimensional creature can contain this Lovecraftian entity, the Piecemeal God must content itself with this disconnected existence. (I’m not sure what to make of this….)

:: Remember, kids: it never gets better. Petty, childish, entitled arguments will always happen. Every day. Constantly. There are always boors and poseurs and selfish me-monkeys in life, no matter where you go, and being on the Internet simply opens up the possibility of running across more of them. It’s the dichotomy of existence: we yearn for connection and companionship and commiseration, only to find that there are few people who are truly worth the effort. Life really is high school with money.

The nice thing about growing up is that, unlike high school, you get the chance to limit your contact with the people who are annoying dicks about it.

:: If you want to transfer a few hundred gigabytes of data, it’s generally faster to FedEx a hard drive than to send the files over the internet. This isn’t a new idea—it’s often dubbed SneakerNet—and it’s how Google transfers large amounts of data internally. (Wow, the things you learn!)

:: She knew she was in trouble when the film’s female lead, Marjorie Reynolds, started putting on the blackface and worrying aloud that what she’d hoped for the number was to be pretty… the implication being that, by portraying a black woman, she couldn’t be. (I don’t recall ever seeing that scene before, so I watched it on YouTube and…oh Lord, how awful. Ye Gods. My only memory of ever watching Holiday Inn was at Christmastime one year while I was in college, and my sister derisively saying, “Whoever thought of casting Bing Crosby as a romantic lead was insane.” In truth, I kinda had to agree. He had a wonderful voice, but the man did not in my eyes ever once radiate romantic vibes of any sort. In my head, Bing Crosby is always sixty years old and smoking a pipe.)

:: The writer Pete Hamill said in 2005 that he was “some mad combination of a Lindy’s waiter, Coney Island barker, Catskills comedian, irritated school principal and eccentric uncle.” This was meant as a compliment, and it’s pretty accurate. The praise he received was no doubt warranted, but somehow, I was not his biggest fan. (I don’t have too many thoughts on Ed Koch, to be honest…we moved to New York while he was mayor of NYC, and he ran for Governor a year after we arrived (and called all of us upstaters a bunch of rubes, basically). I dunno…he was just kind of there, I suppose.)

All for this week. Tune in next week!

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Sunday Burst of Weird and Awesome

Oddities and Awesome abound!

:: One of the greatest interactive maps, ever: Vaguely Rude Placenames. Hover over the little flags to see the names. Great stuff! Apparently there’s a place in Iran called “Shit”.

:: Back when I used to watch the Oscars semi-seriously, I would dutifully sit through the Obituary Tribute thing and say to myself, “Hey, they left out _____!” Turns out there’s cinematic politics involved in the selection of the honored dead. Wow.

:: Here in Buffalo, we often deflect the derision heaped upon our winter weather by pointing out that our summers have never hit 100 degrees (although with global warming, I expect that this claim will not be available to us much longer), we don’t have to worry about tornadoes, wildfires, hurricanes, volcanoes, earthquakes, and so on. Add to that list…raining spiders!

If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go lie down and shiver a bit. More next week!

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Photographic Evidence

Chronicling some recent adventures, misadventures, and regular old humdrum ventures of life, through the magic of digital photography! Huzzah!!!

Photos after the break….

First of all, Winter Storm Nemo came through the Northeast, as some of you may have heard. As is usually the case with Nor’easters, Buffalo-Niagara was mainly spared the big hit. Northern Niagara County (about 40 miles north of Casa Jaquandor) got hit with about a foot and a half of snow, but down here in the Southtowns, we didn’t get much at all, about four or five inches. Here’s what it looked like when the snow was starting to accumulate:

SnowMG!!!!

And here’s what it looked like the next morning:

SnowMG! The morning after. We got off easy, but good thoughts to those struggling now.

Ayup. Not much difference!

Of course, the cats responded to this climatic threat as they always do:

What people could learn from kittehs....

A random food thing: I like pistachio nuts.

I enjoy pistachios.

I’m glad they don’t color the damned things pink anymore, though! That was pretty annoying. I love the scene in the original Naked Gun movie where Leslie Nielsen and George Carter are staking someone out, and they’re passing the time by eating pistachios in their car. Evidently they’ve been there a while, because a solid inch around both their lips is solid pink and there’s an enormous pile of spent shells outside the car door.

Speaking of food, here’s what I look like when shopping:

Good lord...I'm just reading a label. Why does my face default to KILL YOU WITH FIRE?!

Apparently I’m incredibly angry about what I see on the label there. Weird, huh? Seriously, I’m starting to think I’m the human version of Grumpy Cat.

Anyway, on with the shopping….

Shopping I: O the choices!

Shopping II: Hobgoblin Ale?

Shopping III: I could really go for some pie


No, I didn’t get the Hobgoblin Ale. Nor did I get the coconut cream pie, alas!

I continue to be fascinated with my two pairs of Carhartt overalls, which are amazingly comfy and cozy in the cool weather. The only problem I have thus far is that, being as they are, respectively, black and brown (instead of blue denim or hickory striped), they attract cat hair like crazy. So every time I wear them out of the apartment, I have to go through this ritual first:

Cat hair, GAHHH!!!

I’ve also decided of late that I own too many dark-colored shirts and sweaters, so I’m trying to diversify a bit. I actually got this nice light-gray sweater at a local consignment store for a few bucks:

Reading rules!

I have also, over the last few years, taken a liking to the color orange, which I was never enamored of before. Strange how tastes change, isn’t it?

And finally, I had a moment the other day wherein I fully embraced my inner twelve-year-old. When I was leaving work for the day, I noticed a large sheet of bubble wrap blowing around the parking lot. It was about six feet long and one foot wide, with the larger air pockets. I didn’t want it floating around out there forever, so I grabbed it to put it in the trash dumpster outside…and then, the thought occurred to me. What thought? This thought:

I drove over bubble wrap, and IT WAS AWESOME. Your argument is invalid.

Yes, I tucked one edge under my car’s back tire, spread it out before the tire as best I could, rolled down my window so I could hear it, and drove over the bubble wrap. And yes, the sound was glorious. I couldn’t believe how loud it was! It was like driving through a corn popper. And then, my fun having been had, I got out and properly disposed of the now-destroyed sheet of bubble wrap.

And that’s the fun that’s been had lately! It’s always an adventure, here at Casa Jaquandor!

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Tip your server, folks!

I’m a little late to the party on this, but:

That’s the note left on the receipt at an Applebee’s restaurant, signed by, of all people, a pastor. Amazing.

Now, the server who was the victim of this bit of Un-Christian awfulness isn’t the one who posted this pic online; that server got fired for her troubles. As a former restaurant manager, I kinda-sorta understand why Applebee’s fired that server, but this whole deal also points out that the old business models and management notions are a bit behind the curve, what with things like social media about. The firestorm of negative publicity toward Applebee’s that shot through Blogistan, Facebookatopia, and the Twitterverse will probably be a lot more costly to the company, long-term, than anything an angry, petulant, entitled, and whiny pastor might have done. (Especially one so full of herself that her first impulse was to demand the firing of every single employee of that restaurant. Yup, you read that right. She demanded that even employees who weren’t even there that day get fired. Ayup.)

The firing of that server is bad, but I don’t think it’s that bad; a server with any level of skill should not have too much trouble landing on her feet at another restaurant. That industry is not exactly known for long-term tenure of its workers, and when I worked in restaurants, whenever a server left, we would invariably hear that he or she had been hired to serve someplace else. I wouldn’t worry about her.

And besides, the real bad actor here was, of course, the pastor. She managed to unleash a perfect storm of assholedom that is really amazing to behold. Stiffing a server is bad, to begin with. (If you choose to undertip because of service issues, it’s best to talk to the manager, because in my experience, no server is going to walk away from a table from which he or she has been stiffed or undertipped thinking, “Gee, I wonder what their issue was with my service?” They’re going to think, “Cheap bastards”, and move on. Trust me on this.) You can dislike tipping all you want, but to flaunt the system is just mean and petty and ineffective. Tips are livelihood to these workers. Treat it as such.

On top of stiffing the server, there is the leaving of the note. There’s so much assholedom to unpack here! First, just leaving a note at all makes clear that the stiffing of the server is not an oversight. Sometimes people really do forget to tip, or other times, there’s the “Hey, did you leave the tip? Nah, I thought you were leaving the tip!” thing that happens. But the note is basically rubbing the server’s nose in shit…and then this pastor invokes God as a justification for it, as if to say, “I have The Lord‘s support in stiffing you!” Plus, the pastor is apparently unaware of the concept of giving ten percent of one’s entire income to God, and kicking back eighteen percent of a guest check in a restaurant to a server. They’re not even the same thing. One wonders how this pastor got through school.

And there’s something else going on here, too. The pastor was part of a large group of diners, for whom Applebee’s apparently has a policy of automatically charging an eighteen-percent gratuity. Why do restaurants have such policies? Because — and this is something many diners may not realize — large parties tend to be bad for servers’ pocketbooks. Large parties often undertip as a matter of course, and there’s a double whammy involved as a large party (a) takes up a disproportionate part of a server’s section, (b) places significant extra demands in terms of time and effort on the server, and (c) tends to be present in the dining room longer than normal tables. Putting it briefly, large parties mean that servers wait on fewer tables, which results in lower income. That’s why a lot of restaurants have an automatic-gratuity policy: to make serving them worth the server’s time.

But apparently this pastor’s group of diners decided to try and skirt that policy by requesting separate checks! Note the total on the bill: $34.93. That’s about what it costs for two, maybe three, people at Applebee’s. So they were already trying to scheme their way out of paying the eighteen percent, and when it got assessed anyway, well, the pastor whipped out her pen and said, “Oh yeah? Trying to hold me to your policy anyway? Bullshit!” Thank God the Internet was ready to exact penance!

What I end up wondering is, what are this pastor’s sermons like. I wonder if she is able to preach on the Sermon on the Mount with a straight face. Perhaps not; maybe she’s one of those pastors who nurses an unhealthy fetish for Leviticus.

Tip your servers, folks. They work hard, they genuinely want you to enjoy your experience, and you hold their livelihood in your hands. Literally. And if you don’t want to tip servers, well…use what would have been the tip money to buy cookbooks and just stay home.

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Something for Thursday

The opera overtures of Franz von Suppe have been a staple of ‘light classical music’ concerts for over a century, and I see no reason for that to stop any time soon. Von Suppe’s overtures are wonderfully melodic, packed with drama, and wonderfully orchestrated. Most of all, they’re just fun to listen to. I return to these time and again, for what I hope is obvious reason. Here are a few of them.

Morning, Noon, and Night in Vienna:


Light Cavalry:


Jolly Robbers


We played that one in high school, actually, and that opening fanfare for the trumpets was terrifying. It starts with a high F, which is one of the hardest notes to nail on that instrument (because of the physics involved in how the instrument works). The level of exposure, right at the beginning, was well and truly scary.

And finally, my favorite, Poet and Peasant:


Enjoy!

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Super Thoughts

A few random thoughts on the Super Bowl….

:: This was the first football I’ve watched since week four or five of the regular season. I haven’t watched this little football in a single season since the mid-1980s, and in all honesty, I didn’t much miss it. I’ve also pretty much stopped listening to sports talk on the radio, even as little as I did that (mostly to and from work, and rarely on weekends). I’m just increasingly meh on the whole thing. I find the fans’ mad rush to re-embrace hockey after a completely pointless and avoidable work stoppage pretty disheartening, and I find a lingering unpleasant aftertaste in football each time we learn a little more about long-term brain injuries. And I really find something distasteful and sad every time I hear a fan basically blow all that off on the basis that “They knew they were signing up to play a violent game.”

:: As for the Super Bowl itself, it was a weird game, definitely one of the stranger games I’ve seen. It looked like a blow-out at first, and then there was the power outage, and then the comeback. Ultimately it was decided by four mistakes, all made by the 49ers a fumble and an interception (both of which led to Baltimore TDs), one of the worst instances of goal-line play-calling in history, and the single worst coverage afforded a kickoff in all the time I’ve watched the game. Weird that the game ended up as close as it did.

:: Ray Lewis, when asked about the murders in which he was involved: “God doesn’t use murderers to do His work.” Note to Ray: open your Bible and read a little. Especially the part about Barabbas.

:: The commercials: I was amused by the M&Ms one and the goat eating the Doritos. Other than that, as usual, I paid little attention. The idea of willingly sitting down to watch advertising strikes me as a giant waste of time.

:: Alicia Keys did a wonderful job on the National Anthem. I loved her simple, understated performance.

:: The halftime show nearly gave me a seizure, what with all that flashing of lights. Hated it.

:: Phil Simms is really annoying.

That’s about it. Next up…well, who knows. Like I said, I care less about sports in general each year. The only thing on the sporting horizon to which I am looking forward is actually next year’s Winter Olympics.

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