I don’t think I can handle too many more weeks like this. Michelle’s death cast a pall, and the dog’s injury hurt. Dean’s kitty died… good-bye Destiny. BloggerCon left me conflicted as usual. I saw Steve, the Ookles guy, and asked after a mutual friend… got a strange off-key answer… still don’t know what Ookles does, either.
Today Dave Winer reports that Bob Wyman’s company, PubSub, is coming apart. I think there have to be a thousand train wrecks for every winner. There was talk today also about Bob’s criticisms of Dave in the polling versus pinging argument and Dave’s problems getting his prototypes to scale up into large production systems, and like clockwork, Dave reported that the OPML server sucked right now, but he hoped bringing another online would solve the problem.
I hope Bob can dust himself off and get back on the horse. Maybe Technorati could engage him as a consultant right now!
We’re essentially out of oil, sliding down the increasing slope of the diminishing supply curve in a time of rapidly broadening global demand. The corporations are embarrassingly open about the massive fraud they perpetrate from energy and financial services rip-offs to the theft of $200 billion of tax money that was supposed to fund broadband access in America. Rove’s wedge-issue politics continue to trump truth and reason and the administration can whine about journalist’s discovery of SWIFT transaction monitoring when it’s old news and not particularly meaningful… and whatever happened to the Plame game? And Jessica Lynch? And Terry Schiavo?
I dropped off the board of a local non-profit this week… the president and I have nothing in common except our pig-headedness, and she’s the sparkplug of the outfit. Felt like a failure, none-the-less. There’s a hundred stories in the naked country, most of them boring as watching corn grow.
Tomorrow I will drive the tractor north from Mueller Implements to White Cedar farm where I will mow weeds. As the years pass, the mowing leaves me with more and more grasses and fewer and fewer noxious weeds, so it’s not all bad. While I’m mowing Beth will strip our little dwarf sour cherry tree and in the afternoon we’ll make a cherry pie if the birds have left us any. The dog has a week of healing under her collar and she’s spending more time out in her kennel, climbing stairs by herself, and while still visibly mangled and dragging her right rear foot, her irrepressible personality has resurfaced and she’s spending a lot of time smiling and wiggle-waggling.
Maybe best of all, memer and McD, (and Mr. Follymacher himself)are going all out gaming Technorati on my behalf. No, the upbeat dog is the best part, but the ‘rati games rank right up there. 
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