“Just Imagine the Fan Fiction Now”

Earlier this weekend, Harry Potter fans world round had yet another bombshell to digest – JK Rowling casually mentioned that Fawkes the Phoenix wasn’t the only one flaming in the Headmaster’s office – Albus Dumbledore was gay.

To this I have to say, well, duh. I’m sorry, but the older, unattached, distinguished English gentleman thing was a good hint. The flaming pet, the purple velvet robes, and I’m not even going to start on a deconstruction of the words “Head Master” – let’s face it, there’s a reason Hollywood initially tapped Ian McKellen for the role.

Did I just say “tapped Ian McKellen”? That may have been over the top. Sorry.

But let’s look at the current actor playing Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore – Michael Gambon. His last major role was in The Good Shepard, where he played Dr. Fredericks, an older, unattached, distinguished English gentleman. And professor. And gay man.

I think we’re seeing a pattern here. The best part, as far as I’m concerned, is that we’ve named one of the family cats Albus. (Yes, the other one is Flitwick.) Great – I have a gay cat! I can’t imagine anything cooler.

The best part of this bombshell will be the inevitable reaction of the Christian Right, now that they know that Harry Potter doesn’t just have magic – it has GAY magic!!!

I’ve been a fan for years, but JK Rowling is my new hero.

A sure sign that I need to monitor their TV habits better…

I’m making my diurnal rounds, ensuring the brushing of teeth, the changing of clothes, and the getting to beds, when the voice of Number 2 daughter echoes faintly from the mountain of pink fluff she uses as a bed. Not unexpectedly, she would like a story. Having neither the energy nor the voice for a full story at the moment, I offer her a recitation of Jabberwocky. (This is by far the most useful and versatile piece of literature you will ever memorize – if you can’t recite it right now, finishing reading this, then find a copy. Oh, fine, click here. Lazybones.)

Anyway, she is very well pleased by this, and then we spend a nice moment making faces at each other. (OK, I was helping teach her how to raise just one eyebrow. Also useful, but you’ll have to look up the link yourself.) The moment passes, and I lean in to kiss her goodnight, on her forehead. She jumps back into her mound of pink, giggling like mad, and yells, and I quote, “Uh-uh, no more kisses for you, big boy!”

This, from the 5-yr-old. I nearly hurt myself laughing. What the hell do they teach them at school these days?

My Grandfather’s Clock Speed

For those of us who remember “My Grandfather’s Clock”, I apologize for the below:

My Grandpa’s PC was too large for the desk
So it stood 20 years on the floor

It was taller by half than I was at the time
And it outweighed our Chevy 4-door.

It was bought in the day
When the mainframes still held sway
And was always a thorn in his side

But it crashed – hard
Never to boot again
When the main board fried

20 years at 8 MegaHertz
beep beep
beep beep

To upgrade now really hurts
beep beep
beep beep

But it crashed – hard
Never to boot again
When the main board fried

You know what’s wrong with DC?

You know what’s wrong with this city? I’ll tell you. I was walking down the street the other day, and there was a guy panhandling, playing music, busking for money from passers-by.

Now ordinarily, I don’t mind that. You’re outside, you’re introducing the magic of music into my day, forged from your own breath, your own soul. A good or even halfway decent street performer will usually get my buck. But this guy wasn’t doing that. This guy had plugged in a boombox to an outlet on the side of a public building, and was playing the radio out of the boombox. He was just sitting there, looking angry, holding out his Big Gulp cup, empty but for the few couins that he rattled.

So let’s review: He’s not working, he’s not creating, he’s not paying for the electricity he’s using to play the radio, he’s playing a radio station – not even playing music that he’s purchased or even selected to play, and he probably stole the damn boombox. OK, that’s uncharitable, but still – here’s this homeless guy with his cup, and he’s too lazy to beg. What have we come to?

Where the Hell has the Big Ugly Man Doll Been?

A few weeks ago I explained away an extended absence by writing about my brief fling with Time – she ran away with me, etc. Rather than beat that dead horse, let’s just get right to what’s been going on.

First, I’ve been immersed in a new gig, brushing up on service oriented architectures and web services that are bound by loose coupling to provide a federated identity management solution with attribute based access controls. If you think it’s boring reading it, try writing about it. Except for the “loose coupling” parts – that’s fun, ‘cause it just sounds so nasty. Mmm, coupling. I like coupling. Then there’s the “loose” part, like Tammy Hancock in 11th grade. Or at least, that what I heard. So anyway, loose coupling. Who says technology can’t be fun?

So, OK, new gig. I’ve also got new meds. I was quite disturbed to read all the things these meds are used for, though – “This medicine may be used to help you stop drinking alcohol.” “This medicine may be used to help you stop smoking.” “This medicine may be used to treat obsessive-compulsive disorder.” “This medicine may be used to treat obsessive-compulsive disorder.” “This medicine may be used to treat obsessive-compulsive disorder.” I mean, wait a minute – I like drinking alcohol! And I only use my obsessive compulsions for good, never for evil! I’m not sure this is the right medication for me. Then there are the side effects – which may include rash and itching, nothing to worry about. Also, you may have an allergic reaction to this medication, the signs of which include rash and itching – call your doctor immediately! I got hives just reading the fact sheet, and they want me to take this every day?

I do take it every day, though. Why, you ask? Because I’m dedicated to improving my health? No. Because I know I should? No. Because my doctor is really cute, and she told me to? Bingo.

I was also warned that “this medicine may have certain sexual side effects.” You know, people are funny about that sort of thing – hey, this may have certain sexual side effects, but they don’t mention just what kind of sexual side effects they’re talking about. I was a little worried that my lil buddy was going to dry up and fall off. So, I was completely unprepared for “certain sexual side effects,” when I suddenly found myself Completely Irresistible To Women! Trust me, there are CERTAIN SEXUAL SIDE EFFECTS. My lovely bride of the last 15 years has forbidden me to discuss the details. Mind you, she’s also put a new lock on the bedroom door.

So, OK, new gig, new meds. I’ve also been caught up in a new book – new to me. If you haven’t read George R. R. Martin’s Fire and Ice series, and you enjoy epic swords and dragons type fantasy, you should read these. Martin doesn’t really have a flair for the language – it took 700 pages to get to the good bits – but once you’re in and you get to know the characters, you’re hooked. They’re huge books, and he writes each chapter by focusing on what’s happening with a particular character. As I said, not a real flair for the language, but he writes like a photographer – the amount of detail devoted to each scene is nothing short of amazing. It’s a very visual series. And as I said, I’m hooked.

In other news, we’ve been sending the Human Sound Machine to CCD class, also known as Catholic Indoctrination, so that he, too, can grow up to wonder what we were thinking. It’s like a rite of passage. Anyway, I came home a week or so ago and I asked him how his day was, and how was CCD. “Daddy, all we talk about in Ms. Soandso’s class is God, God, God, God, God.” Great, 7 years old and already he’s weary of mono-thematic dogma. Maybe they need to diversify the curriculum for the ADHD-types. I can see it now: “God, God, God, hey-let’s-go-ride-our-bikes, God, God.” OK, maybe not.

Anyway, gentle reader, thank you for your patience. I’ll try to come up for air more often as things settle into a new routine, with more or less loose coupling.

Now, where’d she put that key?