Friday, January 26, 2001
MICHAEL SPAMS EVERYONE!
MAKES ASS OF SELF
REPRISALS IMMINENT
Well, I don't know how to begin to grovel for last week's extreme breach
of netiquette on my part. Suffice it to say, in the words of Jack
Nicholson: "Well, don't I feel like the #%@$&*' @$$&*!#." [If you're
reading this in the year 2005 (when all this will be funny): Basically,
I accidentally sent like eight test messages to the whole dispatch
list—somewhat off-color test messages.]
<technical explanation for anyone who cares>
Basically, the way my web-based posting script works is, it serves up a
form on the first go round; you enter the subject and message body; then
submit the form—back to itself. On the second go-round, it detects
the post args, and does the whole d/b query and mailing function. I
made a copy of the file—and I was so paranoid about accidentally
posting my test messages to the list that I actually ripped all the
database code out of my copy, so it couldn't even theoretically
access the addresses on the dispatch list. What I managed to miss, was
the action tag of the form—that's right, it was still set to
post to the original version of the script—which happily
accepted my test messages and sent them all right along. This was so
stupid that, well, I won't even belabor it.
</technical explanation for anyone who cares>
Well, my big accomplishment for the week was producing, for my fellow
travelers, guides for Survival Italian, Survival Greek, and Survival Turkish. Why the heck am I posting them
here? Well, as alluded to above, this site will pretty much be here
permanently. And, it just might happen that, oh, five years from
now, you will find yourself called away on a moment's notice to a remote
corner of Turkey. And you'll think to yourself, "Damn! Where I can I
pick up a few words of Turkish—and fast! Ah—michaelfuchs.org
to the rescue!" Well, it could happen. But, barring that, I am at
least contributing to the world library. Probably sooner than we'd
guess, somebody will do a web search for "Survival Turkish," and end up
here.
In the pre-trip group e-mail department: Sara nails me—in her
inimitable manner, and as only one of my sisters could—dead to
rights:
From Sara Fuchs
To: fuchs@michaelfuchs.org, pitely@MARYWOOD1.MARYWOOD.EDU
Cc: fuchs@ies.ac.at, homonculous@mindspring.com
Date: Wed, 24 Jan 2001 14:53:11 -0600
Having traveled with Michael in the past, I think he gets off on the
documentation of said travels, more than the actual travels themselves.
He also likes to casually mention the time he drove the length of
Mexico to Belize and Guatemala, faithful sister in tow. And the howler
monkeys. Don't forget the howler monkeys.
Just make sure he takes his head out of the powerbook long enough to
admire the scenery.
There have also been a few discussions about pre-trip
jitters/misgivings. I for one have been having a repeating internal
dialogue that goes something like this: "What the fork are you
thinking—gallavanting around Europe spending a damn fortune, when
you're sitting on the cusp of imminent unemployment?" (Unemployment is
imminent because I can't see a whole lot more time passing before a) I
can't deal with Netfish anymore, b) Netfish can't deal with me anymore,
or c) Netfish can no longer maintain our burn rate of $4 million/month
and closes its doors.) Am I really doing a good job of thinking about,
and preparing for, my future?"
This tape was playing a couple of nights
ago as I made my way home from my daily frapuccino pilgrimmage to
Starbucks. Then, as I ambled along, crossing the street—I
suddenly remembered that I could get hit by a truck doing this. Or my
headache from last night could turn out to be a brain tumor—finishing
me off in six weeks. I mean, I don't mean to be gruesome. But wouldn't
I just feel silly having assiduously maxed out my 401K contributions if
this is my last night on Earth?
Also on that walk home, I ducked into Borders. Before you energetically berate
me for patronizing Starbucks and Borders (or "Starbooks" as it's
sometimes called): I wasn't there to buy anything (particulary not
their copy of, I swear to God, Italy for Dummies)—merely
to browse through some Rome guides, for free. Last weekend, I went in to
have a look at some Greece and Turkey guides. Now, Greece and Turkey are
not my problems on this particular trip. Matt is the Greece & Turkey
guy; making all logistical arrangements, and serving as tour guide when
we get there. So, I don't really need to buy any books—nor could I
really carry any more, on top of my Vienna, Prague, Budapest, and Italy
books, and numerous language references.
However, there's a lot to be
said for at least doing a little homework—seeing what you're
in for, figuring out what you really want to see, getting excited. In
particular, without books, you sometimes forget a few minor sights.
For instance: Greece has this little Mt. Olympus thingy. They've
also got the fields of Marathon, located conveniently—and
spectacularly intuitively—42km (26 miles) from Athens. Sparta's
also pretty nearby. Rome has got this Pantheon thing—which I
understand to be a very faithful, times-two scale reproduction of Mr.
Jefferson's Rotunda at the heart of the University of Virginia.
On that note, I'm out of here for the week. Thanks again for reading.
And, once again, I am really sorry about the mail-bombing. I'd
promise that it will never happen again, but I would have said with
complete confidence that it wouldn't have happened in the first place .
. . Ciao, and have a great weekend.
Michael
