Betsy Devine: Funny ha-ha and/or funny peculiar

If you came here to watch me ding AccordionGuy aka Joey De Villa aka the guru of TuCows’ geek forum— wait for it.

First, a brief word on my non-sponsor, the group link blog called “del.icio.us.”

blogged it first

Haarlem and Utrecht.

lyrics, thanks to rojisan.

I was trying to remember the lyrics of “Found a Peanut.”

So I went online and found them–also the lyrics to such childhood classics as

• Peanut Sat on a Railroad Track,
• Do Your Ears Hang Low?
• Nobody Likes Me
• Three Bears in the Bed

Do not try this at home. You will waste hours and hours….

But, if you do–Mudcat Cafe collects not only kid
lyrics like “Dunderbeck” and “Sweet Violets” but a wide range of both
older and newer stuff–from “The Agincourt Carole” to “Friend of the
Fetus.”

December 11 is my birthday–hello, my fellow-fans of Joi Ito!

Giving you the full benefit of my (tomorrow) 57 years, let me give you more. Instead of telling you about life before television, seatbelts, and credit cards, let me take you back further–into the stories of three women from my childhood.

Aunt Jean, Aunt Harriet, and Aunt Martha weren’t really my aunts. They were single “career women” who formed a household. When the French-Canadian cook in that household suddenly found herself with an orphaned niece–a pretty ringleted baby, and I’m talking about an orphaning that happened back in 1918–these intrepid ladies adopted the little girl. (That was my mom, which is why they were my “aunts” too.)

Aunt Jean, Aunt Martha, and Aunt Harriet didn’t stay home to take care of their brand-new child. Heavens no! They were modern women of 1918! They earned money that supported a household that nurtured all of them, including the child. This worked out incredibly well for all of them.

“Aunt Jean” (Elizabeth Jordan) was my godmother–newspaperwoman, editor, author, general entrepreneur. She covered the Lizzie Borden trial, published Mark Twain, and dragged Henry James into her multi-author novel (pretty dreadful!)

“Aunt Harriet” (Mt. Holyoke, then Columbia) was a student and later a colleague of Melvil Dewey. “Aunt Martha” was the baby of the group–born in 1865. She went to Smith, then to Cooper Union, and did art and “interiors” all over Manhattan. (They were turquoise blue and a peachy sunset orange, to judge by the many art objects she left behind.)

When I was little, Aunt Martha and Aunt Harriet were still a big part of my life. They read me stories, took me for walks, introduced me to all their friends. For many blocks around the house they lived in, I knew I could knock on anybody’s door to find a friendly face and somebody to give me cookies.

Aunt Martha and Aunt Harriet would have loved email. Every morning they “answered letters” for hours. I remember their shocked complaint when the price of a postage stamp rose from 3 cents up to 4 cents.

I could tell you more–someday maybe I will! My point here is not that I knew and loved people born in the nineteenth-century.

My point is that the people in your own life may someday be loving memories from long ago. And–in honor of Betsy’s birthday, December 11–think about that.

I’m wishing a happy my-birthday to you, and to all the people you love.

If you want a job, there are two kinds of people to hire you.

Alpha people. And everybody else.

Alphas are company owners, entrepreneurs–people who really care how the story comes out. Alphas work hard to hire somebody great. Alphas care about what you can do, how smart you are, and how hard you work. If you can get hired by Alphas–you lucky dog!

Most job offers, alas, are made by Betas. (I’m being polite here–hot-tempered folks might call them “Human Resources.”) Betas have one, only one, question in their minds:

Could I maybe get in trouble by hiring this person?

Betas look for “the obvious candidate.” But that’s only secondary to the main thing they’re looking for–to avoid the “don’t-hire” candidate who could get them fired.

If you don’t have a job but hope to land one–don’t blog yourself into oblivion with the Betas:

• Don’t blog your drinking habits, pet peeves, relationship issues, etc. in a personal blog that’s on the first page of Google when Mr/Ms Beta types in your name.
• Don’t blog your drinking habits, pet peeves, relationship issues, etc. in a personal blog that’s linked to from a site on the first page of Google when Mr/Ms Beta types in your name.
• Hey–limit yourself to corporate/geeky stuff on any page linked to from Google results for your name.

In a just universe, everybody would hire like Alphas. In the *current* Bush recession–hey, have some compassion for Betas scared for their jobs!

If you’re smart enough that an Alpha should hire you–take only a tiny step more. Be smart enough not to scare away the Betas.

One of my favorite jokes, hope it cheers you up after reading this post:

There are two kinds of people in the world, they say.
Those who think there are two kinds of people–and those who don’t.

Two feet of snow fell on New England this weekend and everything looks so different. Even branches against the sky are just white-on-gray.

A snowfall like this redraws lines between people too. Neighbors who never see each other share coffee after digging their cars out of the same snowplow lump. Later on, if one “steals” the parking space dug by the other….

But right now, we all get a chance to rebuild connections in a world that looks full of strange possibilities.

After one NH blizzard, my mom’s neighbors gathered like a posse to dig a path from the road to her front door. So, instead of being in the house worrying, she was in there baking a *lot* of banana bread.

My dog Marianne has always loved snow. (I imagine the West Highlands have a lot of it.) In a blizzard like this, I tuck her under my arm like a fuzzy football until we find someplace where she can stand up. She races and woofs and makes doggy snow angels. She’s no longer fourteen years old–she’s back in her puppyhood. And I brought her one of her very favorite toys, one she’s been missing.

In her doggy mind, I’m the one who made all this snow. And I did it for her, just because it would make her happy.

Incredible snow.

I was supposed to drive to VT Saturday to join Halley in visiting Dean HQ. No such luck. Halley, who drove up Friday, has been partying with Doc Searls and Britt Blaser and is still blizzarded in up there Sunday partying some more.

Thank goodness I had this description of Dean HQ from David Weinberger to make me feel almost as if I were there.

On the positive side, Scott Johnson of Feedster just revived his personal FuzzyBlog. I nostalgically kept the old FuzzyBlog in my blogroll for months after it stopped getting updated. Now it’s back!

Anyone who doubts Scott has enough great ideas to run two fine blogs–well, you just doesn’t know Scott.

• Item: His BloggerCon explanation of “the blogger’s condom.”
• Item: Should Feedster index Yahoo groups?
• Item: Shower context stupidity.
• Item:
  Betsy Devine: Hey, did you hear about this spam event at MIT?
  
  Betsy Devine: http://dev.r.tucows.com/blog/_archives/2003/12/1/7834.html
  
  Scott Johnson: nope but I went last year. I’ll go again.
  
  Betsy Devine: sounds like fun.
  
  Scott Johnson: signed up. thx.
  
  Scott Johnson: best comment from last year
  
  Scott Johnson: “Look at all the really smart people in this room.
  
  Scott Johnson: Then consider that your profession is blocking penis enlargement ads”
  
  Betsy Devine: Yes!
  
  Betsy Devine: OK if I blog you saying that?
  
  Scott Johnson: Yep
  
  Scott Johnson: that’s not exact, exact but damn ass close.

If the snow keeps falling, at least we’ll have both blogs to read.

Exciting news from the world of serious science! Biologists have linked a mysterious, underwater sound–“like a high-pitched raspberry” said one–to bubbles coming out of a herring’s anus.

Teenagers of both sexes are re-planning their careers as a result. Who wants to become a boring billionaire banker when a life in science means you get to talk about your research on “FRT”? (That’s what scientists are calling the sound. It’s an acronym for “Fast Repetitive Tick.” )

Tell your friends, and don’t forget to point them to where they can actually hear herring FRT-ing.

If you see a red herring? The chances are he’s blushing.

I found this important news item thanks to Wayne of “The Right Perspective”. I can’t improve on his final analysis:

Scientists speculate that the reason they do this, which is mainly at night, is to communicate with each other. The question begs to be asked, “What are they saying?”

A man in Topeka, Kansas, decided to write a book about churches around the world. He started by flying to San Francisco, and working east from there. Going to a very large church, he began taking photographs and making notes. He spotted a golden telephone on the vestibule wall and was intrigued with a sign which read ” $10,000 a minute.”

Seeking out the pastor he asked about the phone and the sign. The pastor said this golden phone is, in fact, a direct line to Heaven and if he pays he can talk directly to God. The man thanked the pastor and continued on his way.

As he continued to visit churches in Seattle, Virginia, Michigan, Chicago, Milwaukee, and all around the World, he found more phones, with the same sign, and the same answer from each pastor.

Finally, he arrived in Ireland. Upon entering a church in Dublin, behold, he saw the usual golden telephone. But THIS time, the sign read “Calls: 35 cents.”

Fascinated, he asked to talk to the pastor. “Father, I have been in cities all across the world and in each church I have found this golden telephone and have been told it is a direct line to Heaven and that I could talk to God, but, in the other churches the cost was $10,000 a minute. Your sign reads 35 cents a call. Why?

The pastor, smiling benignly, replied, “Son, you’re in Ireland now….it’s a local call.”

Can you guess that my wonderful brother Kevin just sent this? Others of his I’ve posted: Louisiana ghost story and virus warning.