On the occasion of my oldest daughter's 22nd birthday, here is a shout-out of sorts...

Happy Birthday!


The Birthday Gal
Darling daughter, oh so pretty, living far off in the city,
Asked me to write something witty, witty for her birthday treat.
Asked me with her way disarming (she can be so very charming),
"Please, Dad, won't you write me something, something cool, but still discreet!"
So my poet's hat I'm wearing as I stare at this blank sheet,
What to write that's short but sweet?

I could write about her beauty, how the guys shout "Hiya, cutie!"
When she walks out on the street.  But I'd prob'ly be dead meat.
Though she surely likes attention, she might have some apprehension
If her looks I were to mention, mention that she looks so neat.
It might lead to my ascension, 'less I beat a fast retreat.
What to write and not get beat?

Maybe if I said she's brainy, comes up with ideas so zany
She could work for Vice-Prez Cheney, if her views weren't so... elite.
If she weren't so leftish leaning (and viewed him not so demeaning)
Guess she'll not pass White House screening 'till a Dem's in the hot seat.
She'll not work inside the system 'till regime change is complete.
It's too soon to walk that beat.

Perhaps talk of social graces, how she matches names to faces
Not the way my mind disgraces me when some old friend I meet.
She is always cool, collected, as each face is recollected.
('Twill be handy if elected, if she wins a Senate seat)
But such talk might be too boastful, might be seen as indiscreet.
What to write that's not conceit?

Oh, my mind's in such a tizzy, I am starting to feel dizzy
And my thoughts are getting whizzy, I must stop and plead defeat.
There is nothing that I can say that won't cause my daughter's dismay
There is sure to be hell to pay if these thoughts I start to bleat.
If I don't soon cease this bleating, if these thoughts I don't delete.
Me'thinks silence is discreet.



* In a format best known as that used in Edgar Allen Poe's "The Raven".
The rhyme scheme is ABCBBb DBEBBb ... where the B is trochaic octameter cataletic and the b is trochaic tetrameter cataletic and all other lines are trochaic tetrameter acataletic. Lots of internal rhyming.

To start with, T. Boone Pickens is not one of my favorite people.  I don't much like his politics.  I don't like a lot of things about him.  And also, obviously, he wants to make money off this plan.  I don't blame him.  I think alternative energy will be one of the driving economic forces of the next century.  But I also think his plan has some merit, and I also think anybody willing to seriously push wind energy in the U.S. should be taken seriously.  So, put your cynicism on hold for a few minutes, click on the image below and listen to what he has to say.  Let me know in the comments what you think, because I know you are all a bunch of smart people who may have different perspectives on this.

Frankly, the whole wordle meme seems a bit silly to me, but Mike and Crystal have nothing better to do, so here are the Wordles they created from their case files:

Mike Midas:



Crystal Coex:




If you have as little to do as they seem to, perhaps you'll enjoy these as well.

While I support Senator Obama in the U.S. Democratic race for President, I have long liked and supported Senator Clinton as well.  Unfortunately, Senator Clinton needs to realize that while it may be admirable to not quit before the race is over, it is just bad sportsmanship to refuse to concede when the race is lost.

Technorati tags: Politics

It has been a while since we updated the "official customized version" of FCKeditor which we use with CoexEdit, although a number of customers are using unofficial versions, but I have decided it is time to knuckle down and get FCKeditor 2.6 support ready for CoexEdit 2.1.  Stay tuned for further updates.

Technorati tags: CoexEdit

As a follow up on yesterday's post, imagine if Edward Lear or JRR Tolkien had written Robert Frost's iconic "The Road Not Taken".  Are there other famous poets or poems you would like me to try?


As if written by Edward Lear, in the style of "The Owl and the Pussycat"

I went to the forest and what did I find
   As each of the trees I went 'round?
I found lots of sticks, and an autumnal mix
   Of leaves upon the ground
The leaves were yellow and made me feel mellow
   As I walked along the path.
O lovely forest! O forest I love,
   What delightful appeal it hath,
      It hath,
      It hath!
   What delightful appeal it hath

Then 'long my side, I saw a divide
   Which split the path in two
The way was divided and I hadn't decided
   Exactly what to do.
I peered in the air with a petulant stare
   And tried to make some sense
Of this new distraction which demanded action
   'Twas no use straddlin' the fence
      The fence,
      The fence!
   'Twas no use straddlin' the fence

One way was worn, the grass practically shorn
   As if by sheep that graze
Yet I couldn't disguise to my unblinking eyes
   They both look well worn ways.
So I dillied and dallied and twiddled my thumbs
   And thought about what to do
Then I closed my eyes, picked a random prize
   And started off anew,
      Anew,
      Anew!
   I started off anew.

My indecision left no precision
   About the road I took.
But the one that I left often leaves me bereft
   And wondering was I mistook?
But I've travelled on, hither, thither and yon
   Now out of my terrible jam
Which road I took when I didn't dare look
   Led me to where I am,
      I am,
      I am!
   Led me to where I am.



As if written by J. R. R. Tolkien, in the style of "Far over the misty mountains cold"

Far from my home, in forest glade
To clearings deep within the shade
I must make haste, by manner chaste
To seek the path before me laid.

The leaves lie thick upon the road
While long I stand where once I strode
In manner proud my heart not cowed
I face the choice which fate bestowed.

The path ahead is split in two
And each with leaves of yellow hue
Is covered deep in untouched sleep.
It's long since each was touched by shoe.

One road I take from this day on
The die once cast, the cards once drawn
I'll not repeat, with weary feet
Or pass again this way anon.

Technorati tags: Writing