Ahhhh, for once I can blame my lack of updating on something other than my own lethargy. Unfortunately, this time it was my own stupidity that was to blame. Viruses and worms had finally completely ravaged my system to a point that my only choice was to put place my computer in the shop for a couple of days. And yes, it was absolutely, totally and unequivocally my own fault. My anti-virus software had expired and I had not reregistered. Also, I had too much faith in my free anti-spy software (free means suck) AND neglected to update my Microsoft updates. Needless to say, the computer was in quite an ugly state.

Three days without internet access was far more horrible for me than I had imagined.
“Should I go out and buy a newspaper?” I thought to my self, “Why bother, that data is like, so over 12 hours old. Should I watch television news? Do they still broadcast television news? If they do, at one time? How do I turn on my television?”

And the lack of data left me with some other questions:

“What the hell is going on in the world right now?”
“Did Great Britain sink into Atlantic? Maybe.”
“Did our Government decide that the best solution to the Iraqi problem was to reinstate Hussein as leader? Maybe”
“Did that Matrix fella go through with that sex change?”

My reintroduction to broadcast television opened even more questions:

“Is this 10.5 thing a miniseries or live news broadcasting? I can’t tell the difference anymore.”
“Ricki Lake is still on television?”
“Why is Conan O’Brian’s nephew on the talk show junket singing Frank Sinatra songs?”

Feeling my pain, a friend volunteered to go along with my on Sunday night for a night shooting session. At the last minute he called me and said they were predicting bad rain that night. I assured him that the storms would quickly blow through and we would be left with clear skies and wet streets … perfect shooting conditions. After all, I knew, I was watching the little ticker tape under Bart Simpson’s ass on the newly discovered television thing. I insisted he meet up with me at the bar and wait for the storm to blow through.

So we sat at the bar, looking out the plate glass window at what could be best described as a fusion of urban landscape and a Winslow Homer painting. He seemed doubtful, but I kept assuring him, “trust me.”

Of course, I was wrong.

Had I had access to weather.com’s streaming weather maps, I would have known better.