Looking north from the tenth floor of Wolverine Tower in Ann Arbit, MI.
Blog
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links for 2009-02-07
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Convert a log from one type to another, such as a Microsoft Windows NT 4.0 log to a Windows XP log, or a binary log file (.blg) to a comma-separated values (.csv) file.
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Robot Chicken, Star Trek 2, The Opera
The Awesome, this has much of it.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xW2-MrHNJSE&w=425&h=344]
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In the event of light posting…
Be sure to check out my Google Reader Shared Items. That page has many of the posts I share, along with the occasional comment from yours truly. I post a lot more stuff to that link than the main page, so I encourage you to subscribe/bookmark/monitor that URL along with this fabulous page.
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Confessions of a Closet Singer
I can, sort of, sing. By “sort of”, I mean that I can hit notes with some accuracy within a fairly limited range. I can, sort of, do falsetto. I can add vibrato, if it’s in my very limited range. Basically, I can sing anything baritone as long as it doesn’t require, yah know, strength.
I have surprising power in the mid ranges. Ok, surprising to someone who doesn’t or can’t sing; not so surprising if you nailed lead on your high school Into The Woods audition. In a different vein, I have Open Mic Power; I can belt out that pop hit from the 90’s like no one’s business.
The unfortunate consequence of this is: I think I can sing. And I can’t. I mean, I enjoy singing and nothing will really stop me from doing so. Well, accept an audience. I sing in the car, the den, when I think no one’s listening. But I don’t seek out venues to sing anymore.
To top it off, I’m a friggen prude about it too. I won’t sing karaoke, I won’t belt out in a public event with religious music (funerals or weddings), I don’t even attempt anything atonal. I’m not A Singer, but I like to sing. I’m the singer in the closet, the shower crooner, a Pocket Elvis. (OK, maybe not Elvis… I can’t dance.)
But I want to sing. It’s seriously a bad thing. I think I can, I’ve heard that I can. I actually know that I can, in limited capacities (Kalamazoo ’98 Open Mic!) But that was a decade and a lifetime ago.
Does that make me old, sad… both?
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Em, come back
Guy Adams from The Independent tracks down Eminem (aka Marshall Mathers). A classic rise and fall story, but one that needs one more chapter. Come back, Slim, if not for yourself, then for Detroit. Lord knows that city needs a voice again.
