Frankly, I'm a bit disappointed. I mean, all that anticipation, and then, ffmf. Nothing. The power could have at least gone out, but noooooo. Oh, well. Even Russia didn't have problems, as the only thing that was apparently not Y2k compliant was Yeltsin's government. And over here, the only Y2k problems were in Microsoft, who apparently did nothing about them in a bid to get people to upgrade their old copies of Microsoft Excel, etc. Oh, and Hotmail apparently had trouble. Try not to look surprised.
In other news, I've been off on Christmas vacation. So, in the grand tradition of... er... something or other, I will now recount the glories of the Christmas Vacation, in short, highlight form.
Automatic Nerf Weaponry. What more can we say? The 'Nerf Wildfire' is truly a work of pure, inspired genius. It's a pneumatic automatic, which is to say you pump up an air reservoir and it then is capable of fully automatic fire, discharging it's 20 dart rotary magazine in a dazzling display of Nerfy goodness. Two of my cousins got them (two of my many, many cousins, who were encountered at various points in the Christmas Vacation) and one of them was claimed in the name of the Spanish Empire, and used to wreak havoc all across the land.
Galaxy Quest. In an effort to not be driven mad by the easy-going relaxation of the area of North Carolina we were in, I, my sister, and Gina (who was down from New Jersey, lured by my high Charisma attribute and the fact that otherwise she'd have to go to Vermont) fled to a theatre to take in Galaxy Quest. It was a glorious spoof on the conventions of science fantasy ("Why are these choppy things here?! There's no reason for them to be here! They make NO SENSE! Aaaargh! Whoever wrote this episode needs to DIE!") and Trekkies in general, while managing to be a Star Trek movie o' wackiness in its own right (being as it was just Star Trek with the serial numbers filed off, and all). Heck, it was better than some of the actual Star Trek movies. It certainly wasn't any wackier than the one where they blew up God. If you haven't seen it, g'wan, go do it. ("What should we do...?" "Hit it with a rock and EAT it.")
The Symbolic Wok. One of the gifts I received was a big ol' electric wok, because everyone needs a big ol' electric wok. However, I did not receive it in one piece. This bears some explaining. See, I and my parents live in Florida. Both sets of my grandparents live in North Carolina. This creates some interesting logistical problems, in that often, gifts are bought in one place but must be presented in another. Such was the Wok, which was much too big to tote along. So it was toted in a piece or two, to symbolize Wok-ness. Only one piece of the Wok was supposed to be brought along, but apparently at one point there was a bit of confusion, which resulted in several bits of Wok being brought along. Which, in turn, created amusement. ("Hmm... it's... a symbolic piece of a Wok. And this next one is... aha! Another symbolic piece of a Wok!") I was half expecting to be given the entire thing in small, bite-sized chunks, which I would then have to re-assemble. It's a neat idea, when you think about it.
The 'Total World Domination' t-shirt. Pretty much 'nuff said, there. You can't go wrong with it. Give the gift that keeps on giving - give the gift of total world domination.
Also to be included in the highlights reel is the Biltmore House, which is in Asheville, and which a passel of the family went to see, because we were in Asheville and there's not a lot to do there, besides remark about how clear the sky is. The Biltmore House pretty much lives up to its concept, ie, the modern-day castle. It's opulent, it's... well, opulent, it has toilets that flush (or, rather, that flushed at one point during it's operation), which was a rather cool thing in those days, and it's got the three-floor, wrought-iron chandelier, and... It's the kind of place you expect an old-style evil villain to have, what with all those stairs and stuff for sword-fighting on. It's not the kind of place you'd like to live in, because you'd be afraid to touch anything for fear of breaking it and destroying a priceless bit of world history. Napoleon's chess set? 16th century tapestries? Egads! It had a whopping great library, too. First, you enter the small, living room sized antechamber, with comfy chairs and walls made of bookshelves filled with books. Then you enter the REAL library, which had two floors, a neat spiral staircase, and more books than you could shake a stick at. Neato.
Speaking of books, Christmas vacation gave me the chance to read a few.
First was _The Dilbert Future_ by Scott Adams, in which he makes various predicitions about the future, most of which have already been proven wrong. Like thinking that ISDN would be a hit. Ha, ha! Yeah, right. However, most of it is surly and amusing, and as that's the kind of thing I aspire to, I must therefore approve. However... However, at the end, he gets metaphysical. I don't know why everyone always gets metaphysical. I mean, it's not like it hasn't already been done. Specifically, ol' Scott describes a system for self-actualization (apparently being mostly serious while he does it) which he termed Affirmations. This, of course, immediately made me think of the old Saturday Night Live skit 'Daily Affirmations with Stuart Smalley', which then left me unable to take anything else in this section seriously. As described by Mr. Adams, 'Affirmations' apparently involves writing down, every morning, precisely what you want to have happen, and then eventually it will. Maybe concentration is involved, too. Now, amusing as this is, there might be something to it, within limits. It might be the equivalent of giving your subconsious (which tends to go cheerfully bounding around without purpose, occasionally belching up flashes of insight) something specific to chew on. Or, it might be complete crap. Because this would only work for gaining information, whereas the suggestion Mr. Adams seems to be making is that apparently you can, by this method, change things around you simply by exertion of will. Which is, of course, complete crap. First off, if I could change the world by sheer force of will, I'd have won the lottery a long time ago. And second, if I could change the world by sheer force of will, the very last thing I would do is to tell people about it. I mean, geez. Anyway, when Scott Adams starts getting metaphysical, metaphysics is Officially Getting Really Damn Old.
Next up was First Lensman by E.E. 'Doc' Smith. It was written in the 50's (or was it 40's?), and thus, chock-full of pulpy goodness. Travel back to a time when men were Real Men, women were Real Women, and computers ran on punch cards (or, if they were REALLY advanced, tape!). A time when the concept that women didn't all wear skirts actually bore mentioning as an important thing. Wow! They're wearing PANTS!
And, lastly, Ancient Light by Mary Gentle. I think I'm beginning to see why Mary Gentle isn't more reknowned. Grunts was just ill focused, and this one is... well, it's more world-building, and despite the fact that she just sort of dives right in (this was a sequel to an earlier book, Witchbreed, which was a first-contact story) without spending too much time immediately explaining who everyone is, it was fairly easy to pick up. However, the story involves those wacky humans mucking about in alien affairs, restrained by a directive against cultural contamination (bit late for that, eh?) but generally acting with the best of intentions, or, at least the best possible intentions in a generally bad situation. The protagonist is occasionally wrong, the humans, while they have military force available, keep their hands tied about it until it's too late to do any good, and in the end, the good guys lose. Totally. Whups! Maybe the author just didn't like writing sequels...
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