Trials and Transfers, Part 1: Onto You Going There

The following occurred yesterday.

I'm trying to do a backup of my laptop because my 500 GB MyBook Essential Edition External Hard Drive is out of commission; so in effect, I currently have no backup. I'll go in fast format:

7:30 AM. Got working on repairing the MyBook.
10:30 AM. I finish trying to fix the MyBook. I took it apart (quite an interesting and quite-obvious-it-was-taken-apart process) and attempted many other fixes. The problem may be the housing, so I need to put the drive itself into a desktop, but our desktop doesn't have the correct connector. I shelved the project.
11:30 AM. After taking a break, I go to get the 30 GB hard drive which Mr. dataDyne gave me. What a lifesaving, serendipitous thing this is! I declared inwardly. That man's a saint, I thought.

Come to find out, he didn't give me the power cord for it. Which is fine because 1) they're so common that we actually have two, except that both are in use by the wireless Internet system, and 2) it's actually a dandy 60-GB hard drive, not a 30. SUCKER! AHA HA HAH HA!

11:40 AM. I install the 60-GB drive into my old 80-GB drive's external housing. It works like a charm. In the process, I found our jeweler's screwdriver things. I lost my USB mouse connector. I found my USB mouse connector (thanks, mom!).
11:45 AM. I decide to try to set up a wireless connection between my mom's job's Vista and my XP. It works but I don't know how to configure it. I give up and go to the 60-GB hard drive idea.

Problem, I have 80-100 GB worth of material. (The drive is only 60 GB. Keep up, humble fool.) Therefore, I determine to store a backup consisting of two parts on my mom's laptop. Thus I need The Beachhead and The Lodgement- two separate folders that can quickly be dropped into a new computer if the need arises. Now, I call this a backup. It's quite brutish, and not as refined as the whole "backup everything including operating system" idea. But since I'm working with a 60-GB and not a roomy 500-GB, I got to make dues. Due.

1:56 PM. I finish Beachhead Party, consisting of Desktop, Masters, and the My Documents folder (which only has My Music and My Pictures along with 20 text/.pdf documents). Roughly 45 GB. I'll see if it transfers onto the 60-GB drive and transfer it there in three parts.
3:30 PM. Transfer of Beachhead to 60-GB drive complete.
3:35 PM. Beginning transfer of Beachhead to mom's laptop.
Somewhere around 4:50 PM. Transfer of Beachhead Party to mom's laptop complete.
4:58 PM. I discover that there are 25 GB of games on my laptop; and 50 GB of files; thus there are roughly 60 GB missing.
5:10 PM. I discover that the WinXP operating system does not take up 60 GB of space. I am confounded and cannot locate the missing files.
5:15 PM. I realize that Beachhead party is taking up an additional unneeded 50 GB of space because it's copied and still on my desktop, therefore I'm missing only 10 GB. WinXP supposedly takes about 2. I seek the remaining 8 GB. (The recovery partition is 12 GB on its own partition.) Temp files are currently taking 2 GB. The rest I don't care about, or at least I don't think I do.
5:20 PM. I make sure that my History folder is backed up. I still wonder if there's a standalone history operating program.
5:25 PM. I declare the backup completed.

And that's how I backup a laptop.

Vote the Arm Cannon #1

OK, Samus Aran is up for voting at Gamefaqs.com. But only for today. So go vote if you haven't already.

No registration required. Vote the Arm Cannon and make your country- and your God- proud. Link: http://www.gamefaqs.com/

Remember, there is always a poll on Gamefaqs.com. So tomorrow there will be different options.

What I mean by this is that if you are viewing this poll at a later date than today, it could be "Will You Buy a Wii60, WiiPS3, or PS360?" and you will not be able to find Samus Aran as an option and I don't want you wasting your time. So this is like, time sensitive, so don't be stupid, alright?

Alright.

"Time to make the Flags"

A week ago, we got an order from a client requesting some flags. I made them a few days ago. I didn't put two and two together, but it was nearing 9/11, which is probably why they requested them. Thus I figure this should be my post for 9/11. They're simple to make; ready?

First things first, get your flag material, which is sold in yards. Then you cut the flags out of it. Then you go find yourself a 2x4...


Like this one! It's an 8-footer...can you see the black dot on my ring finger? Mr. dataDyne, my ally in the guitar faith, asked me about that yesterday. I said, "Well, each week, I put a black dot on the finger that has the toughest guitar callous. That makes the others want to do better, just like gold stars for little kids."

He said, "You really are quite mad." I said, "Oh, yeah? Well, since I started doing it, my pinkie is developing a callous. Can't argue with results."

Anyways, then you cut it into what could be called flag poles.

Yay. Ignore the dead dog (it isn't really dead) in the background, there, and get yourself a stapler.

And lots of staples. Then start stapling the flags (these are not full sized flags, if you can't tell) to the poles. It should look like this:


Hey, look at that...we're done. The poles are 18 inches tall, so that should give you an idea of how big the flags are. The next step is to stack them 5 high and 8 across, and bind them with wire. Then you wrap them in plastic wrap, and they're ready to be sold.


See, that was easy. Now go forth and make flags, humble fools. Go forth and make flags.

I Really Don't Want To

Job 16:2 KJV I have heard many such things: miserable comforters are ye all.
\
Eph 4:17 KJV This I say therefore, and testify in the Lord, that ye henceforth walk not as other Gentiles walk, in the vanity of their mind,

Rom 7:18 KJV For I know that in me (that is, in my flesh,) dwelleth no good thing: for to will is present with me; but how to perform that which is good I find not.

Rom 7:23 KJV But I see another law in my members, warring against the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin which is in my members.

Rom 6:16 KJV Know ye not, that to whom ye yield yourselves servants to obey, his servants ye are to whom ye obey; whether of sin unto death, or of obedience unto righteousness?

Col 2:18 KJV Let no man beguile you of your reward in a voluntary humility and worshipping of angels, intruding into those things which he hath not seen, vainly puffed up by his fleshly mind,


Job 16:2 KJV I have heard many such things: miserable comforters are ye all.



I Really Don't Want To...but my three miserable friends say, "Do it."

Echo Box #2: What Ducts Are Made Of

Act II

Hi, Rach!


Time to continue. By "ducts" I mean air conditioning ducts. And they are made of sheet metal. We begin by putting a sheet of metal into the shear. It shears the metal.


Then we took that piece that we cut off and marked it. Then we took it back to the shear.


And this is what we get for our laboring:


Now we take those to the break. The break bends the sheet metal. It's hard to explain, but it's a very necessary tool.


And we are left with this. Isn't it pretty? If you look, you can see the "cross-break," which adds strength to the metal. It's most visible near to the point. It's actually a double cross-break.

Remember that paper I made in the first post so that Echo wouldn't know what I was up to?


It fits! Good. Yeah, sure, I kept it a secret from my guitar. I thought he would be able to tell, y'know. Then I read 1 Cor. 2:11 and now I don't think Echo can understand what I'm doing.

Alright, now to make the sides. Take a strip of metal. Hey, look...you can see the cross-break/cross-brace really good now.


Then you mark said piece of metal, like thus...


Then you bend it up and it should look like this:


Now dry-fit the pieces to make sure they fit.


Good, they do. Now to get the point piece done. Get a small piece of metal...


And mark it up. See the icepick-looking thing? That's called a scribe or a scratch awl. You scribe the metal with it. Then you cut or bend the metal. But we'll be breaking this piece into...


Duh duh duhh! The point piece. Here's the other side.


Then we made the end piece for the non-point end. I won't show that, because you already know how it goes. So now it's time to rivet it together.


We used washers to make it extra strong:


Yes! Here it is with the two sides on:


And then the point piece...


Then we attach the back piece, and here it is:


Act II is complete. The next part is cool, but tedious.



Act I: 4.5 hours, designing the case and measuring Echo.
Act II: 6.5 hours total: 3.5 hours to make the sides and the bottom; 3 hours to make the front and end piece.

Echo Box #1: In The Beginning...

I received all kinds of flak. "Kev, you're stupid. Get a hard case. Your guitar isn't safe in a soft case. If you love your guitar, you'll do it." I stood fast, not having my morals or manner corrupted by they who claimed to be my friends. Job 2:9-10. I lived it. Except it was my friends. I have no wife.

I faced the humiliation of playing a song at a wedding out of a gig bag. I endured more than five months of literally seat-belting Echo into the back seat of the car because I was afraid he would get injured in a crash. Every latching of the seatbelt was a labor of love, a badge of honor.


Is a man not entitled to buy a guitar case?

Yes, says the man in Washington. It's good for the poor.
Yes, says the man in the Vatican. It's good for God.
Yes, says the man in Moscow. It's good for everyone.

I rejected those answers. Instead, I chose something different.
I chose the impossible.
I chose...

TO MAKE MY OWN.

Act I

I began by designing it. I will spare you most of the details; I searched for pictures of guitar cases, finding different designs and different ideas. I went with what I had previously planned.

I begin the actual work by putting together three pieces of paper with double-sided sticky tape. I didn't get pictures of that, but the below picture should give you the idea.


I put dots on the paper around Echo so that I'd have an idea how much space he needs. Then I marked the paper, and cut it out.

That's a dandy electric scissor. It works well. OK, here it is!


Ta-da! That is the shape of the box. I like it. So, I measured that paper to let me know the dimensions of the finished box. I wrote them down, then I folded it up.


And so the designing was done. See you at post #2. The next part gets fun, boys and girls.

It gets real fun.

Ya'll Kev's Mom Says: Ya'll Knife Dull Ya'll!

You'll excuse my Southern. What I meant was, "Mom says: This knife is dull." I knew it was getting dull, I just didn't "carve" out some time to sharpen it. Get it? Carve? Never mind. It's knife humor, you wouldn't get it.

Alright, here's the knife. And the kit. I use a DMT Aligner, which I got for my 16th birthday, the best birthday ever. I keep a little glass around to get water from when necessary.


I'm slowly trying to get it to my parents: Black knife is for meat, red knife is for vegetables. And I'm slowly trying to get it to my dad: Steel is not an expedient cutting surface.

OK, I always begin by taking the black marker and marking the blade of the knife, like so:


Next, I clip on the angle-guide. Yes, I use an angle-guide. Wanna fight about it?


And then the stone-holder. Did I mention I use DMT? They say diamonds are forever.


OK. Now I have to determine just what angle I last set the blade at- that's the purpose of marking the blade black. So that I can see when the stone is at the right angle to grind the ink off. Of course, you can always make a new angle. I kept this one at 14 degrees.

Now start a-sharpening. You can find information on that here: ION: Cows, Sharpening, Shaving, and Shrimp. To sum it up, I am going to begin this knife with the 325-mesh stone, and finish it with the 1,200-mesh stone.

If you look closely, you can see the difference between the 325-mesh (blue) and the 1,200-mesh (green).


So start sharpening...hey, we're done! Time sure does fly when you're not actually bound by it. In the end, it's all worth it:



Sharpened knives make me happy. The poor avocado pit never saw it coming.

It went like this: There was a claw machine, and a nonfunctional headlight...

Hi, Manny Hitman! Hi, Lisa dataDyne!


So, yesterday, I went to Bible study, like I normally do. I was late. My mom had to get a new tire for the Pathy. It was about to esplode. BOOM, it would have went, and we would be glorified.

Speaking of getting glorified, I'll make that post sometime soon. I almost got ran down [several days ago]. Satan stuck his fingernail out, and I think the Lord clipped it when he saw that the Satan's Fingernail was heading for to touch me. I heard a horrible, howling, demonic scream, and the next thing I knew the vehicle stopped.


Back to current time. I know you are all slow dimwits, so when I talk about past and present, I try to distinctificate. That may or may not be a word. Anyways, I was on my way home, but we stopped at the Local Restaurant That Has A Claw Machine. I love claw machines. But I can't always play them. I am 18. Paul goes on and on about how you're not supposed to play claw machines- you should hear Pastor drone about it.

Regardless, there I was. Sitting in that old familiar room, full of temptation. "Quit you playing the claw machine like men, be strong." "When I was a child, I played claw machines, I got the toys from the claw machines, and I spent money on the claw machines: but when I became a man, I put away claw machines." "Therefore there is now no condemnation, except for playing the claw machines: this is the second death." Paul goes on and on about it, but Pastor never mentions the verses...

Pastor, dataDyne, and The Hitman were there. I couldn't take it any longer. I got up and approached the machine. Two dollars and a kindly donation of $1.25 from The Hitman later, I had myself a kingly prize!



N0\/\/ 1 f33| |1|<3 5p34|<1n9 1337. Sorry. I've been...I've been IM'ing lately.

Then reality dropped from the ceiling like a rusty spoon. (Hi, Debbie!) I remembered that the headlight was out on the passenger side. That meant I had to go through this again: Kev Gets Pulled Over By Five Polices Cars And Trucks; Police Grip Guns Warily.

With the help of all three other men, we managed to get the light out and determined that it, in fact, did not work. The parts store was closed. I live in the country: the common belief is that city stores are all 24/7. Darn country rumor-mills.

Now to the drive home. I passed three police cars, all chillin' in a lot waiting for to pull me over. When it comes to cunning craftiness, I think I'm about equal to Manny, but with crafty cunners, it's hard to tell just what level of cunning craftiness they possess. It's kind of like the hyperbole surrounding ninjas, just instead of killing, it's manipulation. Unless they're a good crafty cunner. But those are rare. It takes a pure heart, like, a Master Sword-class pure heart. No Ganondorfs.


I drove on, waiting, cunningly crafting myself a plan to get out of this mess. Mr. dataDyne had told me that if I get pulled over, turn on the dome lights. He said that it's like catnip for law-bearers. I don't know if he meant that it drives them nuts, or...

Regardless, none followed.


10 more miles to go. They could have caught up anytime...a few cars flew up doing 75 or 80, but no police. I was 500 feet from turning off of the highway when a car flew up beside me and passed me, then slowed down, and turned its lights on. Flashy-flash, they went.

Luckily, he was pulling someone else over. I don't know how it happened.


All I know is that Satan's fingernail must not have grown back yet.

Robber Bird and a Sunset

Yesterday, me and my dad did some work for some acquaintances of ours. I mercilessly and efficiently disassembled in a violent way a counter that was probably worth $800 and is now scrap.

It was built on-site into the wall, so it would have cost just as much to move it as it would have to hire the mob to burn the place down. I went to a Burning recently in the middle of a crowd of very dry, extremely tall trees. It was great...muahahaha!

On the way home my mom had us pick up a copy of Quicken - she lost her 2001 version disc. It was on sale for $40 from $60.


On the way home, I saw an EAGLE. But it wasn't an eagle, it was a robber bird - looking like an eagle is their primary defense. I don't know what they're actually called but I am calling it a robber bird, and if you want to fight about it, meet me at the Eastern Stairs tonight.


Here it is on a telephone pole. It was "chillin'." LOL!

There it is at the top. And there's my enemy...the ever-watchful Sun.

Below, you can see it flying away.


Now that I think about it, it wasn't that funny to say that it was chillin'. Sorry.

Here it is sitting on another pole. We chased it down. "Oh, great, they're back." See what's in its talons?

Tis a fish. Where it got a fish around here, I don't know, so I must assume it robbed from someone, thus its name, Robber Bird. We have no lakes or ponds, just a picture of The Grapes of Wrath that's a mile high and about 800 miles around, encompassing us. I'm so dramatic.

Anyways, then I got a picture of a sunset. Pink sunsets are my favorite, but not all of them look good, and even less come out in picture form. For some reason, the search "pink sunset" only brings up the post: Bad picture or bad NightShot? I took a video of a pink sunset in it.


I like how the whole sky has shades of pink around it.


Well, now it's turning orange. That's OK, because orange is a primary color of The Hatchling, but orange sunsets aren't as awenem as pink ones. (For you new fools, awenem is the base, concentrated source from which awesome is derived. It's like awenem is the syrup, and awesome is made by adding the carbonated water, in soda terms. Thus the term, "raw base awenem.")

Time to go. I have calculating to do.

Water water water and Beef beef beef

I had a rather busy day today. I had to get water; we were down to around 650 gallons. I got four loads in the "hottest part of the day." My dad has it all figured out: 9-11 AM is the hottest part of the day, except 4-5 PM, which is the hottest part of the day. So...you figure out when the hottest part of the day is.



Water. It does a body- and a brain- good. After that, I cleaned my brother's room. He wasn't too mad about that. He did threaten to kill me, though. I know, I know!...but I can't kill him, he's too strong! he breathed in Gollum-like fashion.



Also, yesterday, I got a wild idea that I'd make beef jerky. I always use Alton Brown's recipe...it can be varied easily enough. However, his box-fan idea is not good at all. It might work, but it fails miserably for me.


So I use a store-bought dehydrator. They're all that and a bag of chips. The problem I encounter is that if the jerky is dried at a high temperature, the end product is low quality; it gets all oily and dried up (but in a bad, crispy, sharp way).

I happily found a workaround for this. I dry it at the lowest setting for the majority of the drying time, then finish it off by drying/cooking it at 160+ degrees for 20-40 minutes. That way you can claim that it's "cooked," but it's not dried out and oily. Here is the same thing the next morning:



It's great stuff. I am fairly certain you can reuse the marinade a few times, so it's extremely economical compared to the $20/lb package of preservatives you can buy. If you make it, don't cut the meat too thick- else the outside will get dry but the inside will be...uh...less dry than that.

Just make sure you cut it with the grain. By that I mean that you want the strands of meat intact or the jerky will crumble and be no good. You can use any cut of meat. Tenderloin, brisket, london broil...the tougher the better. They don't serve beef jerky at tea parties.

A Country Song I Actually Like

I don't entirely enjoy music. Or "muzic," if you want to spell it with a z, like all the hippers and the hoppers do. Like I told Mr. dataDyne - if you have a C, but it needs to be a G, cross out the C and write "This should be a G."

Sometimes I like music more than other times. It's quite ironic...I have the ability to memorize lyrics, but I don't like music.


I think the problem is that most music falls short of my stringent requirements. You may recall this:

He's [Marv Tailor] a good singer! His songs make me think of pure and clean things, like Adon from the Turok series and Samus Aran from the Metroid series! It makes me think of Adon because he sings imperfectly, just like she talks! She is probably my favorite voice actor in everdom, diary! If you don't like a game because it is scary and extremely nerve wracking, but you play it just to hear her voice every time you beat a level [every 3-5 hours of playtime], you know she's a good voice actor! Oh, and it makes me think of Samus Aran because, well, diary...street lamps, rocks, darkness, my eyelids, the sky, and thin air tend to make me think of her, too!

Excuse me while I defenestrate Philippians 4:8. That's OK, it happens with 2 Timothy 2:23 all the time when it's question time. Ahem, so yes, those are about the only two requirements for music for me. They have to remind me of Metroid, Samus Aran, or Adon from the Turok series. Or just Adon's voice. Ahh...her voice melted the Milky Way.






Where was I. Oh. The song.


I can't think now.




It's "Taylor Swift." I remembered. Should've Said No (link to YouTube search). I'm pretty sure it's the only country song I like. It makes me think of Metroid. But right after that, Less Talk More Action came on; Drunken Redneck has its high point(s), but the rest are all low.

I'm so mean. And I now must go. Sorry if you like Drunken Redneck. I'm sure you don't like Samus Aran, so you're the baser jerk.

GWII #1 Revealed: I Hope No One Is Offended By This

[GWII #1 Question Post, and GWII #1 Reveal Post which is this post...so it's pointless to click it.]


I kind of didn't consider that it would look like some kind of cheese topped thing, even though it does look like cheese, cheese with chili powder in/on it. It was a grasshopper!



Yep, mystery solved - but no one guessed it! So, I mention the three that guessed.

My mom asked if it was a cheesy fly or rotting meat stuck on the back of my bike and (ahem) if it was anthropomorphic
Don Horsegoggles asked the hint: Does it have to do with Pecan Pie?
Patricia Horsegoggles asked if it was cheesy chicken (that sounds great! I'm gonna look into it)


Congratulations, guys! You all stay on my Christmas list. You're all getting socks! And maybe some cinnamon rolls...maybe cinnamon rolls with socks on them instead of icing!




Anyway, it was stuck in the windshield of the Pathy some weeks/months ago. Who knows how it got exploded like it did. And why it's so freakishly huge. Just look at the fly in comparison!


I have to go die now.

Guess What It Is #1

[GWII #1 Question Post, which is this post...so it's pointless to click it, and GWII #1 Reveal Post.]



Hey! Hi! How are things? Things are great, here, though this sin-cursed world could be a little cooler. (Or a lot cooler.) Bare feet don't do well for standing on burning earth. I think my nerves are singed. But that makes the rocks feel less sharp. And less hot.



Anyways, do you know what Guess What It Is is? I post a picture, and YOU try to guess what it is! It's zoomed in, and at the end of the contest, I show the picture unzoomed. Then you go, "Ohh, that's what it is!"

It's fantabularific. Listen up, here: EVERYONE should guess. This post is short, so the time you would spend reading should be spent on clicking "Anonymous" and then guessing something. If you guess correctly, you get your name up on the title of a post. If you don't guess, you're crossed off my Christmas list. You'll have until Thursday night- when I publish that post at around 5 PM- to do this.

Without further ado, we're off. Remember: You need to comment! I suppose I should give a hint, and if you want, you can ask things like "Is it a chemical?" or "Is it a real thing or a videogame thing?" But here's your free hint: It was alive at one point. So it isn't a rock. How about that. Here it is!



The only restraint in guessing is don't provide an organ recital of guesses. Try to keep it to one or three, and remember to ask "If it's a [insert query here]"!

So Begins More Toiling

Simulposted in Fool/Guitar and Wends.


Well, they say idle hands make decisions dull, and I think my hands must be very idle. You see, there is song in my Jeremiah 17:9 heart, and aside from song, a feeling that I won't quite be right until I learn...the dread instrument.

There is a certain pastor that did a very nice series on music. As he went on describing a bit of music theory, I found myself captivated, even if I didn't understand it. I especially liked his rant on how you can flat the 4th and the 5th and make a different genre of music. I was reminded of some lovestruck fool that can't understand what on earth their lovestriker is talking about, but is nevertheless captivated. Not that I'm in love with the guy. Oh, great, just what I need.


Anyway, it all started last Wednesday. I don't remember most of it, except that somehow I walked away with the objective of learning the piano.

...thus, with my mostly fabricated mission um, materialized, I set out with no official directive. My first step was to contact the Saints in California, as my manner is. I went through my usual middleman, and the kin folk said, "Kev, send my sister an email!" so I loaded up Gmail and wrote out a note and now I'm waiting for my Texas tea. Understand?

In the email, I posed two questions: firstly, keyboard-wise, what do I need to begin? Secondly, how do I begin?

I venture a bold assumption that you don't need many keys to learn the basics. As for beginning, I think a book/CD program should work, as it would seem logical to me that discussing complex mathematical formulas is not something to do while paying someone $50 an hour at a house that smells like antifreeze. If...if antifreeze has a scent. Does it? All I know is that it tastes great and is shiny.



That happened over the last few days. Today, I set my sights. My target: The only pianist I know.

Long story short, I stalked and cornered her and began as I usually do when people need knocking off guard. "Mrs. Manny Hitman!" I said. "You can play the piano. I want to play the piano, too!" We talked for what must have been four hours, and eventually she convinced me that she can't play hymns.

I then asked her what kind of piano I need: 50 key, 60 key, 76 key, 88 key? She affirmed that 88 key is too much for non-classical, but as she does not play hymns, she doesn't know what range is needed. And she doesn't like keyboards. I understand.


I asked her the basics of learning, expressing my mystifi...mys...inability to comprehend the perplexities of singling out and striking sets of three differing keys at once in rapid succession and with apparent accuracy. I don't think she quite understood me; it is a difficult thing to explain when you know how to play and there's a noob clinging to you and it... it just... won't... let... go!


Something needed doing, and we had already been talking for more than fourteen hours, so we parted ways. I went to what I think is my thinking chair to try to absorb what she said. I'll shorten this now and say that as a direct result of skillful cunning of her own, I now can take pictures like this:


Thanks! I'm borrowing it, and I should be able to tell if I have the mystical musical talent within a short time. It's going OK. Already, I can finger what is known as the most useless chord:

OK. From what I can tell, that's Gb Ab A G C E F G#...and I think the chord name for that is Gb/AMaug5#b, which would be pronounced "Gee-flat over A Major augment the 5th sharp-flat." Sounds like a useless chord to me.

My main goal is to learn the keys. I don't know how to do this, and I may be a bit in a bind until I get word from th---


ECHO, NO!