The .25 Cent Workaround.

By the way, If you want to skip the next several paragraphs of nonsense, just scroll down until you see "The Paper Clip Trick."

Before I get started on this miracle cure, I need to digress and somewhat fondly reminisce.  As many of you know (okay, both of you) I used to be in the Army. After having read the Army Comics section (okay, none of you) may have guessed one of my jobs was truck driving. I actually enjoyed that and sometimes wished I had gone for that job. Imagine if I had, I probably would have been promoted quicker. Gone to different places. Probably never would have met the guy that introduced me to sprite comics.

Well, one of the things that was most un-enjoyable was dispatching the trucks and trailers. You see one of the major headaches was trailer lights. They didn't like to work. Even in the middle of the day they had to work. Having the brake lights work wasn't enough, no, ALL THE FRAKKING LIGHTS had to be on. It's not good enough that the county mounties, city, state, and for the most part DOT really don't care. The people who couldn't hack it in a maintenance section really did care.

So, we would have to tell our squad leader, he would get a mechanic NCO. Then the mech NCO would tell one of his soldiers to fix the malfunctioning lights on the trailer.

Those two lines took me about a minute to type out. Take that minute times however many minutes in a nine to five duty day. If we were lucky we could get the equipment dispatched after duty hours and signed by the commander before we had to take off first thing in the morning.

Enough bitching.

The Paper Clip Trick.

If only we had known about the Paper Clip Trick. All the time that I spent driving for the Army I never saw one person do this. I learned about long after leaving from an old driver. I say that ironically because he has been driving longer than me, but is a year younger. He told me to stick a paper in the light cord.

 

 Big surprise, these lights don't work.

 

 

Get yourself a paperclip. Don't use one that big. I'm using one like that here because it photographs easier.

  Bend one end into a horseshoe.

 

Clip off the excess.

 

Stick it into the ten-and-two positions in the end of the light cord.

Plug it back in and you should have lights. If not, you may have to get a new light cord, check the fuses, or turn the light switch on in the cab.

Be warned: There is the possibility of a short circuit which could lead to a fire. I have seen the After MASH of such. Due to a little point two-five cent paperclip.

The Rosenkreuzstilette 106a English Patch Workaround.

A fellow fan of this magnificent game is having a problem getting the English Patch to work with the latest version of the game. First thing I did was to replicate the problem.

I got it to happen in three ways. I pointed the patch to a file that contained that zip file. Then I tried changing the names of the main Rosenkreuzstilette folder. The patch worked every time. However I remembered noting to myself awhile ago that the "manual" and "omake" folders are deleted when the patch is installed. SO I deleted them myself. The patch failed. (Ironic.) Now there was one more test, but I couldn't try it.

Patching 106a. I don't have a copy. (Damn the irony.) But I did get one, without having to buy yet another copy of the game. I was trolling erka:es looking for a graphic reference when I saw patch downloads. So starts patching adventures. There's about a thousands variations of the game and a thousand patches for each. After an hour of trial and error, (mostly error) I finally succeeded in upgrading one of my many copies of 105c into 106a.

And the English Patch failed.

But, I had already tested a solution. (Which I have no doubt everybody else has already done.) I took the "scenario" file from the English Patched game and copied it to 106a. And It seems to be working. Now, I have only tested one stage, and went trough it pretty quickly, but I'm sure It works all they way through. For this video, I threw in a few extras.




That graphic reference. I couldn't find it. Let's just say that fairies are evil and if it weren't for their infinite capacity for stupidity, they'd rule the world.

Uh-oh moment, three days later.

Last Thursday, 11 Nov 10 as I recall, I went through my usual rutine of reading the comics I get via an email subscription. Ones like Bloom County, Wizard of Id, Garfield, Calvin and Hobbes, and so on. I laughed and closed out and went about my rather boring business.

The next Sunday I was listening to a nationally syndicated radio talk show I tune into only in times of extreme desperation when the host mentioned in passing about a cartoonist apologizing for a cartoon that ran the previous Thursday. As soon as I could I went back to my email to look it up. I had an oh my goddess reaction.

Before I go ranting myself all over the place, I do some research. I looked up the cartoonist's apology. I had a little bit of queasiness concerning it, but seeing as how this is the first time such a bad bit of timing has occurred to the best of my knowledge. I 'll chalk it up to a collective brain shart.

Collective because it wasn't just the cartoonist at fault. He has a staff of hundreds, if not thousands that missed it. The syndicator that has thousands, if not tens of thousands, of people that missed it. It happens. Really.

So, what's my excuse?

Do Not mistake this for a Mea Culpa.

Way back in May I wrote a certainly derisive missive concerning call for new medals to be awarded to service members. You can read the whole thing here. To paraphrase for those that don't want to go there: "... is already a medal for doing nothing. It's called a Bronze Star."

It smacks of mean, dirty, rotten, venom spewing, vitriol. I meant what I said and I stand by it.

A couple of weeks after posting that, me, my dad, and grandma were at the cemetery decorating family graves. While trying to find them a couple of older gentlemen wearing Vietnam Veteran caps and proudly displaying Bronze Stars on their jackets (Probably the same medals they were awarded in Vietnam) came by and struck up conversations with my dad. All the while I felt a little sheepish.

I think this week is as good as any to tell a couple of stories explaining my emotions on the subject.


About five or so years ago some guy I don't remember the name of because it's not worth remembering started bragging about getting a Bronze Star for supervising a trench across a road in Iraq. Mind you, that trench was important. A pipe going from a water purification depot to a canal was needed and it had to go under a road. This braggart pretty much stood on the side chit-chatting with the other sergeants and whenever a soldier asked for a water break the answer would be "Get back to work!"

"Sergeant, I have to use the latrine." "Get back to work!"
"Sergeant, I'm hungry, we haven't eaten since yesterday." "Get back to work!"
"Sergeant, I'm out of malaria pills." "Get back to work!"
"Sergeant, I've stopped sweating." "Get back to work!"

And, at no time did he or the other sergeants standing around swing a pick ax, touch a shovel, take a turn with the jack hammer, or even run the SEE-truck. He got his Bronze Star. His buddies got ARCOMs.  The soldiers in the trench got AAMs. Which at the time were illegal.


Now we have this: After a month in Iraq, she lost hearing in one ear. Then spent over a week soaked in diesel fuel. Got cheated on by her loved one and dumped. Had a (fortunately dud) mortar round land next to her. Was on a crew that was tasked to wash every vehicle in the battalion so she spent over a month was doused in the nastiest and coldest water in the world. Was one of the last soldiers in the battalion to return home a month after everybody else.

Back home she was kicked out of recruiter school for obviously bogus reasons. Deployed to a hardship duty pay area for four months and was never paid for it. Ordered to drive her personal vehicle to a job site over twenty miles away for several months and was never compensated for it.

Then while in Afghanistan she broke her hip and kept running on it for over a month. After being sent home for about six months she went back.

Worse of all, she had to put up with me torturing her all day long and taking our private conversations and using them as fodder in my little comic strip.


So I leave it to you: who do you think earned their Bronze Star?

Only slightly exaggerated.

I'm now icing my boo-boo.

I normally keep personal stuff like this confined to Facebook, but I can't go on at length there like I can here.

I went to a friend's hometown to attend her Halloween Party. I got there the night before, and rented a hotel room. I asked if I could extend my stay by a few hours, and the clerk said yes, just come down in the morning to make the arrangement. Well, morning comes around, before I head downstairs I decided to fire up the laptop to check the itinerary of events I planned out for the afternoon. I reached over to pick up the laptop and

OW!

My back started killing me. I figured I had tweaked a muscle. Actually I hoped that was all. I went ahead and checked out the locations of the tourist traps in the area. After that I hobbled my way to the front desk to extend my stay and get some more sleep.

No go. They had sold the room out from underneath me, and that the whole hotel was sold out. They told me to get out right away. I guess my kind is not welcome there. The kind that laugh too loudly at the David Hasselhoff Roast. So I get my stuff and leave.

Across the road is another hotel, they didn't open up until 9, it was 8:30. I wait, go the office and they said that they don't open for another half an hour. Thirty minutes later a sign is on the door saying be back a 11:30.

For the next three hours I'm dodging horses pooping in the street, closed roads, and too narrow roads for two way traffic. After 20 hotels in three cities not one let you check in before 3 in the afternoon, I had gotten to be pretty frustrated. By this time my back was so bad I decided to call it quits and go home.

I called my friend to see if it was okay to stop by for a few minutes about five hours before the party. I could tell by the sound of her voice and the ruckus in the background that I had called her at a bad time. At that exact moment in time my phone died. I figured that was the one hint not to ignore. I went home.

Even if the phone had lived, I would not have told her about my back. I feel if I did, that would by like trying to guilt her into feeling sorry for me. And to put up with me when she had more important things to do. Plus, my little owie is nothing compared to the crap she's been through, I know, I was there when it happened.

When I got home I went the emergency room and the doctor said I probably just strained a muscle. I chose to go to an emergency room back home for a couple of reasons: I didn't know if my insurance would cover me at my friend's place. And, if the injury was serious and required an extended stay, I have family that I could brow-beat and guilt into helping me out.

Now, If my friend, if she still calls me that, invites me next year; I'm buying my room for two days at least two weeks in advance.

Update: 11/3/10

I've been invited back for next year. I think I'll ask for the day off as well.