perfidy

So, there I was - out of town the past couple days, when I got a call on my cell, from one of my correspondents who happens to have both my office number and my mobile.

The message? "What's wrong with your office phone service?"

I called the office number from my cell phone, and as reported, heard that

We're sorry - your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please check the number and dial again.

WTF? I think I'm still in business, and I know the bill is paid, I said to myself. But at the time, I wasn't in a position where I could spare the inevitable hour+ the search for a solution would take on the phone to some hair-lipped dipshit in Bangalore, Mumbai, or New Jersey. So I punted. (Actually, "teed off" is a more appropriate sports metaphor, under the circumstances)

When I got back to town this evening, I decided I'd spend some time building up karma points, and I've heard that talking to soulless retards is good for one's karma balance. And so I called for technical support. The menu tree on the automated answering system at the service provider was clearly designed to ensure that, except for the most serious problems, no human would ever be bothered with my travails. When I'd finally gotten to the point where I was allowed to make a selection proving that I had, in fact, checked all the obvious problems and found them n/a, I did as requested, and pressed "1" to be transferred to a supposedly sentient being. After the standard boilerplate about how, to ensure quality, my call might be recorded, I heard a couple clicks, followed by a message:

We're sorry - your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please check the number and dial again.

After I'd taken a moment to mop up a bit of the blood that burst, geyser-like, from my ears, I called again, and speed-pounded all the same responses as the first time, this time reaching quite the chatty Kathy (though his name was Greg) who asked me to do all the standard shit, and who seemed credulous as I paused after each request for just a long-enough time to allow him the delusion I was actually following his instructions. And when it was all over, I had several phone lines on which I could make outbound calls to anyone, but could only receive inbound calls from other customers of the same provider, though none from anyone who'd been smart enough to choose a different telephone company.

Just as I had been when the call began.

Except for one thing - I now have an "RT Ticket" (whatever that is) and a promise that the engineers in New Jersey will provide something (not necessarily a solution, but something) within 24-48 hours.

Marvelous. Just bloody marvelous. I don't think it would be right to name the company with whom I've so enjoyed this mincing waste of time and loss of telephonic contact from much of the business world, because, while the truth is an absolute defense against libel claims, and everything I've related here is the truth, they don't have a forum here to defend themselves.

[wik] Oh, and on a completely unrelated note, Vonage sucks. Like a Hoover.

[alsø wik] Correction, Vonage sucks like a Hoover trapped inside a Eureka.

[alsø alsø wik] On third thought, Vonage sucks like a Hoover trapped inside a Eureka, jammed up Dave Oreck's ass. Sideways. No disrepect to Dave Oreck intended, of course.

[wi nøt trei a høliday in Sweden this yër?] Yes, Virginia, this does get me out of the hot seat, probably at least until the esteemed Minister Ross weighs in again.

[wik] No, Virginia, this doesn't get me out of the hot seat

Just go look.

For the first time since getting over the initial withdrawal period, I am regretting my decision to get rid of cable. Sure, I am no longer wasting time watching the fifteenth documentary on the Battle of the Bulge, or Tsunamis. I'm not watching movies on HBO. I'm getting more reading done, playing games with the family. It's all good. Except. This Saturday we will witness, in the words of sportswriter Stewart Mandel, "the biggest, most colossal event in the history of organized sports." Well, those with television will witness it. What event is this, you ask? Nothing more than the OSU - Texas football game. My buckeyes are ranked number one. The slope browed neanderthals from Austin are ranked second. It's the second week of the season. And, short of finding a sports bar suitable for three year olds, I will miss it.

I've thought about asking Mom to record it - she'll be driving out the next day. But somehow I doubt that I will manage to make the next 24 hours without someone telling me the results. I will have to make the effort, for Cleveland has, as usual, given me its annual disappointment. My only hope for sports happiness is college football.

[wik] Hat tip to, of all people, my wife for the link.

I meant to post this a while back, but John over at Texas Best Grok linked to a fascinating page of Bill Waterson rarities. I've always been a big fan of Calvin and Hobbes, and this is just cool.

From Rootsvilleburg, Oh, resident BTD Matt, we have another excruciatingly fun interweb sign generator thingy. Behold, my creation:

Over at Naked Villainy, we find a quiz that warms the cockles of our heart. A soft and fuzzy quiz that probes at the feminine side of our soul. This quiz asks, "What WWII Army would you be?" The answer is clear: Finland

You scored as Finland.

Your army is the army of Finland. You prefer to win your enemy by your wit rather than superior weapons. Enemy will have a hard time against your small but effective force.

[wik] And what rule insists that the authors of these verdamt quizzes can't write or spellcheck their way out of wet paper sack?

[alsø wik] While I am utterly unsurprised that I ended up as Finland, given my genetic heritage and disposition, I am surprised that I ranked so low as America. Granted, I don't believe that the American strategic campaign was terribly useful, or even terribly moral, but I don't think that those answers should have bumped the 'ol US of A that far down the rankings.

[alsø alsø wik] If I were to get all reckless and shit, and attempt to rank those nations without the assistance of an interweb quiz engine, it might go something like this:

• Finland
• USA
• Britain/Commonwealth
• Poland
• Italy
• Germany
• Japan
• Soviet Union
• France, Free French or Resistance

[wi nøt trei a høliday in Sweden this yër?] If I were to choose purely on the basis of prowess, rather than ideological preference, the list might go like this:

• Finland
• Germany
• USA
• Britain/Commonwealth
• Poland
• Italy
• Japan
• Soviet Union
• France, Free French or Resistance

Strangely, the lists are nearly identical, with the exception of Germany moving up rather precipitously.

Operational Art of War III
Scenario "Taiwan 2015"

People's Republic of China: Programmed Opponent (PO)
Taiwan: Yours truly

This scenario is a hypothetical sketch of an invasion of Taiwan by the PRC. Discussion below the fold.

The area of operations is the northern quarter or so of Taiwan. The north-central area is dominated by Taipei and environs; to the west, there is dense urban terrain around the airport. Much of the map outside the cities is open/cropland that favors fairly easy mobility.

The PRC starts out aggressive, but is not consistently so. Turn 1 finds large airborne attacks that seize the airport and much of the surrounding city; the harbor; and most of Taipei proper. Subsequent turns see further airborne drops, as well as marine infantry flowing into the harbor. By about Turn 4, Taipei was in commie hands, their grip on the western areas was strong, and the marines were poised to blast south between them.

The good news for the Taiwanese player is that victory is tied to Taipei. The city center is worth 90 vp alone; counting up the broader urban sprawl surrounding it, it’s in the neighborhood of 200 vp. This is good, because the mission is pretty cut and dried: hold Taipei, win.

In order to do that, a couple of things needed to happen. The strong marine forces lollygagging around the harbor could not be allowed to flow into the city; I had a feeling that once in there they’d never be dug out. As it was, the light units dug into the city were trouble enough. The enemy marines had to be either destroyed, fixed in place, or otherwise prevented from linking with its forces in Taipei to the E or the force in the W. Such a link would establish a solid line of invaders across a fairly narrow frontage, stretching across nearly half the island. The Taiwanese player does not have enough combat power fielded to destroy them; fixing them might be feasible with a strong force, but most of my heavy units were trying to wrest the airport or the capital from the bad guys.

So it looks grim in the opening turns- strong PRC units appear everywhere you don’t want them, and do a lot of damage. Friendly forces are dispersed and, early on, inadequate to do much beyond meeting engagements. But, as with NATO/Pact scenarios, the invader’s reinforcements peter out as the defender’s increase. Although parity is never reached, Taiwan is able to field some robust armored and mech units, as well as several attack helo units that are very effective against PRC artillery.

What ended up happening was that I had basically 3 forces. The west had armor and mech units leavened with some reserve leg battalions that, in time, were enough to destroy most of the PRC airborne and push back the rest until the enemy line thickened up with reinforcing marine units. In the east, everything I had went toward retaking Taipei, an ugly fight. The only way to keep attrition to a minimum in the destroyed, dense rubble of the city is the application of overwhelming, concentrated firepower. There are no political consequences of reducing the city to ash, or for making the rubble bounce, so go for it. The defenders don’t retreat readily, so it’s fairly easy to maneuver around and isolate them, but then it’s time consuming to eradicate them. The center, though, was my biggest concern.

Even though the game would be won by whoever held Taipei at the end, the PRC marines in the center were the key element in the fight. After committing everything I felt was needed to recapture the capital, there was very little left to drive between the city and those enemy marines. For most of the game, I had a thin line of leg infantry and a couple small mech formations as a speed bump for them, and that was it. At any moment, the PRC marines could have burst out of the harbor area and swung east to relieve the capital, or west to maneuver across the open terrain and envelope my force there. The PO chose neither. It made a few thrusts that pushed the line back pretty easily, but it never really went for it. Once all the PRC’s units were committed to Taiwan, it just sort of let them hang around. An aggressive human opponent would’ve eaten my lunch, I’m sure.

This scenario is really the PRC’s to lose; with Taipei and the airport the game is all but won. The rest of the game should be spent holding them, and parrying efforts to dislodge them. There is plenty of space and favorable terrain for bold maneuver, but in this scenario it’s not strictly necessary for the win. I’d like to try this fight again, but as the Chicoms, and see what kind of damage I can do with those marines.

If I've got this right, six monkeys, tossed in the air, would land on their heads as often as their tails... The internet, natural habitat of all things pointless and nevertheless fascinating, is of course home to the Monkey Shakespeare Simulator. Here, billions upon quadrillions of electronic monkeys munch bananas and type, hoping to produce - despite a complete lack of knowledge of literature or even language - the complete works of the Bard. The current record, according to the page, is 24 letters from Henry IV, Part 2.

Amazingly, my monkeys - enlisted in my service when I loaded the page - managed to duplicate the first 40 characters of Romeo and Juliet:

After 6.18685e+77 pages in this session, a monkey typed:

Sampson. Gregory: A my word wee'l not caoyF
v9MYN;.(pGVEd0O?9LiCF.
:O(Y...

the first 40 letters of which match "Romeo and Juliet"
This occured after 3.92099e+73 monkey-years in this session,
when there were 8.00248e+73 monkeys.

Excitement! I set a record! Instantly, I submitted my results to the webmaster. My excitement abated dramatically when I realized that I was getting 38 and 39 letters of various plays with amazing regularity. Checking back now, I see that I have racked up 40 letters from Henry VI, Part 2 and the Tempest over the last ten minutes or so. My apparent record is, seemingly, more an artifact of inattention on the part of the people who run the website than due to any puissance inherent in my electric monkeys. This is confirmed by a closer reading of the large type near the top of the page, which informs me that new entries are not being accepted thanks to a lack of resources. Cheap bastards.

Still, until proven otherwise, I have the record! Mine, mine, mine, mine.

Found on the wall of a cubicle:

Click on the pic for a larger, clearer, and more legible version. You'll feel better, trust me.