Author: Mark Alexander

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Playlists…and My Failing Memory

Because the entertainment center on my MINI isn’t exactly cutting edge, playing music from my iPhone requires an expensive (and frankly, ridiculous) adapter that both supplies power and allows playback simultaneously. It wouldn’t be such a pain if Apple hadn’t—in their infinite wisdom, dictating how we should use our devices—gotten rid of the headphone jack a few years back. Power and signal were two separate cables that worked even in my old MINI.

The other option with this system is to play music through a USB stick. This is the method I’ve been using because it works and only requires copying the music files over from my Mac.

The one feature I haven’t been able to figure out until recently, however, was how to get my playlists from my Mac into the MINI. A bit of internet sleuthing and an inexpensive bit of software allowed me to export the iTunes (excuse me, Apple Music) playlists to that USB stick.

Problem was, they didn’t work. In fact, they weren’t even recognized by the MINI. It turns out it’s because the playlists are based on the file structure on my Mac—not the structure on the USB. Looking at the actual text embedded in the playlists revealed that undocumented fact, so I’ve spent the last several hours correcting paths on the stick to reflect where the actual files are located.*

My dance music playlists are by year, and while editing these playlist files, I discovered I have a lot (and I mean a lot) of the same songs listed in multiple years. Horror of horrors, but it should be an easy matter of sorting them out, right?

Not so fast. Back in the day I could create mix cassettes and organize the tunes by seasons. Now I’m having trouble remembering what year these tunes were in heavy rotation—never mind if it was summer or autumn.

The original mix cassettes that would’ve definitively nailed this down are long gone and the friends I lived through this period with are long dead, so I can’t reference either of them, so I’ve done what any normal, aging disco queen would do: I just left the lists as they were. I mean, does it really matter if Come Into My Heart/Baby Love was getting heavy play in 1978 or 1979? With so many other things going on in the world, this is the least of my concerns and I should just sit back and enjoy the tunes and the memories—even if I can’t attach them to a specific month and year any more.

*It should be noted I haven’t actually tested this yet, but I can’t imagine the problem being anything else.

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Truth

This is so true, especially in the days before cell phones and digital photography. On those rare occasions when I want to remind myself of what a truly horrible person I was prior to my cancer diagnosis and start reading through my journals, I run across names of men I had dated and were absolutely obsessed with—but for whom I am totally unable to conjure forth a mental image.

And it’s not just the dated-but-ultimately-went-nowhere guys in my journals. I had friends in the 70s, 80s, and even 90s—good friends—for whom I have not a single photo. I at least retain somewhat of a memory of their faces and their smiles, but it saddens me I have nothing tangible to refer to. Was it the cost of the film and the developing? Possibly, but I don’t honestly know.  I have tons of photos of other shit from those years, but for some reason the people closest to me are totally absent.

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The Truth of the Matter Is…

…we’d be nuts to think that simply booting out Donald Trump and voting in Joe Biden will be sufficient to solve our country’s problems. Our divisions and dysfunctions predate our current president. From the Bork nomination fight to Bush-vs.-Gore to the Merrick Garland fiasco and the repeated government shutdowns of recent years, it is obvious that Trump is as much a reflection of our existing problems as he is a creator of new ones.

But his removal is absolutely essential for any kind of progress. Because, as Biden said Monday, he “sows chaos” and is a “toxic presence” who has “forfeited moral leadership.” If anything, those descriptions were understatements. Trump is an unmitigated catastrophe, and all Americans must rouse themselves from their slumbers to vote him out on Nov. 3.

Can’t escape ‘Handmaid’s Tale’ dystopia with Trump at helm

Source: Los Angeles Times
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Quote of the Day

Saying Biden’s America will be worse than our current America is like an abusive spouse telling you that you can’t do any better.” ~ Infantry0300 on Twitter

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After Slogging Through Too Many Seasons of Supernatural and Criminal Minds These Past Few Months……

I have issues.

  • WHY DO THEY ALWAYS SLICE THEIR PALM TO GET BLOOD? Do you know how many nerve endings are in your hand?!?! Why don’t they ever cut the back of their arm or their leg or something OMFG!
  • WHILE WE’RE AT IT, why do people try to cross those skinny bridges over lava/chasms/whatever by walking upright. IT’S CALLED CENTER OF GRAVITY FOR A REASON. Get on your hands and knees and crawl across that thing. HUG IT. SCOOT YOUR BUTT ACROSS. “But i look stupid!” LALALALA. But we’ll avoid that stupidly dramatic moment when you almost fall over and die because your damn fucking self wanted to look COOL
  • STOP YANKING IV LINES OUT OF YOUR ARMS THE MINUTE YOU WAKE UP IN THE HOSPITAL! Do you want to fucking bleed to death?!
  • That is a broadsword, why are you fencing with it?
  • There is a freaking door right there. Stop smashing through windows, damn it!
  • Yes, Mr. Action Hero, I am aware that running dramatically from the baddies at breakneck speed is important, but know what else is important? NOT GETTING SHOT. RUN IN A FUCKING ZIGZAG PATTERN ON THE OFF CHANCE THAT THE MOOKS WERE NOT COACHED IN MARKSMANSHIP BY THE IMPERIAL STORMTROOPERS.
  • And oh hey, you there…sneaky hero-type breaking into any place for any reason? WEAR SOME FUCKING GLOVES. They’re called fingerprints, dumbass. You have them and you’re putting them all over the fucking place.
  • If something really fucking huge is falling on you, don’t FUCKING RUN ALONG THE LENGTH OF THE THING! JUST TAKE LIKE TWO FUCKING STEPS TO THE SIDE, OR BETTER YET, RUN 90 DEGREES TO THE THING!
  • And for God’s sake, PUT PRESSURE ON THAT WOUND. DON’T JUST SIT THERE AND IT BLEED OUT. I’m talking to you, TV cops.