Archive for December 2001
Another old Mesa fote from the Reinhart Archives. Note shirt graphic done by Josh:
Zane, as always, the consummate ham.
India Seeks to Become World’s Back-Office:
They are part of an emerging workforce for India’s latest export offering — IT-enabled services.
These include tele-marketing, helpdesk support, medical transcription, back-office accounting, payroll management, maintaining legal databases, insurance claim and credit card processing, animation, and higher-end engineering design — all of which can be delivered by phones, computers and the Internet.
I have long wanted to either (a) be a writer, or, (b) go back to school. However, the sweet and milky teat that is the US IT job market has long since halted my move to grub street. In the upcoming years — or, perhaps, decades (though it hardly matters) — our little friend globalization might just swipe those voluptuous titties from me, though. I’ll find myself walking in a daze with the same unemployment box of whacky desk stuff as my father’s generation of IBM company-men did. Which is to say: if my job can be done cheaper by programmers in India, I’m fucked.
Joe CEO certainly isn’t gonna give a shit about me once he finds out the q4 books are gonna look better if we fire all those $60k+ programmers and hire dirt-cheap labor somewhere else. That is the kind of compassion my tender years in the work force has taught me to expect from the Holy Free Market: employees are just more debt on the books. They’re to be gotten rid of as soon as possible.
All this is probably brought on by reading Letters to a Young Contrarian
in one quick setting; a book you, you, and that other person who reads this little log should read…if only to see how much the afore mentioned teats might have changed you.
Kim and I went shopping today. She bought me two shirts and some nice pants for my birthday.
What are you going to get me?
I used to roll, with girls, down the road
Mack trucks caused country Peterbilts overload
Turnpike in freak mode, kissin at a highway patrol
Haulin platinum and gold, takin chicks to the superbowl
Big freight with big weight
Episode 2 of Kinman’s Holiday’s: White Castle. I understand their fries only come in one size.
Well I’m the ultimate, the rhyme imperial
I’m better, but some don’t believe me though
But I’m a pro in hot material
on your Walkman, Box or any stereo
Uno, dos not quatro
Spanish girls, they like to call me Pancho
Today we’re enjoying a blast from the past: Critical Beatdown by the Ultramagnetic MC’s…Kool Keith’s first thing.
Check out this old, old “Mesa Days” fote Brenna found:
As Brenna points out, the 1st guy from
the left, in the first row — Todd — ran over his own foot. How he did this, we never figured out.
Damn, and check out Jay’s hair. It’s outta control!
(For those who don’t know, Mesa later became the [now somewhat tragic]
FundsXpress.)
Scripting News: “The people who do the standards work at the BigCo’s can be great engineers, some of them are very smart and experienced people, but as you can see in specs like UDDI and WSDL, they also have to work with low-road idiots who carve out political power in their companies by polluting simple ideas with incomprehensible compromises. No one fights for simplicity, and if they do they are ground into submission by the compromisers. You don’t need a degree in rocket science to figure out what’s going to fly. If you can’t make sense of the spec in 10 minutes no one is going to use it so you can safely ignore it.”
