The Wookie and the Droid.


For the last time, Berkeley, this is not the droid you’re looking for. As any of you who’ve met me in person know, I love the little guy, but sheltie hair is the bane of my existence — it’s invariably all over my carpet, clothes, possessions, etc. (If I ever tried to commit a serious crime, the CSI guys would be at my doorstep in 24-48 hours, carrying Ziploc bags full of the stuff.) Whatsmore, Berk’s archnemesis (other than possibly the Door Buzzer) is the Vacuum Cleaner. Whenever I had it out (which was often, due to the endless shedding), he’d go absolutely ballistic, barking up a storm you can hear in the lobby five floors down.

So, given that my old vacuum had died yet again (which has twice cost me $100 to fix), and that I had to go to Toshi Station to pick up some power converters anyway, I procured my first Roomba droid early this afternoon. Alas, it doesn’t speak Bocce, but I must admit, it does a pretty solid job of haphazardly sweeping every corner of my nook-and-cranny-filled apartment. Plus, it’s a droid. How cool is that?

As for Berk’s reaction, the jury is still out. On one hand, he doesn’t recognize the (quieter) Roomba unit as a member of the Vacuum clan, so mercifully there’s no more barking. But, he definitely doesn’t seem to like it tooling around his territory either, and spent most of its first cycle trying to flip it. Ah well, baby steps. I’m sure I’ll have ’em playing holographic chess in no time…Roomba, let the Berkeley win.

The Berk Knight.

Gratuitious dog-blogging: Somewhere amid the blur of final papers, blue books, christmas schmoozing, prospectus revising, and freelance projects that have filled up the past week or so, my visiting brother finally managed to get Berkeley to sit still in the Batman costume I bought him a few years ago long enough for me to take a picture. Please, nobody call the ASPCA.

Boy, Dog, and Boy’s Dog.

Yesterday’s anniversary made it occur to me that it’s been ages since we’ve had any gratuitous Berkeley pics around here. So, without further ado, here’s me trying to get Berk to pose next to the Boy and Dog Tom Otterness sculpture gracing my street corner (along with Fallen Dreamer) until this weekend. As you can see, there were more interesting goings-on elsewhere…




How the West Was Lost.

“The last sanctuary of the West Douglas wild horse herd is a desolate, forbidding place, which is just how the horses like it…Now, even this refuge may soon be lost. The U.S. Interior Department, which has leased 93 percent of the horses’ preserve to energy companies, recently unveiled plans for evicting the entire herd. Under the proposal, the animals will be rounded up using nets and tranquilizer darts and then hauled away for adoption. The reason cited: Wild horses are incompatible with the region’s intensive gas production.” As seen in the NYT ten days ago, the Post checks out Dubya’s terrible environmental record, with specific attention to the West, which is being cut, drained, mined, and refined away in order to secure extra energy profits for Dubya’s corporate cronies. The party of TR? Not bloody likely.

Dubya to the Dogs.

While authorization for attack dog intimidation techniques implicate intelligence higher-ups in the horrors of Abu Ghraib, Bush gets legalistic to (not) explain the pro-torture policies emanating from his administration. Hmmm. I bet the White House is wishing Reagan could die every week right now.