Living la vida loca

.. if you ain’t hurtin’, you ain’t livin’.

               Hoo boy, change hurts. Since I’m passing through a rather annoying phase of my life, I’ve decided to make it considerably worse – I’ve started learning Python with tkinter. Progress has been slow, especially since I’ve lost half the programming skills I had when I got married. Half? Oy vey, let’s just say that’s a wee bit of an understatement, if you know what I mean. Now, what does this button do? Bloody hell, I thought the transition from would be easy.. Damned grid and pack, who needs you?

               I had a bit of a disagreement with one fellow who argued with yours truly about the superiority of western missile guidance. As anyone working with them GPS trackers when USSR invaded (ahem, reintegrated) parts of Ukraine some time ago can tell you, when dozens of GPS monitored highly sensitive pieces of machinery in Eastern Europe hundreds of kilometers apart from each other start losing GPS link at the same time (almost to the minute, actually) for up to an hour, for several days at random, that’s got to be a bit suspicious, innit? And I am not the only one who saw it (24th, 30th of April 2014, and so on). Besides, I don’t mean tractors actually in Ukraine, my play things were thousands of kilometers away from the war. Maybe the folks in charge tested a soft deterrent by encrypting civilian signals, maybe Ivan intentionally messed a bit the “directional” jamming, whatever. Anyways, jamming is easy. For civilian applications, any cheap FM modulator you use in your car to play your music that’s  capable of working up and around 105 Mhz can do (usually, if your cheap-ass modulator it’s set to 87.5 and it’s close to your gps device, the harmonic actually breaks into the 1575,4 Mhz frequency GPS works). Oh yeah, and older ones work nicely too.. Nowadays, if you’re really unlucky, you don’t even have to fly to be in an aircraft accident, the aircraft could crash right on top of you while you’re busy on the loo.

               And I’ve had many more of them head-bumping and chest-thumping  experiences to feel dog-tired. Ever have a stuck-up mid-twenties bossyboots try to look important when you’ve got jobs that lasted more than her whole employment experience? Yeah. Apparently, my brain tells me I’m offended. Why the hell is that? Oh. Bloody hell, my ego’s acting up again? Crap. I must be insecure if I’m feeling threatened by my gaffer’s assistant slash secretary. Problem is, I do feel threatened. Now what?



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