The Crapolla According to Fek'Lar

You Know You're DOOMED When...

your Boss laughs and tells you that the food isn't good unless it burns going in and coming out.

You've stumbled onto another issue of The Crapolla, a journal written for software professionals. No not the managers; I mean the people who do the work.

This Crapolla is sponsored by...

In This Issue...

Shipping Sardines to the Other Side of the World.

No Time for Frankfurters in Frankfurt

Gutenmorgen, Damen und Herren.

Welcome aboard Luftwaffe Airlines flight vier fünf fünf to Frankfurt. This is a non-stop flight with a short circling over Paris, France to let the paratroopers out.

During our flight, ve vill be invading the air-space of Canada, Greenland, the United Kingdom, and France before landing in the Fatherland.

Our movie today is The Producers.

And so began my adventure.

You know, what I hate about traveling is the traveling. Airports are a nightmare, and once you're on the plane, the endurance test begins. This endurance test was about 26 hours from my front door to the front door of the hotel in Bangalore.

I was hoping that traveling with the Luftwaffe would remove me from those American airlines who cram you in like sardines. Wrong. People were spilling out of their seats and onto their neighbors. (Really, I'm not kidding, I had an Israeli encroaching the whole way.) I'm told that the only airline with smaller seats is Air Frog. The personal space is so small, that the Diet Coke is in little tiny cans. I asked for six of them.

The connecting flight was in Frankfurt. I was scheduled for a 105 minute lay-over. My plan was to find a hot dog stand so I could say that I had frankfurters in Frankfurt. But the Luftwaffe circled Paris too long, and I had just enough time to get to the gate of the next flight. Maybe I can try this trick on the way back.

There is always something good you can say about a flight. In this case that good thing was that it eventually ended, and everyone walked away from the landing.

I was surprised to learn that you can only take one laptop into India without paying duty. I brought three and a PDA. Essentially, I had to buy back WTHAIS's computers from the Indian government. This ate about a third of the cash I brought. I didn't pay for the PDA. I smuggled it.

Mrs. Fek'lar would be proud of me. I dickered the fair market values of the machines down to almost nothing. ("That machine? It's old and scratched. You go on Ebay, and no one is going to give you any money for that piece of crap!")

But once I got done with the "traveling" part of my journey, everything started looking up. I didn't have to find a taxi. Unexpectedly, the hotel came looking for me. (I'm told that if you get in a "taxi" outside the airport, you're going to be taken for a ride.) Once in the hotel's possession, everyone wanted to take care of me. I was whisked away from the airport (which kept reminding me of the rail station in Hanoi), and through the empty streets of Bangalore at 1:30 AM. This was as empty as the streets would be. At 8 AM, as if on cue, every one was going to jump onto the streets at the same time. Hmm, this also reminds me of Hanoi.

My hotel room is better than my old apartment. It has two TV's (in case you are facing the other direction), and an area to work. Best yet, it has broadband.

It's 7:30 AM, I've gotten a few hours sleep, and now it's time for me to go have breakfast, and switch over my body clock to local time. The crappy part is over. The next five weeks are going to be an adventure.

This Issue's Headline submission to the National Daily World Enquiring Globe.

Money Scientifically Proven The Root of All Evil

Dick Cheney Off the Hook!

Let's play, "Who said this?"

Heard in the halls of various software companies.

"I BBQ'ed rabbit for Easter again this year. It always makes the kids cry."

"Google, might be cached. Try a web site you've never been to, like businessethics.com"

"Did you join your company's butt-kissing department?"
"Why? Are you looking for a job?"

Excuse Me

I must find out why someone is saluting me.

Fek'Lar
(They pay me to think. These are my thoughts. Do you think they are getting their money's worth?)

Remember: The Crapolla contains my personal opinions. That's right they're mine, so get your own! And you kids get off my lawn!

Although written with the software professional in mind, my mind tends to wander all over the place, and I sometimes write about politics, mass stoopidity, dumb things I saw, and whatever else comes to mind.

From time to time, I use salty language, thus The Crapolla is not intended for children, or certain people in the Bush Administration.

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EOJ

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