StephanKinsella.com

“Behest”. And I frankly, without shame, admit that I feel a cold burning hatred for anyone who uses this word.

‘Growing Pains’ Actress Gold Arrested . Pix.

I need some help/advice from any tech/geeks out there. I am going paperless and scanning lots of paper documents into PDF files.

I have a Visioneer scanner. It sucks, but still. I use it with Adobe Acrobat 6.0 (which also sucks, like all things hardware and software) to scan lots of documents into PDF. This is very slow. The worst thing is it invokes the PaperPort 8.0 Scan Manager, which is slow, and also, it pops up a fucking scan manager screen every time it scans the next page. I can get nothing done on my PC when it’s scannig, it ties up the whole fucking screen.

I want a better way to fucking simply scan documents into PDF. Faster, and does it in background. And works with my fucking Visioneer scanner.

I was thinking of buying PaperPort 9.0 Deluxe. I don’t give a crap about its ability to do document management but I want a simple, easy, fast way to use my fucking scanner to create PDF files, in the background.

Any advice or recos from geeks out there would be appreciated. Please don’t tell me to get a new fucking scanner or mail the docs to Thailand to do it on the cheap.

Stephan

I know all the free market guys are boo-hooing Aaron Director’s death. Sure. I agree. De mortuis nil nisi bonum and all that.

But you know, it reminds me. Because I have always hated the stupid double-A name “Aaron”. Way too ethnic or pretentious or something. Why not Aaaaaaron. And then he has that last name–“Director”. Hey, how about Stephan Cinematographer. Gag me.

Almost as bad as stupid names like Judge or Marshall or Gouvenor. Or Dean. Or Major. “How do you do. I’m Judge Reinhold.” No–you’re not a damn judge! Who would name their kid “major”? Major idiots. Major Woody and Private Parts, reporting for duty, sir.

Shrapnel. It just sounds so…. flinty-hard Germanic, almost brittle, almost onomatopoeic. Say it. You can just hear a German soldier say, “Watch out for zee SHRAPNEL!” “Acch! Hans was torn apart by zee shrap-nel!” You can picture little jagged pieces of metal flying out, flaying flesh.

Other cool words.

Some good anarchist quotes from B.K. Marcus‘s BlackCrayon website, including one by yours truly. A good one, if I do say so my aphorismed self.

Or do I repeat myself. I hate meetings. Drive me crazy. Take too long. People too slow. They don’t get to they want me there when I have no need to be there. They don’t get to the point. I often try to find ways to get out of them or make them less unproductive. I’ll pretend like I’m ducking out for a bathroom break and stay gone 20 minutes. Or I’ll bring in some material I need to review or a patent application I need to work on and do it while others drone on. Or I’ll clean out my cell phone text message in box or phone directory.

Sometimes I call my office number from my cell phone. This causes it to automatically call my cell phone 2 or 3 minutes later (I have it programmed to do this). So I answer the cell phone, acting like it’s an important business call, and duck out for 30 minutes.

A couple times I tried this: I’m in the office for a Saturday meeting that does not (in my nonbiased judgment) need my presense. I leave my yellow pad, pen, and coffee cup on the table and walk out. Everyone assumes I’m going to the bathroom. But I simply go to my car and leave. Unfortunately, then you leave a reminder that you are not there, that you never returned. They will razz you the next day — “Hey, I saw that coffee cup trick! you didn’t return!” But if you take you stuff with you when you leave, everyone sees you packing up and knows your intentions. Darn it, catch 22!

Another time-waster. For some reason people always plop down in my office to chat. People I don’t want to talk to. I stare at the ceiling and try to answer minimally, hoping they’ll just leave. I’ve taken to closing my door or even locking it so people have to knock. That sometimes scares bullshitters. A couple days ago a guy was in my office and was making small talk that drove me nuts. So I held my cell phone under the desk and dialed my office number. When my office phone rang, I put on a pained expression like, sorry to be unable to hear the ending to your story, and held up my hand and said, “sorry, gotta take this–” and they shuffle out.

Other tricks I use: I stand up and act like I need to go to the bathroom or get some coffee or something, and they walk out with me. Another trick: when I hear the voice of a frequent interloper outside the office, instead of sitting there and waiting for them to stop by my office next, I’ll duck out and head to the bathroom or coffee room, so I am not there when they would likely pass by.

A colleague just told me he needs to investigate something so will go online and “goggle” it.

Wife and I are both at work. She rings me.

WIFE: Hey. A guy here has two good tickets to a Houston, Texans football game next month. A Sunday in October. Want to go?

ME: Ummmmm.

ME: Ummmm. That’s pro, right?

WIFE: Of course.

ME: Ummm, well, no, not really.

WIFE: Really?

ME: Yeah. I have no desire in seeing a pro football game. Momma knows Daddy only likes to watch LSU college football. And tennis. And motocross.

WIFE: But the tickets are free?

ME: Well, frankly, I’d rather sit at home and read a book.

WIFE: You’re so boring.

ME: Look, go marry some neanderthal jock if that’s what you want. Anyway, I’ll go with you if you want. I don’t mind. But you asked me if I wanted to go. I have no positive, independent desire to go, but I’ll go with you as a favor if you want.

WIFE: They are good seats.

ME: Okay. Maybe we can leave early.

WIFE: Sure.

ME: Maybe we could bring Mr. Bean? (i.e., Ethan, aka Butterbean)

WIFE: Uhhh, I guess. I don’t see why not. I don’t think a baby needs his own ticket, does he?

ME: I dunno. We can try it.

ME: Alright. Let’s do it. I’m pumped up. Really. Rah rah.

I despise the way most journalists write their stories. They start out by alluding to something that happened but you have to read way into the story to sort of “unwind” it to figure out what the hell they are talking about. And sometimes it’s never clear. Take this example: Man wanted in brutal carjacking. It starts off:

September 8, 2004 — The search for a suspect in a brutal carjacking continues in Algonquin and Lake in the Hills. The vehicle and another suspect were found in the north suburbs but the carjacking and shooting took place in Chicago.

The Lake in the Hills Police Department dispatchers fielded about a dozen calls from residents concerned about suspicious people in the area. As the search for the second suspect continues, a man taken into custody a couple of days ago after the carjacking and police chase has been transferred to Chicago

Police Department. Detectives are questioning him, but he has not been charged yet.

They refer to “the carjacking” as if we know what they are referring to. Oh–the BRUTAL one. That one. I see.

I hate this meandering, evasive, elusive, evocative type of writing. I prefer it to be direct. Plain. Start from the beginning, explain any context, clearly state conclusions and opinions.

I recall a quote by Andy Warhol or someone else pop-ish like him, something like, “We’re trapped in this game called life, and we’re not gonna make it out alive.” Anyone know the original quote? I can’t find it or remember it exactly.