2004 Kinetics – Lutfey.com

Well folks, it’s that time of year again– the days are getting shorter, annoying Christmas music is playing at the mall, the political forces that run our nation are gearing up for the next presidential election, and, of course, it’s time to publish my third annual Christmas letter. This brings up the question of whether I should even try to construct a letter that surpasses the high standard that I set for myself when writing the first two Christmas letters. Consider the world of movies for a moment. By the time they get to making a third movie in a series it pretty much just sucks. I am sure they meant well when they made “Superman 3”, but putting Christopher Reeves, Richard Prior, and a wacky evil computer together isn’t something to be proud of. Even “Return of the Jedi” wasn’t as good as its predecessors. Oh no, they built ANOTHER Death Star for the good guys to blow up at the very end. On the other hand, I listened to the School House Rock CD (which I own, of course) and learned that three is a magic number. I don’t think they would have made a number magical if there was an inherent problem with it. In conclusion (of the introduction), I know the risks but I am none the less going to give it a shot. If you are not completely satisfied with this product, just send any unused portion to the address provided for a full refund.

In case you didn’t already know, I left my job at Saxe, Inc. Among other things, the thought of developing software to help companies send out more junk mail slowly wore down my will to live. After a while I would wake up in the morning and stare at the ceiling thinking the world would be a better place if I just called in sick for the day. Even the lure of the cappuccino machine and the ping pong table (see last year’s Christmas letter) wasn’t enough to convince me to stay. My departure was civil and professional, considering the fact that several of the upper level managers were (and to the best of my knowledge still are) minions of Satan.

One of the last things I did before leaving Saxe was use up all of my vacation time on a road trip to see the Indianapolis 500. My friend Tina and I drove a total of 2,048 miles to watch thirty-three men drive around a big loop 200 times. Of course not all of them made it all the way through to finish the race. I don’t have exact numbers, but quite a few of the racers stopped themselves by smashing into the outside walls, a few just ran into each other, and then there was one guy who was driving along minding his own business when his car just caught on fire. I felt bad for the guy, but then a bunch of people came along and extinguished him.

The sheer magnitude of the Indianapolis 500 is impressive. Hundreds of thousands of people converge to the Indianapolis Motor Speedway one day a year to see the big race. The planning required to pull something like this off is extensive– roads are blocked off, businesses are closed down, and special busses are brought in to move the masses more efficiently. Every effort is made to ensure the audience enjoys the race. Having taken all of this into consideration, I don’t understand why they built one of the world’s largest racing facilities in a climate that on average receives more precipitation during the last weekend in May than the entire Amazon Basin gets all year. I guess I am still a little bitter about the fact that we were forced to go to the race track three different days before the race track was dry enough to get the race finished.

I really should have had a new job lined up BEFORE I left my old job at Saxe, but then it would have been a lot harder to take the entire summer off. After a few weeks of doing no productive work, I realized my summer needed a little more structure. Applying the theory that there cannot be light without darkness, good without evil, and “tastes great” without “less filling” to my otherwise unproductive summer free time, I decided to go back to school to start working toward my Masters Degree. After a rather flimsy search, I decided to take a graduate level mathematics class at the University of Colorado at Denver. It was rough, but twice a week all summer I got up, shaved, showered, and made my way to downtown Denver in time for my 4 PM class– even if it was raining. A lesser person might have just stayed home and watched that old episode of “The A Team” where George Peppard and company save the defenseless workers from the evil bad guy while narrowly eluding the military forces that are relentlessly pursuing them for the crime they didn’t commit. You know the one. Anyway, I got through summer school with only minor bruises and am planning on receiving my Masters degree sometime in the next 8 to 10 years.

All good things must come to an end, and my “summer of unemployment” was no exception. After evaluating my bank account, I begrudgingly realized that an “autumn of unemployment” was not a financial option. I started sending my resume out to companies and eventually was hired at company called Rogue Wave Software. Rogue Wave’s current focus involves brokering brides of the Philippines to wealthy but socially underdeveloped gentlemen. Of course it’s all a front to hide the fact they are really developing, marketing, and supporting digital dynamic reusable hierarchical multi-platform modularized procedural language libraries.

I am currently working in the Technical Support division of Rogue Wave Software. We have constructed an international array of computers connected through a highly evolved network of PPP, ISDN, and T1 telecommunication lines that allow for the fast, efficient, and reliable movement of information allowing us to seamlessly communicate in our ever increasing global community. Does this investment in time and money improve our relationship with our customers? I don’t know, but it runs Quake really well.

One of the more interesting aspects of this job, besides, of course, playing Quake, involves the notion that part of our responsibility involves helping the customers so they don’t have to call us in the first place. To achieve this goal we are constantly reporting bugs in our software, finding problems with our documentation, and publishing helpful hints on the Internet. The more successful we become at this venture the more people get fired due to a decrease in the number of customer calls. But, since most of us in technical support were just recently hired, we are only performing our jobs at a level where our wages are garnished.

With the possible exception of leaving a bunch of store bought tortillas in my refrigerator for an entire year just to see what would happen (they shattered when I tried to move them), I believe that my crowning accomplishment of the year would have to be the day that I completed all the levels on the “Duke Nukem 3D” CD that I bought for my computer in January. Anyone can get through a few levels and then give up, but I had what it takes to get through all 30 levels (and one of the secret levels that I am not allowed to talk about) without getting burned out. Sure, I could have stopped half way through and gone outside or read a book, but that would have been a cop out. I stuck by my guns– knowing that I made it down a path where so few see any value whatsoever.

I am sending this letter by E-mail as much as possible in an effort to promote living environmentally friendly lifestyles. Remember to recycle folks, because if you don’t all of us will have to live with the garbage until the sun runs out of fuel and collapses on itself with the resulting explosion enveloping the planet Earth as we know it– instantaneously converting countless generations of accomplishments back into the basic building blocks of matter from which we were created. And that’s a long time.

That about wraps things up here. If you ever question how to live your life, just remember what everyone tells John Cusack in the movie “Better Off Dead”– “Go that way really fast. If something gets in your way, turn.”

Commander Data and Captain Jean-Luc Picard are sitting in the Enterprise ready room.

Commander Data comments, “I find this mission to be highly illogical, Captain.”

Captain Picard replies, “Yes, I know, but we have no choice but to go through with the alliance.”

“But the Enterprise has fought off many worthy adversaries—why should we give up without even firing a single photon torpedo?”

“Listen Mr. Data, we survived numerous adventures over the years, but trust me, this time resistance IS futile. Let’s just get it over with and move on.”

Picard and Data walk out of the ready room on to the main bridge of the Enterprise. The room is empty except for two men poised with cameras. Picard walks over to a waiting camera man, briefly pauses, and starts reading from a script. “This is the true story of seven strangers, picked to live on a starship and have their lives holographically recorded, and find out what happens when people stop being polite and start getting REAL. The Real World: The Next Generation!”

Picard gestures at the turbolift and continues, “And now let’s welcome the seven young strangers who will be running the Enterprise on her next mission.”

Four girls and three guys in their early twenties sheepishly walk out of the turbolift and on to the bridge. After brief introductions with Captain Picard and Commander Data, the Captain explains the mission. “With the assistance of Commander Data and myself, the seven of you will be in charge of…” The captain rolls his eyes and quietly sighs to himself. “…delivering a shipment of Ramulan ale to the resort planet Risa. While this may not be the most dangerous mission ever attempted, you will have to learn about ship navigation, interstellar communications, and of course… “

“Hey everyone, I just found a ****load of Ramulan ale in the cargo hold,” one of the seven strangers who apparently snuck off during the introductions yelled as he burst out of the turbo lift, “and someone loaded thrity-seven different erotic hot tub programs on to the holodeck’s computer! Let’s get it on!”

The seven strangers start celebrating and giving each other high fives as they head towards the holodeck—completely forgetting about the Captain and their new mission.

The next scene shows the seven strangers getting drunk in the hot tub. Picard and Data are sitting in the tub still in their complete uniforms looking awkward and uncomfortable.

“Dude, I am sooooo wasted on this Ramulan ale… what all is in it?” One of the seven asked.

Sandy and Jill started a conversation. “So if you could do anyone here, who would it be?”

“Honestly?” Jill asked.

Sandy replied, “Yeah.”

“It may just be that I’m really drunk right now,” Jill confessed, “But I think it would be that robot guy.”

Commander Data, hearing his name, cocked his head slightly and addressed the girl’s comment. “I am fully functional, programmed in multiple techniques.”

“Data!” Picard snapped, “We need to get things moving here. We must to get to Risa as fast as possible so we can move on to our next REAL mission—delivering badly needed medical supplies to Barrius 3.”

One of the other women in the hot tub piped up. “It may be because my grandfather did bad, bad things to me when I was young, but that bald English guy is looking pretty good to me right about now if I could just convince him to spank me for not cleaning up my room perfectly. Is that a bad thing?”

The Captain got shivers just thinking how many things were wrong with the entire situation. Picard yelled out, “Enough is enough. Computer—end holodeck program and seal off the cargo hold to everyone but myself and Commander Data. The rest of you will get into a regulation Star Fleet uniform and report the main bridge in ten minutes.”

Captain Picard starting walking briskly out of the holodeck. “Commander, you are with me.” He ordered. Data looked over at Jill, made a telephone gesture with his thumb and pinky and silently mouthed the words “fully functional” before following the Captain to the bridge.

Eventually, everyone finds their way into uniforms and to the main bridge. The Captain starts explaining how to operate various functions on the ship. “Everything can be accessed through voice commands to the computer.” The Captain explained. “For example: computer—plot a course to Risa.”

The computer responded, “Course laid out. At warp eight we will arrive at Risa in three hours.”

Steve, the one who first located the Ramulan ale, piped up, “Hey computer—you sound pretty hot. What do you look like in a bikini?”

The computer responded, “Please restate the command.”

Captain Picard smacked Steve on the top of his head. “This is not a game! Look, all you guys have to do is tell the computer to engage on the course to Risa and we will be on our way. Do you think we could get that done sometime today?”

Jill looked around and asked the Captain, “So which one of us gets to say ‘engage’?”

“What? It doesn’t matter. Someone says it and the ship starts moving.” The Captain explained.

“I think we need to have a ship-wide meeting to decide.” Steve said.

“I give up! Commander Data—you are in charge. If they can’t decide who gets to say ‘engage’ in the next ten minutes Data will say it. I’ll be in my quarters reading Great Expectations until we get to Risa.” The Captain ordered as he walked towards the turbolift.

Three hours later Picard and Data are waving goodbye to the seven Real World members on the planet of Risa displayed on the main screen on the bridge.

“Captain,” Data started, “I found this mission provided me with a unique insight into the human condition.”

“What are you talking about Data?” the Captain asked, “This was nothing more than seven spoiled kids allowed to run around the ship for the entertainment of the holoprojector audience. What is insightful about that?”

“After you retired to you quarters,” Data explained, “with the aid of my newly installed emotion chip, Jill demonstrated several ways to make me even more fully functional, if you know what I mean.”

Not sure how to respond to Data’s last comment, the captain replied, “Plot a course to Barrius 3, warp 9, Commander.”

“Course plotted,” Data replied. “Captain, can I ask you a question?”

“What is it Data?”

“Can I say ‘engage’ this time?” Data asked.

“Sure Data.” The Captain said, with a hint of resignation in his voice.

“Engage.”