Badges? We don' need no...

My brane is all full of US Marshals data--preliminary research for Delta Green. I'm slowly gaining a coherent picture of how they fit into the larger law enforcement picture. Yay for learning! I am, however, entertained by the extreme caginess of their data on the Special Operations Group (the special-forces section of the Marshals Service), which is encouraging my imagination to run rampant.

In other news, Steve's mom has apparently known for a week now that her angioplasty might not, in fact, be on the 9th. He only found out last night when he called to tell her what his flight information was. Response? "Oh, well, I figured you could just come out both weekends." I guess I failed to get the memo about how we're made of money and vacation time, too. I wonder if she'll ever figure out that the more she tightens her fingers, the more her son will slip through her grasp. I'm betting not.

My mornings these days are generally divided into three types of cleanup:

* misdirected YOU SENT US A VIRUS!!1! warnings, which I have bitched about extensively before;

* "Oooer, this mail says it's from you my ISP, what's up with it?!", which I have also bitched about extensively, but let me add that we made a system announcement about it three weeks ago;

* "Hyuk hyuk, this mail says it's from you my ISP, but I'm l33t and I know it's not! Ain't I the cheese? Here, I'm sure you want MORE MORE MORE copies of it. [possible extension, 'to hunt down the bad men behind it'.]" No we bloody well don't, we know about it, which if you're so smart you'd know because we made a system announcement about it three weeks ago. And no, we are not the US Marshals of the Intarwebbyhighway, and we do not track down the authors of worms, why the fuck do you think we do?

I told Joe he doesn't get to wear the curmudgeon hat today. It's mine, all mine.

That little extra to show they care.

Another joyous clusterfuck brought to you by our bastard hybrid accounting system that any given person only knows some small portion of.

This is promising.

My leg has healed sufficiently so I can stretch out almost all the way without howling agony. I think I might well be in full order by the end of the week, finally.

Am stuck on the stupid mini remote-control helicopter mission in Vice City. The control mechanism just isn't parsing for me. Feh.