to pass the time in meetings, it's fun to match the participants to a celebrity look alikes. today i met with peter brady (brady bunch), rusty (mad tv), herman munster (the munsters) and chucky (child's play). it makes recounts of the meeting much more entertaining.

so then chucky tells herman he is stuck in a paradighm and must think outside the box. Peter said there was no time, with implementation in only a week. rusty freaked, claiming standardized methodologies and processes might delay the project.

peter brady is kind of a prick.

above is a screen capture from CNN only minutes ago.

not sure i am interested in an interactive story on sodomy.

the mouse goes where!?

we at ultramicroscopic share your concern about that thing on your arm. to aid you in self diagnosis of the malady of the month, we provide you with the above guide. simply match the thing on your arm to the proper malady.

once diagnosed there is no need to notify any health care official, simply take a bath with your toaster.

whatever you do, do NOT call the news media! i'm tired of hearing about you sick ass.

i wanna go bowling.

not later, i mean right now.

i wanna go bowling bad, right now.

...

nevermind, the feeling has passed. what the hell was i thinking?

i no longer give people "yes" or "no" confirmation when invited to any type of event. i respond with the percentage that represents the chance of participation. similar to a meteorologist's "chance of precipitation". also similar to the meteorologist, i can not be blamed if completely wrong.

friends with no children (or wife) have a hard time understanding this type of answer. that's because they control their destiny. they unknowingly make hundreds of simple decisions daily that drive that destiny. I make no decisions, my destiny is driven by others.

if i predict there is a 40% chance of participation when invited to happy hour at 6pm, that mean there is a 23% chance i could be watching cartoon network, a 17% i could be in a hospital emergency room, a 11% chance i could be building a pillow fort, a 7% chance i could be attending a youth soccer game, oh and a 2% chance i will be passed out drunk in my underwear watching sports center. any one of these activities could break out at any time, and all are beyond my control.

generally the chance of participation is fairly low. know you are lucky if i ever respond with a chance over 40%. here are some examples of recent predictions.

4th birthday party for neighbor's kid, 95% chance
baby shower for wife's friend, 70% chance
wearing sponge bob underwear on my head, 63% chance
falling asleep at the mcdonald's fun land, 51% chance
re-claiming my children from child protective services, 42% chance
staying at the ballpark for 4 innings, 38% chance
staying at the ballpark for 9 innings, 12% chance
all night poker game with beer buddies, 2% chance
lost weekend in vegas involving black jack, tequila, the bunny ranch, and 5 asian dwarfs, 0% chance

last weekend we visited a very rural texas town.

i stopped at a convenience store to purchase beer. i put the 6 pack on the counter. the clerk looked at the beer, then up at me and asked "you want some minnows with that?"

the assumption being, if you are buying beer, you must be on your way down to the fishin' hole and you will be needing some bait.

later that day, we had dinner at the all you can eat catfish shack. my wife asked if they served beer, the waitress replied in a whisper "no, but if you have some in your truck, i can give you a cup".

the assumption being, every one driving 'round them parts gots beer in the truck (next to the minnows).

as we left the all you can eat cat fish shack, i over heard the owner say to an extremely large man in motorcycle leathers "well, i can cook you up a little sump'in, but i can't give ya the all you can eat deal."

the assumption being, the large man would eat all the catfish, wash it down with every ones beer and swallow all the minnows for dessert.

brilliant corners pointed me to an article that touches on some some similar thoughts that I have been having lately.

late last year zeldman did a public redesign of his site. visible changes happened daily. some minor some major, some even seemingly contradictory to changes made the previous week or sometimes day. At SxSW in the spring he talked about the redesign. his main reason for doing it publicly was to share the redesign process and the thoughts in action with his readers (largely made up of web developers). his was not the first to transform before his users eyes, but definitely the first high profile site of some one regarded as a direction setter in the industry.

i am a great fan of zeldman, but this irritated me greatly. it seems like a whimpy way out. as a visual designer, i take a stand right or wrong with my designs. the potential for failure has always been an accepted risk. as a visual designer i am presenting a specific identity or persona to my users. I only want them to see the finished product, i do not want them peeking behind the curtain.

so, why are we seeing this more and more often?

because we can. technology is the enabler. css and content management systems make radical visual design changes easier than changing your shirt.

because the precedence has been set in the software industry. i wonder what percentage of my software is the latest most current version available. i bet less than 5%. remember when beta versions were only released to power users? all software now seems to be in a beta like state. browsers are probably the worst offenders, i have always felt that my browser is work in progress rather than a finished product.

because the adoption of user centered design processes justify it. making changes and adjustments on the fly as they are identified in the users actions makes sense. i think back to the days when user testing was only done to "finished" products and laugh. such a simple concept.

because it is a much more casual world than ever before. i used to wear a suit and tie to work every day. at some point the world realized the suit and tie had no correlation to the quality of my work. the quality of the product is more important than an untucked shirt tail now and then.

because this economy sucks. no one is willing to pay for a major redesign. phased approaches are the only thing people are willing to spend money on. identify and fix elements, pay as you go.

i feel all these reasons are valid. so, i will accept these changes to be successful, but i will do it kicking and screaming. i so want to return to the old days. as a visual designer, i love the pomp and circumstance around a relaunch. i love the shock and awe of a newly finished design. i love the debates spurred by a radical redesign. i love the feeling of finishing something.

change is the nature of the beast in this industry. i am fairly certain in 15 years i will look back and laugh thinking of grandiose relaunches of the past and the archaic processes used. processes that had roots in print design, a medium that shares very few similarities to new media.

a little obey giant with a dash of cuban constructivist art, a hint of evil and a splash of old skool pixelated video game art topped with a smarmy catch phrase, and what do you get? a winning shirt design for the dallas chapter of the international game designers association!

coming soon, look for it on the back of a game developer near you!

i know, i know, i fixed the typography issues (font, kerning and leading) in the early comps on the dallas igda site, so get off my back.

1. thanks to those donating or trading for the hand made books, all have been sent out, a few remain if interested (see the box to the right).

2. switched up the highlighted site in the "look over there" section to the right. click immediately and view the broken sasquatch, er... defective yeti.

3. ultramicroscopic posts have suffered lately due to a cool (i hope) personal project that is stealing my time. i need someone with some solid technical skills to help execute my idea. i am looking for a partner who can make movable type jump through hoops, make the site w3/508 compliant, has experience with image galleries, search experience, and enjoys long moon lit walks on the beach. creativity and enthusiasm is highly valued and almost as important as the technical skills! it is voluntary (no pay, just admiration, pride and partial credit) and would consume 20 to 40 hours of your free time over the next month or so. email me, griff-AT-ultramicroscopic.com if interested in helping and would like to discuss further.

every day, when i drive past these hard working men, i want to tell them it is impossible, but who am i to crush a man's dream?

i admire their persistence, after each failure they immediately try again only a few hundred feet down the road.

my father is better than your father.

i know very little about this curious machine, what i do know follows.

- the lingering odor that surround it resemble a combination of rancid cheese, wet dog, and roger ebert.
- a silver hose connects to a hole in the ground, i assume it is a direct line to the bowels of hell.
- it's name (odor demon) also implies family connections with hell.
- the typographic treatment and pathetic logo confirm the machine was in fact designed and manufactured in hell.
- the second (or top) silver hose seem to be some type of orifice interface, i assume it is a painful attachment.

what i do not know...

- i wonder if it is an importer or exporter of odors?
- i wonder if they make one for home use?
- i wonder if the hell end of the silver tube is directly connected to satan's ass?

if you have not noticed, today is bring you brat...er, i mean kid to work day.

hundreds have invaded the workspace and i can lie no longer. truth be told, your kid is not really that cute. she resembles a ferret in dire need of cosmetic dentistry.

and, when i asked your kid what grade he was in, i really don't give a rat's ass, i only asked to be polite. so, when you gave me the extended dance mix answer of the grade, school name, the teachers name, the janitors name, and the story about the kid that smeared boogers in your hair, i was thinking about other things . other things like guessing the over/under on how many years before the parents neuroses make the kid climb a bell tower with a high powered scope and a deer rifle.

i so want to tell many of these kids what a useless jack ass their mother truly is and about the plan to replace her with a chimp. or how their father is an evil, self-centered, ego maniac, micro manager suit that i personally plan to drag into hell one day.

oh, and one more thing, i know my head is freakishly large. if one more kid points and laughs, i will crush them with it.

ultranote - this economy sucks, i think the day should be renamed "bring your kid to the government cheese line day"

the manicure salon next to the donut shop in the strip mall near my home has a buddhist alter surrounded by simple offerings; water, fresh flowers, fresh fruit, incense, and marlboro cigarettes. yep, cigarettes. a fresh pack to the left and a smoldering butt at the center of the alter.

i am not really up on my theology, but i think buddha prefers camels.

my son has been genetically cursed with the same inability of my wife and i to tell a joke.

son 1: dad, what did the grape say when the elephant stepped on him?
me: I don't know, what did the grape say.
son1: nothing he just wanted to get to the other side of the road.
me: hmmm.

actually, he is much better at the improvisational comedy. the latest...

son1: dad, why did the cat cross the road?
me: i don't know, why did the cat cross the road?
son1: to step on the chicken.
me: hmmm.

it would be much funnier if told standing in front of a brick wall.

the other night, we went out to celebrate the wife's sister's birthday. old, married, and the owner of 2 offspring, i am unpracticed in the way of modern interaction between men and women in clubs of the night.

momentarily separated from the wife and sister-in-law, a woman stopped me to ask if i was wearing underwear. i told her i was. she then asked if she could have it. i told her no, it was my lucky pair and i didn't think my wife would approve.

back at the table i told the wife how i nearly lost my underwear. surprisingly, she responded by asking me why i didn't give up the skivvies.

i didn't know i could. I just assumed over the last ten years of marriage that underwear trading was not acceptable behavior. so, now i am in business. anyone out there tired of their current underwear situation and up for a trade?

mine are low mileage, fruit of the loom, tighty whities with only slight skid mark damage.

since moving, we seem to meet new neighbors daily. i discovered the above dwelling attached to my dwelling.

a beautiful and meticulously crafted spherical home about the size of a dime. they are the good neighbors, no late night parties, no domestic disputes, no barking pets, no burdon of small talk when we pass, and never do they borrow tools or a cup of sugar.

the wife does not like these neighbors. she gave immediate orders to destroy the tiny dwelling. she justified the order of destruction by claiming the occupants were harboring stingers of mass destruction and if nothing was done, they may some day deploy the stingers on our children. who am i to blow against the wind?

ultranote - destruction of the dwelling revealed no stingers of mass destruction. i was beginning to feel bad about what i had done until my wife told me the occupants of the dwelling were in cahoots with the fire ants, my long time nemesis.

ultra-ultranote - i have been watching the fire ants for some time now. they seem to work independently, and have no allies. my wife said that was of no concern, what was important was that i had liberated the little guys. but i am not really sure from what. i guess i think too much.