Brian Keaney

Month: March, 2011

I will go up to the six fingered man and say…

…Hello.  My name is Inigo Montoya.  You killed my father.  Prepare to die.

Just before I left work today I got an email from the corporate blog announcing that a new post was online.  I decided to wait until the following day to read it, and didn’t even check the headline.  I then began closing programs on my screen.  As I got down to Seesmic, I noticed that someone had tweeted at us a few minutes prior.  Turns out, it was Inigo Montoya, a star of one of my favorite movies.

The blog post uses “inconceivable!,” that classic Vizzini catchphrase, in the title.  It seems someone has set up a robot to respond every time someone tweets it with, “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”  Inigo also tweets several other great lines such as, “You seem a decent fellow.  I hate to kill you.”

Absolutely brilliant.  Even the dred pirate Robert would agree, I’m sure.  Count Rugen, maybe not so much.

Enhanced by Zemanta

I may be an aging, borderline psycho, but I have a plan

Two seemingly unrelated things happened this week.  First of all, I flipped the calendar in my office.  While the picture of cherry blossoms in bloom are almost enough to make me miss the District, it’s yet another reminder that I am one month closer to July and that normally joyful day.

Secondly, I picked up a new book, Cultivating Conscience: How Good Laws Make Good People.  In one chapter the author includes a list of seven criteria, any three of which are enough to get a diagnosis as a psychopath, or, as it is known by smart people, antisocial personality disorder.  I could make a strong argument that I meet two of them currently, and at various points in my life have easily hit at least three or four of them.  Needless to say, this is mildly distressing.

It also leads me to the connection between the two.  I’ve decided that I need to put a positive spin on the upcoming milestone-birthday-that-shall-not-be-named.  Realizing that I will be in my early 30s and not my late 20s was a step in the right direction, but not nearly enough.  Instead, I’ve decided that I will do 30 shots that weekend.

That’s 30 shots of booze from (at least) a standard size shot glass, and does not include any beers or mixed drinks consumed over the 48 hour period.  Not only does it give me something to look forward to, it also give me a goal to train for.  Who needs the James Joyce Ramble when there is the Brian Keaney Stupor?

My birthday also falls on the Lord’s Day this year.  To some it may be known as the first day of the week but for me, especially in the summer, it is better regarded as the end of the weekend.  When I show up at work the next morning – early, natch – wearing a newly pressed suit and looking fresh as a daisy it will be proof positive that I’m not old.  Only a specimin in his prime or a functional alcoholic could pull off such a feat.  I, clearly, am the former, no matter what the DSM IV says.

Enhanced by Zemanta