Shaving my back
I made the mistake of shaving my back. Or, I should say, I attempted to shave my back. Every time I ran the clippers over my skin more hair came off. I gave up and there are still logs sprouting off my upper arms just shy of the shoulder blades. Where do you stop? yeesh. What have I begun.
Picture of me
Every one complains that there are no pictures of me. Well, here is one that Lillian took from work. This was taken late in the game. I was logy from ice-cream and sitting in the sun. Love it or lump it, that's me.
There was an explosion at a stadium that killed the president of Chechnya. The bomb was placed in a cement column months before the event. That is scary as hell. That means years of planning. That means a cover up, a plot, a conspiracy.
Some one had to sit down and think about to what event the president would appear. Then they had to plan where the event would occur. Then they had to predict where the president would stand. Then they had to plant the device. Then they had to set it off. I wander if they just had a timer. That would mean knowing that this historic date would happen on the same day, and that they always have the ceremony at the same time in the same place. Maybe some one involved in the choreography of the president's moves was in on it. It boggles the mind.
I suppose they were renovating the stadium for this specific event. I bet they published the date and time of the event before the renovations were complete. I bet it was obvious (a podium next to a pillar) where the president would stand during some speech. I wander if they used a timer or if they set the device off with some kind of remote.
So, all you project engineers out there, be ware. The bad guys are watching your schedule. Make sure you think about what terrorists might do with your plans and schedule information before you hand them over to the contractors (who bid amazingly low) who hate your client enough to kill them.