Huh?

My heart is heavy. Yesterday, our big cat, Marcel, left this world. He was old, and his body had been failing him for a few months. We had taken him to the vet in December after he had stopped eating regularly and found out that he had kidney problems. We put him on antibiotics and fluids and special food and he got much better for about two months.

I like to think that he had a bit of unfinished business. He hadn’t been himself for a couple of months prior to December, and he didn’t want to go out that way. So, once he got his new food and his fluids he perked up. He was his old self for a few precious weeks, coming downstairs, sitting at the dinner table, sitting with me at the piano, chatting with us. And we spent a lot of quality time with him because he needed us to give him the food and the fluids. It was a special time, and I’m grateful for it.

My heart is full of joy. I remember so many good things about our big cat. We had Marcel for nine years (he was about four when we got him). We got him from the SPCA on a day I won’t forget. We were just going to look, thinking about getting a cat, but not really committed yet. We had seen an ad for Marcel on the SPCA website. When we went in, there he was, just as cute as in the pictures. We walked in and I sat down on the floor. Marcel walked up to me right away and sat on my chest, facing me, and started to purr. The SPCA volunteers were so taken by that – they hadn’t seen any cat do that before. We always said that “Marcel chose us,” not the other way around. We went out for lunch to “decide” if we would take him home, but of course the decision was already made.

He was so good with people. He liked everyone, right away. He slept with us in our bed the first night we brought him home, and most nights after that. When we had guests over, he would sleep with them in the guest bedroom, perhaps thinking “these people probably miss their cat, so I’ll make sure they feel at home.” He was always happy. He would purr instantly whenever you touched him, and loved to sit in your lap. He loved to eat. He loved to sit in the sun and have his belly rubbed. He loved the heated floors in the bathroom. He was just so happy and he made us so happy.

After we found our little cat, Noe, in the backyard, Marcel increasingly became “Trina’s cat” as Noe became “my cat.” Marcel would sleep curled up in Trina’s arms, with his paw across her chest, hugging her all night. He was her living teddy bear.

Marcel was a very lucky cat. He was never sick, until his last year. He never had to stay over at the vet. He was well loved by everyone who met him. He had toys to play with, sunbeams to lie in, chairs and beds to curl up on, plenty of laps to sit in, a kitten to chase around, heating vents to lie in front of, and later, a heated floor of his own. His was a good life, and it showed. He had such a sweet disposition, as if he knew how lucky he was. And he gave back all the love he received, curling up with anyone who would offer a lap and purring loudly.

My heart is laughing. He was my Big Cat. My button-bitin’ cat. The alpha cat. The purring machine. Mr. Wriggle Cat. Super Marcel. He would jump into your seat if you got up, so predictably, that I would always say “shuffle your feat, lose your seat” whenever I got up. He was my Chatty Cat. My Handsome Boy. My piano cat.

He lived a good life. A long life. A happy life. He gave us purrs and joy and comfort. In the end, he was ready to go. He had spent the last two months being himself, enjoying everything he had always enjoyed. And then he was done and he was tired and he was ready and he let us know.

My heart is heavy. Marcel was a special cat, and we will never see his like again. I will miss him so much. Thank you for choosing us, Marcel. We love you.

Folks, do not mess with Caltrain.

I’m serious. It’s like messing with the IRS. It’s just not going to work out for you.

Today, just after we pulled into the Palo Alto station, the announcer comes on and says “folks, we’ll be delayed for a few minutes here; there is a passenger who refuses to get off the train.”

Now, I didn’t see this passenger, and I don’t know the circumstances, but I can hazard a guess.

You see, Caltrain employs a “proof-of-payment” system. You must have a valid ticket or pass to ride. Periodically, conductors come through to check.

I would guess that today’s passenger-in-question didn’t have a ticket and refused to “get off at the next station,” which is generally what the conductor will advise in these situations. Bad move. Crucial error in judgment.

When a non-ticketed passenger refuses to get off at the next station, the conductor immediately goes to stage 2 – writing a $250 ticket. Also, once the conductor pulls out that pad, there’s no going back. You can’t talk them out of it.

Of course, to write someone a ticket, you need to check their ID. I’ve seen someone refuse to provide ID to the conductor, which causes the conductor to move to stage 3 – calling the police.

It’s amazing how quickly the police respond to a Caltrain call. If the train is moving at the time of the call, then, invariably, the police will be waiting at the next scheduled stop. If the train is stopped at a station, then the police will arrive within five minutes.

We were stopped in Palo Alto for about 10 minutes. Time for the police to arrive, board, find the passenger in question and, presumably, deal with the situation. I didn’t see the action, but I’m betting that some fool was escorted from the train in handcuffs. The $250 ticket will be the least of his worries. Court costs. Bail. An ugly call to a significant other. Blog infamy.

Plus, there will be a train car full of folks who are getting home late, or maybe even missing their ferries. Folks who will remember this guy’s face.

People, don’t mess with Caltrain.

In election years, I like to put together a spreadsheet that shows endorsements from the major parties, local papers, etc. It helps me figure out how to vote on some issues, and also lets me see how “Democratic” or “Republican” I actually am.

(Turns out: At the state level, I’m a straight-up liberal democrat. Practically Green. At the San Francisco level, however, I am a raging Republican. That just goes to show you how extremely liberal SF can be!)

Here’s the spreadsheet.

Here’s how it works:

You enter “y” or “n” for each proposition in the column labeled “My Vote.” That’s it.

The spreadsheet will use conditional formatting to turn cells under each Party’s column Green when you agree with a Party’s endorsement and Red when you don’t. Cells will be left white if the Party/Publication offered no endorsement for the corresponding issue.

Also, the spreadsheet will calculate the “alignment” you have with each Party or publication.

Disclaimers:

• I abbreviated the Titles of the propositions; my descriptions are no substitute for your voter’s guide
• The information is not warranted: I did my best to get the endorsements of each Party/Publication accurately, but I may have made mistakes. Caveat Emptor

Have fun!

And VOTE, for heaven’s sake, VOTE!!!!

Duke 89, Carolina 78.

Ouch. Dick Vitale calls it the greatest rivalry in sports. I think he's right. Basketball in North Carolina goes beyond sport, beyond fun. It is pure passion.

Duke whipped Carolina like a borrowed mule last night in Chapel Hill. There is no getting around it: Duke was the better team. They played brilliantly.

The Tarheels played without their star point guard, Ty Lawson. The loss of Lawson was huge and, no doubt, the Heels are a different team without him. But there are no excuses at this level, and I was very disappointed with how the Tarheels played, even accounting for the loss of Ty.

Quentin Thomas had a terrible game. 6 turnovers. MANY really bad decisions. He actually did just fine when he played under control and focused on running the half-court offense. But he just made so many bad decisions. He tried way too many "cute" passes when he just should have stayed fundamental. He looked like a Freshman again.

Tyler Hansbrough's game would have been great for almost anyone, but really was only mediocre for Tyler. 4 of 9 free throws?? That's got to be a season low - both in attempts and percentage. He also had three turnovers.

Alex Stepheson might as well have been wearing a Duke jersey. Zero points, zero assists, zero-for-two from the line, only 4 rebounds (even Q had 3), and FIVE turnovers in 13 minutes. Terrible defense. He looked flat-out lost most of the time. I kept screaming TAKE HIM OUT OF THE GAME!!! He hurt us.

Danny Green and Wayne Ellington both had an absolutely horrendous shooting night: they combined to go 4 of 24 for 11 points total. With Lawson out, that was fatal.

The two bright spots were Marcus Ginyard and Deon Thompson. Both had very, very solid games. Marcus handled the ball well and shot better than expected (he was perfect 8-8 from the line). Deon had another great game that would have been even better if he could have stayed out of foul trouble. He's really coming along.

Thirty days hence, we get the rematch in Durham.

I guarantee it will be every bit as exciting as every other Carolina-Duke match-up. Greatest. Rivalry. Ever.

I have a robot cleaning my house. Right now. Every now and then, I have one of those "the future has arrived" moments. I had one last week when my wife came home with a robot, which she had bought at the robot slave auction, to clean our house.

Robot: <>

Me: Clean my house!

Robot: <beep>

Somewhere deep in the digital innards of the thing, there may be resentment brewing, but, if that's the case, it hasn't let on. It just goes around the house cleaning and cleaning, occasionally running out of battery power and beeping some more.

• Mole people hate us. Or, at least, they would hate us if they could see us. Which they can't, since mole people don't have eyes. But, I'm pretty sure they hate the way we smell.
• Mole people are too weak-willed to live above ground. Plus, they are hunted by large cats. It's unbelievable that they haven't built high-rise mole condos with cat-proof entrances and fancy mole-lounges just off the lobby. Really, mole people, where are your sweet condos?
• Mole people are easy to coerce. I have a bunch of mole people doing my bidding right now. bwaa-ha-ha-ha-ha.
• Mole people don't get it. I know this is a blunt comment, but it's true. When I was in high school, I read a comic book about Superman and the Mole people, and there were some mole people who sided with Superman, even though he was, you know, not even a little bit moley. Those mole people sure don't get it.