All right you few and faithful GladPadiators. The ole GP has made an exciting step into the future. And by future, I mean, it has left the technology of 1997 in the dust, and might have even ventured into (gasp) the 21st century! I hope that you have noticed that gladpad.com is now equipped with frames! Yes, you can scroll up and down on the right side of the page, while the left side stays still! Holy Cow! It's amazing. Thanks for your support.

All right, ya'll! I know it's been forever and everyone is wondering why there have been so few pictures. And ever since my faithful old Canon PowerShot S50 gave up the will to live (thanks to Antarctic temperatures, methinks), I was so stricken with grief that I was reluctant to purchase another.

But never fear, the period of mourning has come to an end and I would like to take this opportunity to welcome Canon PowerShot SD700 IS to the family. She's 6 megapixels of 4x optical zoom beauty. Our little pillow angel is no bigger than a pack of Camel Lights. So be looking for new pictures - I promise to get off my butt and actually take some...

Hello my few and faithful GladPadiators, I know that it has been forever since anything has become of our lovely little website. Without making any excuses, it is because I have no camera. My dear sweet old photomaker, that has traveled the world with me (Antarctica, New Zealand, Japan, most of the USA and practically all of Western Europe) has finally decided that it has given up hope. And it has given up hope by telling me that it has a "Memory card error."

I have tried not to blame my lovely Canon for this boldfaced lie, since it has proven not to be a memory card error, but a camera device driver error, or something like that. Nonetheless, it has given up the ghostview. So never fear and bare with me during this time of technical difficulty. My love for the Canon product is undying, let it be known, and I will be back soon with even lovelier color photos...

So, Jim and Chrystal and I had the first BBQ of the season. The weather was beautiful and we made a totally unreasonable number of steak- shrimp- mushroom- pepper- onion-kababs. And it's only three weeks until my sweet little lady Leah is to arrive here in the Bruns, the New Bru.

So I'm out here in the beautiful Utah desert doing my last shift for the great HiRes instrument. The weather is proving to be a bit of a poo for my last days here. It even hailed today. Hail in the desert? Is't even possible? Seems like a weird thing. But I guess that what we get for global warming...

I know, I know - nobody's going to be racing to comment on the nothing that I've written so far, but let it be known that it is now possible to comment. That's all. Thanks. Later. Seriously, later. No really.

So, now my main intention with this whole GladBlah(tm) thing was of course NOT to fall in to the ever-deepening Blogpit that surrounds us. But, if there are any of you out there who are occasional visitors to the ole GP (Hi Dicky) have noticed, I don't really ever write anything on this here Blah.

So, today, I have taken it upon myself to automate the damn thing, so that, in my laziness, it will be even easier for me to jot down an uninteresting thought or two. Ah, yes, and maybe (just maybe) I'll put in a little comments section. Whatch'all think about that!?

So, Leah and I were just talking and she came up with a fantastic concept. So, one member of an amorous couple says something like, "Do you love me?" in a kind of dreamy-eyed baby-faced way, which immediately prompts the other lover to dote and gush symphathetic lovelies. This call for attention should henceforth be known as "Pavlove." It's a great concept, no? Stimulus and response in its highest human form.

I enjoy the concept of having a bass line. There was a group of physicists that I knew quite well in St. Louis, all of whom worked in the spicy hot field of medical physics - nuclear magnetic resonance to be exact - who strutted around campus, all sporting denim jackets and blue jeans. Now, in my world, this is known as the "all-denim no-no," perhaps one of the most severe fashion faux pas. Not that I have any idea about fashion in any way, but still...

Anyhow, this group of guys, a hodge-podge of skinny, fat, old and young, needed a bass line to accompany their macho walkabouts, something a little funky, with light-hearted nerdy overtones, if at all possible. Even if it meant carrying around some old ghetto blaster on one of their shoulders (which might even have made their denim getups a little more palatable), a bass line would have been nice.

And so I noticed as I turned off the 60 Hertz hum of the bathroom bulb and walked into the living room where sat my old 10-watt amp there on the floor chained to my shiny black Gibson guitfiddle... The bass line continued. It's quite fantastic if you think about it - the more powerful this bass line becomes in our day-to-day lives. One day babies may be born recognizing this pitch, speaking in it, dreaming in it. A-440 will be replaced with A-480. What a brave strange world that would be...

Ahh, but then again, there's this... The standard width of most bathroom stalls (and shower stalls for that matter - the ones with sliding glass doors), resonate quite well somewhere slightly FLAT of A. This is a somewhat universal fact, as I have noticed singing low and colorlessly in the shower or humming whilst I poo in various locations throughout the South, Midwest and Northeast. Maybe A-flat will rule the world instead...

Or maybe the two will simply average together and we'll be right back where we started again... What a pain in the A.