We have seen the future, and it sucks.


Everything you always wanted to know … is mostly none of your damned business. Deal with it.

My in-box for this site is Tim at DyspepsiaGeneration.com. if you have something to say that doesn’t fit in the category of a comment, that’s the address to use.


It all started with me mailing a select list of friends some “BrainFood”, collections of links that I had run across and thought might interest them.

Said friends, faced at times with emails consisting of nothing but dozens of links, suggested that I might want to give them some idea of what was what, so they could read the stuff they found interesting and skip the stuff they didn’t have time for. (Would that life offered that option….)

So I decided to adopt the blog format.

All comments are moderated, because when you leave the door open you never know what’s going to wander in and poop on the rug. See here and here for examples. (I hate it when that happens.)


Hey, it’s a blog — it’s all about me, right? That’s why I’m an INTJ.

My first experience in life was being beaten by a licensed professional who was paid for the service by my parents. This has led to a life of low expectations in which I have seldom been disappointed.

I’m Tim of Angle.

  • Yes, that is my Real Name.
  • You’re right, you’ve never seen a name like that before.
  • Yes, I really have heard every possible comment that can be made about my name.
  • No, I really don’t want to hear the Clever Thing that you just thought of. Don’t even think about it.

“Angle? Where’s that?” Here. My people came from there about 800 years ago. Being Normans, they probably owned the place. Never been there, don’t plan to go.

I got my BA in History, Economics and Political Science from Yale, and my MBA & JD from Indiana seven years later … so of course I’m a data architect who builds data warehouses for a living. (Other than an English major who winds up as an Airborne Ranger, I can’t think of a more tightly-focused career plan.)

By nature I’m a teacher and historian, but I don’t do that because the pay sucks … except at a university; but then you have to sell your soul to the Identity Politics perverts. I’ll do anything for love, but I won’t do that. Besides, I have the wrong skin color and a Y chromosome, so I’d never get hired. But, hey, life is full of hardship.

Be Warned! I am lacking certain significant genes:

  • The JumpShot gene. When I pass underneath an awning or archway, I feel absolutely no urge to jump up and try to touch it. It’s Too Much Like Work.
  • The PimpMyRide gene. Automobiles come in two types: Weird and Boring. Weird cars include the one that looks like a bug, the one that looks like it’s owned by somebody named Guido, the ones that look like toasters with wheels, and the ones that obviously cost more than I’ll make in my lifetime. Boring cars include everything else. Don’t talk to me about cars.
  • The Sports gene. Sports are for people who like to sweat. I don’t like to sweat. I have spent half a century attempting to exclude sweat from my milieu. Don’t talk to me about sports.
  • The ThirdBigLie gene. I quit believing government employees in 1964 when the Warren Commission Report came out. Don’t go there.
  • The HormonalMusic gene. I quit listening to popular music when I got out of the Navy and had to get a Real Life. Don’t talk to me about popular music.
  • The Seinfeld gene. I quit watching television when I graduated from college and discovered that I had developed some taste. Don’t talk to me about what’s on television.

I have three goals in life:

  1. Never talk to anybody I don’t already know.
  2. Never go anywhere I haven’t already been.
  3. Never eat anything I don’t already like.

(I’m sure there’s a fancy medical term for that.)

Of course, as with all goals, these are only imperfectly achievable — but a man’s reach must exceed his grasp. Ambition is what makes America great. (Or did, once; things seem to have changed recently.)

Some men see things as they are and say “why?”
I dream of things that never were and say “Whoa, that was close….”