HappyHappyDonut

Finished my last term paper. There won't be one of those for a while (I hope). One less source of stress. Now I have to finish up my thesis project abstract and hand that in as well. And then we are often to the races.

Should go to bed now, but there is Game 6 of the Calgary-Detroit playofff series. 9 minutes left...

I had my final presentation in my sociology class at the University of Montreal. I decided to play for keeps, including a picture of Pierre Trudeau in my presentation. The topic was the evolution of Canadian and American Identities in the intervening years since (the late) Seymour Martin Lipset published Continental Divide in 1990.

This was my second last presentation for my master's degree, but the last one in this course.

I have one left -- my thesis dissertation -- which I plan to do in a little less than a year. And then that will be that.

Until some other course program book makes its way into my hands.

I had a great meeting with a professor who has accepted to be my new thesis director; this is significant because I will get to go back to my original thesis idea, one that crossed my mind before I even finished my last graduate degree.

Kurt Vonnegut passed away last night; the NY Times has a wonderful informative obituary to the writer who was probably my favorite of all. I came to Vonnegut rather late in life; that is if you compare it with that of high school students who get their first taste of Vonnegut in high school English classes.

I must have been almost 30 the first time I picked up one of his novels -- Slaughterhouse Five -- I believe. I was immediately drawn to his sense of humour -- edgy, but not too cynical -- and his style of prose. I can point to a number of my own blog writings which consciously -- or not -- sought to imitate his style.

My favorite novel is The Sirens of Titan; I love the way it builds up as well as the denouement. I have 7 or 8 of them on my bookshelf, which means another to go, leaving aside the compilations of short stories.

If there is silk lining in it all, it is that Vonnegut's main protagonist, a certain Kilgore Trout appears to be doing well. Though we have not heard from him in a number of years, we have no reason to believe he is the worse for wear.

So it goes.

If I had a twitter account, i would keep writing things like "shit. Fuck. Shit."

It is only 6 minutes and change into the Habs-Leafs game and I have to admin that I ams tressed out to hell. heart is pounding. Thanks God Cristobal looks good.

In our continuing quest to understand internet business models, we find SecondLife.

Aside from user subscription fees (in the form of real estate used for houses), the business model for Second Life assumes that some people will both purchase and pay the equivalent of property tax on chunks of land used for the purposes of commerce.

During my last meanderings I came across the following store:

Still trying to figure out what the market is for virtual velvet prints like these... and how they expect to pay the rent...

'nuff said.

There is a small poster at the community mailbox featuring a picture of a missing cat.

The owners seem somewhat resigned to the worst. In effect, they are offering $100 if you find their cat alive ... or dead!

They even speculate that yon tabby might be at the bottom of your pool. And you might just not know it. (!)

From a business perspective, this might not be all bad. There is definitely room for a lot of upside. The question is just how much.

The theoretical limit is a profit of $100. That assumes that you either come across:

1. the cat in question
2. a reasonable likeness of the cat in question, either alive or dead. In theory, it would preferably be dead so that the cat couldn't rat you out. That position depends on the theory that living cats are personable entities that are fully able (and willing!) to communicate with their owners. The reality is that most cats couldn't be bothered and the chances of the aforementioned cat grassing* on you are infinitely remote.

But it's winter, and thee are just not that many cats going around, alive or dead. The living ones are huddled in doors, while the dead ones are either buried under a snow drift, or shiver the thought, at the bottom of your pool.

So what are your options.

Well you could steal a cat. But then that would mean you have to find one. Back to square one.

You could buy a cat though. Now the price of that cat could effectively be any price between $1 and $99, though preferably closer to the first than the last. Your profit would be the difference between $100 and the cost of the cat.

Now this strategy assumes that the cat you found bears a reasonably close resemblance to the tabby on the poster. If that is not the case, than you might have to spring for some paint, which would cut into your margins.

Unfortunately, time does not permit me to explore the possible upside of borrowing the funds to purchase a cat or some paint should a suitably similar cat not be readily available. Needless to say, the returns of such a leveraged approach would be eye-popping to say the least.

'nuff said.

* = Scottish term for ratting out your mates