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 Life is good, blah blah blah, but ADOBE SUCKS. I tell you, their web authoring program is about as WYSIWYG as a Vegas escort service handbill. (Not that I’d know.) (I’m assuming.) I have spent about six hours today trying to get rollover buttons – you know, something that’s been around since 1998, so it’s not exactly bleeding-edge technology that requires a 6 ghz processor and thirty gigs of memory. Simple fargin’ rollovers. GoLive 4 could handle them. GoLive 6 has a new interface, and they just don’t work. In any browser. On any planet. At all. I did everything right. I buried my nose in the code; I even cut and pasted from GoLive4, changed all the necessary names and parameters. Nope! It rolled over like Soviet Russia in 1943.
So I fire up my trial copy of GoLive 8, and it has a new interface for making rollovers. But! They work. Which is nice. So I quickly bang out a series of pages that need rollovers; whew. But! The main index page is a rather complex thing, at least for me; the menu is condensed so the page doesn’t scroll down for nine miles like the last main menu. This means the rollovers have to summon up pages inside a frame. GoLive 6 has a straightforward method for doing this. GoLive 8 has the “target” field but no options. Nothing. So it’s back to 6 – which, like 8, seems to make some interesting assumptions: I see your page is 800 pixels wide and 1400 pixels deep. Let me open it in 600 X 800 then. Every time. So you have to scroll around to do ANYTHING.
Miserable hobby.
But a fine day. Strong heat. Everything’s sticky. No one wants anything to touch anything. I finished some work this morning, picked up Gnat from class, then set out some diversions so I could entertain the Hellfire Club – as mentioned, Dave Matheny, exceptional illustrator, and Michael J. Nelson of MST3K fame. He brought a copy of his new book, and let me say – if you loved the Gallery of Regrettable Food, you’ll love Mike’s fractured take on the world of Illustrated Cuteness. It’s handsomely produced, too. We spent two hours hashing over the world and its follies – I had an ear tuned to the radio so I could inform them of the Imminent Resignation of Bushitler over Rovegate – and pretty much buried “The Twilight Zone” in the grave of overrated TV. Really. Oh, I know, it’s a classic, and if I’m in a motel room and it comes on I’ll always watch it, but the show’s overall view of humanity is so saturated with Serling’s curdled beliefs that it’s easy to parody, easy to set up rules. If an astronaut crash-lands on a strange planet, he’s either going to be the Adam of a new race or he’s really in California. (If it’s a familiar planet, something has gone slightly wrong, but we don’t know quite what.) If the hero is an old man, he’s bitter and angry about being an old man. (Serling seemed to have a dread of old age, and perhaps it’s just as well he was spared it.) The past was better, except that it really wasn’t, except that it kinda was. And so forth.
A grand time. After they left I filed a column, then went up to the studio to wrangle with GoLive for a while. Took Gnat to dance class, went home to wrangle with GoLive. Made supper, then did battle anew with GoLive. And so forth. You get the idea. Makes me . . . screedy.
I have no idea what I’m going to say, but I’m going to say something, and I expect to have it up around 10 AM CST tomorrow. New Fence, to keep you busy. I know, this is thin broth, but something has to suffer, and today it’s the Bleat.
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Perm link: here.
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