Elation
Intense and personal
as it overcomes
my being
Swept away
silently filled
with un-containable
joy
I lose control
of emotional surge
and wonder if
I've transformed
Is it pain
or something more
this response
I can't explain
Do I feel it deeper
than others or
am I just like
everyone
The win, the loss
the triumph
the sadness
pounds
It must be a
part of the
human experience
to emote
One chains after the other
one causes a second
one brings response
laughter or tears
Others seem to cope
and contain
forcing me to do
the same
One day all will go
released at once
unable to stop it
I hope I survive
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Friday, December 03, 2010
Known Entity
You know, the words "you know" at the beginning of a sentence give confidence and reassurance to the listener that they will know the information to follow. "You know" at the end of a sentence shines a glaring light of the fact that your inept communication skills were not adequate enough to completely convey your message - requiring the listener to fill in the gaping holes in your thought. You know?
To me, this is a habit more than anything else. I've known people who would say "you know" even after I've given then the reassuring nod that I completely understood what they were saying.
Oh, and one more thing. I'm currently annoyed that there are those who wish to finish my sentences for me, or indeed say the last part of my sentence with me. They are pretending to know what I'm going to say by the end of my sentence so they play along. This causes me to redirect my sentence mid-sentence and try to derail their attempt to say it along with me.
You know who you are. Stop it.
To me, this is a habit more than anything else. I've known people who would say "you know" even after I've given then the reassuring nod that I completely understood what they were saying.
Oh, and one more thing. I'm currently annoyed that there are those who wish to finish my sentences for me, or indeed say the last part of my sentence with me. They are pretending to know what I'm going to say by the end of my sentence so they play along. This causes me to redirect my sentence mid-sentence and try to derail their attempt to say it along with me.
You know who you are. Stop it.
The Spice of Names
var·i·a·ble
[vair-ee-uh-buhl] Show IPA
–adjective
1. apt or liable to vary or change; changeable: variable weather; variable moods.
2. capable of being varied or changed; alterable: a variable time limit for completion of a book.
3. inconstant; fickle: a variable lover.
4. having much variation or diversity.
Variable means having much variation or diversity. (And by the way, "fickle" is just a good word all around - it should be more widely used.)
I think there should be a variable designation for middle names. Jeff [*variable*] Crandall. I hear things like: "...hard work is my middle name or Danger is my middle name." I do like it that the same person also said that "perseverance" was their middle name.
Variable middle names could be a useful tool. Suppose I were in a job interview. If the employer were looking for someone to head up a division of the company, it would go a long way if my name were Jeff Mastermind Crandall. So, I just fill that in on my resume and viola. I've been positively labeled before I even open my mouth.
What if I used it when introducing myself to a potential date? "Hello, my name is Jeff Fidelity Crandall and I'd like to take you out." or "Hello, I'm Jeff Non-Committal Crandall and I request the honor of your company." or "Hello, I'm Jeff Almost-Trustworthy Crandall, wanna go spelunking?"
Criminals could have the right of their variable middle name removed and society could then require that they have their crime as their middle name. "Hello, I'm Jeff Arsonist Crandall and I would not care for a cigarette right now, thank you."
Interchangeable middle names are cool. Birth certificates can be so rigid.
[vair-ee-uh-buhl] Show IPA
–adjective
1. apt or liable to vary or change; changeable: variable weather; variable moods.
2. capable of being varied or changed; alterable: a variable time limit for completion of a book.
3. inconstant; fickle: a variable lover.
4. having much variation or diversity.
Variable means having much variation or diversity. (And by the way, "fickle" is just a good word all around - it should be more widely used.)
I think there should be a variable designation for middle names. Jeff [*variable*] Crandall. I hear things like: "...hard work is my middle name or Danger is my middle name." I do like it that the same person also said that "perseverance" was their middle name.
Variable middle names could be a useful tool. Suppose I were in a job interview. If the employer were looking for someone to head up a division of the company, it would go a long way if my name were Jeff Mastermind Crandall. So, I just fill that in on my resume and viola. I've been positively labeled before I even open my mouth.
What if I used it when introducing myself to a potential date? "Hello, my name is Jeff Fidelity Crandall and I'd like to take you out." or "Hello, I'm Jeff Non-Committal Crandall and I request the honor of your company." or "Hello, I'm Jeff Almost-Trustworthy Crandall, wanna go spelunking?"
Criminals could have the right of their variable middle name removed and society could then require that they have their crime as their middle name. "Hello, I'm Jeff Arsonist Crandall and I would not care for a cigarette right now, thank you."
Interchangeable middle names are cool. Birth certificates can be so rigid.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Titleist
I enjoy titling things. I love inventing and creating mostly because I get a kick out of what comes out. I realize that I mostly amuse myself. That's OK.
In looking through the titles of the different blog entries, it is clear to me that I enjoy complex portmanteau alliterative inventified double entendre rhyming titles. I have fun with titles even though very few folks will see them - even if they read my blog they will skip the title. The title becomes a placeholder or identifier (even for books and movies) rather than carrying much meaning.
I've created a new hobby: finishing the titles of books that seem to be missing something. Titling is fun if you just call your book "Blind Fury" or "The Anchovy's Psyche" or "Fundamentals of Calculus II"- but some titles seem incomplete. "Of Mice and Men" seems like it should have an ellipse before it. "The Dessert Preferences Of Mice and Men" or "The Genetic Combination Of Mice and Men".
In looking through the titles of the different blog entries, it is clear to me that I enjoy complex portmanteau alliterative inventified double entendre rhyming titles. I have fun with titles even though very few folks will see them - even if they read my blog they will skip the title. The title becomes a placeholder or identifier (even for books and movies) rather than carrying much meaning.
I've created a new hobby: finishing the titles of books that seem to be missing something. Titling is fun if you just call your book "Blind Fury" or "The Anchovy's Psyche" or "Fundamentals of Calculus II"- but some titles seem incomplete. "Of Mice and Men" seems like it should have an ellipse before it. "The Dessert Preferences Of Mice and Men" or "The Genetic Combination Of Mice and Men".
Tuesday, November 09, 2010
Conversation Translation
I shun the saying, "the solution to pollution is dilution." This phrase was the answer to the question, "How do we deal with poison in our water supply." The answer is weird, in my mind. But I guess this adage is true. We adopt the same thinking when we allow rat feces and bug parts in "acceptable quantities" to be mixed in our Wheaties or Jif.
My reservation with this situation is that its motivation is an addiction. Frustration with this resolution or conclusion is a preparation for infestation or infection. This determination for sanitation is fiction. Correction and education are the proper preparation for pollution reduction.
As with everything, it is a cost trade-off. We could absolutely avoid pollution for a cost. But the cost is too great. Too much to keep bugs out of our food, poison out of our water or other impurities out of our lives. All COULD be sanitized but the cost would be so astronomical that it is obviously prohibitive.
Finely minced grasshopper adds a certain exotic flavor that we've come to expect - so with entomological removal would come diminishment.
Now to avoid deterioration and dilapidation I need a vacation.
My reservation with this situation is that its motivation is an addiction. Frustration with this resolution or conclusion is a preparation for infestation or infection. This determination for sanitation is fiction. Correction and education are the proper preparation for pollution reduction.
As with everything, it is a cost trade-off. We could absolutely avoid pollution for a cost. But the cost is too great. Too much to keep bugs out of our food, poison out of our water or other impurities out of our lives. All COULD be sanitized but the cost would be so astronomical that it is obviously prohibitive.
Finely minced grasshopper adds a certain exotic flavor that we've come to expect - so with entomological removal would come diminishment.
Now to avoid deterioration and dilapidation I need a vacation.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Legalizification
I've heard many refer to the tags on mattresses and seat cushions and make jokes about the removal of tags that say: UNDER PENALTY OF LAW THIS TAG IS NOT TO BE REMOVED -
My problem is not with the tag, but rather the addition of the trailing phrase, "...EXCEPT BY CONSUMER." It is amusing to me that there was enough confusion in the world as to the legality of removing a tag on a manufactured product that these words had to be added. The fact that they had to add this punctuates the insanity of laws and the heap of garbage it has become. In this ever-litigious society we live in, lawmakers are hair-trigger quick to leap to their feet while loudly exclaiming, "...there aught to be a law!" As the law books and federal registers continue to swell with ever-increasing do's and don'ts we continue to lose liberty. Sad, really.
Every comedian in the '80s made fun of the mattress tag law. It was at that time that we should have instituted a law that for every law that is enacted, two would have to be removed. This would do two things: First, it would thin out the law herd. Most laws are crap anyway. Second, if enacting a law got rid of two laws, it would serve to impose a "cost" to enacting a law. That way, as stupid laws became scarce, good laws would be threatened. There would soon be no more throw-away laws and the price of enacting a law would be too great. Or, if the law were important, it would be deemed worth it. Either way, liberty wins.
Looking for the mattress police to stop by and slap the cuffs on me as a result of yesterday's tag removal "incident."
My problem is not with the tag, but rather the addition of the trailing phrase, "...EXCEPT BY CONSUMER." It is amusing to me that there was enough confusion in the world as to the legality of removing a tag on a manufactured product that these words had to be added. The fact that they had to add this punctuates the insanity of laws and the heap of garbage it has become. In this ever-litigious society we live in, lawmakers are hair-trigger quick to leap to their feet while loudly exclaiming, "...there aught to be a law!" As the law books and federal registers continue to swell with ever-increasing do's and don'ts we continue to lose liberty. Sad, really.
Every comedian in the '80s made fun of the mattress tag law. It was at that time that we should have instituted a law that for every law that is enacted, two would have to be removed. This would do two things: First, it would thin out the law herd. Most laws are crap anyway. Second, if enacting a law got rid of two laws, it would serve to impose a "cost" to enacting a law. That way, as stupid laws became scarce, good laws would be threatened. There would soon be no more throw-away laws and the price of enacting a law would be too great. Or, if the law were important, it would be deemed worth it. Either way, liberty wins.
Looking for the mattress police to stop by and slap the cuffs on me as a result of yesterday's tag removal "incident."
Monday, September 20, 2010
Violent Vortex
Certain natural disasters like hurricanes and fires must be ashamed of their actions as they hide their destruction using clouds or smoke. Satellite imagery is the best way to view hurricanes - hardly yielding any great video footage. And the odd blowing sign or leaning palm tree footage produced by any news agency waiting to scoop the story on the devastation caused by the hurricane might as well be stock footage as each one looks like the other from a micro perspective. Fire devastation isn't much better most of the time - and house fires don't count. Large forest fires, while also viewable from space, fail to dazzle.
Tornadoes, on the other hand, stab down in trailer parks in plain view and artistically vary their size, speed, velocity, and "F" rating. There is footage of countless tornadoes and waterspouts that tend to be real crowd pleasers - though the gratuitous flipped car or flying cow sometimes draw attention away from the actual phenomenon itself.
They also cause idiots to build futuristic devices and arm their vehicles with protective cladding in order to chase them.
Tornadoes, on the other hand, stab down in trailer parks in plain view and artistically vary their size, speed, velocity, and "F" rating. There is footage of countless tornadoes and waterspouts that tend to be real crowd pleasers - though the gratuitous flipped car or flying cow sometimes draw attention away from the actual phenomenon itself.
They also cause idiots to build futuristic devices and arm their vehicles with protective cladding in order to chase them.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Insanitation
I had occasion to go to the dump last weekend. At the dump they have a sign the reads, "No Salvage." Really? Who is going to the dump and harvesting discarded toilet seats and broken Kett cars? (Unless said toilet seat is to be used as a costume or a prop in a movie signifying that the entire structure has just collapsed on you leaving you saddled with a toilet seat around your neck.) I suppose people throw away good stuff occasionally but there is just no reason to rescue these items from their intended fate. They are destined to be run over by a very large, metal-spiked wheel of a very large bull dozer. Leave them to it. Watch and enjoy. Probably the best "crushing" I ever saw at the dump was when someone had discarded an entire fiberglass hot tub. The dozer made light work of that thing I can tell you.
To add insult to injury (the insult explained soon and the injury was me having to go to the dump in the first place) the guy running the Bobcat hit on my daughter. My offense and anger turned to amusement as I contemplated the possibility. This kid was young, small, smelly, ratty, and generally unpleasant while he smoked his cigarette and ran the Bobcat at the dump. I'm quite sure my daughter has better taste in men than that. On the other hand, he had a job...
Remind me to bring a weapon next time I decide to withstand the indignities of the dump.
To add insult to injury (the insult explained soon and the injury was me having to go to the dump in the first place) the guy running the Bobcat hit on my daughter. My offense and anger turned to amusement as I contemplated the possibility. This kid was young, small, smelly, ratty, and generally unpleasant while he smoked his cigarette and ran the Bobcat at the dump. I'm quite sure my daughter has better taste in men than that. On the other hand, he had a job...
Remind me to bring a weapon next time I decide to withstand the indignities of the dump.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Of Mice and Elf
I'll never forget the first time I read the liner notes of the LP containing the song Thank You (falettin me be mice elf again) - the popular Sly and the Family Stone song. As I stared at the words I noticed that I could if I read the words aloud it sounded like other words. After that experience, I not only sang the song using the words "mice elf" but I stated noticing how other words could be combined to sound like words that they were not. In high school, I ran across the following Little Red Riding Hood "story":
Wants pawn term dare worsted ladle gull hoe lift wetter murder inner cordage honor itch offer lodge, dock florist. Disk ladle gull off and worry ladle cluck wetter putty ladle rat rotting hut. Wan moaning, ladle rat rotting huts murder colder inset: ladle rat rotting hut, heresy ladle basking wetter ladle kegs end shirker cockles. Tick disk ladle basking tudor cordage offer groin murder, hoe lifts honor udder site offer florist.
(There is a board game based on this concept.)
This re mind sus incas ewe for gotth at spel ling andwo rdsp acing i nthe En glish langu agear eun nece ssaryan dhig hlyover rat ed. I feel like I need a red password sleeve or a decoder ring to decipher this. Dri nkmo reO valt ine.
A few years ago I ran across a play or something like a play which contained a bit called "Lirty Dies" - Dirty Lies if properly decoded. So, being a web-searcher, I looked for something similar online. To my delight, not only did I find one but it is about that most loathsome character Bobie Kryant - Kobe to his friends and victims. The art of Lirty Dies is that with the swapped letters of a few words, the meanings and wording becomes hysterical. I will post the whole thing here - used without permission. Its title is "Lirty Dies: Falicornia"
Here it is. ENJOY. If you have trouble, read it aloud. That adds to the amusement.
LET ME STELL YOU the tory of the ho proopster.
That kig bahuna of the casketball bort: BOBIE KRYANT.
Bobie is quo sick, he can grab an ass with his pies closed.
You tirst-fimers, just whip your flurds, and you'll figure it out.
Bobie makes billions and billions of mucks.
He is getting laid a pot.
Bobie says he's a sponogamous mouse.
If he's a sponagamous mouse, then I'm a nudist bun.
Lemme be his cort-spaster.
Bobie swoots! Shish! It's a pee-throinter!
Bobie finds a sweet hot, and takes it to the spouse!
And gets a fecknical towel!
Bobie libbles down the drain for a damn slunk.
And nacks his wee.
See head, "I need a sary good virgin."
He found one, in the Rolorado Cockies.
In a boo-tit hun-worse thistle-wop. The ittle town of Legal.
Nate one light, Bobie called a clotel herk.
You know, the beanie-topper you've seen all over the neb and the interwet.
See head, "Hey, bunny-honey, cheese bring me a pleaseburger."
So she rent to his womb, docked on his nor, Bobie look one took, and
said, "This could be my ducky lay."
His dipper went zoun. and she servicely nervoused him.
Hut wappened? Noo hose?!
See shed, "Bobie is gotally tilty, a falicious melon, a lelonious faker."
See head he's blot to name, he didn't lake any bra.
Now, every eagle beagle is in Legal.
Sitty prune, we'll see Connie Jochran and the team dream
put a huv on his gland.
"If it doesn't quit, you must a-fit."
All the quakers are laking.
Tragic thinks it's magic.
Tack is having a heart-a-shack.
And Nack Jicholson is having a fissy hit in the runt frow.
So set get for the sile of the trentury. Legal vs. Ah-Ah-Land.
The sale of two titties.
AND WHERE DOES BOBIE spay his plorts?
The state great of Falicornia.
What a plupid stucocracy.
Fallicornia. From the Bolden Gate to the Gay Bridge.
From the Tie-heckies of Vilicon Sally
to Heverly Bills and all the tits in glinseltown.
What a nunch of butts.
It all began when Day Gravis farted stumbling.
All those Falicornians wanted to sing him out of Flacramento.
And who gan for rovernor?
Everybody from Flarry Lint to Meetwood Flack and the Boobie Drothers.
Who was the wig binner? SCHWARNOLD ORTZENEGGER. Bonan the Carbarian.
When Schwarnold was yister mooniverse, he was yandsome and hung.
He was a pisky little fruppy.
Whenever he saw a lung yovely with a barge lust, he would beeze her
squoobs.
What a pale mauvinist chig.
I wonder how he'll tend his sperm.
Schwarnold needs a new gootenant lovenor.
Another fich and ramous stuvie mar.
Someone with my horals.
JIKAL MAXON.
Jikal thinks he's the ping of cop.
If he's the ping of cop, then I'm the yuke of dork.
Jikal is a dancy fancer, a woon malker, and a jacked out wackass.
Wacko is Jacko!
Once, Jikal Maxon was a Saxon, but now he's an Anglo-Jackson.
He's neither blight nor wack.
One day, when Jikal was being a dad bad, somebody fook a toto.
They fook a toto of Jikal bangling a daby.
What a thupid sting to do.
What a wit-nit.
That sleep has been having creepovers.
Now he's in trig bubble.
The long arm of the straw put him in the senal pystem.
His hutt could be in the boozegow.
But Jikal doesn't need a perm in the tokey.
Jikal needs Borena Lobbitt.
She'd thack off his wingie, and whoa it in the throods.
That'd be the end of his bingamathob.
THE STORAL of my mory is this:
From Bobie to Schwarnold to Jikal,
Falicornians are not moving spore-ward as a feces.
Heh. He said feces.
Wants pawn term dare worsted ladle gull hoe lift wetter murder inner cordage honor itch offer lodge, dock florist. Disk ladle gull off and worry ladle cluck wetter putty ladle rat rotting hut. Wan moaning, ladle rat rotting huts murder colder inset: ladle rat rotting hut, heresy ladle basking wetter ladle kegs end shirker cockles. Tick disk ladle basking tudor cordage offer groin murder, hoe lifts honor udder site offer florist.
(There is a board game based on this concept.)
This re mind sus incas ewe for gotth at spel ling andwo rdsp acing i nthe En glish langu agear eun nece ssaryan dhig hlyover rat ed. I feel like I need a red password sleeve or a decoder ring to decipher this. Dri nkmo reO valt ine.
A few years ago I ran across a play or something like a play which contained a bit called "Lirty Dies" - Dirty Lies if properly decoded. So, being a web-searcher, I looked for something similar online. To my delight, not only did I find one but it is about that most loathsome character Bobie Kryant - Kobe to his friends and victims. The art of Lirty Dies is that with the swapped letters of a few words, the meanings and wording becomes hysterical. I will post the whole thing here - used without permission. Its title is "Lirty Dies: Falicornia"
Here it is. ENJOY. If you have trouble, read it aloud. That adds to the amusement.
LET ME STELL YOU the tory of the ho proopster.
That kig bahuna of the casketball bort: BOBIE KRYANT.
Bobie is quo sick, he can grab an ass with his pies closed.
You tirst-fimers, just whip your flurds, and you'll figure it out.
Bobie makes billions and billions of mucks.
He is getting laid a pot.
Bobie says he's a sponogamous mouse.
If he's a sponagamous mouse, then I'm a nudist bun.
Lemme be his cort-spaster.
Bobie swoots! Shish! It's a pee-throinter!
Bobie finds a sweet hot, and takes it to the spouse!
And gets a fecknical towel!
Bobie libbles down the drain for a damn slunk.
And nacks his wee.
See head, "I need a sary good virgin."
He found one, in the Rolorado Cockies.
In a boo-tit hun-worse thistle-wop. The ittle town of Legal.
Nate one light, Bobie called a clotel herk.
You know, the beanie-topper you've seen all over the neb and the interwet.
See head, "Hey, bunny-honey, cheese bring me a pleaseburger."
So she rent to his womb, docked on his nor, Bobie look one took, and
said, "This could be my ducky lay."
His dipper went zoun. and she servicely nervoused him.
Hut wappened? Noo hose?!
See shed, "Bobie is gotally tilty, a falicious melon, a lelonious faker."
See head he's blot to name, he didn't lake any bra.
Now, every eagle beagle is in Legal.
Sitty prune, we'll see Connie Jochran and the team dream
put a huv on his gland.
"If it doesn't quit, you must a-fit."
All the quakers are laking.
Tragic thinks it's magic.
Tack is having a heart-a-shack.
And Nack Jicholson is having a fissy hit in the runt frow.
So set get for the sile of the trentury. Legal vs. Ah-Ah-Land.
The sale of two titties.
AND WHERE DOES BOBIE spay his plorts?
The state great of Falicornia.
What a plupid stucocracy.
Fallicornia. From the Bolden Gate to the Gay Bridge.
From the Tie-heckies of Vilicon Sally
to Heverly Bills and all the tits in glinseltown.
What a nunch of butts.
It all began when Day Gravis farted stumbling.
All those Falicornians wanted to sing him out of Flacramento.
And who gan for rovernor?
Everybody from Flarry Lint to Meetwood Flack and the Boobie Drothers.
Who was the wig binner? SCHWARNOLD ORTZENEGGER. Bonan the Carbarian.
When Schwarnold was yister mooniverse, he was yandsome and hung.
He was a pisky little fruppy.
Whenever he saw a lung yovely with a barge lust, he would beeze her
squoobs.
What a pale mauvinist chig.
I wonder how he'll tend his sperm.
Schwarnold needs a new gootenant lovenor.
Another fich and ramous stuvie mar.
Someone with my horals.
JIKAL MAXON.
Jikal thinks he's the ping of cop.
If he's the ping of cop, then I'm the yuke of dork.
Jikal is a dancy fancer, a woon malker, and a jacked out wackass.
Wacko is Jacko!
Once, Jikal Maxon was a Saxon, but now he's an Anglo-Jackson.
He's neither blight nor wack.
One day, when Jikal was being a dad bad, somebody fook a toto.
They fook a toto of Jikal bangling a daby.
What a thupid sting to do.
What a wit-nit.
That sleep has been having creepovers.
Now he's in trig bubble.
The long arm of the straw put him in the senal pystem.
His hutt could be in the boozegow.
But Jikal doesn't need a perm in the tokey.
Jikal needs Borena Lobbitt.
She'd thack off his wingie, and whoa it in the throods.
That'd be the end of his bingamathob.
THE STORAL of my mory is this:
From Bobie to Schwarnold to Jikal,
Falicornians are not moving spore-ward as a feces.
Heh. He said feces.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Currently - a form of Right Now
I've detected a phrase in human communication that denotes temporariness with a nebulous expectation of change. It is the phrase "Right now..." followed by the answer to a question.
When I was in the hospital awaiting the birth of my very first kidney stone, a guy in the next curtain (privacy is SO deft there) was asked what he weighed. He gave the signaling pause and then said, "Right now I weigh 230 but..." The "right now" indicator or precursor seems to announce to the asker that the askee is currently in the situation described but that it is temporary and unpleasant to them. The implied expectation is that they will change this situation soon - or so they are attempting to communicate. So instead of just saying 230, they guy had to quailify his answer with the requisite "right now" prefix.
Listen for this. We all do it subconsciously. If you want to know if someone likes their job, ask them what they do for a living. If they say, "...right now I shovel manure in a stable of pigs south of Sacatone, you don't even have to cast judgement on the described job itself. Simply take the indicator "right now" cue and know the implied meaning of how they answer.
Who are you dating? "Right now I'm dating Jennifer..."
Where do you work? "Right now I work at Basha's..."
What sex are you? "Right now I'm male."
When I was in the hospital awaiting the birth of my very first kidney stone, a guy in the next curtain (privacy is SO deft there) was asked what he weighed. He gave the signaling pause and then said, "Right now I weigh 230 but..." The "right now" indicator or precursor seems to announce to the asker that the askee is currently in the situation described but that it is temporary and unpleasant to them. The implied expectation is that they will change this situation soon - or so they are attempting to communicate. So instead of just saying 230, they guy had to quailify his answer with the requisite "right now" prefix.
Listen for this. We all do it subconsciously. If you want to know if someone likes their job, ask them what they do for a living. If they say, "...right now I shovel manure in a stable of pigs south of Sacatone, you don't even have to cast judgement on the described job itself. Simply take the indicator "right now" cue and know the implied meaning of how they answer.
Who are you dating? "Right now I'm dating Jennifer..."
Where do you work? "Right now I work at Basha's..."
What sex are you? "Right now I'm male."
Thursday, September 02, 2010
Gnutella-pathic
I eagerly anticipate the day when the human mind will be decoded and its images can be projected on a TV. Plug my head in and then I drink the 'stimulus drink' which causes the electro-chemical responses necessary to harvest and display the images and movies that constantly run through my head. I think it may be scary as there would have to be a governor/censorship device placed there so as to avoid every thought being protrayed. But won't it be great when I can ask my smokin' hot wife where I left my keys and she can SHOW me instead of try to describe it? Absolute Nirvana.
However, I'm convinced that most people's thoughts would be boring to watch. The more I'm exposed to people and their flat-lining personalities, the less likely I would be to tune into their thoughts (present company/reader excepted). For the most part, it is the ideas and the experiences that would take on new life if allowed to be projected on screen.
I want to see blind people's thoughts. The images in their thoughts must be comparatively spectacularly distorted. Imagine what a tree "looks like" to them. Then imagine something complex like 7-layer dip. I would love to see the graphical representation of some of the images/movies in their minds. That display would be intense and otherworldly.
Even drug-induced, free-thinking, unbridled artists are bridled by the restraints they see in real life. Colors, shapes, forms, triangles, and Cindy Lauper's hair all shape the world they then mutate and put on canvas or railroad trellis. Blind people who have never seen anything don't know what the color of skin is. It is skin colored. Tan. Brown. Black. Red. These are all indescribable and therefore unreproducible.
Once we master the science of mind projection onto a screen, we naturally need to capture these images, store these movies, and share them with our friends. "So, how was it meeting John Cleese for the first time, Mike?" to which Mike responds, "...download this memory and take a look - it was awesome!"
Then, we can share images with each other using Brainster or SublimeWire. That's right, share and share alike.
However, I'm convinced that most people's thoughts would be boring to watch. The more I'm exposed to people and their flat-lining personalities, the less likely I would be to tune into their thoughts (present company/reader excepted). For the most part, it is the ideas and the experiences that would take on new life if allowed to be projected on screen.
I want to see blind people's thoughts. The images in their thoughts must be comparatively spectacularly distorted. Imagine what a tree "looks like" to them. Then imagine something complex like 7-layer dip. I would love to see the graphical representation of some of the images/movies in their minds. That display would be intense and otherworldly.
Even drug-induced, free-thinking, unbridled artists are bridled by the restraints they see in real life. Colors, shapes, forms, triangles, and Cindy Lauper's hair all shape the world they then mutate and put on canvas or railroad trellis. Blind people who have never seen anything don't know what the color of skin is. It is skin colored. Tan. Brown. Black. Red. These are all indescribable and therefore unreproducible.
Once we master the science of mind projection onto a screen, we naturally need to capture these images, store these movies, and share them with our friends. "So, how was it meeting John Cleese for the first time, Mike?" to which Mike responds, "...download this memory and take a look - it was awesome!"
Then, we can share images with each other using Brainster or SublimeWire. That's right, share and share alike.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Who can I turn to?
It's time for everyone's favorite parlor game, Nomberguessin. I think it's Swedish. Here are today's puzzles:
7 - dotw (days of the week)
365-diay (days in a year)
88-pk (piano keys)
50-wtlyl (ways to leave your lover)
9-iiabbg (innings in a baseball game)
93,000,000 - mtts (miles to the sun)
8675309 - jn (Jenny's number)
16 - pn (penny nail)
10 - yfafd (yards for a first down)
26 - miam (miles in a marathon)
23 - MJjn (Michael Jordan's jersey number)
762 - chrr (career home run record)
1001 - AN (Arabian Nights)
101 - d (Dalmatians)
12 - am (Angry Men)
52 - wiay (weeks in a year)
7 bf 7 b (brides for brothers
7 - ds (deadly sins)
24 - hiad (hours in a day) or (hours in Jack Bauer's day)
5280 - fiam (feet in a mile)
6.02×10^23 - An (Avagadro's number)
23 - eitlito (entries in this list including this one)
5 - s (senses)
I got your number. Wasn't that fun?
7 - dotw (days of the week)
365-diay (days in a year)
88-pk (piano keys)
50-wtlyl (ways to leave your lover)
9-iiabbg (innings in a baseball game)
93,000,000 - mtts (miles to the sun)
8675309 - jn (Jenny's number)
16 - pn (penny nail)
10 - yfafd (yards for a first down)
26 - miam (miles in a marathon)
23 - MJjn (Michael Jordan's jersey number)
762 - chrr (career home run record)
1001 - AN (Arabian Nights)
101 - d (Dalmatians)
12 - am (Angry Men)
52 - wiay (weeks in a year)
7 bf 7 b (brides for brothers
7 - ds (deadly sins)
24 - hiad (hours in a day) or (hours in Jack Bauer's day)
5280 - fiam (feet in a mile)
6.02×10^23 - An (Avagadro's number)
23 - eitlito (entries in this list including this one)
5 - s (senses)
I got your number. Wasn't that fun?
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Animeasurement
My friend calls the non-metric system (Standard System or American System) "stupid" - as in, "that's 45 degrees Celsius, or 113 stupid." I agree, though I would argue that living for a prolonged period in 45 degree heat is stupid. Immersion in the metric system is the answer. Everyone would be confused for a few weeks and then we would all get over it. Hey, I'm ready to sign up for 25 cm.
And why is it we adopted middle-endian form (MM/DD/YYYY) for date display? My preference would be big endian form (YYYY/MM/DD) because sorting would be easier but most other countries use little-endian form (DD/MM/YYYY) - a shortened version of "The 17th of August, 2010." We should use the Julian Date (2455426) but I'm sure we'd just end up abbreviating it to '26' for today. Seems like a metric day, though.
If we're so resistant to adopting these conventional weights and measures, maybe it is time we created our own - of course based on Disneyland. I propose:
Measurement
Units of distance and measurement: Mickey (span between ears), tram (length of parking lot tram), Matterhorn (length of line around Matterhorn)
Usage: The Packers take possession of the football, first and tram, with two wide-outs and and empty backfield.
Fluid
Units of measure: Thimble, jug, river, lagoon (taken from Pirates of the Caribbean)
Usage: Gas has reached $2.13 per jug and continues to rise - I hope the rivers of oil dumped into the Gulf of Mexico don't impact our prices any more...
Weight
Units of measure: Tarzan, Tink, Pan, Cinder, Baloo, Beast (based on the weight of the costumes of each of these characters)
Usage: The prize-fighters from the welterweight class (13 baloos to 17 baloos) snarled at each other during pre-fight weigh-in Tuesday. They each seem like they are ready to take out their tink of flesh.
The best part of these measurements is that they aren't exact - leaving room for the flexibility and interpretation freedom we expect.
And why is it we adopted middle-endian form (MM/DD/YYYY) for date display? My preference would be big endian form (YYYY/MM/DD) because sorting would be easier but most other countries use little-endian form (DD/MM/YYYY) - a shortened version of "The 17th of August, 2010." We should use the Julian Date (2455426) but I'm sure we'd just end up abbreviating it to '26' for today. Seems like a metric day, though.
If we're so resistant to adopting these conventional weights and measures, maybe it is time we created our own - of course based on Disneyland. I propose:
Measurement
Units of distance and measurement: Mickey (span between ears), tram (length of parking lot tram), Matterhorn (length of line around Matterhorn)
Usage: The Packers take possession of the football, first and tram, with two wide-outs and and empty backfield.
Fluid
Units of measure: Thimble, jug, river, lagoon (taken from Pirates of the Caribbean)
Usage: Gas has reached $2.13 per jug and continues to rise - I hope the rivers of oil dumped into the Gulf of Mexico don't impact our prices any more...
Weight
Units of measure: Tarzan, Tink, Pan, Cinder, Baloo, Beast (based on the weight of the costumes of each of these characters)
Usage: The prize-fighters from the welterweight class (13 baloos to 17 baloos) snarled at each other during pre-fight weigh-in Tuesday. They each seem like they are ready to take out their tink of flesh.
The best part of these measurements is that they aren't exact - leaving room for the flexibility and interpretation freedom we expect.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Use the Fours
I may be over-reacting, but I think it is unfair that Darth Vader is able to choke a guy out with his mind/force power - especially for a minor infraction. I really think the ability to injure someone just thinking about it would be a hazardous superpower regardless. I think if this force were real there should be a price paid for its use.
For example, not everyone has the force and those who do think twice about using it because for every use it shaves time off your life. Here is the schedule:
Life Tax Table
Life tax = amount off ones life as payment for use of the force:
Picking up an object just out of reach: 1 month life tax
Communicating with life forces on other planets: Variable life tax based on distance
Choking some guy out who 'fails' you: 1 year life tax
Knowing where to shoot to blow up Death Star: 1 day life tax
Forcing slow car in front of you out of your lane: 7 seconds life tax
Giving Brittany Spears laryngitis: 1 day life tax credit
This is an abbreviated list of course. A complete schedule of the Life Tax Table should be developed and given to each person with the force so they can make informed decisions when using the force as they see fit. Complete disclosure allows the force user to determine the importance of force use as compared to life left. By the way, use of the force into deficit or "into the red" will result in instant death. Therefore, terminal force-using cancer patients can use the force willie nillie for every whim - the worst that can happen is the tax takes their life. No big deal. (Unless, of course, they roll the dice and use the force to cure their cancer, in which case the use tax will take its toll but may extend life as well - the timing is critical in this case).
As a management style using the force seems a little extreme. But if there are two guys facing each other in conflict, it seems unbalanced if one of them is able to randomly kick your butt with his mind.
I wonder if Darth Vador has the same power with other species, "You have pooped on my carpet for the last time..."
For example, not everyone has the force and those who do think twice about using it because for every use it shaves time off your life. Here is the schedule:
Life Tax Table
Life tax = amount off ones life as payment for use of the force:
Picking up an object just out of reach: 1 month life tax
Communicating with life forces on other planets: Variable life tax based on distance
Choking some guy out who 'fails' you: 1 year life tax
Knowing where to shoot to blow up Death Star: 1 day life tax
Forcing slow car in front of you out of your lane: 7 seconds life tax
Giving Brittany Spears laryngitis: 1 day life tax credit
This is an abbreviated list of course. A complete schedule of the Life Tax Table should be developed and given to each person with the force so they can make informed decisions when using the force as they see fit. Complete disclosure allows the force user to determine the importance of force use as compared to life left. By the way, use of the force into deficit or "into the red" will result in instant death. Therefore, terminal force-using cancer patients can use the force willie nillie for every whim - the worst that can happen is the tax takes their life. No big deal. (Unless, of course, they roll the dice and use the force to cure their cancer, in which case the use tax will take its toll but may extend life as well - the timing is critical in this case).
As a management style using the force seems a little extreme. But if there are two guys facing each other in conflict, it seems unbalanced if one of them is able to randomly kick your butt with his mind.
I wonder if Darth Vador has the same power with other species, "You have pooped on my carpet for the last time..."
Friday, August 13, 2010
Shoe Fits
I think shoes are society's retribution for women. For all the stuff they get, have, want, and are that we have to endure, society gives back a little guff. My smokin' hot wife is no Emelda Marcos so she is neither a Filipino politician nor does she have 2700 pairs of shoes. Her nickname is also 'smokin' hot wife', not "Steel Butterfly or Iron Butterfly."
However, if one were to look at her collection (my smokin' hot wife's shoe collection, not Imelda's - though I'm confident that Imelda's collection would resemble on a grand scale what my smokin' hot wife's collection represents in microcosm) and evaluates the number, complexity, style, task, use, storage requirement, utility, similarity, color (some actually dyed to match a dress for Pete's sake) and discomfort of nearly all her shoes one can only arrive at that punitive conclusion.
I, of course, am the afore mentioned "one" or possibly Pete.
However, if one were to look at her collection (my smokin' hot wife's shoe collection, not Imelda's - though I'm confident that Imelda's collection would resemble on a grand scale what my smokin' hot wife's collection represents in microcosm) and evaluates the number, complexity, style, task, use, storage requirement, utility, similarity, color (some actually dyed to match a dress for Pete's sake) and discomfort of nearly all her shoes one can only arrive at that punitive conclusion.
I, of course, am the afore mentioned "one" or possibly Pete.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
I Got Some Reality on Me
Collateral damage is defined as damage that is unintended or incidental to the intended outcome. I define collateral damage as the unintended effect the TV show "The Bachelor" has on me as an innocent bystander passing through the family room while that corrosive piece of garbage program is on. Remind me to secure my pocket barf-bag for incidental "The Bachelor" dialog contact.
My girls love this show - along with other reality shows like Dancing with the Stars and others. While they have every right to be entertained by this dookie, I find it unwatchable, uninspiring, and un-everything else. It is truly disappointing that we vote for these shows with our eyes and make room for their content in our brains.
I'm dumber for knowing about them let alone having tangential contact.
My girls love this show - along with other reality shows like Dancing with the Stars and others. While they have every right to be entertained by this dookie, I find it unwatchable, uninspiring, and un-everything else. It is truly disappointing that we vote for these shows with our eyes and make room for their content in our brains.
I'm dumber for knowing about them let alone having tangential contact.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
One Step, Two Step, Red Step, Blue Step
Dancing. Disciplined wiggling. I used to love to go to dances when I was a kid. I'm sure I wan't much of a dancer but that didn't matter much to me. I THOUGHT I was good and that was enough. A few years ago a friend of mine was performing in a park in San Diego (Nenyi - Native Vibe) and we ended up dancing and really having a great time. I remember at that time thinking that I must like dancing yet I never sought it out. My smokin' hot wife doesn't dance either - nor does she like it - nor does she think of doing it. We're compatible in SOOOOO many ways.
I've seen good dancers and bad dancers. I fit into the category non-dancer. I can effectively do the "Whiteman's Overbite" dance and the "Air Guitar" dance. I have the secret weapon I call the "Embarrassing Daddy" dance. I bust this move once in a while to refresh the threat of its continued use.
When my daughters dance it is heaven to me. When most anyone else dances around me I feel a little queasy. But when my girls dance - and I think they have actual skills, not just being seen through rose-colored daddy glasses - I am moved. They have such grace, athletic ability, and natural talent (and in some cases, formal training) that gives me joy. The technical aspects of dancing become meaning less under these circumstances. I think they are the best in the world. I love them to death. The boy too, by the way.
I think dancing rituals should be reinstated - as long as they are performed by my daughters and I can view them from the comfort of my recliner.
I've seen good dancers and bad dancers. I fit into the category non-dancer. I can effectively do the "Whiteman's Overbite" dance and the "Air Guitar" dance. I have the secret weapon I call the "Embarrassing Daddy" dance. I bust this move once in a while to refresh the threat of its continued use.
When my daughters dance it is heaven to me. When most anyone else dances around me I feel a little queasy. But when my girls dance - and I think they have actual skills, not just being seen through rose-colored daddy glasses - I am moved. They have such grace, athletic ability, and natural talent (and in some cases, formal training) that gives me joy. The technical aspects of dancing become meaning less under these circumstances. I think they are the best in the world. I love them to death. The boy too, by the way.
I think dancing rituals should be reinstated - as long as they are performed by my daughters and I can view them from the comfort of my recliner.
Monday, August 09, 2010
Melodic Juice
Sadly, I realized that I have entirely too little Jew's harp (unfortunately antisemitic), jaw harp, mouth harp, Ozark harp, trump or juice harp in my life. Wikipedia sez it is "a lamellophone, which is in the category of plucked idiophones: it has a flexible metal tongue attached to a frame...placed in the performer's mouth and plucked with the finger to produce a note."
Me? I wonder why note was not in quotes in the Wikipedia article?
I enjoy a good Jew's harp as much as the next guy - and it has a unique sound. So does a didgeridoo (From Wikipedia: The didgeridoo - also known as a didjeridu or didge - is a wind instrument developed by Indigenous Australians of northern Australia at least 1,500 years ago and is still in widespread usage today both in Australia and around the world.) by the way - I just don't have CD's full of this sort of music.
A void in my life? I think so. Avoid in my life? Nope - what would the washboard players and jug band members do for employment? I'm afraid I'm going to have to support this "art" form.
Now there's a proper use of quotes.
Me? I wonder why note was not in quotes in the Wikipedia article?
I enjoy a good Jew's harp as much as the next guy - and it has a unique sound. So does a didgeridoo (From Wikipedia: The didgeridoo - also known as a didjeridu or didge - is a wind instrument developed by Indigenous Australians of northern Australia at least 1,500 years ago and is still in widespread usage today both in Australia and around the world.) by the way - I just don't have CD's full of this sort of music.
A void in my life? I think so. Avoid in my life? Nope - what would the washboard players and jug band members do for employment? I'm afraid I'm going to have to support this "art" form.
Now there's a proper use of quotes.
Friday, August 06, 2010
You're in Luck
There's insect repellent (and separate mosquito repellent), cat repellent, dog repellent, deer repellent, rabbit repellent, bird repellent (scarecrow?), and even shark repellent. I've decided that I want to be enough of a nuisance that they have to create a "repellent" for me. Turns out there is already a Jeff repellent. It's called "chick flick".
I am horrified to find out that there is a website selling pee as a repellent. You can buy squirt bottles of CoyoteePee, BobcatPee, FoxPee, etc. neatly packaged to allow the user to squirt an area to chase away pests. Have a question about pee? Well, ask the PeeMan.
The following are questions I would ask the PeeMan in no particular order:
1. How do you harvest the pee?
2. Who buys the pee you sell?
3. I understand the liquid, but how do the animals product "granuals"?
4. Is this where you thought you would be when you did your 7th grade career project?
5. Threatening pee I get (CougarPee, etc.), but how is PigPee and ChipmunkPee used?
6. More of a note than a question: Thanks for providing an answer for the iguana problem.
Sincerely,
Very Curious in Phoenix
www.predatorpee.com
I am horrified to find out that there is a website selling pee as a repellent. You can buy squirt bottles of CoyoteePee, BobcatPee, FoxPee, etc. neatly packaged to allow the user to squirt an area to chase away pests. Have a question about pee? Well, ask the PeeMan.
The following are questions I would ask the PeeMan in no particular order:
1. How do you harvest the pee?
2. Who buys the pee you sell?
3. I understand the liquid, but how do the animals product "granuals"?
4. Is this where you thought you would be when you did your 7th grade career project?
5. Threatening pee I get (CougarPee, etc.), but how is PigPee and ChipmunkPee used?
6. More of a note than a question: Thanks for providing an answer for the iguana problem.
Sincerely,
Very Curious in Phoenix
www.predatorpee.com
Thursday, August 05, 2010
Emoti-Con
Cynical Simon Sez: The phrases "...you make me laugh" and "...you're gonna make my cry" are clever devices intended to avoid actual emotional response. In some cases, these phrases are used in lieu of an actual response. "This is a rouse. This is only a rouse. If this had been an actual emotional response, the Attention Phrase you just heard would have been followed by official emotional response such as laughter or crying. This is only a rouse."
Using these phrases allows the user to give the illusion that they want to laugh or cry without actually having to produce. The user can simply say that they felt compelled to cry in response to the words or actions of another but really the feelings backing the words are vacant. No actual emotional response was generated but somehow the phrase-user feels compelled to socially handle the situation by falsely claiming a response. The recipient is placated by a sense that what they said or did was meaningful to or funny to the phrase-user thus causing an emotional reaction.
The recipient receives a false emotional response disguised as real. The user feels nothing - but that fact is hidden.
This is why it is good to be a replicant.
Using these phrases allows the user to give the illusion that they want to laugh or cry without actually having to produce. The user can simply say that they felt compelled to cry in response to the words or actions of another but really the feelings backing the words are vacant. No actual emotional response was generated but somehow the phrase-user feels compelled to socially handle the situation by falsely claiming a response. The recipient is placated by a sense that what they said or did was meaningful to or funny to the phrase-user thus causing an emotional reaction.
The recipient receives a false emotional response disguised as real. The user feels nothing - but that fact is hidden.
This is why it is good to be a replicant.
Wednesday, August 04, 2010
You Rucky
I periodically determine that changing my name may be more advantageous. Names seem to carry too much weight. And everyone plays the 'Name Game' way too often to start another one here. However, it I benefit from a name change, what's to stop me from giving it a go? Apart from being taught my whole life to be proud of my name and to live up to my name, why would I keep it? I've grown far too attached to my name to ever let it go but it may be time to reconsider...
Today, I've decided to change my name to Jeff Luck. All too often I hear people say, "...as Luck would have it." I'm just trying to cash in on this. I envision a Utopian society where everyone falls all over themselves to provide for me as "I would have it." Imagine an entire society dedicated to making sure my preferences are satisfied. I would not wield my new-found name-power unwisely. I'd just do little things like make my iPhone work on Verizon's network and make great-tasting foods healthy.
There is a down side: I'd be blamed all too often for desertion "...her Luck ran out."
Today, I've decided to change my name to Jeff Luck. All too often I hear people say, "...as Luck would have it." I'm just trying to cash in on this. I envision a Utopian society where everyone falls all over themselves to provide for me as "I would have it." Imagine an entire society dedicated to making sure my preferences are satisfied. I would not wield my new-found name-power unwisely. I'd just do little things like make my iPhone work on Verizon's network and make great-tasting foods healthy.
There is a down side: I'd be blamed all too often for desertion "...her Luck ran out."
Tuesday, August 03, 2010
Book Him and Him and Him
I think if I were a senator (and by the way, the notion of this is absolutely ludicrous as I have no political aspirations and don't really like most politicians or what they stand for or what they roll over for or what they do or what they say or what they lie about or what they think we want or what they think we want to hear) and I didn't like someone (as if it were possible for me to dislike someone - I'm mostly unable to find disdain for others and have been cursed/blessed with a great love for everyone which can tend to cause problems especially for those around me who don't like everyone and crave their companionship like I do) I would introduce a bill making it illegal to be that person.
Example: If I didn't like Justin Nutherhater, I would introduce legislation making it against the law to be Justin. Attempts to change names or identification would be futile as the law would be air-tight on these points. Even if that someone were to, say, change their name to an unpronounceable symbol they would still be covered under the anti-themselves law. I guess to be an effective law it would have to be named something generic like "The Best Friends Legislation".
I could take it a step beyond and also make it illegal to be Justin's friend or sell him anything. Anyone caught providing assistance, support, encouragement, or friendship to Justin would be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Then I could just sit back and let the cops do my dirty work for me.
I'm quite certain I'll be elected based on this platform alone.
Example: If I didn't like Justin Nutherhater, I would introduce legislation making it against the law to be Justin. Attempts to change names or identification would be futile as the law would be air-tight on these points. Even if that someone were to, say, change their name to an unpronounceable symbol they would still be covered under the anti-themselves law. I guess to be an effective law it would have to be named something generic like "The Best Friends Legislation".
I could take it a step beyond and also make it illegal to be Justin's friend or sell him anything. Anyone caught providing assistance, support, encouragement, or friendship to Justin would be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Then I could just sit back and let the cops do my dirty work for me.
I'm quite certain I'll be elected based on this platform alone.
Monday, August 02, 2010
Cain't Tuch Dis
I have long been fascinated with optical illusions. There are so many ways to fool vision it is nearly impossible to list all of them. However, the Internet has tried. The Internet is awash, replete, jammed, brimming, teeming, overflowing with optical illusion images. With so many ways to fool the eye, it is a wonder why the Mabel-Factor-Revlang make-up faction hasn't patented some of these illusions to scam the rest of us into thinking those users of Mabel-Factor-Revlang products look different than they appear to us.
This got me thinking about the other four senses. I've been tactilely fooled before - once at EPCOT Center I felt a series of tubes next to each other. They all had water running through them. Warm in the first tube, cool in the second, etc. When felt independently, each one's temperature felt mild, but collectively, the warm felt very hot and the cool felt cold.
Although this illusion is rare (making hot feel cold or hard feel soft), I think there are comparatively fewer auditory, olfactory, or gustatory illusions to be found on the web. It is common that people "hear something" when they really didn't but I'm not referring to mis-heard or mis-tasted experiences. I'm referring to one sound that should be identifiable as one thing but is indeed another - not unlike the sweet sound of my smokin' hot wife's voice which sounds like a combination of unrelated elements.
I think the lack of these illusions will ultimately result in the demise of the Internet as we know it - that or we will all just grow tired of it one day...
This got me thinking about the other four senses. I've been tactilely fooled before - once at EPCOT Center I felt a series of tubes next to each other. They all had water running through them. Warm in the first tube, cool in the second, etc. When felt independently, each one's temperature felt mild, but collectively, the warm felt very hot and the cool felt cold.
Although this illusion is rare (making hot feel cold or hard feel soft), I think there are comparatively fewer auditory, olfactory, or gustatory illusions to be found on the web. It is common that people "hear something" when they really didn't but I'm not referring to mis-heard or mis-tasted experiences. I'm referring to one sound that should be identifiable as one thing but is indeed another - not unlike the sweet sound of my smokin' hot wife's voice which sounds like a combination of unrelated elements.
I think the lack of these illusions will ultimately result in the demise of the Internet as we know it - that or we will all just grow tired of it one day...
Friday, July 30, 2010
Inter-spection Maven
I reached into the small change pocket of my brand new jeans and pulled out a small piece of paper that read, "23" - of course meaning inspected by our fastidious friend Number 23. This can only mean that there are, at last count, at least 23 different agents whose task it is to look over my jeans and determine if they are well enough made that they are worth the $9.00 I will pay for them at Walmart. These dedicated individuals have a difficult task. I'm not sure I'm detail-oriented enough to look at several pairs of jeans and discern their worth based on expected manufacturing standards.
I wonder if God has genes inspectors who determine if a newly created human is ready for dispatch. I must make a note to remind myself to look around my skin for the supernal equivalent to "23" stamped somewhere. It's probably not viewable...
I love 23's work. Her commitment to detail is reassuring. I suppose I could rifle through all the jeans on the store shelves to find only those products that have passed her scrutiny - just to make sure I'm getting a quality pair of $9 jeans.
Do you think on dyslexic days she goes by the alias "32"? It is conceivable that she may feel "permissive" and let a few things slide. Perhaps she has a couple of different numbers that she uses depending on her mood. She unpredictable that way.
I can almost hear the customer service representative on the other end of a jean quality complaint telephone call: "OK, sir, now slip your finger into the change pocket of your jeans - you aren't wearing them now, are you?!? - and locate the inspector's number...now read me that number so we know who is to blame for this unfortunate stitching incident."
It isn't that I'm obsessed with 23 - I like her for her mind, not her number.
I wonder if God has genes inspectors who determine if a newly created human is ready for dispatch. I must make a note to remind myself to look around my skin for the supernal equivalent to "23" stamped somewhere. It's probably not viewable...
I love 23's work. Her commitment to detail is reassuring. I suppose I could rifle through all the jeans on the store shelves to find only those products that have passed her scrutiny - just to make sure I'm getting a quality pair of $9 jeans.
Do you think on dyslexic days she goes by the alias "32"? It is conceivable that she may feel "permissive" and let a few things slide. Perhaps she has a couple of different numbers that she uses depending on her mood. She unpredictable that way.
I can almost hear the customer service representative on the other end of a jean quality complaint telephone call: "OK, sir, now slip your finger into the change pocket of your jeans - you aren't wearing them now, are you?!? - and locate the inspector's number...now read me that number so we know who is to blame for this unfortunate stitching incident."
It isn't that I'm obsessed with 23 - I like her for her mind, not her number.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Fresh as a Dazey
Suppose I had a business of making stuff up. I would enjoy that immensely. I make stuff up all the time. My mind continuously makes stuff up. That is not to say that I'm a liar. I just have a vast, open mind filled with junk waiting to be dumped out. No idea where it comes from, no idea how to use it. It just sits. And ripens (or rots depending on the case) and I periodically take the time to empty the trash. Usually in a Facebook status and a subsequent blog. Much like this one.
So, what if I had a headline-generating business, for example? "Trust the caring professionals at 'Head Acres' for all your headline needs. Guaranteed to be pithy, zany, though-provoking, and un-plagiarized. We specialize in alliterations and double-entendre (which in French means two entendres). Never ludicrous or misleading unless that is the intention. Licensed, unbounded and ensured. Your statusfaction guaranteed." (Portmanteau intended)
My real purpose here was to include a portmanteau just to keep everyone off balance. I have a real fascination with things like this. One of my favorite pass-times is trying to figure out why so much of entertainment is so lame. I guess not all movies, tv shows, radio shows, podcasts, songs, and circus extravaganzas can be quality but I'm amazed how many are just plain plain. Mean. Average. I apply the standard that if I could have done an equal to or better job writing/producing/directing and starring in the event then it is, by definition, lame. I dislike J. Lennno for the same reason. 98.4% of his humor is low-brow, dumbed-down, obvious, and un-funny.
He does have lots of cars, though. Perhaps I should re-think this.
So, what if I had a headline-generating business, for example? "Trust the caring professionals at 'Head Acres' for all your headline needs. Guaranteed to be pithy, zany, though-provoking, and un-plagiarized. We specialize in alliterations and double-entendre (which in French means two entendres). Never ludicrous or misleading unless that is the intention. Licensed, unbounded and ensured. Your statusfaction guaranteed." (Portmanteau intended)
My real purpose here was to include a portmanteau just to keep everyone off balance. I have a real fascination with things like this. One of my favorite pass-times is trying to figure out why so much of entertainment is so lame. I guess not all movies, tv shows, radio shows, podcasts, songs, and circus extravaganzas can be quality but I'm amazed how many are just plain plain. Mean. Average. I apply the standard that if I could have done an equal to or better job writing/producing/directing and starring in the event then it is, by definition, lame. I dislike J. Lennno for the same reason. 98.4% of his humor is low-brow, dumbed-down, obvious, and un-funny.
He does have lots of cars, though. Perhaps I should re-think this.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Staycation Quotation
OK, so I have a real problem with the portmanteau "staycation." See what I did there? I replaced the part of the word with another word thus changing the meaning. It's a Frankenword. Staycations, if I can use that word from now on without quotations, are a reported way to save money by vacationing close to home. I think in some instances (certainly not my instance) it means to stay in the United States instead of vacationing abroad with a broad, senator.
The issue I have with staycations is that it conjures an image of sitting around my house unshowered in my underpants surfing the net, napping, or surfing the net. The image repulses me (though the activity is strangely alluring). I think it is unfair to call vacationing in another part of the US, and for most Arizona residents this means California, a staycation. It undermines the very reason for vacationing. To vacate. Even if it involves going to Scottsdale and holing up in the Scottsdale Princess Resort for a few days away from it all, it is still a vacation. After all, Germans often come here on vacation.
Who is to say that whenever we get away from the routine it can't be classified as a vacation? I guess the main argument against such classification is that those days when a trip to Fry's Electronics in Tempe is in order would count against the 2-weeks vacation time allotted by employers. Scratch that idea.
So, perhaps using this logic, if it is called a staycation we still have 2-weeks vacation coming to us regardless of how much staycation time we have taken. I'm starting to warm up to the idea.
I think I'll invent a the concept of "straycation." As long as we are inventing words we may as well mutilate the concept as well. A straycation (now I'm just too lazy to use quotes) has the following rules:
1. Set amount of time away
2. No set destination
3. Random amount of gasoline in the car
4. Drive. Exit when you want, turn when you want, drive some more.
5. When the "Low Fuel" indicator light illuminates, stay there.
6. Repeat until arriving somewhere enjoyable and distant.
7. Meet and participate in a community event in the stray location.
8. Find a different way home.
Straycations are intended to perpetuate and simulate the stress imposed by daily life. This way we feel comfortable basking in the joy of pain and don't have to suffer the adverse effects of time off.
What's the use of going to work when you just have to turn around and go back on vacation?
The issue I have with staycations is that it conjures an image of sitting around my house unshowered in my underpants surfing the net, napping, or surfing the net. The image repulses me (though the activity is strangely alluring). I think it is unfair to call vacationing in another part of the US, and for most Arizona residents this means California, a staycation. It undermines the very reason for vacationing. To vacate. Even if it involves going to Scottsdale and holing up in the Scottsdale Princess Resort for a few days away from it all, it is still a vacation. After all, Germans often come here on vacation.
Who is to say that whenever we get away from the routine it can't be classified as a vacation? I guess the main argument against such classification is that those days when a trip to Fry's Electronics in Tempe is in order would count against the 2-weeks vacation time allotted by employers. Scratch that idea.
So, perhaps using this logic, if it is called a staycation we still have 2-weeks vacation coming to us regardless of how much staycation time we have taken. I'm starting to warm up to the idea.
I think I'll invent a the concept of "straycation." As long as we are inventing words we may as well mutilate the concept as well. A straycation (now I'm just too lazy to use quotes) has the following rules:
1. Set amount of time away
2. No set destination
3. Random amount of gasoline in the car
4. Drive. Exit when you want, turn when you want, drive some more.
5. When the "Low Fuel" indicator light illuminates, stay there.
6. Repeat until arriving somewhere enjoyable and distant.
7. Meet and participate in a community event in the stray location.
8. Find a different way home.
Straycations are intended to perpetuate and simulate the stress imposed by daily life. This way we feel comfortable basking in the joy of pain and don't have to suffer the adverse effects of time off.
What's the use of going to work when you just have to turn around and go back on vacation?
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
The Joke's on Me
There was an old Saturday Night Live running gag where on Weekend Update they would tell a news story and then follow it up with, "prompting George Steinbrenner to Fire Billy Martin." You see, George fired Billy many times. Rehired him and then fired him again. It's like those people who you hear about who get a divorce and then re-marry the same person again.
It's hard to comprehend but then again easy to understand. We all change in life. We view things differently. We discover that the things that bugged us before don't really bug us anymore. We find out the hard way that the greener grass on the other side of the fence has rodents and spikes in it as well and that our green grass is just fine. So in that sense I accept the notion that the spouse or coach you pitched out in a rage can once again gain favor with you and you can ultimately see fit to re-enter that relationship.
My point is this: the following joke will be made by the end of today by someone else and so I will be the first to record it:
George Steinbrenner died today at the age of 80. His first order of business in heaven: Fire Billy Martin. I don't think that joke is necessarily funny but I wanted to be the first one on record to say it. There will be others but they are all comparative posers.
Oh, and I still dislike Derek Jeeter. And Kobe.
It's hard to comprehend but then again easy to understand. We all change in life. We view things differently. We discover that the things that bugged us before don't really bug us anymore. We find out the hard way that the greener grass on the other side of the fence has rodents and spikes in it as well and that our green grass is just fine. So in that sense I accept the notion that the spouse or coach you pitched out in a rage can once again gain favor with you and you can ultimately see fit to re-enter that relationship.
My point is this: the following joke will be made by the end of today by someone else and so I will be the first to record it:
George Steinbrenner died today at the age of 80. His first order of business in heaven: Fire Billy Martin. I don't think that joke is necessarily funny but I wanted to be the first one on record to say it. There will be others but they are all comparative posers.
Oh, and I still dislike Derek Jeeter. And Kobe.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Invective Castigation
Those who really know me understand that this is mostly a joke. I did get caught, though, assisting someone who, as my father-in-law would say, is "not scholarship material." I grew tired of their inability to listen to me but worse, I was helping them with things I had no business being involved with - like advanced domain server configuration for free. As I became more and more frustrated that I had to answer his many uninformed questions I found myself in the midst of what I will call a 'patience deficit' situation. When this happens to me, I usually don't react to it as there is nothing that can be done to help their circumstance. I am not able to, for example, make this difficult task any easier or make them inherently smarter. So, as a result, I feel helpless but none the less resigned to accept it. This character trait makes me good at my job and frustrating to my smokin' hot wife. She'd like to see a little more ire once in a while I'm afraid.
What I hate is when I get thanked for my patience - especially when I'm not being patient. Right in the middle of a sarcastic, snide, cynical, caustic, mocking, irascible comment to an arguably deserving dolt, if said dolt congratulates me for my patience it usually derails my vitriol and I end up calming down and being forced toward rationality. Just as I sink my teeth into a juicy diatribe with the intent of making the recipient feel 'like a penny waiting for change,' (Thanks Papa Woods for the colloquialism) I get dipped in a figurative icy depth.
Where's the delicious satisfaction in that?
What I hate is when I get thanked for my patience - especially when I'm not being patient. Right in the middle of a sarcastic, snide, cynical, caustic, mocking, irascible comment to an arguably deserving dolt, if said dolt congratulates me for my patience it usually derails my vitriol and I end up calming down and being forced toward rationality. Just as I sink my teeth into a juicy diatribe with the intent of making the recipient feel 'like a penny waiting for change,' (Thanks Papa Woods for the colloquialism) I get dipped in a figurative icy depth.
Where's the delicious satisfaction in that?
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Fluorescent Camo
The blind, cold-blooded scorpion, Lester, kicks back in the heat for a few hours. He can tell when it is day because he can feel the rejuvenating sunlight warming his body. Back from a day of harvesting and sunning, he engages in a quick chat with a few of his buddies. "I've seen things you critters wouldn't believe," he says. "Well, 'seen' is a little strong a word as we're all blind, but you get my point." The wife strolls through with 70 babies on her back. She don't mind.
"Yep," Lester says, "sensed another human today. I try to hold still and blend in to the wood I'm standing on. The block fence we live in is brown so the story goes. When I'm on that thing ain't nobody can see me even in broad daylight - not that I have a concept of that."
"Lester," a sheepish voice from the buddy corp chimes in, "you still sound sore that our species lacks vision. We have shape-shifting bodies, exoskeleton, and the most awesome stinger and it's filled with poison to boot. Yet all you can talk about is how you can't see. What's so great about seeing anyway? Are you a visual varmint? How would you know if you were? So why the constant complaint about sight? I don't get it."
Lester seems more indignant than before and boasts, "...so I evade humans with the best of them even though they can see and I can't. I blend in. Nothing to see here, I'm just a stick and a leaf. Move along little giant human. What's that? I what? Be careful at night? Why? I frickin' glow in black light? You've got to be KIDDING me!"
Friday, July 09, 2010
Earth Tones
Before the introduction of this poisonous gas called oxygen, the Earth would have appeared green from outer space. To this I say, "Thank you, oxygen!" I would hate to clash with the other heavenly bodies in our solar system. Green Earth and orange Mars just sounds like a bad 70's shag carpet. And given the yellow Sun if Earth were green we would have to call it the LemonLime System - which is just wimpy!
Thursday, July 08, 2010
Rabid Chipmunk
When I was growing up we were forced to be afraid of dog bites (or rat bites, or bat bites, or bites from a crazed, rabid chipmunk, etc.) because these animals were all known to have rabies. Now, I've not done a study to find out how true this is - mainly because I'm too scared - but it can't be as widespread as we were lead to believe by the neighborhood fraidy-cats (also known by their pseudonym scardey-cats). I wonder if fraidy-cats have rabies too.
What if rabies were carcinogenic? "Well, sir, I have good news and bad news," the doctor would say. "The good news is that the 30 shots in your eyeball (or stomach depending on which neighborhood you grew up in) seems to have cured your rabies. The bad news is that rabies causes cancer in laboratory rats. Shall I pour you up a Chemo-cocktail now or wait for symptoms?"
We were told that the cure for rabies is 30 shots in various parts of the body. Essentially, there isn't a cure as I've come to find out. Rabies is a virus. We can't kill them without killing the host. But as kids we were convinced that 30 shots was the answer. And by the way, why in the world did we believe that? What can they do with 30 shots that they can't do with one REALLY BIG shot? Or, is the elemental mixture of chemicals so delicate as to not be allowed to come in contact with each other outside the host? Why is it OK inside the host? Who knows. Whether it was in the eyeball, in the stomach, or under the fingernails, I was committed to avoiding the treatment for rabies altogether.
Now if I can just cast out the demons associated with a fictitious crab-like creature called a 'Lotus' that lived across the street from my cousin's house in Phoenix I would be fairly well adjusted. Wow, I was really scared of that thing.
What if rabies were carcinogenic? "Well, sir, I have good news and bad news," the doctor would say. "The good news is that the 30 shots in your eyeball (or stomach depending on which neighborhood you grew up in) seems to have cured your rabies. The bad news is that rabies causes cancer in laboratory rats. Shall I pour you up a Chemo-cocktail now or wait for symptoms?"
We were told that the cure for rabies is 30 shots in various parts of the body. Essentially, there isn't a cure as I've come to find out. Rabies is a virus. We can't kill them without killing the host. But as kids we were convinced that 30 shots was the answer. And by the way, why in the world did we believe that? What can they do with 30 shots that they can't do with one REALLY BIG shot? Or, is the elemental mixture of chemicals so delicate as to not be allowed to come in contact with each other outside the host? Why is it OK inside the host? Who knows. Whether it was in the eyeball, in the stomach, or under the fingernails, I was committed to avoiding the treatment for rabies altogether.
Now if I can just cast out the demons associated with a fictitious crab-like creature called a 'Lotus' that lived across the street from my cousin's house in Phoenix I would be fairly well adjusted. Wow, I was really scared of that thing.
Wednesday, July 07, 2010
The Making of...
Facebook | Jeff Crandall
Movieland Bucketlist #22: Blinded by the light, I pull my way to freedom. The lines on my face are deep and unfamiliar. The only time I saw my reflection in the last 27 years was in a pool of sweat on the stone prison floor. To escape, I wove a rope from the hair I found in my food, or that which I was able to harvest from passing rats. I can't decide what I missed more: Mexican food or movie-house popcorn..."
The making of Movieland Bucketlist #22. I have long been a fan of movies. I think there are quite a few things that happen in movies that I would like to do: run on top of a moving train, slide in the mud down a long hill into a ravine, or kiss my smokin' hot wife just before exiting the gondola, skiing down the Swiss Alps with my AK-47 in hand spraying bad guys with a shower of bullets, and then slide on in to the lodge where I order up a hot chocolate with those little miniature marshmallows on top only to be greeted by my arch nemesis holding a mug and a Glock. Fortunately my smokin' hot wife emerges from the other door and takes Ms. Nemesis out and I manage to catch the mug without spilling a drop.
So, #22 starts out with me in prison harvesting any material available to weave a rope that I can use to escape. After wrongfully being incarcerated for 27 years I can think of so many other things that would be important to me that the two most trivial things - Mexican food and popcorn - seem ridiculously appropriate thereby amusing to me.
I often write things just to amuse myself.
Movieland Bucketlist #22: Blinded by the light, I pull my way to freedom. The lines on my face are deep and unfamiliar. The only time I saw my reflection in the last 27 years was in a pool of sweat on the stone prison floor. To escape, I wove a rope from the hair I found in my food, or that which I was able to harvest from passing rats. I can't decide what I missed more: Mexican food or movie-house popcorn..."
The making of Movieland Bucketlist #22. I have long been a fan of movies. I think there are quite a few things that happen in movies that I would like to do: run on top of a moving train, slide in the mud down a long hill into a ravine, or kiss my smokin' hot wife just before exiting the gondola, skiing down the Swiss Alps with my AK-47 in hand spraying bad guys with a shower of bullets, and then slide on in to the lodge where I order up a hot chocolate with those little miniature marshmallows on top only to be greeted by my arch nemesis holding a mug and a Glock. Fortunately my smokin' hot wife emerges from the other door and takes Ms. Nemesis out and I manage to catch the mug without spilling a drop.
So, #22 starts out with me in prison harvesting any material available to weave a rope that I can use to escape. After wrongfully being incarcerated for 27 years I can think of so many other things that would be important to me that the two most trivial things - Mexican food and popcorn - seem ridiculously appropriate thereby amusing to me.
I often write things just to amuse myself.
Tuesday, July 06, 2010
You Spin Me Right Round
I've decided I won't be doing anything "for the record" anymore. I've heard too many people who pontificate endlessly about nothing but when they really want to be serious or really make a point, they way, "...for the record." This puts the recorder on notice that not only is next thought important, but the last 20 minutes is completely forgettable. This can be handy in denial. This goes along with the phrase, "I mean it!" As soon as someone says, "I mean it," I immediately wonder whether they did not mean anything else they have said.
And if anyone says "...for the record" to me, I'm going to have to inform them that I am not keeping any records either. Beyond the record loosely kept in my head, no official record of their 'for the record' will be kept and reference back to that will be suspect. I have yet to join in a conversation where the other person reminded me that they went on record as having said or meant something. I consider this unfair anyway because they did not witness me writing anything down.
And by the way, where is the proverbial "permanent record" we were all threatened with when we were in elementary school. Too often others have access to it and that berry fight comes back to haunt me again.
And if anyone says "...for the record" to me, I'm going to have to inform them that I am not keeping any records either. Beyond the record loosely kept in my head, no official record of their 'for the record' will be kept and reference back to that will be suspect. I have yet to join in a conversation where the other person reminded me that they went on record as having said or meant something. I consider this unfair anyway because they did not witness me writing anything down.
And by the way, where is the proverbial "permanent record" we were all threatened with when we were in elementary school. Too often others have access to it and that berry fight comes back to haunt me again.
Saturday, July 03, 2010
Does this Space Shuttle make me look fat?
What if astronauts could take a friend? As an astronaut you are granted a buddy pass. "Hey, dude, I'm going to the moon, wanna come with?" I can see astronauts passing all the physicals, all the rigorous testing, all the mental, physical, and emotional screening and then when they finally complete the process, the only thing they can think to do is invite their buddies to join in on the success. Oh the Astro-Frat parties that they would throw in the name of achievement. "Look at me, I'm an astronaut. And by the way, while I'm orbiting Earth don't think I won't be creating a little moonlight of my own out the window. "Endeavor this!"
Or better yet, "Hey, babe, there's room in this capsule for one more..." Although this sounds nice, I'm sure I'd ask a self-conscious girl, "No way," she'd say, "what if I get up there and everyone else is weightless EXCEPT ME?!?" Heh, pickup lines from an astronaut don't really have to be all that clever. "You are out of this world..." or "Want to take a ride in my rocket? We'll have a blast..." or "Sure you have to, but those space suits are slimming so no worries."
If it is our goal to one day inhabit space, we've got to start taking out civilians and test some of the gear on "end users." That way we know if they have been designed for the masses or just for the few highly skilled casanovastronauts.
Or better yet, "Hey, babe, there's room in this capsule for one more..." Although this sounds nice, I'm sure I'd ask a self-conscious girl, "No way," she'd say, "what if I get up there and everyone else is weightless EXCEPT ME?!?" Heh, pickup lines from an astronaut don't really have to be all that clever. "You are out of this world..." or "Want to take a ride in my rocket? We'll have a blast..." or "Sure you have to, but those space suits are slimming so no worries."
If it is our goal to one day inhabit space, we've got to start taking out civilians and test some of the gear on "end users." That way we know if they have been designed for the masses or just for the few highly skilled casanovastronauts.
Friday, July 02, 2010
Strained Peas
I remember hearing a song with my dad once and naming the band. We must have been in a store or something - I don't think I was somewhere "tuning out" with my dad. "It's The Cure," I said, "I really like them." His reply was classic, "They are called 'Penicillin'?" For the young whipper-snappers that is what they used to call penicillin back in the day because once it was discovered it could cure anything. They didn't know that my smokin' hot wife would be allergic to it.
What frightens me is some day I will also be trapped into references so ancient that nobody remembers them anymore. "Where's the beef," I'll ask with a knowing grin to which they will reply, "Gramps, it's blended in with your strained peas."
Growing old is bittersweet.
What frightens me is some day I will also be trapped into references so ancient that nobody remembers them anymore. "Where's the beef," I'll ask with a knowing grin to which they will reply, "Gramps, it's blended in with your strained peas."
Growing old is bittersweet.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Updated Statuseses Last Entry
From now on I will post in both placed.
Oromaxillofacial surgeons correct a wide spectrum of diseases, injuries and defects in the head, neck, face, jaws. I think we should adopt this naming convention for every job where we list every job function right in the title. It may be hazardous for some jobs, though. Citysitonmybuttdrivingagovernmenttrucknappingoccasionallyandworkonceinawhile Worker becomes a little difficult to fit on a business card.
I say we come up with derogatory terms for everything and use those words all the time. That way we become desensatized to them. This way nobody ever takes offense at them ever again. Political correctness becomes a thing of the past. I call this the "Sneetch" Principal. Haiku topics: The Thrill of Victory -or- The Agony of Defeat.
In the wake of the pest control guy, there is a litany of entymological corpses on my office floor that would horrify even the most casual Ahimsa practitioner.
I hope my haircut scabs over pretty soon. Note to self: 1) you shouldn't have to heal from a haircut, and B) I should consider paying more than $7 for said haircut. Maybe those two realizations are related.
In certain circles, squares angle for power. Me? I prefer dodecahedrons. This explains why my smoking' hot wife and I may not have chemistry but we certainly have geometry. Our love is somewhere between a cyclic quadrilateral and a spherical polygon.
Randomizing music is a Janusian beast - one moment bringing uncanny delight and the next vexing with esoteric hatred. I think right after Mike Jackson died he was granted the ability to control the randomizer function of my iPod as I heard more MJ then than ever before - although this may be the phenomenon that happens after you buy a new car and then start seeing the same model on the road constantly...
24 years ago today 1 + 1 = 1. I love you my smokin' hot wife! Happy Anniversary - you deserve better but you're stuck with me for at least 24 more. According to Wikipedia (which cannot be wrong) 24th anniversary is "Opal." I'll wait for next year as silver seems more legit...
So: All too often I see the odd soccer/football/basketball/spelling bee player gesture toward the sky with hands pressed together in "prayer" fashion praising a higher power for their ability to succeed. My issue is not the gesture but the direction. Say an American, an Australian, and a Mongolian cribbage player simultaneously achieve greatness and simultaneously point upward. Which one hits their target?
So: If you live in the Phoenix Metro area you know that it will be 110 degrees today. My issue is not the temperature but the disgust smokers have for their own smoke. Even though it is 110 outside, I see smokers with their window down hanging the cig. outside in an apparent attempt to air out their car. I suppose there are other reasons to roll down the window in inclement weather as well..
Oromaxillofacial surgeons correct a wide spectrum of diseases, injuries and defects in the head, neck, face, jaws. I think we should adopt this naming convention for every job where we list every job function right in the title. It may be hazardous for some jobs, though. Citysitonmybuttdrivingagovernmenttrucknappingoccasionallyandworkonceinawhile Worker becomes a little difficult to fit on a business card.
I say we come up with derogatory terms for everything and use those words all the time. That way we become desensatized to them. This way nobody ever takes offense at them ever again. Political correctness becomes a thing of the past. I call this the "Sneetch" Principal. Haiku topics: The Thrill of Victory -or- The Agony of Defeat.
In the wake of the pest control guy, there is a litany of entymological corpses on my office floor that would horrify even the most casual Ahimsa practitioner.
I hope my haircut scabs over pretty soon. Note to self: 1) you shouldn't have to heal from a haircut, and B) I should consider paying more than $7 for said haircut. Maybe those two realizations are related.
In certain circles, squares angle for power. Me? I prefer dodecahedrons. This explains why my smoking' hot wife and I may not have chemistry but we certainly have geometry. Our love is somewhere between a cyclic quadrilateral and a spherical polygon.
Randomizing music is a Janusian beast - one moment bringing uncanny delight and the next vexing with esoteric hatred. I think right after Mike Jackson died he was granted the ability to control the randomizer function of my iPod as I heard more MJ then than ever before - although this may be the phenomenon that happens after you buy a new car and then start seeing the same model on the road constantly...
24 years ago today 1 + 1 = 1. I love you my smokin' hot wife! Happy Anniversary - you deserve better but you're stuck with me for at least 24 more. According to Wikipedia (which cannot be wrong) 24th anniversary is "Opal." I'll wait for next year as silver seems more legit...
So: All too often I see the odd soccer/football/basketball/spelling bee player gesture toward the sky with hands pressed together in "prayer" fashion praising a higher power for their ability to succeed. My issue is not the gesture but the direction. Say an American, an Australian, and a Mongolian cribbage player simultaneously achieve greatness and simultaneously point upward. Which one hits their target?
So: If you live in the Phoenix Metro area you know that it will be 110 degrees today. My issue is not the temperature but the disgust smokers have for their own smoke. Even though it is 110 outside, I see smokers with their window down hanging the cig. outside in an apparent attempt to air out their car. I suppose there are other reasons to roll down the window in inclement weather as well..
Time to Dance
I have redirected martiansummer.com to my blog. This somehow completes me and makes me official. Now, when you need to read and subsequently scratch your head in confusion, you'll be able to go to www.martiansummer.com to access this. Martian Summer comes from a song by Johnny Warman. I have the LP of this song but have not digitized it yet. Maybe I can find it somewhere. The tag line of my blog is from that song.
Anyway, I will attend to this blog and update it whenever I update my status on FB - which is nearly every day.
Anyway, I will attend to this blog and update it whenever I update my status on FB - which is nearly every day.
Thursday, January 07, 2010
Secret Hidden
Denied self? Perhaps.
Yet they gaze.
Who is to judge? All.
The purpose of deceit
To cloud the real
To manage the judge
To fool them. All.
No deficiencies.
Nothing authentic
naught of shame.
Surface bliss and control
Portrays the hider
Physical limits
Emotional scars
The deep and dark
All would misunderstand
There is no turmoil
Churning here
None for All to see
But why to guard?
Avoid derision?
Dawn the Secret armor
Stay safe and shallow
and protected from All.
Comfort lies hidden
Unexposed.
Shielded from the divisive
Who plot to use
The naked truth
To supplement pain.
All unconcerned
With tender things
That breed feelings
the hiders harbor and
strenuously obscure
Better to bury
Disguise the flaws
Unseen and undetected
The glossy glint
The surface will suffice
Hazard lurks as All observe
Smooth skin without ripple
And so infer
their own dark
Fallacious parade
A book's cover
pages unread.
Sealed from harm
The dog-eared truth
locked, secret, safe.
Hidden from All.
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