I have my quirks. One of them is I use the Lord's name in "vain" a lot---or rather I am accused of using His name in vain.
Allow me to clear the record: I don't use the Lord's name in vain. Nope. Not at all. Each time it escapes my lips it is aimed. Targeted. Pointed directly in desperate prayer at the object or event of my frustration that it may be destroyed, thwarted, reinstalled, redirected, unmade. There is nothing vain about it. For instance when a spider jumps at me, a hammer drops onto my foot, or a drunken fool swerves into my lane, I am known to launch into one or two various colorful renderings of His mighty name, and there is in that moment of intense "prayer" the implicit understanding between me and God that what I mean is: Look Lord! There it is Lord! May all the righteous fury of creation rend this offensive thing and remove it from the face of the Earth.There is the thing that is unholy and of the devil and must be smitten! Smite it! Smite! That is not in vain. It is very much meant in the most spiritually productive of ways. I am beseeching the God of Creation in all sincerity for redress of the wrongs imposed upon me by His creation and I acknowledge with great humility that He is the final arbiter of the refund which I seek, that being the reason I call upon Him in such a stressful manner.
It never works.
Karma on the other hand does seem to make an appearance every now and then. Perhaps the Buddhists are on to something. Don't smite me. For *&^ &^%$!
Tuesday, December 8, 2015
Thursday, September 10, 2015
Politicians Are Tools
People get fired up over politics. That is a behavior as old as the hills and I accept it. I laugh at it, however, and the reason why is because it seems to me people are getting fired up over nails and saws, drills and augers, hammers and plungers. Allow me to explain:
What I really think politically is that one size does not fit all. One party platform is not the answer to every problem. I don't think you can apply one political approach to every issue and come away successful every time. Different problems take different solutions and no one has a monopoly on those solutions. Sometimes one group has got it. Sometimes another group. Sometimes neither one.
If I put my support behind one size fits all every time then I am limiting myself and I am limiting my success. I understand why political parties form and I understand why there are different political ideologies, but to fight like cats and dogs over these things to the exclusion of getting things done is unfortunate.
Personal solutions aren't by nature politically oriented things. Neither is personal life. I don't walk around the grocery store thinking I need to shop libertarian. I don't put on my clothes like a conservative. I don't play with my children like a socialist. I don't live politics, because most of the time I don't need them to tackle the normal every day problems of my life.
I see politics as something useful to tackle things too large for personal solutions. Politics is an artificial construct created to organize like minded people into managing problems too large for any one person. That's good. It's a good tool for that. In any job, however, if the tool isn't working you use another one and that is how politics should be approached.
If you ask me to pick a political side simply to label me on a political side I'll tell you you are using the tool of politics the wrong way. On the other hand if you tell me there is a problem and this side has this solution I will tell you I either agree or I don't. I try to get behind good solutions to problems I care about, not over arching political ideologies. That may make me seem politically wishy washy and as far as supporting one ideology or the other, I am. I'm not focused on the party however. I am focused on the best way to get a lot of people to get together to solve big problems. That's what politics is for.
Well that and taking over the world, but that's another problem. Next week: when politics tries to take over the world and 7 sugar free recipes for Fall family fun! Plus I'll knit a sweater! In the closet. Sugar free.
What I really think politically is that one size does not fit all. One party platform is not the answer to every problem. I don't think you can apply one political approach to every issue and come away successful every time. Different problems take different solutions and no one has a monopoly on those solutions. Sometimes one group has got it. Sometimes another group. Sometimes neither one.
If I put my support behind one size fits all every time then I am limiting myself and I am limiting my success. I understand why political parties form and I understand why there are different political ideologies, but to fight like cats and dogs over these things to the exclusion of getting things done is unfortunate.
Personal solutions aren't by nature politically oriented things. Neither is personal life. I don't walk around the grocery store thinking I need to shop libertarian. I don't put on my clothes like a conservative. I don't play with my children like a socialist. I don't live politics, because most of the time I don't need them to tackle the normal every day problems of my life.
I see politics as something useful to tackle things too large for personal solutions. Politics is an artificial construct created to organize like minded people into managing problems too large for any one person. That's good. It's a good tool for that. In any job, however, if the tool isn't working you use another one and that is how politics should be approached.
If you ask me to pick a political side simply to label me on a political side I'll tell you you are using the tool of politics the wrong way. On the other hand if you tell me there is a problem and this side has this solution I will tell you I either agree or I don't. I try to get behind good solutions to problems I care about, not over arching political ideologies. That may make me seem politically wishy washy and as far as supporting one ideology or the other, I am. I'm not focused on the party however. I am focused on the best way to get a lot of people to get together to solve big problems. That's what politics is for.
Well that and taking over the world, but that's another problem. Next week: when politics tries to take over the world and 7 sugar free recipes for Fall family fun! Plus I'll knit a sweater! In the closet. Sugar free.
Saturday, August 29, 2015
Cha ching
Smoking is kind of dumb. It's been around a long time. A long time indeed. Oh sure people think they've gone and shut the whole industry down and made things smoke free, and for the most part they have. Compare smoking in the 2010's to smoking in the 1970's. Big difference. But dumb carries on and smoking right along with it.
Revenge is kind of dumb too. It's been around a long time as well. A long time indeed. For the most part duels and such have ended and good riddance. Yet how many Alexander Hamiltons and Evariste Galois did we have to kill in order to end that foolishness? But dumb carries on and revenge right along with it.
When smoking and revenge intersect dumb sets up shop and sells to both of them. I know because I stand at that intersection and can testify. Now if smokers are dumb and those set on revenge are dumb and I don't smoke then I must be the latter. Yes, I do have frequent need of revenge against smokers and therefore accept my own particular brand of stupid in this matter. Allow me to explain. You see, I have found a simple form of revenge against bad smokers that I am not necessarily proud of, yet which makes me so undeniably satisfied I think it may be genius: I invest in tobacco companies.
That's right. I am an activist investor. No not that kind. I long ago realized that trying to buy up a controlling number of shares to change a company will not actually change the world, regardless of what George Soros thinks, bless his little heart. No, I am the kind of investor that derives great satisfaction in bringing my knowledge of investing to bear against the numbskulls that cause me and everyone else so much angst out in public. I'm not talking about polite smokers. They're fine. God bless em! I have no problem with them.You guys care about other people. You get it. Smoke and enjoy my friends!
No, I am talking about the impolite smokers. We all know the type: young, stupid, think the whole world is against them, just smoking in the parking lot between stints in jail or juvenile. Or worse the older ones that ought to know better, but for whatever reason think tattoos, menthols, and sagging cleavage make them look cool at age 60.Young and old, they smoke in front of the doors at Target. They blow smoke on you and your baby as you walk by. They get off the train and light up right on the platform, smoking laws and second hand smoke be damned. You know what they are thinking, and it isn't nice. You ignore them or you confront them. Either way there isn't much satisfaction in it.
However, I have found a solution to them that is better than either ignoring them or confronting them. It brings me satisfaction. Since they insist on blowing their smoke in my face I simply smile big, and think to myself CHA CHING! Thank you for paying me for your idiocy and rudeness. I appreciate it. Your dumb habit puts money into my pocket in the form of quarterly dividends and long term share appreciation. Thank you for smoking you Neanderthal.
Yes I know. It's not very nice of me. Or ethical. But it is revenge. Revenge for their particular drag on me and society at large. Revenge for the asinine way they live and the way they force me to partake of it anytime we come in contact. Cha ching captain idiot. I hope you get a clue sometime, but until you do cha ching. Cha ching. Cha ching. Cha ching.
It changes nothing really, but it makes me feel better about them. The dregs of society. Always there dregging around or whatever it is they do between muggings. Mugging us on the street. Mugging our taxes. Mugging our nation. Big tobacco allows us to mug them back almost to a man. I'm not sure what that says about corporations, or society, or me, but when I desperately need a way to respond to the moron in leather laughing at me and smoking in my children's' faces I gotta tell ya, hardly anything beats it. It is beautifully, wickedly satisfying revenge. I accept my stupidity in this matter. Cha ching.
Revenge is kind of dumb too. It's been around a long time as well. A long time indeed. For the most part duels and such have ended and good riddance. Yet how many Alexander Hamiltons and Evariste Galois did we have to kill in order to end that foolishness? But dumb carries on and revenge right along with it.
When smoking and revenge intersect dumb sets up shop and sells to both of them. I know because I stand at that intersection and can testify. Now if smokers are dumb and those set on revenge are dumb and I don't smoke then I must be the latter. Yes, I do have frequent need of revenge against smokers and therefore accept my own particular brand of stupid in this matter. Allow me to explain. You see, I have found a simple form of revenge against bad smokers that I am not necessarily proud of, yet which makes me so undeniably satisfied I think it may be genius: I invest in tobacco companies.
That's right. I am an activist investor. No not that kind. I long ago realized that trying to buy up a controlling number of shares to change a company will not actually change the world, regardless of what George Soros thinks, bless his little heart. No, I am the kind of investor that derives great satisfaction in bringing my knowledge of investing to bear against the numbskulls that cause me and everyone else so much angst out in public. I'm not talking about polite smokers. They're fine. God bless em! I have no problem with them.You guys care about other people. You get it. Smoke and enjoy my friends!
No, I am talking about the impolite smokers. We all know the type: young, stupid, think the whole world is against them, just smoking in the parking lot between stints in jail or juvenile. Or worse the older ones that ought to know better, but for whatever reason think tattoos, menthols, and sagging cleavage make them look cool at age 60.Young and old, they smoke in front of the doors at Target. They blow smoke on you and your baby as you walk by. They get off the train and light up right on the platform, smoking laws and second hand smoke be damned. You know what they are thinking, and it isn't nice. You ignore them or you confront them. Either way there isn't much satisfaction in it.
However, I have found a solution to them that is better than either ignoring them or confronting them. It brings me satisfaction. Since they insist on blowing their smoke in my face I simply smile big, and think to myself CHA CHING! Thank you for paying me for your idiocy and rudeness. I appreciate it. Your dumb habit puts money into my pocket in the form of quarterly dividends and long term share appreciation. Thank you for smoking you Neanderthal.
Yes I know. It's not very nice of me. Or ethical. But it is revenge. Revenge for their particular drag on me and society at large. Revenge for the asinine way they live and the way they force me to partake of it anytime we come in contact. Cha ching captain idiot. I hope you get a clue sometime, but until you do cha ching. Cha ching. Cha ching. Cha ching.
It changes nothing really, but it makes me feel better about them. The dregs of society. Always there dregging around or whatever it is they do between muggings. Mugging us on the street. Mugging our taxes. Mugging our nation. Big tobacco allows us to mug them back almost to a man. I'm not sure what that says about corporations, or society, or me, but when I desperately need a way to respond to the moron in leather laughing at me and smoking in my children's' faces I gotta tell ya, hardly anything beats it. It is beautifully, wickedly satisfying revenge. I accept my stupidity in this matter. Cha ching.
Friday, July 31, 2015
Christmas Cards in July
It's almost Christmas time and what better way to celebrate the commercial Christmas creep than by getting your Christmas cards in order! In Summer. This is something I never do. Not even in November.
Don't get me wrong. I mean to send out Christmas cards. I painstakingly arrange address lists. I check them once. I check them twice. I decide which people I know are naughty or nice. Because, you know, Santa Claus. He's coming to town. I even buy stamps. That's usually as far as I get.
The next step involves buying cards, addressing envelopes, licking them and sending them. Let's ignore the fact that America was made aware of the dangers of licking too many envelopes by the good folks at Seinfeld a few years back. I mean that's bad enough. Instead let's focus on buying cards.
Once upon a time in my Texas high school art class the teacher informed us that we the students, would be designing the school district's Christmas card for the year. It had to be indicative of rural Texas. It had to be religiously and culturally benign (since Christmas is all about religious and cultural benignedness....), and it had to showcase the talent of the students in the district. Fair enough.
I set about drawing up a nice card with candles on it. Nice candles. Pretty candles. The kind of candles Yankee Candle later made into a thriving business. I worked hard.
A week later the entries were all in and the administration had flat out denied all offerings. The teacher was incensed. Christmas potpourri incensed! I distinctly remember her sitting on her desk and going through each card and berating us for not stepping it up. Most of the cards earned a nope. No. Not even! They didn't even look at this one! Nada. My card earned a "they considered this one but discarded it as not enough what they were looking for". They being the grinches on the board.
Eventually my art teacher got one of the senior students to come up with a nice bucolic rural Texas scene of a dilapidated barn. It wasn't even covered in snow. Merry Christmas. Err Happy Holidays. Joyous whatever.
As a result of this "trauma" I have a hard time picking out Christmas cards. Do I get the beautiful ones with the Star of Bethlehem shining down on poor Mary sitting on a camel? How about that nice one with the Chistmas Tree all lit up and covered in bugles? I like the pastoral scenes of sleds dashing through the snow and children walking with their dog though Old Man Witherby's nicely manicured snow lawn in fictional New England/Wisconsin/Minnesota. Those are nice. Grandma Moses meets Thomas Kinkade and they all have hot chocolate and sing carols. Seasonal!
But here I am pawing through the offerings in my local Target getting in the way of young mother's and excited kids and I can't find anything with a rural Texas barn sans snow on it. What I am thinking is, sure! This Christmasy gobbedly gook is all well and fine for a major American retailer but not fine enough for a tiny Texas town in the 80's??? I'll show you! Grinch! Scrooge! Bah! Humbug! grrr ahhh!!! I might have been foaming at the mouth. There might have been some ripping and such. Some say a nice ornament display got knocked over. There are some kids that might have been alarmed and a baby might have cried.
In the end I was on my knees in front of a plastic manger with the remains of Christmas cards and wrapping paper everywhere. Some poor lady was comforting her baby. Her husband was helping me up. He was wearing a hoodie. I thanked him, backed awkwardly into a plastic camel, and gave him the package of mints I had meant to buy. He told me the checkout counter was a mad house. No room at the registers. Then the scene cleared and I woke up.
I didn't buy any cards last year. Post Traumatic Seasonal Adolescence Memory Disorder. Maybe I'll try again next year. Online. You can't shoot your eye out online can you?
Don't get me wrong. I mean to send out Christmas cards. I painstakingly arrange address lists. I check them once. I check them twice. I decide which people I know are naughty or nice. Because, you know, Santa Claus. He's coming to town. I even buy stamps. That's usually as far as I get.
The next step involves buying cards, addressing envelopes, licking them and sending them. Let's ignore the fact that America was made aware of the dangers of licking too many envelopes by the good folks at Seinfeld a few years back. I mean that's bad enough. Instead let's focus on buying cards.
Once upon a time in my Texas high school art class the teacher informed us that we the students, would be designing the school district's Christmas card for the year. It had to be indicative of rural Texas. It had to be religiously and culturally benign (since Christmas is all about religious and cultural benignedness....), and it had to showcase the talent of the students in the district. Fair enough.
I set about drawing up a nice card with candles on it. Nice candles. Pretty candles. The kind of candles Yankee Candle later made into a thriving business. I worked hard.
A week later the entries were all in and the administration had flat out denied all offerings. The teacher was incensed. Christmas potpourri incensed! I distinctly remember her sitting on her desk and going through each card and berating us for not stepping it up. Most of the cards earned a nope. No. Not even! They didn't even look at this one! Nada. My card earned a "they considered this one but discarded it as not enough what they were looking for". They being the grinches on the board.
Eventually my art teacher got one of the senior students to come up with a nice bucolic rural Texas scene of a dilapidated barn. It wasn't even covered in snow. Merry Christmas. Err Happy Holidays. Joyous whatever.
As a result of this "trauma" I have a hard time picking out Christmas cards. Do I get the beautiful ones with the Star of Bethlehem shining down on poor Mary sitting on a camel? How about that nice one with the Chistmas Tree all lit up and covered in bugles? I like the pastoral scenes of sleds dashing through the snow and children walking with their dog though Old Man Witherby's nicely manicured snow lawn in fictional New England/Wisconsin/Minnesota. Those are nice. Grandma Moses meets Thomas Kinkade and they all have hot chocolate and sing carols. Seasonal!
But here I am pawing through the offerings in my local Target getting in the way of young mother's and excited kids and I can't find anything with a rural Texas barn sans snow on it. What I am thinking is, sure! This Christmasy gobbedly gook is all well and fine for a major American retailer but not fine enough for a tiny Texas town in the 80's??? I'll show you! Grinch! Scrooge! Bah! Humbug! grrr ahhh!!! I might have been foaming at the mouth. There might have been some ripping and such. Some say a nice ornament display got knocked over. There are some kids that might have been alarmed and a baby might have cried.
In the end I was on my knees in front of a plastic manger with the remains of Christmas cards and wrapping paper everywhere. Some poor lady was comforting her baby. Her husband was helping me up. He was wearing a hoodie. I thanked him, backed awkwardly into a plastic camel, and gave him the package of mints I had meant to buy. He told me the checkout counter was a mad house. No room at the registers. Then the scene cleared and I woke up.
I didn't buy any cards last year. Post Traumatic Seasonal Adolescence Memory Disorder. Maybe I'll try again next year. Online. You can't shoot your eye out online can you?
Tuesday, July 14, 2015
My Hovercraft is Full of Eels
Recently the Welsh government was asked some serious questions about UFOs and what they intended to do about them and they answered as brilliantly as anyone could possibly imagine: in Klingon.
http://www.newsweek.com/welsh-government-replies-klingon-serious-ufo-questions-353619
There are several things that spring to mind from this exchange:
1. I wasn't aware that there were serious UFO questions. I mean I hold out the possibility of there being such questions, but until they start getting asked seriously by serious people that practice serious personal hygiene and have serious jobs it's hard to fall in line behind the idea. Seriously.
2. I wasn't aware that there were any members of the Welsh government that knew Klingon. It is an astounding thing. Then you begin looking into the Welsh language and you realize maybe this isn't such a stretch after all. Klingon must be easy to learn in comparison. The Welsh probably wake up every day thinking, "I know Welsh! Nothing worse could possibly happen to me for the rest of the day!" eich bod yn croesawu! (Welsh for you're welcome!).
3. The Welsh have an excellent sense of humor. Who knew? Not Edward I, but then he was busy conquering them.
http://www.newsweek.com/welsh-government-replies-klingon-serious-ufo-questions-353619
There are several things that spring to mind from this exchange:
1. I wasn't aware that there were serious UFO questions. I mean I hold out the possibility of there being such questions, but until they start getting asked seriously by serious people that practice serious personal hygiene and have serious jobs it's hard to fall in line behind the idea. Seriously.
2. I wasn't aware that there were any members of the Welsh government that knew Klingon. It is an astounding thing. Then you begin looking into the Welsh language and you realize maybe this isn't such a stretch after all. Klingon must be easy to learn in comparison. The Welsh probably wake up every day thinking, "I know Welsh! Nothing worse could possibly happen to me for the rest of the day!" eich bod yn croesawu! (Welsh for you're welcome!).
3. The Welsh have an excellent sense of humor. Who knew? Not Edward I, but then he was busy conquering them.
4. Klingons do NOT have an excellent sense of humor as all trekkies know. quay'be' (Klingon for you're welcome!).
Now I personally do not know Klingon. Or Welsh. I have not translated either of these two excellent devices of torture into a helpful phrase such as "My Hovercraft is Full of Eels." (Monty Python started it. Don't blame me!). What I know is I can look it up on the internet, which is arguably more handy. Unless you're in Wales. Or a Star Trek convention. Although come to think of it, having the ability to look things up on the internet at such venues is still arguably more handy than knowing either Welsh or Klingon.
I digress, however. The main thing I wish to point out is that this is the first time an official government correspondence has been made in Wales, in Klingon. Frankly I would think that it is the first time an official government correspondence has been made in Klingon anywhere on the planet. This planet.
It gives me hope. I expect next we will be hearing a government official somewhere respond to a line of questioning in Cardassian. The Kardashians don't count. They're Klingons.
Friday, July 10, 2015
Gardening at Night
I am considering using reverse psychology on my lawn. It works on kids. I bet it works on grass too. The thing is my grass, much like my kids, won't do what it is supposed to do -like grow lush and green in the lawn. Witness the brown spots, the yellow wilted places, the vast swaths given over to dandelions and clover. But boy oh boy howdy! will it sprout enthusiastically anywhere I don't need grass! Like the flowerbed, or the window well, or the driveway covered completely in three inch concrete.
I walk out of my house and am greeted with the prospect of mowing my driveway. I go to weed the flowerbeds and find foot high grass happily choking out the alyssum. I don't know whether to weed whack, trim, or run about dropping fertilizer and exclaiming in a cheery plaid shirted bearded Scottish accent "Fedd yor lawn! FEDD IT!"
So, to that end I am considering torching the lawn and installing concrete. For the driveway I will mow and mulch and lovingly apply lawn feed. I figure within a few months the grass won't know where it is supposed to grow. There will be a time of great instability. For seven watering cycles famine will reign in Egypt and all that groweth green and leafy will weep and wail and perish under the wrath of a displeased God! (Smite yor lawn! SMITE IT! Muahahahahahah) Then lo! There will be a space of stillness in the yard. And it shall come to pass that they who were once green and haughty and did refuse to grow in the lush land which I did give unto them shall bow down and be humbled, and I will have mercy on them and allow them to find rest and pasture in the new land which I have prepared, yea even a land of milk and nitrogen, yea even a land of promise -as in if you do not grow green and leafy here I promise I will destroy you!
If that doesn't work then I got nothing. The wreck of my pathetic yard will be the cautionary tale of the neighborhood. It will become a hiss and a byword. People will shuffle by it silently on their morning jog averting their eyes. They will cross the street when they walk by with their children. Look honey! That's where Mr. Dobson destroyed his lawn! We don't want to be like Mr. Dobson do we? No Mommy we don't!
I might try gardening at night where no one can see me. As long as no one thinks I am burying bodies or something. Awkward. How hard is it to dig through concrete anyway?
I walk out of my house and am greeted with the prospect of mowing my driveway. I go to weed the flowerbeds and find foot high grass happily choking out the alyssum. I don't know whether to weed whack, trim, or run about dropping fertilizer and exclaiming in a cheery plaid shirted bearded Scottish accent "Fedd yor lawn! FEDD IT!"
So, to that end I am considering torching the lawn and installing concrete. For the driveway I will mow and mulch and lovingly apply lawn feed. I figure within a few months the grass won't know where it is supposed to grow. There will be a time of great instability. For seven watering cycles famine will reign in Egypt and all that groweth green and leafy will weep and wail and perish under the wrath of a displeased God! (Smite yor lawn! SMITE IT! Muahahahahahah) Then lo! There will be a space of stillness in the yard. And it shall come to pass that they who were once green and haughty and did refuse to grow in the lush land which I did give unto them shall bow down and be humbled, and I will have mercy on them and allow them to find rest and pasture in the new land which I have prepared, yea even a land of milk and nitrogen, yea even a land of promise -as in if you do not grow green and leafy here I promise I will destroy you!
If that doesn't work then I got nothing. The wreck of my pathetic yard will be the cautionary tale of the neighborhood. It will become a hiss and a byword. People will shuffle by it silently on their morning jog averting their eyes. They will cross the street when they walk by with their children. Look honey! That's where Mr. Dobson destroyed his lawn! We don't want to be like Mr. Dobson do we? No Mommy we don't!
I might try gardening at night where no one can see me. As long as no one thinks I am burying bodies or something. Awkward. How hard is it to dig through concrete anyway?
Thursday, July 9, 2015
Cosplay Just Got Real
Sometimes I need to be reminded of things. Things like I left the water on, or its time to take my meds. The older I get the more I need reminders, so I am happy that there are articles like this one reminding me that vampires are people too:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/news/to-your-health/wp/2015/07/09/researchers-vampires-are-people-too-and-deserve-acceptance-by-medical-professionals/
Not only are vampires people too but they are in need of as much psychotherapy as the rest of us, which one might not realize about people that actually think they are vampires, but it's true! Because living exclusively at night and flying around as a bat drives one well, batty.
Look I get the tongue in cheek tone of the article. What alarms me, however, is the ever so slight indication permeating the piece that suggests these people CAN change reality and should be recognized as exactly what their imaginations are pretending to be. Otherkins. Furries. Handicapped. Men. Women. Sponge Bob. Captain America. You name it you can put on a costume and not only pretend to be it, but demand that everyone else pretend as well. If you pretend well enough you begin to get things like REAL rights, to the extent that people that don't want to play your pretend game can get in trouble for their rudeness. Regardless of your chromosomes or your lack of gills.
I don't think there has ever been a shortage of people that disliked reality. It can be harsh. It can be deadly. It can be just plain awful. It used to be miserable folks simply shuffled into a church, took drugs, or got sloshed to escape their situation for awhile. If they could they attempted to make their reality better. In actuality. Using the skills and abilities they had at hand. We have come a long way from that, however. Now you can simply cosplay away from your actual reality until your pretend reality becomes your new reality. No religion, mind altering substances or assembly required. Society has decided to stop relegating you to the psych ward and accommodate you. Which is good because I was getting really upset with my situation. I have some changes to my reality that need to go into effect.
First off I am no longer diabetic. I expect my doctor's bills and insurance rates to reflect this change. Second I am no longer agoraphobic. I can walk around willy nilly now without becoming overwhelmed. So let it be written. So let it be done.
Other than that
http://www.washingtonpost.com/news/to-your-health/wp/2015/07/09/researchers-vampires-are-people-too-and-deserve-acceptance-by-medical-professionals/
Not only are vampires people too but they are in need of as much psychotherapy as the rest of us, which one might not realize about people that actually think they are vampires, but it's true! Because living exclusively at night and flying around as a bat drives one well, batty.
Look I get the tongue in cheek tone of the article. What alarms me, however, is the ever so slight indication permeating the piece that suggests these people CAN change reality and should be recognized as exactly what their imaginations are pretending to be. Otherkins. Furries. Handicapped. Men. Women. Sponge Bob. Captain America. You name it you can put on a costume and not only pretend to be it, but demand that everyone else pretend as well. If you pretend well enough you begin to get things like REAL rights, to the extent that people that don't want to play your pretend game can get in trouble for their rudeness. Regardless of your chromosomes or your lack of gills.
I don't think there has ever been a shortage of people that disliked reality. It can be harsh. It can be deadly. It can be just plain awful. It used to be miserable folks simply shuffled into a church, took drugs, or got sloshed to escape their situation for awhile. If they could they attempted to make their reality better. In actuality. Using the skills and abilities they had at hand. We have come a long way from that, however. Now you can simply cosplay away from your actual reality until your pretend reality becomes your new reality. No religion, mind altering substances or assembly required. Society has decided to stop relegating you to the psych ward and accommodate you. Which is good because I was getting really upset with my situation. I have some changes to my reality that need to go into effect.
First off I am no longer diabetic. I expect my doctor's bills and insurance rates to reflect this change. Second I am no longer agoraphobic. I can walk around willy nilly now without becoming overwhelmed. So let it be written. So let it be done.
Other than that
I hereby choose to identify as a disabled mixed ethnicity Native American/African American Islamic female veteran that was raised by aliens and given special powers of righteous grooviness. My disco moves solve world hunger. I have an intelligent lemur as a sidekick.
I will be applying to Ivy League Schools and expect to get full ride scholarships to all of them. When I graduate I expect to get any job I apply for in the private or public sector. If I do not I will be suing for discrimination and harrasement.
I realize that there are many haters that might find this burdensome, costly and ridiculous but this is reality now. Deal with it. Check your privilege! Thank you.
Please remember I am just a person too you know! I need just as much psychotherapy as everyone else! If people could be less ignorant of my particular needs and reality that's all I ask! Why won't people love me??!!
I will be applying to Ivy League Schools and expect to get full ride scholarships to all of them. When I graduate I expect to get any job I apply for in the private or public sector. If I do not I will be suing for discrimination and harrasement.
I also expect adequate media coverage to talk about me me me, and I expect many awards and accolades for my courageous and brave distortions of reality. My own Marvel movie trilogy would be a nice touch but is not absolutely necessary.
I will be writing a book to explain how you may best serve me without being offensive to me or my lemur and I will need to run for and win a public office which I will not have to work at in order to meet my financial and medical needs.
Also all you Europeans get off my Native Lands! In addition you all owe me reparations. Congress should begin work crafting legislation on a national lemur rights bill as well. Let's bring disco back too.
Don't make me identify as 7 feet tall and an NBA All Star with X ray vision! Don't think I won't!
I will be writing a book to explain how you may best serve me without being offensive to me or my lemur and I will need to run for and win a public office which I will not have to work at in order to meet my financial and medical needs.
Also all you Europeans get off my Native Lands! In addition you all owe me reparations. Congress should begin work crafting legislation on a national lemur rights bill as well. Let's bring disco back too.
Don't make me identify as 7 feet tall and an NBA All Star with X ray vision! Don't think I won't!
I realize that there are many haters that might find this burdensome, costly and ridiculous but this is reality now. Deal with it. Check your privilege! Thank you.
Please remember I am just a person too you know! I need just as much psychotherapy as everyone else! If people could be less ignorant of my particular needs and reality that's all I ask! Why won't people love me??!!
Friday, July 3, 2015
Robotic Patch Adams
My blood glucose monitor and I are now on speaking terms -and by speaking I mean it actually speaks to me. In a pleasant female voice reminiscent of Siri. I mean how cool is that? Merica!
There is a problem though, or rather a quirk. A quirk which I find quite amusing and which helps distract me from the fact that my monitor is indeed a blood sucking Klingon killer (It was in a previous post. http://theagoraphobicdiabetic.blogspot.com/2015/06/blood-sucking-vampire-tech-with-fangs.html I stand by my analysis.).
Anyway my blood glucose monitor has a lisp. That's right. A lisp.
I turn the thing on, it goes through its little power up cycle and then it says, "Pwease insert the test stwip." I kid you not. That is what I hear. Suddenly I am transported back to countless viewings of The Princess Bride and I am chuckling as I stick myself and coaxe blood from my finger. "Have you the Bwud? Your bwud gwucose is one hundwed and seventy one miwwigwams per decawiter! Goodbye!" I put a Band-Aid on and clean up the sharps smiling.
Now THAT is good healthcare. I imagine a day when all of our healthcare is provided by friendly robots along the lines of Baymax from Big Hero 6 and good or bad we will be able to program them to speak in any voice we choose.
Imagine getting your healthcare by a robot that sounds like a pirate: "Yar! Ye be givin me yer finger and lettin me poke it or it be the plank for ye matey! Yar! Ye be havin a blood glucose level of 156 landlubber! No rum for ye!"
Or John Wayne: "Cowboy up Pilgrim! Why I've lost more blood spittin on a fire than what's comin from yer finger! Now says here you got a blood glucose level of 175. I reckon you get yerself straight, saddle up and ride sugar free from here on out. Pilgrim!"
Or how about the Enterprise crew:
"This...blood...it's ready to be...tested. Bones! Let's test this man's...blood."
"145 Jim. Why he's a regular Vulcan! Fit as a fiddle and didn't budge an inch as I poked him!"
"Although I cannot argue with your analysis I find your comparison to Vulcan physiology disturbing Doctor. You are dismissed Yeoman Dobson."
Yessir the future is bright. Wiv Wong and Pwosper!
There is a problem though, or rather a quirk. A quirk which I find quite amusing and which helps distract me from the fact that my monitor is indeed a blood sucking Klingon killer (It was in a previous post. http://theagoraphobicdiabetic.blogspot.com/2015/06/blood-sucking-vampire-tech-with-fangs.html I stand by my analysis.).
Anyway my blood glucose monitor has a lisp. That's right. A lisp.
I turn the thing on, it goes through its little power up cycle and then it says, "Pwease insert the test stwip." I kid you not. That is what I hear. Suddenly I am transported back to countless viewings of The Princess Bride and I am chuckling as I stick myself and coaxe blood from my finger. "Have you the Bwud? Your bwud gwucose is one hundwed and seventy one miwwigwams per decawiter! Goodbye!" I put a Band-Aid on and clean up the sharps smiling.
Now THAT is good healthcare. I imagine a day when all of our healthcare is provided by friendly robots along the lines of Baymax from Big Hero 6 and good or bad we will be able to program them to speak in any voice we choose.
Imagine getting your healthcare by a robot that sounds like a pirate: "Yar! Ye be givin me yer finger and lettin me poke it or it be the plank for ye matey! Yar! Ye be havin a blood glucose level of 156 landlubber! No rum for ye!"
Or John Wayne: "Cowboy up Pilgrim! Why I've lost more blood spittin on a fire than what's comin from yer finger! Now says here you got a blood glucose level of 175. I reckon you get yerself straight, saddle up and ride sugar free from here on out. Pilgrim!"
Or how about the Enterprise crew:
"This...blood...it's ready to be...tested. Bones! Let's test this man's...blood."
"145 Jim. Why he's a regular Vulcan! Fit as a fiddle and didn't budge an inch as I poked him!"
"Although I cannot argue with your analysis I find your comparison to Vulcan physiology disturbing Doctor. You are dismissed Yeoman Dobson."
Yessir the future is bright. Wiv Wong and Pwosper!
Monday, June 29, 2015
Holistically Speaking
There sure is a lot going on in the world lately. Everyone has an opinion on all sorts of stuff and they state it loud, and proud, and bold. I think normally I would join them, but here is the thing: I'm sick. I don't feel well. I am having a hard time adjusting to a new lifestyle and my body is fighting me. The diet, the medicine, the blood testing, the doctors, the tests, the doctors, the tests, the tests, and then I get a bill...it wears me down.
Diabetes isn't the worst disease I could have, but it's certainly enough of a challenge for me. I am grateful for the opportunity though. SO grateful. If nothing else it has kept me focused on what is important to me.
While the good and the bad have swirled all around me in an explosion of national emotion and sensationalism I have felt isolated in a hushed calm. While the whole world has gone crazy with joy or outrage my baby has been learning to crawl. My daughters practice cartwheels and draw. My sons grow and sing as they go. My wife gets her hair done and it makes her smile. That's my rainbow. That's my flag. That's my Constitution.
Maybe the world is ending. Maybe the world is on the edge of a better tomorrow. Most likely the world is simply lost in a profound bout of melodrama. I don't really know. I'm dealing with needles and nausea. My family makes me feel better. That's what I know.
We think life is subject to the issues we grapple with but life has always been sweeter and deeper than the battles we fight. Those battles are drops of our sweat next to the enormous current that we drift in. If they move us, it is because they touch on what is alive for us. If they rattle us, it is because they echo the reality of what we feel that we are. They are still drops though. We should remember that. They barely make a ripple in the river.
It can't be helped you know. We all come. We all go. We all drift on borne up inexorably by the hours and the days. Life is greater than us. Life is nothing without us- the hilarious and yet splendid juxtaposition of our selves onto the universe at large.
Diabetes isn't the worst disease I could have, but it's certainly enough of a challenge for me. I am grateful for the opportunity though. SO grateful. If nothing else it has kept me focused on what is important to me.
While the good and the bad have swirled all around me in an explosion of national emotion and sensationalism I have felt isolated in a hushed calm. While the whole world has gone crazy with joy or outrage my baby has been learning to crawl. My daughters practice cartwheels and draw. My sons grow and sing as they go. My wife gets her hair done and it makes her smile. That's my rainbow. That's my flag. That's my Constitution.
Maybe the world is ending. Maybe the world is on the edge of a better tomorrow. Most likely the world is simply lost in a profound bout of melodrama. I don't really know. I'm dealing with needles and nausea. My family makes me feel better. That's what I know.
We think life is subject to the issues we grapple with but life has always been sweeter and deeper than the battles we fight. Those battles are drops of our sweat next to the enormous current that we drift in. If they move us, it is because they touch on what is alive for us. If they rattle us, it is because they echo the reality of what we feel that we are. They are still drops though. We should remember that. They barely make a ripple in the river.
It can't be helped you know. We all come. We all go. We all drift on borne up inexorably by the hours and the days. Life is greater than us. Life is nothing without us- the hilarious and yet splendid juxtaposition of our selves onto the universe at large.
Saturday, June 27, 2015
Dreamboat Gorilla
So maybe you're hairy. Maybe you don't bathe much. Maybe you like to hang out sans clothing in your enclosure. You're in luck because you can be a star kid! Cancel that eHarmony profile because it turns out women dig you! In Japan.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3139679/Meet-Shabani-handsome-gorilla-raised-Australia-fame-Japan-women-flock-zoo-just-him.html
Coming up first in the life-is-always-stranger-in-Japan category Shabani the Gorilla is turning heads and wooing hearts at the Higashiyama Zoo in Nagoya, Japan.
I can't make this stuff up, and honestly just look at the pictures of this dashing simian! Seriously he looks good. I have seen male models that don't look quite as good. Not that I look at a lot of male models. You flip through Glamour at the dentist office you get what you get. Stay on target Luke.
The point is this Gorilla is handsome. He really is, and as such it might explain why early Homo Sapiens interbred with Neanderthals.
http://news.yahoo.com/early-europeans-interbred-neanderthals-184120788.html
At first glance one might look at a Neanderthal and think no sir! No way! I am not going to prom with THAT! However, you get a load of Shabani the Gorilla and suddenly things are different. I mean what if there were Neanderthal dreamboats on a caliber with Shabani the Gorilla? Huh? Then what? Suddenly those weak Homo Sapien knees make sense. Suddenly being bonked over the head with a club and drug into a cave to cuddle in saber tooth skins seems plausible.
Look I'm not suggesting anyone should make like a Japanese tween and go all fangurl over a Silverback Gorilla, but I am saying if a Gorilla can look like this, maybe the whole "ugh! I would not mate with a caveman!" thing isn't as sensible as it seems. Not that you will ever have the opportunity to mate with a caveman. They all died out. Mostly. Sort of. Listen if you're ever in Sturgis and you see a Neanderthal or hey! even a Cro Magnon riding a Harley tell him there are a bunch of interested anthropologists looking for a date. In Japan. Hominid..Hominid!
Hi Arnold Dobson here for Sham Pow! Or Why I Hate the Socialism Story on Facebook
Have you seen this little story that has been making the rounds on social media for who knows how long? I don't know if it is true or not but it doesn't matter for my purposes in sharing it. Here, I'll link you right to the story on snopes so you can get the relatively unvarnished version:
http://www.snopes.com/college/exam/socialism.asp
Basically the story goes that a professor wants to teach his students about socialism so he says he will average the grade of everyone that takes the tests and that will be the grade everyone receives. If ten students take the test and the average is a B then everyone in the class will receive a B regardless of whether they took the test or not. The first test goes fine. The second test so-so. The third test not so much. The story ends with everyone getting lazy and no one taking the last tests because they are counting on someone else to take them and as a result everyone fails. That's supposed to be a good illustration of socialism.
Personally I don't know if it's a good illustration of socialism or not. I am not a political scientist. I am not a socialist. I have only a working academic notion of what constitutes socialism. I'm not even all that social. That's not why I am writing about this, however. The reason I am writing about this is because this story makes me angry. I'll tell you why: I am the student that would take all the tests and get As on them regardless of how many of my classmates showed up. Why you ask? Because regardless of what everyone else in the class is or isn't doing, my grade depends on what I am doing. If I have to carry the weight of the entire class in order to pass the stupid thing then I will jump through that hoop and pass it, regardless of whatever hair brained, self serving, foolish, social experiment the professor is running in order to prove a point- and when I am done and have ruined Herr Professors little "experiment" I will take my passing grade and good riddance. That's me. That's who I am. I won't have learned anything about socialism, because you know, I am there to pass a required college course so I can move on to have the free time to actually learn about things like socialism if I so choose, not risk it all on the foibles of my peers. In so doing however, I will have destroyed the "lesson" the professor was trying to teach at our expense.
And there it is. I am the exception. The ruiner of social theories. The destroyer of norms. The aberration in the curve. The reason it makes me angry is because every time some Bozo tries to make a point by subjecting people to who-knows-what foolishness I am always the nut that winds up sticking out from the crowd. I ruin the "experiment". I draw an unwarranted amount of attention to myself. I am Boo Radley thrust unexpectedly into the front yard in the light of day trying to explain to Scout and Atticus Finch and everyone else in town what in the world I am up to. I DO NOT like doing that. I really don't like the spotlight. I am agoraphobic remember? Yet I keep running into situations that make me stand out.
I don't mean to stand out. It continues to happen simply as a natural consequence of my personality. I call people out because I am sincere and literal and that never plays well in a con game. The problem is the world is full of con games. Or social experiments. Or teaching moments. Or life lessons. Or advertisements. Or whatever you want to call them. They all have one thing in common: they are designed to trick people. Out of their money. Into learning something. Into voting a certain way. Into performing some task. You name it, there is a con for it.
I walk through the world with my wife and kids and, despite not wanting to be there in the first place, I am the one that always gets accosted by the snake oil salesman. Probably because I smile a lot and resemble Opie. So when Captain Mysterious and his Guaranteed Dietetic Electrolyte Energy Inducer attempt to use me as an example of a person that is in need of their marvelous elixir, I fail. When the professor tries to teach the class a "lesson" I ruin the curve. Whenever the con goes down I have a knack for unwittingly disrupting it.
---Maybe they try to step on my foot and push me over to demonstrate my imbalance without their magic bracelet and I stand firm because well, I have no desire to fall over.
---Maybe they try to convince everyone that now is the time to buy an annuity by asking me what the London Interbank Offered Rate is to demonstrate how financially uninformed we all are and I happen to know the current answer.
---Maybe they try to convince the room that timeshares are an excellent investment by asking me what I would pay for a Hawaiian adventure and I happen to know what the going rate for a 4 star hotel room in Hawaii is and boy does that make the timeshare next door look bad.
---Maybe they try to sell the crowd on thousand dollar cookware by using me as a launch to explain anodized aluminum and I already know what anodized aluminum is and that Calphalon is "spun" and about 800 dollars cheaper.
---Maybe they try to cut down the numbers of the enormous class by telling stupid stories and doing things that make everyone want to drop the class and I raise my hand and say "Are you trying to get a bunch of us to drop your class?"
---Maybe they try and teach a bunch of students about socialism by using human nature to flunk them out of the class and I go ahead and take every test and get As and we all pass.
In short I ruin the gig. I am Billy Mays worst nightmare (rest his soul!). I am the ShamWow guys tough room. I am the clever professors Toto pulling his curtain aside. It ruins their con and what's worse is it draws attention to myself.
I do fight my agoraphobia, you know. I make myself get out in the world. I engage with people against my better judgment. I purposely stay out of the dark corner at Chik Fil A and sit at the well lit table by the playground. Time and again though it sets me up. I carry the class and destroy the con, usually out of pragmatism and my own quirky nature. So the social experiment story makes me angry. I am just terrible at playing along with cons and it winds up putting me in situations I dislike. Time and again.
Frankly my dark, quiet closet upstairs is comforting and safe. I prefer it. Though just between you and me my wife has a red coat hanging in there that wants me to try it on. Another con I'm sure.
Honey why are you wearing my red coat?
I don't know? Say this thing is pretty nice. Why don't you ever wear it?
Are you calling me fat?
Yep. I knew it.
http://www.snopes.com/college/exam/socialism.asp
Basically the story goes that a professor wants to teach his students about socialism so he says he will average the grade of everyone that takes the tests and that will be the grade everyone receives. If ten students take the test and the average is a B then everyone in the class will receive a B regardless of whether they took the test or not. The first test goes fine. The second test so-so. The third test not so much. The story ends with everyone getting lazy and no one taking the last tests because they are counting on someone else to take them and as a result everyone fails. That's supposed to be a good illustration of socialism.
Personally I don't know if it's a good illustration of socialism or not. I am not a political scientist. I am not a socialist. I have only a working academic notion of what constitutes socialism. I'm not even all that social. That's not why I am writing about this, however. The reason I am writing about this is because this story makes me angry. I'll tell you why: I am the student that would take all the tests and get As on them regardless of how many of my classmates showed up. Why you ask? Because regardless of what everyone else in the class is or isn't doing, my grade depends on what I am doing. If I have to carry the weight of the entire class in order to pass the stupid thing then I will jump through that hoop and pass it, regardless of whatever hair brained, self serving, foolish, social experiment the professor is running in order to prove a point- and when I am done and have ruined Herr Professors little "experiment" I will take my passing grade and good riddance. That's me. That's who I am. I won't have learned anything about socialism, because you know, I am there to pass a required college course so I can move on to have the free time to actually learn about things like socialism if I so choose, not risk it all on the foibles of my peers. In so doing however, I will have destroyed the "lesson" the professor was trying to teach at our expense.
And there it is. I am the exception. The ruiner of social theories. The destroyer of norms. The aberration in the curve. The reason it makes me angry is because every time some Bozo tries to make a point by subjecting people to who-knows-what foolishness I am always the nut that winds up sticking out from the crowd. I ruin the "experiment". I draw an unwarranted amount of attention to myself. I am Boo Radley thrust unexpectedly into the front yard in the light of day trying to explain to Scout and Atticus Finch and everyone else in town what in the world I am up to. I DO NOT like doing that. I really don't like the spotlight. I am agoraphobic remember? Yet I keep running into situations that make me stand out.
I don't mean to stand out. It continues to happen simply as a natural consequence of my personality. I call people out because I am sincere and literal and that never plays well in a con game. The problem is the world is full of con games. Or social experiments. Or teaching moments. Or life lessons. Or advertisements. Or whatever you want to call them. They all have one thing in common: they are designed to trick people. Out of their money. Into learning something. Into voting a certain way. Into performing some task. You name it, there is a con for it.
I walk through the world with my wife and kids and, despite not wanting to be there in the first place, I am the one that always gets accosted by the snake oil salesman. Probably because I smile a lot and resemble Opie. So when Captain Mysterious and his Guaranteed Dietetic Electrolyte Energy Inducer attempt to use me as an example of a person that is in need of their marvelous elixir, I fail. When the professor tries to teach the class a "lesson" I ruin the curve. Whenever the con goes down I have a knack for unwittingly disrupting it.
---Maybe they try to step on my foot and push me over to demonstrate my imbalance without their magic bracelet and I stand firm because well, I have no desire to fall over.
---Maybe they try to convince everyone that now is the time to buy an annuity by asking me what the London Interbank Offered Rate is to demonstrate how financially uninformed we all are and I happen to know the current answer.
---Maybe they try to convince the room that timeshares are an excellent investment by asking me what I would pay for a Hawaiian adventure and I happen to know what the going rate for a 4 star hotel room in Hawaii is and boy does that make the timeshare next door look bad.
---Maybe they try to sell the crowd on thousand dollar cookware by using me as a launch to explain anodized aluminum and I already know what anodized aluminum is and that Calphalon is "spun" and about 800 dollars cheaper.
---Maybe they try to cut down the numbers of the enormous class by telling stupid stories and doing things that make everyone want to drop the class and I raise my hand and say "Are you trying to get a bunch of us to drop your class?"
---Maybe they try and teach a bunch of students about socialism by using human nature to flunk them out of the class and I go ahead and take every test and get As and we all pass.
In short I ruin the gig. I am Billy Mays worst nightmare (rest his soul!). I am the ShamWow guys tough room. I am the clever professors Toto pulling his curtain aside. It ruins their con and what's worse is it draws attention to myself.
I do fight my agoraphobia, you know. I make myself get out in the world. I engage with people against my better judgment. I purposely stay out of the dark corner at Chik Fil A and sit at the well lit table by the playground. Time and again though it sets me up. I carry the class and destroy the con, usually out of pragmatism and my own quirky nature. So the social experiment story makes me angry. I am just terrible at playing along with cons and it winds up putting me in situations I dislike. Time and again.
Frankly my dark, quiet closet upstairs is comforting and safe. I prefer it. Though just between you and me my wife has a red coat hanging in there that wants me to try it on. Another con I'm sure.
Honey why are you wearing my red coat?
I don't know? Say this thing is pretty nice. Why don't you ever wear it?
Are you calling me fat?
Yep. I knew it.
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
Whistling Dixie as They Take You Away
If you can stomp on the American Flag even though that offends a great many people, then don't be upset when other folks can fly the Confederate Battle Flag even though that offends a great many people.
Whatever your take on this issue there remains a troubling question of liberty and free speech within a free society here. Although there is sense in removing painful symbols (real or perceived) from public forums, there is also a real danger that the wave of hysteria will begin to wash ashore on private ground.
We might have forgotten what liberty and free speech in a free society is all about. If we no longer have the right to offend each other then we are lost as a free nation. It is the freedom to offend that defines a free people, not the freedom to flatter. No one has ever died for pleasing a tyrant. No one has ever gone to prison for sucking up to the establishment. It is doing the opposite and remaining free that is the hallmark of a free land.
You can call Comrade Putin a fine fellow all you like and no one is going to come for you. No one will run you over with a car for that. Well at least until someone rises to power that doesn't like Comrade Putin much. Then you better change your tune and it might just be too late depending on how many of your neighbors remember how much you liked Comrade Putin. That's the reality of living in a NOT free society.
When the people take up an issue in the forum of public opinion that is one thing. When the government takes up an issue and starts talking legislation and executive orders -well that is another thing altogether and it gives me the jitters. Next thing you know a person can be prosecuted for saying or doing something others deem hateful. That's already here in the form of hate laws, and though it seems laudable now, it's only all well and fine until it begins to infringe on your own personal beliefs.Then it's too late isn't it? History is replete with examples of well intentioned laws that later caused a great deal of trouble. Wisdom is not a hallmark of governing bodies, or people in general for that matter.
We live in a free land. There isn't anybody out there that isn't doing something in their daily life that someone else doesn't find offensive. We have to let people be jerks within the law so that we can be a jerk within the law. That's a free society. Otherwise it's a dangerous road. A dangerous road indeed -and we're busy whistling Dixie as we trudge along it...
Whatever your take on this issue there remains a troubling question of liberty and free speech within a free society here. Although there is sense in removing painful symbols (real or perceived) from public forums, there is also a real danger that the wave of hysteria will begin to wash ashore on private ground.
We might have forgotten what liberty and free speech in a free society is all about. If we no longer have the right to offend each other then we are lost as a free nation. It is the freedom to offend that defines a free people, not the freedom to flatter. No one has ever died for pleasing a tyrant. No one has ever gone to prison for sucking up to the establishment. It is doing the opposite and remaining free that is the hallmark of a free land.
You can call Comrade Putin a fine fellow all you like and no one is going to come for you. No one will run you over with a car for that. Well at least until someone rises to power that doesn't like Comrade Putin much. Then you better change your tune and it might just be too late depending on how many of your neighbors remember how much you liked Comrade Putin. That's the reality of living in a NOT free society.
When the people take up an issue in the forum of public opinion that is one thing. When the government takes up an issue and starts talking legislation and executive orders -well that is another thing altogether and it gives me the jitters. Next thing you know a person can be prosecuted for saying or doing something others deem hateful. That's already here in the form of hate laws, and though it seems laudable now, it's only all well and fine until it begins to infringe on your own personal beliefs.Then it's too late isn't it? History is replete with examples of well intentioned laws that later caused a great deal of trouble. Wisdom is not a hallmark of governing bodies, or people in general for that matter.
We live in a free land. There isn't anybody out there that isn't doing something in their daily life that someone else doesn't find offensive. We have to let people be jerks within the law so that we can be a jerk within the law. That's a free society. Otherwise it's a dangerous road. A dangerous road indeed -and we're busy whistling Dixie as we trudge along it...
Monday, June 22, 2015
The Way the World Really Changes
You can't change the world when what you are trying to change it into is bad. People will just impede you. They may not yell at you. They may not fight you. They may even go along with you because they are tricked or because you force them to, but every single moment you let them alone- allow them to search their hearts- let them do what they will, they will oppose you.
If the way you are trying to change the world is good, however, the opposite occurs. People will secretly nod their head and agree in their heart with you. They will find surprising ways of helping you. You will be buoyed up by a wave of unlooked for support. It will come out of nowhere and give you aid when you least expect it.
If the way you are trying to change the world is good, however, the opposite occurs. People will secretly nod their head and agree in their heart with you. They will find surprising ways of helping you. You will be buoyed up by a wave of unlooked for support. It will come out of nowhere and give you aid when you least expect it.
People are not perfect and most of them are not loud or outspoken, but they know what is good and for the most part they choose good. They don't often have the chance to do anything outside their daily lives but within those billions of daily lives resides great power.
So don't despair when bad people seem like they are taking over the world. They aren't. Even the people that follow them eventually figure it out. As long as most people oppose them, they will fail. It may take time, but they always fail.
So don't despair when bad people seem like they are taking over the world. They aren't. Even the people that follow them eventually figure it out. As long as most people oppose them, they will fail. It may take time, but they always fail.
Saturday, June 20, 2015
NOT Einstein
Remember that kid in school that was so good at Math? His credentials were always coming up with the answer the fastest and turning in his Math test first. He always got As. I don't know about you, but in my case he wasn't alone. He had help destroying my mathematical self esteem. All his Math buddies traveled in a pack and took turns competing against each other to see who could answer the problems the fastest. Later they got into college and had competitions to see which of them could program a scientific calculator the fastest, or come up with the most efficient way to design a computer chip. That is all well and fine. I'm glad they were having fun.
Meanwhile the rest of us, me included, came to grips with the fact that since we weren't the fastest or the most efficient we weren't so good at Math. Oh sure I could solve any problem I was given, but I solved it in 600 seconds, not 6 seconds. As a result I felt average at Math. Passable. My instructors often pointed out I was in good company. You know, they would say, Einstein wasn't good at Math either. It made me feel better but they were lying. Einstein was actually VERY good at Math. I found this out later. So why didn't he do well in school? Something didn't add up (hehe).
I eventually discovered I was better at Math than I thought. My epiphany came in a college Math course. Up to that point the "smart" kids were the ones that did everything quickly and efficiently. One fine day, however, the professor put a proof on the board that supposedly showed that 2+2=5. It looked pretty good. The smart students were beside themselves. They pounded away on their calculators and loudly proclaimed it couldn't be true. The proof was staring them right in the face, however, and try as they might they couldn't figure it out. They repeatedly flew over the proof and found themselves stumped. Half an hour later none of them had figured it out. That's when I raised my hand. It had taken me 30 minutes, but I had meticulously gone over the proof and found the insidious little "error" the professor had snuck into the problem.
"You can't do that." I said.
"Do what?" he said.
I got up and pointed out the error. "This".
"Good job Arnie! You win Math class today!" he proclaimed.
I was stunned. All things being equal the fast students were stumped because they were interested in glossing over everything as quickly as possible. I figured it out because I took the time to not gloss over anything. For the first time I had the chance to shine because I had the time to shine. In the next few weeks that Math professor allowed me to beef up my Mathematical self esteem in a big way. I have always been grateful for that and I finally began to understand what the deal with Einstein was.
Do you know why we use computers? It isn't because they are smart. People endlessly point out that computers are actually stupid. They literally do ONLY what we tell them to do. However, they do it very quickly and very efficiently. That's their strong point. People on the other hand do things slowly and inefficiently. They sit around and think things up at a glacial pace. Things like computers. Imagine that.
Einstein wasn't good at doing Math quickly and efficiently either and as a result he did poorly in school and discarded things like algebra and went on to doing "thought experiments" in theoretical physics. He sat around and thought up things like Special Relativity. He had his fast, efficient friend do the algebra. I bet later at the University secure in his tenure and lauded as one of the world's most brilliant minds he could have shown his early instructors a thing or two about algebra.
The point being Speed Racer over here can spend ten minutes going over the Mach 5 thirty two times but still can't discover that Chim Chim and Spritle are hiding in the trunk. The Comcast turtles could spend an hour going over the Mach 5 once and Chim Chim and Spritle would be busted. Speed Racer is NOT Einstein. Don't ever think for a minute that just because you can't do something quickly and efficiently that you are bad at it. We need new things along the lines of computers and Special Relativity and those are not things that will be thought up quickly or efficiently- no matter how much our world celebrates and rewards speed and efficiency.
Take time to smell the roses campers, because who knows? You might crack the code on gravity or cure cancer. Or you know, diabetes. No sugar rush required.
Meanwhile the rest of us, me included, came to grips with the fact that since we weren't the fastest or the most efficient we weren't so good at Math. Oh sure I could solve any problem I was given, but I solved it in 600 seconds, not 6 seconds. As a result I felt average at Math. Passable. My instructors often pointed out I was in good company. You know, they would say, Einstein wasn't good at Math either. It made me feel better but they were lying. Einstein was actually VERY good at Math. I found this out later. So why didn't he do well in school? Something didn't add up (hehe).
I eventually discovered I was better at Math than I thought. My epiphany came in a college Math course. Up to that point the "smart" kids were the ones that did everything quickly and efficiently. One fine day, however, the professor put a proof on the board that supposedly showed that 2+2=5. It looked pretty good. The smart students were beside themselves. They pounded away on their calculators and loudly proclaimed it couldn't be true. The proof was staring them right in the face, however, and try as they might they couldn't figure it out. They repeatedly flew over the proof and found themselves stumped. Half an hour later none of them had figured it out. That's when I raised my hand. It had taken me 30 minutes, but I had meticulously gone over the proof and found the insidious little "error" the professor had snuck into the problem.
"You can't do that." I said.
"Do what?" he said.
I got up and pointed out the error. "This".
"Good job Arnie! You win Math class today!" he proclaimed.
I was stunned. All things being equal the fast students were stumped because they were interested in glossing over everything as quickly as possible. I figured it out because I took the time to not gloss over anything. For the first time I had the chance to shine because I had the time to shine. In the next few weeks that Math professor allowed me to beef up my Mathematical self esteem in a big way. I have always been grateful for that and I finally began to understand what the deal with Einstein was.
Do you know why we use computers? It isn't because they are smart. People endlessly point out that computers are actually stupid. They literally do ONLY what we tell them to do. However, they do it very quickly and very efficiently. That's their strong point. People on the other hand do things slowly and inefficiently. They sit around and think things up at a glacial pace. Things like computers. Imagine that.
Einstein wasn't good at doing Math quickly and efficiently either and as a result he did poorly in school and discarded things like algebra and went on to doing "thought experiments" in theoretical physics. He sat around and thought up things like Special Relativity. He had his fast, efficient friend do the algebra. I bet later at the University secure in his tenure and lauded as one of the world's most brilliant minds he could have shown his early instructors a thing or two about algebra.
The point being Speed Racer over here can spend ten minutes going over the Mach 5 thirty two times but still can't discover that Chim Chim and Spritle are hiding in the trunk. The Comcast turtles could spend an hour going over the Mach 5 once and Chim Chim and Spritle would be busted. Speed Racer is NOT Einstein. Don't ever think for a minute that just because you can't do something quickly and efficiently that you are bad at it. We need new things along the lines of computers and Special Relativity and those are not things that will be thought up quickly or efficiently- no matter how much our world celebrates and rewards speed and efficiency.
Take time to smell the roses campers, because who knows? You might crack the code on gravity or cure cancer. Or you know, diabetes. No sugar rush required.
Thursday, June 18, 2015
Black Holes Are Warm and Fuzzy
They are ramping up my Metformin, Metformin being a diabetes medicine that does two things: 1. It compels your intestines to stop absorbing so much sugar and 2. Compels your body to produce and use insulin more efficiently. This is relevant because this week in science physicists have declared that the "surface" of a black hole may be warm and fuzzy, not unlike the lower intestines. Have I lost you yet? I hope not, because science is fun! Let's talk about physics: it's a force to be reckoned with! *nerd snort* *giggle*
Apparently, unknown to most of us, there has been a debate raging in the theoretical physics world -and by raging I mean pen shaking and strongly worded emails. There might have been a few scientific calculators thrown around but nobody is talking so the charges were dropped. In any case two camps have formed. I will try to condense the information into as small a space as possible -much like a black hole might do:
Without getting technical or mathematical (because let's face it we don't want that. Remember imaginary numbers in math? Yeah well, theoretical physics is imaginary numbers gone ludicrous speed. It is math gone plaid. You'd rather be sucked into a black hole.), the debate can be simplified as such:
1. There is a camp that believes perfection IS necessary and therefore their math says anything that touches a black hole is instantly annihilated in fiery destruction. Annihilation and destruction both being necessary to describe the utter nihilism of what occurs. The black hole does not have a surface so much as a "firewall". Pleasant.
2. There is a camp that believes perfection IS NOT necessary and therefore their math says the black hole actually has a surface. What's more is this surface is warm and fuzzy and translates anything that touches it into a glorious hologram copy.
Now I don't know about you but I have a soft spot for camp number two, because warm, fuzzy, and holograms. Plus no perfection is required! I bet they have cookies. Even sugar free cookies for all us diabetics. On our own Swarovski crystal plate. That's how cool camp 2 is.
The perfection thing these folks are debating is a little thing called complementarity and the way it applies here is that it says a perfect hologram cannot be formed on the surface of a black hole. Camp 1 insists that if there can be no perfect hologram then there must be fiery death. Camp 2 says mathematically modified complementarity can allow it.
The interesting thing is that both camps got their math correct, which means the math allows both views. See? Ludicrous speed. It also means that my intestines, being warm and fuzzy, may have more in common with a black hole than one might first imagine. That's right, our guts are all black holes and science has proven it mathematically.
I tried to explain this to my wife and she just tilted her head and said "Are you calling me fat?"
"No honey! It's a complementarity!"
Read an article about the whole thing here:
http://phys.org/news/2015-06-surface-black-hole-firewalland-nature.html
Apparently, unknown to most of us, there has been a debate raging in the theoretical physics world -and by raging I mean pen shaking and strongly worded emails. There might have been a few scientific calculators thrown around but nobody is talking so the charges were dropped. In any case two camps have formed. I will try to condense the information into as small a space as possible -much like a black hole might do:
Without getting technical or mathematical (because let's face it we don't want that. Remember imaginary numbers in math? Yeah well, theoretical physics is imaginary numbers gone ludicrous speed. It is math gone plaid. You'd rather be sucked into a black hole.), the debate can be simplified as such:
1. There is a camp that believes perfection IS necessary and therefore their math says anything that touches a black hole is instantly annihilated in fiery destruction. Annihilation and destruction both being necessary to describe the utter nihilism of what occurs. The black hole does not have a surface so much as a "firewall". Pleasant.
2. There is a camp that believes perfection IS NOT necessary and therefore their math says the black hole actually has a surface. What's more is this surface is warm and fuzzy and translates anything that touches it into a glorious hologram copy.
Now I don't know about you but I have a soft spot for camp number two, because warm, fuzzy, and holograms. Plus no perfection is required! I bet they have cookies. Even sugar free cookies for all us diabetics. On our own Swarovski crystal plate. That's how cool camp 2 is.
The perfection thing these folks are debating is a little thing called complementarity and the way it applies here is that it says a perfect hologram cannot be formed on the surface of a black hole. Camp 1 insists that if there can be no perfect hologram then there must be fiery death. Camp 2 says mathematically modified complementarity can allow it.
The interesting thing is that both camps got their math correct, which means the math allows both views. See? Ludicrous speed. It also means that my intestines, being warm and fuzzy, may have more in common with a black hole than one might first imagine. That's right, our guts are all black holes and science has proven it mathematically.
I tried to explain this to my wife and she just tilted her head and said "Are you calling me fat?"
"No honey! It's a complementarity!"
Read an article about the whole thing here:
http://phys.org/news/2015-06-surface-black-hole-firewalland-nature.html
Tuesday, June 16, 2015
Blood Sucking Vampire Tech with Fangs
I got a new blood glucose monitor yesterday. If you are unaware of what a blood glucose monitor is, allow me to introduce you. Picture a pager that bites you and draws blood. You are then supposed to lovingly feed your blood to it after which it will tell you your blood sugar is too high and you need to lay off the M&Ms. It's a charming device all the way around, if you are into blood sucking vampire tech with fangs.
Personally I see it as a violation of my self. Not only does it hurt me, it analyzes me. It's like a robot that pulls up to me in a car, rolls down the window, and says "Hey kid, you want me to take your candy away? Ya fatty! Hahahaha!" My wife tried to encourage me to use it today and I spent an hour in the closet hugging my knees muttering "Stranger danger! Stranger danger!"
I understand the need to monitor my blood sugar levels. In a Star Trek sort of way, like where Bones puts a groovy 60s thingamabob to your arm and a soft pleasant whoosh noise happens and cures everything. Then I get a lollipop from Yeoman Rand. That's what I understand. This device is not that. This device is a tricorder from Hell. I can see a horde of them swarming Klingons, biting them and chirping "Your pepto bismal blood registers a blood glucose level of 175 you candy eating alien misfit!" That's what this device is all about.
It is currently sitting on the counter in my bathroom in a blood red lunch bag with a cheerful diabetes logo on it. I can feel it watching me, waiting to bite me and suck my blood. I suppose I will go use it after lunch. Maybe. Probably. Most likely. Maybe after dinner.
Personally I see it as a violation of my self. Not only does it hurt me, it analyzes me. It's like a robot that pulls up to me in a car, rolls down the window, and says "Hey kid, you want me to take your candy away? Ya fatty! Hahahaha!" My wife tried to encourage me to use it today and I spent an hour in the closet hugging my knees muttering "Stranger danger! Stranger danger!"
I understand the need to monitor my blood sugar levels. In a Star Trek sort of way, like where Bones puts a groovy 60s thingamabob to your arm and a soft pleasant whoosh noise happens and cures everything. Then I get a lollipop from Yeoman Rand. That's what I understand. This device is not that. This device is a tricorder from Hell. I can see a horde of them swarming Klingons, biting them and chirping "Your pepto bismal blood registers a blood glucose level of 175 you candy eating alien misfit!" That's what this device is all about.
It is currently sitting on the counter in my bathroom in a blood red lunch bag with a cheerful diabetes logo on it. I can feel it watching me, waiting to bite me and suck my blood. I suppose I will go use it after lunch. Maybe. Probably. Most likely. Maybe after dinner.
Monday, June 15, 2015
How do you say Ashley Madison in German?
So I was hanging out on the internets the other day selling watches. (I know a guy. He'll hook you up) and I came across this:
American Travelers Are the Worst in the World
http://www.marketwatch.com/story/american-travelers-are-the-worst-behaved-in-the-world-2015-06-14
I know I can't hyperlink yet. I'm a luddite. I'm working on it. Focus people. Focus!
According to this article here are the traveling sins that Americans excel at:
1. Skipping out on a bill
2. Taking extra hotel toiletries home
3. Peeing in the pool or ocean
4. Calling in sick to work to extend vacation
American Travelers Are the Worst in the World
http://www.marketwatch.com/story/american-travelers-are-the-worst-behaved-in-the-world-2015-06-14
I know I can't hyperlink yet. I'm a luddite. I'm working on it. Focus people. Focus!
According to this article here are the traveling sins that Americans excel at:
1. Skipping out on a bill
2. Taking extra hotel toiletries home
3. Peeing in the pool or ocean
4. Calling in sick to work to extend vacation
5. Planning a vacation during work
6. Sneaking goodies through customs
Here are the traveling sins that Germans excel at:
7. Cheating on your partner
It really makes you wonder. For instance I have NEVER and I mean NEVER seen anyone, American or not, SKIP out on a bill. Walk out sure. Sneak out yep. Run like hell until you are out, absolutely. Skip out though? No. I have never seen that. I would like to see that. I may have to try it myself for research purposes.
"Sir, please! Sir! You forgot to pay your bill!"
"Shut up sparky! I'm trying to skip! And no tip for you!"
As for the rest of these traveling sins I did not even realize some of them were sins. I mean hotel toiletries are little. They are adorable. They are practically screaming at you to adopt them into your private home spa. If hotels don't want me to take them then they should chain them down. With gold chains. That way I can use the adorable little clippers to snip the adorable little gold chains taking those to my adorable little home leaving the adorable little toiletries. Everybody wins. It's an adorable little idea.
Peeing in the pool or ocean is a circumstance dependent thing I believe. I get the pool. That makes sense, but the ocean? I don't know about you but if I am in the ocean and I see a shark I'm going to pee my pants. Guilty. I peed in the ocean and that shark swam away. I don't think I need to point out that the shark pees in the ocean. In fact everything pees in the ocean. Peeing is one of those things that the ocean suffers on a daily basis. If it didn't want to be peed on then it shouldn't have spawned life. I learned this wisdom after my first child.
The rest of these things are barely even worth mentioning. Planning a vacation at work? Calling in sick to extend a vacation? Sneaking goodies through customs? Who doesn't do that? It's like High School. I'm sorry if the rest of the world didn't learn to cut class and smuggle gum into school like American kids did. Well ok the past generations. Now it's cut other students and smuggle drugs, but hey it's all Hard Core now, or Common Core- whatever they're calling it today. Call your Senator.
The point is Americans were bested on one category: cheating on your spouse. The Germans won that. Americans are so bad at cheating on their spouse as a travel related sin that I, as an American, was not even aware that it was a travel related no-no. Lufthansa. I had no idea. You cheeky Germans! I don't know what they say in Germany but I do know coffee, tea, oder mich does NOT rhyme. Und dis ist how vee say gutbye in Germany Dr. Jones! *smack* Yeah. That's probably about right.
6. Sneaking goodies through customs
Here are the traveling sins that Germans excel at:
7. Cheating on your partner
It really makes you wonder. For instance I have NEVER and I mean NEVER seen anyone, American or not, SKIP out on a bill. Walk out sure. Sneak out yep. Run like hell until you are out, absolutely. Skip out though? No. I have never seen that. I would like to see that. I may have to try it myself for research purposes.
"Sir, please! Sir! You forgot to pay your bill!"
"Shut up sparky! I'm trying to skip! And no tip for you!"
As for the rest of these traveling sins I did not even realize some of them were sins. I mean hotel toiletries are little. They are adorable. They are practically screaming at you to adopt them into your private home spa. If hotels don't want me to take them then they should chain them down. With gold chains. That way I can use the adorable little clippers to snip the adorable little gold chains taking those to my adorable little home leaving the adorable little toiletries. Everybody wins. It's an adorable little idea.
Peeing in the pool or ocean is a circumstance dependent thing I believe. I get the pool. That makes sense, but the ocean? I don't know about you but if I am in the ocean and I see a shark I'm going to pee my pants. Guilty. I peed in the ocean and that shark swam away. I don't think I need to point out that the shark pees in the ocean. In fact everything pees in the ocean. Peeing is one of those things that the ocean suffers on a daily basis. If it didn't want to be peed on then it shouldn't have spawned life. I learned this wisdom after my first child.
The rest of these things are barely even worth mentioning. Planning a vacation at work? Calling in sick to extend a vacation? Sneaking goodies through customs? Who doesn't do that? It's like High School. I'm sorry if the rest of the world didn't learn to cut class and smuggle gum into school like American kids did. Well ok the past generations. Now it's cut other students and smuggle drugs, but hey it's all Hard Core now, or Common Core- whatever they're calling it today. Call your Senator.
The point is Americans were bested on one category: cheating on your spouse. The Germans won that. Americans are so bad at cheating on their spouse as a travel related sin that I, as an American, was not even aware that it was a travel related no-no. Lufthansa. I had no idea. You cheeky Germans! I don't know what they say in Germany but I do know coffee, tea, oder mich does NOT rhyme. Und dis ist how vee say gutbye in Germany Dr. Jones! *smack* Yeah. That's probably about right.
It's Not Easy Being Stoned
So marijuana. Let's be blunt (giggle). It seems to be on the cusp of being made legal so I thought I better do some research. I realize I may be seriously behind the curve but then when did I ever need to know anything about weed? Never, that's when. (Shut up. I didn't inhale. Don't you have to be at church or something?)
Now, however, I have teens and they're going to make this stuff legal, so fine. I'll do my due diligence, right? I won't be caught uninformed when this stuff hits Walgreen's! No sir!
Did you know there are three separate species? Sativa and Indica are the ones everyone smokes. Ruderalis is just plain normal hemp. You can make baskets out of it. To store your weed. In far out rooms lit by black lights and covered in Grateful Dead posters. Who knew?
After that there are dozens and dozens of different strains and hybrids that have different effects on different people and make no sense in terms of names. There is no real standard. It's worse than wine. There are more names and effects for different strains of weed than there are laws banning them. You have things like Hindu Kush, Blue Dream, Gas, Jack Herer, AK47.....you name it some stoner dreamed up a name for it while smoking it. There is even Girl Scout Cookies! Girl Scout Cookies I tell you! Can you imagine the scenario that played out in naming that strain?
Look apparently you need to be a master toker just to appreciate your first toke. You start looking into it and you quickly realize weed is its own huge buzzkill. I mean you want some weed and they ask you, what kind? Weed man! I want weed! Just give me weed! How hard can it be?
You have to shake your head and wonder when you need weed just to calm down and figure out weed. That's not right. No wonder stoners are always so confused.
Don't do drugs. Stay in school.
Now, however, I have teens and they're going to make this stuff legal, so fine. I'll do my due diligence, right? I won't be caught uninformed when this stuff hits Walgreen's! No sir!
Did you know there are three separate species? Sativa and Indica are the ones everyone smokes. Ruderalis is just plain normal hemp. You can make baskets out of it. To store your weed. In far out rooms lit by black lights and covered in Grateful Dead posters. Who knew?
After that there are dozens and dozens of different strains and hybrids that have different effects on different people and make no sense in terms of names. There is no real standard. It's worse than wine. There are more names and effects for different strains of weed than there are laws banning them. You have things like Hindu Kush, Blue Dream, Gas, Jack Herer, AK47.....you name it some stoner dreamed up a name for it while smoking it. There is even Girl Scout Cookies! Girl Scout Cookies I tell you! Can you imagine the scenario that played out in naming that strain?
Look apparently you need to be a master toker just to appreciate your first toke. You start looking into it and you quickly realize weed is its own huge buzzkill. I mean you want some weed and they ask you, what kind? Weed man! I want weed! Just give me weed! How hard can it be?
You have to shake your head and wonder when you need weed just to calm down and figure out weed. That's not right. No wonder stoners are always so confused.
Don't do drugs. Stay in school.
Sunday, June 14, 2015
Planking Inside Sugar Free
Blogging. The very name conjurs images of something between sledding and clogging. See? That right there is reason enough to stay away. Stay far, far away! Yet here I am succumbing to new fangled technology that I am told is actually not all that new fangled anymore. Swell. Next thing you know planking will be out of style and I'll be behind again.
Look I'm going to be honest with you. I intend to use this "technology" in selfish ways. What those are yet I don't know, but I'm sure when I figure them out Google will try and shut me down. That will be my benchmark of success. Google doesn't do evil things you know. Everybody knows this and agrees with it. Of course Google is building a campus in Boulder, Colorado which I hear is an innately satanic town.
http://www.businessinsider.com/google-plans-to-build-an-enormous-new-campus-worry-boulder-colorado-residents-2014-12
Or is that Manitou Springs?
http://spookylaboratory.blogspot.com/2009/10/manitou-springs-city-of-evil.html
I don't know. All I know is The Flatirons sound ominous don't they? That and South Park is all Colorado and such. Which is hilarious, but frightening. I should mention I am not from Colorado. That would be Google.
I am as advertised both agoraphobic and diabetic. It's an excellent combination which, unknown to most people, gives me super powers. Don't believe me? Stay home all day and avoid sugar. I mean who does that? My outrageous claim is therefore safe. Furthermore I am spared the hassle of coming up with the exact specifics of my super power. It's super, and it's a power. I'm in talks with Marvel. That's all you need know.
I'm going to go inside somewhere and do some planking. Without sugar.
Look I'm going to be honest with you. I intend to use this "technology" in selfish ways. What those are yet I don't know, but I'm sure when I figure them out Google will try and shut me down. That will be my benchmark of success. Google doesn't do evil things you know. Everybody knows this and agrees with it. Of course Google is building a campus in Boulder, Colorado which I hear is an innately satanic town.
http://www.businessinsider.com/google-plans-to-build-an-enormous-new-campus-worry-boulder-colorado-residents-2014-12
Or is that Manitou Springs?
http://spookylaboratory.blogspot.com/2009/10/manitou-springs-city-of-evil.html
I don't know. All I know is The Flatirons sound ominous don't they? That and South Park is all Colorado and such. Which is hilarious, but frightening. I should mention I am not from Colorado. That would be Google.
I am as advertised both agoraphobic and diabetic. It's an excellent combination which, unknown to most people, gives me super powers. Don't believe me? Stay home all day and avoid sugar. I mean who does that? My outrageous claim is therefore safe. Furthermore I am spared the hassle of coming up with the exact specifics of my super power. It's super, and it's a power. I'm in talks with Marvel. That's all you need know.
I'm going to go inside somewhere and do some planking. Without sugar.
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