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Thursday, May 30, 2013

Another story about my drive to work, when will the madness end!

Today, during the drive to work, a pickup, a large pickup, cut me off, it just oozed into the small opening between me and the car I was trying to stay far enough away from that we could both stop and not collide.  But, as is the case with so many ambitions this one was short lived, because now this pickup was so close to both cars we probably looked like one long vehicle.  On the tail gate of this pickup was a a bumper sticker, it was small, with stylish text and would have been almost impossible to read had it not been for the proximity.
Thank goodness we were that close, though, because  the message rang loud and true.  Watch out for motorcycles, they are much smaller than a car, easily disappearing into a blind spot.  Plus, the very openness that makes them so appealing also leaves the rider vulnerable, and at great risk for personal injury.  I vowed to be so careful, a good citizen of the highway.

Finally, the monstrous pickup pulled into a gas station, looking at the size of the truck and considering the driving habits of the operator, this was probably pretty common.  And the stoplight just ahead turned green, the freeway was the next left, things were looking up, when this lime green Volkswagen pulled out in front of me, and went slow enough the light changed back to red.  This did offer an opportunity to read the bumper sticker.


It was perfectly logical, bicyclists have rights as well.  Bicycles are completely environmentally friendly, and heart healthy.  It is only smart to take their rights into consideration while driving.  "Share the Road" was going to become my new mantra, learn it. live it, love it.  Everyday, I would keep my eyes open for all of my two wheeled road companions.  A happy relationship, founded on mutual respect and inspired by bumper stickers.

Finally, on the freeway, not many bicycles to worry about out here, but keeping a weather eye for motor cycles, it was my duty.  Also, trying to avoid collisions with cars and trucks as well, it seems wise, maybe I should make a bumper sticker about that.  (Note to self, look into artwork for "avoid all accidents" and research production costs, and potential profit)  My exit is just ahead, when a Prius eases into the lane ahead of me, and I am forced to slow way down, this close to my destination, no point in crashing now.  But, I do get a good look at the bumper sticker.

How true, they are everywhere, and it is our responsibility to not run over them.  They are scurrying across streets, exposed to the elements, while we ride imperiously immune in cars, air conditioners or heaters keeping us comfortable, rain and snow held at bay.  We are like gods, and it is our duty to be beneficent, not vengeful, kind and patient, not mean and spiteful.  I am a changed man, this is like an epiphany, a rebirth.  I will watch for all of God's children.

At the next light, I notice a young man, sporting a mohawk, a lot of facial piercings and ill fitting clothes, his t-shirt says, "skate boarders have rights, too," amen brother!  While driving I see a lot of skate boarders in the streets , they have rights.  And joggers, and walkers pushing baby strollers, in the street deserve some respect as well.  They shouldn't be limited to the artificial constraints of the side walk, the street is for everyone.

On the way home a sign warns, "deer crossing" I'll be careful, another sign, a short distance away, says, "Slow down, children playing."  Ok, good advice. "Park Entrance"  "School Zone" "Baby on Board" all of these are cautionary tales, driving is a terrible, terrifying, awful burden.   And rest assured,  Life Explained Nation, I will watch for every one, you are in safe hands now.  But, if you want to post a new bumper sticker to remind me that is not a bad idea, I can't think of everything.

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

And you thought you had problems.

On average, a person spends almost 47 minutes and 19 seconds (2.43 decaseconds, for those of you more comfortable using metric measurements), which is fine, because for the most part life is kind of rough, and we are only frail, mortal humans.  But, we should all spend a few minutes feeling sorry for this guy.  He had a pencil stuck in his head.  A Pencil Stuck in his Head!  Wow, that is some bad luck, huh.  If any of you have ever had a writing utensil stuck in your head, please share the story with us, here at Life Explained, we will feel sorry for you as well, and we won't laugh, we promise.

Pencil extracted from Afghan man's head


German doctors say an Afghan man who for years suffered from headaches, a runny nose and eyesight problems was found to have a 10-centimetre (four-inch) pencil lodged in his head.
German operating theatre - file pic
A scan revealed the pencil's location so that doctors could operate
Surgeons at Aachen University Hospital removed the pencil and the 24-year-old is reported to be recovering.
The pencil had injured the man's sinuses and right eye socket.
When asked how the pencil had got there he recalled that as a boy he had once fallen and had a serious nosebleed.
The case was presented at a medical conference in Essen on Tuesday by Prof Frank Hoelzle of Aachen University.
The pencil was found only after a detailed medical examination using computer tomography - an image scanning technique, German media 


Tuesday, May 28, 2013

We are only human, some of us, after all.

People often send in resumes, asking for unpaid internships, offering bribes and kickbacks, anything to get their foot in the door at Life Explained.  After all, this is a hard working group of dedicated servants of the planet, who want nothing but an improved quality of life for the residents of Earth, and not just the people, either, plants, animals, insects, we care for them all.  True, we are not all that fond of spiders, or snakes, or giant, mucous covered snails.  But, we want them to be happy, and healthy, just not around here, then we can be happy, as well.  That is why it is troubling and brings much us much sadness to report that even we are not immune to the scandals that are buffeting the nation.



Recently, we developed a small unmanned aerial vehicle to fly stealthily around the Life Explained campus finding the true stars, those who go above and beyond to make things better, the heroes who sacrifice selflessly, giving their all in a valiant effort to improve everything, for everybody.  It was only an effort to recognize those toiling, sweating, bleeding, willing to give their all in An Effort to Make Everything Better for Everybody All of the Time.  Our new company motto, by the way.  Unfortunately, Occasionally Reality Stomps Good Intentions Into The Ground. Our old motto, it is easy to see why we needed a change.
Since we are so comfortable with technology (we are bloggers, after all) we outfitted our drone with  thermal and video cameras, radar avoiding composites, an array of aroma detection sensors (in case anyone brings in fresh donuts) and some light weaponry, nothing lethal, just fun stuff, you know?  This would be a good time to apologize to the people in the hallway, on the 7th floor of building E in front of the elevator at 9:33 this morning.  We are very sorry, but, you did look funny, running, screaming and  waving your arms, it looked like you were being chased by a swarm of bees.  You will be able to see it on YouTube as soon as we clear it with the lawyers, and as soon as Bob from Human Resources gets out of the hospital, we had no way of knowing about the hernia surgery.  Sorry Bob, it was all in good fun, we are sending over a form, nothing important, please sign it and send it back, right away.

It was a terrible surprise when we caught one of our own, laying down on the job.  Dr. Dawg, was supposed to be researching important methods of combating lethargy.  It seems he lost the battle.
We are very sorry to say, in light of this terrible breach of protocol, complete disregard for rules, and workplace ethics, and dereliction of responsibility, we had to dismiss Dr. Dawg.  Sent him packing, all dues paid,  good bye, good luck, and God bless you.

Oh, heck, we can't fire Dr. Dawg.  For one thing he is the designated driver, the majority share holder, and the short stop on the soft ball team.  Plus, he throws the best parties, last year at his birthday bash Three Dog Night performed songs by the Stray Cats.  Man, that guy kills us!

My son the Graduate.

This weekend my oldest son graduated from High School, it was a very proud moment.  Considering the size of the graduating class (about 200) it was a lot of proud moments, not necessarily shared proud moments, we had to take turns.  But, for one moment my joy was unrivaled, then the baton was passed, and I was left sitting in a very uncomfortable seat behind between rows of abusive, potentially violent families of other graduates.  Which made for some very entertaining memories.

All of the literature stated that saving seats was not allowed, it was a matter of space, and not just teachers taking one last shot at the abuse of power before summer break left them victimless, longing for a next years buffet of students, waiting to be slammed into shape by the rigors of state sponsored education.  There were only so many seats and there were so many people who wanted their proud moment.  We got there early and before we even showed up and took our seats, (very nice seats, right on the aisle, by the way) some people had the audacity to save some seats right in front of the seats we would eventually choose.  Shortly after we sat an older man arrived, (he was an immigrant*, somewhere Mediterranean, judging by the accent, and skin tone) who was so incensed of the clear violation of seating protocol that he removed the interloper's jackets, applied so carefully to indicate the seats were being saved and promptly sat programs and other official looking bits of paper on the seats to save them for his family, not yet arrived.  Needless to say things got a bit tense when the owners of the jackets returned to find their clothing saving a completely different set of seats.  But, things worked out, and nobody was injured, at least not physically, there may be some emotional scarring, it is too early to tell.

We had some extra time, it was wonderful seeing all of the kids graduate, but after the first hundred or so, your mind begins to wander.  And you start to notice things, like the smartly dressed woman in the last row of seats on the floor, with the price tag on the bottom or her shoe.  There are a lot of things in the world that are uncertain, but you just know this woman has new shoes, and that makes a person feel a bit better.  Thank you, sharply dressed woman for giving life meaning, again.

Between the seats for the graduating students and the rest of us there was a row of aluminum stanchions connected by a thin, white plastic chain.  At the point of support the chain was probably no more than 2 and 1/2 feet off the ground, in the middle at the bottom of the drop it was less than two feet, and in some places barely above a foot, so it could have been stepped over quite easily.  And it was only a thin, plastic chain, so it could have been broken with a few well placed insults.  Amazingly enough, though, no one tried to breach the sanctity of the enclosure.  Instead, the parents, knowing there were teachers, waiting, watching, brooding on the other side, ready to leap at the slightest provocation**, would line up two or three rows deep behind the plastic chain, paparazzi like, waiting to snap a photo of the proud alumni.  Some students cooperated more than others, posing and smiling, holding up traffic, while others just kind of looked embarrassed and sheepish, and scurried quickly to their seats.  Safe behind their little plastic barrier.

The photographers seemed to come in two basic varieties.  Those with very expensive cameras, and lenses that looked as if they should be able to locate life on Mars, and those with expensive phones.  And without fail, while waiting for the perfect shot, each "phoneographer" would get an important text message, or email, and have to start typing furiously, while their recent grad either posed for naught or walked quickly past and sat down, unphotographed, and happy.  Which was fine, because by this point the email/text message had turned into a harried conference call, and from the serious look on the face of the parent/photographer it must have involved the president, the secretary of state, and prime ministers and representatives from all over the world, in a discussion so intense it makes me nervous just thinking about it, thank goodness, they barely managed to avoid war.

One woman was foolish enough to attempt to stand and take pictures, blocking the view of many people waiting anxiously for their moment of pride. A Sheriff's Deputies, armed, menacing, unsmiling, came over, one palm on the butt of his pistol, (a very large, intimidating pistol, emanating malice, and fear) the other on the handle of his night stick, and told her to have a seat, or she would be sitting in the back of a patrol car, in hand cuffs, and a lot of pain, for her date with the judge.  OK, I made up the the Deputy's monologue, though, it was probably much more interesting than what he said.  Besides, who's tellin' this story?

But, if you see my son, congratulate him, and if you see the woman with the new shoes, tell her how nice she looks, and if you see the sheriff's deputy don't mess around, he is in no mood.

* The immigrant reference was included only because, having worked with immigrants from all over the world I can tell you with certainty that they understand the proper way to demand and protect their rights better than almost anyone born here.  Of course, they also understand the constitution, the bill of rights, the judiciary, the congressional terms of office and the responsibilities of each house, the electoral college and its implications and the division of power between the 3 branches of government better than almost anyone born here, as well.  Show offs, anyway.

** To any teachers who happen to stumble on this, please remember, it is only a little joke.  I have nothing but the greatest respect for teachers.  You are servants of Humanity, doing the thankless job of disciplining our children, oh my goodness, did I say disciplining, I meant teaching, just a little typo.

Another fearless act from a Life Explained reporter.





Rather Large Pink Shoe, so much better for stomping the
masses into obedience.
What started as a simple "update" to a previous item here on "Life Explained" turned into an selfless act of heroism.  Here is the large shoe where the topless woman performed the ritual sacrifice reported earlier. As is obvious, the "cleaners" came through, quickly, and put things back to normal. It was almost as if it had never happened. We tried to reach the woman to have her explain her fiery act of defiance. Her cell phone was answered by a man named Ken, who said "she is busy, but very sorry for her act of desecration. Further, she would like Barbie to know she will never go topless in public again." This seemed a little suspicious, our natural curiosity, probably.  What our top investigator in the area found surprised us all.


World Domination Barbie
Managing to infiltrate the inner sanctum of Barbies Dream of World Domination House, Berlin, our fearless investigator found shocking evidence of Barbie's dreams of a "new world order."  Using the color Pink to strike fear into the hearts of her enemies Barbie is slowly massing an army, loyal only to her, and reaching into the lives of everyday citizens in a way that is as shocking as it is complete.  Since 1959 Barbie has used her stooges at Mattel to distribute small indoctrination units into the homes of countless families.  Parents have been known to rob liquor stores to feed their precious daughter's Barbie Habit.  No collection was complete without "Freedom Fighter Barbie" complete with functional bayonet, and garrote, both in bright pink
Valkyrie Barbie 


Disturbingly, our research led us to proof that Barbie didn't just begin her dreams of world conquest with the Baby Boomers of 20th century America.  There are archived documents proving Viking Barbie led groups of Norse warriors to trample all over Britain as far back as 787 AD.  Beginning in the Isle of Portland in Dorset, these Northmen, led by the ruthless, plastic doll, trampled the area of the Northumbrians, and managed to invade Iona, not once, but repeatedly.  Of course, with failure came blame, and Barbie some how managed to pin the fiasco on Hakon Hakonarson, after the fall of Shetland and Orkney in mid 1400's.  A fascinating bit of history, but too lengthy for our purposes.  For the first time, but not the last Barbie came close to controlling the known world.

"Would you care for a
moist towelette, sir?"
Nothing is safe in Barbie's dream world.  There are no provisions for zoos and there is little concern for animal safety.  In a world of pink forests, oceans and plains animals will need to adapt, traditional methods of concealment and ambush will no longer work.  You certainly didn't believe for a second that Barbie would stop at painting the cities pink.  In fact, our reporter, showing the fearless spirit and drive that you have come to expect from Life Explained, and a bit of daring that surprise even us, captured images like this one clearly showing the once proud dolphin being forced into a position as a bathroom attendant.




Our intrepid reporter in Barbieville,
formerly Munich.
We all owe a debt of gratitude to Gale, the reporter who looked danger in its pink eye and didn't blink.  In the end, it comes down to heroic efforts, that is the only thing that will stop Barbie in her quest for total control.  Force is the ultimate argument, and once it has been invoked it can only be countered by superior force.  We all need to stick together to end the insanity.  Will you be able to sleep at night in a world painted pink.  Probably not, and after a while you not be able to see either.

Thursday, May 23, 2013

Turning discomfort to advantage.

Today we are going to examine the best methods of handling uncomfortable situations at work.  During the course of a busy day things are bound to happen, tense, confrontational moments that test the bounds of humanity, and the average person is ill prepared to handle.  You, of course, are way above average because you were smart enough to read this blog.  You are so smart, and many people say you are quite attractive as well, but that is another post.

We begin, obviously, with situation 1.

You head to the kitchen to refresh your coffee, it has been a productive morning so far, several unruly problems wrapped up into neat bundles and left politely in somebody else's inbox.  A fresh cup of coffee, and maybe a little treat are in order, you have earned the reward.  But, that person, the complainer, from customer service, follows you into the kitchen.  And, without fail, she wants to talk, to share her burdens, probably nonsense.  And things were going so brightly, too.

"Don't you hate it when people leave the sugar dispenser empty?"  She asks, seeking an ally in her battle against the kitchen gremlins.  This is a classic "no-win" situation.  Had you not prepared by reading this blog you would have been stuck, rolling the dice, and, either justifying the inaction of some lazy doofus who couldn't be bothered to re-fill the sugar dispenser.  Or vilifying some poor sap who was trying to get coffee for several senior vice presidents and, running short on time, only hoped to make it back to the meeting before they locked the door and he had to climb the outside of the building to deliver the coffee through the window before they decided to fire him.  But, my friend you are prepared, and have a variety of choices.  Assuredly you can find one to satisfy your muse.

Option 1, the Alfred Hitchcock.

I would kill for some sugar.
Turn, slowly away, and start speaking softly.  "Yes, I do hate it.  It fills me with a homicidal rage.  Starting deep in the pit of my stomach."  You will want to turn up the volume slightly here.  "I can feel the acrid, smoky anger, roiling, boiling, as it rises into my throat," now you will want to be embarrassingly loud, and pick up a knife, make sure it is a butter knife, no point in risking injury.  "The acidic taste of my helplessness, my impotence, in the face of an empty sugar dispenser leaves me blinded by fury and unable to control..."  Trail off in a fade to silence, drop the knife, into the sink, (nobody wants to pick up after you), and, walk slowly away.

Option 2, the Gandalf, the Gray.

Gaze sadly at the empty sugar dispenser, turning it slowly on the counter, to view it from every possible angle, then look the complainer in the eyes, try not to blink, it will add drama.  "These are dark times in which we live.  I am afraid that many sugar cellars are going to be empty before the storm has run its course. We need to stand, united in the face of the maelstrom.  It will not do for our enemy to see us weakened by this nefarious act.  Do not despair, brighter days are ahead, if we can only hold on through the gathering darkness.  Oh, by the way, we might be out of creamer, too."  Then pat them gently on the hand, and smile reassuringly.

Option 3, the Mom,

This is the most difficult, and requires the most sacrifice.  You need to actually summon a few tears, and bury your face in the crook of your elbow.  In a breaking voice, filled with shame, say "it was me, I used the last of the sugar.  I didn't think anybody would mind, I've been so busy, trying to make a nice place for people to work.  I wanted to make sure the copier and printer had paper and toner, and that the fax machine wasn't jammed, plus, the dishwasher was almost full, so I needed to run that, and there were no paper towels in the bathroom, and the furnace filter needed changed, and somebody's jacket fell on the floor, and I had to pick that up and brush the filth from the shell.  It never ends."  Then set down, head resting on the table, weeping noisily.

What makes these so wonderful is adaptability, they will work for all manner of work related blame, use them for anything from parking lot problems to windows left open.  It is my gift to you, my loyal readers.

Please, tune in to the next episode when we discuss email etiquette, telephone politeness and manners in meetings, and the best way to avoid all three.

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Wanted, Secret Agent Job.

We all need a place for things.  At home I have a small bucket, a little storage facility, for my keys, my wallet, the security card for my job, spare change, that my son doesn't grab, pocket knives (of which there are an alarming number, it might not be healthy, this obsession) little pocket sized notepads, (again, there seem to be more of these than most people would think necessary) and pens (a lot of pens).  Last Saturday, a new pen showed up in my bucket.  Not just any pen, though, a combination pen / flashlight*, a delightful little gadget.  My wife, who understands me better than she should, left this little gift for me, without saying a word.

Of course, this made me very happy.  This is like something Batman would have on his utility belt.  This was something 007 might use.  A gift from the gods of functional, wonderful, unique items.

But, without putting it to some use that required both tools being used simultaneously it was only a pen, with a flashlight.  I decided to take it for a spin and see what it could do.  Should it be a Batman inspired test or something from the annals of espionage?  Not relishing a climb up the side of a building to confront the Riddler I decided to go the secret agent route.

Since no covert operative worth his salt would ever be caught dead writing a secret note in the evening, no matter how dark it was, the plan was to get up, around 2:00 AM, creep down the hall into the restroom and write a note that someone would find the next morning.  The note would be "Don't wake me until after 10:00, please, these nighttime ops are killin' me."  Everybody would have a good laugh, and the pen \ flashlight would have proven its worth.

Digging around through a bucket full of knives in the middle of the night to find the appropriate paper did not seem very smart, so I secreted a note pad into the bathroom in an inconspicuous place.  It was great, no one would ever see it (it was such a great place to hide a note pad it actually made me giggle a little bit, in a dangerous secret agent way, of course), and the plan was in motion.

I sat there, waiting patiently, until bed time.  Suddenly, my wife said, "who taped the notepad to the back of the painting?  It makes it hang funny."

"Oh, that," I said, thinking quickly, "it isn't a note pad, it's a cushion, I read where you should have one on all paintings, in case of earth quakes.  I just started with that painting"  Sometimes my resourcefulness is so impressive maybe I should have been a spy.

She rolled her eyes up in head so far it had to be painful, and sighed in a way that sounded like she was actually in pain.  It seemed a little familiar, but I can't put my finger on why, exactly, maybe it was just deja vu.

That night, about 2:00 in the morning, I woke, crept without a sound, well not too much sound, down the hall to the restroom to write a note.  This was going to be great!

 Sadly, the people who made this put the pen and the light at different ends.  So when I turned on the light to write my "secret" note it was shining right in my eyes, with a burning, white hot intensity that caused so much pain I became disoriented, and stumbled around, knocking the painting off the wall.  Fortunately, it landed on my foot so neither the frame or the glass broke.  Though it is going to take some time for the foot to heal, those corners can be so sharp, nothing seven stitches can't handle, though.  But, the agony was so intense that I almost blacked out, thinking quickly, (like a good spy should) I grabbed the shower curtain, to slow down my descent into the tub.  This was only marginally successful, but, it  probably kept the concussion from being too bad.


But, my wife, my delicate little angel, came to save me.  Standing in the doorway, and flipping on the overhead light, almost as bright as the sun, and asking "what in the heck are you doing?!?!?!"  She asked, the concern obvious in her voice.

She is so good to me, she said I could have the note pad back in two weeks, and the pen as soon as the stitches are out.  I am so lucky.

* Just so you know what I have to deal with on a daily basis.  When I showed the guys at work my new pen / flashlight combination Bil said he had one already, on his desk, and he would go get it and show us.  Saying he would be back in about 20 minutes.  Then he asked if he could borrow a roll of duct tape and a pen, and a flashlight.





Some people laugh in the face of an invasive species.

Here is something from NBC News to make you think;


A Miami man pulled an 18-foot Burmese python out of roadside brush and wrestled with it for 10 minutes before cutting its head off with a knife.  The 128-pound specimen turned out to be the biggest Burmese python ever captured in Florida, besting the previous record by more than a foot, wildlife officials said.
"I was pretty exhausted and I didn't want to get bit," Jason Leon, 23, said of the decapitation that ended his struggle with the massive constrictor.  For his trouble, Leon got thanks from the the Florida Fish and Wildlife Commission, which considers Burmese pythons an invasive species that wreaks havoc on the state's ecosystem.
Leon, a college student studying marine biology, said he was riding ATVs with friends in a rural area on May 11 when one of them spotted about three feet of snake sticking out of some brush.
Leon, who used to keep snakes, had never seen a python in the wild and decided to get up close and personal with this one. It wasn't until he yanked him out that he realized how big it was.  As he held it by the neck, the female wrapped around his leg once, then twice and then headed for his waist. He kept grappling with it until he became worried it might sink its razor-sharp teeth into him.  A friend handed him a nine-inch knife and he sunk it into the snake, he said.
Two days later, Leon called wildlife officials, who took the snake and confirmed it was a record-setter. He agreed to donate the skeleton but has been promised the skin, which he plans to tan and put on his living room wall.  Officials said they are grateful the python is no longer roaming the wild and that Leon was not hurt.
"Anytime people are dealing with wildlife, we recommend they use common sense," Segelson said. "If you're going to approach a Burmese python of this size, you should have an understanding of what it takes to euthanize it."
And what it makes me think is, "What the heck gets into people?"  
One minute you are cruising along, carefree, happy, the Florida humidity and mosquitoes slowly sapping your will to live, suddenly you think, "hmm, that looks like an invasive giant python, somebody should euthanize it."  So you leap into action, and wrestle the giant beast out of the bushes, when suddenly you realize "you know, I don't really have an end game in mind, maybe I should be armed."  Fortunately, you have a friend there to "hand you a knife."  While this does not seem like your friend may have been taking this seriously enough, it is much better than throwing you a knife from a safe distance, or jumping back on their ATV and riding away, screaming like they had just seen a giant, invasive python trying to crush their friend, which is probably what your friend would have been doing had it been me.
Anyway, my hat is off to you, Mr. Leon, while I believe in civic responsibility as much as the next guy, well, not if the next guy is you, of course.  And, sacrificing for the common good, after all I am a blogger, my first instinct would have been "wow, I wish we would have slowed enough to get a decent picture of that giant, invasive python, it would have made a great Facebook post."  
Rest assured, Mr. Leon, like the wildlife officials in Florida, I am also glad you were not hurt.  Maybe we can meet in Louisville sometime, and I will buy you a bourbon, because I am sure not going to Florida.

Monday, May 20, 2013

A world gone mad.

Recently fans of the cult television show Dr. Who clashed with fans of the blockbuster movie Star Wars at a convention in the UK.  Though, it sounds suspiciously like clashed may be a little too strong of a word, the local police were called and order was restored when the two groups were told to "keep out of each others way."

Problems seemed to begin when the Treasurer of the Norwich Sci Fi club was told to leave while trying to get the autograph of Graham Cole, an English actor who has appeared in multiple episodes of Dr. Who.  Big mistake. According to several self respecting Dr. Who fans, no self respecting Dr. Who fan is going to let one of those Star Wars nerds tell him what to do.

At the same time, it is easy to understand why Star Wars aficionados don't want any of those Dr. Who geeks and their time traveling phone booth messing up a good convention.  After all, they have gone through all of the trouble of assembling and wearing their Storm Trooper costumes, Droid outfits or Jedi robes, complete with light saber, and then some guy shows up in street clothes, acting all suave, and British.  There is bound to be some resentment.

Of course, there are reports of a long running feud between the Norwich Dr. Who Fans and the Norwich Star Wars fans.  Which could spell big trouble for Norwich. Or, maybe the entire universe, so there is quite a bit at stake here.

George Lucas was not available for comment.

Meanwhile, in Berlin the opening of a Barbie Berlin Dream house has caused quite an uproar.  There is  much anger about the giant, pink dream house complete with virtual cupcakes, and virtual Ken outside the virtual window, washing the virtual car.  People are virtually incensed.

One "Anti Barbie Protester" (that is not a typo, there are "Anti Barbie Protesters") was so mad she nailed a real Barbie (a real Barbie doll, not a "real" Barbie person) to a real wooden cross, and burned it in a giant, pink shoe (probably not real).  Wanting to prove that women were not going to objectified, or leered at, on her watch, she performed the ritual sacrifice topless.

Mobilizing right now is the "Occupy Barbie Dream House" movement, (not a typo, either) who are not going to quit, or shower, until this situation is remedied.  It goes without saying that I did not make it far enough through the article to find out what the situation was or how the remedy would be applied.

One thing is certain, though, there is a lot of turmoil in the world and sometimes we all need a safe place to hide from the madness, the cruelty, the inexplicable.   You are always welcome here, my friends, and it will always be free, remember, you get what you pay for.

Sunday, May 19, 2013

The Awning of a New Day.

Today we are going to attempt to predict the future, the near future, this summer, in general, our vacation plans this summer, in particular. We are going to visit Pukwana South Dakota (and points west, and some points east, and maybe even a point south). The home of the Puk U Bar and Grille and Lawn Mower Race Arena. It is a delightful place, owned by my cousin Marcie, a hard working entrepreneur who has managed to carve out a successful business in the windswept, indifferent plains of Central South Dakota.

Here is the Puk U, the awning is new, at least this is the first time I've seen it.
Those who know me, understand my long, comfortable relationship with cold beer and Kentucky bourbon, (and Tennessee sour mash, and rye from a small distillery in Iowa) and the Puk U has both in generous supply. Though, finding a Puk U t-shirt in the appropriate size is difficult, they are a very hot commodity, still, I have not given up. There is also a wonderful menu, featuring many local favorites, all prepared to order (if the grill is on) and served with cold beer.

But, the real draw is the lawn mower races. People take small, riding lawn mowers and modify them using mechanical prowess, Midwest ingenuity,  and the burning desire to take something designed to be a functional and only slightly dangerous, and turn it into something fast, fun and much more dangerous. It is human nature.  These modified mowers travel at... they go...  reach speeds of... well I don't know how fast they go, but they really go, rocketing around an oval track at speeds approaching way faster than a person should be driving a lawn mower. Which makes for a wonderful spectator sport.

Of course, no true spectator sport is complete without a little action on the side.   Lawn mower races provide this through the process of auctioning racers.  You bid on the drivers, and if they win you get a portion of the prize money, which comes from the auction itself, almost a zen koan, the gambler waging on his \ her own ability to pick the right racer on which to wager.  You see, this is culturally enlightening as well as exciting.

An actual, professional auctioneer is employed to expedite this process. There is something hypnotic, mesmerizing in the cadence of an auctioneer's call. After sitting through the first several racers the siren's song won, it was addictive, and I was powerless to resist,  and had to bid, finally managing to win. Naturally, since I had won the right to root for the racer and would get a part of his winnings, the poor guy never stood a chance. His lawn mower, recognizing the curse that I routinely bestow on various sports teams, actually gave up and stopped without finishing a whole lap. Curses can be funny things, who knew they understood the workings of the internal combustion engine.

But, never quit, that's my motto, (unlike certain lawn mowers) and I am going back this summer. I have been working on my ability to exude a winning demeanor to machinery (mostly by talking to cars in parking lots) and plan on watching my racer cross the finish line, that would be a victory, at least for me.

If you happen to be driving across South Dakota on I90 and see the sign for Pukwana, stop in, find  the Puk U, it is not difficult to locate, it is right next to the race track, and very near to the Fire Station, I think, have a beer, and a shot of bourbon, a good meal (if the grill is on) and leave a very generous tip.  We are talking about family here.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Friday, May 17, 2013

Things that are important, would we lie?


Time for a brief update.

Gale is now a happy resident of the great country of Germany.  She is studiously learning the rules of German grammar, and trying desperately to acquire a taste for Bratwurst and Beer.  Just kidding, everybody likes Bratwurst and Beer.  It is UnAmerican to dislike those things, they are like Apple Pie and Mom.  So if you see her, say hello, or possibly Hallo.  And buy her a brat, and a beer.


One more to go, and I am finished!
Susan would like everybody to know that lists are very cool.  And lists that include numbers are like manna from Heaven.  Susan is an organizational wizard, a MENSA member with a flair for, and a several degrees in, accounting.  Fortunately, Susan is also blessed with patience and a sense of humor, I have tested both over the course of our friendship.


John is still working on his first tweet.  When it was reported that John was a man of few words it seems that may have been an understatement.  His a man of no words, at least no words for Twitter.  In an effort to assist him on the road to Twitter happiness, we have set up an email account for just this occasion.  So, please, email TweetTweetJohn@yahoo.com, pleading for his first tweet.  We will make sure he gets them all.


Bil would like it known that not only did he participate in Chess Boxing he actually won the match.  We are working quickly and fervently to have Chess Boxing added to the next Olympics.  It is a young man's sport though, so we are also working on having Checkers Beer Pong added, just in case it takes too long.  Ah, Beer Pong, a real thinking mans game, so much strategy.  And, here is proof.

Re-enactment, not Really Mike's feet

My cousin Mike, who gets younger and more attractive almost every day has developed a condition that makes him walk around wearing one sock.  A tragic affliction, and we will be taking a collection to combat this curse in a future post, but we need to come up with a name sufficiently terrifying so people will rush to send in a check.  Right now we are just having a little fun, at Mike's expense, with the old nursery rhyme;



Diddle diddle dumling, my cousin John's son Mike
is walking around, one sock off one sock on,
diddle diddle dumpling  Mike, son of John.

It still needs a little work, but research continues, tirelessly.

Life continues, (bumpy, rough, and frightening) and as long as it does we will be here to keep an eye on things.

Thursday, May 16, 2013

A short lived career.

Last weekend my son asked a question about the government, and a perfect opportunity for education was born.  He needs to understand the obtrusive, controlling interference that has been the overriding purpose of governments throughout history.  Sure, they provide roads, waste removal, national security, and parks and recreational opportunities, plus education, and assistance in many facets of research and development, but that is just a front, a method to cover the real purpose. The manipulation and control of the lives of it's citizenry. Who better to explain this than John Kay of Steppenwolf, (he is from Canada, the largest, and most successful, state, I think it is somewhere around Montana)?.  And what better vehicle than the lyrics from "The Ostrich"?

"You're free to speak your mind, my friend,
As long as you agree with me,
Don't criticize the Fatherland,
Or those who shape your destiny,
'Cause if you do, you'll lose your mind, your job and all the friends you knew,
We'll send out all our boys in blue,
And they'll find a way to silence you."

Oh, the nostalgia, the memories, troubadours of defiance, artists against the "establishment."  Leaping quickly to action, I had a cup of coffee and thought about some cool songs. By Wednesday evening, I had assembled a play list of anger, and disillusionment selectively going between Amazon and iTunes to fill in the gaps in my collection, judiciously using whichever was less expensive. Thursday morning it was ready, the turning of the page, the dawning of a new age.

Here is the list (you know, sometimes lists are useful and can be very cool);

All loaded and ready to roll, it was a great drive to work.  I got out in the parking lot, and thought, "I'm through toilin' for the MAN.  It is time to take a stand against tyranny, injustice, it is time to stand up and be the voice of those that can not be heard."  Fuming, angry, intolerant, life was going to start playing by my rules, answering to me.

Then, daylight came and slapped me in the face, "you have a mortgage, a car payment, an HMO and a retirement plan, plus your son is headed for college. And, don't forget, the Klondike Bars in the freezer at home."  Revolution will have to wait,"  Reality said.  Curse you reality, curse your love affair with cold, hard, remorseless facts, and curse your flawless refrigerator inventory technique.

Oh well, change is difficult, and I probably don't have the stomach for insurgency, anyway.  Remember, though, good music should speak to you in powerful, wonderful ways, art should always make you dream.  Everybody should be allowed to feel like a revolutionary once in a while, but, the dishwasher still needs emptied and somebody has to make the first pot of coffee, so off I go, smiling, happy about the beautiful weather, and delighted there is only one more day until the weekend.

Tomorrow on the way to work, "Ghost Riders in the Sky" by Johnny Cash, "Cheyenne" by the Del Lords  and "My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys" by Willie Nelson,  I hope I can find some boots, a hat and a lariat, because I will be ready to ride the range.




Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Ok, here's the deal, the App Store is giving away a $10,000.00 dollar gift card to the lucky person who downloads the 50 billionth app.  (I would type that out as a number, but have no idea how many zeroes to use).  And, I intend to win that gift card!

Since space is always limited it is vital to pick the correct app.  This is further assisted by my ability to see the "big picture."  A rare blessing that has haunted me for many years, always weighing the options, cautiously deciding on the best course of action.  For example, when we go out to eat deciding on an entree is torture.  Will it be the bacon cheeseburger, or the Swiss mushroom burger, maybe the buffalo chicken wings, or the shrimp scampi, hey they have BLT's, and Ruebens.  Of course, no matter how good the meal is I am always convinced something else would have been better.  To combat this, I have come up with an ingenious plan to get the right app, and get enough of them that I will slide in at the right second, and win that gift card.  Plus, with my fool proof method to evaluate apps and their worthiness the $10,000.00 will be put to optimal use.

First, decide on a category, today's focus is productivity.  Everybody wants to be productive, and if it is done while goofing around with an app, well, that is called "golden."  Next, is this "productivity" going to revolve around numbers, or letters, or both?  We will go with letters, as numbers are somewhat confusing, and, inflexible, and apps that use numbers also use terms like "parameters," and "exponents," "operators," and "standard deviation," then you need to decide on "the order of operation," and I am way too busy to explain all of that stuff today.


So, we are going to find the right app that uses words to be productive, now we are getting somewhere.  Do we want something to "process words," like a note taking and storage app (sentences, and paragraphs, that's where it's at) or something involving lists.  Of course, lists are kind of dull, (sorry, Susan, we call them like we see them) and require planning, follow through, and attention to detail.  Who could possibly be productive with that kind of pressure!?!?!?

Ok, we want an app to help us be productive, something that does not involve numbers, one that will assist us in writing and keeping notes.  Now, we are getting somewhere.  It needs to be available for the iPad and the iPhone, so that eliminates several.  Separating the wheat from the chaff now.

There are certain features it needs to have, one of those is what is commonly called "cloud storage."  This is important, because with cloud storage you have another password that you can forget, but, once they email you a link to reset your password you can view and edit your notes from any device that has internet access.  Further, the cloud storage needs to be free.  To paraphrase my friend Bil, paying for "cloud storage" is for suckers.  Now we are narrowing it down a bit.

Any decent note taking and note keeping app needs to have some picture manipulation features.  A picture is worth a thousand words, but a picture that has been properly manipulated anddigitally enhanced can bring in at least 1275 and maybe up up to 1515 words in the right market.  It feels like we are closing in now, doesn't it?

Next you need to look at the ratings.  The last thing anybody needs is to try to write a decent paragraph with several forms of punctuation, and a lot of high falutin metaphor, and fancy modifiers with a "dog app that crashes a lot" and uses a "clunky interface," so it will need to be in the low to mid 4 star range.  We are not animals, after all.  They are falling by the roadside faster than we can count now.  I am really starting to feel good about this.

Of course, it has to be 99 cents, or less.  Who is going to spend three dollars for something that fits on a device that fits in a pocket, who do they think they are dealing with, Big Daddy Money Bags?  C'mon, get real.  My friends, this is called making progress, we should have an answer soon.

It is time to recap.













You know what, games are pretty cool, who doesn't enjoy a good game.


Monday, May 13, 2013

Ah, Home Improvement, it Makes You Feel Like a Man.


Today's home improvement tip;  How to fix that annoying squeaky floor.  You know the one that wakes everybody up, when you are trying to sneak into the kitchen for a little snack, around 2:00 in the morning.  Yeah, that would be great if you got rid of that.

You will need a hammer, some shims and a helper, oh and don't forget to stock up on bandages and antibiotic ointment.  If you can't find a hammer, don't worry, just grab a wrench, or a crow bar, or a big screw driver, or even one of your dress shoes.  Danged uncomfortable things, anyway.  In a pinch you can even use that big butcher knife, (remember to hold it by the handle, not the blade) though that is only recommended for the experienced do-it-yourselfer whose major medical insurance is all paid up.  If you don't know what shims are they are like little pieces of wood, kind of angled and thicker on one end, oh just grab some nails, or screws or whatever is laying around.  In a pinch you can just use some salad forks from the kitchen, they are kind of pointless anyway, who needs a different fork for the salad, the bigger the better, am I right.  Remember to practice looking indignant first, because sooner or later someone (like your wife) is going to ask where all the salad forks have gone, and you do not to want to have to explain that.



Next, you will need to go down into the the crawl space.  You know that wooden door that looks like it is  laying at a funny angle a stack of scrap wood on the side of the house?  That is the crawl space opening.  Just open it, come on open it, it is not that heavy.  There you go, good job!

Holy crap, look at the size of that spider web, man I would hate to see the thing that spun that.  Is 
that a hissing sound, mixed with a little eerie kind of chirping?  I definitely smell decay and rot coming from down there, you know someone said something about all of the squirrels in the neighborhood vanishing. 


You know, maybe the squeaking isn't that loud after all.  It wouldn't hurt to cut back on the late night snacks either.  

Saturday, May 11, 2013

Yet Another Chance to Save the County.

Senator Rand Paul recently made a trip to Iowa, and is planning on visiting New Hampshire and South Carolina. He claimed that the locations were completely coincidental, but it does not take a Beltway Power Broker to understand that this is the first round of the Rand Paul Presidential Campaign. Which is fine, the country is in such good shape elected officials really have no need to spend all of their time trying to solve America's problems.

Of course, that was just a joke, the country is a mess. And Senator Paul is no more or less guilty than other officials, getting elected and re-elected can be a full time job, and running for President is a demanding, daunting task. Just raising the money to explore the possibility of a run for the Office of President is terrifyingly time consuming.

Things have become so bad lately though, it might be time to consider a change. Elections are won and lost on the campaign trail, not in the confines of the Houses of the Senate. People really don't care what an elected official has done, only what they are willing to promise. Obviously, somebody needs to be on the trail, pressing the flesh, kissing the babies, raising the money, and most importantly trashing the opponent.

There is a very simple alternative. Politicians should be forced to hire actors to campaign for them. Paid, professional, practiced speakers, who can emulate the elected official while the office holder is holding the office, and governing.
Congress people can monitor the activity and make sure the speech writers and actors are portraying the candidate correctly, and still have many more hours to run the country.

Of course, this will not be necessary once we have perfected the cloning process, let's check in with Dr. Dawg and see how that is progressing.



As you can see it might be while before this technology is ready for elected officials (cynics, please add your own joke here). But, that does not deter from the fact that system is in need of a little work, maybe some revamping.  If you like this idea call your elected representative and pass it on.  And, if you are an actor, then send in a resume, and a few photos, plus a video clip or two.  Remember, you are saving the country.

Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Friday, May 10, 2013

A nice day for a drive.

It was a great drive to work this morning.  It is Friday (which improves everything) and Billy Preston and I were asking the musical question "will it go round in circles, will it fly high like a bird up in the sky?" still unanswered, but with a wonderfully upbeat sound who cares.  The roads were still wet from the overnight thunderstorms, (storms that had washed the the work week almost completely away) but the sky was brightening and the horizon was smiling and gave commuters a little wink, even the heavens were feeling good.  It was going to be a nice day.

Merging from one freeway to the next and wanting to get over into the left most lane, (the fast lane) a quick, cursory glance in the drivers side mirror revealed a car fast approaching.  It is Friday, and nobody wants to be rude on such a wonderful day, so I waited to let it pass.  But, it was two cars, a black Honda and a Silver Hyundai.  And they were in a hurry, and were waiting on no one.

Pulling in behind them, and listening to Billy Preston sing about having a song that

"ain't got no melody," he is "gonna sing it to his friends.""  I couldn't help but wonder what they were listening to, maybe "click click boom," by Saliva.  Something aggressive and filled with rage.

The Black Honda made a tragic error, letting the Silver Hyundai slip to the right and go around him. Maybe the driver was looking for "Guerrilla Radio" by Rage Against the Machine on his MP3 player. Or they were an older person who needed something like "Danger Zone," by Kenny Loggins.  Perhaps it was just a moment of lucid, reasonable thought.  Probably not.

That was not going to happen to the driver of the black Honda, don't be foolish.  The car swerved quickly to the right, to pass the offensive Silver Hyundai.  Meanwhile, Billy Preston was telling me about his dance,

"ain't got no steps, no, gonna let the music move me 'round." Sadly, there was a car too close to the front of the Hyundai and the only choice the Black Honda had was to pull back in behind, stuck in 2nd place, you know it was murderously painful, too.  I imagined the grip tightening on the wheel as the driver cursed the fates, and the lousy music on local radio.

They both flew past the blocking car, and found themselves stuck in their respective positions, the traffic was getting too heavy.  Desperately trying to out maneuver each other, weaving in and out of traffic, horns honking, tires squealing.  It was going to be something to see, who would get downtown first, I wish I had put money on the Hyundai.

Unfortunately, a large, seriously large, pickup (with a "Love to Scrapbook" bumper sticker and an artificial flowered wreath attached to the tailgate pulled between me and the battling commuters, and I would never know who won the race downtown.  But there was something so peaceful in the way the wreath rocked back and forth as the pickup swayed, almost tipping over, too large, and unstable for that kind of high speed, abrupt lane change.

When I pulled up to the stoplight at the bottom of the exit, (just as Billy Preston sang about his story with no moral, and the bad guy winning every once in a while) the Hyundai and the Honda were sitting side by side at the red light.  Engines revving, staring intently at the light, waiting for the green, hoping to get a jump, both hands clutching the steering wheel as though they hated it, studiously not making eye contact.  Women can be so stubborn.

Anyway, thank you, racing, raging commuters , large pick up drivers, the smiling, winking heavens and especially you, Billy Preston, you all helped make my ride to work special.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ghj5V5cUo1s

Happy Friday, all.

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Technology Explained

It has been several weeks since technology landed here and life was altered by the addition of an iPhone.  It has been a whirlwind of activity.  Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, all waiting.  It was a fresh beginning.  Smart phones are a blessing, sent from the heavens to reward us for living so long with a phone that was tethered to a wall.  Today we will discuss the time saving, multi-tasking abilities of the iPhone.

Everyday you see countless people driving, robot like, both hands on the wheel, both eyes on the road, machines, scanning the traffic ahead and judiciously using the mirrors to watch behind.  Cautiously looking for potential problems.  Think of all that down time, wasted.  Fools!

Smart phone users, on the other hand, are answering emails, sending text messages, scheduling appointments.  Using all of that wasted time driving to get things done.

Just this morning, on the way to work, I surfed the net for a recipe for dinner tonight (found one using cheese and ground beef patties, might be good), updated my Facebook status, "driving to work, 75 mph, passing doofus in Festiva, flipped him off."  And I liked it, too.  Took a few pictures and posted them to Instagram, titled, "Nice day for a drive, enjoying the scenery"  Answered an email from some guy that has a time share plan that will make me rich.  "Not interested, still waiting on a big fat check from Nigeria" (I was tempted, but how much money can one person use?).  All while rocking and rolling to the Jim Carroll Band performing "People Who Died."

Plus, somehow, during the spasm of productivity that my commute has become with the addition of "SMART" phone technology, I managed to top my high score on "Angry Birds, On the Road, Again"

Not only that, but I am typing and posting this right on the 5th Avenue curve, the maelstrom that has taken so many careless souls over the years.  In case my wife reads this, that was just a joke, I am not really writing this while driving our car, at 75 miles an hour, on the 5th Avenue curve.  It was just a joke.

Anyway, I am here, time to go make coffee.  Have a nice day, and stay connected, it is what separates us from the animals.  Please tune in next week when we cover minor home surgery thanks to YouTube tutorials, in a post titled "Thanks to the iPhone, you don't need to be a physician to heal thyself!"  Or, "Go ahead and try this at home."

Monday, May 6, 2013

Yes, another spider story.

Normally I try to avoid political issues completely.  For one thing there are plenty of political blogs, web-sites and programs already, (but, and this is an important point, only one Life Explained) but, when a politician fearlessly puts himself in the line of fire to protect his constituents it should be mentioned, even here where vital issues are covered, almost in real time.  Yes we pride ourselves on bringing you the news before it even becomes the news.

And when that politician goes one step further and starts eliminating the leading problem of the world today (that's right, loyal readers, SPIDERS) then he deserves a little Life Explained recognition.

So here's to you, Governor Chris Christie.  I would like to shake your hand, after you disinfect it, and maybe bleach it, unless you can find something a bit stronger.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bwjke6iRD14

Welcome, Friend, Iss. 1, Vol. 2

My friend Bil has a new iPhone, his first.  Bil is very technically sophisticated, one time he broke the screen on his iPod Touch, and replaced it himself, and it worked!  He never needed to prove his electronic prowess to any of us ever again.  Why it took him this long to get an iPhone lies somewhere beyond the scope of reason.  He had an iPod, and an iPod Touch before any of us, and he had the first iPad in the warehouse.  Further, to make maximum use of his time, he had the device constantly at the ready.  If he was waiting for the elevator he would have iPod in hand performing some small screen gaming miracle, saving or obliterating entire communities, playing chess with people from across the world, making words where there were only tiles, or moving cargo from point A to point B in a speedy, efficient, point producing manner, all with a casual gesture of his thumb, while firmly holding a coffee cup in his other hand.  Honestly it is poetry in motion.

Bil is the person who really impressed upon me the power of the iPod.  He showed me a slide show he had assembled using pictures of his son on a carousel, deftly adding speech bubbles and musical accompaniment, taking simple pictures and turning them into a powerful, moving presentation where fantasy and reality combine to make magic.  It changed my iPod touch from a simple game playing, music listening wonder into a trans-formative electronic machine with supernatural powers of transmogrification   An act for which my wife has never forgiven him.  Since they don't often see each other it is not a big deal for either.

As is plain to see Bil and the iPhone are made to be together, it was inevitable.  In many ways it was like a heavyweight boxing match, (incidentally, Bil is the only person I know who has ever participated in chess boxing, not that it has anything to do with this, but it is another interesting fact about Bil), where Bil and the iPhone were circling, waiting, feinting, jabbing, counter jabbing, (not unlike a date, really) until they could no longer stay apart.  And in a mad rush to the center of the ring they opened on each other with a flurry of lefts, rights, hay-makers, and round houses, punch after brutal punch, locked in a death match, pounding away at each other until they were both lying, flat on their backs, unable to move in the center of the ring, as the referee counted them both out. Well, maybe not quite like that.

Let's just say it was long overdue.  So, wherever you may be reading this, whatever else you may be doing, please put that aside and join me in giving Bil a round of applause.  He may only have one L but he has an iPhone, plus, he is a pretty cool guy.

Friday, May 3, 2013

Mars Deserves Better.

It was a leap to the heavens, followed by the inevitable, fatal crash back to reality.  There was a Tweet, a chance at immortality in 140 characters or less, it had been re-tweeted by someone, so there is no way to know how long it had been bouncing around in the "tweet-o-sphere" (OK, there probably is a way, but it would require more effort than someone who has just had his dreams smashed against the jagged, unforgiving rocks of reality should be asked to give).

"Send your name and message to Mars" it said, "Wow, that would be so cool, my name and my message on  Mars.  It took seconds to click on that link.  It was from the University of Colorado, at Boulder, and they are participating in the "Mars Atmosphere and Volatile Evolution Mission" MAVEN for short, of course.  It really is quite a name, and a catchy acronym makes anything more tempting.  An opportunity to send a message and your name to Mars doesn't come up often.  (Let me know if I am wrong about that, please, maybe Mars has so many names and messages it looks like a subway wall, covered in graffiti).

Now for the bad bit, it has to be a haiku.  Honestly, Martians like haiku that much?  Poetry as a form of communication, it seems a little doubtful, but a form of poetry that is potentially 1400 years old, and has so many rules and nuances as to be almost impossible, and doesn't even rhyme, well that just seems silly.  Can Martians really appreciate the imagery that a person needs to cram into 17 syllables.  Well, one can only hope the University of Colorado at Boulder knows what they are asking.

Spending quite a while crafting and editing and re-writing, and just in general nuancing the heck right out of a haiku, at last there was a perfect poem.  Of course, it had to be about Mars, what would Martians know of a;

bird walking on air
with delicate white above
green life waits below

Or anything like that.  It was written and submitted, and then all that needed to be done was wait for the love and gratitude of Martians everywhere, as they sobbed quietly at the beauty of a Martian haiku masterpiece.  "Submit" and wait, and wait, and then go get some coffee, and wait some more.

WHAT?  It didn't upload?!!  Robbery, and now it disappeared!  And, trust this, it was so wonderful it can never be recreated.  Ah, the poor Martians will never know what they missed.

Here is the link if you want to try, but don't get your hopes up.
http://lasp.colorado.edu/maven/goingtomars/


Thursday, May 2, 2013

Oh, here we go again.

Those who read this blog know we are dedicated to bringing you news of all the invasive species that are sturming and dranging their way across the land of the free and the home of those of us who were born here. When news of the Snakehead fish invading the Harlem Meer in Central Park crossed our twitter feed, it was a slap in the face.  An invasive species of "top level predators" clawing their way through the Big Apple (hey, that might make a good movie, (mental note, call movie people)) is almost the final straw.  When an aquatic animal can move in on the City That Never Sleeps, you know there are dark days ahead.


A little back-ground on the Snakehead fish.  It is widely reported that they can travel as far as 1/4 mile on land, as long as they stay wet.  They wriggle and use their fins to move from place to place.  But, several sources have indicated that they are learning to use Mass Transit, and are working on getting their learners permit, it is reported they will feel much more comfortable driving their own car, as the subway is kind of dirty, and don't get them started on the undesirable elements, and, taxis are so expensive.  God help us if they ever discover airlines.


But, that is not what we need to address today, what we need to talk about is Canadian Geese.  Actually Canadian Geese is a misnomer, these are Greater Columbus Metropolitan Area Geese.  They have started traveling in packs, flashing gang signs, drinking cheap wine right out of the bottle, smoking cigarettes, leaving the ashes, matches and butts everywhere, whistling at and making crude comments to women.  They are not backing down from anyone.

There is a particularly ruthless pack of geese that have occupied the area around Kohl's at the corner of Hamilton and Morse.  If you are unfortunate enough to walk that way you will see them, dressed in little black leather jackets, with the slightest hint of a revolver handle sticking out from their belt.  Don't make eye contact, that is dangerous, but, don't not make eye contact either, that is suicide, and if they ask you for a little corn, or a small fish run, fast.  The minute you stop and reach for your wallet, you're finished.  

Local police have indicated an unwillingness to tackle this menace head on, as they are terrified.  When asked why, they provided this video as proof that geese are nobody to mess with.


We might get lucky and the geese will eat the snakeheads, and the spiders will get the geese, and we can make an uneasy alliance with the wasps to kill the spiders, then... next, followed by..., Well, maybe we can get some aliens to tackle the wasps. After that somebody else will have to take over, we can't solve all your problems for free, you know.

If you have any suggestions, we would like to hear them, we are in the basement, behind the bookshelf, under a blanket, with a flashlight.

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Please, be careful.

I might have been on TV today, maybe.  I was driving to work this morning, and while taking the ramp onto the freeway that delivers commuters downtown I noticed an odd looking apparatus on top of a car in the other lane and several hundred feet in front of me.

My only option, accelerate, pass, and inspect this car, it had decals that from a distance were illegible, the whole thing was intriguing.  Passing the car at about 60 miles an hour provided enough opportunity to examine the device on the car as well as some of the stickers.  It was some sort of square cube, mounted on a tall stand and it had a sign that said "LIVE" and the car was tattooed with the identification and call letters of the local affiliate of one of the national networks.

It must be a camera, and it has to be part of the traffic report, and it must be some sort of "live look at traffic conditions" and I might have been on camera, even for just a moment or so.  Cool!  Then I remembered that my hair was such a mop of unmanageable, hideous, tangles that I just kind of left it, and it had been a couple of days since the last shave, and my shirt has a slight tear, and oh my what a mess.  No worries, I wasn't doing anything embarrassing.  So, that was good, but, it brought back some memories.

One time, long ago, I was watching a Monday Night Football game.  This game was so long ago that the announcers were "Gifted" Frank Gifford, "Dandy" Don Meredith, and Howard "the Mouth" Cosell.  Yes, I am that old.  The television camera would scan the crowd, as they still do, and settled on interesting, or attractive people.  Eventually, it settled on a woman, elegantly dressed, with shining, beautiful, flowing hair, a woman of such exquisite beauty she seemed the perfect counterpoint to the brutality of the game.  She looked the picture of taste, class, and grace.  And then she put her finger in her nose, right there on national television.  Frank Gifford proved his "gift' extended beyond the field when he said "almost perfect," as the camera hastily moved away from the woman.  

My brief encounter with potential TV stardom and the potentially disastrous consequences of uncombed hair and a scruffy looking beard left me thinking of that woman, and what had happened to her.  Had that one brief indiscretion changed her life?  Was she overlooked for potential promotions, was she denied jobs modeling fashion wear, did her husband leave her?  Did that one mistimed simple act cost her a happy life?  Probably not, there was no YouTube then, no social media to spread this picture all over the world.  Today, if a person were caught on camera doing something like that, it would be everywhere.  She would have become an internet sensation.

In the novel "1984" George Orwell posited that the government would become so powerful, and all encompassing, that it would intrude into every corner of life,  "Big Brother" would watch every move, and swoop in at the slightest provocation, whisking an offender away and threatening to let rats eat their face off.  Orwell was half right, he foresaw the constant observation, and the encroachments on privacy and freedom.  But, he had no way of knowing about government incompetence, the sequester, and furlough days, and the constant, endless, whining sound coming from the nations capitol.  But, the intrusion is still there, and as a citizen you need to exercise great caution, one wrong move and your life could be ruined.  To paraphrase the Great Swamp Philosopher, Pogo "we have met Big Brother, and they are us."  Don't worry, I have your back.