Thank You, Art Bell, An Antidote To Indifference.

Have you ever looked into the night sky, amazed at all the stars, and the incomprehensible distances, and thought "we can not be alone"?  Or, looked into the dense fog that can surround, and seem to move through, wooded areas and felt that something was looking back?  Did you ever think in the golden age of digital data, and knowledge we have forgot how to dream, and imagine, and think beyond what we are taught?  Did you ever think that day is the time for humans, but, the night belongs to "them"?  If you could answer yes, or maybe, to any of these questions, and have satellite radio, rejoice!

Art Bell is back.  And the night may belong to "them" but night time radio will always be Art Bell's, at least as long as he wants it, at least for Satellite Radio subscribers.

Art Bell, and his show Coast to Coast AM, is a wonderful, delightful, entertaining trip through the fantastic. If UFOs interest you, this is the place, in fact his home studio is so close to Area 51 they could share a parking lot.  And, UFOlogists were regulars on his show, some of whom said they had infiltrated the top secret government facility.  He even received a package with what was claimed to be debris from the extraterrestrial crash in 1947.

He spoke, at length, and several times, with a man who claimed to be Southern Baptist Minister who accused him of being the "Devil's Mouthpiece."  On another occasion he took a call from a man who claimed to be the "son of Satan."  As equal opportunity as it gets.

Big Foot hunters, time travelers, people who could describe races of advanced beings living underground all made visits to the Art's phone lines.  As did a man who claimed to have seen an experimental wide area weapon used by the US government that had the power to target only certain people and leave others unhurt.  There was never a shortage of material on the show.



And now it returns.  And we should all celebrate.  In a time when conformity, and formula rule the air, and commercial success depends on duplication, the maintenance of well defined boundaries, and the artificial outrageousness of popular culture here is something that walks it's own path, and gives voice to the side of humanity that is often overlooked, or ridiculed as being trite, and absurd.

Whether you believe in, or even care about, any of these things matters little, you should be grateful that the people who do have their place, and you should listen to them, just because there should be room for a little wonder in all of us.  Without that life would be so common, and drab.

Just relax, have a little juice, and watch some cartoons.

Dateline, Washington DC.

In what many are considering a routine, almost daily threat of childish behavior the United States government is promising to use all of it's mighty legislative power to stop working.  

"If we don't get our way we won't do anything at all," most of the elected officials inside the beltway are quoted as saying.  "And, if that doesn't work we will not eat our vegetables, ever, ever again!  That will show them."  Many members of Congress have threatened to run away, possibly to live with "Grandma."

There are unsubstantiated rumors that many elected officials will "hold their breath, and turn blue."  They have sent letters to all of the constituents asking "How would you like that, huh?  Hold our breath until we turn blue!"

Amid  reports of hair pulling, jumping up and down, laying on the floor of the house screaming, pounding, and kicking, there is little sign of compromise, or any decent, civilized, adult behavior at all.

One knowledgeable expert has concluded that "maybe they just need a nap, and are a little cranky, you know how that can affect elected officials.  If we can just get them in a car and drive them around for a while they will be fine.  Maybe, if they are good we can get them some ice cream, and take them to the park."

A patient nation waits, worried that they are not doing a good job, raising their government.

In case of a water landing, stay away from the snake.

Recently, NBC News Travel reported that an 8" Mandarin Rat Snake (which sounds a little harsh, to us) was escorted off of a Quantas Boeing 747 airliner at Sydney International Airport bound for Tokyo.  Passengers were not allowed to board the plane until Samuel L. Jackson was finished clearing the plane (no, that is not true, we made that up).  But, they did have to put 370 passengers in hotel rooms for the night, and bring in a snake free plane to get them to Tokyo.

The Australian Department of Agriculture quarantined the snake for analysis, but they could not explain how the snake actually got on board. They did conclude that the snake did not have an valid ticket, and may have counterfeited one, but more than likely sneaked on board, by pretending to be a stick, a stylish bracelet, or an adornment on someone's cane.

However it managed the feat the mildly venomous snake did not belong there, and was removed, forcibly, and humiliatingly from the plane, right in view of the entire terminal, and nobody was allowed on the plane until it was fumigated.  Certainly, this was very traumatic for the poor snake.  It would seem that Australians would be more open minded about snakes, and spiders, and stuff that makes most people uncomfortable.  Please see;

http://tim-thingsastheyare.blogspot.com/2013/04/another-good-reason-to-vacation-in.html

However, even Australians have their limits, and free loading snakes catching a lift on their planes may be more than they can handle.  This is probably only going to inconvenience snakes who want to travel, but someone should be thinking about their rights, too.

Another thing to worry about, what if too many of the Mandarin Rat Snakes end up in Australian prisons, what will happen to the Mandarin Rats?  Who will take care of them?   We here at Life Explained urge you to contact your local Australian politician and demand amnesty for the snake.

We have even gone so far as to set up a legal defense fund for the snake, send your donations, electronically in small, (not too small, though, if you want to do good you can't be cheap)  non-sequential bytes to tweettweetjohn@yahoo.com.

Thank you,

A new threat to individual liberty.

Morning is always a little strange, for one thing it happens so early in the day.  And it comes so close to sleeping that people are not always wide awake, and things can take on a surrealistic edge.  Coffee can help, but only a little.  It is still our job to muscle through the weirdness and get to evening, which is the sanest part of the day.

Everything was going somewhat well, for a Monday morning, but as I was getting some water from the water cooler, up on the fourth floor, (home of the 4th floor people, by the way, talk about a little odd, but that is another tale) and noticed a white pigeon, or dove. Birds sometimes sit next to our windows, maybe it is for the warmth, maybe they like the smell of coffee (I make very good coffee), maybe they just are curious about what we are doing, normally they fly off, if you look at them too long,  But, this was am all white pigeon, or dove, and this one had a tag on his right leg, and kind of looked at me a little crossly, and I think he flipped me off, but I am not sure, they have no fingers.

Then I remembered reading about a plan during World War II to use bats to carry little incendiary devices to burn buildings down, I don't remember exactly which side was thinking about doing this, but it didn't work out very well.  They said bats were very difficult to aim, and that is probably true.  More likely though, they couldn't get the bats to pick up the small fire bombs, and nobody wanted to pick up the bats and tie on the apparatus, (who can blame them?) because bats are so creepy, almost little flying rats  And some people still think bats and vampires are related somehow (plus, I saw a movie one time where bats ate people, maybe they saw it too).  So, they just used planes to drop great big bombs, and that seemed to work pretty well, and the bats were happy about it, too.

Then it hit me, maybe this was no ordinary pigeon, or dove (though we are all grateful it was not a napalm armed bat, we voted on that during the morning meeting, and it was unanimous).  Maybe this was an NSA pigeon (or dove, is there really a difference?) spying on the water cooler discussions.  Sure, they are supposed to cut back on the electronic eavesdropping, but what about good, old fashioned, feet on the ground, or fourth floor window sill espionage.

"Would you mind repeating that?"

Really, looking back, there was a squirrel that seemed a little suspicious last night.  Hanging around while I was grilling dinner.  Maybe it was just my imagination, though.  You know how things never look quite right when you are tired.  Either way, I am going to exercise a little more caution around the Life Explained Guard Dog from now on.

"Could you please speak into the squeaky toy?" 

Happy Birthday, Kind of Belatedly.

Last night we celebrated Susan's Birthday, it was a glorious evening, filled with good company and delicious beer, in a glorious atmosphere, of fun, festive celebration. It took place in a popular, wonderful little neighborhood downtown. It was crowded, noisy, colorful, and fun. All of the things we love.
   
Occasionally, in Central Ohio weather will cooperate and when it does it may be the most

comfortable, fabulous place on Earth, last night was one of those nights. It was so nice even the frosty
mugs of beer were having fun, and helping Susan celebrate, using condensation to spell messages of joy and hope. Here is an example.

All of the people were pretending to be there as part of the football game weekend festivities, or visiting Comic Con, which was taking place somewhere close (it was sad when no one dressed as a famous, or infamous creatures from comics, movies or television was wondering about, for Susan's birthday).

But, I knew why they were there. I overheard one say "look, look, there's Susan, I told you we would see her." They were too nervous to ask for an autograph, poor common folk.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Surviving High School, Again, a Parent's Guide.

Last night there were conferences at my son's school.  They used to call them Parent-Teacher Conferences, but teachers did not like being second, we all know who is in charge, after all. And, nobody wanted to pay to change all of the literature, so they just whited out the first part, and left Conferences.

People who have known me a while, and loyal readers of my blog, understand the long, awful, blood stained, history I enjoyed with teachers.  There were some tremendous, barbaric battles, all of which I lost, in a terrible, long, painful, war, which I lost.  Considering how poorly the numbers stacked up, I did ok just making it out alive.

Once I reached escape velocity, and managed to break free of the chains, and shackles of the American Education System there was no looking back.  Until the kids were born.


The nightmares started all over again.  Our youngest son is in high school, so there have been many, many "conferences."  Now, however, he is taking mostly AP (Advanced Placement, I think) classes, as did my older son.  These are not ordinary teachers, no these are the elite, special forces teachers, who have managed to claw, and fight, and garrote their way to the top of the teacher pile, leaving the broken heaps of less dedicated teachers to live off the scraps of mundane, run of the mill high school classes.

Obviously, I have mastered the art of "conferencing" with your modern day high school teacher.  And, I am going to make these tips available, for free, because I care, about you, modern society.

1.  Never let the teacher sit between you and the door.  It may be your only hope.
2. Always keep a freshly sharpened #2 pencil concealed in the palm of your hand, in case things get ugly.
3. Avoid making direct eye contact with the teacher, they will sense the terror.
4. Make your first statement a denial of all possible fault.  
5. When running in terror out of the room, don't run in a straight line, always zig-zag, it will make it harder for them to hit you with that icy cold, freeze you in place teacher stare.

Remember, it will only be twelve years, and then you are free, unless you count preschool, and kindergarten.  Oh, and avoid summer school, and dance class, and martial arts.  You are normally, pretty safe with a coach, but stay away from instructors, they are just aspiring teachers who are looking to sharpen their yardstick on you.

The idiots guide to iOS7 for complete dummies.

Oh, isn't she lovely.

Like geeks around the world we here at Life Explained were very excited to hear about the newest operating system from Apple.  There has been so much discussion at our top secret, world headquarters in Beautiful Bel Vista NE that we have barely gotten any work at all done in our mission to explain life, and define the complexities and risks surrounding each passing breath.

This place has been absolutely buzzing, with an anticipatory glee that has not been seen in these top secret, antiseptic, solemn halls since we found out Bob from R & D was bringing in homemade cookies.  That one ended pretty quickly when we found out Bob from R & D was single and had made the cookies himself, from a new recipe he had gotten off the "Simple Calorie Free Deserts, Using Nothing But Flour and Water" web site.  Man, we hate that guy sometimes.

That really has nothing to do with iOS7, though.

We all sat around, touching the little space on our iPhone screens that said "Software Update" until Bob, the custodian finally shrieked, "IT'S AVAILABLE!"  Of course, it sounded more like "EEEEEEEHHHHEEHHHE!   For such a macho looking guy, Bob the custodian can really act like a sissy sometimes.  But, man can that guy work magic with a vacuum.


We updated iTunes, and downloaded and installed the new system.  Soon we were all walking from desk to desk showing and showing each other our freshly update iPhones, iPads, iPods, we probably looked a little silly, in retrospect.

After almost a day here is our brutal, honest review.

The new operating system is different, sort of, at least it looks different, kind of.  But, it is almost the same, a little, with many of the same features, in a way.  One thing that really pops is the new weather icon, the clouds are so nice, and peaceful, and we feel like the sun is almost smiling, oh and the calculator is right there now, no digging through utilities, that's cool.  And we hear the camera is different, but we aren't sure how yet.  Hey, we only had it a day, what do you expect?

Anyway, our final review.  We like it, and can't wait until iOS whatevercomesnext.

Aging, Is It Right For You?

Today we are going to discuss one of the worst problems facing the aging population in America.  A problem that is normally pushed under the rug of polite conversation, hidden in the armoire of good manners, covered up with the white lacy table cloth of graciousness and the little hand tatted doilies of courtesy.  A problem that is not going to go away if ignored, a problem that needs to be discussed.  That's right, aging Americans are getting older, and there are serious problems involved.   Ask any old person what the biggest problem with aging is and they will tell you, it is growing older, it stinks!

If you don't think aging is a real problem just take a look at Keith Richards (but don't look too long, it is kind of like staring into the sun, it will burn your retinas).  Of course, in the social media jargon of the aging he is what is called an "extreme ager," one of those sickening over-achievers that has to age faster and more completely than anybody.  In fact, he is going to receive the Life Time Achievement Award from the AARP at the convention in Tampa Bay next year, if he lives that long, and the old folks at the AARP* can remember where they put the award, and who Keith Richards is, and that they are having a convention in Tampa Bay.

Besides the aesthetically negative effects aging, there are other issues, almost as important.  Old people can no longer dress in cool clothes.  Well, they can, but their children will ridicule them.**  Kids can be so cruel.

Almost as tragic, is the declining health, and decreasing physical abilities.  Instead of opening a bag of potato chips (ambrosia, for sure), pouring some in a bowl, closing the bag, putting it in the cupboard, and politely snacking, one chip at a time while catching the game (like wives everywhere prefer), an aging person is so exhausted, and sore  from opening the bag (are these childproof bags, or what?) all they can do to crawl out to the recliner, and eat the whole bag.***

So, before you get any older think about it, there are some real thorny issues involved.  But, the choice is yours.  You were warned though, so don't come whining to us.

* Just kidding, I am a member of AARP, and love the free donuts membership provides.
** Just ask my kids, who are among the most cruel.
*** Dammit, I can't believe I forgot to grab a beer, "hey is anybody here, someone go get me a beer, please."

A big thanks to a fellow blogger.

It seems like forever ago when I first posted to this blog.  It was kind of on a whim and completely silly, and I felt a twinge of guilt and fear.  Immediately after posting it I closed my internet browser, and didn't look again for hours.  Finally, curiosity wouldn't let me rest, and a quick peek revealed that no one had said anything bad, no one had said anything at all, and relief washed over me.

It became intoxicating, I could post anything, and there were no repercussions.  After a while, foolish bravery got the better of me, and I told a few people about my blog, and they looked and said, "that ain't too bad."  I was giddy.  My younger cousin, who gets paid to write things (and is devastatingly handsome, almost painfully so), told me to post a link on my facebook page, and I did, and nobody said anything bad, even a few compliments, man this was so cool.  Then a friend told me it would be smart to give my blog an exclusive facebook page, since it was free, sort of easy, and mostly painless, I did.

But, I was such a rookie, a sub novice, an FNG, I wanted to see what other blogs looked like, but my lack of knowledge was so complete that I couldn't find any real blogs, sure, there were tons of blogs tied to news outlets, and fashion houses, and paid, professional blogs with corporate ties, and polished, shiny writers, producing tons of squeaky clean, company approved misinformation, (just kidding, I didn't really pay that much attention, it might have been mostly true), but that was not what I wanted.  I wanted to see people, people like me who were writing because they liked to write, or had something to say, or just wanted their "fifteen minutes of fame."  But, I had no idea how to find them.

Our tech guy, not really,
It is our tech guy's dog though.

One day, while I was discussing some very important work related things with our tech guy he told me about using Google + for a wide variety of things.  Admittedly, he is such a Google fanatic he once told me "I hope my eyesight degrades enough that I can get some Google glasses."  Not really, he didn't say that, it is just a joke. Though, I am sure he would like some Google glasses.   But, he knows a lot about computers, the internet, and other high tech, magical stuff.  He gave me a quick run down on how to use Google + and I was off.  Though, honestly I still don't understand it all that well and may have to ask him how much it costs for the intermediary course.

Soon, I was reading other people's blogs, looking into their lives, finding out what they thought, and what they found interesting.  It was like a whole new world.  I was commenting on and following all sorts of blogs, and it was great.

One person I would like to mention is +Luna Lablue who writes a fantastic blog that can be found at  http://mylowercaselife.blogspot.com/.  It is so well written, and entertaining, and never resorts to the completely ridiculous that is my constant safety net.  This is a keenly engaging blog, and I enjoy it, a lot.  There are many very good blogs, and I single this one our for mention because the owner has nominated my blog for a Liebster Award.

I don't know much about this award, but, hey it's an award, right?  And I still remember fondly the year my slow pitch softball team gave me the "Not Much of a Hitter, but One Ace of a Drinker" plaque, well it wasn't really a plaque, more of a napkin, and looking back on our abysmal record in games, and our fantastic post game performances it was more of a team award, still it is nice to get some recognition.

Anyway, thank you Luna Lablue, and as soon as I can come up with 11 good questions, and 5 bloggers to add, I will complete the requirements.

Monday, again, survive the best you can.

Ah, Monday, my old nemesis, here you are again.  It has been what, about 7 days since our last encounter.  Don't forget what happened then.

You came in slow, stealthily, acting almost as though we were friends.  The song on the alarm clock radio was "What I Like About You," by The Romantics, the coffee was particularly delicious, the sun was smiling brightly at the cool, comfortable temperature, and the whole thing seemed like a Friday.

Soon, though, you showed your true nature, the nasty, despicable side.  Somehow, even though my coffee was on the other side of the counter from where I was making lunch, a Spicy, Tabasco, Fire, Inferno, Devil's brand Potato chip ended up in what had been one of the finest hot drinks of my long, drink filled life.  Dang It!!!!

Oh, well, one cup down there are ten more in the carafe.

"Watch out for thick patches of fog, all along the drive downtown."  The local Meteorologist said on the Morning News, but he seemed so happy how bad could it be?  "Plus, there are unconfirmed reports of scattered armies of satanic demons hidden in the fog, tearing the flesh from commuters, littering the bones all over the median, ripping up large patches of the road, and using the material to build an altar in what maybe an elaborate attempt to summon the end of the world, and possibly a tornado, or two.  Which could really have a negative impact on the flow of traffic.  For a more elaborate elaboration, let's go to Melissa Smiley, our Traffic Reporter."

"That's right, Bob.  Crosstown traffic is pure hell, today.  Even if you live you will be scarred for life.  I would avoid the whole interior of the city and use alternate routes, maybe take the back roads, to a secluded, wooded location that nobody knows about, and make peace with the Lord.  Or 5th Avenue, to Main, and go South from there.  Updating you on the latest sports news, here is Chip D'Average.  How about that game last night, Chip?"

Dang, and I am out of sick leave.

No choice, but to brave the drive, the fog, the demons, and the tornadoes, making it to work, just as the coffee I spilled on my shirt was turning unbearably cold.  I noticed the front door to the building was missing.

And, over the weekend, someone had broken in and taken all of the printer paper, even the stuff in the printer.  Painted the doors with the scene behind them so they always looked open, causing three broken noses, and a dislocated ring finger.  And, changed everybody's voice mail greeting to "Hello, I am too dumb to answer my phone."

It was a good fight, Monday, and you almost won.  Finally, around midnight I gained the upper hand, sending you running off, like a thief in the night.  Now, you are back, and it is time to lace up the gloves and go a few rounds again.  Take your best shot.  I'm ready.

Stork, it's what's for dinner.

There is very sad news from, Steve Newman of Tribune Media Services, in today's paper.  it seems that a stork fitted with an electronic tracking device by European wildlife researchers was arrested and jailed in Egypt.

There were accusations of espionage.  After a lengthy investigation and hours of intense, borderline abusive interrogation there was not enough evidence to convict, so the stork was released.

Storks around the world were celebrating.  A new contract between storks and European researchers was drawn up and signed by both sides.  Storks and European researchers were celebrating in the streets.  It was thought that a new era of cooperation was being welcome.

Unfortunately, villagers killed and ate the recently exonerated stork.  "It was delicious," the villagers are quoted as saying.

A Big Day

Today is Saturday, and that means football, college football.  While the NFL is insanely popular right now around here college sports are king.  With temperatures in the sixties and the sun shining gloriously life seems good today

Plus, we are celebrating my oldest son's 19th birthday with the traditional pie and ice cream.

And, as if that weren't enough we are making chicken wings (well, we aren't actually making them chickens did that for us. we are just baking them) in celebration of my youngest son's birthday.  

Today is going to be a big day!

10 things to avoid when choosing a nursing home.

10 - Coin operated dialysis machines
9  -  Community Showers
8  -  Help wanted signs advertising for a custodian/cook
7  -  Bullet proof glass at the reception desk
6  -  "Fill your own oxygen tank" stations
5  -  On staff tattoo artist
4  -  On staff veterinarian
3  -  On staff mortician
2  -  Work release program
1  -  "Twerking for seniors" classes

As the nation ages we here at Life Explained view it as our civic duty to help you, the nation, make the right choices.  Be sure to tune in tomorrow when we discuss bingo strategies guaranteed to get you to the top of the recreation room food chain.

Why do things have to change.

Ah, the day they made me manager, so long ago, is still etched in my memory.  It was so special, magical, and memorable.

"You're in charge of the department now, don't screw it up.  Here are your business cards, but don't give them out.  We accidentally put the toll free number on there, and that is only for customers."  And they threw me the shiny, full box of gorgeous, new 4 color, embossed business cards.  Unfortunately, they didn't throw it quite hard enough and it fell on the floor and broke open and 500 business cards that I couldn't use scattered all over the floor, rushing under machinery, and hurrying to the farthest corners of the department.  

But, I was thrilled, a manager with business cards, and I picked them up, counting them to make sure I had them all.  I even framed one and sat it on my desk, after crossing out the phone number.

What a day, huh?

Then when I got a computer with email, wow, that was something.  But, I would get cryptic, bizarre messages from other members of the Management Family.

"Please touch base with the carrier assigned to the trade show in Los Alamos.  Find out if they need anything from me."  And there would dozens of names in the "cc" field, so everyone in the company knew it was my responsibility to "touch base" with this particular company.

This was before Google, so not only did I have to figure out who the carrier was, but what was the best way to touch base with a carrier.  But, through perseverance and the telephone I triumphed, and could email everybody on the list that I had successfully "touched base" and there was no need for concern, they had everything they needed.

Soon, through phone, fax and email I was touching base all over the country.  It was kind of nice, touching base had an athletic sound, and hinted at the temporary, transient nature of these relationships.  No long term attachments, no commitments, just a quick contact and then it was over.

If you really wanted to dominate the exchange you could throw in an FYI, to suggest superiority, then everybody in this short term relationship knew who was the giver of information and who was the poor sap in second place.  It was a glorious time.

Then, things started to change, and nobody asked me to "touch base" with anyone.  Now, everybody wants me to "reach out."  It sounds almost desperate, pleading.

"Hey, could you reach out to Bob, in Texas?"  You just start out at a disadvantage.

"Help me, Bob, in Texas, you are our only hope."

Well, I refuse to play along.  "No, I will not reach out to Bob, in Texas, I will shoot him an email, I know it is a shot in the dark, but let's take a stab at it, anyway."

That is the way real men handle business.

Good luck, with that.

Tomorrow is Friday, the 13th.  While, personally we here at Life Explained are not the superstitious types, we prefer to deal in cold, hard, concrete, irrefutable facts, we know, without doubt that prime numbers are lucky.  Of course we don't expect you to take our word for it.  Here are the results of a very scientific study all wrapped empirically, in a beautiful, yet brutally effective Pie Chart.

It does not take a genius to understand that the roots of the Friday the Thirteenth legend are steeped in the backward thinking of ancient man.  For one thing, it is Friday, right, and that has to be good.  And, the whole thirteenth thing seems to have something to do with mythology, perhaps, the twelve gods of Olympus, or the twelve signs of the Zodiac.  It is plain to see that there is not much to worry about.

Of course, we are not taking any chances, if you need us tomorrow we will be in the basement, under the pool table, just ring the bell, or better yet knock on the wooden door.

Sorry I Asked.

While driving to work this morning I listened to "Black Diamond Bay" by Bob Dylan.  My music is always set to shuffle so it was a pleasant surprise.  The song dissects the last days of several people and the fictional resort island they are visiting.  It is filled with odd twists and takes several bizarre turns.  One of the characters (the Greek) came to island to commit suicide and actually kills himself as the entire island is dying.

From one frantic scene to the next Dylan sends you tumultuously through the last hours of disparate lives ending tragically.  It is a song that provides a lot of imagery and fascinating character interplay.

It all starts with an aging woman, you never learn much about her, but the descriptive text leaves you guessing, and wondering.

"Up on the white veranda
She wears a necktie and a Panama Hat,
Her passport shows a face
From another time and place
She looks nothing like that."

Moves quickly to an aging gentleman from Greece who is there to end his own life.

"While the morning light breaks open,
The Greek comes down and he asks for a rope,
And a pen that will write,
Pardon Monsieur," the desk clerk says
And carefully removes his Fez,
"Am I hearing you right?"

In a short song you start to identify with the characters.

"And as the island slowly sank,
The loser finally broke the bank, in the gambling room,
The dealer said it's too late now,
you can take your money, but, I don't know how
You're going to spend it in the tomb."

And it ends with the finality that only Dylan can bring to such a wild ride.

"I was sitting home alone one night, in LA
Watching old Cronkite on the seven o clock news
It seems there was an earthquake that
Left nothing but a Panama hat
And a pair of old Greek shoes
Didn't seem like much was happening
So I turned it off and went to grab another beer
It seems like every time you turn around
There is another hard luck story that you're gonna here
And there's really nothing anyone can say
And I never did plan to go anyway,
To Black Diamond Bay.

Maybe it was too much coffee.  Maybe a lack of sleep, but I was convinced this song held the secret to a happy life.  How do you discover the meaning.  Wait, Siri to the rescue.  "Siri, is this song the ultimate answer to life?"

After a long, uncomfortable pause, followed by a low, pained groan Siri said, "it is a good song, Tim, but you are looking for too much.  Obviously, Dylan was exploring his boundaries as a playwright, in fact the entire album "Desire" is filled with imagery designed with stage direction in mind."

"If you are looking for a metaphor for the existence of mankind, I would choose something from "War Child" by Jethro Tull.  "Two Fingers" might be good, but it may be too focused on the quest for redemption, and the urge to justify a life of excesses.  The first lines offer some proof;

'I'll see you at the weighing in,
When your life's sum-totals weighed
And you set your wealth of goodly deeds
Against the sins you've laid.'

"In fact," Siri continued, "many people feel the entire album is riddled with overtly Christian references, and is too heavy handed to be enjoyable.  However, I find comfort in the possibilities of divinity and a more noble purpose.  But, I digress.  If you really want to find an explanation for life in song (and you must, because you are always going on and on about it) you need look no further than "Bungle in the Jungle."  It sums up the entire human existence through the interplay of animals in the jungle.  It is really quite fascinating;

'Walking through forest of palm tree apartments,
Scoff at the monkeys who live in their dark tents,
Down by the waterhole, drunk every Friday,
Eating their nuts, saving their raisins for Sunday,
Lions and tigers who wait in the shadows,
Their fast but their lazy and sleep in green meadows."

"You see, all through the song there is a delightful interplay between the strong and the weak, those in power and those being ruled.  It is a fantastic journey through life."

By then I was at work and thought it was over, and then I had to put up with this.

Don't make me tell my Mom.

As the world edges closer to the brink, and it looks increasingly desperate each day, I am often comforted by remembering the dear words of my deceased Mother.  "If you fall off of that chair and break your neck I am not taking you to the doctor until dinner is over."  Or, something like that I don't really remember, funny you would think something that was said so often would be engraved in my memory.  Anyway the point she was trying to make was risk aversion is not healthy, but accepting too much risk when it could adversely affect the well being of others is not wise, either.  My Mother was big on metaphor.

Recently, the governments of the world have been engaging in some very risk prone behavior, I won't mention names, but you know who you are.  It has become almost accepted to act irresponsibly with the lives of others.  And they are beginning to act as if they are playing a bizarre game of "Duck, duck, no you duck, you big chicken?"


Well, it is time to grow up.  We are all stuck on this one, single, small, frail, overcrowded, noisy, messy planet, and you guys are starting to make me a little uncomfortable, so please stop.

Act responsibly, work together, and smile a little, it will help everybody, and you will probably feel better about yourselves.  Thank you, with a little effort you will make my Mother proud.

Lions, (really, just one) But, No Tigers, or Bears.

In a Buckeye Lake, Ohio neighborhood called Fairfield Beach there is a couple who owns a lion.  Someone thought it would be funny to break the locks on the cage, and leave a trail of "cooked ribs and chicken giblets."  There was no word on how the giblets were prepared.  Since lions are known to be carnivorous, and ravenous, the lion left the cage and grabbed a snack.

Ownership of exotic animals is a very serious matter in Ohio.  There was a man in Zanesville who owned several large, dangerous animals, and let them go, and people were mad, so mad they demanded action.  Acting quickly and authoritatively the state  government passed a law saying if you owned large, dangerous animals you had to register them, microchip them and could not let them go.

Not everyone is so well versed in the law as we here at Life Explained and some unknown ne'er do well loosed the lion on an unsuspecting neighborhood. Being a cat the lion found a sunny place to lay down, in a neighbors yard.  Where the neighbors saw the lion and called the authorities.

Since Ohio is so wary of wild animals, the police acted quickly and, according to the Columbus Dispatch "within about a half hour six deputies, and a wildlife officer swarmed the quiet neighborhood."  Fortunately, quiet, rural neighborhoods and their lions move at a slower pace, so the lion was still anticipating it's next move.

Which turned out to be walking slowly back up the street to its house, where the owners boyfriend put it on a leash and led it back to the cage.  

Another potential disaster avoided by the quick action of our law enforcement officers, and a lion owners boyfriend.

High Tech Happiness One Glass at a Time!

Samsung has just introduced a "smart watch," and, at $300.00 it should be pretty bright.  Somehow, the watch ties to their line of phones, so you can make calls right through your watch, maybe.  I'm not sure.  But, the watch face is pretty small, relative to watches, that is, when compared to the some of the monstrously big phones they offer the watch seems petite.  Due to the limited size of a watch face its usefulness as a computational device would seem somewhat limited.

Sometimes I have trouble typing on the virtual keyboard of my iPhone, admittedly, I am kind of big person with large fingers, and that is part of my problem, but many people have funny stories of how "auto correct spelling" and a typo caused them to send an inappropriate message detailing something distasteful, and private to a clergy person, or worse yet, their Mother.  These problems were not normally caused by typing the correct word.  

Now, imagine typing out your evening plans on the face of your watch.  OK, there is voice recognition, and that has many possibilities, but is far from perfected.

Just this week, on my way to work  "Siri, play 'Devil's Sidewalk'."

"OK, Tim, calling Satan on his land line."


What!?!?!!?  I have, over the years, indulged in some fairly risky behavior, but, it seems like that is one guy you don't want to annoy with a prank call.   "SIRI, FORTHELOVEOFGOD, HANG UP!!!!"  I screamed, almost running into the back of the police car in front of me.

"Just kidding, Tim, now playing "Devil's Right Hand."  Not what I wanted, but still a relief.

Without a convenient, reliable input device, a smart watch is just a little bitty television for watching youtube videos, as long as you have good eyesight or decent magnification, or making phone calls, but is it worth the price tag?  My watch is solar powered, has a thermometer, a compass, a stopwatch, a calendar, an alarm, syncs nightly with the Atomic Clock in Boulder, CO, plus it tells time.  And it costs less than $50.00.  Now, who has a smart watch?

Be sure to tune in next week when we discuss the advantage of Google Glasses.  We here at Life Explained are particularly excited about the introduction of the Google Beer Glasses.  Those folks at Google are doing everything they can to make life better for the common man.

Round 1 Goes to the Spider.

There are two or three different places I might park my car overnight.  One of them is next to a large, old, evergreen tree, which would be right next to the drivers door.  When I park there a spider (who obviously has compulsive tendencies) , almost without fail, will build a web between my car and the tree.

I never see the web as it is dark when I leave for work.  So, after walking blindly into a large web built by a maniacal spider, who doesn't know when to quit, I thrash around wildly, looking to all the world like a St. Vitus Dance victim.  Followed by the creeping suspicion, all the way to work, that I am covered with spiders.

Of course that is only a bit of paranoia, probably something primal, and ancient, dating back to when men had to fight for existence against hordes of carnivorous spiders, who waited right next to the primitive cars, in primeval parking lots, to ambush early man, and carry him off, throw him on a campfire and cook him up with a side of shallots, and a nice Lambrusco.   In those days spiders were much more civilized, and it was only an evolutionary fluke that made humans the dominant species, maybe.

I know the spider is not in the car, he is sitting in the tree, watching, a slight chuckle breaking the eerie silence of the pine tree residence, but, nobody complains, they all get a little pleasure from my embarrassing display (I hope insects and small animals don't have a user submitted video program).  Already the spider is planning for the next time my car ends up there.

But, I had a plan.  I bought a gun, and waited in my car, hiding in the back seat, tucked away under several jackets that were still in there from last winter, no point in taking them in now, it is almost winter again.  Sure, my wife is going to complain, "they need washed, bring them in."  The bright sun, magnified through the back window has killed any odor causing bacteria by now.  I can easily get one more winter out them.  It is so much more environmentally friendly that way.  Besides, what little smell is left will cover the reek of terror that comes with spider hunting.

Unfortunately, I fell asleep, and the spider built the web, complete with a little sign asking for the best place to buy shallots and Lambrusco.  Well played little spider, you win this round, but the war isn't over yet.

Goodbye, to a Very Good Man.

Yesterday I was told that Frank (http://tim-thingsastheyare.blogspot.com/2013/07/replacing-old-friend.html) had passed away.  A giant of a man, taken down by a simple, small plant.  Maybe I am wrong, but it seems to me that tobacco killed him.  Of course, there may not be enough scientific evidence for a conclusive decision, but, this is my blog, so I am going to say "I believe smoking killed the man."

But, it did more than kill him, it dragged him around for a while, it made him suffer, it humiliated him, taking little bits of his life, and leaving him to watch as it slowly took its reward.  It woke him at night, unable to breathe, terrified, and gasping.  It made him afraid, and forced him to live his last years in painful, frightening regret.  It was a monster, slowly crushing him under the weight of so many ailments that finally he lost the fight.

Frank shared his agony openly, hoping to help people avoid the tragedy he was forced to endure, and then he apologized for "whining."  His fight was an inspiration, and proof positive to all who had eyes to see of the awful dues destined to be paid for smoking.  His journal was the most powerful anti-smoking campaign imaginable, it was a personal diary of the dangers involved.

When I told my family of his death my son said "I am so glad you quit smoking."  It may have been the nicest thing he ever said to me.

So, here's to you Frank, I raise my coffee and say "tis a far better place" you go my friend, and I am happy for that.  Few people have done so much to help so many with such an awful addiction.

Thanks for all the help!